The man refused to give. Admirable in a way, perhaps, but Faust had other methods. Possibly if he'd wanted, he could have resorted to those other methods from the start.

Possibly.

He removed his hand from Heinemann's chest, and instead placed it over the man's forehead. There was a surge of magic Faust he spoke the necessary incantations. Heinemann tried to scream, but Faust slipped his hand over the man's mouth and gripped with feverish strength. The struggles slowed, stopped.

Faust removed his hand.

The old man's mouth opened, worked once or twice. "Francine," he said in a hoarse whisper. A single tear escaped from one faded blue eye.

"Eliza Mileta Francine... Faust." The last word came more like a curse than anything else.