As we walked through the humongous mansion, I took a good look at my guide. I wanted to figure Iset out, but I didn’t know how to judge someone by their bandages. About the only thing I could tell was that she was even more knowledgeable than Jacky had let on. As we walked, she gave me a running commentary that would’ve been the envy of any professional tour guide.

I lost track of the rooms around the time I learned there was one called “the conservatory.” When there’s a conservatory, you might as well give up because you aren’t going to learn about them all in one tour. I made sure to pay attention to where the kitchen was, then I kind of let it all blur.

Eventually, my exhaustion and bewilderment overcame my sense of good manners, and I interrupted the mummy.

“Okay, so, are you Egyptian?”

The moment the question left my mouth, my face burned with embarrassment. Iset didn’t rush me through it either. She gave me a nice, long, awkward silence to enjoy myself in.

“Yes,” she said at last.

I let out my breath with unconscious relief.

“It wasn’t a dumb question, Emerra. Most people would have simply assumed, but you were smart enough to ask. I was mummified in Egypt. My father was Egyptian, my mother was from West Africa.”

Iset’s voice was low and smooth. When she wanted to sound reassuring, it was the most soothing sound in the world.

I blathered on, “It’s just, your bandages look so new. Does magic mean the bandages don’t age? Is it even magic? How would I know! But then you do look like an Egyptian mummy—”

“But maybe someone more modern faked it?” She sounded amused.

I shrugged.

“I have to change the bandages every decade or so. It’s not an easy process for me, but it’s better than trailing my dressings along the floor.”

“Well, yeah. It’d be the Three Stooges if someone stepped on them.” I glanced at the blank area where her face should have been, then looked away. “Sorry.”

“I’m not upset,” Iset said. “I’m smiling—or, at least, my soul is smiling. It’s a shame you can’t see it.”

I raised my eyes.

“That’s what you were worried about, isn’t it?” she asked.

I shrugged with only one shoulder.

“I’m glad you have a sense of humor. I know this is a lot to take in—believe me, I know—but if you do decide to stay with us, a sense of humor will be invaluable.”

She turned and walked on.

I tagged along. “Ms. Iset—”

“Just Iset, please.”

“Iset, how long have you been here?”

“Here in this mansion? Since 1896. We bought it when the original owner died under mysterious circumstances.”

My brain ran after that bait like the focus-bereft squirrel it was. “What were the mysterious circumstances?”

“He made Jacky angry.”

“And that constitutes a mysterious circumstance?”

“The police certainly thought so. I think it’s a mystery how anyone managed to upset Jacky that much.”

“He’s pretty even tempered?”

“Let’s say that he tends to take the long view of things.”

“How long have you been with him?”

The mummy stopped. When her body turned, I felt her eyes, hidden behind layers of bandages, watching me.

“Emerra, do you realize these are very personal questions?”

“I’m not trying to be rude. I’m just—”

“Curious. That’s understandable. But when Jacky said you could ask me questions, he meant you could ask about the mansion, or yourself and your condition. Or, perhaps, some of the strange circumstances you might encounter now that you’ve opened your eyes.”

My hands crossed in front of my body. I squeezed two of my fingers with my other hand—my old tell. “Sure. I know. It’s none of my business.”

“It isn’t. And yet you asked. Are you really that curious about me?”

A weak smirk wavered at the edge of my mouth. “I drove the nurses crazy.”

After a moment of silence, Iset said, “The simplest answer is that I’ve lived with Jacky since 1058 BC, so we’ve been together for almost thirty-one hundred years. If you want anything more exact than that, remember to take into account the discrepancies between calendars.”

I couldn’t help laughing. “That’s amazing!”

“And, Emerra,” I could hear the teasing in her voice, “you’re not supposed to ask a woman her age.”

“Are you kidding? Old Ms. Elstein bragged about being ninety, and she’s got nothing on you.”

Iset turned and began climbing the huge sweep of the front stairs. “And how old are you?”

The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

I hesitated. “How long was I buried for?”

Now there’s a question you don’t get to ask every day.

“A week.”

“Oh.” I tried not to sound disappointed. “I’m almost twenty.”

That was my standard answer. When I was nineteen and one month, I was “almost twenty.” With a pang, I realized I would never make it to twenty. Not really.

Iset stopped and turned to me. “How close were you to your birthday?”

“I was born on October twenty-sixth.”

“I see.”

“Do we celebrate birthdays or deathdays here? Or is it the day when we were immortalized and-or raised from the dead?” I made a face. “Geez. This could get complicated.”

“What would you like to celebrate?”

“Is all of them an option?” I saw Iset’s shoulders shake with her silent laughter. “What? I like cake!”

“Come along, child.”

We continued climbing.

“Sure, you can call me that. I bet you could call anyone that.”

“I can and often do.” She raised a bandaged finger. “Except with Darius.”

“The count? Is he older than you?”

“Not at all. He was made immortal in 1918.”

At least the math was easy. “Almost a century?”

“He’s practically still a baby, but the man has his dignity, and I won’t be the one to rob him of it.”

“What about Igor?”

“Igor is…different. He’s younger than me, but he doesn’t really qualify as a child. Oh, dear. You’re proving my lie. Perhaps I only think of them all as children.”

“You could call Kappa a child.”

“I could. He really is a child. At least for his species.”

“How old is he?”

“My research indicates he’s around sixty.”

I choked. “He’s older than me?”

“And yet he retains that child-like manner. Also, he seems to like you.”

“What about the others?”

“I’m not sure how old Conrad is, but he came to us as an adult, and he’s been here for five years. Olivia, of course, is sixteen.”

I was surprised to find out my guess had been correct. The little witch was, in fact, a little witch. I had hoped there might be someone younger than me around, but my relief was spoiled by the fact Olivia knew a lot more than I did about the world we were in. It’s hard to play senpai when you’re a walking pile of ignorance.

“Why would it be obvious she’s sixteen?” I asked.

“That’s why she’s here. She’s Jacky’s apprentice.”

I nodded as though that might mean something to me and resolved to figure it out later.

We reached the second floor. Iset motioned to the hall on our left with a wave of her hand.

“My room, the guest rooms, and the shared bathroom. Olivia is tucked back there.” She pointed behind the stairs, then motioned to the hall going the opposite way. “This leads to the rest of the rooms and the back hall. The back stairs lead directly into the kitchen.”

“This place is so huge. How does Mr. Noctis afford it all?”

“He makes a killing in long term investments.”

She looked back at me. I couldn’t see her eyes, but I knew that’s what she was doing, and I knew she caught sight of my idiot grin.

“Are puns like that allowed around here?” I asked

“Puns like that are a vital part of our most important pastime.”

“What’s that?”

“Seeing how many of them go over Jacky’s skull.”

“Are you the reigning champion?”

“For several centuries and in five different languages.”

I gazed around the great landing. It’s wide windows went from two feet above the floor, to two feet below the top of the lofted ceiling. The side walls were decorated with beautiful art. The furniture was all tasteful, and the couches looked cozy.

“And he uses the money to keep up the house?” I said.

“Houses. We have more than one. Jacky likes to live well.”

“I can see that.”

As we were going down the hall, I stopped in front of a framed scrap of paper and pointed. Words had failed me, but Iset knew her duty as my guide.

“Picasso,” she said.

“Is it an original?”

“Oh, yes. Jacky paid for the framing, but the sketch was a gift.”

I marveled at it.

“Do you like art, Emerra?”

“When I get the chance,” I muttered, still staring.

“Do you draw?”

“Some. It was mostly grade school stuff. I wanted to take art in high school, but that didn’t work out.”

“You went to a public high school, didn’t you?”

I decided to simplify by saying yes. “At least, I did until I was a junior.”

“And then?”

“Then I got sick.”

Nonchalance. Suitable for all occasions and it goes with everything.

“Ah,” Iset said.

We walked on.

“Darius’s room is in the back of the hall—”

“Darius? Shouldn’t…shouldn’t he be—I don’t know—in a cellar or something?”

“If you’re ever bored, you should ask Darius to watch a few vampire movies with you. Or history movies. I’m afraid you won’t hear any dialog, but his indignation over their inaccuracies is very entertaining.”

I smiled. “I take it he doesn’t burn up in the sun?”

“No, but he is mostly nocturnal, so do try to be quiet during the earlier parts of the day. His room is soundproofed, but his hearing is excellent.” She motioned to her right. “That’s Conrad’s room, and this is your room”—she opened the door on her left as wide as it would go and swept her bandaged arm through the threshold—“for as long as you want to stay with us.”

I stepped inside and turned on the light.

The room was large enough, it not only contained a queen-sized bed, but a whole seating arrangement. There were two armchairs with a small side table tucked between them. Next to them was a desk and chair. Several windows were spaced along the outside wall.

The decor was simpler than I thought it would be, given the age of the house. There were lots of clean lines and muted colors. It was as if a designer had been told to create a modern room that wouldn’t ruin the Victorian vibe.

Full credit to the designer—he’d done a good job.

“If you want to bring in anything or get rid of anything, that won’t be a problem,” Iset said. “All you have to do is talk to me or…well, you’d best talk to me for now. Your attached bathroom and closet are through there. I’m afraid the closet is empty at the moment. I managed to talk Jacky out of attempting to buy you clothes.”

I stared around in wonder. “Why is he doing this?”

“He likes to think his taste in fashion is so superior to everyone else’s that they would naturally defer to him.”

“Why is he doing this—this! Not ‘why would he do that.’”

“I’m sorry, Emerra. I don’t understand.”

I gestured to the room. “Is he trying to bribe me or something?”

Iset’s head turned as if she was gazing around the place. It stopped once she was facing me.

“You look uncomfortable.”

“Good! I feel uncomfortable.”

“This is what our guest rooms look like. The only difference is that your bathroom is attached. Jacky…” Iset sighed. “Jacky isn’t trying to bribe you. Don’t misunderstand me—he wants you to stay, but he wants you to want to stay. Bribing you would defeat the purpose.”

“Jacky doesn’t even know me.”

Iset came toward me. For the barest moment, my mind flashed back to a million bad movies featuring mummies in gruesome wraps, groaning as they lurched toward their terrified victims. But then she put a hand on my shoulder.

“It’s true that he doesn’t really know you, but he has high hopes for you.”

“Because of my eyes.”

“For a lot of reasons. Too many to go into right now, and many that are not my place to mention. You’ll have to talk to him.”

Iset moved her hand and continued in a more business-like tone, “Olivia’s agreed to let you borrow a few outfits until we can get you your own wardrobe.”

“But what if I decide not to stay?”

“I assume you’ll still want some clothes.”

“I don’t like being given things,” I muttered.

“That can be a fair and honorable attitude. It can also be a protective one. But this time, I think it’s impractical. If it makes you feel better, assume that your clothes will be a payment for the services you’ll be rendering tomorrow.”

“Yeah, about that…”

She cocked her head to the side.

“A murder?”

Her voice suggested amusement: “Oh, Emerra. You don’t think we’d need your help for something as simple as a murder, do you? No. A murder is only the start of the problem.”

She turned and went back to the door. “I can show you the third floor and the attics later. They’re mostly empty. For tonight, you should get some sleep.”

I was still brooding over her previous comment, so it wasn’t until the door shut behind her that I processed her recommendation.

“Do I even sleep?” I yelled at the closed door.

It didn’t answer.