CHAPTER THIRTY SEVEN
“Sir Newton?” Oliver stammered. “What are you doing here?”
The scientist looked out of place in the sinister dark alleyways of London rather than his cozy parlor.
Isaac Newton looked sheepish. “I followed you. I wanted to see the shrouded school for myself.” He sighed heavily. “You see, the rest of the Alchemists Guild are… well, they’re starting to doubt me. I’ve failed in all my alchemy experiments so far. People are starting to call me a quack. I thought if I found the school they might not kick me out.”
In Oliver’s mind’s eye he recalled what he’d seen in the vision well. “You’re not a quack at all.”
Newton’s eyebrows quirked upward. “What do you mean?”
“Your alchemy work,” Oliver said, deliberating momentarily over whether it was prudent to divulge what he’d
