《The Psychic Academy》


 Prologue - In the Tower

    The night was a rare, clear one. There were no clouds to obscure the light. Beyond the tower windows, a few stars stood out against the navy sky, defying the moonlight that was trying to drown them out.


    The only light in the tower came through the windows. The person huddled against the curve of the staircase was in shadow.


    He¡¯d been sitting there long enough, the wall behind him had grown warm. When he rocked himself, sometimes he felt a cool line of the wall slip under one side of his back or the other. He tried to move as little as possible.


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    The only sound was his quiet muttering.


    ¡°It¡¯s all right. It¡¯s nothing. It was only a dream. I¡ª¡±


    He bit his lip, hard, and squeezed his eyes shut. The anxiety in his chest had built up until it was powerful enough to screw down on his sternum. He clenched his whole body, not allowing his lungs to move in and out, trying to hold back his heart beat.


    It beat on. Louder and faster.


    He had to breathe.


    On the first long, ragged inhale, he thought he could smell a wisp of smoke.


    ¡°Not again.¡±

 Chapter 1 - Gesundheit

    It was early November, shortly before eight in the morning. I crept down the front stairs and snuck through the hall to the kitchen.


    Igor was working over the stove. As always, he was grumbling. The eye closest to me¡ªthe larger eye¡ªturned my way. When I put my finger over my lips and winked at him, it rolled back, and his grumbling got louder.


    I peeked around the doorway.


    Conrad had beaten me downstairs. He usually did. He was already sitting at the dining table, and his back was too me.


    Perfect.


    Olivia was also there. She was sitting on the other side of the table, reading a book.


    Less than perfect.


    I considered abandoning what I was doing, but the day before I had vowed not to let Olivia¡¯s attitude rule my life. Acting more serious around her hadn¡¯t made her any less caustic, so I decided I might as well enjoy myself.


    At least I didn¡¯t have to worry about her giving away my position. In the three weeks we¡¯d lived together, I don¡¯t think she''d ever acknowledged me first.


    I crept toward Conrad and cupped both my hands over his tall, pointed ears, slightly flattening them.


    ¡°I know that¡¯s you, Mera,¡± he said without looking around.


    I maintained my menacing death-grip. ¡°It¡¯s no fun trying to sneak up on a wolfman.¡±


    His ears twitched in a vain attempt to escape. I smiled as the fur brushed my palms.


    ¡°What are you doing?¡± he asked.


    ¡°It tickles when your ears do that.¡±


    There was a second of silence, then his ears twitched again. I giggled.


    ¡°You¡¯re such a weirdo,¡± Conrad said.


    I released his ears and claimed the chair next to him. ¡°Good morning, Olivia.¡±


    ¡°Good morning, Emerra.¡±


    There was nothing but indifference in her voice. She must have been in a good mood.


    ¡°And good morning to you, Master Chef!¡± I called.


    From over by the stove, Igor said, ¡°All your kissing up has never gotten you more than your fair share of food.¡±


    ¡°Give honor where honor is due. What¡¯s for breakfast?¡±


    ¡°Scrambled eggs.¡±


    ¡°Sounds fantastic.¡±


    ¡°And cinnamon rolls.¡±


    ¡°Do you want me to fall down and worship you now or later?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m too busy to go tripping over your prostrate form for the sake of mere lunacy.¡±


    I glanced at Conrad.


    The wolfman interpreted: ¡°He doesn¡¯t want to have to kick you for being silly.¡±


    I grinned. ¡°You¡¯re too good to me, Igor.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s true,¡± he said.


    The cinnamon rolls were as glorious as I thought they would be. I lingered over mine while talking to Conrad, at length, about the anime we had started the night before.


    I did most of the talking. The wolfman sat there, sipping his second cup of coffee, and tossing out an occasional comment. I didn¡¯t mind. He usually didn¡¯t say much, and when it came to the shows I liked, I could go on for hours with minimal assistance.


    Okay. Permission¡ªI could go on for hours with nothing but permission.


    I went on long enough, I was still talking when Kappa, our pint-sized bog-monster, woke up and came in for his morning bowl of slop.


    When I heard his sing-song, burbling voice coming down the side hall toward us, my voice faded, mid comment. He turned into the kitchen doorway, saw us, and stopped.


    Or saw him, really. Kappa didn¡¯t mind me or Olivia, but the wolfman made him nervous.


    Kappa was a whopping two-foot-four when he was standing on his hind legs¡ªand that included the fin on the top of his head. Conrad Bauer was well over six feet tall, broad chested, and strong enough to rip logs in half.


    That¡¯s not an exaggeration. I saw him do it. In November, he gets the wood shed ready for winter.


    Conrad knows that Kappa is scared of him, so he tries to be out of the kitchen before the bog-creature wakes up. That¡¯s the type of person Conrad is¡ªkind and considerate.


    ¡°Hey, buddy!¡± I called to Kappa.


    Kappa pulled his head back behind the tall cupboards. All we could see was his fin, flattened against his head, and his two massive, shiny, black eyes.


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    ¡°Your breakfast is ready, Kappa.¡± Igor motioned to the bowl sitting at the end of the kitchen island.


    ¡°Would you like to eat up here?¡± I suggested.


    The rule was that Kappa had to eat in the kitchen, but otherwise, he ate wherever he wanted. Sometimes it was on the floor. Sometimes it was at the kitchen island. When I was there, he liked to eat at the table with me.


    ¡°He¡¯s not going to come in,¡± Olivia said.


    ¡°He might,¡± I snapped.


    I hated how dismissive Olivia¡¯s prediction was. I hated it more because she was probably right. Whenever I wanted to hang out with my two friends, I always had to pick which one.


    ¡°Oh?¡± she said. ¡°I guess we¡¯ll see.¡±


    Conrad was about to stand up, but I grabbed the sleeve of his blue flannel shirt.


    ¡°Just give him a second,¡± I said softly.


    ¡°He¡¯s had five years,¡± Olivia said.


    I kept my eyes on the bog-monster and ignored the witch. ¡°Kappa?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s okay, Emerra,¡± Conrad said.


    I think it was the difference between Conrad¡¯s and Olivia¡¯s tones that triggered me. Hers had a jeering quality to it, while his contained only resignation. That made me realize how not-okay it was.


    ¡°Maybe for you,¡± I stood up from my chair, ¡°but I¡¯m selfish. I want my friends to get along.¡±


    Kappa must have sensed something in the way I marched toward him, full of nefarious purpose. He tried to run, but he¡¯d been standing in the same place for long enough, the tiles under him had become moist. He skidded for a quarter-second, giving me the chance to nab him.


    ¡°Come on, you.¡± I hauled him up to my hip.


    ¡°Mera!¡± he cried.


    ¡°No! I mean it! This is silly.¡±


    Conrad said, ¡°Emerra, you¡­you can¡¯t force someone¡ª¡±


    I walked back to the table. ¡°No, you can¡¯t force someone, because that would be scary and defeat the whole purpose. I can do it because I¡¯m the least scary thing in this whole mansion.¡±


    Olivia shut her book and put it on the table so she could watch.


    The closer we got to Conrad, the less Kappa struggled. He pressed himself against me in a desperate hug, motionless, except for his faint quivering. Conrad turned in his chair to face us, but he stayed seated.


    ¡°Okay, buddy.¡± I gently stroked one of Kappa¡¯s ear-fins as I spoke. ¡°It¡¯s about time you two formally met.¡±


    ¡°Wolfman!¡± Kappa squeaked.


    ¡°Yeah, I know. And he¡¯s nice.¡±


    Kappa peeled an eye open to look at me.


    ¡°He is,¡± I said. ¡°Very, super, ultra, amazingly nice.¡±


    Kappa turned his head to peer at Conrad from the corner of his eye.


    I went on, ¡°I would like it if you would at least get to know him well enough to see that you don¡¯t have to be scared of him.¡±


    Since I was standing and Conrad was sitting, Kappa was almost at the wolfman¡¯s head level. Most of the time, the poor bog-creature had to stare a million yards up to see his titanic form. Kappa, his face full of mistrust, gazed at the wolfman. Almost a half-minute later, Kappa turned away and struggled until he could stand on my arms, to bring his mouth up to my ear.


    ¡°He has teeth,¡± Kappa whispered.


    Conrad bit back a smile. He¡¯d heard the comment, so he knew it¡¯d be a bad idea to go showing off those pearly-whites.


    ¡°So do I,¡± I said. ¡°So do you, and, frankly, Kappa, your fangs are horrifying.¡±


    His teeth were tall and thin. Whenever he smiled, it revealed a mouth full of serrated knives.


    ¡°For fish!¡±


    We¡¯d had this conversation before. I knew where it was heading.


    ¡°He doesn¡¯t eat bog-creatures. Do you, Conrad?¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s right, I don¡¯t.¡±


    Conrad had lowered his voice, but it was still deep and there was always an undertone that sounded like grumbling or growling. It was worse if he wasn¡¯t articulating.


    Kappa eyed him again, before turning to me. ¡°Why not?¡±


    ¡°Huh?¡±


    ¡°Why won¡¯t he eat bog-creatures?¡±


    Er¡­hmmmm. That was¡­a very good question.


    I knew the answer: Kappa was slimy and gross. But Kappa probably wouldn¡¯t understand since everything in his natural habitat, including his food, tended to fall under the heading of ¡°slimy and gross.¡± If I told him that Conrad didn¡¯t like how bog-creatures tasted, that would imply that Conrad had, at one time, eaten one of them, and so knew that he didn¡¯t like them.


    Kappa¡¯s expression grew more skeptical the longer I hesitated. Olivia crossed her arms.


    ¡°Because he is a bog-creature,¡± I blurted out.


    Kappa and Conrad both looked at me like I was crazy. The witch rolled her eyes.


    Kappa spoke slowly, as if to a hare-brained child: ¡°Wolf¡­man.¡±


    ¡°If he can be part wolf, then he can be part bog-creature. And I have proof.¡±


    The real bog-creature stared at me, waiting to see if I could pull a rabbit out of a hat.


    ¡°His nose is cold and wet,¡± I said, ¡°just like your skin. Boom! Part bog-creature.¡±


    Conrad rubbed his brow ridge but said nothing.


    Behind us, Igor said, ¡°Emerra, your reasoning defies all my expectations.¡±


    I looked around. ¡°Why, thank you, Igor.¡±


    ¡°You must be proud to have been the one to work that out.¡±


    ¡°Indeed.¡±


    When I turned back, Kappa was still watching me.


    ¡°What?¡± I said. ¡°Go on. You can¡ªConrad, can I touch your nose?¡±


    The wolfman dropped his hand back to the table. ¡°Why not?¡±


    I reached out and put my fingers against the large black tip of his nose. I felt a tremble of air move over my skin as he exhaled.


    ¡°Yup.¡± I said. ¡°See? Cool and wet. Clearly, he¡¯s part bog-creature. The defense rests, Your Honor.¡±


    Kappa stared.


    ¡°You don¡¯t believe me?¡±


    He shook his head.


    ¡°Well, then you touch it.¡±


    Kappa turned to the bog-wolfman.


    ¡°It¡¯s all right, Kappa,¡± Conrad said. ¡°I promise I won¡¯t hurt you.¡±


    I held my breath as Kappa slowly, oh-so slowly, leaned toward Conrad. He didn¡¯t bother reaching out with his hand; he reached out with his own nose. His nostrils flared as he drew closer and closer. Two cold noses, only an inch apart. Only a centimeter apart. I had to step in so I wouldn¡¯t lose balance.


    They touched, and for a second, everything was still.


    Before I knew what was happening, Conrad¡¯s mouth was open, Kappa squawked and trapped the wolfman¡¯s nose with both his webbed hands, there was a quick inhalation¡ªthen Conrad let out an almighty sneeze that made his whole body shake and his ears rattle.


    Igor was laughing hard enough, I thought he might drop.


    At the last moment, Kappa had jumped up on my shoulders to avoid the calamity. He peered around me as Conrad did a quick shake-off with his head.


    ¡°Sorry,¡± the wolfman said. ¡°Kappa twitched his nose.


    In my ear, Kappa said, ¡°I exploded him.¡±


    ¡°I think you did.¡± I grabbed the bog-creature under the arms and pulled him over my head. ¡°Well? Was it cold and wet?¡±


    ¡°Warm. But wet.¡±


    ¡°Warm!¡±


    ¡°It would be,¡± Igor pointed out. ¡°It feels cool to you because you¡¯re warm-blooded.¡±


    You¡¯d think someone as good with logic as I was would have figured that out.


    ¡°What do you think?¡± I asked Kappa.


    ¡°Not bog-creature. Wolfman.¡± He patted my shoulder, as if to make me feel better about my mistake. ¡°You can still like him.¡±


    ¡°Oh, good. Thank you.¡±


    I put Kappa down. He padded off toward the doorway, but paused before he went too far. He looked back at Conrad for a long time, then turned and left the room.


    ¡°Well, that was entertaining,¡± Olivia said.


    I sighed and dropped into my chair. ¡°It was worth a shot.¡±


    Conrad stood up and put a heavy hand on my shoulder. ¡°That¡¯s the first time Kappa¡¯s ever gotten close enough to touch me. That¡¯s impressive, Mera.¡±


    ¡°But her taxonomy could use some work,¡± Igor said.


    The wolfman picked up his dishes and walked over to the sink. I started gathering my own dishes.


    I was almost to the sink when Darius came in. As always, the vampire¡¯s suit was impeccable. He told us all good morning, and got a chorus of good mornings in return.


    ¡°Conrad, Emerra, Jacky wants to see us in his study,¡± he said.


    Us.


    Okay. That meant that Vasil had also been summoned, so I probably wasn¡¯t in trouble. At least, not in any trouble I had caused.


    I put my dishes in the sink and ran after Conrad and Darius.


    ¡°Do you know what¡¯s going on?¡± I asked.


    ¡°I¡¯m afraid not,¡± the count said. ¡°I¡¯ll be just as surprised as you are.¡±

 Chapter 2 - The Psychics

    ¡°How many?!¡±


    Despite what Darius had said a minute before, I was pretty sure he was a lot more surprised than I was.


    Noctis said, ¡°He said his last count was one hundred and three.¡±


    ¡°What did he mean by ¡®last count?¡¯¡± Conrad asked.


    Big Jacky turned his skull to the wolfman. ¡°I¡¯m not sure, but I¡¯ve been told such a statement implies that the number is growing.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not possible,¡± Vasil insisted.


    ¡°I¡¯ll grant you that it¡¯s improbable, but I can¡¯t say that it¡¯s impossible.¡±


    I gazed between the three of them and tried not to look confused.


    Why couldn¡¯t there be a hundred psychics? I mean, Jacky called me a seer, and that¡¯s kind of like a psychic¡­right? Maybe?


    Anyway, if I could be a seer, then it was obvious the universe was willing to hand out powers to any Joe Blow. If there was a guiding hand, it wasn¡¯t being discerning.


    ¡°There haven¡¯t been a hundred confirmed psychics in the last century,¡± Darius said, ¡°and now there¡¯s suddenly a hundred of them in the same country?¡±


    ¡°The same school, actually,¡± Jacky lifted a paper with his skeleton hand and passed it to Darius.


    The count stared at the paper, but I wasn¡¯t sure his eyes were taking it in.


    Jacky went on, ¡°The person who put in the petition isn¡¯t a psychic himself. He¡¯s the headmaster of the school in question. He¡ªquite rightly¡ªpointed out that there are fewer than a hundred known thrismages under the Albion Torr, and they have a representative. By his reasoning, the psychics should have one too.¡±


    ¡°If he¡¯s not a psychic, why should he be the representative?¡±


    ¡°The vast majority of the psychics are ¡®under age.¡¯ Brisbane never told me under what age or why it mattered, but he seemed to think it was important.¡±


    I hid my smile.


    Big Jacky was the embodiment of death, and he¡¯d been something similar to alive for millenniums. That meant my favorite suit-wearing skeleton was both knowledgeable and impressive. On the other hand, he hadn¡¯t spent a single second of that time as a human, which meant he could be dense when it came to some things.


    Count Darius Vasil, who wasn¡¯t a real count, but was a real vampire, struggled to accept the facts. He told me his perfectionism had nothing to do with being a vampire, but I rarely meet a human that has such an extreme case of rock-brain. I knew he¡¯d get there¡ªhe always did¡ªbut it would take some time. And it looked painful.


    ¡°There¡¯s never been a mundane that¡¯s acted as a torrman,¡± he said.


    ¡°I have to correct you, Darius. There have been three. Thrismages are, after all, rare. We replaced them with real torrdunes as soon as possible, but Struna served for three years.¡±


    ¡°Torrdune?¡± I whispered to Conrad.


    ¡°It¡¯s an old word for torrman,¡± he whispered back. ¡°You hear it on formal occasions.¡±


    ¡°But psychics aren¡¯t even magicians!¡± Darius said.


    ¡°Which is why Mr. Wuller says that it shouldn¡¯t matter that he isn¡¯t one.¡±


    My curiosity finally outweighed my pride.


    ¡°Um, how are psychics not magicians?¡± I asked.


    Jacky turned his empty eye sockets to me. ¡°They don¡¯t use magic.¡±


    ¡°They can read minds¡­without magic?¡±


    ¡°If their talent lies that way, yes. But telepathy is the most rare of an already rare set of skills.¡±


    ¡°How is it¡±¡ªI struggled to think of how to phrase my question¡ª¡°not magic?¡±


    There we go. Clear as mud. Let¡¯s see what happens.


    The blank skull and the empty eye sockets somehow looked more hollow than normal. ¡°I thought you would know, Emerra.¡±


    I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. Maybe that¡¯s why Jacky never told me anything. He assumed I already knew it.


    See? Dense.


    Darius took time away from his mental conflict to help me out.


    ¡°Magic is a type of power. You know how you can light a fire with electricity?¡±


    I nodded.


    ¡°You can also light it with the heat generated by friction. The result is the same¡ªyou get flames¡ªbut you used two different kinds of power to create them. Witches, sorcerers, and alchemists all use the same kind of power. Psychics use a different kind.¡±


    ¡°What about thrismages?¡± I asked.


    Thrismage was a blanket term for religious magicians¡ªthe people who have magical powers because of their faith.


    ¡°It¡¯s complicated,¡± Darius said.


    Since thrismages included everyone from medicine men to Catholic exorcists, that made sense.


    ¡°Iset can give you a full lecture series if you want to know more,¡± Vasil added. ¡°It should only take two months.¡±


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    I held up both hands. ¡°I¡¯m good!¡±


    The vampire turned back to Noctis. ¡°Jacky, are you considering accepting his petition?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not my decision to make. I only have to weigh in if the vote is tied.¡±


    ¡°Then why did they call you?¡±


    ¡°It seems they¡¯re at as much of a loss as you are.¡±


    Jacky and Darius both fell silent. I wouldn¡¯t have spoken up otherwise.


    ¡°So what¡¯s the big deal?¡±


    Vasil and Noctis looked at me. Darius had to turn around to do it. I may have been some kind of funky zombie, but my heart pumped red blood. Having a vampire and death staring at me made me uncomfortable.


    I did a squirmy shrug. ¡°Why don¡¯t they just give it to him? Maybe I¡¯m being really American here¡ªwhere did you say they were from? Albion?¡ªbut ¡®no taxation without representation.¡¯¡±


    ¡°The Torrs don¡¯t tax people,¡± Jacky said.


    ¡°They make laws those people have to follow. That seems even more important.¡±


    Darius and Jacky exchanged glances.


    ¡°If a psychic goes out of control, who takes them on?¡± I asked.


    ¡°The local Torr,¡± Noctis admitted.


    I knew what a Torr enforcement unit was like. Heck, I¡¯d been a part of one.


    ¡°With lethal force and everything?¡± I said.


    ¡°If necessary.¡±


    ¡°Geez! How have they not had representation before?¡±


    ¡°Because it¡¯s not appropriate for someone to represent themselves.¡±


    I blanked out on that one.


    ¡°There¡¯s usually only one or two psychics alive at a time,¡± Conrad reminded me. ¡°They aren¡¯t normally in the same country.¡±


    Oh.


    ¡°Still,¡± Jacky said, ¡°your logic is valid. I¡¯m sure the debates will be both interminable and tedious, and¡ªknowing my fortune¡ªI¡¯ll be required to attend them all.¡±


    I ran that statement through my Jacky-filter. ¡°You mean, ¡®knowing your luck?¡¯¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not sure I have any luck. It would be hard for me to get to know her.¡± He leaned back in his office chair and interlaced his finger bones before putting them in his lap. ¡°Before any debates can commence, the Torr have asked me to look into the matter.¡±


    ¡°Why you?¡± Darius said.


    ¡°When they investigated what was happening, they found nothing. Wuller¡¯s claims were correct, the students are provably psychic, and no magic was used. Perhaps the torrmen were hoping I could find something they could not.¡± In a darker tone, he added, ¡°People often overestimate my abilities. And the scope of my free time.¡± He continued in his normal voice, ¡°To that end, I would like to ask you three for a favor. I want you to go in my stead. I¡¯ve already contacted Wuller. The school is willing to host you for as long as it takes for you to understand the situation and create a report.¡±


    ¡°Us?¡± I said.


    Why would he want to send me? I didn¡¯t know anything about psychics. I didn¡¯t even know where Albion was!


    I was trying to draw a vague mental map from what little I knew about geography when Jacky pointed at me.


    ¡°My eyes.¡± He pointed at Darius. ¡°My ears.¡± He pointed at Conrad. ¡°My nose.¡± He laid his hand on his desk. ¡°Between the three of you, there is nothing I know in this world, or any of its facets, that could escape your senses. You¡¯ll perceive more than I ever could.¡±


    His eyes.


    Why not? They might have been in my head, but they didn¡¯t feel like they were mine.


    I looked a lot like I did the day before I died of cancer. Thanks to Igor¡¯s cooking, I had put on some weight, but that only meant I looked skinny, as opposed to emaciated. I was still bald from the chemotherapy, and I had to resign myself to the idea that I might always be bald.


    It did save a ton on hair-care products.


    The only major difference I¡¯d noticed between my body then and my body now was my eyes. My formerly blue irises were jet black, and I had started seeing things I¡¯d never been able to before. Including magic.


    ¡°Are you willing to help?¡± Jacky asked.


    Darius turned to me and Conrad. The wolfman nodded.


    My answer wasn¡¯t quite that succinct.


    ¡°Question!¡± I raised a hand.


    ¡°Yes?¡± Jacky said.


    ¡°How¡¯s he going to go?¡± I jerked my head toward Conrad. ¡°I thought he was supposed to be a secret. Won¡¯t the students be kind of surprised to meet a wolfman?¡±


    ¡°The Albion Torr is less strict in their secrecy regulations than the Torr here. All of the students have been exposed to the supernatural because of their psychic abilities, so they¡¯re considered initiates, and if Conrad¡¯s representing me, it affords him certain rights and protections that he might not otherwise have.¡±


    Ohhkay. I¡¯d have to look up the word ¡°initiates¡± later.


    I said, ¡°And¡ªdon¡¯t laugh¡ªis Albion outside of America?¡±


    Jacky hesitated. ¡°Yes?¡±


    ¡°Because I don¡¯t have a passport. And I¡¯m not sure I can get one. I think my birth certificate expired.¡±


    ¡°You won¡¯t need a passport.¡±


    I glanced at Darius. The vampire was scowling. That meant that we were going to be bending the rules.


    Special Agent Darius Vasil was employed by the FBI. One of his main jobs was to remind Big Jacky that there were rules, right before Jacky bent them until they resembled a slinky.


    ¡°Oh. Okay,¡± I said. ¡°Sure, I¡¯ll help.¡±


    ¡°Darius?¡± Jacky said.


    ¡°I¡¯ll get some time off. It shouldn¡¯t take more than three days.¡±


    ¡°Good. I want you to leave as soon as possible. Emerra.¡±


    I looked up.


    ¡°If you have any other concerns, you can talk to Darius.¡±


    I gave him a thumbs-up. Message received. Don¡¯t annoy death with a million questions.


    ¡°Thank you for your time,¡± Jacky said.


    Conrad, Darius, and I filed out of the study.


    Darius had worked with me before; he knew about the million questions. When I turned around, the count was already waiting for the first one.


    ¡°What will I need?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Not much more than your clothes, but you¡¯re welcome to bring anything you might find useful.¡±


    ¡°What kind of clothes should I pack? Are we talking northern or southern hemisphere?¡±


    ¡°The Albion Torr oversees Britain.¡±


    ¡°You mean England?¡±


    ¡°I mean Britain. It¡¯s a land mass, not a country. They¡¯re the oldest Torr in the world. Jacky calls them by their old name. You¡¯ll need at least a jacket. Depending on where the school is in Britain, you might want a raincoat.¡± He held up the paper. ¡°I¡¯ll look up the weather for this place and get back to you.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t have a raincoat,¡± I muttered to myself. Something occurred to me. ¡°Darius, um, I don¡¯t have any luggage. Is there a spare backpack I could borrow?¡±


    ¡°We might be there for a few weeks, Emerra. You¡¯re going to want more than a backpack¡¯s worth of clothes.¡±


    I stared at him¡ªI stood there in my typical jeans and T-shirt, and I stared at him. The winter boots I¡¯d ordered hadn¡¯t arrived yet, which meant I had a total of two pairs of shoes. The dressy boots were for when I had to testify in Torr court. The shoes I wore everyday were a set of low-top Converse Chuck Taylors. I could stick them in my back pocket. I could fit most of my wardrobe in a backpack.


    ¡°Sure,¡± I said at last. ¡°Is there any luggage I can borrow?¡±


    Darius looked at Conrad.


    The wolfman shrugged. ¡°I only have my duffel bag.¡±


    ¡°And I¡¯ll need my luggage,¡± the vampire said.


    All those expensive suits had to be carefully packed. God forbid, they might get wrinkled.


    ¡°Does Jacky have any luggage?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Jacky doesn¡¯t take anything with him when he travels.¡± Darius added, with a hint of bitterness, ¡°Half the time he doesn¡¯t even take his phone.¡±


    I didn¡¯t bother asking about Iset. As a mummy, the only thing she ever wore were her bandages, and she only changed them once a decade.


    My mind drifted from her to¡­


    Oh, no.


    No, no, no.


    ¡°Igor!¡± I said. ¡°He¡¯d have some luggage, wouldn¡¯t he?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± Darius said. ¡°He was here when I moved in. You could always ask¡ª¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll ask Igor.¡±


    ¡°Emerra, in the ninety-nine years I¡¯ve lived here, I¡¯ve never seen Igor leave the mansion, but I know, for a fact, that Olivia has luggage.¡±


    There. He¡¯d said it. The witch¡¯s curse was come upon me. I glared at him like the backstabber he was.


    He sighed. ¡°Why don¡¯t you buy some luggage?¡±


    I didn¡¯t like buying stuff. Darius knew that. Jacky was so rich, he wouldn¡¯t notice if I bought a designer, six-piece, alligator luggage set, but using his money always made me feel like the freeloader I was.


    ¡°We leave in three days,¡± I said.


    ¡°You can have it shipped in overnight.¡±


    I could. That would only double the cost and my moocher¡¯s guilt.


    ¡°Either way, Emerra,¡± Darius said. ¡°You can borrow it, or you can buy it, but make sure you know where it¡¯s coming from by the end of the day. We might leave in three days. We might leave tomorrow. Be ready.¡±


    ¡°Yes, sir,¡± I mumbled.


    Darius turned and went over to the library.


    ¡°Mera?¡± Conrad said.


    ¡°I¡¯m going to talk to Igor.¡±


    I wandered toward the kitchen.

 Chapter 3 - The Price of Luggage

    Igor stopped rinsing the dishes so he could look at me with both his eyes.


    ¡°Are you insane? Why would I have luggage? I hate traveling.¡± He went back to loading the dishwasher. ¡°As soon as I moved into the shack, I threw away my trunk. I would have burned it if Mr. Noctis had allowed it.¡±


    ¡°The shack?¡±


    I had assumed that Igor lived in the mansion with us. Iset hadn¡¯t pointed out his room on our tour, but it was a big mansion, and Igor seemed like the kind of guy who liked his privacy.


    Igor nodded toward the western wall. ¡°It¡¯s out there. You really should explore more of your surroundings.¡±


    I waved a finger around. ¡°Okay. A¡ªyou¡¯re one to talk. B¡ªwhere do you get off calling that thing a shack? Do you know how much people in the city would have to pay for a studio apartment that nice?¡±


    When I had asked Conrad about the building that Igor referred to as ¡°the shack,¡± the wolfman had called it ¡°the groundskeeper¡¯s cottage.¡± That had confused me at the time because Conrad was more or less the groundskeeper, and his room was across the hall from mine. It made a lot more sense now that I knew Igor had claimed it.


    The exterior of the cottage matched the gray stone of the mansion, but a quick peek in the window had revealed a tasteful, modern interior that looked as if it had been renovated in the last five years.


    ¡°I earned those upgrades, young lady.¡±


    ¡°And no one deserves them more, Igor.¡± I hesitated. ¡°So you don¡¯t have any luggage?¡±


    Igor closed the dishwasher and started it. ¡°Believe it or not, I was too busy working to run out and buy some between now and thirty seconds ago.¡±


    I groaned and dropped my head onto the kitchen island.


    ¡°You¡¯ll spend more time indulging in your petty theatrics than it would take to buy some for yourself.¡±


    ¡°Darn right I will,¡± I said to the floor.


    There was a short silence.


    ¡°You don¡¯t want to buy some?¡± Igor asked.


    I shook my head without lifting it from the cold countertop.


    ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°Guilt.¡±


    The next silence was long enough I raised my head to see what Igor was doing.


    He was wiping off the counters.


    ¡°What?¡± I said. ¡°No comment?¡±


    ¡°Not this time. I understand your sentiment¡ªthough I can¡¯t approve of your melodrama.¡±


    Mind you, this was coming from the person who¡¯d once called me an abomination because I tried to come into the kitchen with muddy boots on.


    ¡°What should I do?¡± I asked him.


    ¡°Don¡¯t put the choice to me. I¡¯ll wrap it up, add a bow, and hand it right back. Nobody likes hard decisions.¡±


    The ridiculousness of the situation struck me. This was a hard decision? When did I become so privileged that choosing how to get luggage for my free international trip qualified as a struggle?


    ¡°You know, you¡¯re right,¡± I pulled out my phone. ¡°I¡¯m being stupid. This really shouldn¡¯t be that big of a deal.¡±


    ¡°What are you doing?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m flipping a coin.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s your phone.¡±


    I smiled and opened my coin flipping app¡ªan essential program I would recommend to anyone who hates hard decisions as much as I do.


    ¡°Good lord,¡± Igor said when he saw it. ¡°Has technology finally gone too far?¡±


    I ran my finger up the screen. There was the high-pitched ringing sound of a nonexistent coin, then it landed.


    This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it


    Heads.


    Well, it wasn¡¯t any worse than tails.


    I put my phone in my pocket. ¡°Where¡¯s Olivia?¡±


    ¡°Check Iset¡¯s private study. If she¡¯s not there, then she¡¯s probably in the library.¡±


    I went to the library first. I could have gone up the grand staircase to Iset¡¯s rooms, but then I wouldn¡¯t get the chance to use the neat spiral staircase that corkscrewed up from the library to the second floor.


    But my clever plan was thwarted. Olivia was in the library.


    She and Iset stopped talking as I approached the desk where they were working. The silence got noticeably louder when I finished asking my question.


    I forced myself not to fidget.


    ¡°Where are you going?¡± Olivia asked.


    ¡°England.¡±


    Her eyes narrowed. ¡°Why?¡±


    I glanced at Darius. He was several feet away, at his own desk, typing on his laptop. He looked up in time for our eyes to meet, but he didn¡¯t say anything.


    ¡°Jacky asked me to help him,¡± I said.


    ¡°I see.¡±


    Between us were a hundred things that Olivia Oliversen wasn¡¯t saying. I could feel them pushing against me. I braced myself.


    ¡°Yes, you may.¡± She looked back down at the open book in front of Iset.


    I kept my stance. ¡°I need it soon. Would you like to get it now or sometime this evening?¡±


    She raised her head.


    ¡°Maybe after lunch?¡± I suggested.


    The witch said, ¡°Iset?¡±


    The mummy¡¯s beautiful, soft voice felt like a balm after Olivia¡¯s clipped tones. ¡°I¡¯m afraid it¡¯ll be hard to break from the spell once you start it.¡±


    Olivia dropped her pen on her notebook. ¡°Then I guess we¡¯d better take care of it now.¡±


    The witch motioned for me to follow as she passed. We went out of the library, climbed the front stairs, flipped around the banister, and walked back to her rooms.


    When she opened the door and went inside, I stopped.


    ¡°May I come in?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Fine,¡± she called.


    She disappeared into her walk-in closet while I looked around the bedroom.


    There was a lot less black than I thought there would be. Either she didn¡¯t bother redecorating when she moved in, or her love of the color didn¡¯t extend beyond her wardrobe. I saw a black sweatshirt hanging off the back of her desk chair. That was all. The rest of the room was done in a muted Victorian color scheme, similar to my room¡¯s. I wandered over to the desk. It was covered in books, notebooks, post-it notes, and random objects. I glanced at an open notebook and saw a sketch surrounded by her neat, cramped handwriting. I looked away before she could find me there and accuse me of snooping.


    When I turned, I saw that she made her bed.


    She was sixteen¡­and she made her bed.


    It galled me to think that she was more mature than I was. I made a mental note to clean up my own bed once I got back to my room.


    She came out of her closet with a large, black, carry-on bag, laid it on her bed, and started going through all the pockets to make sure they were empty.


    ¡°Why are you always bothering Conrad?¡± she asked.


    The assault was so sudden, I couldn¡¯t prepare myself for it. The blow hit like a cannon ball.


    Olivia continued her inspection, completely unconcerned.


    Since she wasn¡¯t in a hurry, I had a few seconds to try to compose my thoughts. I never got past the foot-wide hole her comment had left through my chest.


    ¡°Wha-what makes you think I¡¯m bothering him?¡± I sputtered.


    ¡°You¡¯re always following him around and harassing him.¡±


    ¡°Harassing him?¡±


    ¡°Patting his head, tugging his ears¡ªthat kind of thing. And that stunt you pulled this morning with Kappa. Did you think you were being cute?¡±


    Was the room swaying or was I?


    ¡°Has he said something?¡±


    My tone was more confrontational than I had meant it to be, but Olivia didn¡¯t comment.


    ¡°Not everyone is going to tell you to your face that you¡¯re bothering them,¡± she said. ¡°Some people are too nice.¡± She zipped up the bag and held it out to me.


    I snatched it from her. ¡°At least that¡¯s not a problem you have.¡±


    I turned to leave, but I hadn¡¯t gone two steps before I turned back. I hoped she couldn¡¯t see the tears gathering at the edges of my eyes.


    ¡°And I don¡¯t follow him around!¡±


    I forced myself to walk out of the room and down the hall to my bedroom, but that used up all the self-control I had. Once I locked the door, I fell to the boards, content in the knowledge that no one was around to see my hysterics.


    But maybe collapsing was enough drama. I shed a few tears, but they had the decency to be silent. Then I got to lay there, feeling embarrassed and wretched.


    Olivia had a point. Conrad was really nice. And he was shy. If I was bothering him, he probably wouldn¡¯t tell me.


    ¡°I¡¯m not following him around,¡± I muttered to the crack in the floorboards.


    Maybe if I repeated it enough, I¡¯d believe it was true. But I doubted it.


    I did follow him around. Not on purpose, but whenever I was bored or wanted company, I went hunting for him. I knew all his favorite places in the mansion.


    My cheeks burned.


    ¡°I wasn¡¯t trying to be cute,¡± I hissed.


    That, at least, was true.


    Cute? What kind of ego would that take? I was a bald zombie. I was only¡­playing. Having fun. I never wasted a single second worrying about how I looked. There didn¡¯t seem to be much point.


    But Olivia obviously thought I was trying to be cute.


    Did Conrad?


    My stomach turned until it was upside down. I tried to breathe slow so I wouldn¡¯t heave. On hands and knees, I crawled over to my bed and dropped myself on my mattress.


    I was being stupid. Again. It seemed like the day for it. There wasn¡¯t any point in worrying about the past. I couldn¡¯t change it, so I had to let it go. I had to think about something else.


    My stomach moaned.


    Yeah, right. I could try to think about something else. Or, if I was going to obsess, I could at least be sensible about it.


    I liked Conrad, no matter what he thought of me. I didn¡¯t want to annoy him. The solution to that was easy. All I had to do was stop teasing him. I would leave him alone and give him some space.


    I nodded. The motion felt confident. Good girl. I had found a reasonable way to think.


    The heartache had permeated all the way to my bladder by then. When I felt the dull whisper of pain, I put a hand over my abdomen.


    ¡°It¡¯s been a long time since you¡¯ve enjoyed this.¡±


    Get up, I thought. Do something. Get your mind off it. Take a bath and read some comics or something.


    Yeah. That sounded good. I went to run some hot water, leaving my bed unmade.

 Chapter 4 - Departure

    Three days had passed, and I had remained true to my resolution. I didn¡¯t tease Conrad. I didn¡¯t follow him. Whenever we met, I tried to be friendly without pushing myself on him. I¡¯m a pretty good actress, so he probably didn¡¯t even notice the strain I felt from having to fake some cheer.


    It didn¡¯t take long for me to realize that Olivia might have been right. Once I stopped seeking him out, it was obvious it had always been one-sided. I went to Conrad. Conrad never came to find me.


    Which was fine.


    No. Absolutely. It was fine.


    He was free to do whatever he wanted. I was glad I had figured it out before I really got on his nerves.


    But after a few days of only playing with Kappa or sitting by myself, feeling pitiful and ashamed, my stomach was a wreck.


    I was pushing the food around my dinner plate with a fork and trying to convince myself to put some in my mouth, when Darius came into the dining room.


    ¡°Conrad, Emerra, everything¡¯s arranged. Are you packed?¡±


    ¡°Yes, sir,¡± Conrad said.


    Packed? Oh. Right. Something about clothes.


    ¡°When do we leave?¡± I asked.


    ¡°The Torr is sending someone to pick us up,¡± Darius said. ¡°They¡¯ll be here in an hour and a half.¡±


    It¡¯s a sign of how out of it I was that I didn¡¯t ask any questions. I stood up from my chair and put my napkin to the side of my plate.


    ¡°I¡¯ll go get ready.¡±


    I left without looking around, glad for the chance to escape without having to eat.


    It took me less than ten minutes to roll up my clothes and pack them in the bag Olivia had loaned me. I didn¡¯t have anything else to do, but I stayed in my room until it was time to go.


    When my phone said it was ten minutes to ten, I went downstairs. One of the two front doors was open. Darius¡¯s silver, hard-shell luggage was already waiting under the porch light. I wheeled my suitcase onto the porch, propped it up on its end, and stood beside it.


    I glanced at my phone.


    Nine fifty-five.


    Maybe Kappa was still awake. I¡¯d warned him that I¡¯d be leaving, but since I¡¯d said it for three days in a row and never left, I¡¯m not sure he believed me. I wanted to say goodbye, but most nights he headed off to his nest around nine.


    The second door opened behind me, and Conrad stepped out onto the porch. He was carrying one of those olive green, top-loading duffel bags you can only buy at an army surplus store. He wasn¡¯t wearing a jacket, despite the cold.


    Out of sympathy, I overlapped the ends of my red hoodie until both sides of the zipper were under the opposite armpit¡ªyou know, in case the wolfman with the built-in fur coat was cold.


    ¡°Hey,¡± I said.


    ¡°Hey.¡±


    I bit down on the inside of my lips so I wouldn¡¯t say anything else.


    Darius joined us on the porch. Over his shoulder was an expensive-looking messenger bag. ¡°Did you remember your charging cord, Emerra?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s the first thing I packed.¡±


    ¡°Toothbrush? Toiletries?¡±


    I couldn¡¯t help feeling annoyed. Who wants to be mothered by a vampire? And why did he pick on me but not Conrad? Did Darius have that much more respect for the wolfman?


    Nope. Never mind. I didn¡¯t want to know.


    I snapped my fingers. ¡°Shoot! I forgot my hairbrush.¡±


    Vasil¡¯s most common sign of amusement is a subtle, closed-lip smile. It proves he has a sense of humor without revealing his fangs.


    He smiled now, but he also took the hint and stopped nagging.


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    A car pulled up the drive. As it got closer, a bubble of excitement swelled in my chest. It was a limousine.


    I laughed. ¡°Whoa-ho-ho, what!¡± I turned to Darius. ¡°For real? Is this how you drive around when you need to get to the airport?¡±


    ¡°Generally, I prefer to drive myself in the SUV.¡±


    ¡°Then what¡¯s with the royal treatment?¡±


    Darius glanced behind me, but he didn¡¯t answer.


    ¡°It¡¯s for me,¡± Conrad said.


    I turned. The wolfman was watching the car as it pulled in front of us.


    ¡°The windows are dark,¡± he added.


    I wanted to punch Conrad¡¯s arm and tell him that they were spoiling him, or joke about how he was a movie star, but his voice had been soft and serious. It made me realize how chirpy I must have sounded.


    I bit the inside of my lips again and tried to ignore the sadness dribbling through my ribs.


    The driver got out and came up to Darius. He touched his hat.


    ¡°Good evening, Mr. Vasil.¡±


    ¡°Hobbs, isn¡¯t it?¡±


    The man smiled. ¡°It is, sir. Good evening, Mr. Bauer.¡±


    Conrad nodded to him.


    Hobbs looked at me with a polite, professional, nonplussed expression.


    ¡°Oh,¡± Darius said suddenly, as if he¡¯d forgotten. ¡°I apologize. This is Emerra Cole.¡±


    That¡¯s me. The human addendum.


    ¡°Good evening, ma¡¯am,¡± Hobbs said. ¡°May I take your bag?¡±


    I handed off my luggage and walked toward the car.


    ¡°Would you like me to get the door for you?¡± Hobbs cried.


    Darius answered, ¡°You don¡¯t have to be so formal. Let her explore. Conrad and I can help you with the bags.¡±


    I left them to deal with our driver¡¯s protests while I crawled into the limo to take advantage of the few seconds I had to goggle before the others got in.


    The interior was as dark and romantic as they made them look in the movies. There was a bench in the back and another bench along the side. Across from the side bench was a small bar¡ªwith drinks! Including soda! Along the whole interior were two, thin, LED light strips, running above and below the windows. A rainbow of neon colors slid around each strip.


    I climbed onto the side bench so I could put a finger down on the lower strip. The violet glow ran from my left side, under my finger, off to my right. Red followed it. Then yellow.


    Conrad got in and claimed the far side of the back bench.


    I pulled my hand down and sat properly in my seat.


    After an hour of driving, we made it to the airport. I¡¯d never heard of it before. I took that as a sign of how small it was. When Hobbs helped me out of the limo, I saw two other people¡ªone woman, one man¡ªdressed in the same stark, black suit as our driver. They flanked the short walk from our limo to the mobile stairs that led up to a private jet.


    ¡°Good evening, Mr. Vasil,¡± the woman said. She stood in a stiff, parade-rest stance, and she didn¡¯t move when she spoke. ¡°Everything¡¯s clear.¡±


    ¡°Thank you.¡±


    Darius and Conrad were kind enough to allow Hobbs to do his job while the other suits were watching. Our driver and yet another suit went ahead of us to make sure all our luggage got on the plane.


    I fell in step beside the count.


    ¡°How many people get to use this airport?¡± I asked.


    ¡°It¡¯s more correctly called an airfield,¡± the vampire persnicked.


    ¡°Sure. And how many people get to use it?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s hard to estimate. It depends on¡ª¡±


    ¡°Does anyone outside of the Torr get to use it?¡±


    ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°Ah.¡±


    When we climbed into the plane, both pilots were standing by to greet us. Neither of them batted an eyelash when they saw Conrad, and they called Darius, Mr. Vasil. I broke away to investigate the plane while they talked about the flight plan and when we¡¯d arrive in England.


    I had only flown once before. As I looked around, I couldn¡¯t help remembering the cramped, tiny seats, the mash of people, and the too skinny aisle. This jet could have seated ten people in the kind of comfort that a first-class flier would be jealous of. A full sized TV sat across the aisle from a nine-foot bench seat that was basically¡ªwe¡¯ll be real¡ªa couch. It had throw pillows and everything.


    Never before had I wanted, so badly, to be rich.


    As luxurious as it was, the cabin was still too short for Conrad to stand up in comfortably. He sat down in one of the recliner seats as soon as he could. There were six of them. A set of two were on one side of the aisle, facing each other. The remaining four were on the other side, facing each other in pairs. Conrad grabbed the furthest back of the four. He put his phone on the small table in front of him and stared out the window.


    The empty seat next to him was tempting, but considering there were only three passengers, I couldn¡¯t justify crowding him.


    The battle between my temptation and my resolve rooted my feet to the aisle between the TV and the couch-bench. I might have stayed there the whole time, but Darius took my shoulder and gently moved me to the side.


    ¡°It¡¯s going to be a long flight, Emerra,¡± he said as he passed. ¡°You might as well get comfortable.¡±


    ¡°Yeah.¡± I motioned to the plane. ¡°It¡¯ll be a struggle, but I think I can manage.¡±


    ¡°Good.¡±


    With a quiet groan, I flopped onto the couch-bench.


    Darius Vasil walked through the cabin on the way back to his seat after using the lavatory. The lights had been dimmed out of respect for the fact it was the middle of the night, no matter which time zone you were referencing.


    Vasil didn¡¯t mind. He could see in the dark.


    As he passed the bench, he looked down at Emerra, and his cheek lifted in a faint smile.


    He sat down in the seat across from Conrad.


    The wolfman was gazing out the window.


    ¡°You can¡¯t sleep?¡± Darius whispered.


    Conrad turned away from the window. ¡°I don¡¯t sleep well on planes. Never have. I hope I can fall asleep soon.¡± He shrugged.


    Darius hummed his agreement. ¡°I think Emerra¡¯s the lucky one.¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s asleep?¡±


    ¡°It took a while, but she¡¯s out now. I wondered if she might be too excited to sleep, but¡­¡± The count shook his head.


    The muted roar of the plane engines filled the silence.


    ¡°Has she been having nightmares again?¡± Vasil asked.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± the wolfman grumbled.


    ¡°She seems¡­lower-energy than normal.¡±


    Conrad didn¡¯t respond.


    The vampire let his hand rest on the table and pressed each fingertip down in turn.


    ¡°Have you two had a fight or something?¡± Darius said.


    The wolfman glared at him. ¡°Ask her.¡±

 Chapter 5 - Setlan on Lee

    According to the locals, we made it to the school around three in the afternoon. It felt like ten in the morning to me, and the weather only made my sense of time displacement worse. The sky was blanketed with a layer of gray-white clouds that blocked out most of the sun. Through the tinted windows of our limousine, it looked even darker.


    We stopped at the gate while our driver tried to get someone on the intercom.


    My eyes followed the line of the gate to the high stone wall it was set in. I hadn¡¯t noticed the wall as we pulled up. It was easy to miss. Thick trees were planted, two rows deep, on each side of it.


    Our driver managed to announce us, and we rolled through the gate onto the school grounds.


    The trees became sparser as we drove up the long road. The brush gave way to orderly bushes, which gave way to a manicured yard. The lawn striping made the grass look like a series of green carpets, rolled out to welcome us to the school.


    When the main building came into view, I sat on my legs and leaned the side of my head against the window to get a better look.


    I remembered the awe I felt when I first saw Big Jacky¡¯s mansion. I remembered it really well, because I was feeling it all over again.


    The main building of Setlan on Lee was massive. It sprawled across the grounds, presenting its rose-beige brick walls like a fort. The walls were broken up by towers that could have been stolen from a castle. There were rows and rows of windows. Between the windows were three-story chimneys that led up to the steep, brown-black roofs, and along the roofs was another line of white windows, standing tall, each with their own little peak. There were bay windows, sometimes two stories high, crowned with the same kind of stone teeth you could see on the towers.


    I felt like some part of that immense edifice had to be newer than the rest, but I couldn¡¯t pick out which part. The school might as well have been plucked out of history, brushed with fairy-tale dust, and dropped into modern-day Britain.


    Darius shifted to the bench beside me.


    ¡°Emerra, you¡¯re smudging the window.¡±


    I looked down at my hands. There were streaks where I¡¯d smeared them while they were pressed against the glass.


    Oh, geez. I was like a kid at a candy store without the excuse of being a kid. Or having any candy.


    I sat in my seat properly. ¡°Are you going to remind me to be professional?¡±


    The vampire straightened his jacket as he settled back in his seat. ¡°Not this time.¡±


    That was suspicious.


    ¡°Why not?¡±


    ¡°Setlan on Lee is an all-boys school whose students range from the age of fifteen to eighteen. We¡¯re basically walking into a building of your peers.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m twenty!¡±


    A closed-lip smirk appeared on the count¡¯s face. ¡°You¡¯re closer to being their age than either Conrad or I.¡± He glanced, meaningfully, at my hoodie. ¡°I think you¡¯ll fit in fine.¡±


    I huffed and wrapped the sides of my jacket around me tighter.


    A tall, slim man was waiting for us outside the doors of the main entrance. He wore baggy khaki pants, a dress shirt that showed his wrists, and a tie. His hair was thick, coarse, blond-brown, and down to his chin. It stood away from his head, making it look like a lion¡¯s mane. His nose would have been thin if it wasn¡¯t for the knob at his bridge and the large nostrils. As the limo pulled up, he stepped forward with a nervous, eager gait, and stood there with his hands clasped together in front of him.


    When our driver let us out, Darius emerged first. Then Conrad. Then me.


    Slim retreated a step and stared at the wolfman.


    ¡°Good afternoon,¡± Conrad said softly.


    Slim cleared his throat and stepped forward again. This time it was a lot more nervous and a lot less eager. ¡°Good afternoon.¡±


    I was impressed. You could hardly hear the quaver in his voice.


    His eyes moved between Darius and Conrad. ¡°Mr. Vasil?¡±


    The vampire stepped forward. ¡°I¡¯m Darius Vasil. Are you Alex Miller?¡±


    Miller smiled. ¡°Yes, sir. We spoke on the phone.¡±


    ¡°I know. I recognized your voice. It¡¯s a pleasure to meet you in person.¡± They shook. Darius turned to us. ¡°These are my colleagues, Mr. Conrad Bauer¡ª¡±


    Bless him, Alex Miller actually stepped toward the wolfman to shake his hand.


    ¡°¡ªand Miss Emerra Cole.¡±


    Miller had to step around Conrad¡¯s bulk to see me.


    I smiled. ¡°Hey.¡±


    He smiled back with palpable relief.


    Darius looked so sharp and expensive it tended to intimidate the people who couldn¡¯t match his standards¡ªwhich was, well, everyone. Conrad looked like something that crawled out of the deep dark woods to read an etiquette book. Compared to them, I was blessedly boring. Another bald punk in sneakers.


    Miller stepped back and addressed Darius. ¡°Thank you for coming so far to visit us. Mr. Wuller would have liked to be here to welcome you, but I¡¯m afraid he¡¯s rather busy. We¡¯ll have your bags sent up, and I can take you to meet him.¡±


    ¡°Thank you,¡± Darius said. ¡°That¡¯ll be fine.¡±


    Miller turned and motioned to the shadows under the arched entry. Two boys stepped out. They looked like they were sixteen. As they came toward us, they stared, unashamed, at Conrad.


    He stared back. His ears inched toward his head.


    Conrad didn¡¯t like being stared at, but he was doing his best to hide it.


    Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.


    This was going to be a long day for him.


    Our four bags were lined up in front of the driver.


    ¡°I can help bring them up,¡± the driver said.


    ¡°That won¡¯t be necessary,¡± Miller said. ¡°Stewart. Evans.¡±


    The boys picked up two bags each. The taller of the two hoisted Conrad¡¯s duffel. When he reached for my luggage, I thought I saw it drift off the ground until the handle reached his hand. If anyone else saw it, they didn¡¯t say anything.


    ¡°This way, please.¡± Miller motioned for us to follow him.


    The inside of the school was as impressive as the outside. High ceilings, stone walls, old paintings¡ªI gawked as we passed through the halls.


    Alex Miller gave us a kind of informal tour as we walked, pointing out wings and hallways, trying to give us an understanding of where the different areas of the school were. Both his voice and his arm movements were jerky.


    ¡°The three main wings of the building were constructed in eighteen-forty-seven. In nineteen-oh-one, they added the east and back wings, but after the first world war, it got too expensive to keep up as a single-family home.¡±


    The question burst out of me: ¡°This was a single-family home?¡±


    Miller stopped and turned when he heard me. ¡°Well, it was used more as a retreat, so there were often guests, and all the servants, of course, but it was owned and maintained by the Lurendells. They sold it off. It passed through various hands until Mr. Wuller bought it seven years ago and founded Setlan on Lee.¡± He turned and kept walking.


    Guests. And servants. And¡­how many rooms?


    ¡°How many students do you have?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Two-hundred and eighty.¡±


    ¡°The papers I was sent said there were three hundred,¡± Darius said.


    Our guide slowed. ¡°Yes, well¡­we recently came back from half-term. We lose and gain boys at almost every break.¡±


    ¡°How long have you worked here, Mr. Miller?¡±


    Miller¡¯s pace picked up again. ¡°Five years.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s your job?¡± I asked.


    ¡°I¡¯m Mr. Wuller¡¯s professional assistant. The school secretaries deal with most of the school¡¯s logistics. I help out more with Mr. Wuller¡¯s personal workload.¡± The heavy wood door he opened creaked loudly. ¡°But this is still a start-up, so we all have to move into different tasks if the need arises.¡±


    The creak of the door made me realize how quiet the rest of the wing was. The walls swallowed up our footfalls, making the whole building feel empty.


    ¡°Do you like working here?¡± Darius asked.


    Miller passed through a diffused block of light cast by the window to our right. One second of shine on his blond hair. A break. Another second of shine, then back into the shadow.


    ¡°The work suits me. Mr. Wuller puts a lot of faith in me¡ªwhich is gratifying¡ªand I like the energy that the boys bring in.¡±


    I looked around at the dead walls and the wide hall.


    Then I heard the murmur of voices. It sounded like the stones to our right were humming.


    ¡°Speak of the devil,¡± Miller said with a smile.


    The wide room we¡¯d entered fed into three wings, as well as the interior courtyard. The doors to the courtyard crashed open, all at once, to admit a crowd of boys and the noise that came with them.


    Miller stood off to the side and raised his voice to say, ¡°These are our alpha classes, coming in after their games.¡±


    Alex Miller was right¡ªthe boys carried an energy with them. The air in the room came alive. There were random pockets of laughter and an omnipresent smell created by the scent of grass, sweat, and a crowd of people. On the edges there were a few adults, looking over the group like weary sheepdogs.


    It finally felt like a school.


    The mass of boys got closer. Some of them stopped when they saw Conrad. They turned to each other or stared. One of them raised a finger to point.


    I wanted to stand in front of Conrad, to block him from their view¡ªwhich was hilarious given our relative height difference. Thankfully, I wasn¡¯t the only one worried about how the school was going to welcome our wolfman.


    Darius put his hand on Millar¡¯s shoulder. ¡°Perhaps we should keep going.¡±


    ¡°Huh? Oh¡­yes. Certainly.¡±


    We waded through the crowd.


    Since Conrad stood head and shoulders above everyone in the room, this made him even more visible.


    You¡¯d think that would make the problem worse, but it didn¡¯t. Everyone could gape all at once and get it over with, and the pressure of the group would keep any one boy from shouting out something that I¡¯d make him regret.


    Miller and Darius led the way. I trailed behind Conrad¡¯s empty wake, feeling almost invisible.


    We had reached the stairs at the far end of the room and started climbing when a voice behind us sailed over the noise of the crowd.


    ¡°Avatar, the Last Airbender was brilliant! And Iroh is my hero!¡±


    It took one second: my breath stopped, I looked down at my shirt, half hidden by my hoodie¡ªyes, it was my Airbender shirt!¡ªI whirled around on the step to look over the crowd below.


    ¡°Where are my people at?¡± I yelled.


    At the other end of the room, a hand shot out from the crowd. Its finger was pointing right at me. I could see the teeth of the kid¡¯s smile. I grinned and pointed back.


    One of the adults drawled, ¡°Keep moving, Osborn. You¡¯re blocking the flow, and you need a shower.¡±


    There were a couple of sniggering laughs.


    Osborn and I both turned away. He was swallowed up by the mass of teens. I stood alone, three stairs below Conrad, Darius, and Alex Miller.


    All of them were watching me. The insufferable vampire was smiling in a smug manner.


    I put my nose in the air and climbed until I was level with Darius. ¡°If you¡¯d seen the show, you¡¯d understand.¡±


    We continued to Wuller¡¯s office.


    In the outer room, there was a desk near the windows, covered with paperwork, stray pens, and an old computer. On the other side of the room were bookshelves and file cabinets. Miller led us through it all toward the door in the side wall.


    Darius motioned to the file cabinets. ¡°Is this where you keep the student information?¡±


    ¡°Well¡­um, yes,¡± Miller said. ¡°But not the normal student information.¡±


    ¡°I see.¡± Darius rested his hand on one of the cabinets. ¡°This is about their psychic powers.¡±


    Miller¡¯s body twitched. ¡°Yes¡­I¡¯m¡ªyes. It is.¡±


    He turned and walked over to the door. When he knocked, a bluff voice answered.


    ¡°Enter!¡±


    The headmaster of Setlan on Lee was all I imagined him to be from the one word he shouted. He was an inch taller than average, with a rotundness that couldn¡¯t be disguised by his tweed suit. His hair was a graying brown, but his bushy mustache was reddish brown. His eyebrows were almost as bushy as his mustache. He had a set of spectacles on a chain. They had to be spectacles. No one would attach a mere set of glasses to their button hole. As he stood up to greet us, the spectacles dropped from his nose.


    ¡°Good afternoon! Good afternoon!¡± He paused for a fraction of a second while his brain force fed him the image of a wolfman standing in his office. ¡°How do you do?¡± he said to Conrad. When he saw me, he smiled. ¡°Ah! A young one. I wonder what you¡¯ll make of my school. Wayne Wuller, at your service.¡±


    I shook his hand. He had the kind of brassy, friendly aura that always made me feel welcome. With someone like him around, I knew I wouldn¡¯t be the loudest person in the room.


    ¡°Emerra Cole,¡± I said.


    ¡°Excuse me, you¡¯re a lady!¡±


    I smiled. ¡°It¡¯s the hair. It throws people off.¡±


    He turned to the wolfman and put out his hand.


    ¡°Conrad Bauer,¡± Conrad said as they shook.


    ¡°North American lycanthrope?¡±


    ¡°Yes, sir.¡±


    ¡°May I ask which group?¡±


    ¡°Unnuk. North West region.¡±


    ¡°Fascinating.¡± Wuller looked down and realized he was still holding Conrad¡¯s hand. ¡°Oh! Pardon me. There¡¯s no one more rude than an old scholar.¡± He let go and waved his finger. ¡°Don¡¯t let me corner you. I¡¯ll bore you to death with all my questions.¡± He turned. ¡°And that means you must be Mr. Darius Vasil?¡±


    Darius held out his hand. ¡°Yes, Mr. Wuller. Thank you for allowing us to stay here during our review of your school.¡±


    ¡°Of course! I couldn¡¯t think of a better place to have you stay. You¡¯ll get all the time you need to look around, and we can arrange for you to meet our psychics without breaking into their school work too much. Err.¡± He brushed his mustache down with two fingers. It sprang right back up. ¡°That being said, I should warn you, I only have one guest room available. We usually keep three open, in case parents want to visit, but we¡¯ve had to set two of them aside for the extra teachers we brought on.¡±


    His eyes drifted in the direction of the unexpected female.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry, Mr. Wuller,¡± I assured him. ¡°We¡¯ll work it out.¡±


    ¡°Yes. Thank you. You¡¯ll let young Miller know if you need anything like cots or blankets, won¡¯t you?¡±


    ¡°No problem.¡±


    ¡°Now, I can¡¯t walk away from all this paperwork at the moment, but I¡¯ve set aside a few hours after dinner to meet with you. Until then, Miller can show you to your rooms, and you can rest until it¡¯s time to eat. Will that do?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯ll do fine, Mr. Wuller,¡± Darius said.


    Wuller raised his hands like a ringmaster presenting his circus. ¡°Then let me formally welcome you to Setlan on Lee, our little psychic academy!¡± He lowered his hands. ¡°I hope you find our work here as stimulating as I do.¡±

 Chapter 6 - Settling In

    When we got to the guest room, Miller let us inside, gave us the key and the school schedule, and bid us goodbye. He left us standing, three in a row, inside the door.


    The moment the door closed, Darius said under his breath, ¡°Conrad?¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s leaving. There¡¯s no one in the rooms beside us.¡±


    ¡°Has anyone been in this room?¡±


    ¡°The boys who brought our bags up. They lingered for about five minutes.¡±


    ¡°Around the luggage?¡±


    ¡°Around the window.¡±


    The vampire turned. ¡°The window?¡±


    I rolled my eyes and grabbed my bag. ¡°They were ditching class for five minutes. That¡¯s what you do when you have an excuse.¡±


    Our guest room included a front room, bedroom, and a bathroom. The front room had a desk, an armchair, and a tiny couch with a coffee table in front of it. I walked over to the door in the right wall and looked into the bedroom.


    It was as small as the front room. There was one bed. It could, theoretically, fit two people¡ªbut they¡¯d have to like each other a lot.


    ¡°I call the couch!¡± I yelled.


    Darius moved so fast I couldn¡¯t see him. He appeared at my shoulder and looked in the room.


    ¡°Hmmm.¡± He turned to Conrad. ¡°I guess that means we¡¯re sharing the bed.¡±


    ¡°What size is it?¡± the wolfman asked.


    ¡°It looks slightly smaller than a double.¡±


    Conrad made an ugh sound.


    ¡°No, this will work out,¡± Darius said. ¡°You get it at night, and I¡¯ll get it during the day.¡±


    Conrad picked up his duffel bag and walked toward the bedroom.


    ¡°If Conrad gets it at night,¡± I said, ¡°what will you be doing?¡±


    ¡°Emerra, you know I can¡¯t sleep at night,¡± Darius said.


    ¡°Ah, yes. The joys of being a vampire.¡± I cocked my head. ¡°Did you bring blood?¡±


    ¡°Only an emergency ration. I stocked up before we came.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s an emergency? Do you get hunger pangs?¡±


    Conrad passed between us. ¡°He needs it if he gets badly injured.¡±


    The count walked over to his messenger bag. ¡°Give me a minute to set up before we continue this conversation.¡±


    He pulled out a black velvet sack. Around the material, I could see a fine dusting of magic glinting various shades of blue and purple. He reached in and pulled out a small, brass weight. He flowed from one corner of the room to another, a blur of motion, stopping at each one to lay down a weight.


    A shimmering indigo curtain grew up around me until their wavering corners met in the center of the ceiling.


    ¡°What¡¯s this?¡± I muttered.


    ¡°That¡¯s right, you can see it.¡± Darius stopped by the door to the bedroom and whistled for Conrad¡¯s attention. ¡°Get all the corners, will you?¡± He tossed the sack into the bedroom, then came out to me. ¡°Is the light going to bother you?¡±


    I laughed with delight. ¡°It¡¯s beautiful.¡±


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    ¡°I¡¯m glad.¡± He picked up his luggage. As he crossed toward the bedroom, he said, ¡°It¡¯s a barrier. No one outside the room can see or hear anything that goes on inside it. Oh¡ªand it works on technology, so if you have to make a call, you¡¯ll need to go outside.¡±


    I followed him. ¡°Does the headmaster know that you¡¯re a vampire?¡±


    ¡°No one here does, and I don¡¯t want them to know. It¡¯ll give me certain advantages during the investigation. Do you need any of the wardrobe, Conrad?¡±


    The wolfman shook his head and went back to transferring his clothes to the dresser.


    I said, ¡°I thought we were here to review the school.¡±


    The count put his luggage on the bed. ¡°Over a third of their students claim to have psychic powers. As far as we know, none of those powers existed until they enrolled here. Something is going on in this school. We¡¯re here to find out what.¡±


    ¡°And put a stop to it?¡±


    ¡°That depends on what it is.¡±


    He opened his case and pulled out his suits. They were already on hangers and still covered in dry-cleaning plastic. He put them in the wardrobe exactly two inches apart from each other.


    ¡°So what are you going to do at night?¡± I asked.


    ¡°I might wander around. Do a little reading. Try to see all the things they don¡¯t want us to see.¡±


    ¡°And during the day, you want me to keep my eyes open?¡±


    ¡°Exactly.¡±


    ¡°I couldn¡¯t see it though.¡±


    ¡°Couldn¡¯t see what?¡±


    ¡°That kid¡ªthe one who brought up our bags.¡±


    ¡°What about him?¡±


    ¡°He did that thing where you make stuff float.¡±


    Both Conrad and Darius stopped and turned to me.


    ¡°You saw him use telekinesis?¡± Vasil said.


    I pointed at him. ¡°That¡¯s the word! I would have thought of it eventually.¡±


    Darius walked over and sat on the bed. ¡°Tell me what you saw.¡±


    ¡°It wasn¡¯t a big deal. The kid opened his hand, and my bag floated up until he grabbed the handle.¡±


    ¡°That was all you saw?¡±


    I scrutinized my memory. ¡°Yeah.¡±


    ¡°You didn¡¯t see any magic?¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t see any purple or white if that¡¯s what you¡¯re asking.¡±


    ¡°Did you see any other colors, shadows, images, or anything out of the ordinary?¡±


    ¡°You can stop it with the inquisition eyes! No. There was nothing out of the ordinary.¡±


    ¡°Conrad, can you double check?¡±


    The wolfman came over. He paused beside me and said in a quiet voice, ¡°May I smell your luggage?¡±


    That topped my chart for weirdest question I¡¯d been asked all week.


    ¡°Sure,¡± I said. ¡°Knock yourself out.¡±


    I stayed by the bedroom door while Conrad walked over to my suitcase. He picked it up and turned it this way and that, sometimes lowering his nose toward the case.


    Darius came to stand beside me.


    Conrad put my luggage down. ¡°Nothing.¡±


    ¡°What kind of nothing?¡± Vasil asked.


    ¡°I can smell Olivia and Emerra on it, and I can smell the boy, but there¡¯s nothing I wouldn¡¯t expect to smell there.¡±


    ¡°Did you expect him to find anything?¡± I asked Darius.


    ¡°Not really. Three teams have already come through. They said the psychic abilities were real, but¡­¡±


    ¡°But you wanted to confirm it?¡±


    ¡°I was hoping we might have a way to trace it that they didn¡¯t.¡± He took a deep breath and straightened his jacket. ¡°Which leads me to the second half of your instructions, Emerra.¡±


    ¡°I have two-part instructions, and the second part isn¡¯t to pretend to be professional?¡±


    ¡°Would you be willing to work with the students?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t mind.¡±


    ¡°Even though it¡¯s almost three hundred teenage boys?¡±


    I scoffed. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, Darius. I¡¯m not exactly teenage fantasy material.¡±


    The vampire paused, then tilted his head. ¡°That¡¯s true.¡±


    ¡°There were so many different ways you could have responded to that. Thanks a lot.¡±


    Conrad went past us, into the bedroom.


    The count followed him while saying to me, ¡°I¡¯d also like you to keep quiet about your powers.¡±


    I pushed away from the wall and turned. ¡°Sure, but¡ª¡±


    I ran into Darius¡¯s upheld hand.


    ¡°Where do you think you¡¯re going?¡± he asked.


    ¡°I¡¯m talking to you?¡±


    ¡°Conrad and I are unpacking. This is our room. You can talk to us from outside the door.¡±


    ¡°I was in there a second ago!¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not proper.¡±


    ¡°Darius, you know you¡¯re my favorite Victorian antique¡±¡ªI motioned to the door on the far wall¡ª¡°but the bathroom¡¯s through there.¡±


    ¡°And it¡¯s our bathroom.¡±


    ¡°Right. So I get to shower with the three hundred teenage boys.¡±


    Conrad chuffed.


    It took all my willpower to not ruin my sassy expression by smiling.


    ¡°It¡¯s all right, Darius,¡± Conrad said. ¡°I won¡¯t let her ravish you.¡±


    The wolfman¡¯s back was to us, so he couldn¡¯t see my grin or the vampire¡¯s glare.


    Darius turned to shoo me out the door. ¡°At least give us some privacy while we unpack.¡±


    ¡°Okay! Okay! I¡¯ll let you deal with all your¡±¡ªI whipped out some air-quotes¡ª¡°¡®unmentionables.¡¯ Tell me when you¡¯re done.¡±


    ¡°If you¡¯re bored, there¡¯s some paperwork in my messenger bag. You might find it interesting.¡±


    He shut the door behind me. I went over, picked up the bag, and hauled it to the desk.


    ¡°Can¡¯t let a woman see his underwear,¡± I grumbled under my breath, ¡°but he¡¯ll let me root around in his messenger bag? I ought to leave my bra in here.¡±


    From behind the closed door, Darius yelled, ¡°I heard that, Emerra!¡±


    Still snickering, I pulled out the file tucked next to his laptop.


    I walked over to the couch, crashed down on it, and flipped back the cover on the file. A pang of homesickness hit me when I recognized Iset¡¯s handwriting on the post-it notes. She had divided the papers into three sections: psychic abilities, Setlan on Lee, and Wayne Wuller.


    I turned to the section on psychic abilities.

 Chapter 7 - My People

    I stared at the islands of food that were laid out, buffet style, and tried to decide if I was willing to eat any of it.


    A whole lifetime of learning to eat whatever was put in front of me¡ªruined! I had been spoiled by only a few weeks of Igor¡¯s cooking. Here I was, surrounded by my choice of badly fried, junky carbs, and all I could think about was how much I missed the beautiful presentation and quality of a master chef¡¯s work.


    ¡°I¡¯m going to have to send that man a love letter,¡± I mumbled.


    My stomach growled.


    Romance aside, I still needed calories. I sighed and headed over to the nearest island.


    I was randomly dumping spoonfuls of food onto my plate when a tray dropped down right next to mine. The owner of the tray was standing so close, our shoulders were touching.


    I looked over.


    The kid was sixteen or seventeen years old. He had a bad case of cute, but he seemed unconscious of it. He had longish, unkempt, blond-brown hair that testified to the fact he didn¡¯t like getting haircuts. The top button of his white, uniform dress shirt was undone, and his tie hung down an inch lower than the opening.


    He smiled, so I was able to recognize him, even before he spoke.


    ¡°Who¡¯s your favorite character?¡±


    I grinned. ¡°Well, of course there¡¯s Iroh.¡±


    ¡°Of course,¡± he said.


    ¡°Aang is adorable.¡±


    ¡°As any good hero should be.¡±


    ¡°Sokka is fantastic, and Toph¡ª¡±


    ¡°¡ªToph is a badass queen.¡±


    ¡°Did you ever want to go to sleep on Appa?¡±


    He put a hand to his chest. ¡°Only every day of my life.¡±


    ¡°Then there¡¯s Lord Momo,¡± I said.


    ¡°Of the Momo Dynasty,¡± he said.


    We said in unison, ¡°Your Momo-ness.¡±


    He motioned with his head, ¡°Want to come eat with us, America?¡±


    ¡°What?¡± I looked behind me for a nonexistent crowd. ¡°You mean the whole country, America?¡±


    ¡°Our table¡¯s not that big. We¡¯ll settle for you.¡±


    ¡°Lead the way.¡±


    He nodded to the end of the island. ¡°Don¡¯t forget utensils.¡±


    I grabbed up a pouch and followed him. As we walked further into the dining hall, he nodded to the front of the room. On a raised platform, there was a series of tables shoved end to end. They had chairs instead of benches. Most of the teachers and staff seemed to be eating up there.


    Darius was sitting next to Wuller. They were deep in a discussion. Between Darius and Conrad was an empty seat.


    ¡°I think that chair¡¯s meant for you,¡± Osborn said.


    My stomach sank. I looked away. ¡°Do you guys have assigned seating?¡±


    ¡°God, no. That¡¯s one of Wooly¡¯s guiding principles. Common dining hall. Common dinner hour. We don¡¯t even have to eat with our houses. Sit wherever you want. Every now and then the cool teachers will eat with us if some idiot gets them in lecture mode.¡± He leaned closer. ¡°The only downside is the teachers can also eat with us if we¡¯re behind on an assignment. I¡¯ve turned in papers with food stains.¡±


    ¡°Does that lose more points than bad handwriting?¡±


    ¡°If I turn in a paper, it¡¯s cause for celebration.¡±


    I laughed.


    The tables scattered around the room looked like they were supposed to hold eight to ten people. The one we were approaching already had three boys sitting there. The tall one with dark hair leaned back when he saw us coming.


    ¡°Oh my god, he got her.¡±


    ¡°Never underestimate my charm,¡± Osborn said. ¡°All I had to do was talk Airbender to her, and she was like putty in my hands.¡± He slid onto the bench next to the smaller dark-haired boy and scooted him over. ¡°Come on, America.¡±


    I sat at the end of the bench next to him.


    ¡°Now!¡± he said. ¡°Introductions. I¡¯m Wes Osborn. Call me Wes. This is my main squad.¡±


    He pointed to the tallest kid. His dark brown hair was trimmed short on the sides, and he used hair product to create a stylish look. He had a strong jawline that reminded me of Darius when he was being resolute.


    ¡°That is Eric Reed,¡± Wes said. ¡°He¡¯ll tell his friends to their face that they¡¯re stupid, but he¡¯ll slash a tire if anyone else says it.¡±


    Reed said, ¡°Wes, you are stupid.¡±


    Osborn waved away his observation. He motioned to the next boy.


    He was the smallest of the lot. His hair was longer, and it was combed all to one side. It looked fashionable, but he could never be a model, despite his nice, regular features; his face was too expressive. It morphed through different smiles and smirks, and when he looked at me, his curiosity furrowed his whole brow. He was a living cartoon character.


    Wes said, ¡°That one¡¯s Scott Shipp. He claims he¡¯s not a class clown. Don¡¯t believe him.¡±


    Scott rolled his hand away from his forehead in a weird salute. ¡°It¡¯s a pleasure to meet you.¡±


    Wes leaned back so I could see the kid on the other side of him. He had dark-brown, almost black hair that was neatly trimmed in a classic, low-maintenance style. His face was soft and serious, and when our eyes met, he offered me a simple nod.


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    Osborn was saying, ¡°And this lord among gentlemen will be the only reason any of us pass our A levels. Dustin Walman. The smart one.¡± Wes turned to me. ¡°And your name, m¡¯lady?¡±


    I put down the fork I had barely picked up. ¡°All right, if you call me ¡®m¡¯lady¡¯ again, in that accent, I¡¯m handing you a book of Shakespeare and making you read it to me.¡±


    Scott, the clown, said, ¡°You¡¯d have to hand it to Dustin. Wes would use it as a doorstop.¡±


    Eric Reed shook his head. ¡°No good. Dustin has a Scottish accent.¡±


    I leaned forward to look past Wes. ¡°I don¡¯t mind Scottish.¡±


    Dustin said, ¡°I don¡¯t mind Shakespeare. I think Wes has some American comic books. Will you read them?¡±


    ¡°Sure.¡± I grinned. ¡°I can BAM! and POW! with the best of them.¡±


    Even Eric Reed smiled at that.


    ¡°First you have to tell us your name,¡± Wes reminded me.


    ¡°Emerra Cole¡ª¡±


    Dustin broke in: ¡°H¨¥m¨¦ra? Greek?¡±


    He¡¯d said it. He¡¯d said it right. It caused an odd, cold moment for me. I was so used to Americans making the first E of my name long¡ªsaying the letter, instead of swallowing it back slightly, like you¡¯re supposed to. He¡¯d included the barest hint of an H at the front, but, otherwise, Dustin said it the way I always said it. The way my father had said it.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know where it comes from,¡± I said. ¡°It¡¯s what showed up on my birth certificate.¡±


    ¡°Impressive, right?¡± Wes said. ¡°Dustin went to one of those fancy schools before he landed here. Greek and Latin.¡±


    ¡°Does anyone still speak Latin?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Oh,¡± Wes made a face, ¡°no one.¡±


    ¡°Emerra,¡± Scott said, ¡°are you with them?¡± He nodded up to the front table. ¡°That wolfman and the guy with the suit?¡±


    ¡°Believe it or not, I am. We¡¯re a nice cohesive group.¡±


    Reed¡¯s eyes narrowed. ¡°How old are you?¡±


    I smiled. ¡°Guess.¡±


    Wes blew a breath out through his lips. ¡°Sixteen? Seventeen?¡±


    ¡°Nope.¡±


    ¡°Eighteen?¡± Scott ventured.


    I jerked my thumb upward.


    ¡°Nineteen?¡± Eric said, disbelieving.


    ¡°Twenty,¡± Dustin said.


    I pointed to him. ¡°The smart one wins.¡±


    ¡°Agh!¡± Wes cried. ¡°She can legally drink!¡±


    ¡°Not where I come from.¡±


    Scott shook his head, ¡°You poor thing.¡±


    Reed gestured to me with an open hand. Maybe he was hoping to soften the blow. ¡°You don¡¯t¡­look¡­like an adult.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± I ran a hand over my T-shirt. ¡°My sophisticated dress sense doesn¡¯t demonstrate my maturity?¡±


    ¡°Oh, I think I got a pretty good read on your maturity when you were yelling across the great hall about some stupid cartoon show.¡±


    I blushed.


    Wes clapped his hands over my ears. ¡°Don¡¯t listen to the heretic!¡±


    Reed rolled his eyes.


    ¡°Filth,¡± Wes said. ¡°Heresy and filth! Only your ignorance allows you to get away with that¡ª¡±


    ¡°Careful,¡± Dustin said. ¡°He¡¯s about to launch into a monologue.¡±


    Wes abruptly put his hands down and sat up straight. ¡°I might not.¡±


    Reed, Shipp, and I gazed at Dustin with reverence. All homage to the smart one! Dustin didn¡¯t look up from his plate, but I thought I glimpsed a smirk.


    Osborn went on, ¡°I¡¯d rather hear about our guest. Why are you all here?¡±


    ¡°And where did you get a wolfman?¡± Scott asked. ¡°He¡¯s real, right?¡±


    In point-four seconds, my brain blazed through a web of facts and thoughts to present me with two conclusions: there was no way the students didn¡¯t already know about the Torr visits, and I wasn¡¯t the best at remembering lies. Besides, Darius had only asked me to keep my powers a secret.


    I said, ¡°We were asked by the supernatural community to look into your psychic powers. We got the wolfman because¡­¡± I made a vague gesture with my hand. ¡°You know, it¡¯s a supernatural community.¡±


    ¡°What? Another visit?¡± Reed said.


    ¡°How much do you guys know about them?¡±


    ¡°Everything,¡± Scott said. ¡°The first time you guys sent someone over, Wooly made this big announcement.¡± He did his best to imitate Wuller¡¯s bluff tones: ¡°¡®We have some special guests coming!¡¯¡± Scott took a bite of his roll and went on in his normal voice, talking as he ate. ¡°He basically told us to be on our best behavior, and that he was so proud of all of us. Second time, it was because you guys had questions. Third time, he asked for our patience.¡± His face screwed up in a thoughtful scowl. ¡°He didn¡¯t announce you this time.¡±


    Reed was watching me. ¡°And they¡¯ve never sent over someone from another country.¡± He leaned forward. ¡°Do you know what¡¯s going on?¡±


    ¡°We don¡¯t,¡± I said. ¡°That¡¯s why we¡¯re here.¡±


    Eric sat back with a grunt.


    ¡°Do you know what¡¯s going on?¡± I asked.


    Wes scratched his head. ¡°Not really. Wooly keeps saying that our powers are all manifesting because we have an ¡®encouraging environment.¡¯ He seems to think that¡¯s important. Like, if all the weirdos are stuck together, the weirdness really shines.¡±


    ¡°But you don¡¯t believe that?¡±


    Eric and Scott both shook their heads. Dustin was willing to meet my eyes, but he didn¡¯t comment. We all looked at Wes.


    Osborn shrugged. ¡°It¡¯s hard to say, isn¡¯t it? Sure. That sounds pretty dumb, but what else are you going to blame it on? Do you really believe that Wooly¡¯s drugging the food?¡±


    I felt the urge to turn around and look at the headmaster, but since I¡¯d have to turn all the way around, I thought it¡¯d be too obvious. ¡°Do people say that?¡±


    ¡°Some people. Not me. Wooly¡¯s more likely to take away our drugs than plant them.¡±


    ¡°What does that mean?¡± I asked.


    Scott flourished his hand to get my attention, then used it to point to his chest. ¡°I come in, two doctors¡¯ notes¡ªI¡¯m ADHD. Everyone knows this. My teachers know it. My mum knows it. Even I know it. But Wooly took me aside and told me that if I ever wanted to go off my medication, he could have the school nurse oversee the process. Me!¡± He shook his head at the idea of it. ¡°He thinks it interferes with our brain¡¯s natural course. Duh! That¡¯s the point.¡±


    ¡°Are you still on your medicine?¡±


    ¡°Yeah.¡± He paused and looked around. ¡°Wha¡ªyou¡­you can¡¯t tell?¡±


    I smiled when I saw the adorable, worried, bemused look on his face.


    ¡°Are any of you psychics?¡± I asked.


    Eric and Scott both groaned. Dustin shook his head with dismay.


    ¡°Didn¡¯t I tell you?¡± Wes smiled. ¡°I¡¯m a firebender.¡±


    He put his elbow on the table between our trays and raised his index finger. A rush of flame rose along his finger, until it settled at the tip and burned in a steady flame¡ªa candle without a wick.


    ¡°Iroh is my hero,¡± he said.


    Apparently, he maxed out his allowance of cool for the day with his perfect delivery of that line; immediately afterward, he leaned around to look at his own fire with a dorky grin on his face.


    ¡°Pretty neat, right?¡± he said.


    ¡°Put it away, Osborn.¡±


    I recognized the drawl of the sheep-dog teacher who¡¯d called him out before.


    He stopped by our table. The man was in his late twenties, with dark hair trimmed short and styled so it rode the line between neat and modern. It matched his full beard. Like everyone else in the school, he was wearing a dress shirt, but he wasn¡¯t wearing a blazer or a tie. Instead of slacks, he wore jeans.


    I was a few years out of high school, but I could still recognize one of the cool teachers when I saw them.


    Wes lowered his hand. The flame disappeared. ¡°Sorry, Mr. Turner¡ªbut, in my defense, Miss Cole was sent here to look into the psychics.¡±


    So I was suddenly Miss Cole? I would have to live up to my new found respect.


    I stood up so Mr. Turner and I could shake properly. ¡°Emerra Cole. I¡¯m with the team sent by the Torr.¡±


    He shook my hand. ¡°Ah, yes. The Avatar fan.¡±


    I nodded and tried to keep my expression pleasant and unconcerned. You did it to yourself, Emerra.


    ¡°I¡¯m Paul Turner,¡± he said, ¡°history teacher and head of Salix House. That means I have to keep Osborn from burning down the school. It¡¯s in my contract.¡±


    ¡°Mr. Turner,¡± Wes said, ¡°can we skip prep today? Miss Cole needs a tour of the school.¡±


    ¡°And I¡¯m sure she needs all four of you to give it to her.¡±


    Osborn glanced at his friends, then smiled up at his teacher. ¡°Obviously.¡±


    With a smile like that, the kid could get away with murder.


    Turner said to me, ¡°I would have thought that Mr. Wuller had some plans for you this evening.¡±


    ¡°I think he¡¯s planning on talking to Darius¡ªMr. Vasil.¡± When Turner glanced up at the head table, I added, ¡°The one in the suit.¡±


    ¡°They do look like they¡¯ll get along nicely.¡± He leaned over and said out of the side of his mouth, ¡°Would you like an excuse to get out of it, Miss Cole?¡±


    That was the kind of offer I would expect from one of the only three people in the room wearing jeans. We were kindred spirits.


    ¡°If you don¡¯t mind,¡± I said. ¡°And if it won¡¯t interrupt their school work too much.¡±


    ¡°Walman¡¯s fine. Reed should be fine. Osborn is trying his hardest to be hopeless.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re just back from break!¡± Wes said.


    ¡°It¡¯s been a week. Come to think of it, Montes gave you work today. Have you finished it?¡±


    Wes scratched his head again.


    The teacher held up two fingers. ¡°Promise me two good hours of work before lights out, and I¡¯ll write a pass that¡¯ll be good until eight o¡¯clock.¡±


    ¡°Yes, sir, Mr. Turner!¡±


    ¡°Shipp, you¡¯ll have to clear it with Damshakle before you join them.¡±


    ¡°Yes, Mr. Turner,¡± Scott said.


    Turner sighed. ¡°I¡¯d better go get my pass book.¡±


    He left. I sat back down.


    ¡°You heard him, men!¡± Wes said. ¡°We have until twenty hundred. Commence shoveling.¡±


    The five of us laid into our food.

 Chapter 8 - Miller and Conrad

    Miller was sitting next to the wolfman.


    It wasn¡¯t that he wanted to be sitting next to him, but the only two open seats at the head table had been between the wolfman and Mr. Vasil, or between the wolfman and the end of the table. With the choice between two intimidating strangers or one, Alex Miller had opted for the one.


    He had hoped that Miss Cole would show up. She seemed friendly (not to mention less terrifying), but by the time he caught sight of her, Wes Osborn was already leading her toward his table.


    Miller hummed, then muttered, ¡°He caught another one.¡±


    ¡°Who did?¡± The wolfman asked.


    Miller jumped. He had tried to engage the wolfman in conversation several times and had only received monosyllabic responses in return. He never expected Conrad Bauer to actually say something to him.


    Once he recovered, Miller motioned with his glass. ¡°Wes Osborn. One of the contenders for king of the school.¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°King of the school,¡± Miller repeated. He finished taking a drink and put his glass down. ¡°Surely, you know. The effortlessly popular. The person that everyone knows. Our microcosm is a bit competitive¡ªit has four in the running¡ªbut Osborn¡¯s unique because he doesn¡¯t seem to know he¡¯s in the running.¡±


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    Miller tried to look up at the wolfman and almost succeeded before his nerves gave out.


    ¡°Didn¡¯t you have a king at your school?¡± Miller asked.


    As soon as the question was out of his mouth, he grimaced. Could something like that even go to school?


    ¡°My school was a lot smaller,¡± Conrad said.


    Miller¡¯s eyebrows shot up. Apparently, they could.


    He grabbed for his water again and wished it was the weekend. He could do with some wine. He took a drink and laid the glass down.


    ¡°Anyway,¡± he said, ¡°Osborn seems to have captured Miss Cole. Maybe it¡¯s fitting. At least we know they have something in common.¡± He picked up his fork and played with his food for a few seconds before he worked up the courage to say, ¡°That Miss Cole¡ªcan she handle herself pretty well, do you think?¡±


    ¡°It depends on what¡¯s trying to kill her.¡±


    There was a clatter when Miller dropped his fork on his plate.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry. What did you say?¡±


    The corner of Conrad¡¯s lips lifted. He looked down at the personal assistant. ¡°It depends on what¡¯s asked of her.¡±


    ¡°Oh.¡± Miller let out a weak laugh. He picked up his fork again. ¡°Right.¡±


    ¡°Should we be worried about her?¡±


    The assistant squeezed and flexed the hand that was under the table. He wasn¡¯t used to that kind of direct question.


    ¡°Not¡­uh, not exactly. I have no doubt¡ª¡± He sliced through the air with his utensil. ¡°No doubt at all when it comes to a question of Miss Cole¡¯s behavior, but¡­well¡­you know about our students.¡± He flexed his hidden hand again. ¡°Don¡¯t you?¡±


    Conrad shifted in his seat so he could look at Miller with both eyes. ¡°No, I don¡¯t. Tell me about your students.¡±


    Miller swallowed.

 Chapter 9 - The Tour

    What the boys gave me was less of a tour, and more of a wandering conversation. Every once in a while, they pointed out a place of interest to them, but the building was so huge and their input was so sporadic, ten minutes into our ¡°tour,¡± I was more confused than when we had started. Five minutes after that, I gave up on trying to create a mental map of the building and focused on enjoying the boys¡¯ company.


    It would have been impossible not to enjoy it to some degree. Scott and Wes were so full of enthusiasm, they made me¡ªme!¡ªfeel every bit my venerable age. If I hung around them too long, I¡¯d probably wind up using the phrase ¡°whippersnapper¡± and complaining about technology. Eric wasn¡¯t as animated, but he carried his own steady energy, like a torch. It was enough to corral and direct Scott and Wes away from their dumbest plans. Dustin seemed to be rest incarnate¡ªa pool of calm that his friends couldn¡¯t ruffle. He rarely spoke unless someone spoke to him first, but they all did. They would come back, walk beside him for a step or two, draw out a comment, and dash off again.


    I wondered if they came to him to get a break.


    I stayed back with Dustin and allowed myself to be entertained by the other boys¡¯ antics (which I suspected they made more lively for my benefit).


    It was nice to be somewhere I was wanted.


    My stomach soured, just like it had when I had looked up at the head table in the dining room.


    Come on, Emerra. You have to let it go. Conrad probably likes you a lot better now. So you¡¯re winning, right?


    My stomach didn¡¯t seem to agree.


    ¡°Are you tired?¡± Dustin asked.


    ¡°Huh?¡± I said.


    ¡°You flew in today, didn¡¯t you?¡±


    What a sweet kid.


    ¡°What are you talking about?¡± I forced a smile. ¡°As far as I¡¯m concerned, it¡¯s the middle of the afternoon.¡±


    ¡°Hmmm. And what time did you wake up?¡±


    My smile changed to a grin. ¡°You are the smart one.¡±


    He blushed and studied his shoes as we walked.


    From further down the hall, Wes called. ¡°Hey! The biology room!¡±


    Scott ran up to Wes¡¯s side. ¡°Is it¡ªis it open?¡±


    Eric meandered toward them.


    Wes tried the handle and laughed. ¡°God bless you, Mr. Robson!¡±


    He threw the door wide and planted himself in front of it so it wouldn¡¯t close. Scott darted in. Eric wandered through.


    As Dustin and I approached, Wes flourished his arm to indicate the open portal.


    Despite the fancy welcome, I stopped outside the door. Something about the darkness of the room made my nerves whisper like wind chimes shivering in a cold breeze. It was strong enough to move them, but not enough to make them sound. If I walked through that door, I thought the shadows might swallow me whole.


    ¡°Oh, come on, Dustin,¡± Wes said.


    I looked beside me. Dustin was frowning.


    ¡°You know we¡¯re not supposed to be in there,¡± he said. ¡°We¡¯ll get in trouble if we¡¯re caught.¡±


    Wes put his arm around his friend. ¡°And you know that won¡¯t stop me.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s the biology room,¡± Dustin said. ¡°I don¡¯t want to be in there during the day¡ªwhy would I want to go in there now?¡±


    ¡°Because Emerra hasn¡¯t met George yet.¡±


    ¡°George?¡± I said.


    Wes patted his hand against Dustin¡¯s chest. ¡°If Dustin, here, is the smart one, then Sir George is the funny one.¡±


    Scott called from inside the room, ¡°I thought I was the funny one!¡±


    ¡°No, you¡¯re the clown,¡± Wes shouted.


    ¡°Clowns are funny.¡±


    ¡°No one thinks clowns are funny,¡± Eric said in a voice that allowed no argument.


    Scott argued anyway. ¡°Well, I think, I think¡±¡ªhe paused for dramatic effect¡ª¡°it depends on the clown.¡±


    ¡°Is there a light we can turn on?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Not without getting caught,¡± Wes said.


    I sighed and stepped through the door. George had better be hilarious.


    The room had several windows that admitted the weak moonlight that had managed to filter through the clouds, giving us something to see by. As my eyes adjusted, I could make out the imperfect rows of old desks, the educational posters along the walls, and the various models stacked on the bookshelf in the back. Eric and Scott were standing by the teacher¡¯s desk.


    I walked over to them. Wes and Dustin were only a step behind me.


    ¡°And Sir George?¡± I asked.


    Scott grinned like the Cheshire cat and stepped aside, giving me a full view of the hanging skeleton behind him.


    For a second, I stared. Then I threw back my head and laughed.


    Wes said, ¡°I told you, he¡¯s the funny one.¡±


    ¡°This is George?¡± I said.


    If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    ¡°After George who went to slay the dragon,¡± Scott explained.


    ¡°This was all that was left of him,¡± Eric added.


    I twisted my head and peered at the skull. ¡°I don¡¯t know. He looks more like a Jacky to me.¡±


    ¡°Oh!¡± Scott bounced behind the skeleton and bent its right arm bones up at the elbow. The skeleton¡¯s limp hand dangled off the wired wrist. ¡°He¡¯s very pleased to meet you.¡±


    I shook the bony hand. ¡°Likewise.¡± I leaned in and said to George, ¡°You know, it¡¯s my first time meeting a knight.¡±


    ¡°You know what we should do?¡± Wes blurted out. ¡°We should take him and put him in Mr. Macguire¡¯s chair. Make the old man think he can do astral projection.¡±


    Eric squinted at the skeleton. ¡°They do look a bit alike.¡±


    ¡°Wes,¡± Dustin said, ¡°he¡¯s the chemistry teacher.¡±


    ¡°And?¡± Wes said.


    ¡°With all those chemicals and equipment, what are the chances that he forgot to lock his room?¡±


    Scott hugged the skeleton from behind. ¡°Then we should take him home with us! Georgie probably gets all lonely in here. In the dark. By himself.¡±


    As much as I liked Sir George, I didn¡¯t want to be involved in a kidnapping. I hunted for a way to change the subject.


    ¡°Can any of the students here do astral projection?¡± I asked.


    The boys paused.


    Scott let go of his skinny friend and came out from behind him. ¡°Not on demand.¡±


    ¡°Not yet,¡± Eric said.


    I looked from face to face. ¡°Not¡­on demand?¡±


    ¡°Most of the psychics can¡¯t use their powers on demand.¡± Eric nodded to Osborn. ¡°Wes is an exception.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s what makes me their king,¡± said Wes, the world¡¯s most humble kid.


    There was a general chorus of groaning and derisive noises.


    ¡°Your peasants don¡¯t seem to be rejoicing, Your Majesty,¡± I said.


    Wes made a pssssh sound. ¡°These aren¡¯t my peasants. None of them are psychics.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, yeah,¡± Scott grumbled. ¡°Rub it in, why don¡¯t you?¡±


    ¡°And you can call up your powers whenever you want?¡± I asked Wes.


    He offered me one of his million-dollar smiles. ¡°Want to see?¡±


    I looked around at the others. ¡°What do you guys think?¡±


    Peasant Dustin was the first to speak up. ¡°If it gets us out of here¡ªyes.¡±


    ¡°I suppose we can indulge him,¡± Scott said. ¡°This once.¡±


    ¡°If we have to,¡± Eric grumbled.


    On the way out of the room, Scott kissed George¡¯s jawbone and renewed his pledge of eternal brotherhood.


    Wes led us through the halls for what felt like a mile, until we reached the lowest, furthest corner of the main building. When he got to the double doors, he opened one of them without hesitation, completely confident that it would be unlocked. He was right.


    I walked through the door into a small, derelict gym.


    ¡°The old game room!¡± Wes said. He closed the door after Dustin made it inside. ¡°And our new play room.¡±


    The room included two basketball hoops, even though the floor wasn¡¯t large enough to be a full-sized court. Both of the hoops were hinged and pushed up to keep them out of the way. The majority of the floor was dominated by a series of mats, about two inches thick and covered with tightly woven material. They looked scorched. On the side was a row of bleachers, and beyond them were a bunch of chair-desks shoved together, out of the way of the floor.


    Wes took me by the shoulders and hustled me over to the bleachers.


    ¡°Front and center, Miss Cole.¡±


    ¡°Oh. I¡¯m Miss Cole again,¡± I noted.


    ¡°Of course. I¡¯m showing off for you officially.¡±


    I rolled my eyes as I sat down in the center of the third row. Scott and Eric sat on the front row and started jeering to set the mood. Dustin sat near me.


    As Wes walked to the center of the mats, I leaned over and said to Dustin, ¡°Aren¡¯t you going to join in the booing?¡±


    ¡°These guys can handle it.¡±


    ¡°If you don¡¯t mind me saying, you seem¡­quieter¡­than the rest of them.¡±


    He shrugged.


    ¡°How did you fall in with them?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Wes is my bunkmate.¡±


    I smiled. ¡°Yeah. That would do it.¡±


    ¡°The first year it was probably luck, but I think Turner did it on purpose this year.¡±


    ¡°Wes kidnapped you without even thinking about it, didn¡¯t he?¡±


    An unassuming smile appeared on Dustin¡¯s normally serious face. ¡°Yeah, but I don¡¯t mind. It gets noisy, but Wes actually likes people. That¡¯s who he is¡ªthis dumb friend who¡¯s always happy to see you, even if the last time he saw you was five minutes ago.¡±


    I thought about Charlie, a therapy dog I used to know. I could still picture his tail wagging so hard his butt wagged with it.


    ¡°It¡¯s nice, isn¡¯t it?¡± I said softly.


    Dustin nodded.


    Wes had made his way to the middle of the floor. As he cuffed his sleeves up above his elbows, he called out, ¡°Ladies, gentlemen, and unnecessary hecklers¡ª¡±


    ¡°Do a flip!¡± Scott shouted.


    ¡°¡ªI present to you my modest talents with pyrokinesis.¡±


    Scott and Eric fell silent.


    Wes stood with his arms out to his sides. Nothing happened. Then, slowly, a low red flame rolled from his elbows, over his forearms, and gathered at his hands. The flames grew, building up along his arms until they reached his shoulders. I could see his fingers, as he moved them back and forth in the fire. He laughed and spun in a circle, creating a blurred ring of illumination.


    ¡°And that doesn¡¯t burn him?¡± I was too mesmerized to do anything but mutter.


    ¡°No.¡± Dustin sounded indifferent. He¡¯d probably seen the show several times before. ¡°If he concentrates right, it doesn¡¯t even burn his clothes.¡±


    Wes stopped turning. He scowled in concentration. The fire on his arms wandered away from his body until they hovered four inches off his palms. The tiny flames still running along his fingers leapt toward the floating fires.


    ¡°Whoa.¡± I scooted to the edge of the bench.


    Wes spun again. The hovering fires followed his lead. He swirled, moving his arms up and down, making the flames roll through the air, creating a corkscrew of light.


    I felt a hand on my arm.


    ¡°If you lean any further forward,¡± Dustin said, ¡°you¡¯re going to fall off the bench.¡±


    I scooted back. ¡°It so beautiful.¡±


    Dustin looked from me, up to his friend. The orange-red light cast shadows across his calm face. ¡°I guess it is.¡±


    Wes came to a stop. The fires hovering off his hands dwindled, jumped back to him, sailed over his palms, and sank into his skin. He lowered his arms to his sides.


    I stood up, laughing, clapping, and whistling the best I could. Even Eric and Scott showed grudging approval.


    I walked over to Wes. The other boys followed me.


    ¡°Amazing, sir. Amazing,¡± I said. ¡°Miss Cole is officially impressed.¡±


    When Wes bowed, flecks of sweat dropped to the floor. ¡°Thank you. Thank you.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve gotten better at controlling it,¡± Eric said.


    ¡°Good thing,¡± Scott said. ¡°You know. Fire and all.¡±


    ¡°Do other fires burn you?¡± I asked.


    Wes straightened up. ¡°Like, normal fire? I¡¯m not sure. It probably depends on my concentration.¡±


    ¡°What about other people¡¯s fires?¡±


    ¡°You mean from other pyros? Uhhh, I don¡¯t know that either.¡±


    I walked around him, looking for any of the small signs I¡¯d learned to associate with magic. There was nothing. Not a glimmer of white. Not a speck of blue or purple.


    ¡°What are you doing?¡± Eric asked.


    ¡°I¡¯m looking for the wires.¡± I motioned to the grinning Wes Osborn. ¡°This has to be a trick.¡±


    Wes hooked his thumbs into a set of make-believe suspenders. ¡°Nope! That¡¯s all pure, in-born talent.¡±


    Eric backhanded his arm.


    ¡°Can the other pyros control their flames?¡± I asked. ¡°And you call them pyros?¡±


    ¡°Why not?¡± Wes said.


    ¡°It makes you sound like a bunch of pyromaniacs.¡±


    ¡°Duh,¡± Scott said. ¡°They¡¯re crazy after all.¡±


    ¡°Most of the others have some control of their flames,¡± Wes explained, ¡°but I¡¯m the only one that can call them up every time I want to.¡±


    ¡°How many pyros do you have?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Lots. It looks flashy, but in the world of psychics, it¡¯s not all that special. That¡¯s why I have to show off so much.¡±


    ¡°Well, obviously.¡±


    ¡°There are a few telekinetics that are getting pretty good with their power,¡± Eric said.


    ¡°They¡¯ve got the special talent,¡± Scott added. ¡°They can use their powers whenever they want. The pyros and the ergos get sent to¡±¡ªhe lowered his voice¡ª¡°the dungeon.¡±


    ¡°Here,¡± Wes said. ¡°He means here. This is the dungeon.¡±


    ¡°Can anyone fly?¡± I asked.


    ¡°We have¡­five levitators?¡± Wes said. ¡°I think? But they can only do it when they¡¯re asleep, and no one¡¯s gotten higher than a few feet above the nearest surface.¡±


    ¡°What about an empath?¡±


    I didn¡¯t need psychic powers to feel the sudden shift in mood. The boys all went quiet.


    I lowered my voice, ¡°Telepathy?¡±


    Behind me, Eric said, ¡°That¡¯s the holy grail.¡±


    I turned to look at him. His face was grim.


    ¡°That¡¯s the one that Wuller¡¯s really looking for,¡± he said.


    I thought back to the information packet Iset had put together. Empathy and telepathy were considered the most rare and advanced of the psychic abilities.


    ¡°You don¡¯t have one?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Not yet,¡± Scott said.


    Eric added, ¡°And I don¡¯t know if this will stop until we do.¡±

 Chapter 10 - Principal Vibes

    The boys were going to be late getting back to their houses, but they wouldn¡¯t leave until I had assured them, three times, that I knew where I was and I could get back to my room¡ªno, really, it¡¯s right there! I can see the door! I shooed them away, then stood and watched them walk down the hall.


    They were a nice bunch of kids, and they made a good group. There were enough differences they complimented each other, but they had all the important things in common¡ªlike a good heart. I envied them. My own attempts to make friends in school didn¡¯t always go so well. When it did go well, I wound up moving away. Then there was the hospital. And the hospice¡ª


    I shook my head to clear it of my dismal thoughts and sternly reminded myself that I¡¯d had a friend at the hospice, and we¡¯d kept our promise to stay with each other to the end. We¡¯d made the vow in jest, but we kept it all the same.


    At least, I had. Ms. Elstein had done her best, but neither of us had expected my life to get a 2.0. I could forgive her for that.


    I turned and headed to my rooms. When I entered, I found Darius and Conrad waiting for me. Conrad was on the couch. Darius was in the armchair. They were both watching me. Darius¡¯s elbows were on his knees and his expression was stern. I glanced at the wolfman. I could see a slight frown at the edge of his muzzle.


    My stomach went cold.


    Which was ridiculous! Totally ridiculous! Maybe the high school atmosphere was getting to me, but I couldn¡¯t help thinking of all the times I¡¯d had to meet with the principal of whatever my current school was, and my latest foster parents.


    ¡°Hey, guys,¡± I said.


    ¡°Emerra,¡± the count said, ¡°we need to talk to you.¡±


    The way he said it only heightened the principal¡¯s office vibes.


    I closed the door and walked closer. I didn¡¯t sit down. ¡°What can I do for you?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s about those boys.¡±


    For a second I thought about saying ¡°what boys?¡± but I caught myself. Playing dumb was a worthless coping mechanism at the best of times, and anyway, this wasn¡¯t an argument.


    The skin on the back of my neck prickled¡ªeven though it wasn¡¯t an argument.


    ¡°You mean Wes and the others?¡± I said. ¡°Is there a problem?¡±


    ¡°You need to be careful.¡±


    The first blush of heat moved into my cheeks. ¡°Darius, I can take care of myself. Despite what you think, I am an adult.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re barely an adult, and you might weigh a hundred pounds if we soaked your whole outfit in water and put weights in your pockets.¡±


    ¡°Cool. In the meantime, you¡¯re a hundred-something years old and can slip through a two millimeter gap. What¡¯s your point?¡±


    ¡°Most of those boys are bigger than you, and some of them have dangerous powers. You went off with four of them tonight¡ªwithout telling us where you were going, I might add¡ª¡±


    ¡°Are you going to pretend you didn¡¯t hear us talking? And barely or not, I¡¯m still an adult. Last I checked, that means I don¡¯t have to check-in with you about anything.¡±


    The vampire¡¯s face darkened. ¡°The last I checked, you had agreed to help us find out what¡¯s happening at this school. If we¡¯re working together, courtesy says you could have at least told one of us what you were doing.¡±


    I clamped my mouth shut and took a second to breathe. I didn¡¯t speak until my emotions were clear enough I could say what I needed to.


    ¡°You¡¯re right, Darius. I¡¯m sorry. I thought you would have heard me, and I thought you wanted me to work with the students.¡±


    ¡°I do. And when you work with them, I want you to be careful.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°All of the online resources and brochures failed to paint a complete picture of Setlan on Lee¡¯s student body. Wuller is trying to attract a particular kind of student to his program, but the school is new and the program is¡­unique. Not many parents are willing to send their children to a school where the headmaster is openly engaging in paranormal research.¡±


    I scowled. ¡°Wait. Wooly¡ªWuller advertises this place for psychics?¡±


    ¡°The brochures say they ¡®cultivate an encouraging atmosphere for boys with unusual abilities.¡¯ They also say that the school is a good place for ¡®distinctive personalities¡¯ and ¡®a haven for those who¡¯re misunderstood.¡¯¡±


    ¡°Sounds great. Where do I sign up?¡±


    Darius went on, ¡°What the school actually became is a dumping ground for problem students from across the island.¡±


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    ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    ¡°Over half of the students have an underage criminal record. Many of them have mental health problems. Setlan on Lee had to take them in to pay the bills.¡±


    ¡°Okay. And?¡±


    Darius paused, then laced his fingers together and brought them up toward his face. ¡°Did you understand me, Emerra? They could be dangerous. Over half of these boys have been to the equivalent of juvenile detention. Some of them are violent. They were admitted here as a last chance.¡±


    ¡°Oh, wow,¡± I gasped. ¡°Do you know what that means?¡±


    Conrad¡¯s ears flattened when he heard my tone. Vasil¡¯s face turned into a stony mask.


    ¡°What?¡± the vampire said.


    ¡°Nothing. It means nothing,¡± I said. ¡°They¡¯ve been to British Juvie? Who cares! You don¡¯t know them, Darius Vasil. And you can spare me your warnings until you do.¡±


    ¡°Why are you so angry about this?¡± Conrad asked.


    When I looked over, his brow was creased and his ears were low.


    That didn¡¯t stop me from shouting, ¡°Because you don¡¯t know them! You don¡¯t know what happened or why they got in trouble, and I¡¯m not going to treat them like a bunch of hopeless criminals! Those four I met tonight¡ª¡±


    Darius broke in: ¡°If you met them tonight, I don¡¯t think you can claim to know them either.¡±


    ¡°I know them better than you do.¡±


    Conrad tilted his head. ¡°Emerra, did you have a record?¡±


    Someone must have hauled out my internal organs and dumped them in a vat of liquid nitrogen. They were frosted over. Wisps of cold air filled me. One wrong move could shatter them all.


    ¡°That¡¯s none of your business.¡± My words came out as a whisper. ¡°And after what you¡¯ve said, you can¡¯t imagine I would tell you if I did.¡±


    ¡°Conrad hasn¡¯t said anything,¡± Darius said.


    I turned. ¡°That¡¯s right. It was you. Thank you for your concern, Mr. Vasil. Tell me when you find a boy that raped someone or tortured animals. Until then, I hope you¡¯ll understand if I don¡¯t lock myself away.¡±


    Well, that was done. I¡¯d said enough¡ªprobably more than enough¡ªand my anger had run dry. I crossed my arms and waited to see what they would do. All the rest of my organs had thawed, but my stomach was still frozen. I could feel the icy drips.


    Darius watched me for another second, then turned his eyes to Conrad. The wolfman¡¯s ears were still low, but they weren¡¯t flat.


    The count sighed, then said in a mellow voice, ¡°Did you learn anything tonight?¡±


    Relief rose through me. I tried to ignore it¡ªor, at least, not let them see it¡ªas I told them what I¡¯d learned from Wes and his crew.


    By the time I was finished, Darius was leaning back in his chair. His hand was resting on his face, and he stared at the floor as he thought.


    ¡°So Eric¡­Reed?¡± Darius raised his eyes to me.


    I nodded.


    ¡°Eric Reed thinks that this is somehow being deliberately done to them. There are probably others who think the same.¡±


    ¡°Probably a lot of others,¡± I said. ¡°If the boys have been talking about whether or not Wuller¡¯s been poisoning the water¡­¡±


    I didn¡¯t know where the sentence was going, so I let it wander off on its own.


    ¡°Has that been checked?¡± Conrad asked.


    ¡°The water specifically? I don¡¯t know,¡± Darius said. ¡°The reports from the Torr only stated that they hadn¡¯t found an external cause for the sudden manifestations.¡±


    ¡°What did they check?¡± I said.


    ¡°I think I¡¯ll call and ask them.¡± Darius stood up and went over to his laptop.


    ¡°Right now?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s early yet.¡± He clicked through a few screens, then shut the computer down and closed the lid. ¡°After that, I think I might wander around the school for a while.¡±


    Why not? I thought. This old building is bound to have two millimeter gaps everywhere.


    Normally, I would have said it out loud. Darius was always willing to joke with me about being a vampire, but I was still on edge from our argument. I wasn¡¯t going to poke those logs until I was sure the embers were cold.


    As the count crossed behind the couch, he put a hand on Conrad¡¯s shoulder. ¡°You should get some rest.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not even nine,¡± the wolfman said.


    ¡°You didn¡¯t sleep on the plane. Tomorrow there¡¯ll be plenty of work to do. You might as well get some rest while you can.¡±


    Conrad raised a hand to show he¡¯d heard the vampire. I needed to remember that trick. Acknowledgment without commitment.


    Darius hesitated. When he spoke, he didn¡¯t completely raise his eyes to look at me. ¡°Are you thinking of going out again, Emerra?¡±


    I swallowed and shook my head. ¡°No. I¡­uh¡­I think I¡¯ll curl up with those reports from Iset. Unless there¡¯s anything you want me to do?¡±


    ¡°I think getting some more background information is a good idea.¡±


    I nodded.


    ¡°Please keep the door closed,¡± Darius said, ¡°otherwise the veil won¡¯t work.¡±


    ¡°Got it.¡±


    The count checked his pocket for his phone and left. The second the door closed, I put a hand to my head and groaned through my grit teeth. It made a weird duuuuuuugh sound.


    I opened my mouth¡ªthe words were all lined up and ready to shoot out¡ªbut then I remembered the listening ears I was about to unload on were fluffy, pointed, and belonged to the wolfman I had promised myself I wouldn¡¯t annoy more than necessary.


    I had already done enough to alienate my friends that evening.


    Friends? Ha! What was Darius always calling me? His colleague?


    I had already done enough to alienate my colleagues.


    I swallowed my words. They got caught by the lump in my throat, but I swallowed that too and went over to the desk where Iset¡¯s reports were waiting.


    ¡°Do you need to use the bathroom before I get ready for bed?¡± Conrad asked.


    I tried to smile for him. ¡°No. Thank you. Will it be a problem if I sneak by while you¡¯re asleep?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll leave the door unlocked so you can get in if you need to.¡±


    ¡°Thank you.¡±


    He stood up and went to the bedroom. I took the papers back to the couch and tried to read, but it was a few minutes before I could get myself to focus. I kept staring at the shimmering, purple-blue veil while my aimless thoughts chased each other around my head.


    The bars divided the window into tall, thin sections.


    The curtains had been stripped away. White, lean rectangles of moonlight stretched across the floor. I sat with my back to the cold wall. My neck was twisted so I could look up and out the window beside me.


    All I wanted was to see the night sky. All I wanted¡ª


    My neck ached. I ignored it. There were other hot spots of pain: my tailbone, my hips, the sides of my knees, my shoulder blades. I ignored them all.


    This was mine. This was something they couldn¡¯t take away from me. I would never let them know.


    I would scoot myself along my bed, agonizing minute after agonizing minute, until I could push myself up and look through the bars in my window.


    My heart ached and ached. There was triumph there, but it was a low tone in the long scream of yearning.


    All I wanted was to go outside, lay on the grass, and look up at the sky.

 Chapter 11 - The Wall

    Vasil came back as the sun was rising. My window wasn¡¯t facing east, but I could see the traces of light shining through the sky. In the distance, the tree tops glimmered.


    I looked around when the count entered. He stopped short when he saw me sitting in the desk chair I had pulled up to the window.


    ¡°Emerra? What are you doing?¡±


    I managed to lift one shoulder in a shrug. ¡°Just¡­looking at the sky.¡±


    ¡°Did you get any sleep?¡±


    ¡°Some.¡±


    ¡°Is it jet lag?¡±


    I shook my head.


    The vampire let out a sigh and ran a hand through his hair. His hand dropped back to his side as he wandered toward me. ¡°Emerra, I need to apologize to you. Would you be willing to hear me out?¡±


    I felt oddly mute, so I nodded.


    Darius Vasil looked in my eyes. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. I know that I can come across as¡­imperious¡­but I never meant to imply that you were immature or that you couldn¡¯t handle yourself under normal circumstances. But I would like you to try to understand the situation from my perspective. For almost a hundred years, I¡¯ve been able to lift cars, throw fully grown men across a building with one hand, and when I break a bone, it heals in two days. To me, you seem¡­a little¡­¡±


    ¡°Weak?¡±


    Vasil frowned.


    ¡°It¡¯s okay,¡± I said. ¡°I know I¡¯m weak. You can say it.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t think I can. But I do know you can¡¯t lift cars, and your healing seems to be only as good as a normal human¡¯s, and it¡¯s my job to protect people, so, yes, I worry about you.¡±


    ¡°Thank you, Darius. Now here¡¯s my apology. I¡¯m sorry for losing my temper. I¡¯d explain why I lost my temper, but it¡¯s probably because I¡¯m immature and can¡¯t handle myself.¡±


    I heard a quiet snort of laughter from Darius, and his closed-lip smile appeared.


    ¡°Are we good?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Yes, I think we¡¯re good.¡±


    ¡°Kay. In the meantime, I had a nightmare.¡±


    The count froze, then he moved toward the bedroom door. ¡°I¡¯ll get Conrad.¡±


    I grabbed his pant leg before he could escape. ¡°Hold up. It¡¯s not¡ªjust¡­Look! I heard you out, and now you have to hear me out!¡±


    He stepped back and sat on the edge of the windowsill without saying anything. He was all super-humanly keen ears.


    I tried to explain. I¡¯m sure I stuttered and backtracked when I lost my focus or got too close to sounding sad or weird, but I think I got the general idea across. Yes, I was a seer, and yes, some of my dreams were important. But I¡¯d been having nightmares long before I woke up in my casket with the Eyes of the Sphinx. I¡¯d had them on and off my whole life, and I always had them when I came to a new place. I didn¡¯t know how to tell which nightmares were important.


    Halfway through my talk, Darius¡¯s hand wandered up to his face. It was still there when I was done. All he did was stare at the floor and rub his jaw. If my hearing had been half as good as his, I could have heard the cogs turning in his head.


    ¡°Tell me your dream,¡± he said.


    I told him, then shut my mouth.


    He turned to the window.


    ¡°It wasn¡¯t this one,¡± I said.


    He glanced at me.


    I raised my hand in a half-hearted gesture. ¡°It¡¯s¡­it¡¯s the wrong shape. And there¡¯s no sign that there were ever bars.¡±


    ¡°You checked?¡±


    I nodded.


    ¡°All right. And you only had this dream once?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, but I couldn¡¯t fall asleep again after that.¡±


    The last time I¡¯d had a seer¡¯s dream, it had been kind enough to repeat itself, night after night, for days on end. That was a handy clue I should have picked up on faster. Here, idiot, you get this on repeat until you understand what¡¯s going on.


    ¡°Please let me know if you have it again,¡± Darius said. ¡°For now we¡¯ll focus on our original plan.¡±


    ¡°We had one of those?¡±


    ¡°I certainly did. I¡¯ll have breakfast with you before grabbing a few hours of sleep. This afternoon, we have an appointment with Wuller and Aaron Reisig.¡±


    ¡°Who¡¯s Aaron Reisig?¡±


    ¡°Wuller calls him a ¡®psychic consultant.¡¯¡±


    ¡°Is he like a counselor or something?¡±


    ¡°More like a teacher, but they don¡¯t give teaching credentials if you¡¯re mentoring people on how to handle psychic powers. He and Wuller are going to bring in some of the boys to demonstrate their abilities. Until then, I¡¯d like you to start looking around the school.¡±


    ¡°For magic?¡±


    ¡°Or anything that seems unusual. For now, try to stay where it¡¯d be reasonable for you to be.¡±


    ¡°Is that code for ¡®I don¡¯t want you doing any breaking and entering?¡¯¡±


    ¡°Well¡­not yet. And try not to disturb any classes.¡±


    I grinned.


    ¡°What¡¯s so funny?¡± Darius asked.


    ¡°We may have to do some breaking and entering, but heaven forbid we disrupt a high school class.¡±


    The count pointed at me. ¡°Education is important. So is finding out what¡¯s going on around here.¡±


    ¡°Gotcha.¡±


    After eating breakfast with Wes and the others, I chased Miller down to ask him for a map of the school.


    ¡°A map?¡± he said. ¡°Are you planning on exploring, Miss Cole?¡±


    ¡°Heck, yeah! Dude, I¡¯m from America. Do you think we have buildings like this over there?¡±


    Miller¡¯s smile was asymmetrical. It made him look uneasy, even when he was relaxed. When he was uneasy (which seemed to be most of the time) it made it look worse.


    ¡°Would a guide be more useful?¡± he asked.


    My mind glitched from trying to process too many thoughts at once.


    Yes, a guide would be more useful. I wasn¡¯t good with maps. I could¡­probably?¡­still look around if they were with me. Maybe? It¡¯d look weird though. Of course, I already looked weird. But what if I needed to linger in a room? What kind of an excuse could I make up? Besides, who would be the guide? I thought everyone would be working.


    I looked up at Miller. ¡°Do you have work?¡±


    Miller blushed. The pink color crept from his neck all the way up to his hairline.


    If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.


    I hadn¡¯t meant anything by my comment, but I did get a mischievous kick out of listening to him stammer.


    ¡°Why¡­I¡­uh. Well, I¡¯m afraid¡ªI don¡¯t, you see¡­well, I¡ªyou want me to do it?¡±


    I could have said ¡°who else is there?¡± but that wouldn¡¯t be any fun at all, so instead I smiled at him and chirped, ¡°Sure.¡±


    The pinkness intensified.


    Oh, this was too cute. Being the only female in a huge school had some perks. Before that moment, I never would have thought of myself as an evil villain character, but I was showing definite signs of wanting to abuse my new-found power.


    He cleared his throat. ¡°Well, I¡¯m afraid I can¡¯t. I do have work to do.¡±


    ¡°Oh.¡± I allowed myself to sound disappointed. ¡°Then I guess I¡¯ll take a map.¡±


    That got him. No man alive, let alone a gentleman wearing a dress shirt and tie, would dream of arguing with the girl he just rejected. Chalk one up for the bald femme fatale.


    Miller took me back to Wuller¡¯s outer office, got me a map, and pointed out where the boy¡¯s private dorms were¡ªmost likely as a warning to stay away from them. Then he took me back to the staircase off the great hall, and sent me on my way.


    I went down without thinking about it, but most of the rooms on the second floor were classrooms or dorms. I decided it¡¯d be a better idea to start on the third floor. While wandering around, I found a set of stairs I hadn¡¯t been expecting. After frowning at the map for almost a minute, I decided to take them. The stairs were going up, therefore they were the right direction. Even if the map didn¡¯t know it.


    The stairwell was tall, dark, and silent. The cold stones of the walls seemed to lean in on me as I walked. I emerged from the stairwell onto the third floor. By then even the stragglers had made their way to class, and the staff had retreated to their duties. The halls were as lonely as the stairs. My sneakers made almost no noise as I walked.


    If I had been wearing Olivia¡¯s heeled boots that clicked with every step, would that have made the solitude feel more or less intense?


    I wished Conrad was with me. Then I beat myself up for wishing that. It was an empty hall! This was not something I needed protection from, and there wasn¡¯t a wolfman alive that could protect me from the nonsense in my own head.


    The line of doors on my right were all dark. Hints of natural light snuck out from under the doors on my left, but everything was quiet. Not a single lecturing voice could be heard. I reached out to one of the doors, but my hand fell away before I could touch the handle.


    No matter how much I told myself I was being silly, I couldn¡¯t lift my arm again.


    I looked around. Halfway down the hall, there was a large patch of natural light.


    That¡¯s what I needed! I would get some good light on the map so I could figure out where I was. Starting my search at some random door was no good. I needed to be systematic.


    Yeah. That sounded convincing.


    The light came from a large set of windows that were set so far back from the rest of the hall, the wall they were put in must have stuck out from the building.


    ¡°Is this a tower?¡± I whispered.


    The hall around me whispered back.


    Welp! Screw that!


    I was supposed to have magical eyes, not magical ears. If I was hearing things, I was still too freaked out by my nightmare to be exploring some ancient manor house.


    But first I had to show that building who was boss.


    ¡°The grounds,¡± I said loudly. ¡°That¡¯s what I¡¯m going to explore first. No creepy echoes there.¡±


    I listened and heard nothing. With any luck, I¡¯d offended the place, and it¡¯d leave me alone.


    I went back to the stairs, down to the ground level, and walked through the hall until I found the first door that led outside.


    When I opened the door, a rush of air hit me. It was brisk and alive with the smell of grass and trees. I didn¡¯t have a plan for where I was going, but away felt like a good option. I went in a straight line from the door and kept my back to the building.


    Past the patchy vegetable garden was the manicured lawn. After a few minutes of walking, the lawn transitioned into a wild collection of bushes and trees, and my walk turned into more of a meander. My shoulders relaxed, and I put my hands in my pockets¡ªbut I kept my eyes open.


    Not that I expected to see something that could explain the boys¡¯ psychic powers hiding under a bush. But you never knew. Some kind of radioactive chuck of Planet ESPer might have fallen from the sky.


    I checked the sky.


    It was covered in gray clouds.


    I was probably going to be seeing a lot of those.


    As I lowered my eyes, I saw the wall from yesterday. A glance behind me showed only a part of the building. Most if it was hidden from view by the distance and all the plants, but I could still tell I had come out from the side of the school.


    I knew the wall ran along the front, but how far back did it go?


    I picked my way through the shrubs and branches until I was standing next to the wall. With the diffused sunlight, there weren¡¯t really any shadows, but the air beside the stones felt colder. I stared at the edge, far above me, where the top of the wall met the sky.


    ¡°It wasn¡¯t this tall at the front,¡± I mumbled.


    Was it? Had I misjudged the height from my place in the limo?


    When I put my hand on the wall, the chill made it ache. There was texture on the stones because of their age, but there wasn¡¯t anything for a person to grab onto. I couldn¡¯t even dig the tips of my fingers into the gaps between the stones. I put my hand back in my pocket.


    It didn¡¯t matter. It wasn¡¯t like I was trying to escape¡­


    I peered down the length of the wall toward the front of the school. By the time it turned the corner in the distance, what little I could see of it, before it got lost in the trees, looked no larger than a sideways pencil. In the other direction, it disappeared because of the curve in the grounds.


    I went that way, to see if the wall really did disappear.


    It didn¡¯t. No matter how far I walked, the wall grew to meet me and fell away behind me. Beside me, it was always the same unclimbable height. A seed of frustration cracked open and spilled out tiny roots that grew until they were simultaneously breaking up my vague thoughts and clutching them together.


    When I reached the back corner, I let out a tsss sound, turned, and picked up my pace.


    Twenty minutes later, my phone rang. It was Darius.


    I put the thing up to my ear and, without any hello, demanded, ¡°Why is this place built like a prison?¡±


    There was a short silence.


    ¡°Emerra, where are you?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m out on the grounds. I wanted to get some fresh air. Did you know this place has a wall around the entire thing? It¡¯s massive! The only way in or out is through the front gate! Why would they do that?¡±


    There was another pause.


    ¡°Given the circumstances¡ª¡± Darius said.


    ¡°What circumstances? It¡¯s a high school!¡±


    The count let out a quiet sigh. I stopped and leaned back on the hated wall.


    ¡°Sorry,¡± I muttered.


    ¡°How old does the wall look?¡± Darius asked.


    ¡°Pretty old.¡±


    ¡°As old as the main building?¡±


    ¡°Not that old, but older than some of the buildings.¡±


    ¡°Then it probably came with the manor when Wuller bought it, and they didn¡¯t think it¡¯d be worth the money required to have it torn down.¡±


    ¡°I guess that makes sense.¡± I moved my phone down to glance at the time, then put it back to my ear. ¡°Aren¡¯t you supposed to be asleep?¡±


    ¡°I am, but Mr. Wes Osborn wanted me to inform you that he¡¯s already checked with his teacher, and you¡¯d be welcome to join his history class during second lesson if you wanted to observe them.¡±


    I smiled. ¡°Isn¡¯t Wes supposed to be in class right now?¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t think it was my place to comment.¡±


    ¡°Thank you, Darius. I¡¯m sorry he woke you.¡±


    The vampire grunted. ¡°The message is delivered. You¡¯re on your own when it comes to finding the classroom.¡±


    ¡°Sleep well.¡±


    ¡°I hope so.¡± He hung up.


    I lowered my phone. I had some time before I had to head back to the school¡ªif I decided to head back to the school. I still needed to look around. There was a lot more to the grounds than the wall.


    I turned and stepped back to look at it. Then I took a few more steps backward to enjoy watching it shrink.


    ¡°Careful.¡±


    My heart skipped, but the voice was only unexpected, not unpleasant.


    I turned to see the man behind me. He was crouched over the ground, nearly hidden by the shrub beside him. His gray overalls were coated with dirt, his wide-brimmed hat was pushed back so he could see me, and his face was lined with wrinkles. Gardening tools were scattered around him. I had interrupted his project, so I couldn¡¯t tell if he was putting something in or pulling something out.


    He went on, ¡°This isn¡¯t the place to go over, and you¡¯ll back into a branch if you don¡¯t look where you¡¯re going.¡±


    ¡°Thanks,¡± I said.


    ¡°You¡¯re a woman?¡± He dusted off his gloves, stood up, and walked toward me. The lines around his eyes deepened as he squinted to get a better look. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. My eyes aren¡¯t what they used to be.¡±


    I waved to show no-hard-feelings. ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it.¡±


    ¡°Where are you from?¡±


    ¡°America.¡±


    ¡°Huh. Welcome to Setlan on Lee,¡± he grumbled. ¡°A fine institution. For however long it lasts.¡±


    He went back to his tools.


    I followed him. Maybe I missed Igor¡¯s grumping, or maybe I found him more curious than sinister, despite his grim outlook.


    ¡°You don¡¯t think it¡¯ll last?¡± I asked.


    ¡°The only thing that lasts in this world is me.¡± He lowered himself to the ground and picked up his spade. ¡°I¡¯ve been passed down four times¡ªlike the stonework, and the problems with the pipes¡ªbut even I¡¯m wearing out.¡±


    I grinned. ¡°Maybe the stonework will outlast you.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s right. So will the grounds. I don¡¯t know what state they¡¯ll be in, but they¡¯ll be here. The dirt, and the eternal manor.¡±


    ¡°You said this wasn¡¯t the place to go over?¡±


    He hacked at the soil around the root of the shrub. ¡°Huh?¡±


    ¡°Earlier, you said this wasn¡¯t the place to go over?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re a visitor.¡± He jerked his head to the left. ¡°You go out the front gate. It¡¯s safer that way.¡±


    ¡°Do any of the boys sneak out?¡±


    ¡°They¡¯re teenage boys, Missy. We may not last, but humans don¡¯t change much either. There are stretches along the front of the wall that are a good two feet shorter than here. There¡¯s still glass along the top, but the boys don¡¯t always know that.¡±


    My mind twisted around the word. ¡°Glass?¡±


    ¡°They find the big tree too. They all do. I laid a folded blanket across the top of the wall there. Wuller might not like that, but it¡¯s my yard they drop into, and I don¡¯t much like bandaging up a lot of cuts. One or two twisted ankles¡±¡ªhe raised a finger¡ª¡°that I can do.¡±


    ¡°How long has this wall been here?¡±


    ¡°Oh, forever. The original drawings don¡¯t have it, but it was here before my time.¡±


    Good. Darius was right; Wuller didn¡¯t build the wall. That felt¡­important. Comforting.


    ¡°How do the boys get back inside?¡± I asked.


    ¡°The ones that do borrow my ladder. I leave it out¡ªsideways, mind you¡ªand they put it up. That¡¯s how I know they made it back. I go out in the morning, and it¡¯s up against the wall.¡± He shifted his shoulders in a shrug. ¡°It¡¯s not up to the school how I store my ladder.¡±


    A line of numbness crept along my spine. ¡°What do you mean¡ªthe ones that do?¡±


    The old man stopped hacking. He grabbed onto the trunk of the shrub and pushed. There was a series of pops and cracks as it separated from the roots that wouldn¡¯t let go.


    ¡°Three so far,¡± he said. ¡°Three I know of¡ªtwo I heard, one I had to help. They never came back.¡±


    ¡°What happened to them?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t know. People tend to stay out of your business if you stay out of theirs. I don¡¯t want them asking about the ladder, so I don¡¯t ask the school about the boys, and I don¡¯t ask the boys why they¡¯re running.¡±

 Chapter 12 - The Demonstration

    When I wandered into the old gym that afternoon, Darius and Conrad were already there. There was a table set up close to the bleachers. Darius¡¯s laptop and notes were taking up over half the table. He was off to the side, helping a man set up the last video camera. The four machines flanked the table like cyclopic watchmen.


    I made a mental note not to trip on their cords. They might turn to glower at me.


    Conrad was standing close to the door, but a few feet further into the room, watching Darius and the unknown man work.


    I walked up to the wolfman¡¯s side.


    ¡°Hey,¡± I said.


    Conrad didn¡¯t turn. He didn¡¯t need to. No doubt, he had smelled me coming when I was out in the hall. ¡°Hey.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s with all the cameras?¡± I asked. ¡°Didn¡¯t the other Torr teams already prove the abilities were real?¡±


    ¡°The school records all their sessions. It adds to the body of evidence, and they can use it to track the boys¡¯ abilities.¡±


    I did my best to hide my grimace. Maybe the boys didn¡¯t mind being recorded. Wes sure seemed to like showing off.


    ¡°Is that the gym teacher?¡± I nodded to the man helping set up the cameras.


    I knew that gym teachers were territorial. It wouldn¡¯t surprise me if he was still protective of this gym, even if he did have a brand-new sports complex next to the dorms.


    ¡°That¡¯s Aaron Reisig,¡± Conrad said.


    ¡°That¡¯s Reisig? The psychic consultant?¡±


    Conrad tilted his head so he could look down at me. ¡°Yeah?¡±


    ¡°Huh.¡±


    When Darius had mentioned a psychic consultant, I had imagined a skinny, dark-haired woman in a long, sweepy skirt, loose shirt, and shawl, but the name Aaron didn¡¯t fit too well with that stereotype. My brain had hastily sketched in a few alterations. Unfortunately, the best it could present me with was the idea of a skinny, dark-haired guy who wore baggy khakis with pleats in the front¡ªwhich, I guess, is the bifurcated equivalent to a sweepy skirt. I dunno.


    The Aaron Reisig in front of me was not skinny. It looked like he worked out regularly. He had short, curly, blond hair and a full beard. He wore a checkered dress shirt, nice slacks, and black, thick-rimmed glasses, but he also had gauged ear plugs, and his cuffed-up sleeves revealed half-sleeve tattoos on both forearms. I spotted a few religious symbols in them. He looked like a guy who could give you an impromptu lecture on the various Buddhist schools after knocking out the idiot who tried to pick a fight with him in a dark alley.


    Since Conrad was still eyeing me, I tried to come up with some excuse for my surprise.


    ¡°He¡¯s, uh, a lot¡­taller¡­than I expected.¡±


    The edge of Conrad¡¯s lips lifted.


    I huffed. ¡°Sure. Everyone seems short to you.¡±


    The wolfman went back to watching Darius and Reisig. ¡°You disappeared this morning.¡±


    ¡°Darius asked me to look around the school.¡±


    ¡°I know. He asked me to do that too.¡± Conrad paused. ¡°Where did you go?¡±


    ¡°The grounds. Mostly.¡±


    That was technically accurate and sounded much better than ¡°I wasted over a half-hour getting mad at a wall for existing.¡±


    ¡°Did you find anything?¡± Conrad asked.


    ¡°Nothing that could explain the psychic powers. What about you? Where did you go?¡±


    ¡°I went over the third floor of the main building.¡±


    Dang it! If I¡¯d known Conrad was going to be up there, I could have gone with him! It¡¯s hard to be scared of shadows and whispers when your companion can take down a bear, and he was enough of a professional, he could tolerate me for a few hours if it was to get a job done.


    That last thought stabbed my stomach with a bit of sadness.


    ¡°Did you find anything?¡± I asked.


    Conrad shook his head. ¡°It¡¯s hard when I don¡¯t know what I¡¯m searching for.¡±


    ¡°I hear ya.¡± I thought for a second, then said, ¡°Conrad, do you ever get creeped out? Like, do you ever get really nervous for no reason?¡±


    ¡°Hackles. It¡¯s when the fur on the back of your neck stands on end and you don¡¯t know why.¡±


    I smiled. ¡°Humans don¡¯t have hackles.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s what you say.¡± He shrugged. ¡°Call it what you want. It happens to everyone. But it¡¯s not for no reason. It¡¯s when your nose gets ahead of your brain.¡±


    ¡°Huh?¡±


    ¡°You sense something. You know it¡¯s there. It trips your nerves, but your brain doesn¡¯t know what it is yet. Your hackles rise to warn you there might be danger.¡±


    ¡°Okay. Did you get that while you were going over the third floor?¡±


    He looked at me again¡ªwith both eyes this time. ¡°No. Why?¡±


    Before I could answer, the door behind us opened. Wuller came in, followed by five boys and Miller, who was pushing a cart loaded with a series of flat, round weights.


    One of the five boys was Wes. He grinned when he saw me and waved like the dork he was. I grinned and waved back¡ªa fellow dork.


    Beside me, I felt Conrad move away. He walked over to the table they had set up for us. When I turned back to the boys, I noticed that most of them, including Wes, were staring at Conrad.


    Miller whistled for the boys¡¯ attention and directed them over to the bleachers.


    I didn¡¯t bother going over to the table. I wanted to get a closer look at the boys¡¯ powers, and since I was acting as the eyes of death, I didn¡¯t think anyone would stop me.


    Davis was our first performer. He was a telekinetic. They put a weight at the end of a line of tape on the floor. The line was broken into red and white blocks to mark distance. The goal, I understood, was to get the weight from that end of the tape, to the taped square at the other end, but Davis seemed to be having trouble, and all of Reisig¡¯s ¡°in your own time¡± only seemed to make him more nervous.


    ¡°Could¡­could you stand back,¡± he whispered.


    Since he whispered, I was the only one he could have been talking to.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± I whispered back. ¡°I¡¯m trying to see what you¡¯re doing.¡±


    ¡°You mean failing?¡±


    I shrugged. ¡°From what I hear, the fact you could even do it once on command means you¡¯re already ahead of the pack. Isn¡¯t that good enough? Do you really have to be perfect?¡±


    Davis got a funny look on his face, then, scowling, he looked down at the weight. It flew across the room and slammed into the far wall, cracking it.


    I stared at the kid. His hands were on his knees. He was pale, sweating, trembling, and staring back at me with wide eyes.


    ¡°Dude!¡± I cried.


    Davis must not have been expecting such an articulate response. An uneasy smile quaked its way onto his face. We both laughed.


    When I was done laughing, I tried to tack on an extra thought or two. ¡°Dude,¡± I said, ¡°that was fantastic!¡±


    He finished chuckling and stood up straight. ¡°Yeah, but I think I missed the target.¡±


    ¡°You threw a ten-pound weight with your mind! We can move the freaking target!¡±


    He shaded his eyes, squinted toward the crack in the wall, and pointed with his other hand. ¡°Right about there, if you please.¡±


    I turned to the table. ¡°Anybody got some red paint?¡±


    After that, my role as a cheerleader was pretty firmly established.


    The next telekinetic was Evans, the boy who¡¯d brought up my luggage. He had better control, but not as much power. I urged his weight to scoot along as if it were the tortoise I had bet my last dollar on, and the hare was coming up fast. Payson was an ergokinetic¡ªa boy who could manipulate electric fields. He shook my hand at the end of his demonstration and laughed when I jumped after receiving what felt like the world¡¯s worst static shock.


    The first pyro, a boy named Jones, took off his blazer and shirt before beginning. On his second try, he was able to call up some flames. They rolled along his bare arms. Reisig put him through his paces: higher, lower, hotter, cooler. When Jones was done, he wormed his arms around in a flashy hip-hop dance move as I gave him an enthusiastic standing ovation.


    Wes called from the bleachers, ¡°Now that¡¯s my peasant!¡±


    That earned him a look from Wuller, Reisig, and Miller.


    When Jones had taken his seat, Wes came down and stood on the mats.


    Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.


    Reisig said, ¡°Do you need to remove your jacket and shirt, Osborn?¡±


    ¡°No, sir.¡± He smiled. ¡°I¡¯m feeling optimistic today.¡±


    The psychic consultant watched him for a moment. ¡°Uh-huh.¡± He leaned forward, pulled over the last file, and opened it. It was thicker than the others. He said, ¡°For the sake of your modesty, I hope your focus is as impressive as your optimism.¡±


    Wes¡¯s cheeks filled with a pink haze, and he let out a quiet cough.


    ¡°Middle of the mats, please,¡± Reisig said.


    Wes took two large steps back. Then he looked at me and made a weird face, like he was trying to get me to do something I should have already done. I countered with a confused look. He motioned for me to back off.


    Wow. Cocky much?


    With a wry smile, I stepped back.


    ¡°Full body, Osborn,¡± Reisig said. ¡°Whenever you¡¯re ready.¡±


    Wes burst into flame. It engulfed every inch of him, rippling and whipping off his head and shoulders by more than a foot. Wes Osborn, the psychic inferno.


    Reisig droned, ¡°Higher.¡±


    I stepped back further this time.


    The fire roared, reaching four feet above his head¡ªfive.


    I couldn¡¯t cheer. I couldn¡¯t even move my tongue. The awe weighed down my whole body.


    Reisig led Wes through a routine that was familiar to both of them. There were no dance moves in this routine, no floating flames, nothing but pure control. But that didn¡¯t make it any less impressive than last night¡¯s impromptu performance.


    When Reisig called for Wes to stop, the flames receded, then vanished. Wes stood there for a second, smoking and beating on various parts of his blazer and slacks.


    ¡°Osborn?¡± Reisig said.


    ¡°Just a bit singed, sir. That¡¯s what I get for bragging.¡±


    ¡°Try to remember that for next time, Master Osborn,¡± Wuller called. He sounded like a proud father.


    ¡°Yes, sir.¡± Wes turned to me, smiling. This was no grin of mischief or humor; this was pure confidence. ¡°Well?¡±


    My mouth moved up and down. The delayed words showed up sometime after that. ¡°I¡¯m speechless.¡±


    He raised his hand. I dived in for a high five. When our hands met, I expected his to be hot. Nope. It was nothing but a normal hand¡­that had been on fire less than a minute ago.


    Miller herded him out with the other boys while I walked over to the table to pick up my phone (Payson had warned me I wouldn¡¯t want to have it too close while he was showing off).


    As I approached, Wuller said to me, ¡°I feel almost guilty sending them back to class. You seemed to be enjoying yourself, Miss Cole.¡±


    ¡°Well, their powers are amazing!¡±


    ¡°But you must have seen something like it before.¡±


    ¡°Wes Osborn showed me his powers last night. That¡¯s it. You do remember that psychic powers are rare, right?¡±


    The headmaster smiled. ¡°I¡¯ve been told that, certainly.¡±


    Darius was already deep in conversation with Aaron Reisig. The consultant¡¯s voice was casual and assured.


    ¡°Even among older, more talented psychics, their powers aren¡¯t always dependable. These boys are new to their powers. They¡¯re clumsy. They haven¡¯t had time to understand and develop their abilities. And not all abilities can be controlled. The majority of clairvoyants can never activate their ability at will. Psychics tend to have more control over the less complex abilities¡ª¡±


    Darius broke in: ¡°You¡¯re talking about the relative theory of psychic complexity?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± Reisig said. ¡°Pyrokinesis is the simplest of all psychic abilities, so it makes sense that it would be the easiest to control. Next comes ergokinesis, then telekinesis.¡± He motioned to the now empty mats. ¡°Those are the boys you saw today. But even their control is imperfect.¡±


    ¡°Mr. Osborn seemed to do fairly well.¡±


    ¡°Osborn was one of the first psychics we discovered, and he¡¯s still one of the most powerful.¡±


    ¡°Is it true that most of the boys that have manifested a power have only manifested it once?¡±


    Darius¡¯s voice was deceptively soft, but there was a subtle emphasis that made his words feel like glass beads being dropped into sand.


    Reisig frowned.


    Wuller, on the other hand, smiled his big, bold smile. He leaned toward the vampire. ¡°That is, only once¡­so far, Mr. Vasil. We¡¯re still working with them. We hope, given time and practice, they might find it easier to use their powers.¡±


    The vampire shifted his notes to get to a specific piece of paper. ¡°One hundred and three psychics¡­but only twenty-five of them have demonstrated their ability more than once.¡± He raised his eyes to the psychic consultant. ¡°How long have you been working with them?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve been focusing on increasing their control and expanding their basic knowledge of psychic abilities,¡± Reisig said.


    ¡°By choice?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry?¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t seem to be able to increase the number of times they can use their ability. Are you choosing to focus on control, or is it the only thing you can influence?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m choosing to focus on control. It¡¯s important for the safety of the students.¡±


    Darius hummed noncommittally. ¡°How do you find the psychics?¡±


    ¡°By a manifestation of their power,¡± Wuller said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.


    I kind of agreed with him. How did Darius expect them to find the psychics?


    Reisig elaborated, ¡°The pyros, of course, are the easiest to find and verify. The ergokinetics took more time to figure out, but once we found one, we were able to pick out a few signs of the ability. When we told the boys to look for them, the other ergokinetics knew to come forward.¡±


    ¡°What kind of signs?¡± Darius asked.


    ¡°Like if their alarm clocks stopped working.¡±


    ¡°Does that mean that the ergo-ability also first manifests in their sleep?¡±


    Reisig shook his head. ¡°It¡¯s not that easy to say. Whenever an ergos¡¯ power is active, it interferes with the electricity flowing around them, but what other small electronic device is around them for eight hours at a time?¡±


    Geez. When did our train pull in to State the Obvious Central?


    ¡°Um,¡± I said, ¡°their phones?¡±


    Wuller let out a huh! of laughter. ¡°Not at this school!¡±


    Darius said, ¡°How did you find the first ergokinetic?¡± He pulled his notepad toward him and glanced down. ¡°Mr. Truhurst?¡±


    ¡°Truhurst got upset and blew out several lights,¡± Reisig said.


    ¡°Is that normal?¡± I asked.


    The psychic consultant turned to me with a wry smile. ¡°Which part? The part about a young man getting upset, or the part about him blowing out a series of lights?¡±


    ¡°I read that most psychic abilities appear when the psychic is a teenager. Is it because there¡¯s more emotional upheaval?¡±


    Reisig watched me for a second. The way his eyes moved over my face made me feel like he was trying to place me.


    Good luck, buster, I thought.


    He said, ¡°That might be true for certain talents, but not all of them. People who tend toward claircognitive abilities often show signs of their sensitive natures as children.¡±


    Claircognitive. That¡¯s when you know something you shouldn¡¯t know, usually because the knowledge is divorced from the psychic by either space or time. It covered things like clairauditory and clairvoyant abilities.


    I really needed to send Iset a thank you text.


    ¡°But the provable abilities¡ª¡± Darius started.


    ¡°We don¡¯t like that term here,¡± Reisig said.


    Darius¡¯s eyebrows lowered and his eyes narrowed before he could control his reaction. By timing the silence that followed, I could tell exactly how irritated he was by Reisig¡¯s blunt interruption.


    And, boy, was he irritated.


    But when Darius spoke, his voice was calm.


    ¡°You mean the term ¡®provable?¡¯¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re talking about a subjective experience that can¡¯t be seen, measured, or recorded. To call it into question because it doesn¡¯t match your life¡¯s sensory experience is no different than telling someone they aren¡¯t in pain because ¡®it seems unlikely.¡¯ Do you know how many doctors do that? Do you know how many people suffer, needlessly, because they do?¡±


    ¡°Then what term do you use?¡±


    ¡°We don¡¯t. Psychics are psychics. We don¡¯t differentiate between the boys with powers that we can record and the boys whose powers are imperceptible.¡±


    ¡°You may find that a useful sentiment, Mr. Reisig, but I¡¯m an investigator. I need to differentiate between them. Would you prefer it if we use the terms empirical and subjective?¡±


    ¡°If you must. If you find that sentiment useful.¡±


    Out of the corner of my eyes, I saw Conrad¡¯s ears start to flatten. Yeesh. Wasn¡¯t someone supposed to offer us tea about now?


    I drew their attention by stepping closer to the table. ¡°Do most of the empirical talents show up when they¡¯re teenagers?¡±


    Reisig leaned back in his chair. ¡°Most of them, but they occasionally show up early or late, usually in conjunction with stress or traumatic events.¡±


    Wuller did his bit to diffuse the situation by saying, in his bluff voice, ¡°That¡¯s why I chose to put together a school. These are the prime years, when the students are full of energy. They¡¯re starting to ask questions and challenge the world around them. They¡¯re more open-minded and willing to explore what¡¯s possible. At any rate, I hope you¡¯re satisfied the abilities are real?¡±


    ¡°That wasn¡¯t seriously in question,¡± Darius said. ¡°The three other teams all confirmed they were real, but I hope you understand why we wanted to check for ourselves.¡±


    What a well-constructed phrase. It didn¡¯t say why we wanted to check¡ªwhich was to give me and Conrad a chance to look and sniff around¡ªinstead it left the polite suggestion that Wuller already knew, thus allowing the headmaster to fill in the blanks with whatever excuse would satisfy him.


    Wuller wasted no time picking up a metaphorical crayon and coloring in those awkward white spaces.


    ¡°Of course,¡± he said. ¡°Checking the authenticity of the powers should always be the first step. Phony psychics are as much of a concern to us as they are to you. More so!¡ªas it¡¯s our credibility they¡¯re compromising.¡±


    Darius put his hand over his notes. The tips of his fingers pressed down on the papers. He watched his fingertips as he said, ¡°I understand that approximately half of your psychics are noted as having subjective powers.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s correct.¡±


    ¡°How did you check their authenticity?¡±


    ¡°You can¡¯t¡ª¡± Reisig started.


    ¡°Reisig,¡± Wuller said.


    The consultant fell silent.


    Wuller said to Darius, ¡°I understand your concerns¡ªI do. But consider our situation. We¡¯re trying to cultivate a supportive environment where psychics are respected for their abilities. If we challenged our boys whenever they claimed to have subjective abilities, that would only cow them into hiding their talents.¡±


    ¡°You simply take their word for it?¡± Darius asked.


    ¡°Mr. Vasil, there are no advantages to claiming you have a power. In fact, our psychics lose part of their free time. They have an extra class where they work with Mr. Reisig to develop their abilities. But if it¡¯s proof you want, I might have some for you. It isn¡¯t conclusive, but it¡¯s compelling.¡±


    ¡°Please, go on.¡±


    ¡°We keep all of the automatic writing and automatic drawings that our students produce. Of course, we can¡¯t draw any conclusions about the sketches or the writings in English, but one of our students wrote in fluent German when he had no previous exposure to the language.¡±


    Darius rubbed his jaw. ¡°You know that he didn¡¯t know German?¡±


    ¡°For certain? No. But we looked into his background, his family life, and the history of his schooling¡ªno German.¡±


    ¡°That would be compelling. May I look at these writings?¡±


    Wuller stood up. ¡°Certainly! We¡¯re eager to prove ourselves, Mr. Vasil. It¡¯s the first step to being taken seriously.¡±


    Darius and Wuller left together. Conrad left a few seconds later. I almost called out to him, but a flash of fear and shame hauled my voice back into my chest. There was plenty of room for it, since my whole chest cavity felt empty.


    Stupid witch.


    Yeah. ¡®Cause it¡¯s Olivia¡¯s fault for pointing out the problem.


    Stupid brain.


    To try to make up for its brutal realism, my brain scraped up a useful observation: if I didn¡¯t want to cause Conrad any extra trouble, I could check out the third floor on my own, then join him on the other floors.


    Reisig stood up, went over to the first of the cameras, and started taking down the equipment.


    I wandered over.


    ¡°Would you like some help?¡± I asked.


    His eyes moved to me for a second, then returned to the equipment. ¡°No, but thank you. You¡¯re Miss Cole, is that right?¡±


    ¡°Yeah.¡±


    ¡°And who was that guy? Is he a paid skeptic?¡±


    ¡°You mean Darius?¡± I thought about it. ¡°That¡¯s¡­not actually a terrible description. We were sent here to investigate the situation. If he didn¡¯t challenge what was being presented, it wouldn¡¯t be much of an investigation.¡±


    Reisig¡¯s only answer was a derisive grunt. He hefted the camera from its stand and carefully walked it over to the table.


    After he put it down, he said, ¡°The man watched five boys use their powers right in front of him. We have slow-motion cameras, infrared cameras, standard cameras, a multimeter¡ªhe knows that psychic powers are real, but because he can¡¯t see the other powers, he assumes the boys must be lying?¡±


    I looked down at the floor and scuffed my sneaker over the warped wood slats.


    During Reisig¡¯s conversation with Darius, I had felt like someone was slowly twisting me up the same way they¡¯d wring out a dishrag.


    I could see things that other people couldn¡¯t. Why did Darius believe me? Was it only because of what Jacky had told him? How many other people would think I was lying?


    ¡°Are you a psychic, Mr. Reisig?¡± I asked.


    Reisig bent over the camera. ¡°That''s why Wuller hired me. There are lots of people who know about psychics, but I know about them on a personal level.¡±


    ¡°What kind of powers do you have?¡±


    He straightened up. ¡°You don¡¯t know?¡±


    I shook my head.


    ¡°Are you going to call me a liar?¡±


    The challenge in his voice was clear. Maybe that¡¯s what he wanted¡ªa challenge. He certainly seemed combative.


    ¡°Would you like me to?¡± I asked.


    He looked at me for a second, then he lowered his head and chuckled. ¡°No, I suppose not.¡± He walked over to the next camera. ¡°It¡¯s involuntary astral projection. I¡¯ve been able to do it a few times on purpose, but it isn¡¯t reliable.¡±


    Astral projection. When the psychic¡¯s soul becomes detached from their body.


    ¡°That¡¯s¡­¡± I faltered, then tried again. ¡°That¡¯s one of the subjective ones, isn¡¯t it?¡±


    ¡°Yes. Which is why my sympathy is more with the boys than with Mr. Vasil.¡±

 Chapter 13 - In the Greenhouse

    At dinner, Wes broke it to me that Mr. Turner wouldn¡¯t let them skip two prep periods in a row. I hadn¡¯t asked him to check, but I frowned and shook my head in a manner almost as dramatic as his grim announcement.


    ¡°But!¡± He held up a finger to interrupt my mourning. ¡°We do have free time from nine to ten.¡±


    ¡°Didn¡¯t you get in trouble for staying out late yesterday?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Turner didn¡¯t catch us,¡± Eric said.


    ¡°So you¡¯re going to risk it again today?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s the way he works,¡± Dustin said with a sigh.


    The plan was for me to be outside their dorm hall at nine, then we could go over and pick up Scott Shipp from his hall.


    ¡°Okay,¡± I said, ¡°but if I¡¯m not there at nine, it¡¯s because I had work to do. You guys go on without me.¡±


    ¡°You can¡¯t ditch it?¡± Wes asked.


    Eric Reed said, ¡°Work isn¡¯t like school, Wes.¡±


    Scott laughed. ¡°Oh, man. Once you leave here, you¡¯re going to do great. I can tell.¡±


    After dinner, I told Darius the boys were hoping to hang out with me and asked if there was anything he wanted me to do. He said that hanging out with the boys was what he wanted me to do.


    ¡°Keep talking to them,¡± he said, ¡°and make sure you¡¯re listening for any information they drop.¡±


    A discontent growl escaped my throat.


    The vampire wasn¡¯t going to miss that.


    ¡°Yes, Emerra?¡± Darius said.


    ¡°It¡¯s just¡­isn¡¯t Wuller telling you everything you need to know? He¡¯s enthusiastic enough.¡±


    Darius stopped typing and turned in his chair to look at me. ¡°What¡¯s really bothering you, Emerra?¡±


    ¡°Huh?¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t believe that. You know, as well as I do, that Wuller only knows half of what goes on at this school¡ª¡±


    I thought that estimate was a bit high, actually, but I didn¡¯t want to admit it.


    ¡°¡ªso something else must be bothering you. What is it?¡±


    ¡°I feel like a spy,¡± I said. ¡°Those kids are talking to me like a friend, and there I am, taking a bunch of sneaky notes and reporting back to you!¡±


    The vampire smiled one of his closed-lip smiles and turned back to his laptop. ¡°A spy¡¯s position and intentions must remain unknown to their mark. The boys know exactly who you are. If they tell you anything, it¡¯s because they don¡¯t care if you know.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re saying I¡¯m not a spy because they know I¡¯m from the Torr?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m saying, if you are a spy, you¡¯re a lousy one.¡±


    As the boys and I roamed the halls, trying to figure out what to do with the measly hour allowed us, they told ghost stories. These weren¡¯t good ghost stories¡ªafter all, we only had an hour. They were only the bare outlines of the dreadful tales. About the time you strip the stories of all their details, they wind up sounding a lot more ridiculous than dreadful. Even the spooky atmosphere of the school could only do so much when it had to contend with Scott skipping down the hall, his squeaky laughter bouncing off the dark, looming walls.


    ¡°Think about it!¡± Wes cried. ¡°If you came back from the dead, would you spend all your time hanging around a bathroom?¡±


    ¡°You have me there,¡± I said.


    ¡°But what if¡ªwhat if¡­¡± Scott turned, one-eighty, so he could point at Wes. ¡°What if the food in purgatory is really bad?¡± He raised an eyebrow. ¡°I¡¯ve had nights like that. It¡¯s enough to make you wish you were dead again.¡±


    ¡°Ghosts can¡¯t eat,¡± Wes jeered.


    ¡°Oh, you¡¯re talking about ghosts,¡± I said. ¡°Not just people who came back from the dead?¡±


    Wes¡¯s brow furrowed. ¡°Who else comes back from the dead?¡±


    I grinned with private delight and shrugged.


    Eric¡¯s voice was heavy with incredulity. ¡°You can¡¯t believe in Bloody Mary, but the other ghosts¡ªsure, why not?¡±


    ¡°Let¡¯s say, I¡¯m open-minded about them,¡± Wes said.


    Eric rolled his eyes.


    Scott piped up, ¡°What does the smart one have to say?¡±


    We all looked at Dustin.


    Dustin¡¯s verdict was ¡°I haven¡¯t met one yet.¡±


    Scott shook a finger at him. ¡°That¡¯s a good line. Have to remember that.¡±


    ¡°What about you, Emerra?¡± Wes asked.


    It didn¡¯t seem fair for me to answer. Living with death gave me some serious insider knowledge. But I could fudge.


    ¡°You know, it wouldn¡¯t surprise me at all if there were ghosts.¡± I looked around the gloomy hall, and my eyes strayed to the shadows of the high ceiling. ¡°And it wouldn¡¯t surprise me if we found a few here.¡±


    Scott laughed.


    ¡°What?¡± I said.


    ¡°It¡¯s not telekinesis.¡± He waggled his eyebrows. ¡°It¡¯s ghosts.¡±


    ¡°What about the pyrokinesis?¡± Eric said.


    ¡°Really angry ghosts.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not anger.¡± Wes¡¯s voice was quiet. ¡°It smolders. It¡¯s like a low ache that you carry around with you. Sometimes it flares.¡±


    For a moment, there was only the sound of our footfalls.


    ¡°Does it hurt you?¡± I asked.


    ¡°That¡¯s not what I meant.¡± Wes closed an eye, and his cheek lifted to make the oddest thoughtful expression I¡¯d ever seen. ¡°But I use it, right? I¡¯m around it a lot. Everybody says it¡¯s anger, but that¡¯s not it. That¡¯s the wrong kind of energy. It¡¯s more like¡­pain.¡±


    In the silence that followed, Wes looked around and saw four somber faces looking back at him.


    In a much louder and more playful tone, he said, ¡°What do you think, Eric? Would you rather have it be psychics or poltergeists?¡±


    You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.


    Eric scowled. ¡°I¡¯ll take the psychics.¡±


    The hall in front of us opened onto the balcony overlooking the great hall. Scott ran ahead, leaned over the stone banister, and whooped loud enough it echoed three times.


    ¡°Must you?¡± Dustin said, covering the ear closest to Scott.


    Wes clapped his hand on Dustin¡¯s shoulder. ¡°A man has to stake out his territory.¡±


    We all moseyed over to join Scott at the railing. When I got there, I spotted a familiar set of furry ears down on the floor below. I almost called out to Conrad, but then I thought better of it.


    Maybe he sensed my intentions. He turned and looked up at us.


    I offered him a hesitant wave.


    The wolfman raised his hand, then turned and walked into a dark hall. I kept my eyes on the spot where he¡¯d disappeared.


    Five days. You¡¯d think I¡¯d be over it. But Wes was right¡ªsome aches smolder. I took a deep breath and drew myself up.


    When I turned, the boys were watching me.


    ¡°What?¡± I said.


    Eric jerked his head toward where the wolfman had been. ¡°Is he a problem for you?¡±


    At first I was too stunned to respond. Then I laughed. ¡°No! Geez¡ªno. Conrad is¡­he¡¯s really great.¡± My stomach sank.


    Scott leaned over and whispered to Wes, loud enough we could all hear him, ¡°She said cheese.¡±


    ¡°She said ¡®geez,¡¯¡± Wes corrected him.


    ¡°What kind of geez?¡± Scott grinned. ¡°Do you think she has Red Leicester?¡±


    ¡°Not now,¡± Dustin said.


    ¡°Is the wolfman strong?¡± Eric asked.


    ¡°Oh, yeah.¡± I put my hands in my pockets and kept walking. ¡°Scary strong.¡±


    The boys fell in step beside me.


    ¡°Does he scare you?¡± Eric asked.


    ¡°He used to,¡± I said. ¡°Then I got to know him.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s he doing?¡± Wes asked.


    ¡°Probably snooping around the building.¡±


    We reached the end of the hall. We could turn and keep walking along the balcony, or we could go down the stairs.


    ¡°Which way, guys?¡± I motioned to our options.


    They looked at each other, waiting for someone¡ªanyone¡ªto have an opinion. Since it looked like no one wanted that honor, Wes decided to volunteer someone for it.


    ¡°Dustin!¡±


    ¡°Why me?¡± Dustin asked.


    ¡°Because you didn¡¯t like where we went last night. This time you get to pick.¡±


    Dustin must have seen the justice in that argument. He nodded toward the stairs. ¡°Let¡¯s go to the greenhouse.¡±


    ¡°Can we?¡± My voice rose with excitement.


    I had seen the greenhouse while I was exploring the grounds. It looked like the glass walls were the only thing keeping the potted jungle from taking over the world.


    Wes and Dustin both smiled.


    ¡°Yes,¡± Wes said, ¡°I do believe we have a winner.¡±


    The greenhouse was on the bottom floor at the end of the main wing. The door looked like any other door, but the boys assured me that behind that unassuming slab of wood was the jungle-esque utopia I had seen.


    ¡°Grant¡¯s the head of the gardening club,¡± Scott said. ¡°We¡¯re still trying to figure out if what he does counts as chlorokinesis.¡±


    I couldn¡¯t tell if he was joking.


    Wes grabbed the door handle.


    ¡°Is it locked?¡± I asked.


    ¡°It¡¯s not ten yet,¡± he said. ¡°Besides it¡¯s never locked if you know the trick.¡±


    He put his foot against the bottom of the door, braced his shoulder against it, and shoved. A second later, he motioned for Eric to come help. Under their combined weight, the door slowly, grudgingly, gave way.


    Wes held the door open and ushered the rest of us through. I stopped beside him.


    ¡°That¡¯s the trick?¡± I said. ¡°Push really hard?¡±


    ¡°The trick,¡± Wes whispered, ¡°is that this door is a pain in the arse to open and close, and Grant can never shut it tight enough to use the lock.¡±


    Walking into the greenhouse was like stepping through a magic portal. I left behind the heavy stone and dark wood of the school. Here the walls seemed to be made of light and air. I didn¡¯t know if the glass in the roof was real enough to keep out the rain. Soft, yellow light from the outdoor lamps attached to the side of the school filtered through the branches. The smell of the plants and the soil hung in the air like perfume. I held my arms wide and inhaled.


    ¡°This is beautiful,¡± I announced.


    ¡°You should come back in the daytime,¡± Scott said.


    He careened down one of the small aisles open on either side of the main table, but his reckless charge stopped abruptly at the end of the table. His arms dropped to his sides, his energy, gone, and he eyed something hidden to the rest of us by the large potted plants.


    We glanced at each other, then came forward, quiet and cautious.


    There were three boys, tucked behind the table, at the back of the greenhouse. If the sudden death of joy hadn¡¯t been enough of a clue, I could have guessed from the way Scott was standing, all tense and poised to run, that they weren¡¯t friends.


    Beside me, Eric growled, ¡°Ivers.¡±


    Ivers? Why did I know that name?


    The kid on the far right smirked.


    Definitely not a friend, I thought.


    The way Ivers held himself reminded me of a boy I knew as a child. I had hated and feared him, and after months of keeping a wary eye on him, I¡¯d had a flash of brutal insight: the arrogance that the boy had enjoyed came from his belief that rules didn¡¯t apply to him, and the unusual ease of his manner was because he didn¡¯t care what anyone thought. It was a rare combination of traits, usually found in the kind of people I preferred to be warned about.


    The boy from my childhood had picked on cats and collected cronies¡ªthe human version of crows. They hopped around the scene, making noises and watching the suffering of others from their untouchable branches.


    Yup. There he was. The boy on the left. With his head hung low between his shoulders and a flat smile¡ªa crony.


    Evans, the telekinetic, was between them. He was hunched up, like something being pecked at.


    ¡°What are you doing here?¡± Eric demanded.


    Ivers dropped a heavy arm across Evans¡¯ shoulders. Evans winced. ¡°Nothing. I¡¯m only asking my friend here for a favor.¡±


    I closed my eyes. Please, don¡¯t anyone be stupid enough to ask what the favor is.


    Eric sneered. ¡°A favor, huh? Evans, are you okay?¡±


    Evans eyes darted between the boys on either side of him. ¡°Yeah,¡± he said. There was a slight tremor in his brazen reply¡ªhardly noticeable, if you weren¡¯t listening for it. ¡°Why wouldn¡¯t I be?¡±


    ¡°Besides, what are you doing here?¡± the crony cawed.


    Okay. He didn¡¯t caw. But it sounded a bit like that: a raspy shot, spat out in a hurry.


    I braced myself in case the boys said something like ¡°we¡¯re showing Emerra around.¡±


    Shame on me for underestimating my friends.


    Wes and Eric stepped forward, hiding me from sight.


    ¡°It isn¡¯t ten yet,¡± Wes said, ¡°and we¡¯re still in the school. We have as much right to be here as you do.¡±


    ¡°Is there a problem?¡± Eric added.


    Ivers shrugged. ¡°There doesn¡¯t have to be.¡± He pushed away from the table he was leaning on and came toward us. ¡°I was thinking of leaving anyway. It¡¯s getting close to lights out, Reed, shouldn¡¯t you be hurrying back to your house?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry about me, Ivers,¡± Eric said. ¡°I can look after myself.¡±


    Ivers¡¯ eyes shifted to me then moved back to Eric. ¡°But a last-chance boy¡ª¡±


    I couldn¡¯t see Eric¡¯s face, but his voice was loud and angry. ¡°I appreciate the warning.¡±


    Scott said, ¡°Besides, aren¡¯t you a last-chance boy?¡± He motioned with both hands, shooing Ivers away. ¡°Scuttle, scuttle.¡±


    Ivers smiled, all arrogance and ease. ¡°I¡¯m not worried, little shit.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s Shipp, Ivers. Shipp.¡± Scott shook his head. ¡°I swear, you can¡¯t teach a gorilla anything.¡±


    Ivers feigned lunging at Scott and laughed when the smaller boy shifted away from him. ¡°Sure, you¡¯ll be brave when Osborn¡¯s here, but I doubt you¡¯d be such a smart-ass if you were alone.¡±


    ¡°Fool on you! I¡¯m always a smart-ass.¡±


    Dustin said through grit teeth, ¡°Scott!¡±


    Scott shut his mouth. Ivers¡¯ gaze lingered on Eric and Wes as he passed by. Scott, Dustin, and I didn¡¯t even rate a glance. The crony slipped through the path Ivers had cleared between us.


    Evans waited until they were completely out of the room before trying to follow them.


    I spoke when he was right by my shoulder. I stayed facing the back of the greenhouse, and I didn¡¯t look around.


    ¡°You don¡¯t have to do it, you know.¡±


    Evans stopped.


    I went on, ¡°Whatever it was he asked you to do, you don¡¯t have to do it.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t know what you¡¯re talking about,¡± he said.


    ¡°I might know more than you think.¡± I turned to him. ¡°Do you need help?¡±


    He was motionless for a second. Then he shook his head. ¡°It¡¯s not like that. Ivers is¡­a friend.¡±


    A friend. He couldn¡¯t even bring himself to say my friend.


    ¡°Ivers is a thug,¡± Eric said. His hands were clenched.


    ¡°Evans¡ª¡± Wes started.


    ¡°I said it¡¯s not like that!¡± Evans yelled. ¡°Why don¡¯t you mind your own business!¡±


    Glass from the wall beside us exploded. Shards flew in all directions. A line of blood appeared along Scott¡¯s cheek, worryingly close to his eye. Several pieces cut up Wes¡¯s arm and shoulder. I could see the tears in his shirt. I thought I saw a glimpse of red.


    Before I could recover from my shock, Dustin was between Eric, Wes, and Evans. He was facing his friends with one hand on each of them.


    ¡°It¡¯s okay,¡± Dustin said. ¡°He didn¡¯t do it on purpose.¡±


    In the silence, I could hear Eric¡¯s ragged breathing.


    ¡°It was an accident,¡± Dustin said.


    Evans gawked at the hole in the wall where the cold night air was already invading the greenhouse.


    ¡°Oh, shit, oh, shit,¡± he muttered. ¡°Grant is going to kill me.¡±


    There was more honesty in that crumpled look of concern than I had ever seen from him before. The real Evans was laid bare¡ªsmall, harried, and afraid.


    Eric and Wes both let out a laugh that was mostly an exhale. Their shoulders relaxed.


    ¡°Hey!¡± Eric tried to look angry again. It didn¡¯t work. ¡°There are some people you hurt over here!¡±


    ¡°Never mind that!¡± Wes yelled. ¡°Think of the plants!¡±


    I had been too worried about the flying glass to notice that two nearby pots had also exploded. They¡¯d burped up their soil, and the plants were laying on the table surrounded by chunks of ceramic. The rest of the plants shivered in the breeze.


    ¡°You¡¯ve got to help me find something to patch the hole,¡± Evans begged.


    I stepped forward. ¡°I¡¯ll look after Scott. You guys go find some cardboard or something.¡±


    ¡°Yeah!¡± Scott chirped. ¡°You guys fix the window. Let the lady look after me.¡±


    When he smiled and winked, I rolled my eyes.

 Chapter 14 - Hackles

    Thankfully, the cut along Scott¡¯s cheekbone wasn¡¯t deep. He had one or two micro cuts around his neck and jaw, and I picked some glass fragments out of his hair, but he was fine.


    By the time I was done, the other boys had finished bracing a cardboard box up against the hole using¡ªwhat else?¡ªpotted plants.


    They were debating what to do about the homeless plants on the table when I called Wes over so I could look at his arm.


    The largest cut was deep enough the blood had soaked through his shirt.


    ¡°She¡¯s checking out your arm, Wes!¡± Scott said. ¡°Flex for her.¡±


    The other boys snickered or scoffed. All I got out was ¡°Wai¡ª!¡± before Wes grinned and flexed.


    Part of the clot opened, and a dribble of blood welled out.


    I sighed as I pulled his tattered shirt sleeve down over the cut and applied pressure. ¡°That was impressive. A real barbarian, that¡¯s what you are.¡±


    From behind him, Dustin said, ¡°She means you¡¯re all brawn and no brains.¡±


    Wes gave me a hapless smile.


    I didn¡¯t smile back. I was too busy scowling at the blood.


    He leaned over and said, ¡°Don¡¯t worry. The shirt was already a loss.¡±


    ¡°You have a nurse, don¡¯t you?¡± I said. ¡°We should go see them. Get both of you patched up.¡±


    All five boys immediately and loudly said, ¡°No!¡±


    ¡°But thank you,¡± Scott added.


    ¡°It¡¯s only a couple of cuts,¡± Eric said. ¡°We¡¯ve got it.¡±


    I filed that under ¡°deeply suspicious¡± but didn¡¯t press the issue. Instead, I turned to Evans. He was inspecting their makeshift repairs. He still looked nervous.


    ¡°It¡¯ll be fine,¡± I assured him. ¡°I don¡¯t think Wuller will mind replacing the glass when he hears it was blown out by your powers.¡± I lowered my voice to better imitate the headmaster. ¡°It¡¯s all a part of the process.¡±


    Evans tried to smile. ¡°Yeah. I know.¡±


    ¡°Has that ever happened before?¡±


    ¡°Not like that.¡± A shiver ran through his whole body.


    ¡°Come on,¡± Wes said. He put one hand on Evans¡¯ shoulder while using the other to maintain pressure on the cut. ¡°We have to start heading back or we¡¯ll be late.¡±


    As we walked through the halls of the main wing, I stayed beside Evans. He kicked along, barely lifting his feet.


    ¡°Hey,¡± I said.


    He glanced at me. ¡°Yeah?¡±


    ¡°What was the favor Ivers wanted?¡±


    Without a word being spoken or any noticeable cue, the four other boys slowed down and went quiet.


    Evans scowled. ¡°It¡¯s nothing. It¡¯s¡­stupid.¡±


    He noticed the polite silence, looked up, and saw the crowd around him. When even Scott shuts up, you know it¡¯s serious.


    Evans let out a loud sigh. ¡°Ivers wanted me to do his homework, all right? Like I said, it¡¯s stupid.¡±


    The other four boys relaxed.


    ¡°That¡¯s all?¡± Scott said.


    ¡°Good,¡± Eric said.


    My eyes moved around the group, looking for any clues to explain their reactions. ¡°Is it usually worse?¡± I asked.


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    ¡°No. At least, not yet,¡± Wes said. ¡°Ivers is a low-level bully. He usually harasses and embarrasses people, but he¡¯s gotten worse recently.¡±


    ¡°Worse how?¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s meaner,¡± Evans muttered. ¡°He won¡¯t stop when he used to.¡±


    ¡°He¡¯ll do it when the teachers are around too,¡± Scott said.


    ¡°Has it ever gotten physical?¡± I asked.


    Eric said, ¡°There¡¯s nothing we can prove.¡±


    ¡°But you suspect?¡± A quiet, angry horror seeped through my body.


    ¡°It wasn¡¯t anything serious enough to leave obvious marks,¡± Wes said, ¡°and the boys aren¡¯t going to tell anyone.¡±


    ¡°Why not?¡± I demanded.


    ¡°What would be the point?¡± Evans grumbled.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know what it¡¯s like over here, but where I come from, bullying was punished.¡±


    ¡°Well, a punishment, sure.¡± Scott shrugged. ¡°But what¡¯s the point of that?¡±


    ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    ¡°It won¡¯t stop him.¡±


    ¡°I thought he was a last-chance boy. Isn¡¯t that what you said? Won¡¯t he be expelled?¡±


    ¡°Ivers is a psychic, Emerra,¡± Wes said.


    That¡¯s why I knew the name. Ivers was on the list of psychics the school had sent to us.


    Wes continued, ¡°Do you really think Wooly would ever expel a psychic? We can get away with just about anything we want.¡±


    There was nothing quiet about my horror now. I looked from face to face and read in each of them a confirmation. When I turned to look at Dustin, the smart one grimaced and jerked his head in a nod.


    Since it was almost lights-out, we split up when we got to the great hall. I¡¯d have to find my way back to the guest rooms alone that night.


    I got there. Eventually.


    Still grumbling about malicious architects who thought a good house needed to be a maze, I walked in to find the front room empty. The loneliness made my already dour mood worse. If only there had been some life there¡ªa smile! a greeting!¡ªbut all I got was an ugly mirror of silence and stillness, reflecting my gloomy frustration.


    I peeked in the bedroom. There was a distinct lack of wolfman. Conrad was probably still out inspecting the school.


    I tried to use his dedication to shame myself into doing some work, but my heart wasn¡¯t in it. It was too busy moping around in the corner of my ribcage.


    I didn¡¯t like being alone. Having Conrad around would have been a big comfort, even if I did have to tamp myself down into a less obnoxious version of myself.


    A shower, my brain said. Get a shower. You¡¯ll feel better.


    It was a good idea. Maybe Darius or Conrad would be back by the time I got out.


    I grabbed my pajamas and a towel, and claimed the shared bathroom.


    When I was done, I knocked before coming out, in case one of them was changing. There was no answer.


    I was still alone, but I was determined not to let it get me down again. If they were both out being useful, then there had to be something that I could do. To be useful. In my pajamas.


    I remembered the file of information Iset had sent. I could work my way through some more of that.


    I went over to the desk in the front room. The file was still in the corner, but Darius had straightened out my dog-ear bookmark and replaced it with a post-it note bearing my name.


    An image of the vampire¡¯s disapproving frown popped into my head, and I smiled. He was always neatening, always straightening. The fact that he tidied around me, but rarely commented on my messes, was one of the many reasons I liked him.


    He''d told me once that he only held himself to his high standards, not anyone else.


    As I reached out for the file, my eyes fell on the edge of a sketch, protruding from a dark green file. All our files were a pale buff color. This one must have belonged to the school. Since that one paper was sticking out by exactly an inch along the entire side, while the rest of the stack was perfectly aligned, I assumed that was how Darius was marking his place.


    But why was he looking at a bunch of sketches? The pile was at least two inches high.


    I opened the file and stared at the first sketch for a long time. I lifted it to see the next one. By the third, I realized¡ªthese were the automatic drawings.


    There were sticker labels on the back of them, giving the name of the boy who drew it, the date it was drawn, and a few notes for each sketch. I didn¡¯t bother reading them.


    I picked up the part of the stack that Darius had already gone through and flipped through them, one by one.


    The styles varied from sketch to sketch, but the brutal lines were eerily similar. There were no hesitation marks, no soft outlines¡ªonly the smash of ink or graphite dragged along their sure path.


    I put one aside. Then another. They looked¡­wrong.


    My mind molded itself around the drawings, trying to make sense of the disjointed story told by the stark images. I shifted each one a little faster. Then faster.


    A stone wall. Two people looming. A table in an empty room. An arm with a hole in it. A pile of cloth and buckles. A room. Another room. Another. A single face that was nothing more than an oval with eyes bashed out in heavy pencil.


    I went through them all, laying some aside, collecting the rest in my hand. When I finished going through the ones I was holding, I picked up the rest and started flipping through them. I only stopped when I uncovered the picture of the bars set in a window.


    It was done in perspective, as if the viewer was looking up. Beyond the bars was a black background scribbled in hard enough to dent the paper.


    I dimly heard a voice beside me.


    ¡°Emerra?¡±


    It was Darius. When had he come in? My fingers hurt from gripping the pile of papers. How long had I been holding them?


    The count didn¡¯t look upset by the fact I¡¯d disarranged everything. He looked worried.


    All right. Fair. I¡¯d be worried too if someone I was working with suddenly started acting like a wackadoodle.


    I made a bid for normalcy: ¡°They¡­uh¡ªthe students¡ªthey drew these while they were in a trance?¡±


    ¡°Supposedly.¡±


    I looked back down at the sketch.


    ¡°What is it?¡± Darius asked.


    I swallowed. ¡°I just found out I have hackles.¡±

 Chapter 15 - Iset and Darius

    Darius was walking the grounds of the school. The school locked all its doors at ten, and it was well past two in the morning, but that was no obstacle to a vampire that wanted privacy and who liked a lot of space to wander while he talked on the phone.


    ¡°It took her less than a second,¡± Darius said. ¡°I had her do it for me again. Both times, the same two boys!¡±


    ¡°What did she say?¡± Iset asked.


    ¡°She said they ¡®looked wrong.¡¯¡±


    ¡°Then it seems that whoever took the notes was right¡ªthe boys were faking it.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not what¡¯s bothering me, and you know it.¡±


    There was a slight change in Iset¡¯s tone that, even from three thousand miles away, showed that the mummy was amused. There was no expression for Darius to picture, but he could imagine her body language: how she would lean back in her chair and lift her bandaged chin. With no other context, he pictured her in the library, as always, surrounded by books.


    ¡°Darius, I¡¯m not sure I do know what¡¯s bothering you,¡± she said. ¡°Emerra¡¯s good at spotting fakes. I thought she proved that with the scroll.¡±


    ¡°It would be nice to have a clearer picture of what kind of powers she has.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sure she¡¯d agree with you.¡±


    ¡°When I called Jacky, he said¡ªquote¡ª¡®I can¡¯t tell you what I don¡¯t know.¡¯¡±


    ¡°Then I guess that you, like the rest of us, will have to wait and see¡ªor, god forbid, learn to live with uncertainty. Dr. Belliston and I haven¡¯t even figured out why her body appears to be so normal, but you think you have a right to a full dossier of her powers? Before Emerra even knows them?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not¡ªit¡¯s not that.¡± The vampire stopped and took a breath. ¡°She had a nightmare last night. We don¡¯t know if it¡¯s because of her powers or if she simply had a bad dream¡­¡±


    His voice trailed off as he thought about the sketch of the bars and the scribbled darkness beyond them. A breeze made the empty branches of the trees around him moan and creak.


    ¡°You¡¯re still worried about her,¡± Iset observed.


    Darius kicked a rock lying by the toe of his shoe. It sailed off into the night. There was a distant crack when it hit the wall.


    Iset went on, ¡°Have you apologized to her?¡±


    The count bowed his head. ¡°Yes, I¡¯ve apologized.¡±


    ¡°And?¡±


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    ¡°She says we¡¯re good.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m glad.¡±


    The vampire raised his head and kept walking. ¡°All right, back to the matter at hand.¡±


    ¡°Which one?¡± the mummy said wryly. ¡°Their psychics or our seer?¡±


    ¡°Were you able to create a database from the pictures I sent you?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t have all the information entered, but I can give you what I¡¯ve found so far.¡±


    ¡°Please.¡±


    ¡°The earliest powers seem to have manifested only about a year ago. They showed up sporadically at first, but as time went on, they started appearing at more frequent intervals.¡±


    ¡°Is the rate steady?¡±


    ¡°Not perfectly steady, no. But it¡¯s showing definite trends, and, Darius, I think the powers are getting stronger.¡±


    ¡°Are you talking about the complexity?¡±


    ¡°No, the powers are all the same¡ªpyrokinesis, telekinesis, clairvoyance¡ªbut what the boys can do is increasing. The first telekinetic I¡¯ve found could scoot a plastic ruler along a table¡ª¡±


    ¡°While the one I saw threw a ten-pound weight into a wall.¡±


    ¡°Exactly.¡±


    ¡°And the power-increase isn¡¯t showing up after they get training?¡±


    ¡°This is from their first display of power.¡±


    The vampire came to a stop. The stone wall was in front of him. His eyes rose from the ground, all the way up its height. He had assumed that Emerra had been exaggerating.


    ¡°Why did they make it so damn tall?¡± he muttered.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s nothing.¡± Darius turned away from the wall, but he thought he could still feel it surrounding him. He walked toward the school. ¡°Iset, are these powers dangerous?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s hard to say,¡± she said. ¡°Whoever wrote the reports tried to keep them as clinical as possible. The pyrokinetics are certainly making an impact. One of the papers included a note to double the number of fire extinguishers in the dorms.¡±


    ¡°How many did they have before?¡±


    ¡°They didn¡¯t say¡±


    ¡°Have any of the boys been hurt?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know. If they have been hurt¡ªwhich seems inevitable¡ªthe records aren¡¯t being kept with these files.¡±


    ¡°How many of the psychics have left the school?¡±


    ¡°None.¡±


    ¡°None of them?¡±


    ¡°Not that I¡¯ve found. The powers started manifesting in the first- and second-year students. Some of those second-year boys are now third-years, but they haven¡¯t graduated yet.¡±


    Darius sighed and pressed into his forehead with his thumb and the tips of his fingers. ¡°You¡¯re saying these powers all showed up around the same time, with only a limited set of boys, they appear to be manifesting more frequently, and they¡¯re becoming stronger?¡±


    ¡°That seems to cover it,¡± Iset said. ¡°I tried to figure out if their powers all appeared at night, but aside from the pyrokinetics and the levitators, it¡¯s impossible to say.¡±


    ¡°What about the pyrokinetics and the levitators?¡±


    ¡°All of them appeared at night. I haven¡¯t found an exception.¡±


    Darius felt a grim satisfaction at the accuracy of his intuition.


    ¡°Was it Emerra¡¯s dreams that made you think of it?¡± Iset asked.


    Darius passed out of the trees and shrubs onto the manicured lawn. ¡°Poisoning.¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°If we suspect someone¡¯s being poisoned, we check to see if their symptoms show up around the same time each day.¡±


    There was a brief pause, then the sound of Iset¡¯s laugh. Darius smiled.


    ¡°Too practical?¡± he asked.


    ¡°Perfectly so. I¡¯ll waste my time musing over the power of the conscious and subconscious mind while you¡¯re out there catching criminals.¡±


    Darius was halfway across the manicured lawn when a sound intruded on his awareness. It was out of place among the auditory clutter that the vampire had acclimatized to. He stopped.


    ¡°Hold on,¡± he whispered, moving the phone from his ear.


    He closed his eyes, letting a million noises wash over him, trying to pick out the pieces that didn¡¯t belong.


    ¡°Darius?¡± Iset said.


    The count raised the phone back to his ear. ¡°I think someone¡¯s awake.¡±


    ¡°Is it Emerra?¡±


    ¡°No.¡± He raised his eyes to the grid of dark windows set into the back wing. ¡°It¡¯s coming from the wrong part of the school.¡±

 Chapter 16 - Pointed Questions

    ¡°Emerra?¡±


    Why did that name sound familiar? And that voice.


    ¡°Mera?¡±


    Was that me? No. But¡­why did it call to me? Why did I want to call back?


    A hand shook my foot.


    Panic flooded my body. I jerked awake. Who was there? How did they get in? I had been watching the door!


    But now my eyes were open. All I saw was Conrad, crouched at the end of the sofa. I turned my head to look at the door to the room. It was the wrong door. I checked my arm. It was clean.


    I put my hand over my eyes and groaned.


    I had been dreaming. It was only a dream.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t mean to scare you,¡± Conrad said.


    ¡°Scare me?¡± I sleepy-grumbled. ¡°What would be scary about waking up and seeing the yellow eyes of an apex predator peering over the arm of a couch at you?¡±


    My brain sent up an ¡°uh-oh¡± flag. Too late, I remembered I wasn¡¯t supposed to tease Conrad.


    I split my fingers to watch his reaction.


    He turned his head. I could see the slight smile on his dark lips, and he let out a quiet chuff.


    When he turned back, he pointed a lazy finger at me. ¡°You¡¯ve got bed head.¡±


    My hand flew up to my hair¡ªonly, I didn¡¯t have hair.


    ¡°You jerk!¡± I grinned and threw my pillow at him.


    He didn¡¯t bother dodging; it hit the side of his head and dropped to his lap. His quiet laugh would forever remind me of a doggy laugh.


    ¡°Let me guess.¡± I pointed to the side of my scalp. ¡°Is it flat on this side?¡±


    ¡°A bit.¡± He sat on the floor and scooted over so he could lean back on the front of the couch. ¡°Darius told me to wake you up. He¡¯ll be out in a second. He wants to talk to us.¡±


    ¡°Okay. Thank you, Conrad.¡±


    I stood up and started folding my blanket.


    ¡°Were you having a nightmare?¡± Conrad asked.


    My folding slowed. ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡±


    That was the truth. I didn¡¯t know if I could call it a nightmare. Nightmares are scary. Nightmares drowned you in horror until you wake up with a spasm¡ªsometimes making you tumble out of bed with all the grace you¡¯d expect from a sack of potatoes.


    But it occurred to me that there was a deep relationship between the concepts of horrifying and horrible.


    The dream had certainly been horrible.


    I finished folding my blanket. Conrad passed me my pillow, and I put them next to the desk. For the sake of Count Vasil, I did my best to keep them neat.


    ¡°Was I flopping around like a maniac again?¡± I asked.


    I¡¯d been told that I did stuff like that. Not in those words, but when everyone looks that worried when you wake up, you kind of get the idea that the phrase ¡°tossing¡± doesn¡¯t do it justice.


    ¡°You were still,¡± Conrad said. ¡°It was weird.¡±


    ¡°Still? Like, motionless? Aren¡¯t most people still when they¡¯re asleep?¡±


    I turned back to the couch. Conrad¡¯s ears were ever-so-slightly dipped back toward his head.


    ¡°Not like that,¡± he said.


    The door to the bedroom swung back. Darius held it open with his foot while he finished drying his hands.


    ¡°Was it the same dream, Emerra?¡± he asked.


    ¡°No,¡± I said.


    Darius tossed the towel back in the room before coming out to join us. ¡°Can you tell us about it?¡± He went over to the armchair and sat down.


    ¡°I was lying on a bed,¡± I said. ¡°It was bare. No pillow. No blankets¡ª¡±


    ¡°Were you cold?¡± Vasil asked.


    I closed my eyes to better remember the dull sense of oppressive heat. ¡°I was hot¡ªreally hot¡ªbut my arms and legs felt¡­icy.¡±


    ¡°Icy?¡± Conrad said.


    ¡°Yeah. It felt like I should have been shivering, but I couldn¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°Were you being restrained?¡± Darius asked.


    ¡°No, I was alone, but I couldn¡¯t move. I felt too lethargic. Like it was taking everything I had just to lay there. I had my eyes open, and I was staring at my arm. Beyond it, I could see the door. There was a small window set in it, but it was blurry because that wasn¡¯t what I was focused on.¡±


    ¡°What were you focused on?¡±


    ¡°I told you, my arm.¡±


    ¡°Why would you be focused on your arm?¡± Conrad said.


    I sighed through my nose. I could tell them what I saw, but how could I make them understand the big, fat, wad of emotions that defined everything. Like a picture made out of a million words spaced to create an image, the dream had been a tangle of feelings that couldn¡¯t be separated from the scene. If you took away the feelings, there¡¯d be nothing to see.


    But I didn¡¯t know how to describe that. I guess they¡¯d have to take what they could get.


    ¡°I was staring at my forearm,¡± I explained. ¡°There were tracks on it.¡±


    Conrad¡¯s fuzzy brow furrowed, but FBI¡¯s Special Agent Darius Vasil had enough experience to catch my drift.


    ¡°You mean needle tracks, don¡¯t you?¡± he said.


    I nodded.


    ¡°How many?¡±


    ¡°Lots. I was staring at one in particular. There was a giant bruise around it, and the hole was still red.¡±


    ¡°Did you feel anything? Any emotions?¡±


    Gosh. Where to start? I decided to take the easy route and named the big one. The one that had been poisoning everything.


    Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    ¡°Despair,¡± I said.


    There was silence.


    I cleared my throat and walked back over to the couch. They had asked, and it wasn¡¯t even my emotions I was describing, but I felt as if I¡¯d blurted out an embarrassing secret.


    ¡°Was there anything else?¡± Darius asked.


    I thought about it as I sat down. There had been something. It had fit in the dream so well, I didn¡¯t think about it at the time, but now, I realized how odd it was.


    ¡°My teeth,¡± I said. ¡°Most of my teeth were gone. They¡¯d been pulled.¡±


    The sour, metallic taste of blood was still in my mouth even though the holes that seemed to suck at my tongue were no longer empty.


    There it was. My dream in a nutshell. I sat back and waited for the world to react.


    Darius rubbed his forehead. ¡°I don¡¯t suppose you can tell us if this was a seer¡¯s dream or not?¡±


    I threw up my hands for maximum shrug effect. ¡°Merry Christmas! Have another puzzle.¡±


    ¡°Thank you,¡± Darius said dryly. ¡°I¡¯ll put it in a pile with the others. Conrad, did you finish looking over the building yesterday?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve done most of the places I can easily get into. I was planning on finishing the open areas today.¡±


    ¡°Did you find anything?¡±


    ¡°Nothing.¡±


    Darius looked at me. ¡°How much of the school did you cover yesterday?¡±


    ¡°Uhhhhh, not much,¡± I admitted. ¡°But I did learn that Wuller¡¯s delusional about there being no advantage to claiming you have powers.¡±


    As I explained what happened with Ivers, Darius¡¯s expression darkened.


    When I finished, he said, ¡°Seth Ivers is a pyrokinetic. Has he ever used his power to terrorize the other boys?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± I said. ¡°I can ask, but even if he has, they might not tell me.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll ask Reisig about his abilities. That¡¯ll give us a better idea how much of a threat he is.¡±


    ¡°Even if he has used his power to threaten another student, unless he¡¯s actually hurt them, I don¡¯t think Wuller¡¯s going to do much.¡±


    ¡°If I find out that he¡¯s used his power to terrorize anyone, Wuller will be the least of his problems. In the meantime, both of you should know, Iset¡¯s gone through the files I¡¯ve sent her, and there¡¯s reason for us to suspect that someone¡¯s doing something to these boys deliberately. The school¡¯s been open for seven years, but the powers only showed up a year ago, and they only showed up in first- and second-year students.¡±


    Conrad¡¯s ears twitched low. ¡°That sounds like someone wanted to make sure they had more time¡­¡±


    I picked up where he left off: ¡°More time with the experiment.¡±


    The count pointed at me. ¡°Exactly. From this moment on, we¡¯re treating this as a crime.¡±


    ¡°What were we doing before?¡±


    ¡°We were politely asking questions and demonstrating our curiosity.¡±


    ¡°And now?¡±


    ¡°Now we¡¯ll be asking pointed questions. We need to figure out how this is happening, and who, if anyone, is making it happen. To do that, we¡¯re going to have to look into who has the means, the motive, and the opportunity.


    ¡°We don¡¯t even know what the means are,¡± Conrad pointed out.


    ¡°That¡¯s true,¡± Darius said, ¡°but we know that the person doing this would need to have an in-depth knowledge of magic or psychic powers, and they would have to have some kind of tool or ability related to one or both of them.¡±


    ¡°So we¡¯re looking for someone with a background in magic?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Magic. Medicine. Psychic abilities.¡±


    ¡°Medicine?¡± Conrad said. ¡°You think a drug could do this?¡±


    Darius said, ¡°Two weeks ago I didn¡¯t think anything could do this. Now I¡¯m trying to keep an open mind.¡±


    I raised my hand to get their attention. ¡°If we¡¯re talking about motive, isn¡¯t that pretty much going to be Wuller? I mean, he built this school. His standing will only go up if he can train a bunch of psychics.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s true, but we don¡¯t have a really clear picture of why he built the school. I would like to learn more about that.¡±


    Conrad said to me, ¡°By your argument, Aaron Reisig has almost as much motive as Wuller. He may not have built the school, but he¡¯s the one training the psychics, and he wouldn¡¯t have a job if they weren¡¯t around.¡±


    Darius added, ¡°There¡¯s also a chance that someone else wanted to experiment and Wuller¡¯s school made a convenient cover for their work.¡±


    Ohhhhhhh, I did not like that idea. Not one bit. Neither did the hairs on the back of my neck. In protest, they all stood up and tried to leave.


    ¡°Are we talking about a mad scientist?¡± I asked.


    Darius frowned.


    ¡°We are!¡± I cried. ¡°We¡¯re talking about someone experimenting on these kids, maybe before doing it on themselves. Paging Dr. Freaking Jekyll!¡±


    ¡°Dr. Jekyll at least had the decency to experiment on himself,¡± Darius said. ¡°Are there any other motives we can think of?¡±


    The long silence was broken by Conrad.


    ¡°There might be someone who hates Wuller.¡±


    My head jerked back. Twice. Once because¡ªwho could possibly hate old Wooly? The second time was because I couldn¡¯t see how that would be a motive.


    ¡°How does that work?¡± I said.


    ¡°If someone is making this happen,¡± Conrad said, ¡°then they can probably make it stop happening. Say it¡¯s a drug of some kind. What happens when you stop giving the boys the drug? Their powers go away. Someone could be waiting until Wuller¡¯s whipped up a lot of publicity, then they take away the drug. It¡¯s all fake, and Wuller¡¯s ruined.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s possible,¡± the vampire admitted. ¡°None of the psychics have left the school, so we don¡¯t know what will happen to their powers when they do.¡±


    ¡°They have breaks though,¡± I said. ¡°They just got back from one.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s a good point. Ask Mr. Osborn about that when you get the chance.¡±


    I nodded.


    ¡°Which brings us to the question of opportunity,¡± Darius said. ¡°That will primarily depend on the means they¡¯re using, but I think it¡¯s likely that whoever is doing this would need to be close to the boys.¡±


    ¡°Meaning they work here,¡± I said.


    ¡°Work here, or attend school here. We can¡¯t eliminate the possibility that a student is involved.¡±


    I didn¡¯t like that idea either, but I remembered the bit about the open mind.


    He went on, ¡°I got a chance to talk to the Torr about what they investigated. They said that all their tests showed that the food and water were clean, there was nothing suspicious in the rooms, there were no suspicious drugs in the nurse¡¯s supply, and there was no magic detected in the school.¡±


    ¡°That doesn¡¯t leave a lot for us to investigate,¡± Conrad said.


    ¡°Only if you assume that their findings were accurate. Before I make that assumption, I want to know what you and Emerra find.¡±


    ¡°But I can¡¯t see any of the psychic powers,¡± I reminded him, ¡°and Conrad couldn¡¯t smell them. We learned that with the demonstration yesterday.¡±


    Darius raised a finger. He did that to warn people when he was about to get technical. ¡°You couldn¡¯t see anything with those powers. And I¡¯m not asking you to look for the powers. We¡¯re trying to find the source. Emerra?¡±


    ¡°Sir!¡±


    ¡°I want you to focus on looking around as much of the school as you can. If there¡¯s anything to be seen, you¡¯re our best chance at seeing it. Keep spending time with the students, try to figure out if they know anything, but whenever you aren¡¯t busy with them, explore the school.¡±


    ¡°Got it.¡±


    ¡°Conrad, you finish sniffing around. I¡¯ll try to gather as much information as possible from Wuller and the other teachers.¡±


    ¡°And we¡¯re trying to find out if it¡¯s Wuller or Reisig?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Yes, but we¡¯re also trying to find anyone else who might have a motive, or anyone with a magical or psychic background.¡±


    ¡°You said that this only started about a year ago?¡± Conrad asked.


    ¡°As far as we know,¡± Darius said. ¡°The earliest files are from mid-October. About a month and a half after the term started.¡±


    ¡°Did anything change around that time?¡±


    Darius snapped his fingers. ¡°That is an excellent question. We¡¯ll have to look into it, but at the moment, we¡¯re here as Wuller¡¯s guests. I¡¯d rather not upset him if we can avoid it.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t think he¡¯ll want all those pointed questions pointed at him?¡± I said.


    ¡°Something like that. Conrad, talk to Miller. As Wuller¡¯s secretary, he probably knows everything that goes on around here¡ª¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Darius.¡±


    The vampire stopped.


    Conrad¡¯s voice was soft. ¡°I can¡¯t.¡±


    I understood the count¡¯s hesitation. He probably felt as bewildered as I did. Conrad respected Darius¡ªlike, in an unspoken, bone-deep, manly kind of way. The only response I¡¯d ever heard Conrad give to Darius¡¯s instructions was some version of ¡°yes, sir.¡±


    ¡°May I ask why?¡± Darius said.


    ¡°Miller¡¯s afraid of me.¡±


    There was another short silence.


    ¡°Is it that bad?¡± the count asked.


    ¡°If I¡¯m the one asking questions, I don¡¯t think we¡¯ll get the answers we need.¡±


    I almost¡ªalmost¡ªmade some smart aleck comment about underestimating the power of intimidation, but, thank god, my common sense cut in fast enough to stop me. My eyes moved from Darius¡¯s somber face¡ªhis brow, faintly creased with worry¡ªto Conrad¡¯s drooping ears, and for the first time, I wondered what it would be like to know that everyone was afraid of you.


    ¡°I could do it,¡± I said. ¡°I can talk to Miller, then go sneaking around the school. I mean, you¡¯d have to tell me what you want me to ask and all that, but I don¡¯t mind.¡±


    ¡°Thank you, Emerra,¡± Darius said. ¡°I would appreciate that. I want you to ask him about anything that might have changed a year ago. Who was hired, who was fired, did they bring anything in, or build anything¡ªall of it. You can be honest with Miller about why we¡¯re asking. The lad is smart. I think he knows that we¡¯re suspicious about what¡¯s going on, and I don¡¯t think he disapproves.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll corner him at breakfast.¡±


    Darius glanced at his watch. ¡°Which will be very soon. I presume you¡¯ll need the bathroom to change?¡±


    I stood up and went for my luggage. ¡°If you don¡¯t mind.¡±


    ¡°Be sure to ask Miller if Reisig was hired before or after the first psychics were found,¡± Darius said.


    I paused as I was lifting my bag. ¡°Wouldn¡¯t that be after?¡±


    ¡°That seems like the obvious answer, doesn¡¯t it?¡±


    The way the count said that made me realize things weren¡¯t always as obvious as they seemed.


    I finished straightening up. ¡°Darius, yesterday, why did you ask how they found the psychics?¡±


    ¡°Because there¡¯s a large difference between training someone who¡¯s already manifested a power, and training someone who then manifests a power.¡±


    I puzzled over that line the whole time I was getting dressed.

 Chapter 17 - The Assistant

    Darius was one-hundred percent spot-on about Miller. It was almost spooky. I stood in Miller¡¯s office¡ªwell, the room outside of Wuller¡¯s office where Miller did most of his work¡ªand stuttered out an explanation of what we wanted to know, and Ha! You may think it¡¯s weird, but I swear there¡¯s a good reason for it. No. Really. Then I smiled and tried to look inoffensive.


    Miller had been leaning back on his desk with his arms folded, gazing at me while I spoke. When I finished, he didn¡¯t move. The slightly worried frown on his face didn¡¯t move either.


    A few seconds passed, then he said, ¡°The other groups never asked for that information.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, well,¡± I said, ¡°we¡¯re¡­different¡­from the other groups.¡±


    In my head, I added, They probably don¡¯t have a vampire FBI agent who treats finding a misplaced cuff link like a man-hunt.


    Miller said, ¡°They were investigating if the powers were real, but that¡¯s not what you¡¯re doing, is it?¡±


    I squeezed two of my fingers with my other hand. ¡°No.¡±


    Miller raised his head, then dropped it¡ªgiving me one thoughtful nod¡ªand hummed.


    I squeezed my fingers harder, then forced myself to stop when I realized I was doing it.


    ¡°Yes, Miss Cole. I would be happy to help you.¡± Miller turned around and went behind his desk. He pulled out two large, leather binders from the top drawer, laid them on the desk, and opened them. He used both hands to flip through the binders¡ªthe left binder getting his left hand, the right binder getting his right hand. His eyes moved back and forth from book to book.


    His ambidextrous efficiency took me by surprise and colored me a nice, bright shade of impressed. If I¡¯d tried something like that, I would¡¯ve had to pick up my scattered brains after only a second. His nervousness was gone now too. This wasn¡¯t a young man, feeling out of place, trying to make himself amiable. Alex Miller created and managed a world of information, and he knew every inch of his system.


    I took a step toward him. ¡°Are you going to tell Wuller?¡±


    Miller didn¡¯t look up. ¡°Mr. Wuller is a busy man. I don¡¯t think it¡¯s important to bother him with such a simple request. Besides, he asked me to make myself useful to you.¡±


    There was something there, an itty-bitty timbre to his words. Was it? Surely not. But¡­maybe, there was a hint of an attitude.


    Miller glanced up and caught me grinning at him. That made him blush and clear his throat nervously. Thus, order returned to the universe.


    He pulled out his chair and sat down while motioning for me to do the same. I took the chair he motioned to, but I pulled it around so I could sit down on the same side of the desk as him. I was junk when it came to reading upside down.


    ¡°The new sports complex was finished about that time.¡± Miller tapped on the left binder. Under his finger was a calendar, filled with his neat script. ¡°I remember they were over a month late completing it, so the boys had to start their year in the old gym at the bottom of the school.¡±


    ¡°What about the new student dorms?¡± I asked.


    ¡°No. Those had been finished on time¡ªbefore the beginning of the school year. We made that our priority so the third-years would have a place to stay. We also had the old annex torn down.¡±


    ¡°The annex?¡±


    ¡°It was put up during the nineteen-seventies, but the people who built it didn¡¯t do a good job. It was too deteriorated to be worth saving.¡±


    I leaned over so I could point to his notes. ¡°Are all of these construction notes?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m afraid so, and there¡¯s still lots of areas that need work. Fortunately, we have time to get the school in order before we grow into it.¡±


    ¡°Were there any other changes¡ªnot just to the buildings?¡±


    ¡°Oh, dozens, but since the construction was the most disruptive, my memories are generally tied to what renovation disaster we were dealing with when it happened. You asked about teachers?¡±


    ¡°Teachers. Any new instructors.¡± A shot of inspiration hit me. ¡°Did you get a new cook?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Miller said. ¡°No new cook. Maybe someday.¡± He sounded wistful. ¡°We hired four new teachers for that year, but only Mr. Turner is still with us.¡±


    ¡°Turner? Head of Salix House?¡±


    ¡°Yes. Do you want the names of the other three?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll probably need them. Do you have a paper and pen? There¡¯s no way I¡¯m going to be able to remember this all.¡±


    Miller pulled out a drawer and passed me the paper and pen. I tried not to feel self-conscious about my writing while Miller watched me take down a few notes. I wrote Turner¡¯s name and the three other names Miller gave me.


    ¡°What about Aaron Reisig?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Ah. Yes. He¡¯s not really a teacher,¡± Miller said. My twitchy ears thought they detected another one of his microtones.


    ¡°When was he added to the staff?¡± I asked.


    ¡°He started coming in September of that year.¡±


    ¡°September? Did Wuller bring him on before the first psychics were discovered?¡±


    Miller leaned back. ¡°That greatly depends on how you define a few of those terms.¡±


    I tilted my head, confused. It wasn¡¯t like I¡¯d used any big words.


    Miller continued, ¡°Reisig started coming to Setlan on Lee before the first pyrokinetics had manifested¡ªperhaps that would be the easiest way to say it. There had been other claims. Reisig was brought in, several times, as a consultant. When we started seeing more and more psychic powers, he was hired full-time.¡±


    Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.


    ¡°When was that?¡±


    ¡°December.¡± Miller rested his hands in his lap. His voice went quiet. ¡°It was only five boys back then.¡± A brief smile wavered, then disappeared. ¡°Those were exciting times.¡±


    He leaned forward to pull the right binder closer to him.


    ¡°As for the other staff,¡± he said as he flipped through the pages. ¡°Here¡¯s a list of our hirings and firings.¡± He tapped on the page and pushed it closer to me.


    ¡°That¡¯s a lot of names,¡± I said.


    ¡°To be fair, that does cover the whole school year. If you¡¯re looking for the ones brought in from September to December¡­¡±


    He ran his finger from the top of the page, down, and stopped under the name of Edgar Pierce, who¡¯d been hired to assist the groundskeeper. I don¡¯t think he liked the work much. He quit two months later.


    I dutifully started jotting down the names of everyone that had been hired. The ones that were still there got a check next to their names.


    ¡°Did you guys make any changes to what you did? Or to how you did things?¡± I asked. ¡°Did anybody bring in anything new?¡±


    Miller leaned his head back and peered at a point near the ceiling. ¡°Not like I think you mean. We altered our schedule because the teachers and students wanted more time between classes, and we switched out our math system, but I don¡¯t think that kind of information will be useful to you.¡±


    I shrugged. ¡°Well, I mean¡ªwhat¡¯s useful?¡±


    Sometimes I say stupid things because I don¡¯t know what else to say, but Miller took my question at face value.


    ¡°Anything that might have had an impact on our psychics. Or the students who would become psychic.¡±


    Dang. The kid was smart.


    Not a kid! Young man. Honestly, he was probably older than me, and if I wasn¡¯t a kid, then he wasn¡¯t either.


    Besides, at that moment, he was putting off the air of someone who was older than his years.


    I suddenly leaned toward him. I know it was sudden because he leaned back as if I¡¯d pounced at him.


    ¡°Miller, what do you think is going on?¡±


    ¡°Wha-what do you mean?¡±


    ¡°With the psychics. Come on, you must know how weird this is.¡±


    Miller looked down and cleared his throat. ¡°Yes, I-I¡¯m afraid I do know¡­how weird it is. But that¡¯s all I know. You see, I¡¯ve been here, Miss Cole. I¡¯ve been here the whole time. I watched it happen.¡±


    ¡°You said it was exciting.¡±


    ¡°At first it was exciting, but then, as you said, it started to get weird.¡± He let out a quick, aggravated sigh. When he spoke again, he seemed to be speaking to the desk. ¡°You aren¡¯t the first person to try to delve into why it¡¯s happening.¡±


    I remembered what he¡¯d said about the other teams the Torr had sent. Miller didn¡¯t know about their investigations.


    ¡°It was you, wasn¡¯t it?¡± I said.


    He nodded.


    It was a useless question, and I knew it, but I asked anyway. ¡°Did you learn anything?¡±


    ¡°No.¡± There was a flicker of a forced smile. ¡°But maybe you¡¯ll have more luck. After all, it¡¯s your job to get to the bottom of this. I could only ask questions in my spare time.¡±


    There was a new tone in his voice, but this one made it sound tight. I couldn¡¯t tell if it was frustration or sadness.


    ¡°Wuller keeps ya busy, huh?¡± I drawled.


    This time Miller smiled for real. ¡°I can never tell if that¡¯s a typical American accent or if you¡¯re using slang at me.¡±


    ¡°Using slang is pretty typical.¡±


    ¡°Mr. Vasil doesn¡¯t talk that way.¡±


    ¡°Mr. Vasil is too old to be an American. Everyone knows that all Americans are young, beautiful, and live in New York City or Hollywood.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s no good, Miss Cole. I studied in London. I¡¯ve seen the tourists.¡±


    ¡°Bummer. What about our loud and obnoxious reputation?¡±


    ¡°Oh.¡± Miller knit his brow and nodded several times. ¡°Still intact. Well intact.¡± He flashed me a smile, in case I couldn¡¯t tell he was joking, then he leaned back in his chair and sighed. ¡°Mr. Wuller does keep me busy. Very busy. Fortunately, I have a talent for the work.¡±


    He wasn¡¯t joking when he said that. And I wasn¡¯t joking when I answered.


    ¡°He¡¯s lucky to have you.¡±


    Miller turned his head to look at me. ¡°While I was growing up, I always wanted to be a great man¡ªsomeone important, who could get things done¡ªbut then I came here and discovered that what I was truly great at was being an assistant to a great man. I have a talent for it. I enjoy it¡­but all the same, it took some mental adjustment.¡±


    There was no micro tone or undercurrent of emotion. Miller was only stating facts. Because he could say them without any bitterness, his words carried even more weight. I could feel them gently pressing into my heart.


    And curse my too-honest heart that just had to respond to his honesty.


    ¡°I think it¡¯s wonderful,¡± I said.


    Miller cocked his head and gazed at me.


    ¡°You think it¡¯s not important,¡± I said. ¡°It is. If you do something good¡ªlike, really well¡ªto help people, they remember you. One of my¡ª¡±


    I stopped. If I wanted to keep the story short, I¡¯d have to simplify. Saying ¡®one of my foster parents¡¯ usually led to distracting questions.


    I tried again. ¡°There was a lady I stayed with for a while. She had a bad back, so she always asked me to help her with grocery shopping. There was a grocery bagger at the store¡ªall he did was stick the food in the bags¡ªbut we would always get in one of the lines he was serving, even if it meant waiting behind three extra people, because he was good at his job. He cared. Heavy stuff on the bottom, bread and bananas on top, meat separate. I don¡¯t think they exchanged more than five words a week, but Mrs. Neal loved him. He was one of the most important people in the world because he bagged our groceries right. A job well done matters.¡±


    I could have rambled on to draw out the moral or try to explain how much that meant to me¡ªthe idea that a person becomes important because they care enough to do a good job, that nobody is a nobody if one person is glad they¡¯re alive¡ªbut I figured I had monologued enough. I couldn¡¯t even bring myself to look at Miller, so I shut my mouth. The inevitable, fluffy, pink cloud of over-sharing embarrassment descended.


    I twiddled my fingers and tried, desperately, to think of a way to make the silence go away.


    ¡°So, um,¡± I said, ¡°how did Wuller find you?¡±


    ¡°Find me?¡± Miller said.


    ¡°Did he put out an ad for a personal assistant?¡±


    ¡°Oh. No. We knew each other from the Psychic Society.¡±


    My head jerked up.


    Miller continued, unconcerned, ¡°When he heard I was looking for a job, he mentioned that he could use an assistant.¡±


    ¡°The what-now?¡± I said.


    ¡°Come again?¡±


    ¡°The Psychic Society?¡±


    ¡°Technically, it¡¯s called the Society for Psychic and Paranormal Research, but everyone calls it the Psychic Society for short.¡±


    ¡°And you and Wuller were both members?¡±


    Miller nodded.


    ¡°Even though you¡¯re not psychics?¡±


    ¡°There are a lot more people interested in psychic abilities than there are psychics, Miss Cole.¡± He paused. ¡°At least, there used to be.¡±


    My phone rang. It was so unexpected, I almost jumped out of my chair.


    Who? Why? And why now?


    I pulled my phone out of my pocket.


    Darius.


    Okay. That was a call I ought to take.


    I grabbed onto Miller¡¯s arm. ¡°Bookmark this conversation. Use a sticker. A highlighter!¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t let me forget it!¡±


    ¡°All right!¡±


    I stood up. As I walked away from the desk, I answered the call.


    ¡°Darius,¡± I hissed into my phone, ¡°is this important?¡±


    I¡¯m so polite.


    He returned my politeness in kind.


    ¡°Yes,¡± he said bluntly. ¡°I need you over here as soon as possible.¡±


    ¡°But¡ª¡±


    ¡°As soon as possible.¡±


    There was a strange emphasis in his voice. I recognized it.


    His hypnotic powers¡ª


    Oh, right. He didn¡¯t like it when I used that term.


    His ¡°vampiric influence¡± didn¡¯t work over the phone, but the fact he¡¯d slipped into it, probably without meaning to, made it clear how important the matter was.


    ¡°Where are you?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Second floor, main wing, toward the north end of the building.¡±


    I grit my teeth and stared up at the ceiling. Because of course I knew where north was!


    ¡°Go to the main stairs,¡± Darius said. ¡°Come to the second floor. I¡¯ll have Reisig meet you there and bring you to me.¡±


    ¡°Got it. I¡¯m on my way.¡±


    We hung up.


    I went back to the desk, picked up my notes, and crammed them into my pocket while saying, as sweetly as possible, ¡°Mr. Miller, could I bother you for a moment? I need someone to point me to the main staircase in the main wing. We¡¯re on the third floor, right?¡±

 Chapter 18 - A Display of Power

    Aaron Reisig was waiting for me near the stairs. He was standing with his hands in his pockets, rocking back on his heels, and yet, he still managed to look tense.


    That didn¡¯t necessarily mean anything. When Darius was uptight, he tended to make everyone around him tense. Everyone with an exposed neck, anyway.


    Reisig looked up when he heard me coming.


    When I was level with him, I opened my mouth to ask if he knew what was going on, but he spoke first.


    ¡°This way.¡±


    He set off down the hall. I had no trouble matching his slow pace.


    ¡°Darius made it sound like I should hurry,¡± I said.


    Reisig took three steps before he answered. ¡°He¡¯s worried you¡¯ll miss the chance to see what¡¯s going on.¡±


    ¡°So¡­should we hurry?¡±


    The instructor shrugged. It was another three steps before he said, ¡°Why you, Miss Cole?¡±


    ¡°Why me what?¡±


    ¡°Why was he so insistent that you needed to see him?¡±


    My mouth clamped shut and my brain skipped into overdrive as I tried to catch up to a conversation that I wasn¡¯t a part of.


    ¡°I have no idea,¡± I admitted.


    I could feel Reisig looking at me out of the corner of his eye. It was not a comfortable feeling.


    ¡°I thought they sent you because you were young enough to get along with the boys,¡± he observed.


    At least I could speak to that.


    ¡°Well, they certainly didn¡¯t mind taking advantage of it.¡±


    To my relief, Reisig stopped asking questions. I didn¡¯t want him to press any further (you can only hide so much ignorance), so I kept my mouth shut.


    Darius was waiting for us in the hall. When I saw him, I picked up the pace. Reisig mimicked me.


    The count nodded his approval when I reached him. He opened the door and held it wide, but when Reisig tried to follow me in, he was stopped by Darius¡¯s up-raised hand.


    The count said, ¡°I would prefer if you remain outside, Mr. Reisig.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°Privacy.¡±


    ¡°Jolie is my student, Mr. Vasil. He¡¯s under my care.¡±


    Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    ¡°It isn¡¯t his privacy I¡¯m concerned with. I¡¯ve already talked to Wuller. He insisted that there should be one representative from the school in the room, but he elected to fill the position himself. You need to remain out here.¡±


    Reisig¡¯s forced smile couldn¡¯t quite hide his frustration, but he nodded and turned away.


    Darius put a hand on my arm to usher me into the room. He made sure the door was completely closed behind us.


    ¡°Darius¡ª¡± I started to whisper.


    He put a finger over his lips, then motioned for me to walk further into the room.


    The room was small and dark. The mullioned window let in enough light to see by, but the clouds dimmed it until it could only highlight the shadows. Wuller was standing off to the side, hands clasped together, still beaming, but silent. There was a bed in the room, and I could make out a figure on the bed. Behind the bed¡­


    I staggered back into Darius.


    ¡°Holy¡ª!¡±


    I was able to cut off the cuss word that had leapt to my mouth, but I turned and clawed at the vampire¡¯s suit coat, trying to get a grip on something, because it sure wasn¡¯t going to be my heart rate.


    Darius took me by the shoulders. ¡°It¡¯s all right, Emerra. Take a deep breath.¡±


    Yeah. Okay. A deep breath. It took a few tries, but I managed.


    ¡°Darius,¡± I whispered, on the verge of tears, ¡°what is that thing?¡±


    ¡°You can see something?¡±


    ¡°Yes!¡±


    ¡°What does it look like?¡±


    I turned around. The thing hadn¡¯t moved. It was still standing behind the bed, watching us. It didn¡¯t seem threatening.


    I stepped away from the count and crept toward the bed to get a better look.


    The thing was a person. An all-white person. Not Caucasian white. Paper white¡ªsnow white would be more accurate. There were lines of pearlized blues and delicate grays that prevented the figure from looking like a flat plane of color. And there was something wrong with the figure. Either someone had turned its opacity down to ninety-eight percent, or it was made of solidified fog. If I¡¯d been brave enough to try to touch the thing, I was sure my hand would sweep right through it.


    My eyes moved from the white figure down to the boy on the bed. They had the same clothes. The same face.


    ¡°Is he dead?¡± I asked.


    ¡°No,¡± Wuller assured me.


    ¡°It¡¯s his ghost,¡± I said.


    Darius corrected me. ¡°It¡¯s his soul. Mr. Jolie is a psychic. His power is astral projection. And you, Miss Cole, have finally been able to confirm it beyond a doubt.¡±


    Wuller¡¯s pleased chuckle filled the room.


    I raised my eyes to Jolie¡¯s soul. He could see me. I was as sure of that as I was that I couldn¡¯t touch him. When our eyes met, a violent shiver shook me.


    ¡°Darius, do you need anything else?¡± I asked in a rather croaky voice.


    ¡°No. You can send in Mr. Reisig.¡±


    Wuller stepped away from his corner. Even his hushed voice could fill a room. ¡°I¡¯ll let Reisig finish timing the event. Do you plan on staying here, Vasil?¡±


    ¡°If you don¡¯t mind, Headmaster.¡±


    ¡°Not at all! I¡¯m glad you got the chance to see this. It was more than we could have hoped for. Are you sure¡ª¡±


    ¡°No notes,¡± Darius said firmly. ¡°I¡¯ll write a testimonial that can be left in Jolie¡¯s file and leave the full report with the local Torr.¡±


    ¡°Ah. Well, I understand.¡±


    I let Wuller open the door for me. I didn¡¯t want him to see how bad my hands were shaking.


    Reisig turned to us as we came out of the room.


    ¡°Mr. Reisig!¡± Wuller boomed. ¡°Thank you for your patience. I¡¯m sorry to bar you out like that. It was selfish of me. But your student is waiting for you, and the stopwatches are as you left them.¡±


    ¡°What happened in there?¡± Reisig asked.


    Wuller¡¯s inscrutable smile was so pronounced, I wondered why he didn¡¯t just wink and get it over with. ¡°You better get inside.¡±


    As the door closed behind Reisig, the headmaster put a friendly hand on my shoulder. ¡°As for you, Miss Cole¡ªyou look like you could use some tea.¡±


    I laughed and put a hand over my eyes. There was a lot of nervous relief in that laugh, along with some honest delight. I lowered my hand to my hip and said, ¡°How many days have I been in Britain, and this is the first time anyone has ever offered me tea!¡±


    ¡°Were you disappointed?¡±


    ¡°Heartbroken.¡±


    ¡°Then we must rectify the situation immediately! Let¡¯s go back to my office.¡±

 Chapter 19 - Tea

    When we entered the outer office, Miller jumped up from his chair to ask if everything was all right. Wuller waved him down again.


    ¡°Jolie¡¯s power activated,¡± the headmaster explained. ¡°Mr. Vasil wanted to make sure that there was another witness for the Torr. Now, would you please hold any calls and put off any visitors, Mr. Miller. We¡¯re taking a short tea break.¡±


    The top part of Miller¡¯s body jerked with his nod.


    We went inside Wuller¡¯s office. He closed the door behind us and walked over to the sideboard beside his desk. On the far corner of the sideboard was an electric kettle. He poured some water from the nearby pitcher into it.


    He said, ¡°Seeing as how you¡¯ve never had the chance to enjoy English tea before, I hope you¡¯ll trust me to make it?¡±


    I was still standing by the door. ¡°You¡¯re the man in tweeds, Mr. Wuller.¡±


    The edges of his mustache bent up with his broad smile. ¡°And that makes me an expert?¡±


    ¡°Absolutely.¡±


    He chuckled and returned his attention to the kettle. A series of quiet beeps sounded as he pressed the buttons.


    I was still spooked from seeing the disembodied soul. It was an unpleasant, jittery sensation, like having drunk too much coffee on test day. Holding still was hard. Too much quiet was hard. I wanted to distract myself with something blissfully dull.


    I wandered toward the bookshelves across from me.


    While I scanned the colorful array of book spines, I said, ¡°Do you always make your own tea?¡±


    ¡°Most of the time,¡± Wuller said. ¡°I find it a valuable ritual. Even on the days when you¡¯re buried by the sheer insanity of your work, there is still tea, and if you¡¯re wise enough to make it yourself, there are a few minutes before the tea when you can relax.¡±


    There were a lot of books on psychics and psychic abilities. That I expected. But there were an equal number of books on education and philosophy. Tucked away in the lowest corner of the bookshelf, there were a few books on magic. Anyone else might have thought they were a joke (one or two of them could have fit in with the more dubious books on psychic abilities), but I had seen at least one of the titles in Iset¡¯s collection¡ªthe one she kept on the shelf closest to her desk.


    Wuller went on, ¡°I¡¯m afraid I don¡¯t have a proper teapot. I hope a mug will do?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s the tea that counts,¡± I said.


    ¡°And that, my dear lady, is the proper sentiment.¡±


    As I moved over to the second bookshelf, my eyes were drawn to a four-by-six, framed photo. It was a casual shot that showed a tall, slim woman in simple, stately clothing, leaning back on a rail. She was trying to brush the hair out of her face, but she was smiling because the wind seemed irrationally determined to thwart her. You could see it pulling the rest of her hair and the edge of her jacket sideways. Beside her was a boy in his midteens, laughing at his own windswept condition. His hair was long and scruffy, and his clothes were all grunge. As different as their styles were, the two of them somehow looked as if they belonged together.


    There was something so painfully beautiful about the unscripted happiness in the picture, it made me want to touch it. If the photo was real, that meant the moment had to be real too.


    But that was stupid. And I knew it was stupid. I tangled my fingers behind my back to keep my hands busy and gazed at the picture instead.


    ¡°My wife and son.¡±


    I turned. Wuller was standing behind me. He must have walked over while I was staring. Even though I was looking right at him, I found it hard to believe such a subdued voice could belong to him.


    ¡°My¡­my ex-wife, I should say.¡± He returned to the kettle. When he spoke again, he was back to his bluff and boisterous self. ¡°I¡¯m afraid she left me. It¡¯s hard to blame her. Beware obsession, Miss Cole! You¡¯ll get what you¡¯re obsessing over, but it costs you everything else.¡± He picked up the kettle and poured the steaming water into two mugs, then he picked up a small, brass hourglass and flipped it over. The pale sand dribbled from the top. ¡°Black tea always tastes best with a bit of milk. Do you take sugar?¡±


    ¡°Probably.¡±


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    I put it in everything else¡ªwhy not tea?


    He put a small sugar bowl in the empty area in the middle of his desk. I wandered over and sat down in the chair across from his.


    ¡°You¡¯re a medium?¡± Wuller asked.


    ¡°An extra-small, usually, but it depends on the brand.¡±


    The headmaster stopped and stared at me. He resembled a bug-eyed, bemused statue. Then, suddenly, he threw back his head and bellowed out a laugh. He was still laughing when he sat down in his chair. It creaked as he leaned into it.


    ¡°I meant,¡± he said, still grinning, ¡°are you a spiritual medium?¡±


    ¡°Oh. Right.¡± I blushed so hard, if you took off my shoes, my toes would have been fuchsia. But at least I wasn¡¯t skittish anymore! Apparently, a person can only handle one psyche-scarring emotional state at a time. ¡°I¡­uh¡­¡± I cleared my throat.


    ¡°It¡¯s all right, Miss Cole. Mr. Vasil has already sworn me to silence. I assure you, I will honor that, and I understand if you don¡¯t want to talk about it.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not that,¡± I said. ¡°I don¡¯t mind talking about it¡ªnot with you. I mean, you know. But it¡¯s hard to know what to say.¡±


    ¡°Can you see spirits?¡±


    Spirits. Magic. A whole bunch of weird things I wasn¡¯t supposed to talk about casually. And then there were the dreams. By the way, Mr. Headmaster, are you by any chance keeping someone behind bars at this school? No? Do you mind if I take a look at your detention room?


    Dropping all that on him seemed like a bad idea. I decided to keep it simple.


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s a rare gift. May I ask how long you¡¯ve had it?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s hard to say.¡±


    That statement was mostly true. I would have found it hard to explain that the first time I¡¯d ever seen an intact soul had been¡ªlet me check my phone¡ªabout ten minutes ago?


    ¡°Has it made your life difficult?¡±


    Wuller was watching me, his eyes soft and his face concerned. My heart reached out with a hundred wide, begging arms, opening to the man who wanted to listen. The reaction was so intense, I had to take a breath before I could martial my throat into behaving like an ordinary part of a not-issue-ladened body.


    ¡°I, uh¡­¡± I tried to look at him and almost managed it. ¡°It¡¯s made my life more¡­interesting. Harder, yes. But it¡¯s been useful. I found a place because of my powers, so it¡¯s not like I¡¯d want them to go away.¡±


    Oof. That hurt. I had meant it to be cheerful¡ªI hoped it sounded cheerful; I had slapped on a smile and everything¡ªbut it also made me feel as small as a mouse. The Noctis mansion was my home because of my powers. Otherwise¡­


    I clamped down on that thought with a million-pound mental vise.


    ¡°What about your family?¡± Wuller asked.


    I shook my head more violently than I intended. ¡°My family isn¡¯t really in the picture.¡±


    ¡°Miss Cole, I¡¯m so sorry to hear that.¡±


    Oh, geez. I needed to raise the conversation out of Dismalville or I was going to burst into tears.


    I managed another smile. It nearly made my cheeks crack. ¡°No, it¡¯s fine. I have a home. I have¡­colleagues.¡± That probably didn¡¯t sound right. I motioned with my hand in some meaningless and (hopefully) distracting way. ¡°They¡¯re great people. They take good care of me. I really appreciate them, and I know it could be a lot worse.¡±


    Wuller¡¯s frown was as dramatic as his smile. ¡°I suppose we could always go back to the witch hunts.¡±


    I blinked and looked at the headmaster. ¡°Witch hunts?¡±


    ¡°The Early Modern period. People who claimed to have psychic powers or who were accused of having psychic powers were labeled witches, imprisoned, and tortured. If you were found guilty, you could be burned at the stake. In England alone over a thousand people were tried in the witch hunts. Hundreds were put to death.¡±


    Revulsion crawled through my skin like a swarm of bugs, raising goosebumps wherever they went. So much for a relaxing cup of tea.


    Wuller went on, ¡°The witch hunts, the heretical cleansings¡ªit¡¯s hard to know how many psychics have been murdered. And how many other innocent people died beside them.¡±


    ¡°But that was back in the dark ages.¡± My brow furrowed. ¡°Wasn¡¯t it?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s true. The Enlightenment brought in a welcome skepticism. Psychics were no longer tortured and killed. Instead, they were institutionalized until they could be ¡®cured of their insanity.¡¯¡±


    ¡°They put them in insane asylums?¡±


    ¡°It was considered common practice until as late as World War Two. Some psychics were lucky enough to leverage their talents and become spiritualists. They had some measure of protection. But those that couldn¡¯t, and the ones that weren¡¯t lucky enough to remain hidden, were removed from society.¡± The headmaster sighed and rubbed his eyes. ¡°Forgive me,¡± he murmured. ¡°I should be lauding your positive outlook, but it worries me when I suspect people of downplaying suffering.¡±


    ¡°Even if it¡¯s their own suffering?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a cultural habit, Miss Cole, and, I believe, part of the reason history is so bleak. When you¡¯re good at downplaying suffering, you don¡¯t have to admit how bad your crimes were.¡± He grumbled, ¡°I try to be generous to the past generations¡ªI do. It¡¯s so easy to fear and dismiss the things that you don¡¯t understand. But every time I think of how psychics were treated, it makes my blood boil.¡±


    He glanced at the sideboard, stood up, and walked over to the tea.


    As he took out the tea bags and poured in the milk, he said, ¡°I¡¯ve studied the history of psychics. I¡¯ve made myself something of an amateur scholar on it, which is why I care so much about this school.¡± His voice took on a lofty, distant quality. It sounded like he was standing in front of an imaginary room full of attentive people and I was in the back. ¡°Today psychics no longer have to fear for their lives or their freedom, but they¡¯re still bullied, belittled, mocked, and ignored. We hurt them without thinking of what it¡¯s costing them and what it¡¯s costing us. My goal is to take us one more step out of the darkness. No more fearmongering or denial.¡± He turned and handed me my mug. ¡°It¡¯s time that we acknowledged our psychics, respected them, and learned to cultivate their talents.¡±


    I hoped the invisible part of his audience appreciated the determination in his eyes as much as I did.


    I raised my mug. ¡°I¡¯ll drink to that.¡±


    Wuller smiled when he saw the gesture. We gently clinked mugs and drank.


    Oh, hey! That wasn¡¯t bad. Dark. Earthy. Not bitter at all. It didn¡¯t even need sugar to make it palatable.


    I added some anyway. On principle.

 Chapter 20 - Starbuck

    At some point, darkness stops being the absence of light and becomes its own thing¡ªan element as real as water.


    That¡¯s a perfect metaphor, I reflected, because I am absolutely swimming in the stuff.


    I wandered down the center of the hallway on the theory that it would be safer. There weren¡¯t many objects around me, but I was the kind of person that would walk, face-first, into a perfectly innocent pillar. Since I was in the center of the hall on the third floor, that meant the cathedral-style vaulted ceiling was at its peak above me. I was a fathom deep in the darkness, hoping I wouldn¡¯t run into the shadowy version of an angler fish.


    The thought had barely crossed my mind when I saw a light at the end of the hall. It bobbed up and down in the darkness¡ª


    Exactly like an angler fish! my ever-sensible brain decided to point out.


    The light was moving toward me. I stopped where I was and watched, my breath coming shallow and fast.


    The light prevented me from seeing who was behind it, but I could make out their legs and feet. Their easy gait brought them closer and closer. Hadn¡¯t they seen me?


    I stepped back.


    The light rose. I winced and put up a hand to shield my eyes.


    ¡°Miss Cole?¡±


    Thank god, the voice was familiar. And it¡¯d be hard to talk if you had big, jagged teeth sticking out everywhere.


    ¡°Sorry,¡± he said.


    The light returned to the floor. Probably-not-an-angler-fish took a few steps closer and held his phone out to the side so I could see who was behind it.


    It was Mr. Turner. He was close enough, I could see all the tiny lines of concern and confusion around the edges of his frown.


    ¡°It¡¯s past eleven,¡± he said. ¡°What are you doing here?¡±


    I don¡¯t normally think of myself as a proud person, but it turns out that the last scrap of your dignity is the hardest to part with. It hurt to admit the truth, but I was willing to do almost anything to get some help.


    ¡°Don¡¯t laugh,¡± I commanded. ¡°I¡¯m lost. I¡¯ve been trying to find my way back to my room for the last hour.¡±


    To his credit, Turner didn¡¯t laugh, and he bit the inside of his lips to try to hide his smile. ¡°Without a light?¡±


    ¡°My phone ran out of power.¡±


    I¡¯d used it to play music the entire time I¡¯d been inspecting the school. Darius had only commissioned me for my eyes, and I figured it¡¯d be impossible for me to hear anything unnerving if my ears were otherwise occupied.


    And I hadn¡¯t heard anything unnerving. No strange noises or creepy echoes¡ªnot even the person who came through at ten to clear out the halls and turn off the lights.


    ¡°Come on,¡± Turner said. ¡°I can take you. It¡¯s not far. My room is down the hall from yours.¡± He motioned with his phone and started back the way he¡¯d come.


    I followed. ¡°What are you doing out this late?¡±


    ¡°The teachers living in the school are assigned areas they¡¯re expected to walk after hours to make sure none of the boys are sneaking around.¡±


    ¡°Does it work?¡± I asked.


    He shrugged. ¡°About as well as you¡¯d expect it to. Most of the boys are smart enough to hide when they see us coming.¡± He turned his head and smiled. ¡°You¡¯re the first straggler I¡¯ve caught all year.¡±


    I blushed and looked away.


    He went on, ¡°Fortunately, you¡¯re not a student, so there won¡¯t be any paperwork.¡±


    He led me to a set of stairs I would have sworn I¡¯d never seen before in my life, and we descended. The halls looked more familiar on the second floor. When we turned the corner, I almost cried for joy. I finally knew, for sure, where I was.


    Turner pointed. ¡°You¡¯re down the hall and around the next corner. This is my stop.¡± He jerked his thumb toward the door beside us. ¡°Would you like to come in for a drink before you go?¡±


    My thoughts tried to expand enough to take in the question. Then¡ªpow! They exploded, leaving my mind blank and startled.


    ¡°A drink?¡± I said.


    ¡°God knows, I could use one,¡± he said. ¡°You¡¯re welcome to join me. Wuller, as generous as he is, probably didn¡¯t include a stocked liquor cabinet in the guest rooms.¡±


    I inspected Turner¡¯s face, hoping to read his expression. It was too relaxed and casual to be anything other than a simple, friendly invitation. I was mostly glad, but there was a tiny speck of my soul that was, maybe, a little disappointed.


    I still wasn¡¯t sure about the drinking age in England, but I was sure that I wasn¡¯t going to admit I was young enough I had to ask. Especially to the man who already had to rescue me from my own incompetence.


    ¡°Thank you,¡± I said. ¡°I¡¯d like that.¡±


    Turner¡¯s room was a copy of the one I shared with Darius and Conrad, except that it was cluttered and crowded, like a real home. Along the edges and tucked in the corners were stacks of books, a rumpled jacket, and a crate full of bulging three-ring binders. A mess of shoes lived near the back wall. His desk was larger than the one in our room, and it was covered with piles of paper. Beside the desk was a small fridge. Turner walked over to it while I checked out the posters he¡¯d stuck up on the walls.


    There was one or two historical posters¡ªfitting, considering what he taught¡ªbut the rest were all from one video game franchise.


    ¡°Assassin¡¯s Creed?¡± I said.


    He pulled out two glass bottles and shut the fridge. As he straightened up, he said, ¡°Do you play?¡±


    ¡°I never got the chance.¡±


    He popped the caps, put the bottle opener back on the fridge, wandered over, and handed me a bottle. ¡°You¡¯re missing out.¡±


    I inspected the bottle¡¯s label.


    ¡°It¡¯s cider,¡± he said. ¡°Is that all right?¡±


    Oh. Well. Cider.


    ¡°That¡¯s fine,¡± I assured him.


    He motioned to his seating arrangement. I sat on the edge of the small sofa. He took the armchair next to it.


    The moment I took a sip, my cheeks tightened and my lips twisted into the world¡¯s most ridiculous expression. I coughed and twisted the bottle around to get another look at the label.


    ¡°Okay.¡± I coughed again. ¡°It says cider.¡±


    Turner was smiling at me. ¡°Not what you expected?¡±


    I took a second sip. ¡°Is this what it¡¯s supposed to taste like?¡±


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    I could taste the apples, but they were angry apples¡ªapples that had recently lost a fight with a can of hair spray.


    Something occurred to me.


    I rubbed my forehead, which did a good job of hiding my face and preventing me from seeing Turner¡¯s amusement.


    ¡°It¡¯s hard cider,¡± I said. ¡°In America, we call it hard cider.¡±


    ¡°Implying that there¡¯s some kind of soft cider?¡±


    I dropped my hand back to my lap. ¡°Yes, sir.¡± Turner was giving me an odd look, so I explained. ¡°It¡¯s nonfermented, unfiltered apple juice. That¡¯s what we call ¡®cider.¡¯¡±


    ¡°You thought I was handing you a bottle of apple juice?¡±


    ¡°Hey! What do I know about your country¡¯s weird bottling practices!¡±


    Turner laughed as he leaned forward and held out his hand. ¡°Would you like me to take it?¡±


    I had only tried alcohol once before I was diagnosed with cancer. I had been sixteen and eager to fit in. A friend of a friend had snuck some whiskey into a party, but nothing in the world would have made me eager enough to take more than a sip of that stuff; I¡¯d have gladly sabotaged my entire social life first. Since it had only been a sip, I felt like it didn¡¯t count.


    Meaning this was my first official bottle of booze. I was not about to surrender it.


    ¡°No, no!¡± I waved away his hand. ¡°You offered. No take-backsies.¡± I took another swallow. ¡°Tell me about some of the boys you¡¯ve caught after hours.¡±


    We drank while he told me stories about all the creative things the boys would do to get in trouble. Turner was one of those expressive storytellers that are always fun to listen to. He¡¯d make faces as he spoke, and you could hear the emotions in his voice. Given the subject matter, that meant he often sounded baffled, frustrated, or irritated¡ªbut no matter what other emotion was there, I couldn¡¯t help noticing that he smiled as he spoke.


    ¡°You like being a teacher, don¡¯t you?¡± I asked.


    His next smile was more self-conscious. ¡°Uh, I do. I¡¯m one of the lucky ones.¡±


    ¡°Lucky?¡±


    ¡°When you start a job, you think you know what you¡¯re getting into. You think you¡¯re ready for it. Then you find out that nothing is like what you expected. But at least I love my job like I thought I would. I guessed right.¡±


    ¡°Do you like Setlan on Lee?¡±


    His smile wavered.


    ¡°Mostly,¡± he said. ¡°It¡¯s got a huge, old building, beautiful grounds, decent pay, and Wuller¡¯s a good headmaster.¡±


    ¡°Is he?¡±


    ¡°He mostly leaves his teachers alone¡ªwhich is ninety percent of everything I want from a headmaster. This is a good school. It has its quirks, but they all do.¡±


    When he finished, he lowered his eyes to the coffee table between us and took a long swig at his bottle.


    ¡°You¡¯re not smiling anymore,¡± I noted.


    He raised his eyes to me. He tried to look confused, and maybe a bit amused, but the tension was still there.


    ¡°Is something wrong?¡± I asked.


    His social mask slipped away. Under it was a somber expression.


    ¡°Things have gotten¡­harder¡­recently,¡± he said. ¡°It¡¯s more stressful. If things keep going the way they do, it could get a lot more stressful quickly.¡±


    ¡°How so?¡±


    ¡°Staffing problems. Wuller¡¯s always had a hard time keeping his teachers¡ªthey don¡¯t always get along with the boys¡ªbut they used to have the decency to wait until the end of the year before leaving. We¡¯ve already lost two this year. Two more are considering it.¡±


    ¡°Is it the psychic powers?¡±


    Turner shook his head, then let out a brief laugh. ¡°You may think I¡¯m crazy, but the psychic powers weren¡¯t that big of a deal. When they first appeared, we were all stunned. You know¡ªwhat is this? But then it was right there, in front of us, every day, and a week later, it was an everyday thing.¡±


    ¡°No, no,¡± I assured him with a smile. ¡°Believe me, I get it. I promise.¡±


    I thought about Iset telling me that I would get used to the weirdness. ¡°And I think you¡¯ll be surprised how little time it takes.¡±


    A well-wrapped genius. That¡¯s what she was.


    Turner went on, ¡°Whatever¡¯s happening, I don¡¯t think it¡¯s the powers. At least, it¡¯s not only the powers.¡±


    ¡°Then what is it?¡±


    Turner took a long, slow breath. ¡°I don¡¯t know. I wish I could explain it¡ªI wish I understood it. Then maybe I could do something about it.¡± He hesitated. ¡°It¡¯s almost as if some kind of tension has been growing under us. At first I only noticed it when I was alone, but now it¡¯s always there.¡± He paused to take a swig of cider. When he continued, his voice was even quieter. ¡°It¡¯s getting to the boys. They can¡¯t focus. They get frustrated too quickly¡­¡±


    His voice trailed off.


    As Turner had talked, I¡¯d become aware of a faint sense of unease, living at the edge of my perception. The moment I realized it was there, it bloomed like ink in water.


    I took a swallow to try to wash the feeling away.


    ¡°And you think it¡¯s effecting the teachers?¡± I asked.


    ¡°I think it¡¯s effecting everyone.¡± One side of Turner¡¯s mouth lifted in a smirk. He amended his statement: ¡°Everyone except Wuller.¡±


    ¡°Oh? Why does he get to be the exception?¡±


    Turner tried to look serious, but I could see the laugh lines around his eyes. ¡°This is between you and me, right?¡±


    ¡°Sure.¡±


    ¡°Wuller¡¯s a big, lovable bull.¡±


    ¡°Lovable?¡±


    By then I was three-quarters of the way through my cider, and I was pretty sure I was buzzed. Not only because of the pleasant fuzziness coating every thought, but also because of how much I was delighted by Turner¡¯s use of the word ¡°lovable.¡±


    He continued, ¡°He¡¯s got amazing focus and a lot of energy, but it can be hard to get through to him. If you want to put a new idea into his head, you have to use a hammer and chisel. He¡¯s not the kind of person who¡¯d pick up on anything subtle.¡±


    I grinned. ¡°So, not the most sensitive man.¡±


    ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°But you are?¡±


    Yup. I was definitely buzzed. When it came to teasing people I didn¡¯t know, I was normally a lot more careful. My sense of caution and my bashfulness had both been left behind in the haze.


    If it wasn¡¯t for the lousy taste, I could probably learn to like alcohol.


    The history teacher looked away to hide his shy smile. It was all cute and awkward. He leaned forward and put his empty bottle on the coffee table.


    ¡°Uh, I don¡¯t know if I¡¯m the most sensitive man.¡± He leaned back in his chair. ¡°Teaching isn¡¯t for the faint of heart. Neither is history. But I know I¡¯m more sensitive than that.¡± His smile faded. ¡°I can actually feel the tension.¡±


    ¡°What does it feel like?¡±


    Turner glanced at me out of the corner of his eye. When he saw that I was serious, he put an elbow up on the arm of the chair and his hand went to his jaw. He gazed at nothing as he considered the question.


    He was still gazing at nothing when he answered.


    ¡°It¡¯s like walking through a field full of moths. You can¡¯t move without feeling them. You¡¯re always surrounded, always being touched. And when you take a step, there¡¯s always this little crunch.¡±


    He shivered.


    When he saw me watching him, he cleared his throat and sat up in his chair.


    ¡°It¡¯s no wonder the boys are uptight,¡± he added.


    Moths. Something light. Something that should have been harmless¡ªright up until their wings brushed your bare neck on a summer night.


    ¡°Are you thinking of leaving?¡± I asked.


    At first, Turner didn¡¯t move. Then he shook his head.


    ¡°No.¡± He said louder, ¡°No, I couldn¡¯t. I¡¯ll stick it out. Things are always changing. I can wait to see what happens.¡±


    In his face I thought I could see the tension, slowly twisting him up, and the stone wall he¡¯d put his back against to keep himself standing.


    ¡°It¡¯s the boys, isn¡¯t it?¡± I said. ¡°You¡¯re staying for the students.¡±


    His shy smile was back. ¡°Yeah, I guess I am. I think we suit each other well. I teach them history, and they teach me patience.¡±


    My nose wrinkled. That always happens when I trade in a real laugh for a quieter smile.


    Turner said, ¡°You won¡¯t get that kind of a deal at one of those elite schools for the well-behaved.¡±


    ¡°You mean one of the ones the students have to test to get into?¡±


    ¡°Eightieth percentile or bust.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know if they¡¯d tolerate your jeans at a school like that.¡±


    ¡°I hadn¡¯t even thought of that.¡± Turner let out an exaggerated shudder. ¡°Well, they¡¯ve got all the good teachers they could ask for. I¡¯ll stay here.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m glad to hear it,¡± I whispered. I took one last swallow of cider and put my bottle next to his.


    ¡°You¡¯re done?¡± he asked.


    There was a fifth of a bottle left.


    ¡°I¡¯m a lightweight,¡± I said. ¡°That¡¯s about all I can handle.¡±


    I wasn¡¯t sure how true that was, but it seemed like a reasonable guess considering the way my head slow-danced as I got to my feet.


    ¡°Thank you,¡± I said.


    Turner stood to see me out. ¡°For the cider?


    ¡°For the cider. For bringing me back to familiar territory.¡± For being the kind of person who cares, I thought.


    He walked me over to the door. ¡°Can you find your way back to your room?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not that much of a lightweight.¡± I opened the door. ¡°Good night, Mr. Turner.¡±


    He reached over my head to hold it open. ¡°You¡¯re not a student. You can call me Paul.¡±


    ¡°Ha! Are you kidding? If any of the four musketeers heard me call you that, we would never hear the end of it.¡±


    ¡°Four musketeers? Ah. You mean Osborn and his crew. That¡¯s a very good point. Good night, Miss Cole.¡±


    I waved and left.


    Outside, the cloud cover had broken up. Bits of moonlight came in through the windows, lifting some of the darkness from the halls. I didn¡¯t need to worry about any pillars, innocent or otherwise.


    Being mildly intoxicated made walking feel strange. I wasn¡¯t swaying around or anything, but whenever I took a step, I had to balance my weight on my foot to ground myself. It was kind of fun, like finding your feet after you¡¯ve spent too long on a swing.


    I put my hands in my pockets and hummed as I walked.


    The humming followed me.


    I stopped and turned around. There was no one there. I stared at the shadows for a long time, searching for any hint of movement. There was nothing.


    I slowly turned back around and kept walking. This time, I didn¡¯t hum.


    The walls did.


    I put my hands out to try to steady myself, but there was nothing to hold on to. I turned in a circle, trying to find the source of the muted noise. No matter where I turned, it was always behind me. A weak tune, barely clearing closed lips. Another sound joined it¡ªa whisper that grew into a dozen whispers.


    I turned and turned.


    Someone was crying. Someone was wailing. There was the high sound of a whistle, coming from a hundred miles away.


    But there was nothing! I couldn¡¯t see anything¡ªonly the blur of the hall as I spun.


    Then, a sudden silence.


    I stopped turning and stared.


    The shadows never moved. But they weren¡¯t where they were supposed to be.


    I closed my eyes so I wouldn¡¯t see it, knelt down, then curled up on the floor. Right before I lost consciousness, I thought I felt something brush my neck.

 Chapter 21 - The Third Dream: Rules

    I hummed while I worked.


    I couldn¡¯t hear anything, but I felt my throat move through the melody. I felt my lips vibrating against the layers of tape they¡¯d put over my mouth.


    They were still there: the two figures in the doorway. Humming should have been allowed, but the only real rule was that they decided the rules. I kept my back to them and hummed quietly.


    I scrubbed the porcelain hard. The top should have been the easiest part. The only crevices and seams were around the drain and the raised lip at the edge of the table. Why had they let the mess seep in and dry?


    Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    I could worry about the sides of the table and the floor later. There were rules: top to bottom, get it back to white before you move on.


    Obey the rules.


    No talking. Don¡¯t complain. Do your work. Clean from top to bottom¡­


    But the smell of the cleaning water always made me feel faint. And my hands were so chapped afterward, it looked like they were covered in tiny white cobwebs.


    Get everything back to white before you move on.


    My rag was saturated. All I was doing was smearing the blood around. I hefted it into the bucket beside me and pretended not to notice that I needed new water. I didn¡¯t want to wait until they brought me another bucket.


    No talking.


    I wrung the cloth until the pale red drops stopped falling.


    I went back to scrubbing and hummed while I worked.

 Chapter 22 - The Nurse

    I woke up in a bed. There was no shimmering purple curtain of magic. When I turned my head, I saw Darius. He was sitting in a chair beside me. His hand was up on his forehead. I could see where he was pressing his fingers against his skull. The skin around the divots was paler than the rest.


    Impressive, considering Darius wasn¡¯t all that tan.


    ¡°Hey, Count,¡± I muttered.


    His eyes flew to my face. ¡°Emerra?¡±


    ¡°Where are we?¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re in the nurse¡¯s office. Aaron Reisig says he found you collapsed in the hall near our room last night and brought you down here.¡±


    Images from that night and my most recent nightmare crashed together. I tried to sort out the pieces. The room in my dream had two naked bulbs blazing above me; the jaundiced light had covered everything. So the shadows in the hall¡­must have been real.


    No. That wasn¡¯t possible. But they weren¡¯t a part of my dream either.


    I groaned and covered my eyes.


    ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡± Darius demanded.


    ¡°I have a headache,¡± I grumbled. ¡°Did some villain cosh me on the back of the head?¡±


    I was joking, of course. Ha-ha! Get it?


    Darius didn¡¯t seem to think it was funny.


    ¡°There were no signs of any lacerations or contusions.¡±


    ¡°You checked?¡±


    Darius turned his head slightly.


    For the first time, I realized we weren¡¯t alone. Between Darius and the arched window, there was a hunched figure of a tall, skinny man. He was sitting on a rolling stool, leaning over the counter, writing something. His dress shirt was pulled tight at all the angles¡ªhis shoulder blades, his shoulders, his elbows¡ªbut it billowed everywhere else, as if he¡¯d found a shirt that was the right length, but meant for a much fatter man. The image was reinforced by how his cracked leather belt cinched it all in at his waist. The stringy curtain of his chin-length hair hid his face from me. As he wrote, his pen would scritch, scritch, then pause, over and over again.


    Darius turned back to me. His voice was quiet. ¡°We confirmed it. Blood pressure and oxygen were normal. Your heart rate was¡­¡±


    ¡°More complicated,¡± the man said from over by the counter. He didn¡¯t turn when he spoke to us.


    Scritch, scritch. Pause.


    I looked at Darius, my brow crinkled with confusion.


    ¡°You were dreaming,¡± the count explained.


    I had no idea what was going on, but I did know that it was making me uneasy.


    ¡°Darius, is something¡ª¡±


    He cut me off. ¡°How do you feel?¡±


    How did I feel? Why didn¡¯t he ask me what happened? Or what my dream was?


    ¡°Tired,¡± I said. ¡°And I have a headache.¡±


    ¡°Anything else?¡±


    ¡°Not really.¡±


    ¡°Mr. Norris has recommended that you stay here for a few hours after you¡¯ve regained consciousness. Since we don¡¯t know why you were unconscious, he wants to monitor you.¡±


    ¡°Um, sure? I don¡¯t mind. What time is it?¡±


    ¡°Around nine in the morning. Emerra, you don¡¯t have to submit to any medical tests if you don¡¯t want to.¡±


    I forced myself to sit up. ¡°You think I don¡¯t know that?¡±


    The glint in Darius¡¯s eyes made me pause. Maybe the vampire had forgotten I¡¯d spent all those years wrapped up in the medical system¡ªor maybe, right now, he thought it was really important to remind me of that one fact.


    ¡°Okay. I understand.¡± I scooted back and leaned against the wall.


    Darius said, ¡°Can you tell me what happened to you last night?¡±


    The pen stopped mid scritch. The nurse laid it down. Then he straightened his back. Then he turned on his stool until he was facing us. Each movement was its own deliberate action.


    The nurse¡¯s face was pale and drawn, with prominent cheekbones, and the type of deep eye sockets that meant dark circles were a permanent feature. His eyes were a uniform, pale blue.


    ¡°Emerra?¡± Darius said.


    ¡°Huh?¡± I pulled my attention away from the nurse¡¯s stare.


    ¡°Can you tell me?¡±


    I noticed the odd word choice¡ªnot, ¡°what happened,¡± but, ¡°can you tell me what happened.¡±


    All my thoughts converged around the clues my brain had been tripping over, and a dim lightbulb of insight lit up the following message: Watch what you say. He¡¯s not one of us.


    Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.


    ¡°I fainted,¡± I said.


    ¡°That¡¯s all?¡±


    I nodded.


    The count rubbed his jaw. Then he looked at me. ¡°Do you want me to stay here?¡±


    I kind of did. It was nice having someone I knew beside me.


    I looked away. ¡°Nah. You¡¯ve probably been here all night. You need to get some sleep.¡±


    ¡°I can sleep later.¡±


    ¡°Then you probably have work to do, and both of those things are more important than babysitting me because I decided to take a nap on the floor.¡± I pushed down on the mattress beneath me. The cheap springs made a gloink sound. ¡°See? I¡¯m all set if the urge hits me again. The only thing that would make this better is if I had one of those fancy fainting couches. Then I could really languish.¡±


    Darius shook his head, but I glimpsed his faint, closed-lip smile.


    Thought you could be all serious at me, huh? Chalk one point up for Emerra Cole. Thank you very much.


    ¡°Oh!¡± I said, ¡°About yesterday¡ª¡±


    He patted my knee. ¡°We can talk after you¡¯ve had a few more hours to rest.¡±


    That¡¯s right. I needed to wait until we were alone to give him my full report. But at least I could show him what I got from Miller.


    My hand went to my right front pocket. It was empty. I checked the other one, then twisted around to feel my back pockets.


    ¡°What are you doing?¡± Darius asked.


    ¡°My notes!¡± I said.


    ¡°Notes?¡±


    ¡°Yeah! I actually took some. There was this piece of paper.¡± I dropped back onto the bed. ¡°And, of course, it¡¯s gone. Just my luck.¡±


    ¡°Was it important?¡±


    The strain in his voice made me stop and think. The notes were nothing but a list of things and people. If I wanted to re-create it, all I¡¯d have to do is talk to Miller again.


    ¡°Not really,¡± I admitted. ¡°But I was being all studious and efficient!¡±


    ¡°Yes, I can see that.¡±


    ¡°Easy on the sarcasm, Mr. Vasil. Not all of us have the luxury of deep suit-coat pockets.¡±


    ¡°Let¡¯s worry about it later. Rest for now.¡± He stood up. ¡°Are you sure you¡¯ll be all right?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sure.¡±


    ¡°If you need anything, call me.¡±


    ¡°My phone!¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s beside you,¡± the nurse said. ¡°Along with your headphones.¡±


    Ohhhhhkay. They had been in my pockets.


    I looked up at Darius. ¡°My phone¡¯s dead.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll get you your charger,¡± he said.


    ¡°Thank you.¡±


    The count nodded. He glanced at the nurse as he left.


    When the door closed, the nurse didn¡¯t so much stand up as unfold himself upward, one part at a time, before coming over to my bed.


    ¡°We¡¯re alone now,¡± he said. ¡°Would you like to change your story?¡±


    I leaned away from him, trying to reclaim the inch of personal space that he¡¯d invaded. ¡°What story?¡±


    A weird smile quirked up on his mouth, then disappeared. ¡°Welcome to my little corner of Bedlam. I¡¯m Christopher Norris, the nurse.¡±


    He held out his hand. It had long, thin fingers and long, cracked nails. They were clean, but it looked like he hadn¡¯t trimmed them in months.


    ¡°Emerra Cole,¡± I said. I kept the handshake as short as possible.


    ¡°Do you faint often?¡±


    ¡°Sometimes. I¡¯m anemic.¡±


    That excuse sounded both reasonable and difficult to test.


    Norris grabbed a stethoscope and an old-fashioned blood-pressure cuff off a nearby shelf. ¡°I was told that you had no underlying medical conditions that I needed to be aware of.¡±


    ¡°Darius didn¡¯t know. I never mentioned it to him.¡±


    Norris sat down on the edge of the bed and stared at me, unblinking, for an uncomfortably long time.


    ¡°Your arm,¡± he said at last.


    He sounded surprised that I couldn¡¯t figure out what he wanted just by the way he stared.


    I rolled up my right sleeve.


    As he pumped up the cuff, he said, ¡°When someone faints, they¡¯re usually only unconscious for a few seconds.¡±


    There was something wrong with the way he spoke. It was barren of emotion, and the words came out slightly burbled, unformed, as if he couldn¡¯t bother to articulate them.


    ¡°I was asleep,¡± I said.


    ¡°You were. I watched you. You were dreaming. You have very powerful dreams, don¡¯t you?¡±


    I was glad he was peering at the cuff¡¯s meter when he said that. I had no idea what my expression was, and it took a moment for me to wipe it clear.


    He released the last of the pressure and stood up. After replacing the cuff, he made a note on a clipboard. Then he sat back down and stared at me again.


    ¡°Your hand,¡± he said.


    I offered that to him with a little more reluctance.


    He clipped a pulse oximeter to my fingertip.


    ¡°Mr. Norris, did you take my phone out of my pocket?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°Did a piece of paper fall out with it?¡±


    His head bobbed, and three huffs of air escaped his nose. Was that his laugh? The hairs on my arms stood up.


    ¡°There were no papers in any of your pockets,¡± he said. ¡°It must have dropped out somewhere else.¡± He removed the oximeter, made another note, and walked over to the middle cupboard above the counter. ¡°Your traveling companions don¡¯t seem to like me.¡±


    ¡°Darius tends to be cautious.¡±


    ¡°And the other one? The wolfman?¡±


    ¡°Conrad was here?¡±


    ¡°He was the first one who came down.¡± There was another three-huff laugh. ¡°I honestly thought he was going to rip my arms off.¡±


    ¡°Why? What were you doing?¡±


    Norris paused and turned. ¡°I was checking you for injury. That¡¯s what we have to do when a patient shows up inexplicably unconscious.¡± He went back to rummaging through the cupboard. ¡°The wolfman used his phone to call Mr. Vasil, who must have been right outside my door for how quickly he showed up.¡±


    The nurse pulled down a bottle and popped the cap.


    ¡°Is the wolfman a friend of yours, Miss Cole?¡±


    My head whirled at the unexpected question. ¡°I like Conrad. Why?¡±


    Norris returned to the bed with two small plastic cups. One held water. The other held two pills.


    ¡°What¡¯s this?¡± I asked as he poured the pills into my hand.


    He handed me the water. ¡°A painkiller. For your headache.¡±


    ¡°Oh. Cheers.¡± I swallowed them both.


    ¡°It also contains diphenhydramine, to help you sleep.¡±


    I paused with the water still on my lips, but since the pills were already halfway down my gullet, there didn¡¯t seem to be much I could do. I finished drinking.


    ¡°Did you do that on purpose?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Do what?¡±


    ¡°Never mind.¡± I handed him the cup.


    He put it on the shelf next to the other one and pulled out a small flashlight. He sat down on the edge of the bed again. ¡°Please look at my ear.¡±


    ¡°Either one?¡±


    ¡°Either one.¡±


    When he took my chin in his hand, I jerked back.


    ¡°Are my hands cold?¡± he asked.


    ¡°If you want me to lean forward you can just tell me to!¡±


    ¡°Please turn your head a bit. Side to side. Yes. Like that.¡±


    He lowered and raised his flashlight several times before turning it off. He tucked it in his pocket as he stood up.


    I pressed my fingers over my closed eyes, trying to coax some moisture back into them. I was starting to feel woozy. The pills must have been working fast on my empty stomach.


    ¡°Do you collect things?¡± Norris asked.


    ¡°I guess?¡± I lowered my hand. ¡°I kind of collect music.¡±


    ¡°Music. Interesting. I collect weirdness¡ªthe bizarre.¡±


    I blinked and looked up at him. This time it was my turn to stare.


    His strange smile appeared and disappeared again. He leaned toward me. ¡°That¡¯s why I work here.¡± He straightened up. ¡°In all my life, I have never seen eyes like yours.¡±


    My heart started hammering in my chest. I struggled to keep my breathing slow.


    My eyes.


    I had let him inspect my eyes.


    He went on, indifferent, ¡°Of course, it makes it impossible to tell how dilated your pupils may or may not be, but all your other vital signs are within the normal range, and you did regain consciousness. May I take a picture of them?¡±


    It took me a second to answer. ¡°I¡¯m not comfortable with that, Mr. Norris.¡±


    ¡°What if I promise I won¡¯t show anyone else?¡±


    ¡°No!¡±


    ¡°I understand.¡± He went back to his stool. ¡°You should lay down again, Miss Cole. Fainting like that must have been scary, but don¡¯t worry, I¡¯ll be monitoring you while you sleep. You can rest easy.¡±


    That was certainly his opinion.


    I mushed up the cheap pillow until I could comfortably lay on my side, facing Christopher Norris. I wanted to see if he was coming at me with a camera. Or anything else, for that matter.


    It didn¡¯t work. I was asleep before Darius returned with my charging cord.

 Chapter 23 - The Knights Rescue

    During lunch, the four musketeers launched an invasion to breach the dreaded nurse¡¯s office.


    They found me gathering up my phone and charging cord.


    Scott latched on to my arm and whispered, loudly, because the boy was incapable of anything resembling actual stealth, ¡°Wes and Eric will jump him. You get ready to run!¡±


    ¡°What are you talking about?¡± I said through my laughter.


    Norris said without looking up from his notes, ¡°Good afternoon, Mr. Shipp. Can I help you with something?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s too late!¡± Scott lamented. ¡°Throw Dustin behind us. Every man for himself!¡±


    Wes announced, ¡°We¡¯re here to visit Miss Cole.¡±


    ¡°All four of you?¡± Norris asked.


    Eric crossed his arms. ¡°When does she get to leave?¡±


    ¡°Miss Cole was already getting ready to leave.¡±


    ¡°Wait. You mean you¡¯re letting her go?¡± Scott said.


    Norris folded his hands over his notes and stared at the five of us.


    The silence was only broken when Dustin said, ¡°Come on then.¡±


    As we walked toward the door, Wes touched my elbow. ¡°Are you all right, Emerra?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m fine guys. I promise.¡±


    When the door closed behind us, Scott released a full-body shiver that was big enough it could be called a spasm. His feet danced in place. ¡°Man, that guy gives me the creeps.¡±


    Wes and Eric murmured their agreement. Even Dustin nodded.


    Yes, the poor guy had a few creepy mannerisms¡ªokay, a lot of creepy mannerisms. And hobbies. And did he have to stare that much?¡ªbut I tried to give him the benefit of the doubt.


    ¡°You really didn¡¯t think he¡¯d let me go?¡± I asked.


    ¡°You hear stories,¡± Scott said.


    ¡°From who?¡± I tried to hide my amusement.


    ¡°Older students. They get passed down from year to year,¡± Eric said. ¡°He¡¯s been here since the school was founded. You can see him in the staff photo.¡±


    ¡°He likes to watch people,¡± Scott whispered.


    Wes added, ¡°He calls it ¡®monitoring their condition.¡¯¡±


    ¡°Or maybe,¡± I proposed, ¡°he¡¯s a careful nurse.¡±


    None of the boys thought much of that idea.


    The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    ¡°He gets bored,¡± Dustin explained.


    ¡°Is it any wonder?¡± Eric said. ¡°If I sawed off my arm, I¡¯d tie the tourniquet with my own teeth before I¡¯d go to him.¡±


    ¡°What happened, Emerra?¡± Wes asked. ¡°You weren¡¯t at breakfast. We couldn¡¯t find the wolfman or Lord Fancy-suit either.¡±


    I knew Darius would want me to correct him.


    ¡°It¡¯s Count von Fancy-suit.¡±


    ¡°We asked Mr. Turner if he knew anything. He gave Dustin permission to try to find you.¡±


    We all looked at Dustin.


    He shrugged. ¡°I have the best grades.¡±


    Scott leapt in to add to the story. ¡°So Dustin finds the wolfman¡ª¡±


    ¡°Conrad,¡± I said.


    ¡°Yeah. Him. And howler-boy said that you were in the nurse¡¯s office. He wouldn¡¯t tell us anything else! I call that unhelpful.¡±


    Dustin tried to soothe his friend. ¡°I don¡¯t think he knew any more than that.¡±


    Wes jammed his hands in his pockets. ¡°He could have told us what was wrong.¡±


    I was still watching Dustin. ¡°You walked up and talked to Conrad?¡±


    ¡°Yeah.¡± He hesitated. ¡°Why?¡±


    I shook my head and smiled. ¡°No reason.¡±


    ¡°So,¡± Scott wailed, ¡°what happened?¡±


    I studied the ground as we walked. ¡°I, uh¡­I fainted.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡± Eric asked.


    ¡°You¡¯ve got me,¡± I admitted. ¡°Reisig found me while he was doing his rounds and brought me to Norris. I guess the teachers don¡¯t have the same reverence for Norris that the students do. I normally sleep like crap, so I crashed out for a few hours, and woke up fine. It¡¯s not a big deal.¡±


    ¡°If Reisig was doing his rounds,¡± Eric said, ¡°that means you were up after hours.¡±


    I gazed at him, feeling slightly betrayed.


    Eric met my gaze without flinching. ¡°What were you doing up that late?¡±


    ¡°Were you searching the school?¡± Wes asked.


    Geez. There was only supposed to be one smart one. They weren¡¯t supposed to gang up on me.


    I sighed. ¡°Yes, I was searching the school.¡±


    ¡°At night?¡± Scott said.


    ¡°By yourself?¡± Eric said.


    It was Dustin¡¯s turn: ¡°And you fainted?¡±


    I ran each of their statements through my head. There was something like the truth in them. You had to split it up a bit, but it spared me from having to mention that I¡¯d had a drink with Turner, and that I was only out that late because I was lost.


    ¡°Yes,¡± I said.


    ¡°Why didn¡¯t you take us?¡± Wes demanded.


    I looked at each of their stern, young faces, and burst out laughing.


    ¡°What¡¯s with all these knights in shining armor?¡± I said. ¡°I know it¡¯s not because you¡¯re English¡ª¡±


    ¡°Some of us aren¡¯t English,¡± Dustin reminded me.


    ¡°And Conrad and Darius do it too. Is it a guy thing?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± they chorused¡ªeven Scott, who must have been the world¡¯s most adorable warrior.


    I checked myself. Throw some face-paint on him, Scott would be an amazing berserker.


    ¡°Hey, guys,¡± I whispered conspiratorially, ¡°I hate to break this to you, but I¡¯m not a princess. I¡¯ll have to check a dictionary,¡± I put a hand on my chest, ¡°but I don¡¯t think I¡¯m even a damsel.¡±


    ¡°Yon fair maiden in distress!¡± Scott shouted.


    Eric had a much less flattering take on it. ¡°You¡¯re the one that fainted.¡±


    He had me there. That was a bit embarrassing. At least I had a trump card in reserve.


    ¡°I couldn¡¯t take you with me. I was out after hours, remember?¡±


    ¡°This is Thursday,¡± Wes said. ¡°We have fourth period free. We can help you look around then.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t you have homework you have to catch up on?¡±


    His entire defense was to smile at me. I rolled my eyes.


    It was a tempting offer. No matter how brave I was acting, no matter how cheerful I tried to sound, the idea of being alone in the building scared me. The boys already knew I was searching the school to try to figure out what was going on, so it wouldn¡¯t seem weird to them if I went poking through all the closets and opening cupboard doors.


    ¡°Don¡¯t expect too much,¡± I warned them.


    Scott threw his fist up in triumph.


    I continued, ¡°What I¡¯m doing lacks both glamour and excitement, and I¡¯ve already finished most of the main building.¡±


    Wes scoffed. ¡°Maybe according to your map.¡±


    ¡°Huh?¡±


    The boys looked at each other to confirm that I was the only person excluded from the joke.


    Wes said, ¡°That map Miller gave you for the school¡ªonly half of the top floor was marked, right?¡±


    ¡°Yeah. The rest of the rooms were empty or being used for storage.¡±


    ¡°Right. The map only shows the parts of the school that are being used. It¡¯s to help the students get around.¡±


    ¡°Okay. And?¡±


    ¡°Do you want to guess what other part of the school isn¡¯t being used right now?¡±


    When I didn¡¯t say anything, Wes offered me the answer.


    ¡°The basements.¡±

 Chapter 24 - Whispered Conversation

    Darius and Conrad were standing near the outside wall of the main wing on the second floor. There was a patch of weak sunlight beside them, streaming in from the nearby window, but they stayed in the shadows. They stood close together, and when the wolfman spoke, he only raised his voice enough to articulate the words.


    ¡°I found the bottles.¡±


    ¡°Did you break in?¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t have to. The key to our room worked with his.¡±


    The vampire frowned, but he nodded for Conrad to go on.


    ¡°Two hard ciders¡ªthat¡¯s it. Her scent was only on one of them. It wouldn¡¯t have been enough to make her tipsy.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re forgetting how light she is.¡±


    ¡°She didn¡¯t even finish it.¡±


    ¡°So it wouldn¡¯t have done more than make her tipsy. Did you smell anything in the bottle?¡±


    ¡°Nothing. The teacher¡ªTurner¡ªhandled it twice, but not for long. I tried some of it.¡±


    Darius glared at the wolfman.


    Conrad ignored the wordless rebuke. ¡°It wasn¡¯t drugged, Darius. It was just cider.¡±


    The count rubbed his lips with the edge of his thumb.


    Conrad knew Darius was thinking, so he tried to stay quiet, but his ears kept twitching back toward his head. He buried his hands in the pockets of his jeans.


    ¡°Darius, did Emerra mention that she¡¯d been drinking?¡±


    Darius responded without thinking. ¡°You told me you smelled it on her.¡±


    ¡°No, that¡¯s not¡ª¡± The wolfman¡¯s ears dipped again. ¡°I meant, did she try to hide it?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not illegal, Conrad. And she didn¡¯t have the chance to tell me.¡± The vampire¡¯s hand fell back to his side, but he kept his eyes fixed on the ground as he asked, ¡°Did you track her in the room?¡±


    Silence.


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    Darius raised his eyes to the wolfman.


    ¡°She stayed in one place on the couch the whole time,¡± Conrad said. ¡°Turner was in the armchair.¡±


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    The count¡¯s breath escaped as a relieved sigh. ¡°He finds her on the third floor and invites her in for a drink. She leaves, and she should be fine. Did Turner follow her?¡±


    ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°Was there any one else in the hall?¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t be sure.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a busy hall. The scents get mixed up. Once a scent is covered, it¡¯s harder to gauge times.¡±


    ¡°Give me your best guess.¡±


    Conrad ran a hand over his head, briefly flattening his right ear. ¡°Reisig was there. He¡¯s the only one I¡¯m certain of. I don¡¯t think there was anyone else.¡±


    ¡°Reisig was the one who found her.¡±


    ¡°I followed his trail back. As far as I can tell, he was doing his rounds, like he said.¡±


    Darius murmured, ¡°And there were no signs of injury.¡±


    Conrad waited.


    ¡°What do you think?¡± Darius asked.


    ¡°I think that if she ever finds out we were sniffing around her private life, she¡¯s going to be fucking pissed.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not like we had much choice, Mr. Bauer.¡±


    The wolfman scowled and looked away.


    The phone in Darius¡¯s pocket dinged. He pulled it out, glanced at it, and replaced it. ¡°I have to go. Reisig and Wuller are expecting me. We¡¯ll meet up with Emerra at dinner and get the rest of her story.¡±


    ¡°She doesn¡¯t eat with us,¡± Conrad grumbled.


    ¡°I meant after dinner. It¡¯s not like she could give us a frank report with Wuller nearby.¡± The count started to walk away, but he stopped after only a step. He stood there, hesitating.


    ¡°Conrad, will you keep an eye on her?¡±


    There was another brief silence.


    ¡°I¡¯ll see what I can do.¡±


    ¡°Thank you.¡±


    The two parted ways.


    Darius was halfway down the hall when someone called his name. Alex Miller finished climbing the stairs and came down the hall toward him.


    ¡°Good afternoon, Mr. Miller,¡± Darius said. He turned to give the greeting, but he continued walking. ¡°Is Wuller looking for me?¡±


    Miller let out an awkward laugh as he caught up. ¡°Uh, I¡¯m not sure. He didn¡¯t send me.¡±


    ¡°Oh?¡±


    ¡°I was wondering if you knew where Miss Cole was.¡±


    Darius stopped and turned to face the assistant. Miller stopped as well. He squirmed under the vampire¡¯s gaze.


    ¡°Only, I¡­I¡¯d heard, uh, that she was unwell,¡± Miller stammered. ¡°But when I went to the nurse¡¯s office¡ª¡±


    ¡°Why did you want to see her?¡±


    ¡°Oh!¡± The young man¡¯s cheeks went pink. He held out a piece of paper with a stiff arm. ¡°I found her notes, and I thought I¡¯d return them to her.¡±


    Darius glanced at the paper. It was folded in quarters, but there was a network of wrinkles that showed, at one time, it had been wadded up.


    ¡°How did you know they were hers?¡± he asked.


    ¡°I was with her when she made them, sir.¡±


    ¡°These are the notes from her conversation with you?¡±


    Miller nodded.


    The vampire snatched them from Miller, slow enough it wouldn¡¯t look suspicious, but fast enough the young man wouldn¡¯t be able to prevent it.


    He motioned to Miller with the paper. ¡°Thank you. That was considerate of you. I¡¯ll be sure that she gets them.¡±


    Miller blinked and lowered his hand. ¡°Ah. Um. Yes, but¡ª¡±


    It was a cruel thing to do, and Darius felt himself to be every inch a bastard.


    He feigned surprise. ¡°Oh, did you want to give them to her yourself?¡±


    Miller blushed again. ¡°No. That¡¯s¡ªno, that¡¯ll¡­be fine. I have work to do. Thank you, Mr. Vasil.¡±


    The assistant headed back to the stairwell. When Darius called his name, he stopped and looked over his shoulder.


    The vampire said, ¡°Do you happen to remember where you found this?¡±


    ¡°It was on the ground floor. Near the south wing.¡±


    ¡°Thank you.¡±


    Miller went down the stairs.


    Darius needed to hurry, he was already late meeting Wuller, but as he walked, he tried to read Emerra¡¯s nearly illegible writing. A part of his mind wondered how anyone who was printing could have handwriting that bad, but the rest of it was occupied with the question of how the notes could have gotten all the way to the south wing on the ground floor.

 Chapter 25 - The Basement

    I should have known the boys were up to something based on how Scott grinned when he saw me come in to the great hall. There was also the moment when Eric hung back as we left. It looked like he was looking around, but when I asked him what he was doing, he said ¡°nothing.¡±


    They led me through the maze of their school, then stopped at the end of a short hall I¡¯d never seen before. At the back of the stubby hall was a door set in the middle of the wall. The bright yellow tape running across it three times was about head high so you could easily read the words ¡°CAUTION¡± and ¡°DO NOT ENTER¡± that were printed on it.


    I groaned and put a hand to my head.


    ¡°You¡¯re all going to get expelled,¡± I said. ¡°You¡¯re going to get expelled, and it¡¯ll be my fault.¡±


    ¡°Nah,¡± Wes said. ¡°No one ever comes down here.¡±


    ¡°How do you know?¡±


    ¡°¡¯Cause we¡¯ve done this before.¡±


    ¡°Why does that not surprise me?¡±


    Scott gestured to the tape. ¡°With bait like that, what do they expect?¡±


    I turned to Eric. ¡°Is it dangerous?¡±


    ¡°Not really,¡± he said. ¡°It¡¯s pretty shabby, but I¡¯ve been in worse places. If you¡¯re careful, you should be fine.¡±


    ¡°Dustin?¡± Wes said.


    Dustin had been peering behind us, to where the short hall met the longer hall. When he heard his name, he looked back.


    ¡°Huh?¡±


    ¡°You see something?¡± Wes asked.


    Dustin shook his head.


    ¡°Any teachers?¡±


    ¡°No.¡±


    Wes reached out and grabbed the handle. ¡°Here we go.¡±


    The tarnished brass knob squeaked as he turned it.


    ¡°It¡¯s unlocked,¡± I noted.


    ¡°The lock¡¯s broken,¡± Eric said.


    I turned to him.


    ¡°Don¡¯t look at me like that,¡± he said. ¡°It was like that when we found it. There¡¯s something jammed in it.¡±


    I wondered how many students had already discovered that fact. And how many teachers.


    We ducked under the tape and went inside.


    The hall continued beyond the door. Further in there were two more doors¡ªone on the right and one on the left. A yard later, where the last of the hall light fell, the floor dropped away as a descending staircase. I could only see the first two steps before they were swallowed by the darkness.


    ¡°What are these?¡± I asked, stopping in front of one of the doors.


    Wes said, ¡°As far as we can tell, they¡¯re old offices.¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s some old-timey desks and empty file cabinets,¡± Scott added.


    ¡°I have to look around guys,¡± I said.


    Scott grunted. ¡°It¡¯s your investigation.¡±


    ¡°Do you have a torch?¡± Eric asked.


    ¡°Um.¡± I pointed to the overhead light shining down on us.


    ¡°Not all of the lightbulbs work.¡±


    The boys took turns holding my phone up as a flashlight while I searched the two rooms. The dust was thick enough, you could see where various explorers had disturbed it. There was no magic or any strange items hidden in a forgotten corner, but the longer I was there, the more the fossilized atmosphere got to me.


    The desks were old and cheap, but not old enough to belong to the original manor house. The style was wrong. They were too industrial, and they sat perfectly square to the room. Someone had brought them in, set them down, and no one had moved them since. It felt like the desks were waiting¡ªas if the rooms were waiting. A task had been interrupted, and at any moment, someone would walk in and resume working. If I turned around, who would I see coming in the door?


    I jumped when I felt a hand on my arm.


    ¡°Are you all right, Emerra?¡±


    It was Dustin. He was the one on flashlight duty.


    I took a breath and turned back to the empty desk. ¡°Yeah. It just seems weird to me. How long do you think that wall out in the hall has been there? The one with the door in it.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± he said. ¡°If this is below stairs, it could be original.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re still on the ground floor.¡±


    ¡°Below stairs¡ªwhere the servants worked. These might have been the housekeeper¡¯s or butler¡¯s rooms. The door would have been the divide between the working area and the main house.¡±


    I shook my head. After another second of gazing at the desk, I said, ¡°Dustin, would you put an office behind two closed doors?¡±


    ¡°I guess it depends on whose office it was.¡±


    I turned. ¡°Let¡¯s go.¡±


    He handed me my phone as I passed him.


    I heard the other three goofing around in the hall, but by the time I got there, they were all waiting quietly for me. Scott looked suspiciously innocent. I pretended not to notice the newly drawn doodle of a male appendage on the wall.


    ¡°Ready?¡± I said.


    Wes said, ¡°Whenever you are.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll go first,¡± Eric offered.


    ¡°Why?¡± I asked.


    ¡°The stairs aren¡¯t that great. Watch your step. I¡¯ll warn you if there¡¯s a problem.¡±


    I held my phone up high so Eric could have some light, and I held onto the railing with my other hand. Years of use had worn the wooden rail to a smooth finish. Neglect had added the matte coating of grime.


    ¡°Look out for this step,¡± Eric said.


    When I put my foot down on the stair, it sunk into the carpet, as if something had degraded the wood underneath it.


    ¡°There¡¯s a few more like that,¡± Eric said.


    With each step down, the air grew colder. A soft scent teased my nose, but it was too subtle for me to tell what it was or where it was coming from. When we reached the bottom of the stairs, I searched the wall nearby for anything that looked like a light switch. There was a brass toggle. I flicked it up. A light at the far end of the room went on, sputtered, and died, giving us a glimpse of the area.


    The room was roughly sixteen feet wide, and all of the walls were punctuated by doors. There were five evenly spaced doors on the wall to my left. To my right, there were two. There was only one door on the far wall, near the right corner. Near that door, bits of cracked ceiling had fallen, revealing the wooden ribs of the floor above and dusting the ground with plaster. Around the decay, covering the walls and ceiling, were clouds of brown-yellow water damage, flecked with mold. Dips in the carpet suggested more rotted flooring. Furniture was stacked along the wall at the back of the room, almost blocking off the fifth door on the left.


    You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.


    The one second of light had cast a mess of shadows off the furniture. My hand tightened around my phone.


    I raised my light and glared at the shadows, daring them to be anything other than perfectly normal.


    ¡°Emerra?¡± Dustin said.


    I moved my phone from side to side and watched the shadows humbly slide across the floor as directed.


    ¡°Did you see something?¡± Wes asked.


    ¡°No.¡± I took a breath. ¡°We¡¯re good.¡±


    ¡°If, by good, you mean we¡¯re stuck with only one light source,¡± Scott pointed out.


    ¡°Two,¡± Wes said. He held up his hand and lit it on fire.


    ¡°Would you push that switch back down for me.¡± I motioned to the toggle behind them. ¡°I don¡¯t trust the wiring in this place.¡±


    Eric leaned back and flipped the switch.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t expect it to be so big,¡± I said.


    ¡°Where to, fair maiden?¡± Scott asked.


    I debated asking which rooms were the least scary, but if they were already calling me ¡°fair maiden,¡± I didn¡¯t want to give them any more ammunition.


    I motioned to the first door on my right.


    Wes led us over and pulled the door open toward us. ¡°Watch your step.¡±


    His warning came a nanosecond too late. I stumbled over the step that was immediately inside the door but caught myself on the frame.


    ¡°What the heck is that?¡± I kicked at the obtrusion. ¡°Who puts a step in the middle of a doorway?¡±


    ¡°Maybe they needed to level the floor,¡± Wes suggested.


    ¡°By four inches?¡±


    He shrugged.


    ¡°Spare me from amateur home improvement projects,¡± I grumbled as I went inside.


    I wandered into the center of the room and slowly turned around. Nothing. It was only a large, rectangular room.


    But as my eyes moved over the blank walls, a faint pressure in my chest grew until the intensity of it made me stagger. The room started swimming around me.


    I put my free hand on my thigh and leaned over, closing my eyes. The moment my eyes were closed, I noticed my breathing. I was taking in quick jerks of air, one after another. The sound of my panting almost drowned out my thudding heart.


    What¡¯s going on?


    I opened my eyes again. No good. The lines on the flooring swirled. It made me dizzy to watch. A flow of nausea swept into my stomach.


    ¡°Oh, god,¡± I whispered.


    Before I could close my eyes again, I saw someone move toward me. I lurched away, my heart buzzing even faster.


    It¡¯s only Wes, I told myself.


    Wes. The boys. They were watching me. They were going to see me freaking out.


    Tears started falling. I could feel them rolling down my face and dripping from my jaw¡ªfeel them like my skin was laced with nerves. My hand slid down to my knee; I could feel the texture of my jeans.


    What¡¯s happening? I screamed in my head.


    The only sound that escaped my throat was a moan.


    My phone dropped out of my hand. I felt that too. I didn¡¯t hear it hit the floor. All I could hear were the thick murmurings which must have been my knights in shining armor, calling my name, trying to get me to talk to them, and a dull ringing sound that was growing louder and higher in pitch as eternity after eternity passed.


    I lowered myself to my knees so I wouldn¡¯t fall. Moving was hard. Every muscle in my body was clenched with tension, and I couldn¡¯t stop trembling. It felt like someone was tightening an iron band around my ribs. My eyes fluttered between open and shut. I couldn¡¯t focus on anything, and the sides of my vision were being eaten away by white fuzz.


    My mouth formed the words¡ªI don¡¯t know if I even said them¡ª¡°I can¡¯t breathe.¡±


    Two terrors had been winding their way through me. The first was the soul-breaking terror that came from not knowing what was going on. Now the second had a name.


    I tried to yell. It might have come out as a whisper. ¡°I can¡¯t breathe.¡±


    The saner part of me could feel my lungs heaving faster and faster, but the knowledge was powerless to touch my fear.


    I¡¯m going to die again.


    More tears.


    I felt a rough hand and a tickle of fur on my cheek. That smell. I knew that smell. A deep voice oozed through the ringing sounds to reach me.


    ¡°Mera!¡±


    ¡°Conrad,¡± I gasped. ¡°Conrad, I can¡¯t breathe! I¡¯m drowning!¡±


    Conrad put his arms under me. He stood up, dead-lifting me to his chest.


    ¡°Pick up her phone,¡± he said.


    Wes dodged in to grab it.


    The wolfman looked at Dustin. ¡°Where¡¯s the nearest door to the outside?¡±


    ¡°This way,¡± Dustin said.


    Dustin and Wes went ahead to light the way. Conrad followed them. I felt the change in his stride as he took the stairs two at a time. I pressed my eyes shut and tried to focus on breathing.


    It didn¡¯t help.


    ¡°Conrad,¡± I murmured.


    ¡°We¡¯re almost outside,¡± he said.


    A few seconds later, Dustin said, ¡°There. That one leads to the grounds.¡±


    I heard the crack and groan of a door being opened. Conrad didn¡¯t stop, and his pace never changed.


    The moment we were outside, the touch of the cold air on my face, in my nose, in my mouth, made my heart swell with a desperate hope.


    Air.


    I gasped it in, crying now because of how relieved I felt.


    Oh, god, it feels so good.


    Conrad stopped when we were out of the shadow of the building. It only felt a few degrees warmer in the feeble sunlight, but I was glad for it. He lowered me to the ground and pulled his arms away. I could feel the prickle of grass on my hands, the side of my face, and poking through the sleeves of my hoodie. The touch of the grass and the press of the ground against my side were blessedly solid sensations¡ªsomething to lean on while the clamor in my head slowed and died.


    Conrad was still crouched beside me. He ran the back of his fingers over my back.


    ¡°Take your time,¡± he muttered. ¡°You¡¯ve got this. There¡¯s no water around here. We¡¯ve got you air, some grass, and as much sunshine as you can get in this damn country.¡±


    My hysterical giggle blended in with my sob. I gripped the grass under my hand and drank in the smell of it.


    Conrad went quiet and his hand left my back.


    Several shadows moved along the grass nearby.


    ¡°What happened?¡± Wes asked.


    I should sit up, I told myself. I should answer.


    I was too tired to do either. All I wanted to do was lay there and breathe until my chest stopped hurting.


    ¡°She had a panic attack,¡± Conrad said.


    ¡°Has it happened before?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s something you ask her.¡±


    I knew Conrad had said that to respect my privacy, but my psyche winced.


    Wes said, ¡°Is that why she fainted?¡±


    ¡°What part of ¡®it¡¯s not your business¡¯ is giving you trouble?¡±


    Conrad hadn¡¯t raised his voice, and his tone was mellow, but the blunt answer seemed to hang in the air.


    I turned my head so I could look at Wes. His face was red.


    ¡°How did you know what to do?¡± Scott¡¯s voice was full of wonder.


    ¡°How did you know where to find us?¡± Eric demanded.


    Conrad was still facing me. I saw his ears creep to a flatter position.


    Screw being a fair maiden! Now was not a good moment to be helpless. I gulped a few times in yet another attempt to get my breathing under control. And the heart rate¡ªthat needed to slow down. A lot.


    ¡°Eric¡ª¡± Scott whispered.


    ¡°No.¡± Eric¡¯s hands shook as he crossed his arms. ¡°Answer the question, wolfman. How did you find us?¡±


    Conrad stood up and turned. Eric¡¯s foot scooted back a few inches, but he stayed in line next to Wes and Dustin.


    ¡°My name is Conrad,¡± he growled.


    ¡°You were following us,¡± Dustin said.


    The wolfman¡¯s ears flattened further.


    Wes raised his voice. ¡°Were you following us or following her?¡±


    Don¡¯t, you idiot! I thought as loud as I could.


    Scott stepped closer to the group. ¡°You were following¡ªdoes she know that you were following her?¡± He took his place next to Wes. ¡°Hero or not, that¡¯s messed up.¡±


    Great. Leave it to the four musketeers to slam a wedge into my already tenuous relationship.


    Conrad stood facing them, legs apart, arms crossed, motionless. I could see the musketeers'' faces, and each one was set in some expression of anger or defiance.


    ¡°Are you going to ignore that question too, wolfman?¡± Eric asked.


    And that musketeer had a death wish. I struggled to push myself up. If only I could stop shaking!


    Conrad¡¯s shoulders tensed. ¡°You need to learn how to pick your fights, boy.¡±


    ¡°Conrad!¡± I shouted.


    The wolfman turned to me. I was still breathing hard, but at least I could make myself heard.


    ¡°Please,¡± I gasped. ¡°Just leave them alone.¡±


    For a split second, Conrad frowned and his ears dipped back until they almost touched his head, then he suddenly turned, hissed out a stream of air, half-huff, half-snarl, and stalked away.


    We watched him go.


    Then I rounded on the boys.


    ¡°Eric!¡±


    All four of them came toward me. When Eric was close enough, I latched on to his wrist and yanked him to the ground.


    ¡°Ow!¡±


    My face was only a few inches away from his. I glared right into his eyes. I watched them widen as he focused on me.


    ¡°No picking on Conrad!¡± I ordered.


    ¡°Picking on him!¡±


    I let go of his wrist and shoved his arm.


    ¡°Hey!¡± he said.


    ¡°Turn around,¡± I said.


    ¡°But¡ª¡±


    ¡°I want to sit up. I need something to lean against. Please.¡±


    With a troubled scowl, Eric turned and sat cross-legged on the grass. I scooted until I could sit with my back pressed up against his and my knees in the air. I let my head drop back on his shoulder and stared at the cloudy sky.


    Eric said, ¡°He was following you.¡±


    Wes sat down beside us. Scott flopped on his back with no regard for his white dress shirt.


    I knew that Wes, Scott, and Dustin were all watching me, but I couldn¡¯t bring myself to look at any of them.


    ¡°Yeah,¡± I said. ¡°I get that.¡±


    Wes said, ¡°Did you know he was following you?¡±


    A laugh burbled out from my mouth. ¡°Sorry. I can¡¯t stop trembling. It¡¯s so stupid.¡± I pressed my hands against my eyes to stop myself from crying again. Shame welled up through my body. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, guys. You shouldn¡¯t have had to deal with that.¡±


    Dustin sat down next to me, turned, and leaned back to help take some of the weight off Eric. When Wes saw what he was doing, he made himself the third support.


    ¡°We don¡¯t mind,¡± Dustin said.


    ¡°Although it did scare the shit out of us at the time,¡± Scott admitted. He tore up a handful of grass, held it above his head, and let it dribble toward his face.


    I giggled. The relief from having passed through the flood of emotions made me giddy. Yes, there was still shame, anxiety, and a displaced sense of sadness¡ªbut none of it¡ªnone of it¡ªcould compare with what had gripped me before.


    ¡°Yeah,¡± I said. ¡°It scared me too.¡±


    ¡°Are you going to be okay?¡± Wes asked.


    ¡°It may take a while, but I should be fine.¡±


    ¡°Emerra,¡± Eric said, ¡°did you know he was following you?¡±


    I conked my head against his. ¡°Hey! I said no picking on Conrad! It¡¯s not his fault. And the wolfman is right, Mr. Reed¡ªyou really need to learn how to pick your fights.¡±


    ¡°Psssssh,¡± Scott said. ¡°What are you talking about? You think we couldn¡¯t take the guy just because he could bench press all of us with one arm? Our man Eric could have totally held his own for at least one second.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry, Eric,¡± Wes said, ¡°I¡¯d have your back.¡±


    ¡°I know you would, Wes.¡±


    There was a moment of silence.


    ¡°Well, that¡¯s two seconds taken care of,¡± Dustin said.


    Wes laughed first. The rest of us joined in.

 Chapter 26 - Emerras Report

    Conrad wasn¡¯t at dinner. I kept glancing up at his empty seat at the head table and wondering if he was okay. Not that it was any of my business. I mean, he¡¯s his own man and all that¡ª


    Was that why he didn¡¯t like hanging out with me? Was I too naggy?


    But I knew he ate a lot, and it wasn¡¯t like he could go out to the local convenience store. What was he going to eat?


    I was also worried because I didn¡¯t have a ton of courage, and I had mustered it all to act on my brilliant plan to confront him.


    The Plan: I would walk up to Conrad after dinner and stand there until the crushing weight of the awkward silence forced me to say something.


    We¡¯ll be real¡ªit would probably be something stupid, but saying something stupid struck me as a marked improvement over not saying anything at all.


    But the target of my stupidity wasn¡¯t there, and my courage was waning.


    Darius came to me after dinner. He caught me while I was alone by the tray drop-off.


    ¡°Emerra, there¡¯s some things we need to discuss back in the room.¡±


    Oh. Right. Like my whole report. I had completely spaced it.


    ¡°Sure,¡± I said. ¡°I¡¯ll meet you there.¡±


    ¡°How long will you be?¡±


    Let¡¯s see, two minutes to talk to the boys. Five minutes to get to the room. Ten minutes in case I got lost.


    ¡°Like, seventeen minutes?¡± I said.


    ¡°I¡¯ll be waiting.¡±


    He left. I went over to where Wes and the others were waiting for me.


    ¡°Work stuff?¡± Wes asked.


    ¡°Yeah.¡±


    Scott said, ¡°How long will it take?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know. I¡¯ve been shirking a lot to be around you guys. If I can join you at nine, I will, but don¡¯t wait for me.¡±


    ¡°Will you be okay?¡± Eric asked.


    I sighed. ¡°How much do I have to pay you to forget what happened today?¡±


    Wes, Eric, and Dustin all looked at each other, but Scott cried, ¡°Doritos!¡±


    ¡°Huh?¡±


    ¡°One large bag of Doritos will buy my silence for eternity.¡±


    I looked to Dustin for interpretation.


    ¡°Wuller doesn¡¯t allow junk food,¡± he explained.


    I hadn¡¯t thought about it before, but no matter where I went in the school, I¡¯d never seen a vending machine. Conrad was going to starve. I decided it was high time I explored the town beyond the high, stone wall.


    ¡°Done,¡± I said to Scott. I looked at the rest of them. ¡°What about you guys?¡±


    Wes gave me a lopsided smile. ¡°Here¡¯s the problem¡ªwe may not say anything, but Eric, he worries about people.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, ¡®cause it¡¯s all me,¡± Eric said.


    Wes shrugged.


    I said to Dustin, ¡°Do you have any embarrassing stories about them?¡±


    He smiled. ¡°Oh, dozens.¡±


    ¡°Whoa! What¡¯s this?¡± Wes said.


    ¡°Bribery or blackmail,¡± I said, ¡°which ever you prefer, boys, but I would rather not have you reminding me of something I find that embarrassing.¡±


    ¡°All right! Sheez. You could have said please.¡±


    ¡°Please.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, yeah.¡±


    I looked at Eric.


    ¡°I¡¯ll take an explanation,¡± he said.


    I¡¯ve always had a hard time sharing stuff about myself, but no matter how I looked at it, the request was a fair one, and if they knew what happened made sense, maybe they wouldn¡¯t worry about it so much.


    I squeezed my fingers with my other hand. ¡°About a month ago, I almost drowned. It was, uh¡­pretty bad. I had some nightmares for a while.¡±


    ¡°Were you in a pool or something?¡± Wes asked.


    ¡°N-not really. Um, someone was trying to kill me.¡±


    The boys fell silent.


    Yup. As I had feared, there was no way to say that without sounding dramatic.


    ¡°Did the wolfman know about this?¡± Eric asked.


    I glared at him while wishing that my magical eyes had included a laser-beam feature. ¡°That ¡®wolfman¡¯ saved my life. He jumped through a window to do it.¡± I sighed and ran a hand over my scalp. ¡°That¡¯s what you don¡¯t get! Conrad looks big and scary, but he¡¯s the nicest guy you¡¯ll ever meet. He¡¯s sweet and shy, and¡ªfor flips sake!¡ªhe watched My Little Ponies with me because he lost at paper-rock-scissors!¡±


    Wes¡¯s laugh came out as a muted snort. ¡°Did you say ¡®for flips sake?¡¯¡±


    ¡°Hey!¡± Scott smacked Wes¡¯s arm. ¡°A lady doesn¡¯t swear! Dang it!¡±


    Dustin said softly, ¡°Does Conrad know that you like him?¡±


    ¡°A crush on a wolfman,¡± Scott mused. ¡°Kinky.¡±


    Eric wrapped an arm around the back of Scott¡¯s neck and dragged his head around for a well-earned noogie.


    Dustin ignored them. He kept watching me, waiting for an answer that I didn¡¯t have.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± I said. ¡°I mean, I hope he does, but it¡¯s not like people go around saying stuff like that.¡± I motioned to the four of them. ¡°When was the last time you guys said how much you liked each other?¡±


    Judging by how the four of them went out of their way to avoid meeting each other¡¯s eyes, I figured I had won the argument.


    ¡°Maybe you should tell him,¡± Dustin said. ¡°You could probably get away with it.¡± He gave my arm a single pat, the way I¡¯d seen him pat Wes and Scott when he advised them against doing something stupid. ¡°Just a thought.¡±


    ¡°Yeah. I¡¯ve got to go.¡± I waved to them. ¡°Later.¡±


    As they were walking away, I heard Wes say, ¡°You guys know I love you, right?¡±


    Scott hummed. ¡°Sorry, Wes. You¡¯re not my type.¡±


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    I made it to the room without getting lost, but Darius was already there, sitting at the desk. He glanced up from his laptop as I entered.


    ¡°One moment please,¡± he said.


    I gave him a whenever wave and sat on the arm of the sofa to watch him.


    ¡°Does email work through the veil?¡± I asked.


    ¡°The barrier only works on things you can see and hear. That¡¯s one of the quirks of magic. We can silence a call and make a microphone deaf, but if you want to stop an email, it¡¯s easier to yank out the modem.¡±


    He closed the laptop and turned to me. It looked like he was about to say something, but then he winced and turned his eyes away.


    ¡°I know it¡¯s not a good couch, Emerra, but it isn¡¯t your couch either.¡±


    ¡°Oh, sorry.¡± I scooted off the arm of the sofa and onto a cushion. I was still hanging over the back so I could see Darius.


    ¡°Let¡¯s start with this.¡± He stood up and walked around the end of the couch to bring me a piece of rumpled paper.


    I sat down properly and opened it.


    ¡°My notes!¡±


    ¡°Yesterday, were you ever down on the ground floor near the south wing?¡±


    ¡°Um¡­¡±


    ¡°Near the staff offices?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t think so. I¡¯ve only done half of the ground floor, and there weren¡¯t any staff there. Why?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll tell you later. For now, would you mind decoding this gibberish? I could only make out half of it.¡±


    I walked him through everything I had learned from Miller.


    ¡°Does any of it look promising?¡± I asked.


    ¡°It¡¯ll take some work to parse out the good leads. I¡¯ll have someone start looking into the staff members you mentioned. You said Turner was the only new teacher that¡¯s still here this year?¡±


    ¡°Yeah.¡± I didn¡¯t like him dwelling too much on my one and only drinking buddy, so I tried to switch subjects. ¡°Reisig¡¯s employment seems a little weird¡ªconsulting in September, hired in December.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m more curious why Miller was so careful to distinguish between the appearance of the first pyrokinetics and the rest of the early claims.¡±


    Huh. Yeah. That was strange.


    ¡°Do you want me to ask him about it?¡± I said.


    Darius eyed me for exactly one second too long.


    ¡°Can I help you?¡± I prompted.


    He smiled and shook his head. ¡°Never mind. Miller¡¯s explanation for why Reisig was hired in December makes sense. You don¡¯t need a full-time teacher for only one or two boys.¡±


    ¡°Did you ever find out whether Reisig brought the kids into his class before or after they showed their talent?¡±


    ¡°After,¡± Darius said. ¡°He only works with the students that have already demonstrated a talent.¡±


    ¡°Is that important?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not sure, but it means that Reisig isn¡¯t bringing students into his class, then turning them into psychics. What happened after you left me with Reisig and Jolie?¡±


    I told him about my tea with Wuller and about the big, fat nothing I had learned from wandering the school. I admitted I got lost, and, because I knew that honesty and transparency were vital to any investigation, I gave him all the details about my drink with Turner.


    Besides, he had a bad habit of pointing out whenever I lied to him.


    He listened without saying a word, and he only stopped me when I told him why I had collapsed.


    ¡°What do you mean?¡± he asked.


    The sudden question derailed me. And after I had been doing so well too.


    ¡°Huh?¡±


    ¡°¡®The shadows were in the wrong place¡¯¡ªwhat does that mean?¡±


    ¡°Um, you know how when you shine a light on an object¡ª¡±


    ¡°I know what a shadow is, Emerra.¡±


    ¡°Try to stay with me, Count.¡±


    I held up my left hand in a fist, and opened my right hand when it was above and to the side of my fist. Tah-dah! A lamp!


    I said, ¡°If the light is shining like this on an object, where would the shadow be?¡±


    Darius was sitting on the other end of the small sofa. All he had to do was lean forward to put his finger in the air where the imaginary shadow should have been hanging.


    ¡°Right! So would it be unusual if it was here instead?¡± I pointed with my lamp hand to the other side of my fist.


    I smiled, feeling rather pleased with my succinct demonstration, but when I looked at Darius, he was watching me, and his face was somber.


    ¡°Emerra, are you sure of what you saw?¡±


    My smile disappeared, and my hands dropped to my lap. ¡°I¡­yes. Yes, I know what I saw.¡±


    I would have given a thousand bags of Doritos to sound an ounce more confident.


    ¡°Is that the truth?¡± Darius asked.


    See what I mean about that bad habit?


    I grit my teeth for a moment. ¡°Look, that¡¯s what I saw. The shadows were wrong. There were some that shouldn¡¯t have been there, some were missing, and all of them were in the wrong place! I can¡¯t tell you if¡­if I was seeing things, or if I¡¯m crazy¡ª¡±


    A lump jumped into my throat. I looked away.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think you¡¯re crazy,¡± Darius said.


    I had to swallow before I could speak. ¡°You had Conrad follow me, didn¡¯t you?¡±


    There was a moment of silence.


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    I nodded. That was exactly what I had expected. ¡°Has he talked to you yet?¡±


    ¡°About what?¡±


    That was a no, then.


    Reluctance turned my stomach to lead and my tongue into an unwieldy slab of numb meat, but if I valued honesty at all, I knew I had to tell him.


    I squeezed my fingers hard enough my knuckles ground together. ¡°I had a panic attack.¡±


    Several seconds passed.


    Darius said, ¡°When was this?¡±


    ¡°During the boys¡¯ free period. They were helping me search the school.¡± I forced myself to look at him. ¡°Still don¡¯t think I¡¯m crazy?¡±


    ¡°Panic attacks don¡¯t mean you¡¯re crazy. It¡¯s a normal stress response to a traumatic experience. Do you know what triggered it?¡±


    I shook my head, then added in a mutter, ¡°I thought I was drowning.¡±


    Darius leaned back. His hand went to his jaw.


    ¡°Anyway,¡± I said, forcing my voice into a poor version of normal, ¡°there it is. I don¡¯t know if I was seeing things when I was in the hall, but I know what I saw. And yes, I did have a panic attack, but that wasn¡¯t what happened last night. They were different. You have to believe me.¡±


    ¡°I believe you.¡±


    ¡°Thank you.¡±


    I cautiously raised my eyes to his face. When I saw the faint worry lines at the edges of his mouth, my heart lurched. It was poised, probably dramatically, at the edge of some cliff, waiting to hear what Darius would say next.


    It felt like a long time before the vampire spoke.


    ¡°Let¡¯s say, for the sake of this discussion, that what you saw was not the product of your mind. Your eyes perceived the hallway properly, and your brain correctly interpreted the message. What would that mean?¡±


    I relaxed. If Darius was pondering the case, he probably wasn¡¯t going to make a big deal out of the drinking. Or the fainting. Or the panic attack.


    Geez. I was working up one heck of a list.


    ¡°Is there some kind of magic that could change how a building looks?¡± I asked.


    ¡°A better question is ¡®what kind of magic could change how a building looks to you.¡¯ That¡¯s a much harder question to answer, but I¡¯m meeting with Brisbane tomorrow. I can ask him.¡±


    ¡°Brisbane?¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s a member of the Albion Torr. I¡¯ve been buying us more time at the school by offering to help walk Wuller through some of the legal aspects of joining the Torr. I¡¯m borrowing a car to go pick up the papers tomorrow.¡±


    ¡°He couldn¡¯t email them to you?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯ll also give me a chance to dig around for who might have told Wuller about the Torr. Brisbane said a letter showed up at their office one day without any introduction.¡±


    ¡°Huh. That¡¯s¡­odd.¡±


    The Torrs were basically shadow societies without any of the glamour you¡¯d want from one. It turns out a bureaucracy is a bureaucracy¡ªmagic can only dazzle it up so much. But the one thing the Torrs were really good at was keeping secrets. Wuller shouldn¡¯t have been able to google their address.


    ¡°How long are you going to be gone?¡± I asked.


    ¡°At least a full day. I should be back either late tomorrow or early Saturday.¡±


    That seemed like a lot of time for picking up some papers and asking a few questions.


    Darius must have seen my incredulous expression.


    ¡°I¡¯m also going to see what I can dig up on Wuller and Reisig,¡± he explained.


    Oh. That made sense.


    ¡°Do you think Reisig is a member of the Psychic Society?¡± I asked.


    ¡°The what?¡±


    We looked at each other, our faces, mirrors of confusion.


    ¡°The Psychic Society,¡± I repeated. ¡°Like, you¡¯d think he¡¯d be a member. That¡¯s probably how Wuller¡ª¡±


    ¡°Is this a real society?¡±


    ¡°Yeah?¡± My brow creased. ¡°Doesn¡¯t the Torr deal with psychics? I thought you¡¯d have known about it.¡±


    ¡°The Torr deals with psychics when they exist. This?¡± He dashed his hand to the side. ¡°This isn¡¯t normal. Remember that. You say there¡¯s a society for psychics?¡±


    ¡°Well, for people who are interested in psychics.¡±


    ¡°How did you hear about it?¡±


    ¡°Miller told me.¡±


    ¡°Does that mean that Alex Miller and Wayne Wuller are both members?¡±


    I threw up my hands. ¡°I don¡¯t know when they last paid their dues! I was going to ask Miller more questions about the psychic fan club, but then I got a call from a vampire who really wanted me to meet a ghost!¡± I paused. ¡°My first life was not this weird.¡±


    My spirits lifted when I saw Darius¡¯s amused smile.


    ¡°I¡¯ll look into the society,¡± Darius said. ¡°You keep talking to people.¡±


    ¡°Hey, Darius, do you already have the car by any chance?¡±


    ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°I was wondering if you could take me out to grab some snacks.¡±


    ¡°You didn¡¯t get enough to eat?¡±


    ¡°I owe my boys some Doritos,¡± I added in a mumble, ¡°and Conrad wasn¡¯t at dinner. I thought he might get hungry.¡± I raised my head. ¡°Did you give him another assignment or something?¡±


    ¡°No. I texted him when he didn¡¯t show up. He said he wanted to go through the dorms when the boys were gone.¡±


    I pressed my lips together. That wasn¡¯t a bad excuse. Knowing Conrad, he probably did it too.


    Darius glanced at his watch. ¡°We better leave soon. The gates lock at ten, and I need to pack a few things before I leave.¡±


    ¡°Ready to go when you are, sir.¡±


    While we were walking down the hall, Darius said, ¡°Emerra, I want you to understand, Conrad was only following you because I asked him to.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s okay. I get it. You were worried I might collapse again¡ª¡±


    He leaned in and said, in a hushed, fast voice, ¡°We were worried you might be attacked again.¡±


    Hold up. Did he say what I think he said?


    Darius went on, ¡°We didn¡¯t know what had happened to you. We still don¡¯t know. I would have talked to you about it first, but I didn¡¯t get the chance. I don¡¯t want you to blame Conrad.¡±


    Blame? Forget blame! I was still reeling over the idea that anyone would bother attacking me.


    ¡°But there was no one around when I fainted!¡± I said.


    ¡°Emerra, we¡¯re dealing with a school full of aberrant psychics. We don¡¯t know how close they¡¯d have to be to attack you.¡±


    ¡°Um, which ones are the aberrant psychics? Did¡­did Iset write about them?¡±


    It took Darius a full three seconds before he could wrestle his grin back down to a closed-lip smile.


    ¡°Aberrant means abnormal,¡± he said.


    ¡°Where are you getting these words? Do they cost extra?¡±


    ¡°That was worth whatever you think I paid for it.¡±

 Chapter 27 - The Fourth Dream

    I returned to the room a few minutes before nine with some sandwiches, extra chips, and five different candies you couldn¡¯t get in America.


    Mom-Darius wouldn¡¯t let me get more than that. He said it was ¡°bad for me.¡±


    I had pointed out that leaving a store full of new and exciting candy without buying all of it would probably scar me for life.


    ¡°¡®No person has the power to have everything they want, but it is in their power not to want what they don¡¯t have,¡¯¡± he quoted.


    I stared at him.


    ¡°Seneca.¡±


    More staring.


    ¡°The stoic?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not going to win this argument, am I?¡±


    ¡°Put the candy on the counter, Emerra.¡±


    Conrad wasn¡¯t there to receive his boon.


    ¡°Do you think he¡¯s okay?¡± I asked, looking over the empty bedroom.


    Darius walked past me and pulled out his overnight bag from the wardrobe. ¡°Why don¡¯t you text him?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t want to annoy him.¡±


    The vampire stopped what he was doing. ¡°Annoy him?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll write a note so he knows these are for him. What time is it?¡±


    ¡°Ten to nine.¡±


    ¡°Shoot! I told the boys not to wait for me. I¡¯ll have to hurry.¡±


    I dumped the food on the bed, ignoring Darius¡¯s cry of distress, and ran out to the desk.


    I took the time to make sure my handwriting was more legible.


    Conrad,


    This is for you. Thought you might be hungry. Promise Please save half of each candy for me, I haven¡¯t had any yet.


    I ran back to the room, put the note on Conrad¡¯s pillow, and neatly stacked the food around it. I had originally planned on leaving one or two of the candies for Conrad, but I couldn¡¯t decide which ones he¡¯d like best, so I left them all.


    I grabbed the biggest bag of Doritos.


    ¡°Am I allowed to ask you to be careful?¡± Darius said when I was almost out the door.


    I took a step back.


    The count was fiddling around with his toiletry bag, but when he glanced up at me, I could see how serious he was¡ªhow worried.


    I thought about Eric. And Wes. And how I was worrying about Conrad.


    A tear or two sprang to my eyes, but I blinked them away and walked around the bed. As I got close to Darius, I saw him take a half step back, but the stupid bloodsucker wasn¡¯t going to get away that easily.


    I put my arms over his shoulders and pulled him into a hug.


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    ¡°I like you too, Darius.¡±


    At first his whole body was stiff, but then he bent to my inevitable will and relaxed. He even put his arms around me and squeezed me back.


    ¡°You¡¯re a strange girl, Emerra Cole.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s called a ¡®hug.¡¯ Victorian or not, you must have at least heard of them.¡±


    He patted my shoulder, then pushed me back to arm¡¯s length.


    ¡°Be careful,¡± he ordered. ¡°If you need any help, call Conrad. It won¡¯t annoy him.¡±


    ¡°And you!¡± I said. ¡°Don¡¯t go speeding around on the wrong side of the road.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll see you Saturday morning at the latest. Try to stay out of trouble until then.¡±


    ¡°No promises.¡±


    I waved with the bag of Doritos and left.


    The boys were still in the common room shared by all four houses when I got there. Scott grabbed his chips and laughed like the gremlin he was, but he still had enough social instinct to share it with the group.


    When Wes asked if I wanted to keep exploring the school, my stomach torqued itself into a knot. I guess I wasn¡¯t as over the panic attack as I needed to be.


    I countered with the offer to teach them how to play hacky sack. Since I didn¡¯t have a footbag, we had to use a wadded-up piece of paper. It was awful, but the boys didn¡¯t know any better. I tried not to laugh when Wes explained that they¡¯d all be brilliant at it because of how good they were at football.


    ¡°You mean soccer?¡±


    ¡°I mean football. When in Rome, Emerra.¡±


    ¡°And what do they call it in Rome?¡±


    ¡°Calcio,¡± Dustin said, batting the paper ball up with his foot and sending it flying across the room.


    It turned out that soccer skills do not translate to hacky sack when the sack in question weighs five grams. Imagine that!


    Other boys joined us. Wes accused Evans of using his power. Evans told him he was welcome to use his powers if he thought it¡¯d be useful. Since Wes seemed to be considering the idea, Dustin had to remind him that lighting the ball on fire was not generally considered useful.


    A teacher showed up five minutes to ten to clear out the common room. We all filed back toward the dorms. Scott broke off to head toward Fox House. At the end of the Salix hall, I said goodbye to the rest of them.


    I had already turned toward the stairs when I remembered there was something useful I could do.


    ¡°Hey, Wes!¡±


    Osborn whipped around to face me.


    ¡°What happens to your powers when you¡¯re on a break?¡±


    His cheek lifted in a half smile, and he shrugged. ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡±


    ¡°Huh?¡±


    ¡°I never use my powers when I¡¯m on break.¡±


    I lifted my hand in the universal what¡¯s-up-with-that gesture.


    He jogged the few steps back to me and muttered under his breath. ¡°It¡¯s my parents, you know? I think it¡¯s cool, but if they saw it, they¡¯d probably freak out and take me out of school. I like it here.¡±


    ¡°Your parents don¡¯t know you¡¯re a pyrokinetic?¡±


    ¡°Wooly¡¯s good about that. He doesn¡¯t tell them. He lets us tell them if we want to.¡±


    Yes, Wuller, who knew the history of psychics, would be very considerate about that.


    ¡°What happens if you light your bed on fire while you¡¯re at home?¡± I asked.


    Wes grinned. ¡°Hasn¡¯t happened yet!¡±


    I shoved him toward his friends and called out a last goodnight. As I walked back to my room, I thought about what he¡¯d said.


    I could understand why the pyros would hide their power; knowing your child could burst into flames at any moment would freak anyone out.


    I should have asked Evans, I thought.


    An image of exploding pots and glass leapt into my head.


    Maybe the telekinetics kept their powers hidden too. It was probably easier than trying to control them.


    When I got back to the room, I heard the shower running. Conrad had made it back, safe and sound. As long as he was showering, I could change without worrying, and I was tired enough, pajamas sounded like a good idea. I went over to the desk to grab my luggage.


    All five candies were sitting on the desk, unopened. No note.


    I couldn¡¯t help feeling rejected.


    The hallway was lined with open doors. At each door was one or two people, spilling out to watch. Their figures were so blurred by my tears, they looked like nothing more than ambiguous shapes. As I passed, some bowed their heads. I felt grateful to them. And sorry.


    I had to walk with my head up. Twice I had tried to look down, hoping to avoid part of my humiliation by pretending I was alone, but my head had been jerked back by my hair. This was a message: nothing could be hidden. It would all be seen.


    I couldn¡¯t even retreat into the illusion that I was wearing clothes. I could feel the cold wood boards beneath my bare feet and the chill of the air against my skin. The heat of my blush had faded. The only warmth left in me was my anguish¡ªand it burned.


    It smoldered in my chest, growing hotter with each step, charring my arteries as the blood pulsed through them. I could feel the course of the agony. It was nearing my hands.


    I took a deep breath, and let the sound of the jeers, the calls, and the laughter fall around my deadened ears. It was only noise. Nothing but noise. I fixed my eyes on the window at the far end of the hall. It was too dark outside to see anything except a navy-tinted reflection of myself, growing larger and clearer as I advanced: a woman with her head held high.


    I held it even higher.


    The pain of all the shame and isolation cooled.


    I could hide that, at least.

 Chapter 28 - The Comfort of Crunchyroll

    I sat on the edge of the windowsill, my head pressed against the cold glass, staring up at the few stars I could see through the thin clouds.


    I played with the candy bar¡¯s wrapper, but I never opened it. My stomach was too finicky for a chocolate bar. Too finicky for anything. Even the taste of the air made me feel slightly sick.


    ¡°Emerra?¡±


    Conrad was standing in the doorway between the front room and the bedroom. He was wearing a set of long pajama bottoms and a T-shirt, same as me, except his fit him while my shirt was one of his cast-offs and about ten sizes too big.


    A flash of embarrassment hit me. I did not want Conrad to see me like this. It wasn¡¯t the pajamas¡ªI couldn¡¯t care less about the pajamas¡ªbut I was so obviously moping. I sniffed, rubbed a hand under my nose, and hurried to sit up.


    ¡°Sorry,¡± I said. ¡°I¡¯m¡­uh¡­am I keeping you awake?¡±


    He nodded to the candy bar in my hand. ¡°You¡¯re going to destroy that thing before you get the chance to eat it.¡±


    I put it on the desk behind me. ¡°I¡¯ll be quieter.¡±


    Conrad crossed his arms. ¡°I never asked you to be quieter.¡±


    I didn¡¯t have an answer to that. I looked out the window and struggled to think of something else to say.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry about this afternoon. With the boys.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t have to apologize.¡±


    ¡°Okay,¡± I whispered.


    I pressed my lips together. Stars faded in and out as a small cloud rolled by.


    ¡°Did you have another dream?¡± Conrad asked.


    ¡°Yeah.¡±


    He cocked his head. ¡°Was it bad?¡±


    ¡°It was¡­uh¡­¡± I licked my lips and pressed them together again. ¡°Yeah. It was pretty bad.¡±


    I don¡¯t want to go back to sleep, and I¡¯m not sure if I even can¡ªbut we¡¯ll call that ¡°pretty bad.¡± I have to save ¡°really bad¡± for the dreams that cause my brain to squeeze out my ear and flee the room, screaming.


    ¡°Do you want to tell me about it?¡± Conrad asked.


    ¡°It¡¯s okay. We can talk about it tomorrow.¡±


    For a moment, he was still, then his muzzle dipped in a single nod. I waited for him to go back to bed, but he didn¡¯t leave. He leaned back on the doorframe so he wouldn¡¯t be directly facing me. After a few seconds, he said something, but his voice was low, and there was too much growl in it for me to make out what he was saying. It wasn¡¯t an angry growl. It was the growl you¡¯d hear when it was early in the morning or he wasn¡¯t bothering to articulate.


    He glanced at me, then lowered his eyes.


    ¡°I-I¡¯m sorry?¡± I said.


    He was still staring at the floor when he said, louder, ¡°Do you want to talk about why you¡¯ve been avoiding me?¡±


    Wow. And I didn¡¯t think I could feel any worse. Just goes to show.


    ¡°I haven¡¯t been avoiding you,¡± I said.


    His ears dropped down. ¡°Fine.¡±


    He turned to go.


    I shot to my feet. ¡°No! Conrad, wait! I haven¡¯t been avoiding you.¡±


    He turned back. ¡°Even before we got here, I only saw you at meal times. I¡¯ve gotten more words out of you in a single morning than I¡¯ve had in the past week. You want to tell me you haven¡¯t been avoiding me? Fine. But you could have just told me no.¡±


    ¡°No what?¡±


    ¡°That you didn¡¯t want to talk about it.¡±


    ¡°But it¡¯s not like that!¡±


    ¡°Whenever I¡¯m around, you always smell sad or upset.¡±


    The whole universe ground to a halt and sat there, waiting for me to respond. A decade passed. A century.


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    Conrad¡¯s ears twitched backward, reminding me that, despite how I felt, motion was possible.


    I opened my mouth before my mind got up to speed, so the next statement wasn¡¯t a shining example of thoughtfulness.


    ¡°You can¡¯t smell emotion.¡±


    Conrad wouldn¡¯t look at me. ¡°Not like that. Emotions don¡¯t have their own scent, but bodies react to emotion, and we can smell that.¡±


    Well¡­crap.


    ¡°Right now you¡¯re surprised,¡± he said. ¡°And upset.¡±


    ¡°Stop that.¡±


    ¡°How?¡±


    Once the shock passed, I felt a flutter of curiosity sneak through all my other emotions.


    ¡°You really can smell fear?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re not afraid right now. You used to be, but¡­not for a long time. I thought that¡ª¡±


    He shut his mouth so abruptly, his teeth clicked. He let out a loud sigh and went to sit on the couch.


    I moved closer.


    As he spoke, his ears sank.


    ¡°We¡¯re taught not to approach humans. We¡¯re always so much bigger than they are. We know it¡¯s intimidating, so we¡¯re taught, from the time we¡¯re little, that we shouldn¡¯t stand too close. You can smell when you¡¯ve gotten too close¡ªthe fear keeps ratcheting up.¡± He mimicked turning up a dial. ¡°We were told that when the humans got used to us, that would fade. Sometimes it did. Sometimes it didn¡¯t.¡±


    His shoulders were sinking too, rounding over his chest.


    ¡°Don¡¯t try to force it.¡± He sounded like he was reciting something. ¡°Let them come to you. If they come to you, they won¡¯t be scared.¡±


    Did that mean he never sought anyone out? What was he supposed to do if he was lonely?


    Conrad stopped. When he spoke again, his voice was soft: ¡°I¡¯m not trying to force you, Emerra, but I honestly don¡¯t know what I did wrong. If you¡¯ll tell me¡­maybe¡­¡± He paused. ¡°Maybe I can avoid it. In the future.¡±


    Everything around me, even the air, felt delicate. I moved slowly so I wouldn¡¯t break anything.


    I put my arms on the back of the couch next to Conrad and leaned over them. ¡°You didn¡¯t do anything wrong. I was worried that I was annoying you, so I tried to leave you alone.¡±


    His ears twitched into alertness. ¡°Why would you think you were annoying me?¡±


    I didn¡¯t have the energy to shrug. He wouldn¡¯t have seen it anyway. ¡°I annoy people. They think I¡¯m hyper. And stupid. And fake.¡±


    ¡°I never thought that.¡± He caught himself. ¡°I have thought you were hyper¡ªbut it didn¡¯t annoy me.¡±


    ¡°And when I pat you on the head? Or play with your ears?¡±


    ¡°Did it ever occur to you that you¡¯re fun to have around? You¡¯re playful. And happy¡ªmost of the time, anyway.¡±


    I couldn¡¯t help wondering what Conrad¡¯s nose made of the mush of emotions gooping up my chest.


    ¡°I wasn¡¯t bothering you?¡± I asked.


    ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°Do you promise?¡±


    ¡°I already said you weren¡¯t bothering me.¡± He let out another sigh. ¡°Look, I¡¯ll tell you if there¡¯s ever a problem, all right?¡± He lifted his nose. ¡°You¡¯re crying. Why are you crying?¡±


    I wiped my eyes and smiled. ¡°Did you smell that too?¡±


    He looked over his shoulder at me. ¡°Yes.¡±


    I put my hand on his head and ruffled his ears for as long as I could. Eventually, my arm got tired and I had to stop.


    ¡°Man, I missed doing that,¡± I said.


    He looked both resigned and amused. ¡°Feel better?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, I do.¡± I rested a couple of fingers on the short, soft hairs of his muzzle and shook my head. ¡°That poor nose of yours.¡±


    I moved my hand, boosted myself over the back of the couch, and crashed down beside Conrad. ¡°I guess that¡¯s two people I can¡¯t lie to.¡±


    ¡°You shouldn¡¯t lie to anyone.¡±


    I tapped my chest. ¡°Where I come from, it¡¯s considered socially acceptable to put on a face.¡±


    ¡°Humans are weird.¡±


    ¡°At least we don¡¯t turn down free candy.¡±


    ¡°Like I¡¯m going to eat your candy. I can smell disappointment, remember?¡±


    ¡°It was an offering! A thank you for helping me this afternoon.¡±


    ¡°You give candy as an offering?¡±


    ¡°Only the best for you, wolf-boy. Want to break into them now?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s three in the morning, Mera. You¡¯re going to get a sugar-high, and you won¡¯t be able to go back to sleep.¡± He paused. ¡°Or are you trying to avoid another nightmare?¡±


    We¡¯d had this conversation before, or something a lot like it. I had been sitting next to him, like this, but it had been on a bench. My birthday¡ªoutside the Noctis mansion, surrounded by stars.


    ¡°You smelled it back then,¡± I said, ¡°didn¡¯t you?¡±


    He twisted his head slightly and gave me a confused look.


    ¡°Back when I was dreaming about Wayde getting shot¡ªyou could smell that I was afraid to go to sleep.¡±


    ¡°Yeah.¡±


    ¡°Why didn¡¯t you tell me you could smell it?¡±


    He turned his head. There was a slight frown at the edge of his black lips. ¡°I don¡¯t talk about it. When I¡¯m working with Darius, it helps that people underestimate what I know.¡±


    ¡°And the rest of the time?¡±


    ¡°Humans don¡¯t like it when you know what they¡¯re feeling. Like you said, everyone¡¯s putting on a face¡ªthey don¡¯t like it when you can smell through it.¡±


    He had a point. Knowing that he could smell my emotions made me feel kind of naked.


    I thought about my latest dream and shivered.


    ¡°You okay?¡± Conrad asked.


    ¡°I¡¯m feeling a little vulnerable.¡± I pulled my knees up to my chest. ¡°Conrad, do you think there¡¯s an empath in this place?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know. If there is, he might be hiding it.¡±


    I wrapped my arms around my legs and put my chin on my knees.


    ¡°Mera?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t want to go to sleep right now. I¡¯m tired of being scared.¡± I closed my eyes and moaned, ¡°Can we watch some TV or something?¡±


    It was a useless question¡ªmore of a whine than anything else. There was no TV in our room. I couldn¡¯t remember seeing one in the common room either. It was probably another of Wuller¡¯s guiding principles.


    ¡°Would you like to watch some anime?¡± Conrad asked.


    My eyes flew open, a holy light descended, I could hear the angels singing, my heart lifted in rapturous joy!


    It had to be too good to be true.


    ¡°Huh?¡± I said.


    Conrad pulled his phone from his pajama pocket. ¡°Crunchyroll, right? I can have it downloaded in less than five minutes.¡±


    ¡°I thought it cost money.¡± I scooted closer and watched as he opened the app store.


    ¡°They usually have a free trial. If not, it¡¯s only eight bucks.¡±


    I helped him find the app, going so far as to reach over his arm and press on the blessed orange icon myself when he couldn¡¯t find it fast enough.


    We watched Blood Blockade Battlefront. When you¡¯re feeling small, sad, and defenseless, nothing cheers you up like a spastic, off-the-wall, humor-based, superhero adventure.


    Besides, I felt a deep kinship with Leonardo Watch.


    Conrad¡¯s phone was bigger than mine, but it was still small enough I had to lean on him so we could both read the subtitles. I didn¡¯t mind. His arm fur was cozy.

 Chapter 29 - Reisigs Class

    The next morning, Conrad and I were on our way to the dining hall when someone called my name.


    I turned and saw Aaron Reisig coming toward us.


    When he got closer, he nodded, uneasily, to Conrad. ¡°Good morning.¡±


    Conrad nodded back.


    Reisig said to me. ¡°I understand that Mr. Vasil isn¡¯t here today?¡±


    ¡°No, he needed to look into a few things.¡± I felt ending it there would be inadequate, so I dusted off my mask of professionalism and added, ¡°Can I help you with something?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not for me, exactly. I thought, as a representative of the Torr, you might want to sit in on my classes. Since it¡¯s Friday, I¡¯ll be meeting with all my psychics. The first session is for those with influencer abilities, the second is for the perceptive abilities.¡±


    I had no idea if that¡¯s what I wanted to do, but I figured that telling Reisig I had to text Darius to ask for instructions wouldn¡¯t look professional.


    ¡°I¡¯ll be there,¡± I said. ¡°Thank you for letting me know.¡±


    He nodded and left. Neither Conrad nor I moved as we watched him go.


    ¡°Did I make the right call?¡± I asked under my breath.


    Conrad shrugged. ¡°Reisig¡¯s one of our main suspects. Watching him and the psychics will probably be more useful than walking around the school and finding nothing.¡±


    ¡°Are you going to come?¡±


    He put his hands in his pockets. ¡°I better not.¡±


    ¡°Why not?¡±


    ¡°Come on, zombie-girl.¡± Conrad started off toward the dining room. ¡°Will you be okay without me?¡±


    I made a pfff sound and threw my hands over my head. ¡°How should I know? I¡¯ve made a hobby of collapsing for no reason!¡± I moved my hands to my hips. ¡°I¡¯m such a hero.¡±


    ¡°Osborn¡¯s the pyrokinetic, right?¡±


    ¡°Yeah.¡±


    ¡°Stay with him until you get to Reisig¡¯s class. Pyrokinesis is an influencer ability. He¡¯ll be in the first hour.¡±


    ¡°You trust him?¡±


    I heard a soft chuff that could have been a laugh or a scoff. ¡°He was ready to fight a lycanthrope because he thought I was stalking you. I would have preferred a smarter guardian, but I trust he¡¯ll look after you.¡±


    I smiled and purposefully bumped into him as we walked. ¡°Come eat breakfast with us.¡±


    ¡°Sorry, Mera. Not today. You talk to the boys. I¡¯ll talk to Wuller.¡±


    ¡°Oh, fine.¡±


    Osborn got me to Reisig¡¯s class, no problem, but then he was called away by the other students. I stayed by the door and texted Darius to let him know what was going on and ask if there was anything he wanted me to look for.


    His less than useful answer was Anything strange.


    I was in a room full of psychics, looking for ¡°anything strange.¡±


    There was at least one strange thing that caught my attention: one of the boys kept glancing at me. I¡¯d been at the school for three days¡ªthe novelty factor should have worn off. The kid was weirding me out, not only because of how often and how concentrated his glances were, but also because he looked so familiar to me.


    Then I realized who he was.


    When he saw my smile of recognition, he left the group he¡¯d been hovering around, came over, and leaned back on the wall next to me.


    ¡°Hi,¡± I said.


    ¡°Hey,¡± he said.


    ¡°Emerra Cole.¡± I put my hand out. ¡°I don¡¯t know if you remember me.¡±


    As we shook, he said, ¡°I remember you. I¡¯m Taylor Jolie.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, I know. It just took me a minute to figure it out. You looked a lot paler the last time I saw you.¡±


    ¡°Huh. So did you.¡±


    When I laughed, a smile flickered over his face.


    He went on, ¡°I¡¯ve seen you before though. You¡¯re always hanging out with Osborn and Reed.¡±


    I nodded across the room to where Wes was holding court with his peasants. ¡°When he isn¡¯t too busy being popular.¡±


    ¡°Do they know about your power?¡±


    My smile faded. ¡°No. It would be hard to explain.¡±


    ¡°But you are one of us, right?¡±


    My mind went blank. I watched him, waiting for sense to arrive.


    ¡°A psychic?¡± he said.


    Wuller had said I was a medium, which I knew was a kind of psychic, but Jacky had always referred to me as a seer. I had no idea what the difference was¡ªif there was one.


    I made a mental note to look into it and offered Jolie the only answer I could: a shrug.


    Jolie let his gaze drift over the room¡ªthe students crowded around the mats, the misaligned rows of chair-desks that had been set up in the middle of the floor¡ªbut I got the feeling that he wasn¡¯t paying attention to any of it.


    ¡°I¡¯m glad you¡¯re here.¡± Jolie¡¯s tone was casual, but there was some depth to his words that wasn¡¯t there a moment before. ¡°I wasn¡¯t sure there were any other psychics. Like maybe this school was some kind of bad dream.¡±


    ¡°A bad dream?¡±


    ¡°You go out for the weekend, and everything¡¯s normal. You start to wonder if any of it¡¯s real, or if it¡¯s only real here. You wonder if we¡¯re the only psychics in the world. It can feel kind of lonely.¡± He nodded to the circle of pyros and telekinetics. ¡°Maybe it¡¯s different for them.¡±


    Wes was laughing so hard, his bright eyes scrunched up until they almost disappeared. He was always so unrestrained, so open.


    Except when it came to his powers.


    ¡°Maybe it¡¯s not as different as you think,¡± I said.


    ¡°At least they can show people their talent. I¡¯m supposed to be the most advanced psychic here. The only astral projectionist. Bloody useless ability.¡±


    There was something about the way he spoke. I knew that attitude: you don¡¯t care because caring hurts, and you stay detached because it¡¯s safer. It resonated with the part of me that tried to deaden out all the painful thoughts that haunted my brain.


    I wanted to offer him some light, some spark of happiness¡ªanything other than his dull, heavy indifference.


    ¡°What?¡± I said. ¡°No girl¡¯s locker room?¡±


    Jolie looked at me, his eyes wide and disbelieving. I offered him a sly smile.


    When he saw it, he burst out laughing.


    After his laughter faded, he shook his head. ¡°I never thought you¡¯d be joking about that.¡±


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    ¡°But I bet I¡¯m not the first.¡±


    ¡°More like the millionth.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s what I figured.¡±


    ¡°I never would though.¡±


    ¡°Sure,¡± I said, my voice drenched with sarcasm. ¡°That¡¯s what they all say.¡±


    ¡°But it¡¯s true,¡± he protested. ¡°I never would. I¡¯m too scared to leave my body.¡±


    ¡°How many times have you¡±¡ªI tried to pick a word that didn¡¯t sound stupid¡ª¡°projected?¡±


    He held up four fingers, then put his arm back behind him.


    ¡°And it¡¯s still scary?¡± I asked.


    His hands were trapped between him and the wall. He used his fingers to bounce himself forward before rocking back to do it again.


    ¡°Miss Cole, what happens to me if I wake up while I¡¯m away?¡±


    I felt a cold uncertainty, like a thread of ice, curl around my spine. Jolie¡¯s face was calm, but when his eyes darted over to me, I could see the same uncertainty curling through him¡ªonly it¡¯d had more time to dig in.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Taylor,¡± I said. ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡±


    He frowned, but he also nodded. ¡°That¡¯s fair. Just thought I¡¯d ask.¡±


    ¡°Have you talked to Reisig? He¡¯s an astral projectionist.¡±


    The boy¡¯s lip lifted in a sneer. ¡°It¡¯s always, ¡®it depends,¡¯ with him. Depends on the person. Depends on the circumstances. There¡¯s never a straight answer.¡±


    Reisig had come through the door as I spoke his name. Since Jolie was looking at me, he didn¡¯t see his teacher. Reisig came up behind him in time to hear the accusation.


    ¡°We¡¯re psychics, Mr. Jolie,¡± he said. ¡°There are no straight answers.¡±


    Jolie stood up and turned. ¡°Good morning, Mr. Reisig.¡±


    ¡°Good morning. I¡¯m sorry to interrupt your conversation, but it¡¯s time to start class.¡±


    Jolie went off to claim one of the chair-desks. Reisig called to the other students. They all sat down. I went over to the edge of the bleachers to stay out of the way.


    Reisig wheeled out an ancient chalkboard, already covered with a well-structured outline, and started delivering a fast-paced lecture on how psychics were defined and categorized.


    He wasn¡¯t a bad teacher. He had enough respect for his students, he didn¡¯t dumb down any of the material, but he never made it any more complicated than it needed to be, and he paused at the end of each section to ask them ¡°what questions do you have?¡± which, in my admittedly limited experience, always got more of a response than ¡°do you have any questions.¡±


    I already knew most of the information he was presenting from reading Iset¡¯s notes, but I did learn why Jolie was in the influencer class: astral projectionists were supposed to be manipulating their own soul. Perceptive psychic talents didn¡¯t manipulate things, they only witnessed them.


    While the boys were taking a quiz, Reisig joined me on the bleachers, and I had the chance to ask him about it.


    ¡°It¡¯s hard for Jolie and the levitators,¡± he said. ¡°Since their talents are involuntary, they can¡¯t practice using them. I¡¯ve been meaning to talk to Wuller about changing the setup from influencer and perceptive, to voluntary and involuntary. The original division would seem natural to someone who studied the talents, but I could have told them¡ªit¡¯s different when you¡¯re using them.¡±


    ¡°You didn¡¯t set up the classes?¡±


    ¡°No. That was my predecessor.¡±


    My mind scurried over everything I¡¯d learned¡ªthe firings and hirings, all the people coming in and out. Had I missed something?


    ¡°I didn¡¯t know they had a teacher before you,¡± I said.


    ¡°Rightly said, they didn¡¯t. They had a temporary stand-in.¡±


    Alex Miller stepped through the door and scanned the room.


    Reisig leaned back and grumbled under his breath, ¡°And here he is.¡±


    Miller noticed me and Reisig and came toward us, but he was spotted in turn.


    ¡°It¡¯s our pillar Miller!¡± Wes cried.


    The other psychics looked up from their quizzes.


    ¡°Hail the fearless hero!¡± another boy cried.


    Four boys stood up. Wes and the second worshiper were among them. Eight arms were raised high.


    ¡°Hail!¡± they cried in unison.


    Miller¡¯s cheeks instantly flushed red. The poor guy really was too much fun to tease.


    ¡°You¡¯ll get back to those tests, boys,¡± he said. ¡°Osborn, have you even started?¡±


    Wes grinned. ¡°Very nearly, sir.¡±


    ¡°Oh? Then you might very nearly pass.¡±


    He turned back to me and Reisig. When he saw my smile, the red of his cheeks deepened by another shade.


    I should have been ashamed of myself. I, as a fellow blusher, knew the pain of our condition. At least now I could empathize with my torturers.


    ¡°Good morning, Miss Cole,¡± Miller said. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Reisig. I didn¡¯t mean to interrupt.¡±


    ¡°You never do,¡± Reisig said.


    There was a strained silence.


    Miller took another step forward and raised the hanging folder he was holding. ¡°I came here to see if you had a moment to go over some of your notes¡±¡ªhis eyes darted over to me, then returned to Reisig¡ª¡°but if you¡¯d rather go over them later¡­?¡±


    ¡°Is there a problem with them?¡±


    Reisig¡¯s voice had the same quiet, angry stubbornness that I¡¯d first heard when he was talking to Darius.


    Miller gave me another uneasy glance before he answered. ¡°I had a few questions.¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t know it was your job to criticize my work.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s my job to compile your notes when they¡¯re asked for. Mr. Vasil comes back tomorrow, and he wants to see them.¡±


    Oh. That was why all the glances at me.


    ¡°Did you want me to leave so you can talk?¡± I asked.


    I cursed myself the moment the words were out of my mouth. It might have been the polite thing to do, but there was zero doubt in my mind that Darius would have only excused himself from the conversation because he could listen in from across the room.


    Miller opened his mouth, but before he could answer, Reisig said, ¡°No, Miss Cole. You can stay. If you want to learn about the psychics of Setlan on Lee, this is part of it.¡± He nodded to the assistant. ¡°Go on Miller, what¡¯s the problem?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s about several of the boys with preceptive talents.¡±


    ¡°Let me guess. Mitchell, Tamm, and Black?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    Miller was frowning. I¡¯d never seen him look so serious. He stood taller too. There was no nervousness in his manner, no hesitation, no unconscious bending toward others. If I had to guess, I¡¯d say that Miller was, at least for that moment, unconscious of the people around him.


    ¡°Go on,¡± Reisig said.


    When Miller spoke, he kept his voice low enough the boys couldn¡¯t hear.


    ¡°I wonder if you were¡­as thorough¡­as you should have been when evaluating their claims.¡±


    ¡°Huh. You know, it seems right that you¡¯re compiling those notes for Mr. Vasil. You sound exactly like him.¡±


    ¡°If that¡¯s supposed to be a criticism, Mr. Reisig, I¡¯m afraid I don¡¯t follow it.¡±


    ¡°You never worked with those boys, Miller. Why are you so sure they¡¯re making it up?¡±


    ¡°I never said they were. My concern is with all the information that you¡¯ve omitted. The process¡ª¡±


    ¡°That ¡®process,¡¯ as you call it, takes a half hour per student and teaches you nothing¡ª¡±


    ¡°Nothing!¡± Miller¡¯s face turned red again, but this time, it wasn¡¯t from embarrassment.


    ¡°Nothing,¡± Reisig said. ¡°For all the information we¡¯ve gathered, I doubt you could ever prove they¡¯re lying.¡±


    Miller¡¯s jaw worked for a second. It¡¯s possible he was chewing back a few things he wanted to say. Judging from his expression, they were bitter. When he spoke, his tone reminded me of a really polite knife.


    ¡°With what little information you¡¯ve given us, I doubt we¡¯ll ever be able to prove they aren¡¯t.¡±


    Oh, gosh. Was this a British fight? Gloves off, gentlemen! Let¡¯s brawl.


    Too bad I didn¡¯t have a little Union Jack flag to wave around as I cheered. On the other hand, I wasn¡¯t sure who I was supposed to be cheering for.


    Reisig said, ¡°Put together the notes, Miller. If Wuller or Vasil have any questions for me, I¡¯ll answer them.¡±


    What a devious little word: them. It could have been ¡°them,¡± the questions, but I got the feeling it was more like ¡°them,¡± not you.


    Miller pressed his lips together until they disappeared. When he turned his head, he caught sight of the boys. A few of them were watching.


    ¡°If that¡¯s what you want, Mr. Reisig,¡± he said.


    Miller bowed and left without another word.


    When the door closed behind Miller, Reisig shouted, ¡°Five more minutes, boys!¡±


    The students who were still staring returned their attention to their work.


    Reisig said, only for me to hear, ¡°Thank you for staying.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re thanking me?¡± I said.


    ¡°I like to have someone around when I¡¯m dealing with Miller.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°In case it ever turns into a I-said, he-said situation.¡±


    An unsettled feeling wriggled around my chest. All of my experience with Miller led me to believe that he was an up-front kind of guy. The idea that Reisig didn¡¯t trust him bothered me.


    ¡°That process he mentioned,¡± I said¡ªwell, baited, really. I was baiting Reisig.


    ¡°He created a pseudo-scientific questionnaire I¡¯m supposed to fill out every time a perceptive psychic¡¯s power manifests. He says it¡¯s about standards.¡±


    ¡°The questions don¡¯t help at all?¡±


    ¡°Subjective experiences, Miss Cole. You can¡¯t prove a subjective experience. But the way Miller pushes it, I wonder if it¡¯s more about discrediting me than about his standards.¡± Reisig put his elbows on his knees, let his hands rest between his legs, and interlaced his fingers. ¡°I guess it¡¯s better than him challenging the boys directly.¡±


    ¡°Why would Miller want to discredit you?¡±


    ¡°Did you know that he applied for my job?¡±


    I hadn¡¯t. And I¡¯m sure the surprise showed on my face.


    He looked over his students. ¡°Have you ever felt like someone you work with is out to get you?¡±


    It was alarming how quickly my mind turned to Olivia.


    ¡°Kind of,¡± I said.


    ¡°What do you do with them?¡± he asked.


    My stomach sank as I thought about it. I had listened to her. Despite the fact I knew she didn¡¯t like me, I had allowed her to convince me that I was a problem.


    Of course, to her, I was a problem.


    ¡°I usually give them the benefit of the doubt,¡± I admitted, my voice full of all the uncertainty I felt.


    ¡°Why?¡± Reisig asked.


    ¡°Because sometimes it¡¯s the people who don¡¯t like you that are the most likely to be honest.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not honesty, Miss Cole. That¡¯s prejudice.¡±


    I shook my head. ¡°Not always. The ones who don¡¯t like you don¡¯t care about your feelings. They can tell you all the hard truths. People hide things from the people they like. They don¡¯t want to risk hurting their feelings.¡±


    ¡°That sounds like abandonment talking.¡±


    There I was, running a hundred miles an hour¡ªsmack!¡ªinto a wall of clear ice. I didn¡¯t see it coming, it left me feeling cold and stunned, and geez, did it hurt.


    ¡°What?¡±


    I blurted out my response in a whisper. Considering how I felt, I was impressed it was actually English.


    ¡°It sounds like you don¡¯t trust your friends will stay with you if you tell them the truth,¡± Reisig said. ¡°That kind of fear comes from abandonment.¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t say it was me.¡±


    Reisig put up a hand to shush me. I looked around. Some of the boys were staring.


    I turned back when Reisig said, ¡°In my experience, when people say ¡®people do this,¡¯ they¡¯re usually talking about themselves.¡±


    ¡°You mean like you just did?¡±


    ¡°Exactly like that. And people do it all the time.¡±


    Reisig stood up and called for the boys to put down their pens. I stayed on the bleachers and glowered at his back.


    What a jerk. What an absolute jerk of a human being. Did he think he was a psychic or something?


    I smiled at my own bad joke and tried glowering at the mats instead.


    If I was that angry, it meant he¡¯d hit a nerve, and in my experience, there were few things I hated more than when people were right about me.


    I spent the rest of the class session watching the boys practice their psychic abilities and trying not to think about how pathetic it was that I was a twenty-year-old woman who still felt like a sad little girl.

 Chapter 30 - Miller Explains

    As soon as the first session was over, I grabbed Wes by the sleeve and dragged him over to Reisig. I told Reisig that I had to go somewhere, but I hoped to be back shortly after the second session started.


    Then I dragged Wes out into the hall.


    ¡°You don¡¯t mind being late to your next class, do you?¡± I asked.


    ¡°No,¡± he said. ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°I want you to help me find Miller. I have to talk to him.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s easy. He¡¯s in Wuller¡¯s office. Second floor.¡±


    ¡°Third floor.¡±


    ¡°We don¡¯t have a third floor.¡±


    When I realized my mistake, I grunted. ¡°Basement, ground floor, first floor, second floor¡ªright?¡±


    ¡°Yeah?¡±


    ¡°No wonder I keep getting lost. You can¡¯t even number your floors right.¡± I batted his arm. ¡°Come on. Conrad says you¡¯re my guardian.¡±


    ¡°Your guardian?¡± A huge smile bloomed on the kid¡¯s face.


    I started walking. ¡°Watch it. If your head gets any bigger, we¡¯ll have to pop it like a balloon.¡±


    Wes was only a step behind me. ¡°No, no. I get it. You¡¯ve had a rough two days.¡±


    I stopped and pointed at him. ¡°I¡¯m not a fair maiden.¡±


    ¡°Oh,¡± he frowned and shook his head, ¡°of course not. Obviously.¡±


    We made it a few feet further down the hall.


    ¡°But the wolfman called me a guardian?¡±


    I rolled my eyes and kept walking.


    We found Miller on the third (aka, second) floor as he was walking toward Wuller¡¯s office.


    ¡°Miller!¡± I cried.


    I motioned for Wes to hang back while I ran to catch up with the assistant.


    Miller had looked around when I called his name, but then he turned back. ¡°Ah, Miss Cole.¡± His pace picked up. ¡°Is there something I can do for you?¡±


    ¡°I have a few questions, if you don¡¯t mind.¡±


    ¡°I, uh¡­I¡¯m afraid I¡¯m rather busy.¡±


    I caught up to him and matched my pace to his. ¡°Cool. I¡¯m not.¡±


    ¡°Well, then¡ª¡±


    ¡°That means that I can follow you around while you work.¡±


    The assistant stopped and let out a sigh so large, I had to wonder where he¡¯d been storing all the air. He turned to me. ¡°Is this about what happened between me and Reisig?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry that you had to see that, but I don¡¯t think it¡¯d be proper¡ª¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s only a few questions, Alex.¡± Using his first name was mean, but what I did next probably made some imp in hell cackle and put a chalk mark up by my name. ¡°I¡¯d like to hear your side of the story.¡±


    He hesitated, then took a step toward me and lowered his voice. ¡°Has Reisig been talking about me?¡±


    ¡°He told me a few things.¡±


    ¡°What kind of things?¡±


    ¡°He told me that you applied for his job.¡±


    Miller leaned back on the wall. I took a step closer and leaned on the wall beside him.


    ¡°That was a long time ago,¡± he said.


    ¡°A year is a long time?¡±


    ¡°Sometimes a year can be interminable.¡±


    I shut my mouth and listened.


    Miller said, ¡°When the powers first started appearing, we needed a way to track what was happening. Wuller and I worked together to create a system. Mr. Wuller is¡­he¡¯s a good man, and normally, he¡¯s a conscientious scholar, but he wanted it all to be true so badly. Sometimes he¡¯d get angry with me, but then he¡¯d laugh and say I was exactly what he needed. The common sense he didn¡¯t have.¡±


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    I thought back over the papers that Darius had brought into the room and the labels on the back of every automatic sketch.


    ¡°You took the earliest notes, didn¡¯t you?¡± I asked.


    ¡°I kept all the records and acted as the instructor until Mr. Reisig was hired. I knew he¡¯d be taking over then, so I tried to set out more of my process, to give him a guide he could use to help him keep the records consistent, but¡­well, you¡¯ve seen the problem. Maybe it was foolish of me to think that someone else could adapt to my thinking.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re the skeptical one?¡±


    A hesitant smile appeared. ¡°That, uh¡­that word¡ªit has different meanings, depending on who you¡¯re talking to. Maybe ¡®cautious¡¯ would be a better word. I¡¯m not so excited by the powers that I¡¯ll believe anyone who claims to have them. I think our first duty is to establish standards and gather information. The more we know, the more we can help these boys call up their powers and control them.¡±


    ¡°So it¡¯s not about discrediting Reisig?¡±


    Miller grimaced. ¡°I don¡¯t suppose there¡¯s much point in pretending that Reisig and I are friends¡ªwe¡¯re not¡ªbut I think he¡¯s a valuable member of the staff. If he left, it¡¯d be hard to replace him.¡±


    ¡°Couldn¡¯t you do it?¡±


    The assistant shook his head, then mumbled, ¡°I understand that now. Wuller was right to choose Reisig over me.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t think you could keep up with all the paperwork?¡± My voice was half teasing, half serious.


    His answer was all serious: ¡°It¡¯s not the paperwork that scares me, Miss Cole.¡±


    ¡°What is it?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s the powers.¡± He turned his head, as if he meant to look at me, but his gaze stayed fixed on my shoes. ¡°Even before we hired Reisig, more and more of the boys were coming forward, showing abilities. I thought, surely, there had to be an end to it, but there wasn¡¯t. It was one inexplicable event after another. But only one! Levitation, clairvoyance, clairauditory, the automatic drawings¡ªwhy only one or two events? Nothing we tried could induce the powers to manifest again. I started to wonder if the boys weren¡¯t tapping into their own powers, but something else was reaching out, tapping into them, then moving on. I caught myself looking over my shoulder. I felt like something was watching me.¡±


    I had to stop myself from turning around. I knew there was nothing behind me except the wall and a few shadows.


    The shadows were getting heavier by the second.


    Miller tried to smile and failed. ¡°A paranoid teacher would hardly be a good teacher, even if they can handle the paperwork. Every now and then, I miss the boys, but I think they¡¯re better off with Reisig.¡±


    I didn¡¯t know what to say. The silence was filled with a sense of unspoken sorrow.


    ¡°Is there anything else I can help you with, Miss Cole?¡±


    His bright tone might have been faked, but it was enough to jar me out of my stillness.


    I almost told him no, but then I remembered.


    ¡°What¡¯s so special about the pyros?¡± I asked.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry?¡±


    ¡°When I was talking to you two days ago, you said that Reisig had consulted here before the first pyrokinetics had been found. Why did you draw the line there?¡±


    Miller tapped his fingers on the file he was holding. When he finally answered, it was a mumble.


    ¡°Maybe I am the skeptical one, but you see, Miss Cole, I¡¯m fairly sure that all the claims before the pyros were fake.¡±


    ¡°All of them?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s hard to say since they were all involuntary, subjective talents, but that¡¯s what I thought. That¡¯s why I only started keeping records when the pyros appeared.¡±


    I fell silent again.


    Miller shifted from foot to foot. ¡°Any other questions?¡±


    ¡°No.¡± I took a deep breath. ¡°No, thank you. I¡¯ll leave you alone now.¡±


    He nodded to me, then turned and continued down the hall. I stayed where I was.


    A minute later, Wes came and leaned on the wall beside me.


    ¡°How did it go?¡± he asked.


    I frowned and tossed myself off the wall by an inch so I could settle with my back to the wall instead of my arm.


    ¡°Wes, you were one of the earliest pyrokinetics, weren¡¯t you?¡±


    ¡°Emerra, I was the earliest pyrokinetic.¡±


    ¡°The first one?¡±


    ¡°Very first. That was scary as hell. Dustin wakes me up, screaming my name. I can¡¯t figure out why it¡¯s so hot, or why it smells so bad. Then I see all the flames.¡±


    I said with a grin, ¡°You didn¡¯t notice them first?¡±


    ¡°It was the middle of the night! I could barely get my eyes open. I thought Dustin was having another bad dream and had turned on the light or something. Nope! It¡¯s me. I¡¯m on fire. My bed¡¯s on fire. I start freaking out, I¡¯m too scared to even realize that it doesn¡¯t hurt. Dustin reaches through the flames, grabs me, and hauls me out onto the floor. Pure chaos. Alarms are going off everywhere. Someone comes in with a fire extinguisher. Dustin has me off in the corner of our room, and he¡¯s checking everywhere to see if I¡¯m burned.¡±


    ¡°Were you burned?¡±


    ¡°Not a bit. I was starkers ¡®cause I didn¡¯t know how to control anything¡ªmy arms kept igniting whenever I got scared¡ªbut my clothes and the mattress had the worst of it. Turner comes in to find out what happened. Dustin wouldn¡¯t say anything, and I didn¡¯t know what to tell him. I thought I was going to be expelled¡ªso, naturally, my hands light up again. Whoomph.¡±


    He raised his hands to demonstrate. A lick of fire rolled over them.


    ¡°Sorry,¡± he said, shaking them out.


    He went on, ¡°When Turner saw that, he called in Wuller. Wuller called in Miller. It¡¯s two in the morning, and I¡¯m suddenly the most popular kid around¡ªexcept they have to keep a bucket of water for me to dunk my hands in until I¡¯ve calmed down some more.¡±


    I chuckled.


    ¡°That¡¯s right,¡± he said, smiling. ¡°I couldn¡¯t scrape together a gram of dignity. Now you know the dark truth of this place. All those fancy reports and science-sounding papers¡ªthey all started with me, naked and terrified.¡±


    I had no doubt that Wes had shared all the details of that lovely story to make me feel better about my panic attack. My heart glowed with gratitude and fondness.


    ¡°Was Miller a good teacher?¡± I asked.


    ¡°A good teacher?¡± Wes scratched his head. ¡°He was decent. I liked him¡ªwe all did¡ªbut he wasn¡¯t great. Class with him was one big science experiment. Reisig isn¡¯t anywhere near as fun, but he teaches us stuff. He coaches us on what to do. Brown¡ªhe¡¯s a clairvoyant¡ªhe said that Reisig admitted he didn¡¯t know how to use the claircognitive abilities, so he organized a project where they did research to figure out what they could do to encourage their powers. The whole class. And they all did it because it mattered. It wasn¡¯t busywork.¡±


    ¡°Did it work?¡±


    Wes shrugged.


    I sighed. ¡°Come on, we better get you back to class.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t you need a guardian?¡±


    ¡°You can take me back to the old gym, then go to class.¡± I pushed away from the wall and started toward the stairs.


    Wes followed me. ¡°But this is the perfect excuse! I might not have to go to class again the whole time you¡¯re here.¡±


    ¡°Conrad isn¡¯t a teacher. He can¡¯t give you a pass.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, but who¡¯s going to argue with him?¡±

 Chapter 31 - The Accident

    Friday afternoon, second slot.


    The schedule Miller had given me back on Monday claimed it was ¡°free time.¡± At lunch, Wes explained that it was really ¡°football.¡±


    ¡°And we mean the good football,¡± he said.


    ¡°Soccer?¡± I said.


    ¡°Calicio!¡± Scott yelled.


    ¡°It¡¯s calcio,¡± Dustin corrected him.


    They wanted me to join in.


    They said it was an open game, so I didn¡¯t have to worry about messing up the teams, and everyone from Fox and Salix House could play if they wanted to. If they didn¡¯t want to, they had better have a darn good excuse, or they would be cast out from acceptable society, and it would take a lot of Doritos to redeem them. That meant over a hundred boys could be on the field at the same time.


    ¡°A hundred?¡± I said.


    Eric shrugged. ¡°It¡¯s a big field.¡±


    ¡°But¡ª¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry,¡± Wes assured me, ¡°we have them bring in a new ball for every twenty people.¡±


    ¡°You play with five balls?¡±


    ¡°Neat, huh?¡± Scott chirped.


    I stared at Scott Shipp, the smallest of the group, and tried to calculate his odds of survival.


    I didn¡¯t mind that the school was full of thugs and delinquents, and the question of whether or not someone had attacked me seemed like a fading dream¡ªbut the idea of that soccer field terrified me.


    ¡°No thanks!¡±


    Then the whining began. Eric and Dustin together couldn¡¯t rescue me. Wes and Scott only let up after they¡¯d extracted a promise that I¡¯d at least come to watch.


    That¡¯s why I was out on the field on a rainy afternoon, cheering for whatever random group of barbarians was close enough to hear me, and wondering why I still didn¡¯t have a little Union Jack to wave around.


    I felt someone tap my shoulder. It was Turner. He was wearing track pants and a rain jacket.


    ¡°They pay me to do this,¡± he said cheerfully. ¡°So what the hell are you doing here?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m trying to figure out where my friends are. You think it¡¯d be easier since there are only sixty boys.¡± I squinted into the rain and raised my finger to one of the taller kids in a (formerly) bright yellow scrimmage vest. ¡°I think that mud-slick is Eric Reed, but don¡¯t quote me on it.¡±


    ¡°Is that jacket going to be warm enough for you? Your hood is already drenched.¡±


    ¡°Well, it¡¯s not like it¡¯s going to ruin my hair.¡±


    I smiled when I heard him laugh.


    He took a step closer so he could lower his voice. ¡°I heard you were sick yesterday.¡±


    ¡°Yeah. Sorry about that. If the boys ever try to use me to get out of class¡ª¡±


    He waved off my concern. ¡°May I ask what happened?¡±


    I didn¡¯t want to admit that I had collapsed right after I left him. I didn¡¯t see that conversation going anywhere useful. Thankfully, I had already field tested a lie. Never mind that Norris didn¡¯t seem inclined to buy it.


    ¡°I have pretty bad anemia. I collapsed¡ªand I know that sounds bad, but it¡¯s not. Not really.¡±


    Turner shook his head. There was a rueful smile on his face. ¡°What are you doing here, Miss Cole?¡±


    ¡°Huh?¡±


    ¡°What is this Torr?¡± He spat out the word. ¡°Are they making you do this?¡±


    ¡°Turner¡ªPaul¡ªdude, it¡¯s okay. I volunteered to be here.¡±


    He eyed me for a moment, then looked out at the surging masses of mud on the field.


    ¡°It¡¯s hard to know what to make of you,¡± he said.


    ¡°Do you have to make anything of me?¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s something about you. You¡¯re the most alive person I¡¯ve ever met.¡±


    My nose wrinkled when I smiled.


    He went on, his voice barely louder than the sound of the rain, ¡°But sometimes you look really tired, and you¡¯ve got anemia bad enough you lose consciousness. Does that have anything to do with your hair?¡±


    My mind emptied. I don¡¯t know why my brain was gone for so long, but when it returned, it came back with this highly useful and pertinent thought:


    Huh!


    It had never occurred to me what my situation might look like to other people.


    ¡°You think I¡¯m sick?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Are you?¡±


    ¡°I used to be.¡± Before he had to go through the torture of trying to decide if it was okay to ask, I said, ¡°Leukemia. But I¡¯m good now.¡±


    After a moment, he nodded. ¡°That makes sense. Forgive me, Miss Cole. It wasn¡¯t my place to ask.¡±


    ¡°Oh, please.¡± I made a face as I waved away his concern. ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it.¡±


    I couldn¡¯t tell him, but I was actually glad he¡¯d said something. No one in their right mind would dare question the excuse ¡°I¡¯m recovering from cancer.¡± I couldn¡¯t believe I hadn¡¯t thought of it before! It must have been because I had no personal experience with it.


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    ¡°Is that why you seem so alive?¡± Turner asked. I couldn¡¯t tell if he was teasing me or not.


    I would have grinned either way. ¡°Well, there¡¯s nothing like meeting death to make you appreciate being alive.¡±


    And I actually kind of missed seeing his gormless, blank skull.


    I ought to send Big Jacky an emoji text, to let him know I¡¯m thinking about him.


    I wouldn¡¯t be there to enjoy his befuddlement, but Iset might get a kick out of it.


    I was idly watching the field, trying to figure out if Jacky would be home and whether or not he¡¯d be smart enough to take the text to Iset, when the accident happened. Turner saw it too. We both let out the same loud gasp.


    One of the boys without a scrimmage vest slid low, trying to tackle the ball away from the yellow team. The rain made the slide too easy. He slammed into his opponent¡¯s legs, one after the other. The kid¡¯s knee bent in a way no knee should ever bend. He collapsed on top of his opponent.


    I wonder if other people experience a moment when it really comes home to them that they¡¯ve taken on the mantle of a responsible adult. Mine was that day.


    One second.


    That¡¯s how long Turner and I waited to see if the boy could get up on his own. Then, without even looking at each other, we both sprinted onto the field.


    The ball was forgotten, lost somewhere offsides. The other two balls were ignored. Play had stopped when the rest of the students realized something serious had happened.


    As we got closer to the injured boy, I recognized a few of the students. Scott and Dustin, both in yellow, were standing at the edge of the crowd, trying to see what had happened without getting in the way. Wes and Eric, also on the yellow team, were on the ground, next to their injured teammate.


    The kid who had done the sliding tackle was standing close by, pale and frowning.


    ¡°Jason,¡± Wes said. ¡°Jason, how bad is it?¡±


    Jason, presumably the injured boy, couldn¡¯t answer. His face was white.


    Turner dropped to his knees beside him. I stood nearby, ready to make a run to the school.


    ¡°Give me some space, Osborn,¡± Turner said. ¡°We need to get him on his back.¡±


    Wes scooted away so Turner could work. Eric stood up and turned to the student who¡¯d done the sliding.


    ¡°What the fuck was that, Allen?¡± His voice boomed over the rain, over every other noise on the field.


    Allen¡¯s face went red. ¡°An accident.¡±


    ¡°What kind of a tosser would slide like that in the rain?¡± Eric took a step toward Allen.


    Turner was talking on his phone behind me. I stayed focused on the confrontation. Wes stood up and walked toward Eric.


    ¡°It was an accident,¡± Allen shouted.


    Wes tried to grab Eric¡¯s arm, but he wasn¡¯t fast enough. Eric advanced on Allen, chest out, talking loud and fast. I couldn¡¯t make out what he said. Two of Allen¡¯s teammates stepped up to his side to defend him.


    Eric didn¡¯t care. What were three shouting teenage boys compared to a wolfman? He kept marching forward, snarling words I couldn¡¯t hear, his movement hardly hampered by Wes¡¯s attempt to hold him back.


    Scott and Dustin jogged toward us. Wes had one hand on Eric¡¯s arm, the other on his back. He was shouting down Eric, shouting down the other boys, and shouting some more, in case anyone felt left out.


    My eyes were locked on the group, reading every face, every movement. It was tense, but everything I saw made me think it was going to be okay. The boys from the non-yellow team were inching away, even though they yelled and postured. Everyone was pulling on their own teammates, checking each other rather than raising a hand to the other team. A few more seconds and it would have been nothing but another yelling match.


    Seth Ivers walked up behind Eric and slammed into him, chest to back. There was enough force behind the assault to make Eric¡¯s head whip back as he lurched forward.


    The look of smugness, anger, and challenge on Ivers¡¯ face was enough to make my mouth go sour.


    Behind me, Turner yelled Ivers¡¯ name. No one heard him.


    Eric turned, his eyes wide with outrage and surprise. Wes had lost his grip when Ivers checked Eric, so the only thing holding Eric back was Eric. The thread of his patience was pulled to the breaking point. You could see the punch he wasn¡¯t throwing in how he placed his feet, and how his nostrils flared.


    I pushed against the surge of the group, trying to keep them away from Jason, yelling that they were going to step on him. The boys nearest me heard. They pushed too, trying to keep the vital space between them and the injured boy.


    The reverse tide shoved Eric closer to Ivers.


    Ivers¡¯ expression lost its smugness and anger. There was nothing but the wooden look of challenge that I remembered from every fight I¡¯d ever seen. The moment it appeared, Eric¡¯s expression changed to match it.


    Ivers¡¯ arms ignited. Everyone except Wes and Eric took a step back. Turner got to his feet, but it was too late; there was nothing he could yell that would get through to any of the three boys.


    ¡°Go ahead,¡± Ivers yelled at Eric. ¡°Start something!¡±


    Eric stepped forward, ignoring the flames.


    Wes grabbed Eric and yanked him back. ¡°What the hell, Ivers!¡± His voice cracked from the intensity of his scream. ¡°You think you can tell me you¡¯re not doing that on purpose? You think that I¡¯ll believe you?¡±


    ¡°This is my power, Osborn, not yours!¡±


    ¡°And this is my power!¡± Wes¡¯s body lit up. The fire started in his fingers and rolled from them, up his arms, across his chest and head, and down his legs. ¡°If you want to play that game, I¡¯ll play!¡±


    But Wes wasn¡¯t the only one with powers. There were one hundred and three psychics at Setlan on Lee. How many of them were on the field?


    The rain stopped falling. The drops hung in the air, suspended¡ªa million tiny testaments to the stress of the telekinetics. The balls rose until they hovered chest-high, spinning. A trill of electricity buzzed over my wet hands and face. Time stretched away, and a weightless tension grew in my chest. It felt like the moment the roller coaster starts to descend.


    Everyone else stepped back. I could get through.


    I arrived as Ivers took a step toward Wes, shoulder cocked back and his fist raised. I put myself between them, facing Ivers, and glared.


    I was glaring up. The kid was at least five inches taller than me. I couldn¡¯t have fought him even before he had the incendiary advantage¡ªbut I wasn¡¯t powerless either.


    The whole world stopped to watch me. Including Ivers.


    ¡°Go on,¡± I whispered in the eerie silence. My voice was mocking and light. ¡°Go ahead and hit me. See what happens.¡±


    Dozens of raindrops floated between us, each one showing a distorted reflection of our faces. His¡ªstunned, confused¡ªand mine¡ªserene.


    I raised an eyebrow. Having worked with Darius Vasil, I knew what a devastating move it could be.


    ¡°I won¡¯t defend myself,¡± I said. ¡°Not like I could.¡± I lowered my voice even further. ¡°If it¡¯s that important to you¡­¡±


    Ivers¡¯ flames dwindled and disappeared. He took a step back.


    The weightlessness in my chest vanished. The soccer balls rediscovered gravity. There was the plat of the rain hitting the ground all at once. That sudden shower dropping on my hood felt like a head pat. It was all right. We could breathe again.


    A second later, Christopher Norris came running onto the field with a first-aid kit, another teacher, and a plastic stretcher. Turner organized the boys to help carry Jason up to the building. When that was done, he stepped back to let Norris do his work.


    He glanced toward me as he did, but now that I knew Jason would be taken care of, I had other things to worry about.


    I turned.


    All four of the musketeers were behind me. Wes was at the front of the group. The sleeves of his shirt were burnt up to his biceps and stunk of singed polyester. I picked off some of the tiny, dangling bits of charred thread.


    ¡°Yeah,¡± he said. ¡°That wasn¡¯t my best example of control.¡±


    I hummed.


    ¡°That was pretty cool, Emerra,¡± Scott said.


    I grinned. ¡°I know, right?¡±


    At five-foot-five, sub-one-hundred pounds, I had stopped the fight. Fainting or not, that made me a hero.


    I motioned for Scott and Wes to step aside so I could get to Eric. He glowered as I stood next to him.


    ¡°Are you going to lecture me?¡± he said.


    ¡°Excuse me?¡± I said. ¡°Do I look like a teacher? But I would like to see your arm.¡±


    He didn¡¯t move.


    ¡°The one that Wes was holding when he lit up,¡± I added, in case he needed clarification.


    Wes grimaced.


    Eric grudgingly put his arm forward. He was wearing a short-sleeve workout shirt. The back of his sleeve had been warped by the heat. And, yes, there, on his arm, above his elbow, was a burn.


    Dustin, Wes, and Scott closed in so people wouldn¡¯t see what we were doing.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± Wes muttered to Eric. ¡°I wasn¡¯t thinking.¡±


    ¡°None of us were thinking,¡± Eric said.


    ¡°This is going to blister soon,¡± I said. ¡°We need to cool it down or it can get worse.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not going to Norris.¡±


    ¡°How stubborn are you going to be about this?¡±


    ¡°Oh,¡± Scott said, ¡°One-hundred percent.¡± He closed one eye and held up the okay hand sign. ¡°Guaranteed.¡±


    I sighed. ¡°Come on.¡±


    The four boys followed me toward the dining hall.


    ¡°Where are we going?¡± Eric asked.


    ¡°To the only other place in this school that¡¯s going to be able to treat your burn.¡±

 Chapter 32 - Treating the Burn

    The head chef was a lovely, energetic, middle-aged woman who couldn¡¯t have been more excited to find another female hanging around the place. When she heard my voice, she stopped what she was doing, even though she and her assistants were slaving away to make sure dinner was ready on time, and came over to greet me. The boys¡¯ presence was accepted without comment, despite the fact they weren¡¯t supposed to be there. Was there anything she could do for me? Anything at all, love?


    I started out by thanking her for all the hard work she put into the food. That cemented our eternal bond of sisterhood.


    Then I asked if she had a first-aid kit I could use. She did, and she didn¡¯t ask why I came to her instead of Norris.


    She took us to the staff room off the main kitchen and pointed out the first-aid kit. There was a sink in the room she said I could use to wash up.


    I thanked her. The boys thanked her.


    ¡°And may I say,¡± Wes declared, ¡°your apple crumble is always a treat.¡±


    ¡°Oh!¡± Her eyes went to me. ¡°We have a charmer here, don¡¯t we?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m afraid it¡¯s a pretty bad case,¡± I admitted.


    ¡°We think it¡¯s terminal,¡± Scott added.


    The cook returned to work. I had Eric take off his shirt and start running some cool water over the burn. Wes dragged over a chair so Eric could kneel on the seat rather than stand the whole time. I put the first-aid kit down on the table in the center of the room and opened it. It was fully stocked, and it even had some hydrogel pads.


    ¡°Nice!¡± I said, pulling out the largest one.


    Scott was beside me, poking around the kit.


    ¡°How come you know so much about treating burns?¡± he asked.


    His question ran a hand over the still water of my emotions. Ripples washed up against old wounds, making them vibrate.


    How old had I been? Six? Seven? I had no idea. I tried so hard to forget those years, the only memories left were scraps. I remembered how large the pot looked in my small hands, humming and talking to myself in the empty apartment, struggling with the weight of the water. It didn¡¯t help that I tried to put off cooking until I was almost faint from hunger. I remembered being slightly afraid of the kitchen. That made sense, considering how often I managed to hurt myself there.


    ¡°I cooked a lot as a child.¡± I tried to make it sound offhand. ¡°I¡¯ve had more than my fair share of burns.¡±


    After ten minutes of rinsing the burn, Eric said he was done¡ªno, he wouldn¡¯t do twenty minutes, I could glare all I wanted.


    I wondered what real doctors did with stubborn patients.


    Since I wasn¡¯t a real doctor, I decided not to fight him. I patted the burn dry and read the instructions printed on the back of the hydrogel¡¯s package.


    ¡°Thank you for stopping the fight,¡± Wes said.


    I glanced up. He was probably trying to look casual, but his crossed arms were a little too stiff, and he wouldn¡¯t look at me.


    ¡°I thought that you psychics could get away with anything,¡± I teased.


    My attempt to lighten the mood didn¡¯t merely fail¡ªit backfired. Wes frowned and turned away. Scott shook his head, and Dustin¡¯s normally stoic expression took on an edge of frustration and sadness.


    My eyes moved between them, trying to figure out what was wrong.


    Eric said, ¡°It¡¯s me.¡±


    His voice was hard and loud, like he was trying to sound tough.


    ¡°They aren¡¯t saying it, but it¡¯s me. I¡¯m the one that would have gotten in trouble.¡±


    ¡°You think Wuller would have kicked you out?¡± I asked.


    ¡°I would have been sent back to the institution.¡±


    I thought I knew, but I asked anyway: ¡°What kind of institution?¡±


    ¡°A borstal. It¡¯s¡ªit¡¯s a prison. For kids.¡±


    ¡°Ah.¡± I positioned the moist side of the pad over the burn and gently pressed it against Eric¡¯s skin. He didn¡¯t even wince. I hummed, then said, ¡°You strike me as a fighter. Am I right? They¡¯ll call it assault, of course.¡±


    I removed the top liner and picked up a roll of cohesive wrap to cover the pad. When I turned back, Eric was watching me, a slight smile on his face.


    ¡°Yeah,¡± he said.


    ¡°Those people you beat up¡ªdid they deserve it?¡±


    His smile disappeared. ¡°Some of them. The rest of them were other fighters.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s okay. I know how that goes.¡±


    ¡°You ¡®know how that goes?¡¯¡± Scott echoed.


    Being intent on my work meant my answer came slow. ¡°Sometimes life makes you want to scream, and kick, and fight. When you meet other fighters, you fight.¡± I stopped long enough to wink at Eric. ¡°It¡¯s as natural as falling in love.¡±


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    He let out a huff of laughter. ¡°That¡¯s it. Exactly.¡±


    ¡°Were you in a gang, or were you freelance?¡±


    ¡°Eric? In a gang?¡± Scott smiled. ¡°Who¡¯d put up with him?¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s in our gang, isn¡¯t he?¡± Dustin said, adding his smile to the collection.


    Eric put his hand to his head. ¡°Oh god. I¡¯ve joined the lamest gang in the world.¡±


    Wes dropped a hand on his shoulder. ¡°And you¡¯ll never escape.¡±


    ¡°Emerra,¡± Scott said, ¡°you don¡¯t seem all that¡­¡± He moved his hands around, trying to shape the right word. ¡°¡­surprised. Did you know?¡±


    ¡°Come on, guys. Give me some credit.¡± I finished wrapping the pad, snipped off the roll, and mushed the end against the rest of the bandage. ¡°Ivers called him a last-chance boy, and I¡¯ve been warned that some of the students here have interesting backgrounds.¡±


    ¡°Only some of us?¡± Wes said.


    ¡°I thought it was most of us,¡± Eric said as he put his shirt back on.


    I started packing up the kit and gathering up the scraps. ¡°I take it an institution sent you here?¡±


    ¡°If I stay out of trouble and keep my grades up, they¡¯ll count my time here as part of my sentence. After a review, I¡¯ll be free when I¡¯m eighteen.¡±


    ¡°How¡¯s that going?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯d be easier without Ivers around.¡±


    I shut the kit, straightened up, and put my hand on his arm. ¡°You did good, Eric. I was watching. I saw you holding back. That was impressive¡ªespecially considering what Ivers did.¡±


    ¡°I shouldn¡¯t have lost my temper with Allen.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s fair. But losing your temper is one of those forgivable mistakes.¡±


    We returned the first-aid kit to the cook with another helping of gratitude, then headed to the dorms. The boys needed to change before dinner.


    Eric walked beside me.


    As we passed through the dining room, he said, ¡°Are you a fighter?¡±


    I scoffed. ¡°Not me. I¡¯m more of a crier. But I¡¯ve known a few fighters. They were kind enough to explain it to me.¡±


    ¡°It sounds like you had some interesting friends,¡± Scott observed.


    Were we really talking about my past twice in one day? I felt like I was in the cross-hairs of a long-range weapon. Maybe if I didn¡¯t move¡­


    But that never worked.


    I shrugged. ¡°I went to a bunch of different schools, so I met a lot of people. You start chatting to the person in the seat beside you, and the next thing you know, you¡¯ve learned everything you ever wanted to know about worm farms.¡±


    Scott bumped against Wes. ¡°She¡¯s a school hopper! Just like you!¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not¡ª¡± Wes sighed. ¡°I¡¯m not a school hopper.¡±


    ¡°You had four different secondary schools,¡± Eric said.


    ¡°Is that like a high school?¡± I asked Dustin.


    ¡°It¡¯s hard to compare them,¡± he said. ¡°Our system¡¯s more complex, and it¡¯s worse with Wes because he went to several different kinds of schools for his secondary years.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s right!¡± Scott pointed at Wes. ¡°You started out at a public school, didn¡¯t you?¡±


    He said it so accusingly, I felt myself grow defensive.


    ¡°I went to a public school,¡± I said.


    Scott, Wes, and Eric turned to look at me. Their expressions were a weird mix of awe, surprise, and confusion.


    Dustin chuckled.


    ¡°What am I missing?¡± I asked.


    ¡°You¡¯ve got it wrong.¡± Dustin nodded to his friends. ¡°When they say ¡®public,¡¯ you need to think ¡®private.¡¯¡± To them, he said, ¡°Public schools in America are the state-funded schools that most kids go to.¡±


    I turned to Wes, ¡°You went to one of those fancy schools?¡±


    ¡°It wasn¡¯t fancy,¡± Wes said. ¡°It was one of the new ones. It was supposed to turn out brilliant mathematicians and scientists, and I only got in because of my dad¡¯s connections.¡±


    ¡°And how long did that last?¡± Dustin said with a smirk.


    ¡°I was asked to leave after two terms. They thought I would be ¡®happier elsewhere.¡¯¡±


    Wes sounded almost proud of the fact.


    ¡°You flunked out, didn¡¯t you?¡± I said.


    ¡°That¡¯s a very American way of putting it, but yes. After that, my old man kept moving me from one boarding school to another, trying to find one where I wouldn¡¯t fail every class. He threatened to send me here if I didn¡¯t get my act together.¡±


    ¡°And here you are,¡± I said, my voice full of admiration.


    ¡°Never bend in a battle of wills!¡±


    ¡°Did your father teach you that?¡±


    ¡°He did, actually.¡± Wes grinned. ¡°You¡¯d think a man as smart as him would have seen the problem with teaching that to his son.¡±


    ¡°But I thought you said you liked it here.¡±


    ¡°I do, and we must never, under any circumstances, let my dad know.¡±


    I looked around Wes so I could see Scott. ¡°What about you?¡±


    The cutie brushed his nose with his finger and murmured, ¡°Uh, I¡¯m here for my mum.¡±


    ¡°How so?¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s single, so she works a lot, and I needed a little extra help preparing for my exams¡ª¡±


    ¡°Only a little?¡± Wes teased.


    Scott said, ¡°I¡¯d take that from anyone but you.¡± He turned back to me. ¡°She thought a boarding school might help.¡±


    ¡°Did it?¡± I asked.


    His face morphed through a few expressions before settling on a mix between pleased and puzzled.


    ¡°I guess? It used to be, when I got home from school, I¡¯d jump online and do nothing but play games. You can¡¯t do that here. It freed up a lot of time for studying.¡± He added a skip to his next step. ¡°I got my GCSEs! Thank you, Dustin!¡±


    Dustin¡¯s cheek pulled back in a slight smile, but he didn¡¯t say anything.


    ¡°What about you, Dustin?¡± I asked.


    Eric¡¯s, Wes¡¯s, and Scott¡¯s footsteps slowed. Their expressions grew serious.


    Dustin shrugged.


    I said, ¡°Weren¡¯t you at one of those fancy schools that teach Greek and Latin?¡±


    ¡°I was.¡± His voice was quiet. ¡°I couldn¡¯t handle it.¡±


    My head flinched back as I tried to process that idea. ¡°You mean the studying?¡±


    ¡°Those schools are a lot of pressure,¡± Scott said.


    ¡°They¡¯ll crush you,¡± Wes added. ¡°Everyone has to be the best.¡±


    My eyes moved from them, to Dustin. Based on how quickly and forcefully they¡¯d spoken, and how red Dustin¡¯s cheeks were, I assumed there was more to the story, but he didn¡¯t want to talk about it.


    I could one hundred percent empathize with that feeling.


    ¡°Okay,¡± I said. ¡°How did you wind up at Setlan on Lee?¡±


    ¡°My parents wanted me to try it.¡±


    ¡°Do you like it better here?¡±


    He shrugged again.


    ¡°You love it here,¡± Wes insisted.


    Scott threw his skinny arms around Dustin¡¯s entire chest, capturing at least one arm in the process. ¡°You have to love it here! What would we do without you?¡±


    ¡°All right! I love it here! God, just¡ªstop.¡± He had to pry Scott¡¯s arms off, but he smiled as he did.


    Eric laughed.


    We reached the great hall. The boys were headed for the back wing, and since I was up the stairs, that meant we¡¯d have to part ways until dinner. I turned to wave goodbye but froze as my eyes were drawn down the hall.


    The clouds outside were thick enough, I could see a dim reflection in the huge window at the far end of the hall.


    I started toward the window.


    The boys must have followed me. I heard their voices behind me, but I didn¡¯t look away from the window to check.


    ¡°Is she allowed to be here?¡± Scott asked.


    ¡°You think I know?¡± Eric said.


    The darkness. The two lines of doors broken up by the repeating stone arches.


    Wes said over my shoulder, ¡°Um, Emerra, these are the dorms.¡±


    ¡°I know this hall,¡± I said, walking faster.


    There were rugs, but the floor under them was the same.


    ¡°Is she going to have another panic attack?¡± Scott asked.


    ¡°Shut up, Scott,¡± Eric grumbled.


    ¡°Are you sure you know this hall?¡± Wes asked. ¡°It¡¯s not like I¡¯d ever say anything, but I¡¯m pretty sure you¡¯re not supposed to be here.¡±


    I was close enough now, I could see her. My pace slowed. I kept my head high as I finished walking toward the window. I stopped seven feet away and stared.


    There was a woman in the window. Me. My reflection. It was different from the woman I had seen before¡ªshe had hair, and I was wearing clothes¡ªbut our imperfect reflections had enough in common, I recognized the scene. This was the window from my dream. This was the exact same hall.


    ¡°Emerra?¡± Dustin said.


    ¡°What is going on here?¡± I whispered.

 Chapter 33 - It Has to Mean Something

    That evening, when Conrad and I were back in our rooms, I told him about the hall. He didn¡¯t seem impressed.


    I stopped my erratic pacing and turned to face the couch where he was sitting. ¡°Don¡¯t you get what this means?¡± I cried.


    He thought about it for a second.


    ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°Well¡­!¡± I huffed. ¡°Neither do I!¡± I dropped onto the couch next to him. ¡°But it¡¯s got to mean something, right?¡±


    ¡°I think it could mean something. I don¡¯t think it necessarily has to.¡±


    ¡°Huh?¡±


    ¡°Isn¡¯t it normal for people to dream about places they¡¯ve been? I¡¯m no seer, but I¡¯ve had dreams about this building.¡±


    ¡°But how could I have a dream about a hall I¡¯ve never been down?¡±


    ¡°A lot of the halls look alike. Especially the same hall on different floors.¡±


    ¡°But the second floor¡ªfirst floor?¡± I put my hands up by my head, fingers spread wide. ¡°Whatever! That floor has dorms too.¡±


    ¡°The third floor doesn¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°I haven¡¯t been in the back wing on the third floor.¡±


    ¡°You have.¡±


    I looked up at Conrad. His mellow voice had carried a simple, unbending confidence. He sounded so sure of himself, I felt inclined to believe him. But how could he know more about where I¡¯d been than I did?


    Besides the dozens of times I¡¯d been lost.


    ¡°How long were you following me, Conrad?¡±


    The wolfman turned his head, and his ears did this weird limbo where they sunk down and back for a second. I needed to start recording them. Maybe I could put together a study on how to read his emotions.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± he mumbled.


    ¡°About what?¡±


    ¡°About following you.¡± His ears dipped again. I recognized that one; he was embarrassed. ¡°I promise, I wasn¡¯t stalking you.¡±


    ¡°Are you sure you weren¡¯t? Because if I can go around saying I was stalked by an apex predator, my life would sound a lot more exciting.¡±


    ¡°Do you need your life to sound more exciting?¡±


    ¡°That¡ªuh¡­hmmm. You raise a good point.¡±


    ¡°And aren¡¯t humans considered an apex predator?¡±


    I let out a psssh sound. ¡°I¡¯m not. People who think like that don¡¯t live with a wolfman and a vampire. You know what¡ªlet¡¯s go ask a polar bear.¡±


    While he was shaking his head, I caught a glimpse of the tiny smile at the edge of his muzzle.


    ¡°Anyway,¡± I said. ¡°You don¡¯t have to apologize. Darius already took all the credit for having me followed.¡± My stomach sank. ¡°Considering everything, it¡¯s hard to blame him.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re ashamed?¡±


    My head rose. ¡°Did you smell that?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, but I don¡¯t get it. Why would you feel ashamed?¡± There was a second of silence, then he added, ¡°Getting mad isn¡¯t going to make my nose stop working.¡±


    I was sitting right next to him, but I still managed to lunge toward him. Call it aggressive leaning. ¡°Conrad! You can smell the difference between men and women, can¡¯t you?¡±


    ¡°Some of the time. Not always. Why?¡±


    ¡°You can look for her!¡±


    ¡°Who?¡±


    ¡°The woman in the hall!¡± I grabbed his shirt sleeve with both hands. ¡°The woman from my dream! If she¡¯s here, you should be able to smell her out.¡±


    ¡°Whoa! Calm down.¡±


    ¡°They¡¯re hurting her!¡±


    He reached across his chest. His one hand was big enough to cover both of mine. ¡°Emerra, it¡¯s okay. Take a second, and let¡¯s think about this. Will you listen?¡±


    I scowled, but I also nodded. I wasn¡¯t in the mood for thinking or listening, but I could recognize common sense when someone smacked me over the head with it.


    Conrad said, ¡°You¡¯re saying that Wuller, or someone else, is hiding a woman at this school and systematically torturing her by forcing her to walk down the halls naked while the students watch¡ª¡±


    ¡°They weren¡¯t students!¡±


    The objection blurted out of my mouth before I could process it. When I heard myself, I stopped.


    ¡°If they weren¡¯t students, who were they?¡± Conrad asked.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡±


    ¡°Did you recognize any of the teachers? Anyone else?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± I muttered. ¡°At least, I don¡¯t think so.¡±


    ¡°And none of your dreams have been repeats?¡±


    ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°Do you know if you¡¯re the same person in all of your dreams?¡±


    A headache slid its long fingers into my brain as I tried to remember the dreams. ¡°I don¡¯t know, but I don¡¯t think so.¡±


    Conrad watched me, waiting for some kind of explanation.


    ¡°I felt different,¡± I said. ¡°That woman, she had a heart of¡­sadness? Like, she was proud and frustrated, but she was deep, like a sad painting. Ugh! I don¡¯t know how to explain.¡±


    And, of course, Conrad laughed at me.


    Or, rather, he smiled¡­but irritatingly.


    ¡°It¡¯s okay, Mera. I think I get it. Go on.¡±


    ¡°But when I was cleaning up the blood¡ª¡±


    ¡°The blood?¡±


    That¡¯s right. I hadn¡¯t told him about that dream.


    His eyes softened as I talked. When I finished, he said, ¡°That¡¯s a hell of a dream.¡±


    ¡°I know. But that¡¯s not important! What¡¯s important is that in that dream, my heart was scared, all the way to its core. I don¡¯t think the same person could feel that different.¡±


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    Conrad sighed. ¡°Emerra, I¡¯ve been everywhere in this school¡ª¡±


    ¡°Everywhere?¡±


    ¡°Every single room. I finished this afternoon. There are no porcelain tables, and if there had been a room with that much blood, I guarantee I would have smelled it.¡±


    ¡°Even if they¡¯d cleaned it?¡±


    ¡°Few people can clean well enough that I would miss it. Even then, I would have smelled the cleaners they used.¡±


    ¡°Okay, but that dream isn¡¯t the one I¡¯m worried about.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re worried about the woman because you think you found the hall you saw in your dreams.¡±


    ¡°Yes!¡±


    ¡°In the past week, only two women have been in this school for longer than an hour.¡±


    ¡°Only¡­¡± My voice trailed off.


    ¡°Only two. There¡¯s you, and there¡¯s one that works in the kitchen.¡±


    ¡°Mrs. Hart?¡±


    No wonder she¡¯d been so excited to meet me.


    ¡°Is she the woman you saw in your dream?¡± Conrad asked.


    Mrs. Hart was at least fifteen years older than the woman I¡¯d seen in the window, and she seemed too cheerful to be carrying around that kind of a broken heart.


    ¡°No,¡± I said.


    ¡°It¡¯s possible I missed something,¡± Conrad said, ¡°but Darius and I have been looking into your dreams¡ª¡±


    ¡°Both of you?¡±


    The wolfman paused. ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°But¡­¡±


    I knew I wanted to say something, but I didn¡¯t know what. My emotions were tangled up and confused. A part of me was touched that they were taking me seriously, but another part of me felt¡­almost bad.


    ¡°We¡¯re supposed to be figuring out what¡¯s happening to the boys,¡± I said. ¡°My dreams don¡¯t have anything to do with that. Aren¡¯t we wasting time?¡±


    Conrad chuffed. ¡°Only an idiot ignores a seer. We were already investigating the school¡ªadding a few extra questions and checking the windows for bars wasn¡¯t a big deal. Besides, we can¡¯t be sure your dreams don¡¯t have anything to do with it.¡±


    That made some kind of sense. My guilt faded.


    ¡°And you didn¡¯t find anything?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Nothing.¡±


    ¡°Okay. That¡¯s¡­that¡¯s good.¡±


    ¡°Are you sure?¡±


    ¡°Of course I¡¯m sure! Why wouldn¡¯t it be good? I don¡¯t want these dreams to be real.¡±


    ¡°You seem uneasy.¡±


    ¡°You mean I smell uneasy.¡±


    ¡°Well, yeah.¡±


    ¡°Sucks to be you! I can¡¯t turn off whatever glands you¡¯re smelling any more than you can turn off your nose.¡± I booped the end of his snout. ¡°Let me know if they make an emotional deodorant.¡±


    Conrad has this fantastic expression where the edge of his lips lift by a micron, he lowers his fluffy eyelids, and he gazes at me with a flat expression. It¡¯s the look of a wolfman choosing to be amused because it isn¡¯t worth his energy to be annoyed.


    I¡¯d probably annoy him less if I wasn¡¯t so fond of that expression.


    ¡°Am I bothering you yet?¡± I asked.


    ¡°I¡¯ll keep you informed. How about some anime before bed?¡±


    I bumped the side of my head against his shoulder, saying, as I gazed up at him, ¡°You¡¯re my all-time favorite wolfman, Conrad.¡±


    His deadpan response was ¡°Glad to hear it.¡±


    It¡¯s possible he might have found the compliment more meaningful if I¡¯d known even one other wolfman.


    We only got through two episodes before I started nodding off. Conrad had me lie down and covered me with the blankets. I think I was asleep before he made it back to the bedroom.


    I fought each step of the way.


    My arms were bound, so I threw myself side to side¡ªsuddenly stopping, or lunging forward¡ªtrying to rip free from the six hands that held me. My jerking movements made the room blur. The teal-colored tiles became smears. The fixtures on the walls were blotches. The people watching were edgeless shapes and nonsensical voices.


    Two I could have managed. Not three.


    Why me? Why this?


    My heart screamed with panic, fueling my will to fight.


    I managed to tear myself away from two of them. When I felt the third grab my arms, I twisted out of his grip and fell.


    I couldn¡¯t catch myself. My shoulder hit first. The impact boomed through my body. My head hit next. A sharp crack, like a stone whip.


    I laid there, whimpering¡ªall my fight blown out by the first hit, a cold awareness snapped into my brain by the second.


    I was done. They¡¯d won. They always won.


    My eyes took in the tiles around the floor drain in front of me. I noticed them every time they dragged me in, but I had never been so close to them. Tiny, goldenrod yellow tiles were set in a pattern around the drain. A bright sunburst, shining out from the dark teal. Did they think it would be cheerful? It wasn¡¯t. The yellow looked sick. It made the black drain in the center stand out, turning it into the focus. It looked like a silent witness told to stand there and smile, to mutely accept everything that washed over it.


    And it did.


    I was lifted from the ground. I glared at the black drain as I was pulled away. My legs hit the side of the tub. I was plunged into the icy water.


    I tried to sit up¡ªtried to throw myself upright¡ªrejecting sleep as violently as I could, but my right hand scraped down the back couch cushion while my left hand sank through the air, seeking a surface that wasn¡¯t there. I rolled off the couch and hit the floor on my knees.


    I grit my teeth, trying to hold back whatever horrible sound was building up in my chest.


    It was only a dream!


    Only a dream.


    It didn¡¯t matter.


    The pressure in my chest grew. It came out as a stifled moan filled with all my frustration, sadness, and fear. It felt so good to let it out, I turned my face into the sofa so I could do it again, louder. The cushion muffled the sound. Maybe it would be quiet enough Conrad could sleep through it.


    I was still alternating between gasping sobs and muffled screams when I felt a hand on my shoulder. I didn¡¯t jump. I must have sensed he was there. Either that, or I was too exhausted to be surprised.


    ¡°Come on,¡± Conrad said. ¡°Come here.¡±


    He helped me to my feet and pulled me into a hug. I wrapped my arms around him. We stayed there for almost a minute as the last of the groans and the sobs escaped. When I was done, I turned my head so I could rest it on his chest, and I stood there, trying to relax while letting out the occasional sniff or hiccup.


    As the horror and grief dimmed, my embarrassment got the chance to make itself heard.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry I woke you,¡± I grumbled into his shirt.


    ¡°Do you feel better now?¡± he asked.


    I took a deep breath. My nose filled with the weird scent of his fur.


    ¡°Mostly,¡± I said. ¡°But I¡¯m really¡ª¡± My voice choked up. I had to swallow before I could try again. It still came out breathy. ¡°I¡¯m really sorry I woke you up.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it.¡±


    God bless my unflappable wolf-boy. His monotone statement made it sound like not-a-big-deal. I needed it to not be a big deal.


    We let go of each other. I plopped down on the couch and started gathering up my blankets. Conrad walked over to the sideboard that held the electric kettle. Until that moment, it had been ignored. Darius would probably volunteer to eat raw garlic before he¡¯d be willing to drink instant coffee.


    ¡°It¡¯s five-fifteen,¡± Conrad said. ¡°Too early for caffeine, but they have some chamomile tea. Would you like some?¡±


    I¡¯d never had chamomile tea. I didn¡¯t even know what chamomile was. But if I said yes, Conrad would have to stick around.


    ¡°That sounds perfect,¡± I said.


    He nodded and went to fill up the kettle in the bathroom sink.


    When he came back, I was sitting with my knees up at my chest, gazing at the shimmering curtain of magic.


    ¡°No one outside the room could hear me, right?¡± I said.


    ¡°You weren¡¯t that loud.¡± Conrad put the kettle on the base and pressed a few buttons. ¡°I have good hearing.¡±


    ¡°Okay.¡±


    ¡°That dream seemed worse than the others.¡±


    ¡°No, it just¡­overlapped.¡±


    The wolfman turned and leaned back on the sideboard so he could see me. ¡°Overlapped?¡±


    With the other nightmares, I¡¯d felt like I was borrowing the fear from someone else, but when they had dunked me into that freezing water, arms bound, it woke up all my own panic and added it to the rest.


    ¡°I have problems with water at the moment,¡± I said. ¡°Hey! Super-nose! You have to nag me if I stop bathing. It¡¯s in your best interest as well as mine.¡±


    That got a half smile from him. ¡°I¡¯ll see what I can do.¡±


    He turned back to the sideboard and started preparing the cup and tea bag.


    I watched him as he worked.


    ¡°Conrad.¡±


    ¡°Yeah?¡± he said without turning around.


    ¡°I have a favor to ask.¡±


    He stopped what he was doing and looked at me. ¡°What kind of favor?¡±


    ¡°Would you¡­would you come with me? I want to go somewhere.¡± I rushed to add, ¡°I swear I won¡¯t ask this a lot. I¡¯m usually fine on my own.¡±


    ¡°Wouldn¡¯t you rather go with those boys you¡¯re always hanging out with?¡±


    The ground dropped out from under me. I was the coyote hanging in thin air before he looks at the cartoon desert, a thousand miles down. Conrad hadn¡¯t sounded bitter, but it was such a crazy question, I didn¡¯t know how to react.


    ¡°What?¡± I said.


    ¡°Osborn. And the others.¡±


    ¡°What about them?¡±


    ¡°If you¡¯d rather go with them¡ª¡±


    ¡°Why on earth would I rather go with them than you?¡±


    He buried his hands in his pajama pockets and shrugged. He kept his eyes on the rug, as he said, ¡°I thought you might prefer being around humans.¡±


    My eyes narrowed. ¡°Is this from when you thought I was avoiding you?¡±


    Now he looked up. ¡°You were avoiding me.¡±


    ¡°Okay. True. That was me being stupid, but I was doing it because I thought I might be bothering you, remember?¡ªnot because I like them more than I like you.¡±


    ¡°They¡¯re your kind, Emerra. People like to be around their people. It¡¯s not unreasonable.¡±


    As far as I was concerned, anyone who was willing to spend eight bucks so I could lean against their fluffy arm and watch anime two nights in a row was definitely my people. But maybe it didn¡¯t matter to him like it did to me.


    ¡°Were you jealous?¡± I asked with perfect, wide-eyed innocence.


    That was another big step toward becoming a certifiable villain. I grinned when Conrad¡¯s ears started wiggling around in embarrassment.


    ¡°Where do you want to go?¡± he said. ¡°And when?¡±


    ¡°Right now. Before I chicken out. I want to go back to the basement where I had my panic attack. There¡¯s something I have to check.¡±


    He watched me for a second, then turned toward the bedroom. ¡°Give me a minute to get dressed.¡±

 Chapter 34 - Not a Horror Movie

    The lights of our phones glared off the shiny yellow warning tape. It was no longer across the door. The strips were dangling from one side. I glanced at Conrad.


    ¡°We weren¡¯t worried about the tape,¡± he said.


    I turned back to the door. ¡°No one else seems to be worried about it either.¡±


    When I reached for the door handle, I wasn¡¯t surprised to find that my hand was trembling. We found the switch that went to the light in the hall and turned it on. It was a meager comfort, but I was willing to take anything I could get.


    At the bottom of the stairs, I walked toward the first door on the right. Conrad was a step behind me.


    ¡°What are you looking for, Mera?¡±


    ¡°I want to get a better look at the room I was in.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t really get the chance to last time.¡± I opened the door. ¡°Watch it. They put a step here to trip the unwary. And everybody else.¡±


    ¡°What do you think you might find?¡±


    I stopped with my first foot on the raised floor. ¡°You¡¯ve been through this room, right?¡±


    ¡°Yeah.¡±


    ¡°Aren¡¯t you going to tell me that we¡¯re wasting time and you didn¡¯t find anything?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t have your eyes.¡±


    ¡°Oh.¡±


    Still, I hesitated. Conrad relaxed into his stance, put the hand that wasn¡¯t holding his phone across his chest to rest it on his bicep, and smiled¡ªsmiled like a wolfman with all the time in the world.


    ¡°Are you sure you don¡¯t want to tell me it¡¯s useless?¡± I prompted.


    ¡°Whenever you¡¯re ready.¡±


    ¡°This might be easier if I had something to rebel against.¡±


    ¡°No, stop,¡± he droned in perfect monotone. ¡°Don¡¯t do it.¡±


    ¡°Thank you. I appreciate that.¡±


    I turned back, took a deep breath, and dug to the roots of my courage. Then I stepped into the dreaded room.


    My hands were shaking so bad, I worried I¡¯d drop my phone. I waited, heart-pounding, for the room to start swimming again. For a second, my light-headedness made it sway, but I took a step back, toward Conrad, and it stopped. There are few things in the world more reassuring than a colossal wolfman standing right behind you. Nothing was going to shake him.


    ¡°You okay?¡± Conrad asked.


    ¡°I think so,¡± I said. ¡°Just, stay close by.¡±


    I walked around the entire room, casting the light from my phone into every corner and across every wall.


    It was a large, empty room. That was all. No matter where I aimed the light, it revealed plain, beige-white walls or cheap, engineered hardwood flooring. As the boringness sank in, I felt myself getting more and more irritated.


    ¡°There¡¯s nothing,¡± I said.


    ¡°What did you think you would see?¡±


    I shrugged.


    ¡°I¡¯ve asked you that twice now,¡± Conrad said. ¡°Is there a reason you don¡¯t want to answer me?¡±


    There was. I didn¡¯t want him to know I was being stupid.


    He went on, ¡°It must have been important. I know it wasn¡¯t easy for you to come back here.¡±


    Cool. I guess that meant I was being stupid and brave. Funny how often those two things seemed to go hand-in-hand.


    But it was five-forty in the morning, and Conrad had come along without complaint. The least I could do was answer his question.


    ¡°I was looking for water,¡± I said.


    He didn¡¯t say anything.


    Already in stupid mode, I interpreted that as a request for more information. ¡°That nightmare I just had¡ªthere was a lot of water. I figured there was only one place in the whole school that made me feel that panicky, so if I was dreaming about the school, then it would have to be this room. But there¡¯s no water.¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s water everywhere,¡± Conrad said.


    We stared at each other.


    ¡°Huh?¡±


    He lifted his nose. ¡°There are old pipes in the wall, stale water that¡¯s gone bad¡ªthere¡¯s water damage everywhere. The mold is choking. I thought that¡¯s why this place was condemned.¡±


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    I raised my nose and sniffed. Another brilliant moment. Did I think I would be able to out-smell a wolfman? The guy knew what surprise smelled like!


    There was a mustiness in the room, but I had thought it was because we were in the basement.


    Conrad¡¯s nostrils flexed. He turned his head toward the center of the room.


    ¡°And that god-awful smell,¡± he grumbled.


    I stepped closer and grabbed onto his shirt sleeve. ¡°What is it?¡±


    ¡°Putrid.¡± He walked to the center of the room and put one knee on the floor. His hand moved over the fake hardwood. ¡°It¡¯s coming from under here.¡±


    ¡°Ohno, ohno, ohgeez.¡± I skip-ran the few steps it took to get to Conrad, squatted down, and cowered by his side, trying to look everywhere in the room at once.


    ¡°Did you see something?¡± His voice was sharp.


    ¡°We¡¯re in a horror movie, and I¡¯m the stupid one!¡±


    Conrad doesn¡¯t often laugh out loud unless it¡¯s one of his brief chuffs. This time his chuckle went on for a while. It was embarrassing, but I couldn¡¯t help feeling a little pleased too.


    ¡°It¡¯s all right, Mera.¡± He put his arm around my shoulders and scooted me closer. ¡°You can calm down. I¡¯ve watched a lot of horror movies. People that look like me are usually the bad guy.¡±


    ¡°You have very strange methods of comforting people.¡±


    ¡°How often does the bad guy team up with the stupid one?¡± After a few seconds of silence, he added, ¡°We¡¯re not in a movie.¡±


    ¡°But there¡¯s a dead body under the floor!¡±


    Conrad frowned and looked down.


    I said, ¡°The normal comforting thing to say would be ¡®no, Emerra, it can¡¯t be a dead body.¡¯¡±


    ¡°Whenever they say that, it is.¡±


    ¡°You said we weren¡¯t in a movie! Besides, you¡¯d be able to tell, wouldn¡¯t you?¡±


    ¡°Not when it¡¯s this faint. There are times when a rotting body smells a lot like this.¡±


    Later I would reflect on that statement and wonder about all the interesting people in my life, and why they knew not only what a rotting body smells like, but what various stages of a rotting body smells like¡ªbut at that moment, I couldn¡¯t reflect on anything. My whole body was buzzing with nerves.


    ¡°Stand back,¡± Conrad said.


    I scooted a few inches away.


    ¡°Further.¡± His voice was low and menacing.


    I gave his voice a few more feet of space.


    He turned off his phone, put it in his pocket, then put his left hand and other knee down on the floor. His right elbow rose into the air and his hand curled into a fist that, for all the world, reminded me of a sledgehammer.


    When it hit the floor, there was an almighty crack. Boards split, their ends jumped into the air, splinters scattered.


    Conrad grabbed raised board after raised board, tore them free, and tossed them to the edge of the room. The sounds of them landing on the floor was mundane enough to release me from my awed stupor.


    ¡°You can come over,¡± Conrad said. ¡°Bring your light.¡±


    ¡°No dead body?¡±


    ¡°No dead body.¡± He gazed into the jagged hole he¡¯d made. ¡°I should have guessed.¡±


    I crept over. For the first few steps, the hole seemed to swallow my light, but then the angle changed, and I saw the first shine of tile.


    Conrad was talking: ¡°It¡¯s an old drain. This must have been a washroom or something. If the water ever evaporates or leaks out from the U-bend, the sewage smell comes back up the pipe. Whoever put in the false floor must have been trying to hide all the water damage for a quick sale.¡± He suddenly looked up. ¡°Mera?¡±


    It probably took a few seconds for my mounting horror to become powerful enough to smell through the sewage stench, but I wasn¡¯t surprised that it got there.


    I was standing two feet away from the hole, staring down at the black drain. Around it were tiny, goldenrod yellow tiles set in a sunburst pattern. There were teal tiles around them.


    ¡°This is it,¡± I whispered.


    I don¡¯t know why I whispered. If Conrad breaking the floor hadn¡¯t woken everybody up, my talking certainly wouldn¡¯t. But whispering felt right. Maybe the room wouldn¡¯t hear me if I was quiet enough.


    ¡°This is the room from my dream,¡± I said. ¡°That¡¯s the drain, those are the tiles.¡±


    ¡°Mera¡ª¡±


    ¡°Are you going to tell me I must have seen this too? It was covered, Conrad. I couldn¡¯t have seen this room, but I dreamed about it! The dreams are real.¡±


    The wolfman sat back and thought. I used the time to take a few deep breaths.


    Conrad broke the silence.


    ¡°It was covered, and it¡¯s been covered for years. If your dreams are real, they aren¡¯t showing you anything recent.¡±


    ¡°You think I¡¯m dreaming about the past?¡±


    Conrad nodded.


    ¡°Okay,¡± I said. ¡°That¡¯s¡­¡± I bounced my weight between my feet. ¡°That¡¯s something. That is definitely a¡­something. Good to know. We¡¯re wiser for our adventure. Right?¡±


    Conrad was too busy standing up to answer.


    I did it for him. ¡°Right. Glad we came. When does Darius get back?¡±


    ¡°In a few hours.¡±


    ¡°Good. Can we get out of here?¡±


    ¡°You can wait outside. I¡¯m going to cover this drain so it doesn¡¯t stink up the whole wing.¡±


    Despite Conrad¡¯s assurance that we weren¡¯t living in a horror movie, I didn¡¯t feel like splitting up. I brought him the wood pieces while he tried to fit them back together as best he could. It looked terrible, but it did cut down on the smell.


    We went out to the first room and over to the stairs.


    Conrad froze with his hand on the rail.


    ¡°Turn off your light,¡± he whispered.


    That idea did not appeal to me. His phone was still in his pocket. I was holding the only light source, but the way he¡¯d said it didn¡¯t leave much room for arguing. I fumbled with my phone.


    ¡°Hurry,¡± he said.


    I shoved the whole thing in my pocket. The room went dark except for a tiny glowing patch of denim about as high as my butt.


    ¡°Don¡¯t bother,¡± a voice said from the top of the stairs.


    It sounded like Wuller.


    He went on, ¡°You might as well come up, gentlemen. We know you¡¯re there, and there¡¯s only one exit.¡±


    I stood in an agony of indecision until Conrad reached back and put a hand on my shoulder.


    The headmaster was right. We didn¡¯t have a lot of choices, and staying down there only meant I was burning through my phone¡¯s battery.


    I pulled out my phone and led the way upstairs. Since Wuller was standing in the hall light, I could see him long before he could see me. He had on one of those fancy bathrobes that look like they¡¯re made from expensive curtains. I knew the moment he saw me because his face turned a reddish-plum color and his mustache started trembling.


    ¡°Miss Cole?¡± a higher voice said.


    Behind Wuller was Alex Miller. He stared at me with raw astonishment.


    The headmaster finally found his voice. ¡°Miss Cole! What are you doing here? I would have expected something like this from one of our boys¡ªb-but from you?¡±


    Conrad stepped up behind me. Both men took a half step back.


    ¡°Good morning, Miller,¡± Conrad said. ¡°That explains it.¡±


    ¡°Explains! Explains what?¡± Wuller demanded.


    ¡°He stays in the staff hall.¡± To Miller, Conrad said, ¡°You must be a light sleeper.¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t need to be a light sleeper, sir.¡± Miller¡¯s voice hardly quivered at all. ¡°It was quite a loud crash.¡±


    ¡°Crash!¡± Wuller turned from his assistant to the wolfman. ¡°What have you been doing to my school? No! No, I¡¯ll see for myself.¡±


    He started tromping down the stairs.


    ¡°Do you have your phone with you?¡± I called. ¡°The lights down there don¡¯t work.¡±


    The headmaster stopped and gave me a mean look.


    ¡°Would you like to borrow mine?¡± I asked.


    He stomped back up the stairs. As he passed me, he growled. ¡°I will get a torch. Miller, please escort them up to my office. Make sure they don¡¯t feel the need to go exploring again. They can wait in the hall until I¡¯m ready to see them.¡±


    He marched by us and out to the main hall.


    I sighed and shook my head. ¡°You try to be helpful.¡±

 Chapter 35 - The Headmaster

    I thought Miller would ask me a few questions on our way up to Wuller¡¯s office. He never did. Conrad¡¯s presence seemed to be a deterrent.


    Even though it was a Saturday, the school was starting to wake up. The hall lights went on at six, and we could hear a few noises behind the closed doors, but we didn¡¯t see anyone as we walked through the school.


    When we reached the door to Wuller¡¯s outer office, Miller motioned to a spot nearby.


    ¡°If you¡¯d wait here, please. I¡¯m sure Mr. Wuller won¡¯t be long.¡±


    He left.


    Conrad and I leaned against the wall to wait.


    I tend to chat or fidget whenever I''m restless, which meant, considering everything that had happened, I wasn''t going to be waiting in silence. I started talking to Conrad about all the possible things my dreams could mean, and if any of them had to do with the psychic abilities. It was nothing but speculation, but it helped pass the time.


    Thirty minutes later, my legs started to get tired.


    I interrupted my own comment to say, ¡°Wuller¡¯s already found the hole, hasn¡¯t he?¡±


    It took Conrad a moment to catch up with the sudden change in topic. Then he said, ¡°He must have.¡±


    ¡°Ah.¡± I sat cross-legged on the floor and leaned back on the wall. ¡°Then we might as well get comfortable. We could be here for a while.¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s probably getting dressed.¡±


    ¡°Oh? Then he¡¯s taking his sweet time about it. I hate to break it to you, Conrad, but we¡¯re being punished.¡±


    ¡°What makes you so sure?¡±


    ¡°Lots of experience. They may call them headmasters over here, but if you cut Wuller in half, you¡¯d see the word ¡®principal¡¯ written right in the center of his squishy, red heart, and this is an instinctive principal¡¯s technique¡ªmake ¡®em wait.¡±


    ¡°Instinctive?¡±


    ¡°Completely instinctive. I don¡¯t think they can help it.¡±


    Conrad sat down on the floor beside me. We both gazed at the windows on the wall across from us. The first light of dawn had set the sky glowing.


    ¡°You know,¡± Conrad said, ¡°being friends with you has been a real experience.¡±


    I smiled.


    I didn¡¯t want to curse things by reading too much into it, but my wolfman could have said ¡°working with you¡± just as easily as ¡°being friends with you.¡± I guess having to squish together to share a six-inch screen is good for forcing a little closeness.


    ¡°You never got in trouble when you were in school?¡± I asked.


    ¡°No. I was the quiet kid.¡±


    My smile widened into a grin. ¡°I believe that. What were your grades like?¡±


    ¡°Mostly As and Bs. A couple of Cs.¡±


    ¡°Pfffff. Nerd.¡±


    ¡°Jealous?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve got my GED and nothing to prove.¡±


    ¡°How many times did you get in trouble at school?¡±


    ¡°I lost count.¡±


    ¡°That many?¡±


    ¡°Yeah. This is nothing new to me. The trick is to look contrite.¡± I glanced at him. ¡°We¡¯re going to have to do something about your ears.¡±


    Conrad reached up and pulled on one of them. ¡°What¡¯s wrong with my ears?¡±


    ¡°They¡¯re upright. They should be drooping a little. You know¡ªbad wolf-boy!¡±


    His face scrunched up, and his ears dipped slightly. ¡°Like this?¡±


    I laughed. ¡°Except I can see you¡¯re forcing it. Conrad, I¡¯m beginning to think you¡¯re not sorry for what you did.¡±


    He shrugged.


    A few seconds later, he said, ¡°Mera, can I ask you something?¡±


    ¡°Sure.¡±


    ¡°What did you do to get sent to a detention center?¡±


    There it was. Ever since our conversation that first night, I¡¯d been waiting for Darius or Conrad to ask me that. After the third day, I managed to convince most of my brain that they probably wouldn¡¯t, but, once again, the little blob of my consciousness in charge of anxiety was proven correct. I could sense its smugness.


    ¡°You don¡¯t know that I was,¡± I pointed out.


    ¡°Were you?¡±


    Bad wolf-boy. No direct questions.


    I sighed. ¡°Yeah. That¡¯s me. The delinquent.¡± I made a face. ¡°The former delinquent.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t have to tell me if you don¡¯t want to.¡±


    ¡°Nah. It wasn¡¯t¡ªit shouldn¡¯t have been a big deal. There was a lot happening in my life, and the timing¡­It was really bad.¡±


    ¡°How so?¡±


    ¡°My foster parents¡ªyou know I was a foster child?¡±


    He nodded.


    ¡°My foster parents at the time were under a lot of stress, and they weren¡¯t getting along so great. When it all blew up, it was like dropping an anvil on the already overloaded camel. They ended my placement. It caused all kinds of problems.¡± My shoulders felt heavy, but I managed to shrug. ¡°I sometimes wonder if that made it easier for them to put me in the center.¡±


    ¡°How old were you?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯d just turned sixteen. They tried to get me for possession with intent to sell. They could only stick the possession charge.¡±


    As the silence stretched on, I glanced over. Conrad was gazing down at me. His expression was impossible to read.


    When our eyes met, he looked away. ¡°You don¡¯t seem like the type that would do drugs.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s what Mariah said when she asked me to hold them. She figured they wouldn¡¯t check my bag.¡±


    ¡°You were holding them for a friend?¡±


    ¡°Yup.¡±


    After a moment, he nodded. ¡°That I can see.¡±


    ¡°Oh?¡±


    ¡°You seem like the kind of person who¡¯d go a long way for the people you like.¡±


    I snorted. ¡°Like all the way to juvie.¡±


    ¡°Why didn¡¯t you tell the judge what happened?¡±


    I gave Conrad a long look.


    ¡°Right,¡± he said. ¡°You¡¯re no snitch.¡±


    I did my best to keep a straight face. ¡°First rule on the inside, noob¡ªsnitches get stitches.¡±


    He leaned closer. ¡°Thank you for coaching me. I¡¯d hate to make a mistake.¡±


    My nose crinkled when I smiled. What a silly dope.


    ¡°So what actually happened?¡± he asked.


    ¡°Mariah was a courier for a gang. The prosecutors were trying to get from her to the gang leaders, but I got in the way. I think that¡¯s why they tried to get me for intent to sell¡ªa felony verses a misdemeanor. They were probably hoping I¡¯d cave-in and tell them what I knew.¡±


    ¡°But you didn¡¯t?¡±


    ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°Do you regret it?¡±


    ¡°Kind of? Like, I regret letting Mariah do that, but I needed to learn to stand up for myself, and¡ªbelieve me¡ªthat helped. And it gave my therapist a really good excuse to smack me upside the head and make me think about what I wanted my life to be like. Or, the rest of my life, as it turned out.¡±


    ¡°What did you decide?¡±


    ¡°Huh?¡±


    ¡°What did you want your life to be like?¡±


    For some reason, my heart hurt. It played like sadness or longing, but it was so fragile and quiet I couldn¡¯t tell which it was. I watched the glowing gray sky beyond the diamond-mullioned windows as I spoke.


    ¡°I wanted to be happy. I wanted to be happy and have fun, and I didn¡¯t want to hurt people. I wanted to be the kind of person that made the world a nicer place because I was there.¡±


    Conrad lifted a hand and placed it on my head. The fur between his fingers tickled my scalp as he rubbed it. ¡°Good plan, zombie-girl.¡±


    I didn¡¯t mind that he was rubbing my head. It felt good, and considering how much I patted his head, it was only fair.


    Wait.


    ¡°Conrad, are you petting me or rubbing my bald head for good luck?¡±


    ¡°Must be for luck. You have the saddest fur coat I¡¯ve ever seen.¡± He pressed my head down, then lifted his hand away. ¡°Thank you for telling me what happened. I¡¯ve been busting my brain trying to figure out what you could have done, but I couldn¡¯t picture you as a gang leader.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, I don¡¯t like long skirts.¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°Never mind. You haven¡¯t seen those anime yet. Oh! I could have been a cat burglar!¡±


    ¡°You couldn¡¯t even sneak around a school without getting caught.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s because my partner in crime thought five in the morning was a good time for demolition work.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m just saying, a cat burglar would have stopped me. And do they even have partners?¡±


    ¡°Fine.¡± I tried to push him off balance by leaning into his arm. It was like trying to shove a building. ¡°Then what kind of crime did you come up with?¡±


    His enormous shoulders shifted in a shrug. ¡°Best I could figure, it had to be something like ferret smuggling.¡±


    My laugh echoed in the empty hall.


    ¡°Is that a crime?¡± I asked.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know, but I could easily see you picking up something cute and furry and walking away with it.¡±


    ¡°From now on, if anybody asks, that¡¯s my crime. I smuggle ferrets.¡±


    ¡°Got it.¡±


    Conrad raised his nose, then turned his head toward the stairway over the great hall. He let out a quiet, discontent hum.


    ¡°Is someone coming?¡± I asked.


    ¡°You could say that.¡±


    Most of the time, I would have noticed his odd response, but it had been four years since I was last in trouble. I was feeling nervous, and I was determined not to let Conrad know. One must protect their innocent little k¨­hai.


    ¡°Okay,¡± I said. ¡°Let me handle it.¡±


    ¡°Anything you say, Boss.¡±


    We stood up and turned toward the stairs.


    The man that came around the corner was not Wayne Wuller. It was Count Darius Vasil.


    It¡¯s easy to forget how imposing an expensive suit can make a man look¡ªright up until he¡¯s sauntering toward you with a knowing look in his eyes. There was no doubt in my mind, Wuller had told him everything.


    He stopped in front of us.


    ¡°Good morning,¡± Darius said.


    ¡°It was all my fault, sir,¡± I blurted.


    ¡°Yes. I assumed that.¡± His eyes went from me, to the wolfman, then back to me. ¡°But I am wondering how you forced Conrad to help you.¡±


    I made a mental note to plan my lies in advance next time and said with all the conviction I could muster, ¡°I twisted his arm.¡±


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    The vampire didn¡¯t smile, but I did notice a sudden tension in his cheeks. ¡°I see.¡± He turned to Conrad. ¡°You should be careful of your friends, Mr. Bauer. This one will get you into trouble.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m starting to pick up on that.¡±


    ¡°Wuller is only a second behind me. I have one question before he gets here¡ªdid you put that hole in the floor?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°On purpose?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°I look forward to an explanation when this is over. I recommend that you let me do most of the talking.¡±


    Gosh. Between me and Darius, Conrad would never have to speak again.


    He chose to anyway.


    ¡°Emerra¡¯s already got dibs on being boss-man.¡±


    When the count¡¯s eyes turned my direction, I immediately raised both hands in surrender. ¡°And I¡¯m happy to step down in recognition of my worthy rival.¡±


    Darius raised an eyebrow. ¡°Are you sure you don¡¯t want to fight me for the honor?¡±


    ¡°Nope! I¡¯m good.¡±


    Wuller came around corner. He was dressed in his typical tweeds. His bushy mustache highlighted the intensity of his scowl, like a furry underline (or would it be an overline?). He walked up to his door without saying a word to any of us and unlocked it.


    Darius was the first to follow him in.


    Wuller crossed over to the door of his inner office and opened that one as well. To get into the room, I had to pass under his disapproving gaze. It was the polar opposite of the friendly, welcoming regard he¡¯d shown me the last time I¡¯d come to his office as the honored guest being treated to tea. My stomach soured. I couldn¡¯t bring myself to feel guilty about breaking the floor, but I liked Wuller, and I hated the idea that I had upset him.


    Once we were all inside, he stalked over to his desk and sat down, still without saying anything.


    Conrad shut the door behind us. Darius, as the new boss-man, took his rightful place in the chair across from Wuller. Conrad and I stood a respectful distance behind him.


    Now that the stage was set, Wuller laid into us.


    I was wrong about him being upset. A better word would have been ¡°apoplectic.¡± He didn¡¯t yell, but he was eloquent about everything that had infuriated him. It was not a short list. It started with me and Conrad and eventually reached back in time to the inception of the Torr itself and how it grew to be such a degenerate company of hidebound, elitist, zombie-brained oligarchs.


    I got the feeling that because Wuller made it a point not to swear, he¡¯d learned to be really creative with his insults.


    I glanced at Conrad. His ears were down, but it wasn¡¯t the droop of contriteness. If I had to guess, I¡¯d say he was wary.


    Darius sat across from Wuller, listening with a look of polite interest on his face. It was the same expression a businessman would wear while listening to his accountant report less than spectacular earnings for the quarter. I got a vague sense that when Wuller was done ranting, the count would say, ¡°Hmmm. We must do better, ladies and gentlemen.¡±


    I marveled at his calm. No wonder he was the boss-man.


    His calm also seemed to be affecting Wuller, but the headmaster wasn¡¯t impressed by it. He was incensed.


    Wuller broke off, mid comment, to ask, ¡°Have you nothing to say?¡±


    Darius waited a moment before answering. ¡°I prefer to listen when others are speaking.¡±


    Wuller¡¯s eyes narrowed, but he couldn¡¯t find anything in that statement to criticize.


    ¡°And now?¡± he demanded.


    ¡°Are you done, sir?¡± Darius asked. ¡°You¡¯ve made it clear you¡¯re angry, but I¡¯m still lost as to why. I wondered if you would ever bother to explain it.¡±


    Wuller did not like that answer. For the first time, the headmaster¡¯s voice rose.


    ¡°My complaint should be obvious, sir!¡±


    ¡°Should it? I¡¯ve heard a lot about us as a team, a lot about the other teams sent by the Torr, a lot about the Torr itself¡ªbut you never addressed what Mr. Bauer and Miss Cole actually did.¡±


    For two whole seconds, Wuller was too astonished to speak.


    When he finally found his voice, the words came out in a blast of noise: ¡°They destroyed my school!¡±


    Darius, always a stickler for correctness, was not about to let that stand.


    ¡°They put a hole in the false floor of a basement that had already been condemned. Considering the mold, the whole floor would have had to be ripped up anyway. What harm was done?¡±


    ¡°Harm? This school is not their property to do with as they please! And what, exactly, were they doing there at five in the morning?¡±


    ¡°Ah, yes. Thank you for bringing up that point.¡±


    Wuller blinked like a man who¡¯s shoving his hardest against a wall that¡¯s suddenly no longer there.


    Darius went on, ¡°You seem to be laboring under a severe misapprehension, and I don¡¯t want it to happen again.¡±


    Apparently, the reason the wall was no longer there was because it had swung around on a pivot to hit the headmaster from behind.


    Wuller could only gape with shock and mute indignation.


    As Darius spoke, his clipped words grew louder.


    ¡°My colleagues were invited here by the Torr to investigate your claims about the psychic powers manifesting at your school. You have no authority over them. They do not¡±¡ªthere was a loud crack when the vampire¡¯s hand hit the desk¡ª¡°have to obey the rules you set down for your students, and you had no right to treat them as if they were misbehaving teenagers!¡± Darius continued, his voice, cold and fast, ¡°If you want to talk about offenses and resentment, I will be happy to start and finish that conversation with you.¡±


    ¡°I invited you here as my guests!¡± Wuller shouted. ¡°I did not think that would include having you sneak around my building at five in the morning as if you were investigating a crime!¡±


    ¡°Your misunderstanding of our priorities does not give you leave to pretend that you¡¯re their babysitter!¡±


    ¡°My misunderstanding? Tell me, Mr. Vasil, what exactly are your priorities? Does it include allowing them to snoop around blocked-off areas and destroy my property?¡±


    ¡°Our highest priority is the well-being of your students!¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s my priority!¡±


    ¡°Is it, Mr. Wuller? Then I wonder why the Torr had to send us in to investigate. Shouldn¡¯t you have done it yourself?¡±


    ¡°Investigate what? The powers? I know they¡¯re real, Mr. Vasil¡ªand so should you!¡±


    For a moment, the room was motionless. Then Darius shook his head.


    ¡°You really don¡¯t get it, do you?¡±


    ¡°Get what?¡±


    ¡°Mr. Wuller, the manifestation of these powers is not normal! Someone is doing something to these children. They need to be protected!¡±


    Wuller lunged to the front of his chair. ¡°Look at you! You insinuate that I¡¯m oblivious, but did you ever stop to consider your own prejudice? You¡¯re so certain that you know everything there is to know about psychic powers that there¡¯s no room in your head for new evidence!¡±


    ¡°Which do you think is more likely?¡± Darius said. ¡°That one-third of the boys at your school¡ªone-third, when the normal ratio is less than one in a billion¡ª¡±


    ¡°Less than one in a billion! By whose statistics?¡±


    ¡°Centuries of data collected by the Torrs.¡±


    ¡°Ah, yes. The Torr. An institution devoted to the study and control of magic. Forgive me if I¡¯m somewhat suspicious of their data, but aren¡¯t psychics out of their purview?¡±


    ¡°Psychics don¡¯t use magic,¡± Darius said. ¡°That doesn¡¯t mean they¡¯re out of our purview. I think your understanding of the Torr is incomplete.¡±


    Wuller opened his hands wide. ¡°I dare say it is! I admit my ignorance! I¡¯m not a magician. I only know what Miller¡¯s told me.¡±


    Did he just say Miller? I thought.


    He went on, ¡°Like any reasonable person, I trust that your knowledge of the Torr is far greater than mine because you¡¯re involved with them. But you would rather trust their limited, perhaps biased, information on psychics rather than go to the societies devoted to studying them.¡±


    ¡°You mean like the one you¡¯re a member of?¡± Darius said.


    A sudden silence fell.


    ¡°Yes,¡± Wuller said at last.


    ¡°I got the chance to visit with them yesterday.¡±


    ¡°And why did you go there? More investigating?¡±


    ¡°I needed information.¡±


    ¡°Did you find it?¡±


    ¡°I did. Their records were admirable.¡±


    ¡°Then you know that less than one in a billion is a ludicrous claim!¡±


    ¡°I found them informative. I never said they were accurate. Mr. Wuller, perhaps you can clear something up for me.¡±


    The headmaster scowled again. Deeper, this time. ¡°What is it?¡±


    ¡°I was under the impression that you weren¡¯t a psychic.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not.¡±


    ¡°And you specifically told the Torr that you weren¡¯t a psychic, and reiterated that statement to each of the teams that came here.¡±


    ¡°I did. What, exactly, is unclear to you? I am not and have never claimed to be a psychic.¡±


    ¡°Then how do you explain your rejected application to be recognized as one?¡±


    Wuller¡¯s face hardened. Conrad shifted beside me, but when I glanced over, his expression was blank.


    ¡°You¡¯ve made a mistake, sir.¡± Wuller¡¯s voice was quiet, but about as hard as his expression. Each word could have been a jagged, thrown stone.


    Darius pulled out his phone and opened his photo app. I glimpsed a picture of a piece of paper before he put his phone on the desk and shoved it toward the headmaster.


    ¡°Wayne Wuller. Application filed on the fifth of August, 2008. Reported psychic ability, cognitive empath.¡±


    The headmaster didn¡¯t even glance at the phone. ¡°Wayne Wuller! Born on the fourteenth of April, 1990! He was my son.¡±


    If I hadn¡¯t seen it with my own magical eyes, I never would have believed it. Darius Vasil had made a mistake. A bad one. To his credit, the vampire managed to rally in a dignified silence.


    ¡°I see,¡± Darius said. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. I should have read more carefully. Why was your son¡¯s application rejected?¡±


    ¡°The claim could never be proved.¡±


    ¡°Because of its subjective nature?¡±


    ¡°Because he was dead. I applied to have him recognized as a psychic posthumously. I thought¡ª¡± The headmaster¡¯s voice suddenly gave out.


    I saw it then, all the sadness hiding behind his eyes. He would never allow himself to cry¡ªcertainly not in front of us¡ªbut the tears were there, and a grief as heavy as the whole world. It hurt to look at.


    He swallowed and tried again. ¡°I thought I could at least see that he was recognized.¡±


    Darius didn¡¯t say anything.


    Wuller decided to fill the silence. As he spoke, his voice took on a rough, angry edge, but there was none of the real indignation he¡¯d had before. I think he was using the anger as an armor to support his tired soul.


    ¡°My son killed himself when he was seventeen years old. I know that everything I have done since then is far too little, far too late. I failed in my duty as a father, but I couldn¡¯t change the past. Instead, I decided to try to prevent it from happening again. That has been my one driving passion for over nine years, Mr. Vasil. The life of a psychic is a hard one! It¡¯s full of pain and uncertainty! They¡¯re trapped in a world that doesn¡¯t understand them and surrounded by people who refuse to believe them. That is why I founded Setlan on Lee. I gave up my whole fortune to do it! And even if you and the Torr refuse to acknowledge us, I will never give up on this school. If I save the life of even one boy, it will have been worth it.¡±


    There was another silence, but Wuller had either run out of things to say or the anger he needed to say them.


    When Darius spoke, a pressure, as light as settling silk, fell over me. This was a new feature of his vampiric influence: a gentle shhhhh that sat on your skin.


    ¡°Does that desire to save even one boy reach only as far as the psychics?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± the headmaster rasped. Eventually. ¡°I worry about the psychics more than the other boys, but they¡¯re all important to me. Every one of them.¡±


    ¡°Mr. Wuller, I¡¯m asking you to worry about those boys. If you¡¯re right about these psychic powers, then you¡¯ll lose nothing from our skepticism. But what if someone is experimenting on your students, without their consent, and without their knowledge?¡±


    The headmaster took a breath and looked away.


    ¡°This morning started a great deal earlier and was far more stressful than I expected it to be,¡± Wuller said. ¡°Our conversation might be more productive if we carry on after breakfast. Our breakfasts are late on Saturdays, but that will give me some time to think.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s a sage point, Mr. Wuller,¡± Darius said.


    ¡°Miss Cole!¡±


    I jumped at the unexpected hail. ¡°Sir?¡±


    Wuller raised his eyes to me. ¡°Will you be joining us? I hope there¡¯s some reasonable explanation for what happened this morning, and I would like to hear it.¡±


    A reasonable explanation? Tall order. I wondered if he¡¯d be satisfied with a barely coherent one.


    ¡°Yes, sir,¡± I said.


    ¡°Excuse us,¡± Darius said.


    With those two words, the gentle weight of his influence became a force that pressed in on me until I couldn¡¯t breathe. The vampire might as well have placed two iron plates on my chest, one after the other. It may have sounded like a polite request, but it was an order.


    Wuller nodded.


    Vasil stood up and led me and Conrad from the room. He shut the door behind us, then, under his breath, he said, ¡°Conrad, what do you think?¡±


    We all drew together in a tight huddle.


    ¡°He wasn¡¯t faking it,¡± Conrad whispered. ¡°The anger, the indignation¡­the grief¡ªit was all real.¡±


    Darius¡¯s eyes flicked over to me. ¡°Does she¡ª¡±


    ¡°She knows,¡± Conrad said.


    At first I was confused, but then I realized what they were so cryptically referring to.


    ¡°He told me about his nasal telepathy,¡± I said.


    The count¡¯s brow furrowed. ¡°It isn¡¯t telepathy. You need to learn these terms, Emerra.¡±


    ¡°Speaking of abilities I constantly mislabel, could you maybe warn me if you plan on using your Jedi mind trickery? That time was intense.¡±


    ¡°You felt something?¡± Conrad¡¯s voice rose in disbelief.


    A sharp hiss escaped the edge of Darius¡¯s mouth. When we looked at him, he glanced toward the side of the room. Our gazes followed his.


    Alex Miller was sitting at his desk, seemingly absorbed in his work. He wasn¡¯t a bad actor either.


    ¡°We need to get back to the room,¡± Darius said. ¡°We have a lot to talk about. When¡¯s breakfast?¡±


    ¡°Brunch is at ten,¡± Conrad said. ¡°No lunch.¡±


    ¡°No lunch?¡±


    ¡°Most of the boys go into town on Saturday,¡± I explained. ¡°They have some food you can buy in the dining hall from two to four. Hey, Darius, when I say ¡®scone¡¯ and they say ¡®scone,¡¯ are we talking about the same thing?¡±


    ¡°Not even close.¡±


    ¡°Rats.¡±


    ¡°Get the biscuits.¡±


    ¡°Why would I do that?¡±


    ¡°Trust me.¡±


    He headed toward the outer door. Conrad followed him. I trailed a step behind¡­then another step behind. Then another.


    Darius stopped with his hand on the handle and looked back. I was standing in the middle of the room.


    ¡°You guys go on without me,¡± I called. ¡°I¡¯ll catch up in a minute.¡±


    The vampire nodded, and the two of them left. When the door closed behind them, I turned to Mr. Miller.


    He was still pretending to be absorbed in his work, but if he was hoping that would be enough to stop me from bothering him, he knew nothing about American women.


    I plopped down on the seat next to him and thumped my finger on the top of his head.


    ¡°Ouch!¡± he said.


    ¡°You ratted me out.¡±


    His eyes slid over to me for a fraction of a second. I was leaning back in the chair and smiling at him. When he saw that, he relaxed. His shoulders dropped by an inch.


    ¡°You don¡¯t seem too upset by it,¡± he muttered. ¡°What were you doing down there anyway?¡±


    ¡°Looking for clues.¡±


    His eyebrows jumped. ¡°Did you find any?¡±


    I shrugged. It was easier than trying to explain what I didn¡¯t understand.


    ¡°Are you the one who told Wuller about the Torr?¡± I asked.


    He put his pen down. ¡°Yes. I thought you knew.¡±


    I didn¡¯t have Conrad¡¯s super-nose, so I couldn¡¯t tell for sure, but Miller¡¯s manner was so simple and open, I thought he was telling the truth.


    ¡°How did you know about them?¡± I asked. ¡°Are you a magician?¡±


    His head bounced with a brief, silent laugh. ¡°Ah, no. That would have been nice, but¡ªno. My uncle is an alchemist. Two of my cousins were born with talents, but I missed out on that lottery.¡±


    ¡°Were you jealous?¡±


    ¡°It would have been impossible not to be. Magic is¡­special.¡± He blushed. ¡°That¡¯s probably why I became so interested in the psychic community. I knew I didn¡¯t have magical talent, but no one knew who or why someone would show up with a psychic ability.¡±


    ¡°Is there a way to train yourself to become psychic?¡±


    Miller¡¯s shoulders fell again. ¡°People have claimed that there is, but I haven¡¯t seen any compelling evidence. To be honest, Miss Cole, before I came to work here, I was beginning to wonder if there was such a thing as a real psychic. I grew up surrounded by magic. To me, that was the real power. Being a psychic seemed like second place. I think that¡¯s why I could be more skeptical. I wasn¡¯t in awe of the powers. I didn¡¯t need them to be real. But to many of the people in the Psychic Society, the powers are something to believe in¡ªlike a faith.¡±


    ¡°Does that include Wuller?¡±


    ¡°It was less of a faith with Mr. Wuller, and more of a perfect certainty.¡±


    ¡°Because of his son?¡±


    Miller didn¡¯t answer.


    I pointed to Wuller¡¯s personal office. ¡°Could you hear us?¡±


    ¡°I wasn¡¯t listening in.¡±


    The assistant¡¯s red cheeks betrayed him.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think you would have had to listen hard,¡± I said. ¡°There was some shouting going on toward the end.¡±


    ¡°That, uh¡­that particular wall is one that we put in. It¡¯s thinner than the other walls in the school.¡±


    ¡°Then you must have heard him telling us about his son. Wayne Wuller¡ª¡±


    ¡°Yes. Wayne Wuller Junior. I know. I was the one the society asked to review the claim.¡±


    A ripple of shock zipped through me. ¡°You reviewed it?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°Does Wuller know that?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s how we met, Miss Cole.¡±


    ¡°And he knows that you rejected it?¡±


    ¡°I warned him at the outset that most posthumous applications are officially rejected, but they¡¯re also filed and counted in a different category. There¡¯s a difference between ¡®suspected false¡¯ and ¡®unable to be proven true.¡¯¡±


    ¡°How do you review a claim for someone who¡¯s dead?¡±


    ¡°We go over any relevant personal information we can. Sometimes its newspaper clippings, journal entries, accounts from witnesses. In Wayne¡¯s case, he kept notebooks. It was mostly art, but there were some personal entries I could review. I also interviewed any of his friends that were willing to talk to me.¡±


    ¡°And?¡± I said.


    ¡°And what?¡±


    ¡°Was he an empath?¡±


    Miller pressed his lips together.


    I scooted closer. ¡°I¡¯m not asking for your official report. I know that. I want to know what you really think.¡±


    Miller¡¯s voice was barely above a whisper when he answered: ¡°I think that Wayne Wuller was a sad young man who didn¡¯t get help in time. And I think the saddest thing in the world is that he will never know how much his father loved him.¡±


    ¡°He wasn¡¯t an empath?¡±


    ¡°No, but I think, at least some of the time, he believed he was.¡±


    I fell silent. I needed some time to sit with the sympathy that had invaded my heart. It had snuck in through the crack that appeared when I saw Wuller¡¯s grief, and now it grew until I could no longer ignore it.


    ¡°He means it, you know,¡± Miller said.


    I looked up.


    ¡°Mr. Wuller cares about those boys, and he¡¯s more serious about this school than you can imagine.¡±


    An uncomfortable smile quirked up the edges of my mouth. ¡°Yeah, but do you think he¡¯s more serious about saving those boys or proving that psychic powers are real?¡±


    ¡°The boys, Miss Cole.¡±


    The confidence in Miller¡¯s voice clamped a vice-like hand around my attention. It was the same tone I¡¯d heard him use when he¡¯d confronted Reisig about his poor record keeping. Miller¡¯s nervousness had vanished. He met my eyes without hesitation, and his face was stern.


    ¡°He would save the boys,¡± he said. ¡°Trust me.¡±


    Wow. That made two people who wanted me to trust them. In one morning. And it was barely seven.


    On the other hand, Darius was always certain of himself. Miller? Not so much. Which meant I was a lot more inclined to listen when he was certain.


    ¡°I¡¯ll let you get back to your work,¡± I said, standing up.


    I left the office. Conrad was leaning against the wall a few feet down the hall. His arms were crossed, his eyes were half closed, and his ears were alert¡ªa casual guardian mode, if ever I saw one. He didn¡¯t look up when I came out, but he pushed off the wall and fell in step beside me as I passed.

 Chapter 36 - A Power We Dont Understand

    Conrad was kind enough to let me brood in silence. We might have reached our rooms without saying a word to each other, but as we got closer, one of my more modest concerns grew until it eclipsed all others.


    ¡°You¡¯re scared?¡± Conrad said.


    ¡°Do you think Darius is going to yell at me?¡± I asked.


    The wolfman scoffed. ¡°No.¡±


    I stopped. Conrad noticed a step later and turned.


    ¡°No ¡®maybe?¡¯¡± I said. ¡°Or ¡®not for long, or ¡®don¡¯t worry, I¡¯ll protect you?¡¯ Just¡­no?¡±


    Conrad strolled back to me and stood close enough he could lower his voice. ¡°First of all, if you ever need any real protection from Darius Vasil, you did something very wrong, and I¡¯m not going to make any promises about protecting you. Second of all, why would Darius yell at you?¡±


    I squeezed my first two fingers with my other hand. ¡°He yelled at Wuller.¡±


    ¡°He was mad at Wuller. He isn¡¯t mad at us.¡±


    ¡°Are you sure?¡±


    Conrad brushed the tip of his black nose with a finger.


    ¡°But why?¡± I said.


    ¡°You were there, Mera. He explained it to Wuller. Rather loudly.¡± Conrad tilted his head. ¡°How bad is your hearing?¡±


    ¡°I thought he was acting! Like, to control the conversation.¡±


    ¡°He was. He was acting a lot calmer than he felt. Have you ever smelled an angry vampire? That¡¯ll make your fur stand on end.¡± The wolfman continued down the hall.


    I jogged to catch up. ¡°Then all that stuff about treating us like teenagers¡­?¡±


    ¡°Darius is big into respect,¡± Conrad explained. ¡°You give it where it¡¯s owed, and you show it to his people.¡±


    ¡°Oh.¡±


    We walked a few more feet in silence. It gave me some time to process the thought. It needed processing. It seemed to hit two parts of my brain at the same time.


    On one hand, I was tickled by the idea that I had a vampire willing to go to bat for me. If I tried to demand respect, I¡¯d probably sound like a petulant two-year-old. Darius only had to ask for it while raising an eyebrow, and most people would unconsciously rub their throats and decide that it wouldn¡¯t hurt to slap on a few manners.


    On the other hand¡ª


    ¡°Does Darius respect his people?¡± I asked.


    Conrad stopped. His hand was on a door handle. Oh! His hand was on our door handle. We¡¯d arrived.


    The wolfman was smiling, faintly, and shaking his head, even more faintly.


    ¡°What?¡± I demanded.


    ¡°You¡¯ll get used to it. Sooner or later.¡±


    He opened the door, and I stepped inside.


    Darius was bent over the desk, looking over some papers. He didn¡¯t look up when we came in.


    ¡°Yes, Miss Cole,¡± he said. ¡°I respect my people¡ªfor as long as they deserve it. And that includes you.¡±


    I turned to glance at the solid wood door that Conrad was shutting, then turned back to Darius.


    ¡°You heard that,¡± I said.


    He straightened up. ¡°The veil only prevents you from hearing me. I could hear you fine.¡±


    ¡°I wasn¡¯t thinking about the veil!¡± I sputtered a bit, trying to make words out of random syllables.


    Darius put down the papers. ¡°Let¡¯s get started, shall we?¡±


    As he passed me, he clapped his hand on my shoulder. A more rugged and reassuring gesture has never existed; it was the seal of camaraderie.


    Vasil took the armchair. Conrad and I sat on the couch.


    If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    ¡°Shall we start from when I left,¡± Darius asked, ¡°or jump immediately to the part where you demolished the basement floor?¡±


    Conrad and I looked at each other.


    Conrad gave his report first. It was shorter. He¡¯d been all over the school and found nothing.


    Then it was my turn.


    I started by telling Darius about Reisig¡¯s class and everything I¡¯d learned about Miller. That he was our skeptical note-taker and the original instructor for the psychics, and about his connection with the Torr.


    Then I told Darius about the rainy soccer game.


    As I told my story, the count¡¯s frown of concentration deepened, and his eyes darkened. He put his elbows on his knees, leaned over them, laced his fingers together, and watched me over the tiny mountain range of his knuckles.


    When I finished, he said, ¡°Tell me again. Start from when you first noticed the powers.¡±


    I told him again, adding in details as I remembered them, stammering over my descriptions of how it felt. Ivers and Wes confronting each other. The hanging rain. The floating balls. How the whole world paused before breaking over me, like the moment of tension before the crest of a wave breaks, and the sudden reversion to normal physics when Ivers stepped away.


    There was a long silence.


    ¡°These powers are getting out of hand,¡± Darius said.


    ¡°Out¡­out of hand?¡± I echoed.


    My eyes moved between Darius and Conrad. They both looked troubled.


    ¡°How so?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Focus and force,¡± Conrad muttered.


    ¡°Huh?¡±


    The wolfman raised his voice, ¡°I was asking Wuller about it yesterday at breakfast. How does the telekinetic power work? Focus and force. You usually need both to move something, but sometimes, if the force is powerful enough, you don¡¯t have to focus.¡±


    ¡°But in those circumstances, there¡¯s no telling what will happen,¡± Darius added.


    I remembered Evans¡¯ face screwed up with humiliation and anger, and the greenhouse glass blasting toward us.


    ¡°How much force would it take to hold off a field of rain?¡± Conrad asked.


    ¡°There¡¯s a power here that we don¡¯t understand,¡± Darius said. ¡°We need to find out what it is before it gets any stronger.¡±


    After a shorter, more dismal silence, Darius said, ¡°Now tell me why you were in the basement.¡±


    I started by telling him about my dream of walking down the hallway naked. As I spoke, Darius stood up, went over to the desk, and pulled a notepad from his messenger bag. He returned with it, sat down, and started writing.


    When I paused to let him work, he said, without looking up, ¡°Go on.¡±


    I told him about finding the hall from my dream the next day. Then came the dream about being dragged through the tiled room and pushed into the tub of cold water, and how Conrad and I went to the basement to find out if it was the same room.


    ¡°Was it?¡± Darius asked.


    ¡°She recognized the tile pattern under the false floor,¡± Conrad said.


    ¡°So we know Emerra was dreaming about that room even though she hadn¡¯t seen it like that before.¡±


    ¡°We wondered if it was something that happened in the past.¡±


    The count thought for a moment, then nodded. ¡°That seems like a logical conclusion.¡±


    ¡°But if those two dreams are real,¡± I said, ¡°does that mean the rest are too?¡±


    Darius passed me his notepad. ¡°Are those all of your dreams?¡±


    I looked over the list.


    Trapped in a room, looking out a barred window.


    Needle tracks on the arm, watching the door.


    Walking naked through the hall as punishment.


    Being dragged into a room and forced into a tub of cold water.


    ¡°You missed me cleaning up the blood.¡±


    ¡°The what?¡±


    I knew I¡¯d forgotten something. I scribbled in the note as I told him about scrubbing down the white table. In the back of my head, I heard an echo of weak humming. I rubbed my lips once. No tape.


    When I was done, I held out the notepad and pen.


    There was an awkward second or two where I sat there, holding them out, while Darius did nothing but watch me.


    Then he leaned forward and took the pad. ¡°It was an autopsy table.¡±


    And he made it sound so casual.


    My stomach blanched.


    ¡°An autopsy table?¡± Conrad repeated.


    ¡°Before they were made of stainless steel, autopsy tables were made of porcelain,¡± Darius said. ¡°What you described was an autopsy table.¡±


    ¡°That would explain the blood,¡± Conrad said.


    My voice was high and probably a smidge hysterical: ¡°Why am I dreaming about an autopsy table? What does that have to do with the building? What kind of a freaking mad house would need an autopsy table!¡±


    Conrad put his hand on my head. There was something comforting about its weight. ¡°Deep breath.¡±


    I decided to take his advice.


    While I breathed, Conrad said to the count, ¡°When was the last time they used porcelain tables?¡±


    Darius shrugged. ¡°The last one I remember was back in the nineteen-forties.¡±


    ¡°So we¡¯re not talking about the recent past?¡±


    ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°Can she¡­can she even dream back that far?¡± Conrad moved his hand from my head.


    My eyes fixed on Darius. No one in that room was more interested in the answer than I was. Unfortunately, his answer wasn¡¯t as confident or informative as I might have hoped.


    ¡°It would appear so,¡± he said. ¡°Either that, or for some reason, the table was in use much longer than normal. But we already have reason to believe you¡¯re dreaming about the past.¡±


    ¡°And what does any of this have to do with the psychics?¡± I asked.


    ¡°We don¡¯t know that it does.¡±


    ¡°But¡­then¡ªwhat¡¯s the point?¡±


    ¡°Emerra, there¡¯s a lot we don¡¯t know about your powers. It¡¯s possible your dreams are relevant, but we haven¡¯t figured out how. It¡¯s also possible that you¡¯re channeling something from the building that has nothing to do with the psychics.¡±


    ¡°How do we find out which it is?¡±


    ¡°We investigate the history of the building,¡± Conrad said.


    Darius frowned and rubbed his forehead. ¡°I wish I¡¯d known about this yesterday. I don¡¯t know how much we¡¯ll be able to look up online.¡±


    ¡°Wouldn¡¯t Wuller know it?¡±


    ¡°He might, and I¡¯ll be sure to ask him, but we can¡¯t neglect our other leads. We need to talk to Miller, and I want to know what Emerra¡¯s notes were doing down by the staff hall¡­¡±


    Their voices faded into a distant murmur. The muted sounds blended in with the whispers of my own thoughts as they tumbled around my head.


    I felt my lips move, but my words sounded almost as distant as theirs.


    ¡°I think I might know.¡±


    The sudden silence drew me back to reality. Conrad and Darius were both watching me.


    I elaborated, ¡°I think I might know someone who knows about this place.¡±


    ¡°Who?¡± Darius asked.


    ¡°Christopher Norris.¡±

 Chapter 37 - Bedlam

    I stood outside the nurse¡¯s office, a few inches away from the closed door.


    ¡°Okay,¡± I whispered. ¡°You¡¯ve got this, Emerra. So he¡¯s a little creepy! Everything about this is creepy. Your whole life after death has been creepy, and the fact you have a life after death is pretty creepy too. You could be buddies! Right? Good.¡±


    I lifted my hand but lowered it again without knocking.


    Conrad was leaning on the wall a few feet to my side. ¡°Do you want me to go in?¡±


    ¡°I said I¡¯ve got this!¡± I insisted. ¡°You just stand there and¡­be fluffy.¡±


    ¡°Can do.¡±


    I didn¡¯t want to confirm Conrad¡¯s (accurate) suspicion that I was a coward, so I knocked before I could think better of it, opened the door before I could stop myself, and walked inside.


    Norris was sitting in a chair by the window, reading a book. When he saw me, he closed it.


    ¡°Miss Cole, good morning. Do you need my assistance? Perhaps you¡¯re feeling faint again.¡±


    I blurted out, ¡°No!¡± Then I smiled and tried to sound more like a normal person. ¡°I¡¯m fine. Thank you.¡±


    ¡°No complications from your¡­anemia?¡± He raised one of his long, pasty fingers and motioned to my face. ¡°If you¡¯ll forgive me for saying so, it looks like you haven¡¯t been sleeping well.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m actually here to ask you something. It¡¯s a¡­a personal question.¡±


    Way to go, Emerra, I thought. That was definitely something a normal person would say. He¡¯ll never suspect you¡¯re a weirdo¡ªthough he might think you¡¯re trying to ask him out.


    His pale blue eyes stayed fixed on me, without blinking, for one or two lifetimes. Then he put his book down on the window sill beside him.


    ¡°You may ask,¡± he said.


    ¡°Why do you work here?¡±


    He gazed at me some more.


    I¡¯m never one to leave an uncomfortable silence alone when I could, instead, be filling it with awkward conversation.


    ¡°You said you worked here because you collected the bizarre, but you¡¯ve been working here since the school was founded. Right?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°The psychics only started appearing a year ago, which means you couldn¡¯t have been here because of them. I thought maybe there was something else weird about this place.¡±


    His strange smile ticked up the edges of his mouth.


    ¡°That¡¯s quite astute of you, Miss Cole. I wonder if you¡¯ve already guessed what it is.¡±


    ¡°Does it have anything to do with the fact you call this place ¡®Bedlam?¡¯¡±


    He unfolded himself from his chair and walked toward me, stopping only when he was an inch too close.


    I forced myself not to step back, but nothing could stop me from leaning away.


    ¡°Very good, Miss Cole.¡±


    He abruptly turned toward the middle of the room and motioned for me to follow him.


    I followed at a distance.


    Instead of going to the door that led to the rest of the school, he turned toward the door on the opposite wall. He opened it wide and walked in without waiting for me.


    I hesitated on the threshold.


    ¡°My personal rooms,¡± he said. ¡°I have to be available at all hours, so I live beside my office.¡± He paused. ¡°You may come in.¡±


    After a slight hesitation, I did.


    He hadn¡¯t turned on the lights, but the faint sunlight from the cloudy day filtered in through the tall window, highlighting the deep shadows, making all the shapes stand out. While Turner¡¯s room had the easy clutter of a lived-in home, Norris¡¯s room was barren in the center, while the edges were crowded with stuff.


    There were framed newspaper clippings hung on the wall. He had numerous shelves, covered with items. There was a (hopefully) fake taxidermy of a foot-long, mummified mermaid, neatly arranged bones, some kind of hood, a plague doctor¡¯s mask that looked old enough to be real, and a snake skin, carefully coiled for display. A worn doll with seven fingers on each tiny ceramic hand sat beside a marionette puppet with a cracked face. They were leaning against each other, as if they were in love. In the window were several potted plants. As I got closer, I saw they were labeled: hemlock, nightshade, snakeroot, foxglove. Everything in the room was spaced so that, no matter where you stood, you could see as many of the objects as possible. The man lived in a horror museum.


    Norris was going through his bookshelf. The long, chipped nail of his index finger tapped on each spine as he worked his way down the row.


    ¡°Ah,¡± he murmured. ¡°Here we are.¡±


    He pulled out a binder that was designed to look like a leather-bound book. He walked over to the small desk by the window, put it down, and opened it.


    As he talked, I crept closer.


    ¡°In 1919, the Lurendells sold Setlan on Lee to another private owner, one Mr. Efans. He defaulted on his loans only seven years later, so it was sold, at cost, to the Allards, who, after a few changes, turned it into what would become one of the most infamous insane asylums of all time.¡±


    I had moved close enough to see what was in the binder. They were photocopies of newspaper articles, all meticulously cut out and mounted behind protective covers.


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    HORRORS AT ALLARDS ASYLUM


    EVERYDAY ATROCITIES FOR THE FEEBLE MINDED


    I flipped through the stiff pages, taking in the images and the headlines, as Norris went on.


    ¡°Dr. Allard, himself, was only modestly more guilty than most doctors. His methods would be considered barbaric by today¡¯s standards, but at the time, they were either the tried-and-true treatments or cutting-edge research.¡±


    My voice was barely above a whisper: ¡°What kind of treatments?¡±


    ¡°It varied. Allard was more of a pragmatist than a theorist. He had his pet ideas, but he¡¯d try anything so long as there was a chance it would work. His tamer techniques included restraints, tranquilizing chairs, mercury pills¡ª¡±


    ¡°Mercury pills?¡±


    ¡°They were thought to be a safe and useful remedy. But Dr. Allard preferred barbital, and he used it often.¡±


    ¡°Barbital?¡±


    ¡°A barbiturate. A sedative. He often drugged his patients¡ªfor their own good.¡±


    ¡°Those were his tamer treatments?¡±


    ¡°Certainly.¡± Norris tilted his head; it rotated around his fixed eyes. ¡°Do you know what malarial treatment is, Miss Cole?¡±


    I shook my head.


    ¡°Allard would inject his patients with the malarial parasite to induce a fever. For insulin shock treatment, he injected large amounts of insulin in them to put them in a coma. Before succumbing to the coma, they were often wracked by seizures. In 1934 Meduna found an alternative way to induce these seizures¡ªhe injected them with a cardiac stimulant.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°They believed that it helped. When electro-convulsive treatment was introduced, Dr. Allard was among the first to begin experimenting with it. He also ascribed to Dr. Cotton¡¯s belief that infection in the body led to mental illness, so he performed hundreds of surgeries, everything from removing teeth to taking out appendixes, gallbladders, and parts of the intestines where he thought infection could linger.¡±


    The page of the album sat heavy in my dull, numb hand. How could every new detail be more disturbing than the last? I knew I needed to learn everything I could, but searching for another question felt like slowly reaching my arm into a dark closet coated in spider webs.


    ¡°Did he do autopsies?¡± I asked.


    ¡°It was standard. After all, he was trying to find evidence that madness had its roots in physical pathology. Allard did other surgeries as well. Castration. Removal of ovaries. It¡¯s hard to say if it was to prevent unwanted pregnancies among the patients or because he believed that the mentally ill shouldn¡¯t be allowed to reproduce.¡±


    ¡°He was a monster,¡± I said.


    ¡°He was a doctor. Too quick to use the barbital, but otherwise, a perfect example of a man of his times.¡±


    I looked back down at the binder and flipped a few more pages. After the articles there was a series of photocopied pictures. Some of the copies were defective; subtle gray shadows became black shapes with grainy edges and glaring white highlights. I could make out a padded room. A stained straight jacket. A small cell with bars set in the window. Chains. A pharmacy. A group of men, all dressed in the same collarless shirt, dark pants, and suspenders, working in the garden beside a stone wall. A large rectangular room lined with a row of tubs. Each tub was covered by a heavy, sagging cloth.


    My hands started shaking.


    ¡°What¡¯s this?¡± I asked.


    Norris glanced down. ¡°Hydrotherapy. Mostly harmless.¡±


    My trembling grew worse. ¡°How is it mostly harmless?¡±


    ¡°For most patients, it was a form of relaxation. Better than a drug-induced stupor, wouldn¡¯t you agree?¡±


    My voice rose. ¡°That water was freezing! They were put in bound. I couldn¡¯t move my arms!¡±


    My heart lurched. I had said that. I had actually said that out loud.


    Norris didn¡¯t seem to notice.


    ¡°Manic-depressive psychoses were often treated with cold water therapy, and binding a patient was common practice if they tried to resist their treatment.¡±


    ¡°You mean if they resisted anything.¡±


    The nurse¡¯s head drifted down in a slow nod, then he raised it to gaze out the window.


    ¡°At the time it was almost impossible to get a license to open a new asylum,¡± he said. ¡°No matter how well meaning the director was, most of them had to deal with severe overcrowding. I wonder how long it took for good intentions to become everyday atrocities. Women were locked inside for years because it was the men that tended the yards. The well-behaved had to participate in work therapy that became something very close to slave labor, while the resistive were restrained because it was easier than fighting them. You¡¯d look the other way when there was a complaint about one of the wardens because at least they were willing to work there, and you were always short-staffed.¡±


    He turned, and his eyes locked on mine.


    ¡°It¡¯s almost like a school, isn¡¯t it?¡± he said.


    He let out one of his three-huff laughs.


    I didn¡¯t think it was funny.


    ¡°They had problems with their wardens,¡± I prompted.


    ¡°Oh, yes.¡± Norris reached down and flipped through the binder. ¡°Most of their problems were with the wardens. The scandal was terrible. Practically every accusation possible was brought up. Abuse. Rape. Neglect. Harassments. Cruel punishments for arbitrary rules. It was rumored to be more like a prison camp than an asylum.¡±


    He stopped at a page full of portraits. There were five men and one woman. Each one had a side-view and front-view shot. Their names were scrawled across the bottom in white.


    He pointed. ¡°These three were eventually convicted of manslaughter, although two of them had their charges dropped after serving for ten years.¡± He pointed to the woman. ¡°She got away with everything because no one believed that a woman could ever do what she was accused of.¡±


    ¡°Was she guilty?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t think we¡¯ll ever know the truth. I tried to compare the testimonies of the patients to the few reports that made it into the hospital¡¯s files, but as you can imagine, most of the incidents were kept off the record.¡±


    ¡°Why were the men found guilty of manslaughter? Did they kill someone?¡±


    ¡°They probably killed lots of people, Miss Cole¡ªin their own small ways. When you drive someone to suicide by using therapy as a punishment, or kill them by neglecting necessary care, it¡¯s less dramatic than beating them to death, but the person¡¯s still dead.¡±


    ¡°They beat someone to death?¡±


    ¡°They tied five of the most violent patients together with rope. The wardens said that it was to corral and control them, but it was also strictly against Allard¡¯s practice. He had solitary confinement rooms set aside for the most resistive patients. I wonder if they did it for entertainment purposes. While the patients were alone together, a fight broke out. Two of them were killed. The first was throttled, the other had been stomped to death. When the wardens returned, they beat the remaining three, supposedly to subdue them. One of those three died from his injuries. Unfortunately for the wardens, he was the son of a rather prominent man¡ªthus, the investigation.¡±


    ¡°What happened after that?¡±


    ¡°The asylum was closed down. After the trial, Allard and his wife retired to South America. They could escape their reputation. The building could not. Allard¡¯s lawyer was unable to find a buyer until five years later. By then the manor was in terrible condition. An investor bought it in 1947 and did his best to turn it into a profitable apartment building, but it failed less than five years later. Ever since then, it¡¯s passed from owner to owner, none of them staying for longer than ten years. Between owners it rots away, abandoned and empty.¡± His lips quirked up in a smile. ¡°Bizarre, isn¡¯t it?¡±


    A second later, I managed to break away from the staring contest. I reached down and closed the binder. ¡°I don¡¯t think it¡¯s bizarre for people to want to avoid a building with that kind of history.¡±


    ¡°Then you know nothing about people, Miss Cole. We¡¯re drawn to the macabre. Can¡¯t you see all the early gawkers, men in suits or working clothes, women in their dresses, standing outside the gate, high on their toes, trying to get a glimpse of the building where it all happened?¡±


    I could almost see them. The crowd, gazing in, some with their eyes half turned away, whispering to each other because it only felt right to whisper. The wall that had been built to keep the patients in became all that kept the public out.


    Norris leaned in, much too close. I didn¡¯t back away.


    He said, ¡°You can¡¯t imagine how thrilled I was when I heard that there was an opening for a nurse here. At last I would be able to see the place for myself, match all the rooms to the photos¡ªmaybe learn why no one seems to be able to live here.¡±


    ¡°And the psychics?¡±


    He shrugged. ¡°A happy accident. Very amusing and, perhaps¡­a bit creepy. Don¡¯t you think?¡±

 Chapter 38 - Cierce

    Darius was not happy when he heard what Norris had to say. As I told him about our conversation, the count¡¯s normal determined expression took on an element of frustrated resignation that only made it look more flinty. When I finished the story, he cursed.


    ¡°That good, huh?¡± I said.


    ¡°We¡¯ll have to call in an expert.¡± He pushed himself out of the desk chair.


    ¡°An expert in what?¡±


    ¡°Emerra, I am so far out of my depth, I don¡¯t even know the word for the expert I need.¡±


    We started making calls. Brisbane, of the Albion Torr, couldn¡¯t think of anyone who might be able to help us. Big Jacky didn¡¯t answer his phone. I called Iset. She tracked Jacky down, put his phone in his hand, and stood there, watching him, while Darius tried calling him again. That time he answered. He gave Darius a name and told him to call Brisbane to get her phone number.


    Brisbane, when he heard the name, went, ¡°Oh, god. Her.¡±


    With that kind of introduction, you¡¯d better believe I was out in front of the school five minutes before she was due to arrive.


    Darius and Conrad were waiting with me.


    ¡°So she¡¯s a witch?¡± I said.


    ¡°Among other things,¡± Darius said.


    Being a witch was kind of a big thing. What could possibly be important enough to hold its own against that title?


    ¡°Is she their torrman?¡± I asked.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think she has the temperament to serve.¡±


    ¡°Is that what Brisbane said?¡±


    ¡°No. I think I remember her.¡±


    Our conversation was interrupted by the distant sound of a revving car engine getting closer, fast.


    A pristine, old-fashioned, navy-blue convertible sped up the drive. I could hear the breaks hit at the last minute while the woman behind the wheel whipped it to the side, pulling away from us. When she took the key from the ignition, the car was parked at an angle, in the middle of the lot, blocking two other cars from leaving.


    She pulled the brightly patterned kerchief from her head and shook out her mass of white and gray hair. It rolled away from her head in thick waves, settling just above her collar. The kerchief went into the glove box, and out came a large tobacco pipe. It had a sleek, curved, black stem and an elegant, off-white bowl. Once it was clamped between her teeth, she extracted herself from the car.


    It was impossible to gauge how old she was. Her face had enough wrinkles, I would have put her well into her seventies or eighties, but she moved with a deliberate, graceful force that made her appear much younger. A man¡¯s long, black coat flapped around her as she moved, hiding most of her emerald green blouse and coal gray dress pants. On her feet were a set of Chuck Taylors. They looked exactly like mine.


    I smiled when I saw them.


    She smiled back. Then she turned to Darius.


    The count stepped forward. ¡°Madam Circe?¡±


    She took the pipe out of her mouth long enough to motion to him with the stem. ¡°It¡¯s you. I remember you. You gave me the worst d¨¦j¨¤ vu headache of my life. Here we are, fifty years later, and it¡¯s finally settled.¡± She tapped the stem of her pipe on her lips. ¡°So that¡¯s why you look the same. Hmmmm.¡±


    She bit down on the pipe with a quick snap, then raised her finger to the bowl. I saw a glow of reflected orange light on her long nail, then smoke began to rise.


    ¡°Madam Circe¡ª¡± Darius said.


    ¡°It¡¯s Circe, Mr. Vasil, or I¡¯ll curse you.¡± She winked at him. ¡°And you know I can.¡±


    Darius corrected himself, ¡°Circe, this is a school. I¡¯m not sure that smoking is allowed.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sure it isn¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°But you don¡¯t intend to stop?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry, Mr. Vasil, they won¡¯t kick me out before my work is done.¡±


    ¡°You know that?¡±


    She smiled at him. Her teeth were almost perfectly white.


    ¡°Mr. Wuller¡ª¡± Darius started.


    ¡°Wayne Wuller, the head man. A bit of pomp. He wants to join us.¡± She shook her head. ¡°He won¡¯t.¡±


    Her eyes moved from Darius to Conrad. I could see her gaze rise and fall as she looked over the wolfman.


    ¡°Why not?¡± Darius asked.


    She removed the pipe to shrug. ¡°How should I know?¡± The pipe clicked back between her teeth.


    Darius¡¯s chest heaved in a silent sigh.


    Circe ignored him. Her eyes came to rest on me. She walked forward, until we were only two feet apart. We were almost the same height. She stared into my eyes and smiled.


    ¡°There they are.¡± Her voice was soft, almost awed. ¡°Aren¡¯t they beautiful.¡±


    Nothing should have changed¡ªno movement was called for¡ªbut between one moment and the next, she went from looking at my eyes, to looking in them at me.


    ¡°Hello, Emerra.¡±


    ¡°Do¡­do you know me?¡±


    ¡°Not yet, but I think you have excellent taste in shoes.¡± She turned back to Darius. ¡°Shall we go inside now, or would you like some more time to deliberate?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t suppose it will change the outcome,¡± the count said wryly.


    ¡°It never does.¡±


    Darius motioned to the front door. Circe marched inside.


    She was still looking around the entryway when Miller came jogging up to our group.


    ¡°Mr. Vasil! Mister¡­¡± His voice trailed off when he saw the witch.


    She blew out a large cloud of smoke. ¡°Good afternoon.¡±


    Miller¡¯s head jerked in a nervous nod. ¡°Good afternoon¡­Circe.¡± He seemed to agonize for a second over whether or not to say anything else, but then he turned to Darius. ¡°Mr. Wuller sends his apology. He got an urgent call from the parents of one of our students. The boy was hurt quite badly while in our care, and Mr. Wuller¡ª¡±


    ¡°He won¡¯t be coming to join us,¡± Darius said.


    ¡°Oh, imagine that,¡± Circe cooed.


    ¡°Please assure Mr. Wuller that I understand,¡± Darius said, ¡°and that I¡¯ll be happy to tell him everything that happens. Unless you¡¯d rather come with us?¡±


    Miller glanced at the witch.


    ¡°I¡¯m afraid I was on my way out,¡± he said. ¡°I have errands to do, but I¡¯ll give the headmaster your message before I leave.¡±


    ¡°Thank you.¡±


    I sidled up to Circe and whispered, ¡°Do you know him?


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    ¡°I have a reputation.¡±


    She had leaned close to confide this to me. Her breath stunk of tobacco.


    I nodded to her pipe. ¡°You know that stuff will kill you, right?¡±


    ¡°On the contrary, I know for a fact it won¡¯t.¡±


    After Miller had left, Darius turned to us. ¡°You know the basics of our situation, M¡ªCirce. What would you like to do?¡±


    One of her thin shoulders lifted in a shrug. ¡°You have a problem with your building. Let¡¯s see the building.¡±


    She marched down the hall. We followed.


    ¡°Emerra,¡± she called, ¡°beside me, if you don¡¯t mind.¡±


    When I glanced at Darius, he nodded. I hurried to catch up to the witch.


    ¡°Thank you,¡± she said. ¡°My hearing isn¡¯t what it once was.¡±


    ¡°But I didn¡¯t say anything,¡± I protested.


    ¡°Yes, that¡¯s a bit odd, but I dare say you¡¯ll get over it. Do you want to start with the banal things? Guess how old I am.¡±


    ¡°Sixty?¡±


    ¡°I see you already know the power of flattery. I¡¯m one hundred and twenty.¡±


    I gazed at her profile as we walked. Her eyes seemed to light on everything we passed.


    ¡°You¡¯re not,¡± I said.


    ¡°Witches live longer than mundanes.¡±


    ¡°But you¡¯re not a hundred and twenty.¡±


    ¡°How do you know?¡±


    I didn¡¯t have an answer. It felt instinctive, like knowing how much something would weigh before picking it up, but the fact I didn¡¯t know how I knew bothered me.


    ¡°Perhaps you can see it?¡± she offered.


    ¡°How?¡±


    Her eyes left the hall and strayed to me. ¡°So you don¡¯t know that yet.¡± She went back to inspecting the building. ¡°I¡¯m only ninety-three, but I¡¯ve made it a policy to lie about my age since I was fourteen. It¡¯s always served me well.¡±


    ¡°And a witch can be any age she wants?¡±


    ¡°A woman should be any age she wants. This way.¡±


    She turned ninety degrees and marched into one of the open meeting rooms where parents could visit with their children or the teachers.


    She stood among all the furniture and slowly spun, inspecting everything. ¡°How fascinating.¡±


    She marched out and continued down the hall.


    ¡°Mr. Vasil,¡± she called, ¡°is there any room in particular you want me to look at?¡±


    ¡°Not in particular.¡±


    ¡°What about you¡±¡ªshe snapped her fingers, as if trying to recall a name¡ª¡°the furry guardian? No. The fluffy guardian.¡±


    In my surprise, I stumbled. Exactly how many people, aside from me, thought of him as a fluffy guardian?


    ¡°You mean Mr. Bauer?¡± Darius asked.


    She stopped. ¡°Well, I didn¡¯t mean you.¡± Her eyes moved over to Conrad. ¡°Have you smelled anything?¡±


    ¡°No, ma¡¯am.¡±


    She hummed and turned to me. ¡°Then it¡¯s down to you and me, Emerra. I can¡¯t stay here for long. Take me to the places I need to see.¡±


    ¡°But I¡­¡± My voice trailed off.


    She exhaled a billow of smoke and smiled, her lips peeling away from the stem of her pipe.


    ¡°There you go,¡± she said. ¡°Yes. Those places.¡±


    I took her to every place I had ever felt cold or uneasy, every dark corner that had seemed to whisper to me. Wuller had boards nailed across the door to the condemned basement, but Circe stood by it for a full minute, motionless, her hand resting on the exposed door frame. I took her to the hall outside the boys¡¯ dormitory. She stood there, puffing, ignoring the few students who stared at her as they passed. Our tour finished in the hall around the corner from our rooms.


    ¡°What happened here?¡± she asked.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡±


    ¡°I meant, to you.¡±


    ¡°I fainted.¡±


    ¡°The details, Emerra.¡±


    I explained about the humming, the crying, the noises that had bombarded me, and then the shadows.


    She folded her arms halfway through my explanation. When I finished, she was tapping her pipe against her lips.


    ¡°There was something different about that night, wasn¡¯t there?¡± she said. ¡°Something different about you.¡±


    ¡°What makes you say that?¡±


    ¡°Because this hall is no worse than most of them. If it isn¡¯t the hall, then it must have been you.¡±


    Conrad was standing right behind me. My cheeks flushed. I don¡¯t know why I felt self-conscious. He already knew I was a ferret smuggler.


    ¡°I¡¯d had something to drink,¡± I admitted.


    Circe nodded. ¡°Yes, that would do it.¡±


    ¡°What happened?¡±


    ¡°You were probably overwhelmed.¡± She took a step closer and leaned in. ¡°For some people, alcohol is a relief. But that¡¯s only some people. People like you and me¡ªwe must take refuge in sobriety.¡±


    ¡°And tobacco?¡± I suggested.


    ¡°Tobacco?¡± She waved her pipe between us. ¡°Don¡¯t you know this stuff would kill you?¡±


    Circe turned and marched toward the end of the hall. Once again, we all set off after her.


    My legs were tired from trying to keep up with her¡ªher power walk could match Darius¡¯s¡ªso I was immensely relieved when she stopped at our door and motioned for Darius to unlock it.


    I was so relieved, I didn¡¯t think to ask how she knew it was our door.


    Once Darius opened it, she blew inside, marched over to the couch, and sat down right in the center of it, throwing open her coat so it settled around her.


    ¡°Open the window if you must, Vasil,¡± she said. ¡°We¡¯ll be here for a few minutes.¡±


    Darius went to do exactly that.


    Circe motioned for me to take the armchair. Darius brought over the chair from the desk. Conrad stayed standing.


    The witch pulled a bag from her coat pocket. From that she extracted a cloth, some pipe cleaners, an air-tight jar of tobacco, and some tool I couldn¡¯t name.


    ¡°One of those disposable cups, please.¡± Her eyes moved to the small stack beside the electric kettle.


    Conrad brought her one.


    She knocked out whatever black mess is left at the bottom of a pipe when you¡¯re done smoking it and started cleaning the pipe while she talked.


    ¡°If you want to test me, vampire, now is the time to do it.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t need to test you, Circe. You come highly recommended.¡±


    ¡°Then tell me about the building.¡±


    He told her.


    By the time he was done, she had cleaned, reloaded, and relit her pipe.


    ¡°An insane asylum,¡± she muttered. ¡°Yes, that fits. This was, at one point, a very unhappy place. It¡¯s been healing, but for all the time it¡¯ll take for the echoes to die¡­¡± She shrugged. ¡°You might as well burn it to the ground.¡±


    ¡°Norris said the place has been going derelict,¡± I said.


    ¡°Norris. A pale man, long hands?¡±


    I nodded.


    A mean half smile appeared on her face. ¡°You don¡¯t like him, do you? He¡¯s right though. It has been going derelict.¡±


    ¡°But¡ª¡±


    ¡°What? You think you can¡¯t heal while falling apart? Time, silence, and loneliness are often what it takes.¡±


    ¡°These echoes,¡± Darius said, ¡°are you talking about ghosts?¡±


    ¡°No ghosts.¡± She motioned to me with her pipe. ¡°She could have told you that. No ghosts, but not normal echoes either.¡± She looked at me. ¡°Tell me, Emerra, do you believe that a mundane can leave an imprint on a building, staining it with their experiences?¡±


    I ran my tongue over the inside of my lips as I tried to think how to answer. Not that I had much choice. I was in a room with Darius Vasil, Conrad Bauer, and yet another person I was pretty sure I couldn¡¯t lie to.


    ¡°No,¡± I said.


    ¡°Why?¡± she demanded.


    ¡°Because of the hospice.¡±


    Both her eyebrows rose. She watched me, waiting for an explanation.


    ¡°I¡¯ve been in sad places and places with a lot of pain,¡± I said. ¡°It¡¯s not the buildings. They¡¯re only buildings. The people carry all of it.¡±


    ¡°Then how do you explain this school?¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°You should give yourself more credit. You¡¯re wiser than you think.¡±


    A shy smile snuck onto my face. I shook my head. ¡°I¡¯m not.¡±


    She hummed, thoughtfully. Then her head turned, and she was talking to all of us again. ¡°A mundane can¡¯t leave an echo like this. They leave echoes only in our minds. But a person with power! That¡¯s another matter.¡±


    ¡°Are you talking about a magician?¡± Darius asked.


    ¡°A witch. A sorcerer.¡± Circe shrugged. ¡°But are you likely to find them in an insane asylum?¡±


    I thought about what Wuller had told me.


    ¡°A psychic,¡± I said.


    ¡°Ah!¡± The witch slow winked at me. ¡°More likely. Much more likely. There was probably at least one true psychic¡ªpossibly two¡ªbut asylums were also collecting points for the psychically inclined.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s the difference?¡± Conrad asked.


    Circe eyed him for a few seconds before saying, in a mumble, ¡°It¡¯s hard to look at you, friend.¡±


    Her eyes dropped to a spot on the carpet. When she spoke, her voice returned to its clipped, loud tones.


    ¡°The term ¡®psychic¡¯ is reserved for someone who can manifest one or more of the psychic powers. The ¡®psychically inclined¡¯ are people who tend that way but have no powers themselves. Think of it as a sliding scale.¡± She used her hands to set the boundaries and bounced her left hand as she said, ¡°On one side of the scale, you have the dead ¡®uns¡ªpeople who are so dull they can¡¯t influence or be influenced.¡± She bounced her right hand. ¡°On the other side of the scale, you have the wretches who can feel and use it all. Between them is everyone else.¡± She scooted her left hand closer to her right. ¡°If you collect enough people in this range and put them through enough trauma, they would have the influence necessary to shape these kinds of echoes.¡±


    ¡°What do these echoes do?¡± Darius asked.


    Circe dropped her hands. ¡°What any echo does. They reverberate until they fade.¡±


    ¡°Nothing else?¡±


    ¡°No. For the sensitive, this would be a very uncomfortable place to stay, but for the vast majority of people¡ªincluding magicians¡ªthey wouldn¡¯t even notice.¡±


    Darius leaned back in his chair and rubbed his jaw. Circe smoked in silence.


    A few seconds later, the count moved his hand and looked up. ¡°Circe, we have a problem.¡±


    ¡°Tell me.¡±


    ¡°Approximately one hundred boys in this school have manifested some kind of psychic power at least once.¡±


    Her grin was so wide, she couldn¡¯t keep the pipe in place. ¡°Oh, dear.¡±


    ¡°The powers have been growing stronger and manifesting more frequently.¡±


    ¡°That is bad.¡± She returned the pipe to her mouth.


    ¡°Could this be caused by the echoes in the building?¡±


    ¡°Not a chance. You¡¯ll have to look somewhere else for your answers.¡±


    Conrad said, ¡°You¡¯re sure?¡±


    The witch¡¯s eyes moved to the carpet by his boots. ¡°I lied. There¡¯s a chance, but it¡¯s a one in a billion chance.¡±


    ¡°Go on,¡± Darius said.


    ¡°Magic gathers. It can be twisted, shaped, and used. In some ways, it¡¯s simple. We don¡¯t understand its nature perfectly, but it¡¯s a power, and we know how to use it. We don¡¯t understand psychics at all. Who¡¯s to say that the echoes they leave behind aren¡¯t something like a power? Or an amplifier? But if it is, you would need a psychic to use psychic power, in the same way you need a magician to harness magic.¡±


    ¡°We have a hundred psychics,¡± Darius reminded her.


    ¡°You don¡¯t believe that any more than I do. Were any of them psychics before they got here? Will any of them be able to use their powers after they leave?¡±


    ¡°At least one of them was a psychic before he came here,¡± I said.


    ¡°Oh? There¡¯s a psychic at the school? A real psychic?¡±


    ¡°Yeah.¡±


    She pulled the pipe away from her mouth. ¡°Take me there. I want to meet him.¡±


    I stood up. Darius and Conrad moved to follow.


    Without looking around, Circe announced in a commanding voice, ¡°Not you two.¡±


    Darius and Conrad stopped.


    She smiled at me. ¡°We won¡¯t need the exception or the half-baked this time. It¡¯ll be you and me, Emerra.¡±


    ¡°Circe¡ª¡± Darius started.


    ¡°She¡¯ll be fine.¡±


    ¡°You know this?¡±


    The witch looked at him. ¡°Of course.¡±

 Chapter 39 - The Seer Meets the Psychic

    I found Turner in the staff room and asked him if he knew where Reisig was. Rather than try to give me directions, Turner offered to show me the way to Reisig¡¯s private rooms. His manner was nonchalant, and he never alluded to the fact he¡¯d once found me wandering the halls, lost.


    No wonder I liked him.


    When he stepped out into the hall and saw Circe, he came to a dead stop.


    ¡°Mr. Turner,¡± I said, trying to make an old woman smoking a pipe while staring at him with a wicked half smile on her face sound like a perfectly normal thing, ¡°this is Circe.¡±


    ¡°Circe,¡± he repeated.


    ¡°Oh, yes,¡± she said. ¡°You know her, Paul Turner. The Greek enchantress known for turning men into pigs. Of course, ¡®enchantress¡¯ is nothing but a fancy word for a witch.¡±


    At first, he didn¡¯t move. Then he reached out his hand. ¡°I¡¯m honored to meet you.¡±


    As they shook, she said, ¡°No comment about the pipe?¡±


    ¡°Far be it from me to tell a witch what to do.¡±


    ¡°Good man.¡±


    He led us over to the great hall and down the stairs, but rather than taking us through the north wing, he turned down the east wing, toward the dining hall.


    ¡°Reisig doesn¡¯t stay with the other teachers?¡± I asked.


    ¡°He¡¯s not technically a teacher,¡± Turner said. ¡°But that¡¯s only a technicality. Wuller offered him one of the nicer rooms as soon as they were finished, but the staff hall is closer to the old gym.¡± Turner shrugged. ¡°He must have preferred the shorter walk.¡±


    ¡°Paul,¡± Circe said, ¡°what do you think of Reisig?¡±


    The teacher tucked his hands into the pockets of his jeans. His answer came four or five steps further on.


    ¡°He puts in his hours. He tries to organize the information and teach the students new things. He makes them work, and he works with them. I once found him in the staff room at midnight, making coffee, because he was still getting ready for class the next day.¡± He turned to look at Circe. ¡°I think he should have taken the nicer rooms.¡±


    The witch hummed.


    When we passed the school¡¯s common room, Circe¡¯s pace dwindled until she came to a halt.


    The Saturday silence that reigned over most of the school didn¡¯t reign here. The boys that had stayed behind were gathered together, laughing, talking, or¡ªmuch to my amusement¡ªplaying hacky sack. Someone had found a bean bag. It was almost as bad as the paper ball.


    The noise trickled out from the open door. Circe stood in its flow and let it wash over her.


    ¡°They¡¯re lovely, aren¡¯t they?¡± she said.


    Turner stepped up to her side. ¡°I don¡¯t know. Some of them can be hellions when they try.¡±


    ¡°Paul, those are my favorite ones.¡±


    I leaned over, trying to see into the corner of the room.


    ¡°Emerra?¡± Circe said.


    I turned to her.


    ¡°What are you looking for?¡±


    ¡°I¡­uh¡­¡± I flipped my hand over in a minimal shrug. ¡°I was wondering if my friends were back from town. It doesn¡¯t look like they are.¡±


    ¡°You wanted me to meet them?¡±


    Since I couldn¡¯t play it cool, I decided to go for the enthusiasm angle. ¡°I sure did!¡±


    ¡°They have their phones until Sunday evening,¡± Turner said. ¡°I¡¯m sure one of them will text you when they get back.¡±


    ¡°That would have required one of us to be smart enough to mention exchanging numbers,¡± I said.


    Circe started marching again. ¡°Come on.¡±


    We went from the dining hall, through the inner courtyard, and into the south wing. Circe stopped in the middle of the hall.


    ¡°We go over here.¡± She raised her arm and pointed to the right.


    Turner said, ¡°But Reisig¡¯s rooms are¡ª¡±


    ¡°Nevertheless, we go over here. Thank you, Paul, but I know my way now.¡±


    The dismissal was clear. True to his resolve to never tell a witch what to do, Turner excused himself and left.


    ¡°What¡¯s down this way?¡± Circe asked.


    ¡°The old gym,¡± I said. ¡°It¡¯s where Reisig holds his classes.¡±


    ¡°Oh? I can¡¯t wait to meet him.¡±


    As we approached the door, we heard noises coming from inside the gym. I opened it wide and found Aaron Reisig pushing the chair-desks behind the bleachers. He was only half done with the task.


    He looked up as we approached.


    ¡°Good afternoon, Miss Cole,¡± he said. ¡°Did you want to talk to me? I was too tired to finish this yesterday, so I¡¯ve had to repent today. I won¡¯t be long.¡±


    ¡°I wanted to introduce you to someone,¡± I said.


    He paused his work and looked at the woman standing behind my shoulder. ¡°Oh?¡±


    Circe let out a loud, derisive huh. ¡°This is your psychic, Emerra?¡±


    I stepped back so I could see her. She was looking at Reisig through narrowed eyes.


    ¡°You¡¯ll have to tell Vasil to start looking somewhere else.¡± She turned as if to leave.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry¡ªwho is this?¡± Reisig asked.


    He sounded offended, and I couldn¡¯t blame him.


    ¡°You aren¡¯t a psychic, Mr. Reisig,¡± she called out. ¡°You are, first of all, a liar.¡±


    Reisig¡¯s face went red. ¡°You have no right to say that.¡±


    Circe turned one-eighty and pointed at him, her arm straight out, the stem of her pipe trained on his chest. ¡°Do you want to know what I see when I look at you? I see guilt. I see a paper with your name on it, and I see you crumpling it up, throwing it away. Tell her what that paper was, and why you had it, and then you can presume to tell me what I do and don¡¯t have the right to say.¡±


    Reisig¡¯s eyes darted over to me.


    I felt like some kind of small mammal caught in an argument between foxes. I couldn¡¯t understand what was going on, but I was pretty sure they were arguing about who would get to eat me.


    I threw up my hands and tried to look yucky.


    Reisig looked back at Circe. His face twisted, as if he was chewing over what he could say, then he clenched his jaw shut.


    ¡°Not yet?¡± Circe said. ¡°Fine. I¡¯m at my limit anyway. Goodbye, Mr. Reisig.¡±


    She turned and marched out. I ran after her. I wasn¡¯t about to leave a loose cannon like her running around.


    Not that I¡¯d be able to stop her if she decided to do¡­well, anything.


    I caught up a few feet down the hall. We walked past three rooms without either of us speaking, then Circe let out a quiet moan.


    If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.


    ¡°Oh, Emerra. I wish I had more time to give you. But it¡¯s only you and me now. Ask.¡±


    She didn¡¯t have to tell me twice.


    ¡°Who are you, really?¡± I said. ¡°How do you know all this stuff? And why are you so cryptic?¡±


    ¡°I was a witch born with an incredible talent for spiritual magic, and I used it. The Torr and several covens will tell you that I used it too much. It untethered me from time, and I became a seer.¡±


    My heart stalled.


    ¡°A seer,¡± I said. ¡°Like me?¡±


    Circe stopped and looked in my eyes. ¡°No. Not like you. No one in the world will be like you. But I¡¯m more like you than anyone else you¡¯ve met. It¡¯s the worst comparison possible, but it¡¯ll have to do.¡±


    ¡°Is that how you knew who I was?¡±


    ¡°Yes. I saw you before I came here.¡±


    ¡°And Darius?¡±


    She puffed on her pipe. ¡°Do you know how troublesome it is to see a man, know that you¡¯ll see him again in the distant future, and not know why he¡¯ll look the same?¡± She turned and kept walking. ¡°The damn vampire could have warned me.¡± She raised her head and said loudly, ¡°That¡¯s one of the troubles with my sight¡ªand the answer to your earlier question. I see. That doesn¡¯t mean I see everything. And I know even less. All you can be is cryptic when those are your limits.¡±


    ¡°But you knew he was a vampire this time. He didn¡¯t tell you.¡±


    ¡°I knew because you knew. Being around you warps my powers. I¡¯ve been seeing in threes. That¡¯s why I had to hurry. Between you and these horrible echoes, I¡¯m going to get the worst migraine.¡±


    We reached the end of the hall. Circe threw open the doors and led me into the yard.


    I was surprised by how dark the sky was. Thick storm clouds had moved in while we were walking through the school. They were so heavy, the tops of the trees and roofs of the buildings were barely enough to hold them up. A cold wind carried the scent of rain.


    ¡°We can get to my car from here, correct?¡± Circe said.


    I pointed to the right. She kept marching.


    ¡°How do my powers work?¡± I asked.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know. I haven¡¯t seen that.¡±


    My stomach sank.


    She snapped her fingers under my nose. ¡°Come on! Ask what you really need to ask.¡±


    I thought about that for a while. ¡°What do I really need to ask?¡±


    She smiled. ¡°An excellent question! If I were you, I would ask for advice about how to be a seer.¡±


    ¡°Okay. Do you have any advice for me?¡±


    ¡°I do. Let¡¯s start with alcohol. Avoid it. When you decide to ignore my good advice and experiment, make sure you do it in a safe place. People are always most vulnerable to influence when they¡¯re asleep or inebriated. Don¡¯t smoke. It¡¯s habit forming.¡±


    I couldn¡¯t help smiling at that. Ms. Elstein said that the best advice always came from hypocrites because they knew what they were doing wrong.


    Circe went on, ¡°If you feel like you¡¯re getting lost, keep a journal. It helps keep things straight. For the smaller headaches, put a bag of frozen peas on your neck and your feet in a tub of hot water. For the bigger headaches, you¡¯ll need darkness, a lavender eye pillow, and silence. Take your comfort wherever you can, however you can, and don¡¯t be shy about it. You¡¯ll need all the comfort you can get. It looks like it¡¯ll take some time for you to finish coming into your powers, but the rule of practice still applies. The more you work with your powers, the better you¡¯ll be at it. Don¡¯t assume that you won¡¯t make mistakes, and when you do, remember¡ªno one else in this world is perfect, so it¡¯s ridiculous to think you ought to be.¡±


    We reached her convertible. She stopped, turned, and sighed.


    ¡°I think that about covers it.¡± She removed her pipe. ¡°Thank you, Emerra. I¡¯ve always wanted to try giving advice like an old woman. It felt rather good.¡± She looked at me and tilted her head. ¡°But there¡¯s still something bothering you.¡±


    I scratched my eyebrow. ¡°It¡¯s¡­uh¡­not important.¡±


    ¡°So few things are. What¡¯s on your mind?¡±


    The words got jumbled up in my chest. I had to untangle them from my bashfulness and sorrow.


    ¡°I¡¯m tired of feeling helpless,¡± I admitted. ¡°I don¡¯t want to be a fair maiden. You seem so strong¡ª¡±


    ¡°Strong?¡± Circe laughed. ¡°That guardian of yours could snap me in half with two fingers. I¡¯m not strong, I¡¯m brazen. There¡¯s a difference.¡±


    ¡°But¡ª¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Emerra. You could pretend to be brazen if you like, but it won¡¯t give you what you want. You¡¯ll still need other people.¡±


    That hit like a train. Choo-choo!¡ªhave some insight! You think it¡¯s about strength? It¡¯s not.


    She went on, completely ignoring my remains, splattered across the tracks.


    ¡°Like it or not, you¡¯ve been given a rare gift, and there¡¯ll be times when it gets you into trouble. You¡¯ll need strong people around to protect you during those times. But strength isn¡¯t the only virtue. All those strong people¡ªlet them do their work.¡± She reached out and rested her fingers on my arm. ¡°You, do yours.¡±


    Her hand fell away. ¡°Speaking of which, when we¡¯re done talking, you¡¯re going to go back to Mr. Reisig and talk to him. You¡¯ll find him in the old gym.¡±


    ¡°Are you telling me what to do?¡± I teased.


    ¡°Hardly. I¡¯m telling you what you will do. There¡¯s a difference.¡±


    Circe opened her car door and sat down. After knocking her pipe out onto the gravel, she reached for the glove box and pulled out her kerchief.


    All of her other movements had been so sharp and measured, it was odd seeing how slowly she tied the kerchief under her chin.


    Once the knot was in place, she said, quietly, ¡°Emerra, this place isn¡¯t good for you. You know that. The longer you stay, the more you¡¯ll suffer. Would you like to come home with me? It¡¯s a safe place, only two hours away.¡±


    The wind gusted. I grabbed the sides of my hoodie and pulled them close, wrapping my arms around myself. I bent down until I could lean on her door.


    ¡°Thank you, Circe, but I want to stay here. There¡¯s Darius, and Conrad¡ªand I have to look after my four musketeers.¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± she grumbled. ¡°I knew you¡¯d say that.¡±


    ¡°Will I see you again?¡±


    She looked at me for a second, then looked forward, turned on her car, and put it in gear. ¡°You will. And sooner than you might think.¡±


    I stepped back so she could peel out of the drive. When the car was almost out of sight, she raised one hand in farewell. I waved back. Then I went to find Reisig.


    He was in the old gym, sitting on the bleachers, staring out at the chair-desks still in the middle of the floor. He hadn¡¯t done any work since Circe and I left him. His elbows were on his knees and his folded hands were resting between his legs. His head was bowed.


    I walked over and sat beside him. Since I didn¡¯t know what to say, I didn¡¯t say anything.


    A minute passed before he took a deep breath and raised his head.


    ¡°Was she a psychic?¡± he asked.


    ¡°She was a witch,¡± I said.


    ¡°A witch,¡± he echoed, softly.


    I put my arms on the bench behind us and leaned back. ¡°Things are going to be different if Wuller gets his way. Psychics will be a part of the Torr. You¡¯ll have to meet all of them. The witches. The sorcerers. The alchemists¡ª¡±


    ¡°It sounds like a fantasy book.¡±


    ¡°So do psychics.¡±


    He shook his head. ¡°What a joke. Every time I think I¡¯m finally treading water, another wave rolls over me. If only¡ªright? If only I had stopped. I had a hundred chances. Where¡¯s that voice that¡¯s supposed to tell you when to cut your losses?¡±


    ¡°Oh, that voice,¡± I said. ¡°I know that one. The problem is, it won¡¯t shut up, so people have to train themselves to ignore it.¡±


    When I glanced over, there was a faint smile on Reisig¡¯s otherwise troubled face.


    ¡°People, as in, yourself?¡± he asked.


    I made a popping sound with my mouth and touched a finger to the end of my nose. ¡°Right on the button. Mine¡¯s still nice and loud. What about you?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re right. It could be screaming at me¡ªI¡¯ve trained myself to ignore it.¡± He sighed and leaned back like me. ¡°What are your powers, Miss Cole?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Reisig, I can¡¯t tell you that.¡±


    He let his eyes rest on a spot near the ceiling. ¡°I liked my job. Never in a million years would I have thought I¡¯d like being a teacher, but I do. Then, just when I¡¯m starting to get the hang of it, you come along. When did you figure out I wasn¡¯t a psychic?¡±


    I chuckled. ¡°Honestly, I had no idea until Circe called you a liar.¡±


    He let out a despairing laugh. ¡°Are you serious?¡±


    I nodded.


    ¡°Fuck.¡± He pushed back on the bench to sit up straight. ¡°I found the note in your pocket on the night you collapsed. My name was on it.¡±


    ¡°You took it out of my pocket and brought it over to the staff hall?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    Well, that was one mystery solved.


    ¡°Did you attack me?¡± I asked.


    ¡°I swear to god, Miss Cole, I didn¡¯t. I saw someone walking down the hall. I didn¡¯t know who it was. I thought you were a student, sneaking around. When I turned off my light and started to come after you, you started humming. You stopped¡ªI thought you¡¯d heard me or something¡ªthen you started acting crazy and fainted. When I ran up to you, your eyes were rolling back in your head.¡±


    My cheeks were hot with embarrassment. I could have gone my whole life happily thinking that no one had seen that particular event.


    I decided to prod him past the memory: ¡°You took me to Norris?¡±


    ¡°I picked you up and felt the paper in your pocket.¡±


    ¡°So you stole it.¡±


    ¡°I knew you and Vasil were investigating me.¡±


    ¡°Reisig, we¡¯re investigating the boys¡¯ powers. We¡¯re trying to figure out where they¡¯re coming from. You were hired around the time the powers started showing up, so your name was on the list.¡±


    ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter. I couldn¡¯t have kept up the act for much longer. As soon as the first team showed up from the Torr, I knew I was in trouble. When they didn¡¯t spot me, I thought I might be able to bluff it out.¡± He shook his head again.


    ¡°All the attention the boys were getting was a real problem for you, wasn¡¯t it?¡± I said.


    ¡°My ideal life would have been if March of last year had lasted forever. There were an easy number of boys in each class, it only took a few hours to grade assignments, and Wuller only came in occasionally to check on how we were doing. For the first time in years, I had a job that felt safe. Then everything started getting out of hand.¡±


    I looked out over the empty gym. There were scorch marks under the chair-desks. Lined up along the floor were fire extinguishers and buckets of water. Worn tape, marking distances, pointed to the battered walls.


    It was quiet. The room was resting.


    ¡°Do you know where the boys¡¯ powers are coming from?¡± I asked.


    ¡°No,¡± Reisig muttered. ¡°As more of them started showing up, I thought maybe it¡¯d happen to me. After all those years of pretending, maybe I¡¯d wake up and actually be a psychic. But it didn¡¯t turn out that way.¡±


    His hands curled into fists. He rested them on his thighs, pushed himself upright, and turned to me.


    ¡°May I ask what you¡¯re going to do, Miss Cole?¡±


    There was a lot of emotion in his eyes. Too much for me to think clearly while I was looking at them. I looked down at my shoes and bopped the sides of my sneakers together.


    After a while, I said, ¡°Turner thinks you¡¯re a good teacher. So does Wes. I think that¡¯s what the boys need right now. I¡¯ll come and talk to you when we¡¯re done with the investigation. We¡¯ll figure something out.¡± I stood up. ¡°I know it isn¡¯t much, but that¡¯s all I can give you.¡±


    ¡°I understand. Thank you.¡±


    When I left the old gym, I let my feet carry me toward the main wing, idly pretending the boards were balance beams as I walked. I was so lost in thought, Wes had to call my name twice before I heard him.


    The boys were coming in the main doors.


    ¡°Hey, guys!¡± I smiled. ¡°How was it out there?¡±


    Scott stumbled over the others to get to me first. ¡°We¡¯ve got more candy for you!¡±


    He flourished the packages like a deck of cards.


    My heart swelled with affection. Screw British propriety! I gathered as many of them as I could in my arms (Dustin escaped) and squeezed.


    My voice was choked and heavy. ¡°I¡¯m never going to let anything happen to you guys.¡±


    ¡°Emerra,¡± Eric said as he tried to escape from my eternal devotion, ¡°why do you smell like smoke?¡±

 Chapter 40 - One in a Billion Chance

    When I got back to our rooms, Darius and Conrad both turned to me.


    ¡°It¡¯s not Reisig,¡± I said.


    Conrad let out a sigh through his long nose and looked away.


    Darius grunted. ¡°I suspected as much.¡±


    ¡°You knew?¡± I asked.


    ¡°When I was at the Psychic Society, I looked up Reisig. He has quite a large file. The society was split on whether or not he was a fake.¡±


    Darius moved away from the desk chair where he¡¯d been sitting and went over to the couch. Since Conrad was already in the armchair, I sat next to Darius.


    ¡°You won¡¯t tell Wuller, will you?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Is there a reason I shouldn¡¯t?¡± Darius said.


    ¡°Can you give me a few days? Please?¡±


    The count considered me for a while before answering. ¡°Fine.¡±


    ¡°Have you talked to Wuller again?¡±


    ¡°Not since I asked him if Circe could visit.¡±


    ¡°What are you going to tell him?¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ll tell him about the building, and that Circe confirmed there were psychic echoes. I think he¡¯ll like that.¡±


    ¡°Psychic echoes?¡± Conrad said. ¡°Is that a real term?¡±


    ¡°It is now,¡± Darius said.


    ¡°If we¡¯re telling him all this, does that mean he¡¯s no longer a suspect?¡±


    Darius rubbed his cheekbone with the edge of his thumb. Conrad and I waited.


    ¡°It¡¯s first of all a precaution,¡± Darius said. ¡°Wuller doesn¡¯t seem inclined to kick us out at the moment, and I¡¯d like to keep it that way. I could get a warrant to continue our investigation, but I¡¯d rather avoid having to do that.¡±


    I was not about to let him get away with that. ¡°You didn¡¯t answer Conrad¡¯s question.¡±


    ¡°Everyone remains a suspect until they¡¯re proven innocent or the real culprit is found.¡±


    ¡°How can it be him?¡± Conrad asked. ¡°Wuller knows about psychics and a little bit about the magical community, but we¡¯ve never found a tool, and he¡¯s not a magician.¡±


    ¡°Or a psychic,¡± I said.


    My comment hit the conversation like a blunt ax.


    The vampire frowned. ¡°That¡¯s true. And now we have a much better understanding of why he built the school.¡±


    ¡°But he¡¯s still a suspect?¡± I prompted.


    ¡°An unlikely suspect is still a suspect, Emerra.¡±


    You had to admire his stubbornness.


    ¡°What about Reisig?¡± Conrad asked.


    ¡°It¡¯s the same problem, isn¡¯t it?¡± I said. ¡°He knows stuff about psychics, but he isn¡¯t one. Besides, he¡¯s got no motive. The more attention the school got¡ªespecially from the Torr¡ªthe more likely it was he¡¯d be exposed.¡±


    ¡°Could it be Miller?¡± Conrad asked.


    Darius said, ¡°Of everyone we¡¯ve found so far, Miller has the most knowledge about psychic and magical powers, but everything I¡¯ve learned says that he has no power himself.¡±


    ¡°You checked?¡± I asked.


    My chest felt tight. I hated the idea that Miller had been a suspect before I realized it.


    Of course, if I had been thinking, I might have realized it about the time I learned he was a member of the Psychic Society.


    ¡°I was at the Torr headquarters and the Psychic Society,¡± Darius said. ¡°I checked every name I had.¡±


    The tension in my chest eased. I didn¡¯t mind that; it seemed like a nice, democratic mistrust of mankind.


    Conrad said, ¡°With his knowledge, that still makes him a more likely suspect than Wuller or Reisig.¡±


    ¡°What would be his motive?¡± Darius asked.


    ¡°Emerra said that he was jealous of power.¡±


    ¡°I think that was before,¡± I murmured.


    ¡°Before what?¡± Conrad said.


    ¡°Before he got scared.¡±


    ¡°But that could just mean that his experiment got out of hand,¡± Darius said.


    Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    A flush of anger crept up my neck. This was Miller, they were talking about. Our pillar Miller! The world¡¯s greatest assistant. He wasn¡¯t like that. He was thoughtful, and he cared about the truth.


    ¡°Then how¡¯s he doing it?¡± I demanded.


    Conrad and Darius didn¡¯t answer.


    ¡°It¡¯s easy to say it¡¯s him because of his background, but how¡¯s he doing it? Can you even use magic to make a psychic?¡±


    ¡°Iset and I have talked to a number of experts. Everyone¡¯s said they don¡¯t know a way,¡± Darius admitted. ¡°Several of them have told us it¡¯s impossible. Currently, our only lead for how the perpetrator is doing it are the psychic echoes.¡±


    ¡°Circe said they couldn¡¯t create psychics,¡± Conrad pointed out.


    ¡°Not unless there is a psychic,¡± I said.


    ¡°But why would a psychic want to make more psychics?¡± Conrad asked. ¡°At least Wuller¡¯s and Resig¡¯s motives made sense.¡±


    ¡°Maybe they¡¯re doing it to see if it¡¯s possible,¡± Darius said.


    ¡°But if the echoes are the cause, then it would only work while they¡¯re in the school.¡±


    ¡°The psychic might not care, or it¡¯s possible he isn¡¯t doing it on purpose.¡±


    Conrad and I both fell silent.


    I don¡¯t know what the wolfman was going through, but the moment Darius uttered his last suggestion, a black hole opened in my head, stretching my thoughts, sucking them in.


    ¡°That¡¯s why there¡¯s no good motive,¡± I said. ¡°There isn¡¯t one.¡±


    I looked up. Conrad¡¯s ears were alert, but there was a slight frown of concentration at the edge of his muzzle.


    ¡°Is it possible for someone to turn one hundred and eight boys into psychics on accident?¡± he asked.


    Darius frowned and a hand went to his face.


    ¡°No! Guys, think about it!¡± I scooted to the front of the couch. ¡°There¡¯s only one lead for how this is being done¡ªthe echoes. The echoes would require a psychic. So let¡¯s say there¡¯s a psychic here. Those echoes are powerful enough to bother me. I¡¯ve been here, what? Five days? Six? Can you imagine how bad it¡¯d be for a psychic to live here?¡±


    ¡°Bad,¡± Conrad said.


    His voice was soft and empathetic. I looked up in surprise. When my eyes met his, his gaze darted off into a corner, and his ears wiggled around in embarrassment.


    ¡°I¡¯ve seen you dealing with your nightmares,¡± he said.


    Tag me in, bro! My turn to be embarrassed.


    Cheeks still aching, I said, ¡°Exactly! Reisig told us that psychic powers are at their peak when the psychic is upset, and you¡±¡ªI pointed to Darius¡ª¡°said that the psychics tend to appear at night. Circe said that people like¡ª¡±


    My throat suddenly withered up to the size of a pin. Why was this so hard to say? I had to swallow before I could speak.


    ¡°She said people like us are most vulnerable when we¡¯re drunk or asleep. So he falls asleep, and he¡¯s hit by all the echoes. That would upset anyone, and he¡¯s probably not going to have a lot of control over his power when he¡¯s asleep. It lashes out randomly.¡±


    ¡°If the psychics were only accidentally in the line of fire, that could explain why most of them only manifested a power once or twice,¡± Conrad said.


    ¡°What about the boys who can control their powers?¡± Darius asked.


    ¡°They¡¯re the most psychically inclined,¡± I suggested. ¡°Maybe the touch of the real psychic¡¯s powers was enough to push them into it.¡±


    ¡°And the echoes might be acting like some kind of amplifier,¡± Conrad said.


    Darius murmured, ¡°If you take someone who¡¯s only psychically inclined and give them power, it seems natural they¡¯d develop a low complexity talent.¡±


    He was rubbing his jaw again. After a hundred years of being way too thoughtful, I¡¯m pretty sure the only reason he hadn¡¯t rubbed a hole in his face was because of his ultra-healing ability.


    ¡°For this theory to be true,¡± Darius said, ¡°the psychic would need to have both a perceptive and influential talent.¡±


    ¡°Sure,¡± I said. ¡°They¡¯d have to be influenced by the echoes.¡±


    ¡°And they¡¯d have to be able to influence the world around them¡ªa lot. Fire? Electricity?¡± Darius dashed his hand off to the side. ¡°That¡¯s nothing. We¡¯re talking about the ability to influence another person¡¯s nature. That means aurakinesis or better. We¡¯re most likely looking for an elite psychic.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s an elite psychic?¡± Conrad asked.


    ¡°A person with a rare and exceptional psychic talent,¡± Darius said. ¡°The higher you go along the complexity scale, the more likely you are to find psychics that have more than one talent. The ones at the top are the elite psychics.¡±


    ¡°They have them all?¡± I asked.


    The vampire nodded. ¡°They¡¯re the most sensitive and the most powerful.¡±


    ¡°Is this something you learned at the Psychic Society?¡± Conrad asked.


    ¡°I heard about them at the Psychic Society. I researched them while I was at the Torr¡¯s headquarters. The Torr¡¯s had to deal with most of them.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡± I demanded.


    ¡°Because they¡¯re the ones that cause the most trouble.¡±


    When I clenched my teeth, I realized it was aggravating a headache that had snuck into my skull, unnoticed. Whoever this theoretical psychic was, my heart went out to them.


    Darius continued, ¡°If they are an elite psychic, they should have both telepathic and empathic abilities, but none of the psychics at this school have ever demonstrated either of those talents.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s because they¡¯re hiding,¡± Conrad said.


    ¡°Do you think so?¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ve been talking like people would want these powers,¡± I said, ¡°but it¡¯s not like that¡ªnot when they actually have them. Jolie is terrified to leave his body when his power activates. Wes won¡¯t even show his parents what he can do. Miller got freaked out when he saw them. Even Wuller! He¡¯s the most excited about these powers, but what did he say? ¡®The life of a psychic¡ª¡¯¡±


    ¡°¡®¡ªis a hard one,¡¯¡± Darius finished for me.


    ¡°Full of pain and uncertainty,¡± I added.


    The count sighed. ¡°All right. Theorize. Let¡¯s say this psychic exists. What do we know about him?¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s been here for at least a year,¡± Conrad said, ¡°and he¡¯s still here.¡±


    ¡°He most likely sleeps in the building,¡± Darius noted.


    I said, ¡°He¡¯s going out of his way to hide his abilities, even in a place that¡¯s supposed to welcome them. To me, that sounds like he¡¯s had problems with them in the past.¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s probably upset and scared,¡± Conrad added.


    Darius sat up in his chair. ¡°He¡¯s a student.¡±


    Conrad and I glanced at each other. After all that stuff about everyone being a suspect, it seemed weird that Darius was willing to write off the teachers and staff.


    ¡°You¡¯re sure?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Emerra, bring me the map that Miller gave you.¡±


    While I did that, Darius said, ¡°The third-year students are staying in a different building. That¡¯s why they¡¯re not affected. None of the teachers have manifested a power either. Why? Because they sleep in a different part of the school.¡±


    I laid the map down on the coffee table in front of Darius. He leaned over to inspect it.


    Conrad said, ¡°Reisig told us most abilities appear when the psychic is a teenager. Maybe the boys are more receptive.¡±


    ¡°I heard him having a nightmare,¡± Darius said. ¡°Our second night here, I was outside, walking the grounds.¡± He put his finger down in the center of the back wing. ¡°That is where the first- and second-year dorms are, correct?¡±


    He was right, but I didn¡¯t bother confirming it.


    ¡°Why are you so sure it was the psychic?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Because at first I thought it was you,¡± he said.


    The hair on my arms stood up. ¡°We have to find him.¡±


    Darius pushed the map away. ¡°I agree. The powers are getting stronger and becoming more frequent. If he¡¯s doing this on accident, that means he¡¯s under stress and losing control.¡±


    I thought about the teachers quitting mid term and the students jumping over the wall. The idea that there was a boy at the end of this all, struggling to hold it together, dealing with nightmares like mine, made my whole body ache with sympathy.


    ¡°Right!¡± I said. ¡°What do we do?¡±

 Chapter 41 - Dinner Ordeal

    Darius said he would talk to Miller.


    ¡°Maybe there¡¯s something in the boys¡¯ backgrounds that could help.¡±


    Since I hadn¡¯t been attacked, the count was grudgingly willing to let me go without a guardian, which freed up Conrad to talk to Wuller.


    My job was to deal with the boys. All two hundred and eighty of them.


    ¡°Can¡¯t I just make a school wide announcement?¡± I asked.


    ¡°That won¡¯t work if he¡¯s trying to hide from us,¡± Darius said, ¡°and there¡¯s no telling what he¡¯ll do once he knows we¡¯re looking.¡±


    ¡°And we might be wrong,¡± Conrad pointed out.


    ¡°That¡¯s also a possibility. Try to be subtle, Emerra.¡±


    I decided to keep the loudspeaker idea as option C. Option A was to sit in the middle of the dining hall and think, really loudly, Can any of you read my mind? to see if anyone reacted.


    I had to dismiss that idea too. It spared me from school-wide humiliation, but I wasn¡¯t sure about my ability to stay focused on one thing long enough to catch the psychic, and if he was hiding, then the chances were high all I¡¯d do is warn him that we were on to him.


    That left option B: try to nonchalantly ask the students if they¡¯d noticed anything weird¡­but not, like, the everyday weird you¡¯d expect when you¡¯re living in a psychic academy¡ªweird weird.


    Smile. Look interested. But not too interested.


    I was about a subtle as a brick.


    ¡°Emerra?¡± It was Eric. ¡°You okay?¡±


    We were at dinner. I was sitting with the musketeers, poking at the food on my tray, and puzzling over how to find a telepath that doesn¡¯t want to be found.


    I tapped my fork on my tray. ¡°Yeah.¡±


    Eric scowled at me, and I got the feeling he¡¯d keep on scowling at me until I told him the truth.


    ¡°We learned some stuff today,¡± I said. ¡°I¡¯m still trying to process it.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a lot to process, isn¡¯t it?¡± a voice behind me said.


    My legs banged the table when I jumped, making my tray rattle. Now there was a voice I didn¡¯t like having appear behind me without warning.


    When I turned, Christopher Norris was smiling down at me with his watery smile. ¡°I heard that you brought a rather interesting guest into the school. I was wondering if you¡¯d be willing to tell me about her. Did you summon her here to investigate the building?¡±


    ¡°What about the building?¡± Eric demanded.


    ¡°The state of our education system always causes me to despair.¡± As Norris shook his head, his eyes stayed fixed on Eric. ¡°I wonder¡ªwould you have struggled so much in history if, instead of wars and kings, we¡¯d taught you something interesting?¡±


    ¡°I did fine in history.¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t,¡± Scott piped up. ¡°What¡¯s interesting?¡±


    ¡°The history of Setlan on Lee is rather piquant,¡± Norris said.


    Scott leaned toward Dustin and whispered loudly, ¡°Piquant? Wha¡ªwhat does ¡®piquant¡¯ mean?¡±


    ¡°It means bitter,¡± Dustin said. He laid his fork down beside his tray.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry to correct you¡±¡ªNorris didn¡¯t sound sorry. He sounded almost cheery¡ª¡°it means pleasantly sharp in taste.¡±


    Dustin raised his eyes to meet the nurse¡¯s, and for the first time, I saw Christopher Norris lose a staring contest.


    He withdrew by turning his gaze on me.


    ¡°Miss Cole?¡±


    I shook my head to wake myself out of the mental stupor that always crept over me when Norris was around. ¡°Sorry?¡±


    ¡°The pipe smoker. Was she here to investigate the building?¡±


    A stroke of pure and perfect genius struck me.


    ¡°It was actually Darius that brought her in,¡± I said. ¡°You¡¯d have to ask him.¡±


    Norris stared at me.


    ¡°Mr. Vasil?¡± I pointed to the head table. ¡°He¡¯s up there, sitting next to the wolfman.¡± And neither of them are afraid of you.


    His eyes followed the line of my arm. ¡°Ah. Yes. Thank you.¡± He bowed to me, then set off toward the front of the room.


    ¡°What was that all about?¡± Wes said.


    ¡°What¡¯s wrong with the building?¡± Dustin asked.


    I poked a little more viciously at my food. ¡°This place used to be an insane asylum. Norris told me about it.¡±


    ¡°An insane asylum?¡± Scott¡¯s face broke into a gigantic, disbelieving grin. He laughed. ¡°That¡¯s¡­whoa! That¡¯s brilliant!¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t see why,¡± Eric grumbled. ¡°It just means things haven¡¯t changed much.¡±


    Wes nudged Eric by leaning into him. ¡°You¡¯re crazy to be here.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re crazy to stay.¡±


    I tried to smile. It hurt, and it was so brittle it cracked in less than a second, but I wanted to give them that smile. Let them think it was cool. Let them laugh about it. They could only enjoy it because they were being thoughtless, but it seemed better to me than mourning for people who were decades beyond the reach of their sympathy.


    ¡°Was the witch here to find out if it was true?¡± Dustin asked.


    ¡°Yeah,¡± I lied.


    I wasn¡¯t in the mood to explain all the details. I knew I¡¯d have to do it eventually, but first I needed to stab my already well-punctured dinner.


    The conversation passed on to other things. I wasn¡¯t listening. I watched Norris walk up to Darius. The count didn¡¯t look pleased to have the man¡¯s company.


    When the nurse motioned toward my table, Darius looked over. Our eyes met before he looked away.


    In that brief glance, I thought I saw an ah of realization. The vampire¡¯s aloof demeanor vanished. He pushed back the empty chair beside him. Norris sat down.


    God bless that vampire. I owed him, big-time.


    I was trying to figure out what his favorite candy might be when the lights flickered.


    Everyone in the hall looked up. The lights flickered again.


    ¡°Truhurst!¡± Turner shouted.


    ¡°It¡¯s not me!¡± the boy yelled back.


    ¡°Shit,¡± Eric whispered.


    Wes reached out and put his hand on Eric¡¯s arm.


    ¡°It¡¯s okay,¡± Scott said. ¡°It¡¯s only the storm.¡± He tried to sound indifferent, but his voice was too expressive to hide his nervousness.


    Scott wasn¡¯t the only one who was nervous. The whole room had been engulfed by tension. I could feel it piling over me, pressing down. Everyone was silent. All you could hear was the rain and the wind pressing on the outside walls.


    A low muttering started at the table next to us.


    ¡°Turner!¡± a boy called. His hand was clamped over the shoulder of his twitching friend.


    The teacher ran over. The convulsing boy¡¯s eyes were wide open, unseeing, and he muttered without a break, creating an endless stream of syllables. The longer this went on, the more his body clenched, curling around itself into a stiff, misshapen ball.


    ¡°It¡¯s Brown,¡± Wes said.


    Wuller stood up at the head table. ¡°Are you recording him?¡±


    Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.


    Turner wasn¡¯t. And it didn¡¯t look like he cared. He lifted the boy off the bench and set him on the floor.


    Another whisper of endless muttering sprung up on our other side. Everyone¡¯s head turned toward it.


    Behind me, Turner said, ¡°It¡¯s starting.¡±


    The room filled with the sound of a dozen chairs being pushed back. The teachers stood up and moved to the main floor. The ones that were already there were heading toward certain students. The targeted boys weren¡¯t muttering yet. I could see one making a disgusted face. Another¡¯s jaw was clenched. One was hiding his face with his hand. One was in tears.


    Then, one by one, their expressions blanked, and another whisper joined the stream.


    ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡± I asked.


    The boys didn¡¯t answer.


    Random trays at every table started trembling. The telekinetics were leaning over, pressing their temples with their palms, eyes squeezed shut.


    In the distance I thought I heard Iver¡¯s rough laugh.


    Reisig walked down the edge of the room. ¡°Pyros! Move away from your tables!¡±


    Most of them did. Wes ignored the instruction.


    ¡°Can we get out of here?¡± Scott whispered.


    My head whipped around to stare at him. I¡¯d never heard such raw fear in someone¡¯s voice before.


    ¡°Please,¡± he said, looking right at me.


    I didn¡¯t know what to say.


    Three boys stood up. One clutched at the edge of his table as if it was the edge of a cliff. Another was grabbed by his friends. The last one stumbled over the bench he was sitting on. He tried to catch himself, but it was like he was trying to grab onto a world that didn¡¯t exist. His hand reached for nothing and found exactly that. He hit the bench, then rolled to the floor, slamming his shoulder and head as he did.


    The lights flickered again. One second of darkness. Two.


    They came back on.


    ¡°No!¡± Someone screamed over the river of muttering. ¡°Don¡¯t touch me!¡±


    I looked around. A teacher was reaching for the boy, but he yanked himself away from everyone. His back hit the wall, and his eyes went wide. He slid to the floor.


    The lights went off. This time I could see the sallow faces of the students by the light of the pyros¡¯ fires.


    I heard Eric: ¡°Wes?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve got it,¡± Wes said. It sounded like he was talking through grit teeth.


    I stood up. A cold hand reached out and fastened on my wrist. When the lights came back on, I was looking down at Dustin.


    ¡°Don¡¯t,¡± he whispered. ¡°There¡¯s nothing you can do.¡±


    He peeled his icy fingers off my arm.


    ¡°Nothing?¡± I said.


    ¡°It¡¯ll pass,¡± Wes hissed.


    ¡°We can leave,¡± Scott whispered. ¡°Please! I don¡¯t want to be here!¡±


    ¡°Wes isn¡¯t supposed to leave,¡± Eric said.


    Every lightbulb in the room burst at once. The deafening crack made my heart skip and my body spasm. Glass rained down from the lofted ceiling.


    Wes stood up. ¡°That¡¯s a daft rule anyway. We¡¯re leaving.¡±


    Eric and Dustin weren¡¯t even a second behind him.


    Scott stayed seated. His trembling was so bad, I could see it by the firelight. I took his hand and pulled him to his feet.


    Neither of us let go when he was standing.


    Hand in hand, we followed Wes as he dodged toward the east wing.


    When the door closed behind us, the darkness was complete. A soft murmur was all that remained of the eerie noises behind us.


    ¡°They¡¯ll have to reset the breakers,¡± Eric said.


    Wes ignited his hand and held it up like a torch.


    ¡°Come on,¡± he said.


    I tried to figure out where we were going, but I got distracted when I felt Scott squeeze my hand.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± he said under his breath.


    I slowed down so we¡¯d be closer together. ¡°For what?¡± I whispered back.


    ¡°You must think I¡¯m a baby.¡±


    I pulled him closer. ¡°You¡¯re talking to the girl who had to be carried outside by a wolfman.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know what happened.¡±


    I couldn¡¯t see his face well, but his voice sounded choked. It wouldn¡¯t have surprised me if he was crying.


    He went on, ¡°I¡¯ve never been that scared before.¡±


    ¡°If I told you I totally get it, would you believe me?¡±


    I thought I saw the flash of teeth in the firelight. He was smiling again. The world was a better place when Scott was smiling.


    ¡°Do you think the wolfman will carry me outside?¡± he asked.


    ¡°He¡¯s not here right now. Would you settle for a piggyback ride from a bald chick?¡±


    His grin was all the warning I had. I braced myself, and less than a second later, he put his hands on my shoulders and boosted himself onto my back.


    ¡°Tally ho!¡± he said, pointing over my shoulder.


    ¡°Yee-haw!¡± I said.


    I ran, as well as I could, to catch up to the other three. They had stopped to wait for us. As I galumphed into the light of Wes¡¯s fire, Scott and I caught sight of their incredulous expressions. We both laughed.


    ¡°What?¡± Scott demanded.


    ¡°Really?¡± Eric said.


    ¡°I¡¯m yon fair maiden in distress!¡± Scott cried.


    ¡°And I get to be a knight!¡± I said.


    Wes laughed. Dustin shook his head.


    ¡°You¡¯re not a knight,¡± Eric said. ¡°At best you¡¯re a knight¡¯s horse.¡±


    ¡°What? Just because I can¡¯t dead lift someone who¡¯s almost as big as me?¡±


    Wes turned to Dustin. ¡°Is it true they shoot a horse if it collapses?¡±


    ¡°No piggyback ride for you,¡± I said.


    Scott tapped my shoulder. ¡°Onward! Don¡¯t let these knaves distract you.¡±


    The knaves led out. For some reason I was walking slower than normal.


    Minutes later, we stopped in front of a door in the middle of a hall. Scott jumped down. I was still trying to figure out what door and which hall when Wes reached out with the hand he wasn¡¯t using as a torch and tried the handle.


    ¡°It¡¯s locked,¡± he reported.


    ¡°Are you sure?¡± Dustin asked.


    Eric reached out next. The handle caught where it had for Wes, but Eric tightened his hand around the knob and kept turning. It gave way under his grip.


    ¡°It¡¯s not locked,¡± Eric said as he pushed the heavy door open. ¡°Wes is just weak. No one locks this door.¡±


    It was one of the tower rooms. Thick drops of rain beat off the tall windows that stood like soldiers in the angled walls, creating a protective semi-circle around us. There was no furniture. Nothing but a small staircase that wound around the outside of the room. Eric, Dustin, Scott, and I all sat down on the floor and nestled into the curve of the staircase.


    Wes climbed up the stairs until he reached the first sconce. He pulled a candle from it, brought it back down, and lit the wick. We watched the melted wax build up at the top of the candle. Then Wes tilted it, allowing the wax to fall onto a greasy stain already on the floor.


    ¡°You¡¯ve done this before?¡± I asked.


    ¡°This is our get-away-from-everyone cave,¡± Scott explained. ¡°The common rooms can get crowded sometimes.¡±


    Wes stood the candle up by pressing the end into the wax, then shook out the fire on his hand. That done, he scooted back to lean on the wall with us.


    The long silence and the candle¡¯s steady, gentle light coaxed out the worst of our fear. The less I could feel my anxiety, the more my curiosity gnawed at me.


    ¡°What happened back there?¡± I asked.


    The boys were all watching the flame. Eight small sparks of orange were reflected in their eyes. Scott shuffled his feet so he could hold his knees up to his chest.


    Eric answered me: ¡°We don¡¯t know.¡±


    ¡°The psychic powers all start to go off at once,¡± Wes said. ¡°We don¡¯t know why. Wooly calls them ¡®birthing pangs.¡¯¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s all a part of the process,¡± Eric sneered.


    ¡°What does it mean?¡± I said. ¡°Birthing pangs?¡±


    Scott leaned closer to me without looking away from the tranquil light. ¡°This has happened three times. Each time, something happens that night, and we get a new psychic. Usually a powerful one.¡±


    My stomach felt hollow and breezy, like a wind was whistling through a cave. ¡°No one told us about this.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not usually this bad,¡± Dustin said.


    Eric added, ¡°And Wuller¡¯s smart enough to know it would upset people, so he¡¯s been hiding it until we¡¯re already a part of the precious Torr.¡± He let his head drop toward his chest. ¡°I fucking hate this school.¡±


    ¡°No, you don¡¯t.¡± Wes tried to use a light voice, and he forced a smile.


    Eric looked up. ¡°Yes, I do.¡±


    ¡°Eric,¡± Scott said pleadingly.


    ¡°It¡¯s fine for you! You can leave whenever you want!¡± Eric nodded to Wes and Dustin. ¡°Both of you can!¡± His eyes narrowed. ¡°But why would you want to? The king and his peasants. Wuller¡¯s favorite freak.¡±


    Wes¡¯s smile vanished, replaced by nothing. His face was impassive.


    ¡°You want to leave?¡± The question spilled out of Dustin. His fingers pressed into his crossed arms.


    ¡°Of course I do!¡± Eric said. ¡°Do you think it¡¯s fun, waiting around to see if you¡¯re going to be next? You sleep in the same room with him!¡± He stabbed the air, pointing to Osborn. ¡°Aren¡¯t you afraid you¡¯re going to wake up on fire some night? Or not wake up at all?¡±


    Dustin¡¯s eyes darted over to his roommate.


    Wes said, ¡°I haven¡¯t lost control like that since January.¡± It sounded like he was chipping each word off a stone.


    ¡°How comforting.¡± I had no idea you could put sarcasm into a shrug, but Eric managed it. ¡°In the meantime, Scott and I are stuck. Do you think I have any choice in the matter? You think his mom can afford a different boarding school?¡±


    ¡°Lay off,¡± Scott said softly.


    Everyone went quiet. Eric¡¯s anger dissolved when he saw the rage peering out at him from the orange sparks in Scott¡¯s eyes. No one moved. There was a strange animal in our midst. No one knew what it would do if startled.


    Scott went on, ¡°Don¡¯t you ever fucking make it out like this is her fault. You think she wouldn¡¯t take me home the moment I told her something was wrong? She asks me every time she sees me¡ªAre the kids treating you okay? Do you have friends? I¡¯m choosing to be here, Eric.¡±


    He finally broke eye contact. The wild animal was gone. Scott looked back at the candle and took a deep breath. We all did.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry¡ª¡± Eric started to say.


    Scott rushed to cut him off. ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it.¡±


    Wes scooted closer to the candle and held up his hand. The flame flexed toward him. ¡°Why are you staying, Scott?¡±


    ¡°Maybe it¡¯s because I¡¯m surrounded by such a nice group of muppets.¡±


    I tried to keep back my laugh, but it came out as a snort.


    ¡°A Muppet?¡± I pulled out my best imitation: ¡°¡®Hi Ho! Kermit the Frog here!¡¯¡±


    Then I giggled. Wes chuckled, and the other three boys smiled.


    Wes raised a finger. The flame followed it. When he jerked it up, part of the flame jumped into the air before disappearing in a roll of smoke.


    Despite their smiles, I could sense the tension, still out there, beyond the light of the candle. Eric was the most vocal about it, but we were all feeling it. Almost everyone in the school was feeling it, and it followed them no matter where they went.


    They¡¯d always be looking over their shoulders.


    ¡°Hey.¡± The crack in my voice surprised me. I cleared my throat before I continued. ¡°Guys, do you know if any kids are hiding their powers?¡±


    ¡°A few of them,¡± Wes said. He rolled the flame in a circle.


    I found it hard to deal with how carelessly he announced it.


    Demonstrating the brilliant insight I¡¯d long ago come to expect from myself, I said, ¡°Does Wuller know?¡±


    Eric scoffed. ¡°Obviously not.¡±


    ¡°Who are they?¡±


    ¡°I heard about a couple of clairvoyants.¡±


    ¡°Fields is a clairauditory,¡± Wes said. ¡°He said he didn¡¯t want to get put away as a schizophrenic.¡±


    Scott explained, ¡°The ones that can hide it sometimes do. Why give up one of their free periods for something that¡¯s probably only going to happen once?¡±


    ¡°How many boys are we talking about?¡± I asked.


    ¡°A couple dozen?¡± Scott said.


    A couple dozen that they knew about. That meant there were at least one-hundred and thirty boys already affected.


    I shook my head. ¡°That¡¯s not the kind of thing I meant. I¡¯m talking about a boy who¡¯s hiding a normal power¡ªa¡­a constant power. This wouldn¡¯t be a one-off.¡±


    Wes sat up. When his attention left it, the candle flame shrank back to normal. ¡°I doubt it. To hide your powers, you¡¯d have to be either really lucky or have a lot of control. New psychics don¡¯t have that kind of control.¡±


    And what if he¡¯s been struggling with his powers all his life? I thought.


    Wes used both hands to warp the flame. It spread between his palms like taffy.


    ¡°Make it look like a duck!¡± Scott said.


    ¡°That might take some work.¡± Wes flexed his fingers, trying to shape the flame.


    I tried to sound respectable: ¡°As the responsible adult, I¡¯m morally compelled to tell you that you¡¯re not supposed to play with fire.¡±


    ¡°Au contraire!¡± Wes made the flame swirl up like a corkscrew. ¡°I need all the practice I can get.¡± He gave Eric a look. ¡°I don¡¯t want to accidentally light my roommate on fire or anything.¡±


    Eric returned the look with one of his own.


    ¡°Is that still your flame?¡± Dustin asked.


    ¡°It¡¯s the candle¡¯s.¡± Wes turned to me. When he spoke, he sounded almost as pompous as Wuller. ¡°Emerra, I¡¯m pleased to tell you, I can control flames other than my own.¡±


    I smiled at him. ¡°Good for you, Wes.¡±

 Chapter 42 - Nightmares

    I was laying on the table. Again. There were the whispers of the nurses, telling me to be calm. I couldn¡¯t hear them over my whimpers.


    What did they know? Had they ever been through it?


    Had they ever felt the slow-mounting terror that built from the floor up to the sky with you trapped inside¡ªpressed into a slip of yourself¡ªa nothing that can¡¯t move, can only lay there and endure the pressure. It was more maddening than anything else.


    I¡¯d thought that before, hadn¡¯t I?


    Was it the last time I was here? I couldn¡¯t remember. The thought felt familiar, but the memory was gone.


    That was happening more and more frequently. It was like I was losing my mind.


    More maddening than anything else¡­


    I wondered if, afterward, I still believed that.


    A swirl of nausea rolled through my stomach. My fear leapt to a new peak. I clenched my whole body. Not that it would help.


    The convulsions started.


    Water hit my face. That was the first real thing in my world¡ªthe cold slap of water. Then my eyes were open.


    I was sitting up on the couch. The lights were on. My blankets were on the floor below me. Rivulets of water were running down my face and neck. Conrad was kneeling over me, looking terrified. My brain clutched at what I¡¯m sure it thought was the most important question:


    What scares a wolfman?


    My heart beat like a jack-hammer.


    Before I could say anything, the fear left his eyes and his ears cautiously rose to a neutral position.


    ¡°Mera?¡± he said.


    ¡°Yeah.¡±


    I heard him exhale. He turned and put the disposable cup he was holding on the coffee table behind him. Someone had shoved the table out of the way.


    ¡°Are you normally a deep sleeper?¡± he asked. ¡°Or is that a part of¡­whatever you¡¯ve got going on?¡±


    I rolled my hands into fists and put them to my forehead but jerked them away as soon as they touched it. My forehead was wet.


    ¡°You threw water on me to wake me up?¡±


    I don¡¯t know why I thought that was so funny, but a hysterical mirth bubbled through my chest.


    ¡°Sorry,¡± he said. ¡°I didn¡¯t know what else to do.¡±


    I theatrically rung out the front part of my collar. ¡°Do you have another shirt I can borrow?¡±


    ¡°Yeah.¡±


    ¡°Then I guess I can forgive you. Can I pat your head again?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re asking this time?¡±


    I reached out, dug my fingers into his fur, and ruffled his ears. ¡°There. Double forgiven.¡±


    The last of the tiny bubbles of mirth burst, leaving me feeling flat and sad. I pushed myself into the corner and put my feet up on the couch. Conrad sat on the floor where he was.


    ¡°Are you sure you¡¯re okay?¡± he asked.


    ¡°I¡­uh¡ªyeah? I mean¡±¡ªI forced myself to nod confidently¡ª¡°Yes, I¡¯m okay.¡± I hesitated. ¡°Darius isn¡¯t here, is he?¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s going through the dorms, trying to figure out where he heard the noises coming from.¡±


    That¡¯s right. There was a boy out there having nightmares like mine. I wrapped my arms around myself.


    ¡°Do you want me to call him?¡± Conrad asked.


    ¡°No. I¡¯d rather he didn¡¯t see me like this.¡±


    Every once in a while, Conrad would look up at me, his pale-yellow eyes all soft and thoughtful, and my heart would melt a little¡ªbut I was careful to never mention that to him. After nearly cheating my way into being allowed to ruffle his ears, I didn¡¯t think I could get away with telling him that he had puppy-dog eyes.


    I might have to. At least then he¡¯ll get embarrassed and look away.


    As it was, he simply watched me, and I had to tell him things because, if I didn¡¯t, he¡¯d keep looking at me until my heart turned to mush and I started making baby noises at him.


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    That would probably get me eaten.


    ¡°I¡¯m worried he might ask me to leave,¡± I admitted.


    Conrad opened his mouth, but I was already glaring at him, daring him to say it was a good idea or something. His teeth clicked back together. He used one of his claws to pick at the rug.


    ¡°You don¡¯t want to?¡± he grumbled.


    ¡°Kind of.¡± A wash of sadness piled into my chest. ¡°The nightmares, they¡¯re¡­pretty bad. When I first wake up, all I want to do is get out of here¡ª¡±


    ¡°Then why don¡¯t you?¡±


    ¡°Because that¡¯s only at night. The rest of the time it¡¯s me wandering around this big ol¡¯ castle of a school or playing around with the musketeers. I missed my whole senior year¡ªdid you know that?¡±


    He shook his head.


    ¡°It¡¯s probably stupid of me, but it feels nice to be back in a school. It¡¯s like I¡¯m getting a taste of something I missed.¡±


    ¡°At an all-boys school¡­in England.¡±


    ¡°Hey!¡± I pointed at him. ¡°Beggars can¡¯t be choosers. Besides, this way I don¡¯t have to worry about homework or tests.¡±


    He hummed. ¡°And yet you¡¯re still having panic attacks.¡±


    My eyes widened and my mouth dropped open, but out of my open mouth poured a long laugh.


    ¡°I can¡¯t believe you said that!¡± I cried.


    ¡°You laughed,¡± he pointed out.


    ¡°There¡¯s a line, Conrad. It¡¯s behind you somewhere.¡±


    The edge of his lips lifted in a slight smile. He hoisted himself into a crouching position and leaned closer to me.


    ¡°You still laughed.¡±


    I let the matter drop. I wasn¡¯t really upset¡ªhe could probably smell that¡ªand laughing had made me feel better.


    Conrad sat on the couch beside me. Part of his leg was covering my toes. I didn¡¯t move them. The dude was warm.


    ¡°It looked like you were having a seizure,¡± he said.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think it was a real one. I think it was only a dream.¡±


    ¡°The insane asylum again?¡±


    ¡°Norris said they thought it helped.¡± I shivered.


    Conrad lifted a blanket from the floor and passed it to me.


    I bundled up as I said, ¡°Do you think the psychic has the same dreams that I do?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡±


    I frowned and pulled the blanket around me tighter.


    ¡°You¡¯re really upset about that, aren¡¯t you?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve got you,¡± I said, looking into his eyes. ¡°Who does he have?¡±


    For a second or two, we stayed like that. Looking at each other. Black and yellow eyes¡ªwhat a pair we made. Then Conrad turned away.


    He said, ¡°His roommate, hopefully.¡±


    ¡°Not if he¡¯s hiding it.¡±


    Conrad sighed and rubbed his brow with his open hand.


    An idea popped into my head. My heart leapt at it, and I grabbed onto Conrad¡¯s sleeve. ¡°Conrad, could you smell him?¡±


    ¡°You know I can¡¯t smell psychic powers.¡±


    ¡°No, I mean smell him. His emotions. He¡¯s got to be upset and scared, and¡­¡±


    Conrad was shaking his head.


    I let go and leaned back into the corner. ¡°Not at all?¡±


    ¡°Emotions are hard. If I¡¯m trying to pick out an individual, I have to be standing close to them.¡±


    ¡°And?¡±


    ¡°Mera, everyone smells upset and scared when I¡¯m standing that close to them.¡±


    ¡°Everyone?¡±


    ¡°Everyone except Wuller and Dustin.¡±


    Every thought in my head vanished. My shoulders went slack and my forehead furrowed with total confusion.


    I could understand why Wuller wasn¡¯t afraid of him. I had watched the headmaster talk to Conrad during the meals when Darius was gone. Conrad had groaned about it afterward. The phrase ¡°interrogation session¡± made an appearance, and the wolfman kept insisting that he wasn¡¯t that interesting. I knew that curiosity was a powerful motivator and that you only had to talk to Conrad for a while before you realized how nice he was.


    But¡­


    ¡°Dustin Walman?¡± I said.


    ¡°Your friend,¡± Conrad said. ¡°Dark hair, Scottish accent. I don¡¯t know his last name.¡±


    ¡°Why isn¡¯t Dustin afraid of you?¡±


    ¡°I assumed it was because you told him about me.¡±


    ¡°I did! I told all of them about you! I thought it would take a little more than that. Are the others still scared?¡±


    The fur between Conrad¡¯s eyes crinkled. He nodded.


    ¡°Was Dustin ever scared of you?¡± I asked.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know, but I remember being surprised when he came up to ask me why you weren¡¯t at breakfast.¡±


    ¡°Because he wasn¡¯t afraid.¡±


    Another nod.


    ¡°Conrad, out in the yard, when the other boys were¡­standing up to you¡­was Dustin afraid of you then?¡±


    Conrad closed his eyes and turned his muzzle away from me. It looked like he was trying to recall the scene, so I stayed as quiet as I could.


    ¡°The others were terrified,¡± Conrad muttered. ¡°You were scared and frustrated.¡±


    ¡°And Dustin?¡±


    Conrad opened his eyes and looked at me. ¡°I don¡¯t think so. He might have been nervous, but it wasn¡¯t as powerful as your scent.¡±


    I have a dim memory from my childhood. I couldn¡¯t tell you where I was, or how old I was, but I remember this weird toy. It was a series of thin, wooden blocks held together in a column by ribbons. A woman¡ªI think it was a woman¡ªwould hold it up, move her wrist, and down would tumble a wooden block, except it never fell off. It was caught at the end by the ribbons holding them together. She called it a Jacob¡¯s ladder. I had been mesmerized by it and frustrated, almost to tears, because I couldn¡¯t make it work myself.


    Knowing me, I had been gripping the top block too tightly¡ªprobably with both hands¡ªand ignoring all the well-meaning instructions she tried to give me.


    The key was to hold it loosely. Let everything fall into place.


    At that moment, I felt the same mesmerizing satisfaction I had as a child. I could almost hear the clicks as my thoughts fell into place, one after another.


    Dustin was a second-year student, known for his spot-on guesses and oddly perceptive comments. There were rooms in the building that he didn¡¯t like. What if he was unusually calm because he¡¯d trained himself to be? Wes had said he had bad dreams, and Wes Osborn, the first and most powerful psychic, was his roommate. The night that Wes¡¯s powers woke up, Dustin had reached through the fire and pulled him out. It¡¯s possible Wes had forgotten to mention that Dustin had been burned¡­but what if Wes hadn¡¯t mentioned it because it had never been an issue? Judging from the last school Dustin went to, his parents could afford to send him to any school they wanted to¡ªLatin and Greek didn¡¯t sound cheap¡ªso why would they choose to send him to a school like Setlan on Lee?


    And anyone who could read minds would know that Conrad wasn¡¯t a threat.


    My phone rang, startling me. I gasped and put a hand to my face.


    Conrad reached out to grab my phone off the coffee table.


    ¡°It¡¯s Darius,¡± he said.


    He passed it to me. I answered the call.


    ¡°Hello?¡±


    ¡°Emerra! Thank god.¡±


    I frowned and my eyebrows pulled together when I heard the relief in his voice. ¡°Darius, is everything okay?¡±


    The silence that followed was not a comforting one.


    ¡°First tell me if you¡¯re all right,¡± he said.


    ¡°I-I¡¯m fine.¡±


    ¡°You couldn¡¯t sleep?¡±


    ¡°No, I had another nightmare. Conrad woke me up. We¡¯ve been talking about the psychic. Darius¡ª¡±


    ¡°What was your nightmare about?¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°What was your nightmare about?¡±


    ¡°Induced seizures. I think.¡±


    There was another painful silence.


    ¡°You¡¯re probably going to want to come down here,¡± he said.


    ¡°Where are you?¡±


    ¡°Head to the front entrance. That¡¯s where Wuller¡¯s meeting the ambulance.¡±


    I stood up. ¡°What happened?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s Scott Shipp. He¡¯s had a seizure.¡±

 Chapter 43 - Not the Power I Would Have Chosen

    Scott was strapped into a gurney. I held his hand while, a few yards away, Norris explained the situation to the paramedics and gave them a copy of Scott¡¯s file. The ambulance had come up the long drive with their lights on but no siren. The lights were still going. They strobed in and out, giving the shadows a pulse.


    I sniffed and wiped my nose.


    ¡°I told you,¡± Scott murmured. ¡°It doesn¡¯t hurt that bad.¡±


    I smiled. It was weak, but it was a smile. ¡°That¡¯s because you¡¯re so high right now, they had to strap you to the stretcher so you wouldn¡¯t float away.¡±


    ¡°Yeah. Creepy Nurse Norris really came through with the good stuff. Levitation.¡± He tried to shake his head. It barely moved. ¡°Not the power I would have chosen.¡±


    ¡°Try not to move your head,¡± Darius reminded him. ¡°The doctors are going to want to check it out. You hit it pretty hard when you came back down.¡±


    ¡°That, I remember,¡± Scott grumbled. ¡°What a way to wake up.¡±


    I laughed and wiped my eyes.


    The paramedics came over. I had to let go and step back.


    ¡°Tell Wes to look after Sir George for me!¡± Scott yelled as they wheeled him into the ambulance. ¡°He gets lonely!¡±


    I watched the ambulance drive away, then stepped back again, looking for a wall to lean against. I didn¡¯t want to keep holding myself up. Instead of a wall, I found Conrad. Not much of a difference, really. He must have come out once the paramedics were gone. To keep me from tripping over his feet, he put a hand on my shoulder and guided me to the wall I¡¯d been looking for.


    Darius came over. Norris went back into the building while Wuller joined us by the wall.


    ¡°I need to thank you, Vasil,¡± Wuller said. ¡°I understand you were the first on the scene?¡±


    ¡°I happened to be near the hall. That¡¯s all.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve had medical training?¡±


    ¡°Some. May I ask about Mr. Shipp¡¯s injuries?¡±


    Wuller grimaced. ¡°I¡¯m afraid I¡¯m not at liberty to say. Privacy and all that.¡±


    ¡°Can you tell me if it¡¯s as bad as I thought?¡±


    The paramedics had covered Scott with a blanket, but there had been bruises and cuts all along his bare arm. I closed my eyes to banish the memory.


    ¡°We¡¯ll have to wait for the x-rays,¡± Wuller said. ¡°With luck, the worst will be his shoulder.¡±


    ¡°The boys are going to want to see him.¡± My voice was weak and husky.


    The headmaster¡¯s eyebrows pulled together. ¡°Pardon?¡±


    ¡°The other musketeers.¡±


    ¡°She means Osborn, Reed, and Walman,¡± Darius explained. ¡°They¡¯re close friends with Mr. Shipp.¡±


    ¡°Errr, yes,¡± Wuller said. ¡°That may take some special arrangements. Reed, you said? Yes. I¡¯ll see what I can do.¡±


    ¡°Before that, Mr. Wuller, there are some questions I need to ask.¡±


    The headmaster rubbed his eyes. He slumped, and there wasn¡¯t a square millimeter of his body that wasn¡¯t displaying weariness and resignation. ¡°What kind of questions?¡±


    ¡°How many times have these psychic powers resulted in a student being injured?¡±


    Conrad took me by the arm and led me over to the open door. ¡°Come on,¡± he said softly.


    ¡°They were talking,¡± I mumbled.


    I didn¡¯t have a great reason for saying that. Maybe I thought I needed to stay out there or something. Maybe it was a reflex.


    ¡°Darius will tell us anything important,¡± Conrad said. ¡°You look like you¡¯re about to collapse.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m just tired.¡±


    ¡°Yeah. Sure.¡±


    We were halfway down the hall when Conrad stopped and cocked his head. A second after he did, I heard the footsteps. Wes and Eric were charging down the hall. They had to grab on to the wall to make the turn. Wes was still in his pajamas. Eric had thrown on pants and an undershirt. The undershirt was inside out.


    ¡°Where¡¯s Scott?¡± Wes demanded.


    I looked up at Conrad.


    ¡°Dustin¡¯s coming,¡± he warned me.


    ¡°He¡¯s right behind us,¡± Wes said. ¡°What¡¯s going on? Is Scott hurt?¡±


    ¡°Someone said there was an ambulance,¡± Eric said.


    Dustin came around the corner. His posture, how he moved, his face¡ªeverything confirmed what I¡¯d guessed.


    Eric and Wes were scared. Dustin was terrified. Eric and Wes were concerned. He was heartsick. The only reason Dustin could keep it together was because the mask he¡¯d worn for so long had fossilized.


    I tore my eyes away from him and focused on Wes and Eric instead, trying hard to keep my feelings in check.


    I opened my mouth, but nothing came out.


    ¡°Emerra?¡± Wes sounded desperate.


    ¡°Um¡­I¡­¡±


    The sorrow that had been spreading through me choked off my voice. Since I one hundred percent felt like a yon fair maiden, I did what any respectable maiden in distress would do: I turned to a knight for help.


    Conrad saw the pleading look I gave him and instantly took charge.


    ¡°Your friend is hurt,¡± he said to the boys, ¡°but he¡¯ll be okay. We can tell you about it, but first, Emerra needs to sit down. We¡¯ll go to one of the front meeting rooms.¡±


    ¡°Most of them will be locked,¡± Eric said.


    ¡°Then I¡¯ll open it,¡± Conrad growled.


    That line was sufficiently impressive, the boys followed us without further comment. I didn¡¯t really think that Conrad would rip the handle out of a door just to find me a place to sit down, but I wasn¡¯t completely sure either. Fortunately, he didn¡¯t have to; the door to the armory was open.


    It wasn¡¯t really an armory. It was a room where they displayed the souvenirs left over from the original house, but when I¡¯m desperate for a way to distinguish one room from another and the only major difference between it and its four nearest neighbors are the swords up on one wall, that¡¯s all it needs to qualify as an armory in my book.


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    Conrad turned on the lights as we went in. The boys weren¡¯t supposed to be out of their rooms, but I knew they wouldn¡¯t care if Wuller himself caught them. I sat down on a couch while Conrad went over to the window and looked out on the grounds. Wes and Eric sat on the couch across from me. Dustin milled around behind them, as if he wasn¡¯t sure he had a right to join us.


    Stop it, Emerra. Worry about Dustin later.


    ¡°What happened?¡± Wes asked.


    I squeezed two fingers while I spoke. ¡°Scott started levitating in his sleep. While he was levitating, he had a seizure.¡±


    Dustin froze and stared at me. I tried to ignore him.


    ¡°It was bad,¡± I said. ¡°It was really bad. He was on the bottom bunk, and he and his roommate weren¡¯t expecting anything like that. Scott hurt himself while he was thrashing. There¡¯s lots of bruising. He broke his bedside lamp and cut his arm¡ª¡±


    ¡°Why an ambulance?¡± Eric demanded.


    ¡°He¡¯s dislocated his shoulder, and he might have some minor fractures along his vertebra¡ª¡±


    ¡°He broke his back?¡± Wes shouted.


    ¡°Not like that. These would be small fractures.¡±


    ¡°What kind of a seizure breaks your back?¡± Eric said.


    I remembered Darius¡¯s soft voice, gently explaining it to me. I wished he was here. We could all use some calm-me-down hypnotism.


    ¡°His convulsions were stronger than normal,¡± I said, ¡°and fractures from¡­that kind of seizure¡­weren¡¯t uncommon¡ª¡±


    ¡°Weren¡¯t? What do you mean, weren¡¯t?¡±


    ¡°¡ªaren¡¯t uncommon. They aren¡¯t uncommon. But these should be hairline fractures. Lots of people that had them never complained about any pain. Scott¡¯s going to be fine. They¡¯re going to take care of his shoulder and, since this was his first seizure, they¡¯re going to do some tests to make sure everything¡¯s okay.¡±


    Wes and Eric sat back. Wes scratched his head with both hands. Eric frowned and gazed at the rug. They were fortifying themselves. My information was nothing but another report, delivered to a couple of generals in the middle of an ongoing battle. They heard it. They accepted it. Now they would have to decide what to do about it.


    Wes looked at me. ¡°He¡¯s going to be okay?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡± I managed another weak smile. ¡°He wants you to look after Sir George until he gets back.¡±


    Wes nodded¡ªevery bit, the grave soldier. ¡°Of course. George gets lonely.¡±


    ¡°What kind of seizure was it?¡± Dustin asked.


    I covered my mouth and kept my eyes on the line where Wes¡¯s bare foot met the rug.


    ¡°Is there a reason you don¡¯t want to tell us?¡± Dustin asked.


    I closed my eyes.


    There was a long silence.


    Dustin was the one who broke it.


    ¡°How did you know it was me? No¡ªdon¡¯t answer that. Tell me what kind of a seizure it was.¡±


    I looked up. Wes and Eric were watching me and Dustin, trying to understand what was happening.


    ¡°What¡¯s Metrazol therapy?¡± Dustin demanded.


    ¡°It¡¯s an old therapy for psychiatric patients,¡± Conrad said. ¡°They injected them with a drug that induced seizures.¡±


    Dustin¡¯s face screwed up with grief. He pulled his arms to his chest. When he spoke, his voice shook.


    ¡°So this is my fault.¡±


    I stood up. ¡°This isn¡¯t your fault, Dustin.¡±


    Dustin nodded to Conrad. ¡°He thinks it is.¡±


    ¡°Conrad!¡±


    ¡°The boy could have come forward at any time, Emerra,¡± Conrad said.


    ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡± Eric stood up and turned to Dustin. ¡°How is this your fault?¡±


    Dustin took a step back, but then he braced himself. It looked as if he was teetering on the edge of a cliff.


    You don¡¯t have to tell him, I thought.


    Dustin heard me. When he looked at me, I saw a tiny smirk at the edge of his lips. It was there for less than a second, but it held a universe of despair.


    He looked back at Eric. ¡°I¡¯m the reason all the powers have been manifesting.¡±


    Wes slowly rose to his feet. ¡°You want to explain that a little better, Dustin?¡±


    ¡°Ever since I was little, I¡¯ve had these awful powers. I try to control them. I try to be normal. It never works!¡±


    His voice started rising, becoming more frantic.


    ¡°My parents sent me here. They won¡¯t even admit anything is wrong with me¡ªlike maybe I won¡¯t know if they don¡¯t say it¡ªlike I can¡¯t read their minds, or-or feel how desperate they are!¡±


    His energy collapsed. He looked down and droned, ¡°They thought Wuller might be able to help, but there¡¯s something wrong with the building. I¡¯ve been having nightmares.¡±


    He fell silent.


    ¡°I tried to control it,¡± he muttered.


    Eric dodged around the edge of the couch and grabbed Dustin by the collar of his shirt with both hands. He moved so fast, I didn¡¯t have time to react. His face was tight with rage.


    He yelled, ¡°Are you telling us that this¡ªall of this¡ªis your fault?¡±


    Dustin swallowed. ¡°Yes.¡±


    I stumbled forward. Conrad came away from the window. Wes moved, but it was like he was stuck in slow motion. He drifted toward his friends.


    Without letting go of the shirt, Eric slammed his fists into Dustin¡¯s chest. ¡°Every single psychic? Every fire? Every piece of broken glass¡ªthose stupid classes? Wes? Ivers? All of them?


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°Eric, stop!¡± I said. ¡°You don¡¯t understand.¡±


    I might as well have been yelling at one of the brick walls.


    Eric¡¯s fists tightened around Dustin¡¯s shirt. ¡°Scott?¡±


    I could see tears gathering in Dustin¡¯s eyes, but he never looked away, and he never blinked.


    ¡°The wolfman¡¯s right,¡± Eric said.


    I yelled for him to stop, but he shoved Dustin, hard. Dustin staggered back several steps, then righted himself.


    ¡°Leave,¡± Eric demanded.


    ¡°Eric!¡± I said, ¡°Listen to me!¡±


    ¡°How many more people were you going to hurt before you said something, Dustin?¡±


    ¡°I never meant to hurt anyone!¡± Dustin screamed.


    The lights flickered, and the walls seemed to flex toward us.


    ¡°You didn¡¯t do anything to stop it!¡± Eric yelled. ¡°You might as well have used your powers to pull his arm out of its socket yourself. Or is that what happened?¡±


    ¡°Wes!¡± I cried. ¡°Help me!¡±


    It was like I had invoked a spell. Dustin and Eric both fell silent and turned to Wes.


    He stood there, motionless, for what felt like a minute. It was probably only a second.


    Dustin held up both hands. ¡°I get it. You don¡¯t have to say anything. I¡¯m gone.¡±


    He turned toward the door.


    ¡°Dustin¡ª¡± I started.


    His raised voice was ragged with emotion. ¡°Shut up, Emerra! They hate me, all right! Nice while it lasted. You and the Torr are going to take me away somewhere? Lock me up? Fine! Just give me some fucking space. I need to calm down.¡±


    The door slammed open without being touched. The souvenirs on the wall rattled from the force. He passed through, and it slammed closed.


    I turned to Eric and Wes. I¡¯m pretty sure I was channeling all the tears that Dustin held back, because there was no way I could cry that many myself. They rolled down my face like someone left the faucet on.


    ¡°I ought to slam your idiot heads together,¡± I said. ¡°He was your friend!¡±


    ¡°He lied to us!¡± Eric yelled.


    ¡°He hid something from you! He hid it because all he wanted was a stupid normal life and some stupid normal friends!¡±


    ¡°He said it was his fault,¡± Wes said.


    ¡°You want someone to blame? You blame Allard and his prison camp of an insane asylum! Or you blame the hundreds of people in Dustin¡¯s life that hurt him bad enough he thinks he has to hide who he is to be accepted!¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t know what we¡¯ve been through,¡± Eric said.


    I marched up and stood on my toes to better snarl in his face. ¡°And you don¡¯t know what he¡¯s been through! You never asked! Did you ever wonder what it¡¯d be like to know that everyone is afraid of you? To read their minds, and know¡ªnot just wonder, but know¡ªthat they think you¡¯re a freak? You didn¡¯t try to understand him. You were too busy being angry and afraid.¡±


    I stepped back to include Wes in my rant.


    ¡°Congratulations, guys! You proved every fear in his life correct! He only has friends as long as they don¡¯t know. No one will ever be there for him. Those powers he¡¯s been struggling to control this whole time¡ªthey hurt one of his best friends, and it¡¯s his fault because he told himself he could control it. He made a mistake. This is the worst day of his life, and he has to face it alone!¡±


    ¡°So you¡¯re a telepath now?¡± Eric sneered.


    ¡°All you had to do was look at him!¡± I yelled.


    I curled my hands into claws and held them up by my face, trying to shape some of my writhing fury.


    It was useless.


    ¡°Ugh!¡± I threw my hands back down to my sides and stormed out of the room.


    I was so angry, I was at the end of the hall before I realized Conrad was behind me.


    ¡°I¡¯m mad at you,¡± I said.


    ¡°Yeah, I can smell that.¡±


    ¡°Are you sorry?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry he picked that one thought from my head. I agree with you, Emerra. There¡¯s a difference between an offense and a mistake. He could have stopped it by coming forward¡ªthat¡¯s his fault¡ªbut it was still a mistake.¡±


    ¡°You think he should feel guilty!¡±


    ¡°He should feel guilty. There¡¯s nothing wrong with feeling guilty when you¡¯ve made a mistake. That¡¯s why you say you¡¯re sorry. That¡¯s what teaches you to be more careful.¡±


    I stopped and turned to Conrad.


    The wolfman said, ¡°I don¡¯t think he should feel like a bad person.¡±


    ¡°He does,¡± I said.


    ¡°I know.¡±


    Through a pin-sized throat, I managed to choke out, ¡°I don¡¯t want him to feel bad.¡±


    Conrad pulled me into a one-armed hug. I dropped my head on his chest.


    ¡°Yeah, I get that,¡± he said.


    ¡°What do I do?¡±


    ¡°Well, the good news is that he will definitely know you¡¯re sincere.¡±


    I laughed. It unlocked some of the anger and sadness that had gotten jammed in my body.


    Conrad went on, ¡°Dustin said he needed to calm down. Let¡¯s give him some space. We still have to talk to Darius.¡±


    ¡°The Torr aren¡¯t going to lock him up, are they?¡±


    ¡°Darius would never allow that.¡±


    ¡°¡®Cause Darius is totally in charge.¡±


    ¡°Darius is the right hand of Jack Noctis, who is in charge. But even if he wasn¡¯t, he still wouldn¡¯t allow it. But he¡¯ll have to start making arrangements.¡±


    We headed back to our rooms to wait for Darius.

 Chapter 44 - At the Hospital

    None of my musketeers were at brunch.


    I hoped that Eric and Wes had made up with Dustin and the three of them had gone somewhere together, but I wasn¡¯t sure if they were allowed to leave the school before ten. To keep Wuller from noticing they were gone, I hid myself in the group with Evans.


    When Darius finished his coffee (which was all he ever had for breakfast), I left my table and ambushed him by the door.


    ¡°Do you still have that car?¡±


    He sighed. ¡°No, but I could probably borrow one.¡±


    ¡°Can you take me to visit Scott?¡±


    He glanced at the empty table where the boys and I usually ate, then checked his watch. ¡°I don¡¯t know how much time I can give you, but I have some calls to make, and I can make them from the hospital as easily as I could make them here.¡±


    ¡°You, sir, are a knight in shining armor.¡±


    ¡°Wrong.¡± He turned and started walking. ¡°I¡¯m something the knights would have been hunting.¡±


    I thought about that as I followed him. ¡°Since you¡¯re still around, does that mean you¡¯re better than a knight in shining armor?¡±


    He smiled his subtle, closed-lip smile and said nothing.


    It was a while before we left. First, we had to talk to Wuller, then we had to track down a car we could borrow, but once we were out of the gate, we only stopped long enough to buy some flowers, before driving to the hospital.


    When we got to Scott¡¯s room, we found him conscious, lying in his inclined bed, talking to Wes and Eric.


    Scott laughed when he saw the flowers. ¡°Oh, man, nothing beats being a fair maiden!¡±


    I crossed over to the bed so he could smell them.


    Darius came into the room. While tucking his sunglasses into his suit-coat pocket, he said, ¡°Mr. Reed. Mr. Osborn. Imagine meeting you here. What was it? A three hour walk?¡±


    They had both bowed their heads and looked away when Darius and I came into the room, and they didn¡¯t look up when Eric answered.


    ¡°Two and a half,¡± he grumbled.


    ¡°So you must have gotten here at eight in the morning?¡± Darius said.


    ¡°Seven.¡±


    I motioned to Scott¡¯s slung-up arm. ¡°How¡¯s the shoulder?¡±


    ¡°Surgery¡¯s this afternoon,¡± he recited. ¡°The ligament was torn or something. Mum¡¯s on her way. They let me put off calling her until she was awake, but now she¡¯s mad at me for not calling her immediately!¡±


    He rolled his eyes. It was clear there was nothing in the world more exasperating than a Mum.


    He went on, ¡°They said I could be back to school by Tuesday or Wednesday. I said there¡¯s not much point in surgery if I only get two days off.¡±


    I left the flowers with him while I went over to the sink to put water in the vase we¡¯d bought.


    ¡°Otherwise, you¡¯re fine?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Yep! Bad shoulder, a bump on the head, some cuts and bruises.¡± He shrugged with his free shoulder.


    ¡°I¡¯m glad to hear your prognosis is so good, Mr. Shipp,¡± Darius said. ¡°If you¡¯ll excuse me, I have to make some calls.¡±


    When he left, there was a long, uncomfortable silence. I thought Wes and Eric deserved it, so I kept my mouth shut and let them stew in it.


    ¡°Is¡­uh, is he going to tell Wuller?¡± Eric asked.


    ¡°I doubt it.¡± I brought the vase back to the bedside table, took the flowers from Scott, and untied the bouquet. ¡°He¡¯s the one that got permission for you guys to come with us even though you were already gone.¡±


    Scott tried to sit up. All he managed to do was scoot his butt back an inch and raise his head.


    ¡°Did you bring Dustin?¡± he asked.


    Wes grimaced and scratched his head, still without looking up. Eric frowned.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± I said. ¡°I thought he might be with Eric and Wes.¡±


    ¡°He doesn¡¯t like breaking rules,¡± Scott explained. As if I didn¡¯t already know that.


    I kept my voice as even as possible and tried to focus on the flowers I was arranging. ¡°Would you want to see him?¡±


    ¡°What kind of question is that?¡± Scott sounded indignant.


    I glanced at Wes and Eric and managed to catch both sets of eyes before their gazes skittered off to the corners like cockroaches.


    ¡°I thought Wes and Eric might have told you,¡± I said.


    ¡°Told me what?¡±


    So I had the honor of telling him that Dustin was a psychic¡ªthe only real psychic¡ªabout how powerful he was, and about how the building had been affecting him.


    Scott¡¯s response:


    ¡°Holy shit. Is Dustin okay?¡±


    That¡¯s it, ladies and gentlemen! The competition is over. Everyone else can go home, there will be no consolation prize. Scott Shipp is, officially, the best friend.


    Judging by the sour expressions on their faces, Wes and Eric knew it too.


    Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.


    ¡°I think Dustin¡¯s upset because of what happened to you,¡± I said. ¡°He knows it¡¯s his fault.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s stupid. It was an accident.¡±


    My heart swelled. I couldn¡¯t have paid him for such a perfect, offhand delivery of that line. The light-hearted voice! The unrehearsed simplicity of it! The unknowing yet completely soul-crushing destruction of his two friends!


    ¡°Is that why he didn¡¯t come?¡± Scott scowled and felt around the bed. ¡°Where¡¯s my phone? I¡¯m going to call him¡ªtell him he¡¯s a jerk for not visiting. With Doritos. And more flowers.¡±


    ¡°Your phone is right there, druggie.¡± Eric nodded to the table on his left side. ¡°But Dustin doesn¡¯t have a phone. Remember?¡±


    ¡°He doesn¡¯t have a phone?¡± I said.


    ¡°Never has.¡± Wes¡¯s voice was soft and thoughtful. ¡°He said they kept breaking on him.¡± Wes shifted in his seat. ¡°His watch is a wind-up.¡±


    No phone. A wind-up watch. And lights bursting over his head when he gets upset.


    Scott leaned back. ¡°Then you tell him he¡¯s a stinker. And he owes me Doritos.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re not supposed to eat if you¡¯re going into surgery,¡± I reminded him.


    ¡°After my surgery,¡± he amended without missing a beat.


    Eric''s already hunched shoulders slouched even further, curling over his chest. I thought I saw a hint of red creep up Wes¡¯s face.


    ¡°I can tell him,¡± I offered. I finished setting up the flowers and pushed them to the center of the small bedside table. ¡°What do you think?¡±


    ¡°Beautiful,¡± Scott announced.


    I pulled up a nearby chair and sat down. ¡°Now, tell me how you¡¯re doing.¡±


    Scott tried to tell me everything that had happened since he was put in the ambulance. I don¡¯t know what the doctors had him on, but his story was even more random than normal, achieving an incomprehensibility formerly unknown to man. It was impossible for anyone to feel bad while listening to his disjointed rambling, so it wasn¡¯t long before Wes and Eric joined our conversation. They would toss in a well-placed, mocking comment or ask him questions to highlight one of his more bizarre statements and, possibly, to see how far Scott would take it if given enough encouragement.


    We were still chatting, a half hour later, when there was a knock on the door. The conversation stopped. We all looked to see who it was.


    The count leaned in. ¡°Emerra, we need to leave in ten minutes. I¡¯ll get the car and meet you at the entrance.¡±


    ¡°Thank you, Darius.¡±


    When Wes and Eric turned back around, I said, ¡°You guys want a ride?¡±


    The two of them looked at each other. I could see them calculating distances and considering another two and a half hour walk.


    ¡°Uh¡­if you don¡¯t mind,¡± Wes said.


    Scott groaned. ¡°Do you have to go?¡±


    ¡°How else am I supposed to tell Dustin he¡¯s a stinker?¡± I teased.


    Scott made a twitchy face that could have been part grimace and part frown. ¡°Emerra, you guys have been looking for the source of the psychic powers, right?¡±


    ¡°Yeah.¡±


    ¡°But you¡¯re not going to take him away from us, are you?¡±


    My heart couldn''t decide if it wanted to fly a little or die a little. Fondness and sorrow¡ªwhat a combination. So much nuance. You almost didn¡¯t notice that it hurt.


    ¡°Scott, whatever happens, will you tell Dustin that you didn¡¯t want him to go? He probably needs to hear it.¡±


    ¡°That sounds like you are going to take him away.¡±


    ¡°That building is really bad for him, and it seems like it¡¯s only going to get worse.¡±


    ¡°But he¡¯s been repressing his powers, right? What if he joins Reisig¡¯s class?¡±


    I shook my head. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. That won¡¯t solve the problem. Besides, once the other boys find out, I¡¯m not sure he¡¯ll feel welcome.¡± I stood up and patted Scott¡¯s leg. ¡°I¡¯ll make sure you get a chance to see him. For now, watch some cartoons for me.¡±


    ¡°I guess.¡±


    ¡°And no food!¡±


    ¡°Ugh. You sound like a nurse.¡±


    ¡°Come on.¡± I motioned to Eric and Wes.


    They told Scott goodbye, promised him Doritos, and followed me into the hall. We walked to the elevator in silence. We rode it down to the ground floor without saying anything and walked to the entrance without exchanging a word. We stood in the pick-up zone, waiting for Darius in¡ªwait for it¡ªyet more silence.


    Then I got impatient.


    ¡°If you¡¯re waiting for me to apologize, I¡¯m not going to,¡± I announced. ¡°I¡¯m not sorry.¡±


    Wes and Eric both snorted out a laugh.


    ¡°Your silent treatment needs work,¡± Wes told me.


    I turned and jammed my index finger into his chest hard enough he made an oof sound.


    ¡°You wish I¡¯d give you the silent treatment. Sorry, bucko. My primary mode of punishment is the lecture.¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s more you haven¡¯t said to us?¡± Eric grumbled.


    ¡°I¡¯ll say it again! Louder.¡±


    ¡°All right!¡± Eric held up his hands. ¡°We know. We¡¯re sorry. We were jerks¡ª¡±


    ¡°You were a jerk,¡± Wes said. ¡°I didn¡¯t say anything. I still don¡¯t think you can blame me unless I said something.¡±


    ¡°Then what were you thinking?¡± Eric asked.


    Wes scratched his head. ¡°Probably something selfish.¡±


    ¡°Did you figure all that out on your walk over?¡± I asked.


    ¡°It was a long walk,¡± Eric said.


    ¡°How¡¯s Dustin?¡± Wes asked.


    I looked down and scuffed the sole of my sneaker across the concrete. ¡°I don¡¯t know. He didn¡¯t show up for brunch.¡±


    Darius pulled up in the car. I took the front seat while Wes and Eric piled in the back.


    Once we were all buckled in, Darius said in his sharp, official voice, ¡°Mr. Reed, Mr. Osborn, do you know the whereabouts of Dustin Walman?¡±


    ¡°Darius,¡± I said, ¡°you can¡¯t ask them like that.¡±


    The count paused. ¡°Why not?¡±


    ¡°Because you sound like an FBI agent.¡±


    ¡°An FBI agent?¡± His eyebrows disappeared under his sunglasses as he furrowed them in an attempt to look hurt. ¡°What an unkind thing to say.¡±


    He put the car in gear and drove off.


    As we were pulling out of the hospital¡¯s parking lot, Darius said in an easy, conversational tone, ¡°When I saw that Mr. Walman wasn¡¯t at the hospital with Reed and Osborn, I called Conrad.¡±


    Darius spoke as if he was addressing me, but I had long ago accepted that he sounded like an agent almost every time he opened his mouth. That relaxed tone must have been for the boys¡¯ benefit.


    He went on, ¡°Conrad couldn¡¯t find him.¡±


    They took the bait.


    ¡°Did Dustin leave the school?¡± Eric asked.


    Vasil glanced in his rearview mirror. ¡°I¡¯m afraid it¡¯s more complicated than that, Mr. Reed.¡±


    ¡°How so?¡±


    I explained, ¡°If Dustin left the school, Conrad should have been able to follow his trail.¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s missing?¡± Wes asked.


    ¡°We think he¡¯s hiding,¡± Darius said.


    ¡°But how could he shut down Conrad¡¯s nose?¡± I asked.


    ¡°I¡¯m not sure,¡± the vampire admitted. ¡°There¡¯s a lot about his powers that we don¡¯t understand. I¡¯ll ask again, even at the risk of sounding like an FBI agent¡ªhave either of you seen Walman since your encounter this morning?¡±


    ¡°You heard about that?¡± Wes said.


    ¡°I heard it.¡±


    When Darius¡¯s voice was that quiet and even, it would be so easy to miss the difference between ¡°hearing it¡± and ¡°hearing about it.¡±


    ¡°Is he in some kind of trouble?¡± Eric asked.


    It gave me real pleasure to hear the note of anger and defiance in his question. At least some part of Eric still thought of Dustin as a friend.


    ¡°No, Mr. Reed, but we need to know where he is. He needs help. And we need to get him away from that building as soon as possible. Have you seen him?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Wes said. ¡°We went back to Eric¡¯s room after the fight. When I went to get dressed, Dustin wasn¡¯t in our room.¡±


    ¡°Did you notice anything different about the room?¡±


    ¡°He left his pajamas on the bed, so he must have changed into his clothes.¡±


    ¡°Weekend clothes, or his uniform?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know, sir.¡±


    ¡°Do either of you know where he might be hiding?¡±


    I glanced over my shoulder when Darius asked the question. Wes and Eric looked at each other for a sliver of a second before Wes answered.


    ¡°No, sir.¡±


    Darius hummed, then said, quietly, ¡°Emerra, when we get back to the school, our first priority is finding him. Are you willing to help?¡±


    ¡°Of course.¡±


    ¡°How much sleep did you get?¡±


    ¡°How much sleep did you get?¡±


    He glanced over long enough to raise an eyebrow. Too bad for him, mine was already raised.


    Checkmate.


    We were almost to the school, when Darius suddenly said my name.


    I turned from the window I¡¯d been staring out of, glassy eyed, and looked at the vampire. He nodded to the sky in front of us.


    Clouds. Like always.


    But they weren¡¯t usually that low.


    Or that brown.


    ¡°Oh, no,¡± I whispered. ¡°No, no, no.¡±


    I sat forward and put my hand on the dash, as if that might get me back to the school faster.


    Darius pulled out his phone and dialed.


    ¡°Brisbane. This is Vasil. I need you to send a team to Setlan on Lee as soon as possible.¡± He paused. ¡°If we don¡¯t have an incident already, we will when the firetrucks arrive.¡±


    He hung up. The car leapt forward as his foot weighed down on the gas.

 Chapter 45 - Sometimes It Flares

    Flames were licking off the roof in several places when we pulled up to the school. There was a large crowd outside the front entrance watching the building burn.


    Darius pulled off the lane and parked on the grass. Wuller and Miller came over as the four of us jumped out of the car.


    ¡°You¡¯ve called the fire department,¡± Vasil said.


    ¡°I had to!¡± Wuller said.


    Miller added, ¡°They¡¯re on their way.¡±


    ¡°Where¡¯s Mr. Bauer?¡± Darius asked.


    ¡°He¡¯s been helping evacuate the building.¡±


    ¡°Is everyone out safe?¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ve asked the boys to check on their bunkmates, but it may take a while to confirm. The students are allowed to leave on Sundays, so we have to call the ones that aren¡¯t here.¡±


    ¡°Most of the students have been accounted for,¡± Wuller said.


    ¡°Emerra,¡± Darius said, ¡°call Conrad. Find out if he¡¯s already hiding.¡±


    I pulled out my phone and swiped over to my speed dials. I held it to one ear while trying to keep the other one focused on the conversation beside me. Wes and Eric came up to my side.


    ¡°Do you know where the fire started?¡± Darius asked.


    Wuller raised both hands and both shoulders. ¡°We can¡¯t figure it out!¡±


    ¡°Why not?¡±


    ¡°Multiple reports came in at the same time,¡± Miller explained. ¡°The fire alarms all triggered at once.¡±


    ¡°All of them?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s like the fire was hiding in the walls.¡±


    Darius turned his head to speak to Wes. ¡°Mr. Osborn, perhaps you should go into that crowd over there and check for your roommate.¡±


    ¡°Yeah.¡± Wes was already moving. ¡°That¡¯s a good idea.¡±


    Eric followed him. They ran toward the group of boys.


    Conrad answered. The noise in the background made it hard to hear.


    ¡°Mera¡ª¡±


    ¡°Conrad, are you already hiding?¡±


    A rattling whisper filled the silence.


    ¡°I take it you know about the fire,¡± he said.


    ¡°Yes!¡±


    ¡°Welcome back. How¡¯s Scott?¡±


    ¡°Conrad, are you in the building?¡±


    ¡°At the moment. If my luck holds out, I have maybe ten more minutes.¡±


    There was a distant crashing sound over the connection.


    ¡°Maybe five,¡± Conrad said. ¡°Tell Darius we got the boys out before it got bad.¡±


    ¡°If all of the boys are out, why are you still in there?¡±


    Darius, Wuller, and Miller were all staring at me. I turned away so I could concentrate on what Conrad was saying.


    ¡°This wasn¡¯t a normal fire, Emerra. I think Dustin caused this. He didn¡¯t come out with the others.¡±


    I could hear Wes screaming Dustin¡¯s name.


    My chest went cold. ¡°You think he¡¯s still in there.¡±


    ¡°Force and focus. There was a lot of force, but no focus. He can¡¯t be far away.¡±


    Wes and Eric came running back to us. They both looked sick with fear.


    ¡°Can you smell anything in that smoke?¡± I asked.


    ¡°I couldn¡¯t smell him before,¡± Conrad said, ¡°so that doesn¡¯t really matter.¡±


    I looked up at Darius, waiting for some kind of instruction.


    He turned to Wuller and Miller. ¡°It seems that Dustin Walman is still unaccounted for.¡±


    ¡°I thought he went with you,¡± Wuller said.


    ¡°We couldn¡¯t find him before we left. Can you get some of the teachers to check around the grounds on the other side of the building? If any of the boys went out another door, they might have gathered there.¡±


    ¡°Yes. Yes, of course,¡± Wuller said.


    He and Miller left.


    ¡°Wuller doesn¡¯t know about Dustin?¡± Eric asked.


    ¡°Mr. Walman wanted to keep his powers a secret. The Torr respects that.¡± Darius turned to Wes. ¡°Mr. Osborn¡ª¡±


    ¡°He didn¡¯t do it on purpose!¡± Wes said.


    Darius paused. ¡°How do you know?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s burning too slow. When you do it on purpose it goes fast and high. It burns slow when you¡¯re trying to stop it.¡±


    ¡°But you think it¡¯s him?¡±


    Wes hesitated, then nodded.


    ¡°It¡¯s not anger,¡± Wes had said. ¡°It smolders. It¡¯s like a low ache that you carry around with you. Sometimes it flares.¡±


    It was too easy to picture Dustin hiding somewhere, trying to control everything, trying to hold back all that pain. And when he failed, he hadn¡¯t bothered to come out.


    My mouth went suddenly dry.


    ¡°What floor are you on, Conrad?¡± I asked.


    I heard a loud crack over my phone¡ªprobably a door being forcibly opened. ¡°Second floor.¡±


    Darius took off his suit jacket and sunglasses. He squinted, even in the hazy light, and pulled off his tie. ¡°Tell Conrad I¡¯ll take the third floor. Firetrucks and a Torr team are on their way.¡±


    Before I could say anything, Conrad said, ¡°Understood.¡±


    Right. Conrad¡¯s ears weren¡¯t affected by the smoke.


    I hung up and tucked my phone in my pocket. ¡°So I get the first floor?¡±


    I caught a glimpse of Darius¡¯s frown as he rolled up his sleeves.


    ¡°You stay outside,¡± he said at last.


    Wes, Eric, and I ran after him as he started toward the side of the building. He was trying to move only as fast as a human, but it was hard to keep up.


    ¡°I¡¯ll take the first floor, Darius!¡± I shouted.


    ¡°You only heal as fast as a human.¡±


    ¡°The fire is low right now!¡±


    ¡°How long do you think that will last?¡±


    ¡°My point exactly! And no matter what, I¡¯ll be able to see him.¡±


    The count stopped and turned. ¡°We don¡¯t know if that¡¯s true.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve got a better chance than you do!¡±


    Since he didn¡¯t have an answer for that one, he attacked me on my weakest flank.


    ¡°If Conrad and I are on the upper floors, we can¡¯t protect you.¡±


    ¡°I can,¡± Wes said.


    Darius looked at him.


    ¡°I¡¯m a first-class pyro,¡± he said. ¡°Wuller¡¯s favorite freak.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re a minor,¡± Darius said.


    ¡°And that¡¯s bullshit. You¡¯re asking me to stand out here and watch my friend get caught in a fire when I¡¯m a pyrokinetic?¡±


    I could see the conflicted thoughts warring behind the vampire¡¯s eyes.


    ¡°Darius,¡± I said, ¡°you¡¯re talking to a bunch of delinquents and troublemakers. Do you really think he¡¯s going to listen if you tell him to wait out here?¡±


    That decided it.


    ¡°Mr. Reed, you will remain outside,¡± the count said.


    Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.


    ¡°That¡¯s not happening,¡± Eric said.


    ¡°No matter how heroic your intentions, you do not have the skills needed to cope with this. If you make me choose between the boy I know I can save and the boy I¡¯m not even sure I can find, I will leave Dustin to die. Emerra and Wes go in without you, or no one goes in.¡±


    That time, Darius didn¡¯t need his vampiric powers to inspire obedience. The resolve in his voice and the look in his eye was enough.


    Eric¡¯s face filled with angry grief, but he folded his arms and stepped back.


    The vampire went on, ¡°Emerra, Wes, try to explore as much of the ground floor as you can before the fire gets too big. Stay along the outside halls. Don¡¯t go into any room without a window, close any door you open, and if it becomes too dangerous or if you discover you can¡¯t control the fire, you leave.¡±


    ¡°Yes, sir,¡± Wes said.


    Darius turned and continued toward the building. His gait evolved from a fast walk, to a run, to a pace no human could match. He was at the building before any of us could move. He jumped up into the corner between one of the out-jutting towers and the main wall and launched himself up the crevice, moving from one impossibly small hold to another. When he reached the third floor, he kicked in the window and threw himself inside. The whole process had taken, maybe, two seconds.


    ¡°What the hell was that?¡± Eric asked.


    ¡°Evidence of a really compelling reason to listen to that particular authority figure.¡± I turned. ¡°Eric, when the firemen get here, tell them we¡¯re on the first floor.¡±


    ¡°What about Vasil and the wolfman?¡±


    ¡°No! Don¡¯t¡­don¡¯t tell them about that. When the other team gets here, tell them.¡±


    ¡°How will I know them?¡±


    ¡°Ask them if they¡¯re from the Torr.¡±


    He nodded. Mission received.


    ¡°Come on, Wes,¡± I said.


    We ran around the corner to the nearest door. I wrapped the edge of my hoodie around my hand and grabbed the door handle. It didn¡¯t feel hot. I opened the door and stepped inside. I only managed one more step before I had to cover my nose and mouth with my arm.


    The air was scorching. Hotter than the hottest summer day I¡¯d ever known. The smoke was thick enough, it made my eyes water. I had to squint to see. The flames rolled up the walls on either side of me, but the hallway was clear¡ªat least, as far as I could see in the haze. Wes closed the door behind us and came up to my side. As he got closer, the air around me cooled.


    ¡°Wes, which way?¡± I said over the noise of the fire.


    ¡°South. Toward the tower.¡±


    ¡°The one we were at last night? You think he might be there?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s one of his hiding spots, but I think I should warn you Emerra, when Dustin wants to hide, nobody can find him.¡±


    I decided to ignore that bit of information on the sound basis that I didn¡¯t like it.


    ¡°That tower is across the school,¡± I said. ¡°Can you get us there?¡±


    ¡°I think so.¡±


    He stepped ahead of me. The flames curled away from him as he walked. Every once in a while, he¡¯d raise a hand, and a nearby fire would shrink back.


    The deeper we got, the more uneasy I became. Around us, the fire seemed tame. The air was awful but breathable. But when I looked behind us, the flames were already creeping up to the ceiling, getting louder as they grew. Whole rooms were being eaten by them. When we reached the front hall off the main entrance, the blaze in front of us was big enough to make Wes pause.


    ¡°It¡¯s getting pretty bad, Emerra,¡± Wes shouted.


    ¡°Are you getting tired?¡±


    ¡°No, but the flames are getting big. It¡¯s harder to control them.¡±


    I glanced at the windows surrounding the double doors. There were shapes moving around outside. I could hear shouting and the faint sound of sirens. The firemen had arrived.


    ¡°This is probably when Mr. Vasil would tell you to get out,¡± Wes said.


    I couldn¡¯t help noticing that he¡¯d said ¡°you¡± and not ¡°us.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re pretty dumb, aren¡¯t you, Wes?¡±


    He took a half second to think about it. ¡°Yeah.¡±


    ¡°Me too. Let¡¯s keep going.¡±


    Wes held up his hands. For a second, nothing happened, then, slowly, the fire retreated, parting to both sides and flattening against the walls, creating a passage where none had existed before.


    We kept going.


    The building crackled around us. Horrible sounds came from every direction. A few feet further down the hall, the fire suddenly slackened, returning to the smaller flames burning around the bottom of the baseboards. The noise level dropped.


    Wes let his arms fall to his sides. When his deep breath turned into a loud cough, he bent over to get to the clearer air.


    I put my hand on his back. ¡°Tired yet?¡±


    He pushed on his legs to straighten himself. ¡°Getting there.¡±


    ¡°How far is it?¡±


    He pointed. ¡°Halfway down the hall.¡±


    The hall was mostly clear. I turned back the way we¡¯d come. The inferno had closed in behind us, and the benign little flames beside us were starting to grow.


    ¡°Come on,¡± I said.


    I grabbed Wes¡¯s arm and pulled him forward, but with every step, my reluctance increased. The eerie emptiness of the hall felt as terrible as the fire we¡¯d left behind.


    ¡°Emerra, we have to get out of here,¡± Wes said.


    I looked up. His face was grim.


    ¡°It¡¯s dangerous,¡± he added.


    Prickles of confusion and unease strolled across the back of my neck and down my arms. Was this Wes Osborn walking beside me?


    ¡°Okay,¡± I muttered. Louder, I said, ¡°But we can¡¯t go back. What¡¯s at the end of this hall?¡±


    ¡°The south wing, the greenhouse, and some staff rooms.¡±


    ¡°Let¡¯s keep going.¡±


    When we passed the door to the tower, Wes didn¡¯t even glance at it.


    I was almost at the end of the hall before I could force myself to stop. A step later, Wes turned, but he stood sideways, edging away from me and the hall behind me.


    I wiped the sweat away from my eyes and licked my lips. They tasted like smoke.


    ¡°Wes.¡± It felt like a steel cable tightened around my heart when I said his name. Was this what Darius felt like when he let me walk into danger? ¡°Rest for a second. Then I need you to try to find another way out. If you do find it, stay there as long as it¡¯s safe. The moment it¡¯s not safe, leave.¡±


    I turned to go.


    He grabbed my sleeve. ¡°Whoa. What about you?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m going to get Dustin. Don¡¯t worry, I don¡¯t think there¡¯s any fire.¡±


    He motioned to the door beside us. Needy little flame fingers played around the bottom edge. ¡°Do you see how fast this stuff is spreading?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s why I need you to find a way out. You¡¯re the only one that can keep it clear. Can you do that?¡±


    He hesitated, then nodded.


    ¡°Promise me you¡¯ll leave if it¡¯s not safe,¡± I said.


    ¡°And you?¡±


    I let out a dismal laugh. ¡°Believe me, I don¡¯t want to die in here. No way someone like me gets a third chance.¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    But I was already plunging back down the hall. The closer I got to the tower door, the more I wanted to turn around and leave.


    So that¡¯s your trick, Dustin.


    It felt like Darius¡¯s vampiric influence, only, this time, I was walking into the blanket, instead of having it thrown over me. There was a deep mental resistance, real enough it felt like I was slogging through pudding, but since I knew what it was, I could ignore it and slog on.


    Dustin didn¡¯t have to stop Conrad¡¯s nose. All he had to do was stop Conrad from coming down the hall.


    But why hadn¡¯t Conrad realized what was happening?


    That would be a question for a better time. A time with less fire.


    I tried to open the tower door. It was locked. I tightened my grip and tried to force it, but it didn¡¯t work for me the way it had worked for Eric. I wondered if it only worked when Dustin was around.


    Welp! He had his talents, and I had mine.


    I pounded on the door. ¡°Dustin! I know you¡¯re in there. Please open the door!¡±


    No answer.


    I left my fist on the door and let my head drop against the wood. ¡°Yeah, that¡¯s what I thought. Look, you probably know there¡¯s a fire out here. I don¡¯t know how you protected this place, but it looks like it¡¯s failing. Now, I don¡¯t want to die, but I¡¯m not going anywhere until you let me in.¡±


    I was trembling all over, but I stood on my toes, in case yelling taller might make it easier for him to hear me.


    ¡°Go on! Read my mind! I¡¯m serious! And even if I chicken out, it¡¯ll be too late for me to save myself, because I¡¯m both overconfident and a wuss¡ªit¡¯s a deadly combination!¡±


    A thrum of power pushed through me, making my bones ache. All I wanted to do was run. I gripped the door handle as hard as I could.


    ¡°Nice try. That doesn¡¯t work on me,¡± I lied. ¡°There¡¯s a proper way to pull a tantrum, and if you want me to go away, you¡¯ll have to yell it in my face like any other respectable teenager.¡±


    Still no answer.


    I turned around and slid down the door until I was sitting on the floor. The air was slightly cleaner, but I couldn¡¯t yell any more. I was too tired. My throat hurt.


    ¡°Here¡¯s the thing,¡± I said, ¡°I¡¯m not going to let you die alone. I know¡­I know that¡¯s probably what you want, but no one should have to die alone. Especially not someone as cool as you.¡±


    I folded my arms. My hoodie was hot to the touch.


    ¡°I¡¯ll stay here,¡± I added. ¡°In case you need me.¡±


    A few seconds later, the lock above me clicked. I stood up, opened the door, cautiously stepped inside, and shut the door behind me.


    The room was darker than it should have been, even with all the lights blown out, even with the smoke outside crowding the windows. I could barely make out where Dustin was sitting, knees up to his chest, tucked into the curve of the staircase. The edge of every color was distorted by a wavering, pearlized sheen. The sound was wrong too. Everything was quiet and far away, like we were hearing through water. When I moved, I felt my foot touch the ground twice, and the floor rippled under my sneaker.


    ¡°What¡¯s this?¡± I asked as I made my way toward him.


    He didn¡¯t move at first. Then his shoulders twitched up in a small shrug.


    ¡°Has it ever happened before?¡±


    Dustin held up two fingers for less than a second.


    I eased myself onto the floor next to him, trying to ignore the sight of the hardwood bending like the surface of a pond.


    I leaned back on the wall. ¡°Bad times, huh?¡±


    He nodded.


    I scooted until our sides were touching and pulled my knees up to my chest. Then I took a deep breath and let it go. My sadness fluttered like a moth disturbed by a breeze.


    I didn¡¯t say anything. I wished, hard enough to make my heart hurt, that I had something clever or brilliant I could say¡ªsomething that would make everything better¡ªbut I didn¡¯t. All I could do was sit there and care, so that¡¯s what I was going to do.


    After almost a minute, Dustin whispered, ¡°You died alone?¡±


    ¡°Yeah,¡± I whispered back. ¡°It was the loneliest thing in the world. So lonely, it leaves a hole in you.¡± I turned my head to look at him. ¡°There¡¯s a reason I¡¯m not going to let it happen to you.¡±


    ¡°But you¡¯re alive again?¡±


    I smiled. ¡°Weird, right?¡±


    Dustin let out a tiny breath of a laugh. ¡°Yeah. Weird.¡±


    Another minute passed. The smoke outside the windows grew thicker.


    ¡°Did it hurt?¡± he asked.


    ¡°Death?¡±


    He nodded.


    ¡°Dude, I had cancer. Back then, I hurt. Everything hurt. Death seemed like a pretty good alternative, you know?¡±


    There was another weak laugh. ¡°Yeah, I know.¡±


    I put my arm over him. I wondered if he¡¯d object, but he didn¡¯t. I pulled him close and hurt for both of us¡ªfor everyone who¡¯d ever been there.


    It was a lot of hurt.


    He started trembling. I heard the dull sound of his jerky inhales as he cried. I put my hand on his head and pulled it to mine. His hair was silky under my fingers, and despite the scent of smoke caught on my clothes, I could smell his shampoo. It was a tiny, incidental marker of a normal life, interrupted. I gazed into the iridescent darkness and thought about all the millions of normal moments that make up a life, and how beautiful they all were.


    When Dustin¡¯s trembling stopped, I pulled away, sniffed, and wiped my tears with my sleeve.


    ¡°Hey,¡± I said, ¡°Scott wants me to tell you that you¡¯re a stinker for not visiting, and you owe him Doritos when his surgery is over.¡±


    He wiped his eyes with his palm. ¡°Is-is that how you¡¯re going to try to talk me into living?¡±


    I leaned in. ¡°You don¡¯t want to die a debtor, do you?¡±


    He shook his head, like he couldn¡¯t believe me, but he was smiling too. ¡°Aren¡¯t you supposed to tell me that things are going to get better?¡±


    ¡°I can do that. I mean, things can¡¯t get any worse, so they¡¯re bound to get better, right?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re really bad at this, Emerra.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know the future, Dustin. I can¡¯t tell you what¡¯s going to happen. All I know is that there¡¯s going to be changes.¡±


    His eyes dropped. His Adam¡¯s apple bobbed when he tried to swallow.


    ¡°And I know that¡¯s not what you wanted,¡± I said.


    ¡°We had another year,¡± he moaned. ¡°I liked this stupid school. Turner. My stupid house. I had the world¡¯s greatest, dumbest roommate. This was the first time I¡¯ve ever had friends.¡± He threw his hand up, motioning to the world in general. ¡°I ruined that. Like always.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, the school is pretty much done for,¡± I agreed, ¡°but you know they¡¯re still your friends.¡±


    He frowned.


    I knocked my knuckles against his head. ¡°Read my mind. You¡¯ve got a talent¡ªuse it! I¡¯m not lying. And we¡¯re all really selfish. Wes, Eric, Scott, and me¡ªwe want you to keep living because it would break our hearts if you died. I¡¯ll tell you whatever you want to hear, but none of that matters because, right now, we just want you to come out safe.¡±


    ¡°I lit the whole damn school on fire! I¡¯ve never lost control like this before. What am I going to do?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it. You¡¯ve got the right hand of death on your side. We¡¯ll take care of it.¡±


    ¡°What? Did¡­did you mean ¡®the right hand of god?¡¯¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know. Never met them. But Darius Vasil is plenty scary, and he¡¯s going to kill me if I don¡¯t get out of here soon.¡± I stood up and put my hand out. ¡°Are you ready, Dustin?¡±


    He took my hand and hauled himself to his feet.


    As he rose, the sound settled, the iridescence dwindled, and the darkness faded. We could see the yellow-brown light coming in from the windows. The real world was back.


    What a shame it was still on fire.

 Chapter 46 - Escape

    ¡°We have to find Wes,¡± I said.


    Dustin followed me to the door. ¡°Wes is here?¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s the only reason I got this far. You couldn¡¯t sense him?¡±


    ¡°I wasn¡¯t searching for him.¡±


    I opened the door. The flames were everywhere, rolling up the walls, spreading across the ceiling.


    I shut the door.


    ¡°Can you sense him now?¡± I asked.


    ¡°How bad is it?¡± Dustin said.


    ¡°Pretty bad. But you¡¯re powerful, right? How good are you at controlling fire?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not! I only ever tried to repress it, and it only worked on my fires.¡±


    I pointed at him. My index finger was an inch away from his nose. ¡°From now on, you practice.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll remember that if we make it out of here alive.¡±


    ¡°Are you better at telepathy?¡±


    He looked uncomfortable, but he nodded.


    ¡°See if you can sense Wes. If he isn¡¯t here, we¡¯re leaving out the windows.¡±


    ¡°And if he is here?¡±


    ¡°If he¡¯s still out in that, we probably need to go save him.¡±


    Dustin closed his eyes. A perfect stillness fell over him. Three seconds later he opened them.


    ¡°He¡¯s that way.¡± He pointed down the hall.


    ¡°I¡¯ll give you bonus points if you can tell me how he feels.¡±


    ¡°Scared. And mad.¡±


    ¡°Ding, ding, ding! You get the prize, Mr. Walman! Now, for the once in a lifetime chance to save your friend¡ªcan you try to repress this fire?¡±


    He swallowed. ¡°I can try.¡±


    ¡°Thank you. Ready?¡±


    He looked as scared as a kid can look¡ªalmost as scared as I felt¡ªbut he nodded.


    I opened the door again.


    Circe was right: practice really does matter. Wes had made controlling the fire look like nothing. Dustin managed to keep a lot of the heat away, and he could push back some of the flames, but only if he was focusing, and only in a small area.


    But it was a whole lot better than the nothing I could do, so I was grateful.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think this is going to work,¡± Dustin said.


    ¡°Do what you can. That¡¯s all anyone can ask from you.¡±


    We moved down the hall, dodging out of the way of the worst flames and working toward where Wes was hopefully protecting an exit.


    Dustin suddenly wrapped his arm around me, pressing my hot hoodie and blazing zipper against me, and jerked me around.


    The wall I had been standing by erupted in fire. If it had been doused in gas and I had been a lit match, the effect couldn¡¯t have been more catastrophic.


    ¡°Was that you?¡± I shouted over the noise of the fire.


    ¡°I saw it,¡± Dustin said.


    The way he said ¡°saw it¡± made me think of how Circe ¡°saw things.¡± They both added the same odd undertone to the word.


    ¡°Does that mean you can see the safest route?¡±


    ¡°I¡­I guess¡ªbut I can¡¯t move while I¡¯m trying to see. If I¡¯m doing it on purpose, I can only see the future or the past.¡±


    Seeing double must be another thing that comes with practice.


    ¡°I¡¯ll guide you,¡± I said. ¡°You tell me where to go.¡±


    With how thick the smoke was getting, it was a case of the nearly blind leading the blind. I put all my faith in Dustin, ducking and moving as he instructed down the burning hall, pausing in doorways, walking through connected rooms.


    When we emerged into the hall again, we were out of the hottest fires of hell and into the more modest flames of heck. The hall¡ªor what was left of it¡ªwas running a different direction than it had before. We¡¯d made it to the south wing.


    ¡°Wes!¡± I yelled.


    I thought I saw something move in the smoke and flames. I tried to walk forward, but Dustin grabbed me.


    The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.


    ¡°Don¡¯t move!¡±


    ¡°But¡ª¡±


    ¡°Not a step!¡±


    I heard the crack.


    I grabbed Dustin and pulled him close. We ducked our heads over each other¡¯s shoulders as the ceiling beams crashed down.


    The fire had been working on all of the floors. The first floor was the slow burner. Now the incendiary debris from above was coming to help finish the job.


    When the noise stopped, I wiped at Dustin¡¯s hair, trying to remove anything that might have settled there.


    ¡°I¡¯m fine,¡± he said, ¡°but we have to keep going.¡±


    ¡°Which way?¡±


    He pointed to the gigantic blackened beams crisscrossing the hall like an ominous warning to ¡°go no further!¡±


    ¡°Why couldn¡¯t I have had super strength? Huh? Tell me that!¡± I yelled to the uncaring universe¡ªprobably the same uncaring universe that thinks it¡¯s funny to give ominous warnings about things people have to do anyway.


    Dustin stepped forward. ¡°Let me try.¡±


    He stared at the beams. They lifted away from the wall, shuddered, and broke apart. The mess crashed to the floor, tumbling into a flat heap.


    ¡°You have to walk over them,¡± he said. ¡°Whatever you do, don¡¯t step on them.¡±


    ¡°Anything else?¡±


    ¡°Move fast and be careful. I have to keep my eyes open to do this.¡±


    I picked my way through the beams as fast as I could. Whenever I had to step over them, I could feel the heat scorching the leg of my jeans.


    When I was on the other side, I stopped and looked around. Fire in front of us. Fire behind. No doubt, fire above.


    Well. Crap.


    We both stood there, hands on our knees, trying to breathe whatever air was left.


    ¡°Dustin, can you deal with the flames?¡±


    He shook his head.


    ¡°Can you ¡®see¡¯ anything?¡± I asked.


    ¡°We¡¯re stuck.¡±


    A white fear rolled through my stomach before my brain noticed that Dustin was smiling.


    ¡°But not for long,¡± he said.


    Then I heard him. Wes Osborn. He was swearing worse than a pirate who¡¯d stubbed his toe during a cussing competition and screaming about what he would do to Dustin the moment he got him out of there¡ªand he would get Dustin out of there, because, dammit, the only thing going to kill the little Scottish bastard was him!


    The blaze parted and Wes stepped out of the smoke. He walked up to Dustin, and the two of them threw their arms over each other. The flames around us shrank and rolled away so fast it looked like they were fleeing for their lives.


    I watched, awed, as the clear area spread down the hall.


    Maybe it would be enough¡­


    It wasn¡¯t.


    Whatever power Wes was using, it waned at nine feet. Beyond that, I could see the fire, still growing and eagerly assessing the territory it had controlled a moment before.


    ¡°This way,¡± Wes said.


    He took a step, then stopped.


    ¡°Um,¡± he said.


    He turned around. Flames had claimed the pile of ceiling beams. He turned around again.


    ¡°Yup,¡± I said, ¡°that¡¯s where you came from.¡±


    ¡°But¡ª¡±


    ¡°You were keeping the fire down, Wes. Then you came to get us. Now you¡¯re keeping the fire down here.¡±


    ¡°Can you control it?¡± Dustin asked.


    ¡°Of course I can!¡± Wes insisted.


    I glanced at Dustin. If his expression was anything to go by, the empath didn¡¯t put much stock in Wes¡¯s bravado, but he didn¡¯t contradict him either.


    We started toward the end of the south wing with Wes leading, but we only made it twelve feet¡ªif that. The flames rolling off the walls on either side of us were so big, they met in the middle of the hall.


    Dustin stopped. ¡°We can¡¯t go any further.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡± Wes asked.


    ¡°We die.¡±


    I looked around. It was no good. Everywhere I turned was the same fiery wall. The ceiling was creaking. Standing next to Osborn was super dangerous. Being anywhere else was lethal.


    ¡°Dustin?¡± I said.


    ¡°I need a second.¡± He closed his eyes, grit his teeth, and held still.


    A second. Okay. We probably had that.


    Dustin opened his eyes. ¡°Wes, I¡¯m going to put up a shield¡ª¡±


    ¡°You can do that?¡±


    ¡°Shut up for once and listen! I want you to pull the fire to us¡ª¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    Dustin glared.


    ¡°Right!¡± Wes cried. ¡°You¡¯re the smart one! I pull the fire to us.¡±


    ¡°Focus it on the floor. Try to make it burn as hot and fast as possible!¡±


    ¡°Yes, sir!¡±


    They both acted at once. I stood between them, the silent spectator.


    Wes held his arms out wide. The flames on the floor leapt up, taller than us. Dustin turned in a circle, his eyes moving everywhere. Every speck of dust, every bit of ash and smoke, every spark¡ªit all flew away to hang in the air, three feet out. I could see it gathering against the edge of Dustin¡¯s power, like rain dashing against a clear umbrella.


    It wasn¡¯t a shield. It was telekinesis. He was pushing away everything except us and the air.


    The fire around us made a perfect circle. It tore through the floor, burning a deep ring into the boards. There was a crack. Another.


    ¡°Dustin!¡± Wes yelled.


    ¡°Keep going!¡±


    Wes raised his arms higher. Tiny blue flames rolled down his forearms and danced off his fingertips.


    At the last second, Dustin threw his arms around us both. The descending roller-coaster lightness filled my body as the floor gave way. We fell in slow motion. I saw the beige-white walls of the hydrotherapy room soar upward. The floor we¡¯d brought with us and the false floor below us were blasted out of the way. Fragments of teal and yellow tiles flew like shrapnel. We landed, hard, in a perfectly round crater. Rubble from the floor above rained down and scattered to the edges of the hole. I could see the flames, a million miles above us, looking down, wondering if we were okay.


    Then everything went black.


    The sound came back first.


    It was slow and muddled. Like I was hearing through water.


    Dustin?


    Were we back in the tower, somehow lost in the edge of reality he¡¯d created?


    But we were in the basement. I remembered the fall.


    As my thoughts grew clearer, so did the noise.


    It was Eric. He sounded so far away, but he was screaming at the top of his lungs.


    His friends were down there. He knew it.


    And on and on. That kid would fight the gods if all the stupid adults would stop holding him back.


    I winced when the breath of my laugh made my ribs rock. Everything hurt.


    But it wasn¡¯t a billion degrees. And the air moving in and out of my lungs was warm, but not hot.


    My eyes fluttered open. I could see the hole in the ceiling, the charred remains of the ceiling above that one, and daylight. Too much daylight. The diffused light poured in from the left, across the first floor.


    Eric was still screaming.


    I tried to lift my head. I could barely move it. I tried to speak, but it hurt too much and in too many ways. Pain was a creative tyrant, and, apparently, she had missed me.


    Someone moved beside me. It wasn¡¯t more than a twitch, but someone else down here was alive.


    A new beam of light appeared. It was smaller, warmer. It moved around above us. No. There were two of them. At first I couldn¡¯t understand what it meant. There were more voices.


    They¡¯re flashlights, my brain supplied. There are people up there with flashlights.


    The flashlights started blinking on and off. Slowly at first, then faster. They started flashing in unison.


    From the floor above, I heard a stranger¡¯s voice: ¡°What the hell?¡±


    Three short blinks. Three long blinks. Three short blinks.


    Dustin was alive.


    Smiling hurt, but I did it anyway.


    ¡°Get over here!¡±


    I knew that voice. Darius Vasil. Always giving orders.


    ¡°We found them,¡± he said.


    I shut my eyes again. We were safe. I didn¡¯t need to have them open anymore.


    I heard the crack when Darius¡¯s dress shoes landed on what was left of the floor.

 Chapter 47 - The Remains

    The morning was a cold one. The weatherman had threatened rain, but the clouds had thinned enough some light could get through. It got caught on the mist and dust, making bright shapes. Some of them looked more solid than the clouds.


    Wayne Wuller stood at the edge of the wreck and gazed at the blackened stones and timbers.


    Vasil stood beside him.


    They were silent for a long time.


    Wuller spoke.


    ¡°I can¡¯t help feeling like second lessons should be starting soon. I catch myself checking my watch. Seven years of habits. It may take a while to get used to.¡±


    ¡°Are you going to rebuild?¡± Darius asked.


    ¡°This heap?¡± Wuller used his umbrella to point at the charred school. ¡°No.¡± He eyed Darius. ¡°It was one hundred and seventy years old. Did you know that?¡±


    ¡°I did.¡±


    Wuller turned back to the rubble. ¡°I¡¯m sad that it was destroyed on my watch.¡± The bluffness returned to his voice. ¡°But it was only a building! The boys are all alive and well, the teachers and staff escaped unharmed, and thank the lord for insurance!¡±


    ¡°Has anyone been asking how the fire started?¡±


    ¡°Oh, everyone. The insurance wants a way out of paying, no doubt. The police have been around. They won¡¯t say it, but they¡¯re trying to prove that one of the boys started it. The fire service is investigating, but I think they only want to know what happened.¡± Wuller chuckled. ¡°Good luck to them.¡±


    If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.


    ¡°What did you tell them?¡±


    ¡°I told them it was the psychic echoes.¡± Wuller gazed at Darius through his bushy eyebrows. ¡°They think I¡¯m crazy, if you can believe that.¡±


    The count smiled.


    Wuller said, ¡°Has the Torr been asking about the pyros?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Darius said. ¡°They¡¯re satisfied it was something else. If there had been a distinct ignition point, they might have had more questions¡ªbut for the whole building to go up like that?¡±


    ¡°Exactly. None of my pyros could do that. I doubt any psychic could.¡±


    This time, Vasil had to bite back his smile so Wuller wouldn¡¯t see it.


    ¡°I understand the Torr is tracking the boys?¡± the headmaster said.


    ¡°For now.¡±


    ¡°Have any of them been able to call up their powers?¡±


    ¡°No, the powers seem to be gone, but that makes sense if they were tied to the building.¡±


    A sigh ruffled Wuller¡¯s mustache.


    ¡°What are you going to do now?¡± Darius asked.


    ¡°Hmm? Oh!¡± Wuller turned away from what was left of Setlan on Lee. ¡°I¡¯ve already got Miller putting in bids for two or three suitable buildings.¡±


    Vasil turned as well.


    As they walked back to Wuller¡¯s car, the headmaster went on, ¡°Of course, none of them will have the history this one did.¡±


    ¡°Maybe that¡¯s a good thing,¡± Darius said.


    ¡°Yes, I like the poetry of it. A new building means a fresh start. Some of the boys I take in¡ªthey could use a fresh start.¡±


    ¡°Are you going to continue taking in last-chance boys?¡±


    ¡°Of course! That¡¯s always been one of my guiding principles. I believe in taking in boys that need help, Mr. Vasil. Not just the psychics.¡± Wuller used his fob to unlock the doors.


    Darius paused, surprised by the strength of his own emotions. Over the roof of the car, he said, ¡°I¡¯m glad to hear that, Mr. Wuller. I wish you the best success.¡±


    Wuller flashed him a grateful, awkward smile. They both got in.


    They drove past the high stone walls and through the iron gates that were standing open.

 Chapter 48 - Circes Apprentice

    Three days later, we were being driven deep into the country in a sleek limousine. Dustin nodded a few times as Darius explained his rights and responsibilities as a recognized member of the Albion Torr, but you didn¡¯t need to be a telepath to know he wasn¡¯t listening. He never raised his eyes, his face was motionless and slack except for his slight frown, and all his responses were slow in coming. Eventually, Darius gave up. He reached into his vest pocket and pulled out a card.


    It was a brand-new suit, so I had to assume that he¡¯d been carrying some in his suit during the fire. I was surprised there weren¡¯t any burnt edges.


    ¡°Mr. Walman.¡± That particular note in the vampire¡¯s voice could make a name sound like a command.


    Dustin looked up.


    ¡°This is my card. If you ever have any questions or concerns, call me. Leave a message. I¡¯ll make sure that you have the help you need.¡±


    Dustin¡¯s fingers closed over the card, but Darius didn¡¯t let go.


    ¡°Don¡¯t lose it,¡± he said.


    Dustin nodded.


    The vampire released his grip. Dustin pulled out his wallet and put the card inside. I couldn¡¯t help noticing that he still had his Setlan on Lee student ID.


    Darius sat back. ¡°We should be there soon.¡±


    I nudged Dustin with my shoulder. ¡°It¡¯s okay. They promised they¡¯d call and write. And Wes is threatening to bring them all up to visit you on the weekends.¡±


    Dustin smiled sadly. ¡°He says it¡¯s because he wants his power back.¡±


    I had to think about that for a second.


    ¡°Was he lying?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Yes, but even if they do come visit, it won¡¯t be the same, will it?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Conrad said, ¡°it won¡¯t be.¡±


    Dustin looked up at the wolfman. Conrad was watching him with his soft, yellow eyes.


    ¡°But that¡¯s not always a bad thing,¡± Conrad said, ¡°and you¡¯d know better than anyone if they care about you. That¡¯s what matters.¡±


    Their eyes stayed locked for a few seconds. I would have given my right arm to know what was passing between them.


    What would it be like to know¡ªnot just hope¡ªthat someone cared about you? Or respected you?


    ¡°We¡¯re here,¡± Darius said.


    The limo pulled off the already dubious dirt road onto a rutted drive.


    Circe was standing in front of her small, two-story, stone house. The yard around it was wild with plants. A border collie, looking almost as old as the witch and twice as brazen, sat beside her. Circe¡¯s arms were folded across her chest. She was smoking her pipe and smiling.


    Darius got out first.


    ¡°Good evening, Mr. Vasil,¡± she said.


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    ¡°Good evening, Circe.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re flying out tonight?¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re driving directly to the airfield from here.¡±


    ¡°You should slow down a bit, old man. It¡¯s not good to be always rushing.¡± When I got out, Circe said, ¡°It¡¯s good to see you again, Emerra.¡±


    ¡°Hello, Circe,¡± I said.


    Dustin emerged.


    Circe¡¯s smile turned into a grin. ¡°Dustin Walman. There you are.¡±


    I thought I saw her eyes water, but if they did, they were dry by the time she stepped up to him. She looked him up and down and took her time doing it. Her face radiated approval.


    ¡°I¡¯ve been looking for you,¡± she said.


    Dustin had started edging toward me, but he stopped when he heard that. ¡°You¡¯ve been looking for me?¡±


    ¡°Everywhere and always. You burned that place to the ground, didn¡¯t you? Good boy.¡±


    ¡°Do you know me?¡±


    ¡°Better than you¡¯d think, but not so well as I will. You¡¯re Dustin Walman. Kind-hearted. Deep. You think you¡¯re lost, but I assure you, you¡¯ve just been found. You think my pipe stinks, and you¡¯re the only man in the world who¡¯ll ever get me to stop smoking.¡±


    She blew a bit of smoke right in his face.


    He coughed. ¡°How?¡±


    ¡°With a rather neat little psychic trick, but if you think I¡¯ll tell you, you¡¯re crazy. Figure it out on your own. Take your time. I¡¯ll try to enjoy every pipe I have left.¡±


    She winked at him.


    ¡°Circe,¡± Darius said, ¡°the Torr¡ª¡±


    She waved him away. ¡°Never mind them. Never mind whatever they think they have to do with this. This is between me and my apprentice.¡±


    She said to Dustin, ¡°You¡¯d better know, I¡¯m a farmer and a gardener, so as of today, you¡¯re a farmer and a gardener. There¡¯ll be no more math or language lessons, but you don¡¯t need anymore of that anyway. Most of what you¡¯ll be doing is chores, but you¡¯re welcome to use as many of your powers as you want to get them done. In the evening, if you¡¯ve got the time and energy, I¡¯ll teach you what I can about how to handle your abilities and when you can safely ignore the Torr, but most of that won¡¯t matter because what you really needed was peace and quiet and some time in the country. You¡¯ll think I¡¯m annoying, and I¡¯ll think you¡¯re entitled and impertinent, and we¡¯ll like each other very much.¡±


    She turned. ¡°I¡¯ll go get some water started for tea. You¡¯ll want some. You have a minute to say goodbye. Then come right in. Don¡¯t bother knocking.¡±


    She went back to the house. The dog followed her after huffing at the interlopers.


    Darius got out Dustin¡¯s trunk while Dustin turned to me.


    ¡°Is that what I¡¯m like?¡± he asked.


    I laughed. ¡°Not yet. Maybe never. Circe lives a bit left of time. But who knows? Maybe with some practice.¡±


    He didn¡¯t look excited about the prospect.


    ¡°I¡¯ll keep in touch,¡± I told him. ¡°Us weirdos have to stick together.¡±


    ¡°Okay.¡±


    My stomach sank when I heard how dismal his voice was.


    ¡°Unless you don¡¯t want me to?¡± I said.


    ¡°No! No, I-I do. I just¡ª¡± He made a face. In a quiet voice, he admitted, ¡°When you leave, that¡¯s it. All my friends are gone. At least, for a while.¡±


    ¡°Not all of them.¡± I nodded to the house.


    He looked even more uncertain.


    ¡°Hey,¡± I said. ¡°She says you¡¯ll like each other, and she hasn¡¯t been wrong yet. Can I hug you?¡±


    He rolled his eyes, but he¡¯d called me his friend, and there¡¯s a price to pay when you unthinkingly make friends with a loud, obnoxious American.


    I held him tight. ¡°Take care of yourself, Dustin.¡±


    ¡°I will,¡± he promised.


    I let him go, stepped back, and blinked away a few tears.


    Darius put Dustin¡¯s trunk down beside him. ¡°Your trunk is rather heavy, Mr. Walman. Do you think you have enough control to manage it?¡±


    ¡°I think so.¡±


    The box rose a few inches into the air.


    ¡°Thank you,¡± Dustin said. ¡°Thank you both.¡± He waved and walked toward the open door.


    Darius and I got back in the limo, and the count told the driver to take us to the airfield. I sat next to Conrad and leaned against him before remembering that I didn¡¯t have the excuse of needing to squint at a shared six-inch screen. I tried to muster enough energy to sit up.


    ¡°I don¡¯t mind,¡± the wolfman said.


    Thank god.


    I dropped my head back on his arm. ¡°Am I annoying you yet?¡±


    ¡°Not yet. Are you tired?¡±


    ¡°She should be,¡± Darius said as he settled back into his seat. ¡°Three days is hardly enough for her to recover from what she¡¯s been through. Not to mention the sleep deprivation she¡¯s endured.¡±


    ¡°Rub it in, why don¡¯t you,¡± I grumbled into Conrad¡¯s sleeve. Despite the many washings, it still faintly smelled of smoke.


    The Torr hadn¡¯t been able to find a plain flannel shirt in Conrad¡¯s size. He¡¯d decided he¡¯d rather wear the old one than do without.


    They hadn¡¯t been able to replace my Avatar shirt either. That made them seem a bit useless to me¡ªbut they had replaced Olivia¡¯s luggage with something nicer, so at least she couldn¡¯t yell at me for long.


    I had a feeling Olivia would never loan me anything ever again.


    I smiled.


    ¡°You¡¯re happy?¡± Conrad said.


    ¡°I¡¯m glad to be going home.¡±

 Epilogue - Home

    I came barreling in the front doors of the Noctis mansion after throwing both of them wide. There was no way I could fit all my excitement through a mere three-foot gap.


    ¡°We¡¯re home!¡± I yelled.


    The door to Jacky¡¯s study opened, and Noctis came out.


    ¡°Welcome home, Emerra,¡± he said.


    Darius came in behind me. ¡°Yes, welcome home, but you don¡¯t have to shout.¡±


    ¡°Oh, yes, I do! Where¡¯s Igor?¡±


    ¡°The kitchen, I would assume,¡± Noctis said. ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°Because I need to tell him, right now, how much he means to me.¡±


    Olivia and Iset came out of the library.


    The witch put a hand to her chest. ¡°Thank god you¡¯re back.¡±


    ¡°Did you miss us?¡±


    She rolled her eyes. ¡°You have no idea. Kappa? Kappa!¡±


    She ran down the hall, toward the kitchen.


    Iset came over and stood next to Darius. ¡°How was the flight?¡±


    ¡°About what you¡¯d expect,¡± he said.


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    ¡°I¡¯m glad you¡¯re home safe.¡±


    ¡°Me too.¡±


    I stepped closer to the mummy. ¡°Did Olivia really miss me?¡±


    Iset hummed for a moment. ¡°I think it¡¯s more about how much Kappa missed you. He always wanted to know when you were coming back, but his concept of time isn¡¯t the most reliable, so we had to tell him several times a day.¡±


    ¡°Several times?¡± Darius said, smiling.


    ¡°Not more than a dozen.¡±


    ¡°Ohhh, poor guy,¡± I said. ¡°I should have called.¡±


    ¡°Mera!¡±


    Kappa¡¯s joyful cry made my heart thrill. Nothing in the world beats coming home to someone who loves you.


    ¡°Kappa!¡± I yelled.


    Darius winced away from the noise.


    My beloved bog-monster galumphed down the long hall as fast as his four legs could carry him. When he was close enough, he launched himself at me, hitting me in the chest and throwing his arms around my neck. Darius had to put his hand on my back so I wouldn¡¯t fall.


    ¡°Hey, buddy!¡± I laughed and squeezed him in return.


    ¡°Mera-Mera!¡±


    ¡°Yeah. That¡¯s me.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re home!¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m home.¡±


    He scowled at me. ¡°Stay home.¡±


    ¡°Okay, I¡¯ll stay home. For now.¡±


    ¡°Big!¡± He craned his body in all directions to look around the hall.


    Oh, geez. He was too heavy to be doing that.


    I put my arm on his back and pulled him closer to me. ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°Big! Where¡¯s the wolfman?¡±


    ¡°Conrad? He should be right behind us.¡±


    A huge shadow cut off most of the sunlight streaming through the door. Kappa ducked his head and his top fin flattened against his skull. He peered over my shoulder at the wolfman.


    ¡°Welcome back, Conrad,¡± Jacky said.


    ¡°Thank you, Mr. Noctis.¡±


    I jostled Kappa. ¡°Go on,¡± I whispered. ¡°Say hello.¡±


    The bog-creature didn¡¯t move.


    ¡°Weren¡¯t you asking about him?¡± I said.


    Still, Kappa stared. Then I felt him slowly peel one webbed hand off my shoulder and offer Conrad a tiny wave.


    ¡°Hello, Kappa,¡± the wolfman said softly.


    When I looked around, Conrad was smiling.


    For information about the release for the next book in the series, Christmas Noctis, see below, in the post-chapter author notes.

 Prologue to Christmas Noctis

    The snow had crusted over, so every staggered step was accompanied by a brittle crunching sound. The hard edge of the snowpack scraped Anna¡¯s calf almost up to her knee. She grit her teeth so she wouldn¡¯t cry.


    The boys needed her.


    Jan had buried his face in her neck and hair. From the way he was shaking, Anna guessed he was weeping.


    She tried to hoist him higher on her back, but her arms were weak with fatigue.


    Jacob grabbed her sleeve. ¡°Our footprints.¡±


    She shook her head. ¡°It can¡¯t be helped.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯ll find us.¡±


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    She thought, bitterly, that it was going to find them anyway.


    Aloud, she said, ¡°We have to go somewhere safe.¡±


    Tears spilled onto Jacob¡¯s cheeks. ¡°Safe? There¡¯s nowhere. We have nowhere to go!¡± His tiny chest rose and fell with his sob. ¡°Anna, no one will take us in.¡±


    Anna stopped and looked around.


    The moonlight was shining off the snow. The forest was crowded with trees and shadows. Blue. Black. White. Everything was sharp: the snow, the smell of the pine, and the wind that snapped through her thin cape.


    It would get colder before the sun rose.


    She turned west. ¡°They might.¡±


    Jacob¡¯s hand tightened on her sleeve. ¡°We can¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°Why not?¡±


    ¡°Dominie said not to go there without him. He said to be careful.¡±


    ¡°Dominie¡¯s dead. We will be too if we don¡¯t get inside.¡±


    ¡°Will they help us?¡±


    ¡°Maybe. They¡¯re powerful. If they want to help us, they can.¡±


    For a link to the new novel, see the author note below.