As we drove into the city, Jacky gave me a brief explanation of the Torr.

Many centuries ago, a bunch of interfering old men in what is now Britain decided that people with magic needed to be held accountable for any shenanigans they might get up to, but they wisely decided that people without magic might be too zealous in the execution of that duty, so they created a council with a representative from each of the four main branches of magic: sorcery, alchemy, witchcraft, and thrismageia.

“Thris-what-eia?” I said.

“Religious magic.”

“As in?”

“Any faith-based magic.”

“Like shamans and witchdoctors?”

“Yes.”

“And they work side by side with…?”

“In this country, it’s usually a priest, although our local Torr also has a rabbi who acts as an adviser and assistant.”

“Huh. Do they get along?”

“Most of the time. It helps that we don’t debate dogma when we’re in a meeting.”

The original representatives only set down a few basic rules, but they enforced them ruthlessly. To this day, Torrs try to get by with as few rules as possible—presumably because it makes it so much easier to crush the fools who don’t want to obey. Fewer rules, fewer fools.

“And it worked?” I asked.

“It worked well enough magicians across the world decided to adopt it. There’s a Torr in every country. Wherever there’s a higher concentration of magicians, we break the area into separate territories.”

“I’m kind of surprised that all those magicians are willing to follow the rules of only four people—it is people now, right? Not a bunch of old men?”

“It was never a patriarchal order. Most witches are female. Since the Torr interferes as little as possible, they’re tolerated fairly well. Magic is power. People with power value their freedom, but even the most powerful recognize the need for order.”

Jacky turned the car. We swooped into an underground parking lot.

He continued, “And it’s five people. A traditional Torr has five members.”

“Who’s the fifth person?”

“I am.”

The florescent lights overhead flashed as we drove down the aisle.

“But what about the Torr in other countries?” I said. “Who’s their fifth person?”

Jacky’s skull twitched toward me, then he returned his attention to navigating the parking lot. “Me.”

I gave that fact a few seconds to settle into my brain. My brain requested additional verification.

“Wait. You’re a member of every single Torr on this planet?”

“Yes.”

“So it’s sorcerers, witches, alchemists, religious magicians—”

“When referring to the faith-based magicians in general, we call them thrismages.”

“Thrismages…and death?”

“Yes.”

“That’s a lot of meetings.”

“I’m not required to attend them all, but the Torrs know they can call me if they need me.”

“And what do you represent?”

“The last resort.”

Yeah. That sounded about right.

We parked the car and headed into the building. The elevator was fancy enough I could brace myself for the gilding I would see when the doors opened.

There was gold on all the banisters, laced between the tiles, and worked into the decorations at the top of all the columns. The walls and columns were made of white marble. The thick rugs laid over the floor were a rich teal color.

I didn’t have a lot of experience with luxury, so the only thing I could compare the decor to was a hotel. A super-duper fancy one. But there weren’t enough floors for it to be a real hotel, so it was probably a club of some kind.

I followed Jacky up to the front desk (a massive piece of dark wood with carved leaves). The man behind the desk knew him.

“Good evening, Mr. Noctis.”

“Good evening, Lane. Are the others already here?”

“Most of them, sir. Would you like any refreshments brought up?”

“No, but thank you.”

“Yes, sir.” Lane passed him a key.

It was then that Lane noticed me. He didn’t say anything, but the way he looked at me made me think they didn’t get many visitors. Either that, or I looked more goth-punk than I gave myself credit for.

Jacky noticed Lane’s gaze.

“Ah, yes. Emerra, this is Lane Ortiz. Lane, this is Emerra Cole. You’ll need to know who she is.”

We were too far away to shake, so I waved.

Lane nodded to me, but said to Jacky, “Why, sir?”

“Because she’s with me.”

Jacky headed toward the stairs. I had to run a few steps until I could catch up with him.

“Jacky,” I said, “what do you want me to do?”

“We’re here to inform the torrmen of the situation and secure their help in finding out what happened to Wayde’s soul. The chance of them knowing anything is remote, but I want you to keep your eyes open. Watch for their reactions. Let me know if you notice anything.”

“Anything out of the ordinary?”

“Anything at all. I can’t watch everywhere at once.”

“And if I don’t notice anything?”

“Then you don’t.”

“Can I…I don’t know—Can I say anything? Am I allowed to talk?”

“Yes. Although…” He stopped and turned to me. “If you have any questions, you may want to save them until the end. Then you can ask me.”

“Are questions bad?”

“No, but you have a lot of them, and I detest long meetings.”

We resumed walking.

When we reached the bottom of the stairs, a man called out, “Jacky!”

We turned.

An older man jogged toward us. Judging by the salt and pepper color of his hair and the lines around his eyes, he had to be at least fifty, but his movements seemed spry, despite the fact his body was built like a barrel. At first I thought he wore all black, but then I saw a bit of white at his throat, almost hidden by his generous beard. What I knew about Christianity and Catholicism wouldn’t be enough to fill a one-page, third-grade report, but even I knew that was a clerical collar.

“Good evening, Father Thorburn,” Jacky said.

“I don’t suppose you’ll tell me what this meeting is about?” Thorburn said.

“When we’re in the room.”

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“Always so paranoid.” Mid head shake, Father Thorburn caught sight of me. “Hello. Who do we have here?” When he smiled, all the lines around his eyes deepened and bent up. He put out his hand. “I’m Father Thorburn. Are you the reason we’re meeting tonight?”

I smiled as I took his hand. “I hope not. I’m Emerra Cole. I’m just a spectator.”

“A…spectator?”

“I brought her,” Jacky said.

Behold! The magic answer that silences all questions! Thorburn’s mouth snapped shut and the puzzled expression left his face. Even if he was still curious, it didn’t look like he would say anything.

Jacky started up the stairs. “The others are waiting.”

“So they are,” Thorburn said.

We climbed after the skeleton.

“Forgive me for asking,” the priest said in a conspiratorial whisper, “but are you human?”

“As far as I know.”

“Ah. Thank you. One never knows with Jacky. I hope you’re not offended.”

“Believe me, Father, I get it.”

“Before you ask, I’m as human as they come.”

“You’re the religious-mage representative, aren’t you?”

“I’m surprised you can tell! I thought I left my halo at home.”

“What can I say? You have a holy look about you.”

From in front of us, Jacky said, “I suspect it was the collar.”

“Thank you, Jacky,” Thorburn said. “I never would have guessed.” He winked at me.

We chatted all the way up the stairs and down the long hall, but Thorburn broke off in the middle of his own sentence to hail a woman who was standing near a set of double doors. “Ho! Dafna!”

She put her phone in her pocket and looked up.

Thorburn said to me, “Come on, let me introduce you.”

He took my elbow and pulled me forward.

As we got closer, he said to me, “This lovely lady is my better half.”

His better half scowled at him. “Father, you have to stop doing that. You make it sound like we’re married.”

“We’re not?”

She turned to me. “He’s not allowed to be married, but he’s allowed to make jokes.”

As we shook, I looked her over. She was thin with chin length hair that rolled from her head in loose, dark curls. There were fewer laugh lines around her eyes, but I had seen them crinkle up when she forced the scowl.

She only glanced at my lack of hair, then looked me in the eyes.

Thorburn said, “This is Emerra—I’m sorry, I’ve forgotten your last name.”

“Cole,” I supplied.

“Emerra Cole. She’s with Jacky.”

The woman raised an eyebrow and said in a quiet voice, “I don’t think Owen needs to know that.”

Thorburn went on without seeming to hear, “Emerra, this is Rabbi Dafna Adams.”

Okay. A rabbi. I knew even less about them.

“Do I call you Rabbi Adams?” I asked.

“If you like. If you don’t like, I can be Rabbi Dafna, Dafna, or, if you’re feeling up for a little Yiddish, Reb.” She raised her voice. “I’m not so obsessed with titles I’ve forgotten my first name.”

Father Thorburn scratched his beard. “I think they took mine away when they ordained me. Is everyone else here?”

“They’re inside.”

“Father,” Jacky said, “I know that you’re excited to introduce Emerra, but do you think you can wait until after the meeting? Reynell said she didn’t have time to spare.”

“If I must. If they’ll let you get away with that.”

“I think I can manage them.”

Jacky opened both doors at once and strode into the room. The three of us followed.

“Good,” Jacky announced as he entered. “Since we’ve all gathered, this won’t have to take long. I appreciate the fact you came.”

The room had a large round table. Three people were already seated there.

Closest to the door was a clean-shaven, middle aged man. He was younger than Thorburn, but he had the same gray-white in his hair. He wore glasses over his down-turned eyes, and he gazed at me curiously.

Beside him was a woman who looked no older than me. Her dark blond hair was pulled away from her face, making it’s angles look more severe. She glanced at me, then turned her attention to Jacky. She was the only one in casual clothes.

At the back of the table was a man who looked like he was in his late twenties. He wore a suit and tie—which might sound conservative, but it wasn’t. The colors were modern, fashionable, and he looked great in them. He was so handsome, a small shock ran through my system when I saw him. My face burned as his eyes followed me while I crossed the room. He didn’t look away until Jacky spoke.

“If you’re ready,” Jacky said, “I’ll lock the doors.”

The torrmen all looked at each other. There was a general nodding of heads as Dafna and Thorburn sat down next to each other. I tried to find a place in the back of the room where I could see as much as possible.

When Jacky locked the door, I thought I saw a flash of blue light shine out from the keyhole. Noctis put the key in his pocket and turned around.

“I know you’re all curious, so I won’t waste time. A soul is missing.”

There it was—the cue I’d been waiting for. I looked from face to face, hoping my supernatural eyes might kick into gear and let me see the guilt pouring out from them.

But that didn’t happen. Every last face stalled with no emotion at all. Not one of them knew how to react. Then slowly, as if each expression was being pressed into stiff clay, their faces took on various measures of concern, confusion, and frustration.

“Wha—what do you mean?” the man with glasses said.

“A man was murdered, but the soul didn’t cross over—” Jacky started.

“You’re talking about a ghost?” Thorburn asked.

“No, it wasn’t caught. It’s gone, and I need to find out what happened to it.”

Suit and Tie leaned forward and put his arms on the table. “Could this be the work of an infernal?”

“I’m already looking into that, but I wanted to talk to you about the possibility of human involvement.”

It was subtle, but the attention of everyone in the room drifted to the blond woman sitting at the table.

Or maybe it wasn’t very subtle. She certainly noticed.

She rolled her eyes, and when she spoke, her voice was fast and bold. “Right. It’s always the alchemists. What would we want a soul for?”

Suit and Tie flipped his hand palm up as a shrug. “A new form of energy?”

“Please don’t joke about that,” Dafna said.

“I wasn’t joking.”

“Then don’t give her ideas,” Thorburn said. It’s possible he was joking, but no one laughed.

The young woman said, “Harnessing spiritual essence is only a theory.”

“Have you tried it?” the man with glasses asked.

“Not me personally.” She hesitated, then announced, “And the ones who might be experimenting wouldn’t use human souls.”

“Do you know that for sure?” Suit and Tie said.

The young woman glared at him.

“Reynell,” Jacky said.

When the young woman looked up at Noctis, her sour expression vanished.

He continued, “Either someone has stolen something immeasurably precious, or they’ve ended something meant to be eternal. There are no higher crimes I can think of. Do you know for certain?”

She lowered her eyes. “No.”

“Can you look into it for me?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll need your report as soon as possible.”

Reynell nodded.

“Do you know who to call?” Suit and Tie asked.

“I know.” Reynell sounded annoyed.

Suit and Tie shrugged.

“Uhler?” Jacky said.

The man with the glasses looked up.

Jacky went on, “Could this have been a witch?”

Uhler squirmed in his seat. “Is the magic possible? I suppose. The good news is that there are only a few witches with enough power to pull off something like that.”

“A few in our area?” Dafna asked.

Uhler smiled. “Oh, no. There’s only a few in the world.”

“What if they worked together?” Suit and Tie asked.

“Witches don’t normally do that.”

I was so busy listening to the conversation, it wasn’t until that moment that I realized I had made a few bad assumptions.

The young woman was the alchemist.

The other woman was a rabbi.

I was out of women.

That round-faced man in a sports coat was, in fact, a witch.

There was no reason he couldn’t be. Olivia had said witches were people born with the ability to produce their own magic. Jacky had only said most witches were female.

That meant Suit and Tie was the sorcerer.

“Could they work together?” Jacky asked.

Uhler nudged his glasses even though they were already at the top of his nose. “It decreases the chance of the spell working, but if they were in tune enough, it’s possible. But I’m a bit like Klara.” He motioned to the alchemist. “I can’t think why a witch would want a soul. We can’t use them.”

“I’ll need you to ask around.”

“I will.”

Jacky turned to Suit and Tie. “Mr. Ashworth?”

The sorcerer pulled his arms from the table, interlaced his fingers, and rested them in his lap. “What kind of magic are we talking about here? The soul is gone, but it doesn’t sound like you know if it was stolen or destroyed.”

“For either of those things to occur, it would have required magic.”

“True.” Ashworth sat up straight in his chair. “I know that we have a few spells that could seal a soul. I’m less certain about destroying one. Either way, the spells would be rare and highly controlled. Even our masters would have to research them and call in a few other masters to help set it up.”

“Do you know who to talk to?” Jacky asked.

Ashworth smiled. “I have the top three schools on speed-dial. All the rest are in my contact list. Don’t worry, Noctis. If the answer’s in my corner, I’ll find it.”

“Good.” Jacky turned. “Father Thorburn.”

For the first time since I’d met him, Thorburn wasn’t smiling. “I know what you’re thinking.”

“Do you?”

“But it’s unthinkable.”

“I understand that you’re no longer the only exorcist on the continent. Two more have been found.”

“They have. That brings our grand total up to three. We know each other personally. Sorrel won’t even do the work anymore.” He motioned to Dafna. “There’s nothing in her craft that could do something like that, so you’re looking at either me or Jones.”

“Sorrel still has the power, and there may be others. Of all of the magical branches, yours is the one that deals most often with souls.”

“Disrupting the course of a human soul isn’t something we would do.”

“People have acted against their professed creeds before, Father.”

Dafna spoke up: “Were they thrismages?”

“One or two.”

“What happened to their magic?”

Jacky paused, then said, “Ah.” He turned his eye sockets to Thorburn. “You understand, I will still have to ask you to make inquiries.”

“Believe me, I will.”

Reynell asked, “What did happen to their magic?”

“It left them,” Jacky said. He raised his skull and spoke to the whole room: “Have there been any rumors about someone experimenting?”

“Experimenting with stealing a soul?” Ashworth said. “Not likely. Even if you had a good reason for doing that kind of magic, I can’t imagine you’d tell anyone. But to do it for kicks? That would take a perverse personality.”

“Why would it have to be for fun?” I asked.

Oops.

The whole room turned to look at me.

Ashworth smiled. It had looked charming enough when he was aiming it at Jacky. When he aimed it at me, I felt my heart stutter. “Noctis always rushes us into things. We didn’t get a chance to meet you.”

“Emerra Cole.”

Thank god, I could at least manage my name.

“Emerra, do you know much about magic?”

I shook my head while wondering if I was about to be skewered for my ignorance, but Ashworth went on, as kind as anything.

“Some magicians have the power to manipulate magic from the spiritual realm, but doing anything with spiritual matter itself is difficult. As Miss Reynell said, using it is only a theory. Storing it is about all we can do, and most of us can’t do it for long. If it serves no practical purpose, then the only reason I can think of for stealing a soul would be for fun.”

“Not revenge?”

They were staring at me again.

I shrugged with my whole body to hide the fact I was trembling. “I mean, I don’t know about you guys, but now that I know I have a soul, I feel kind of protective of it. I wouldn’t want someone stealing it ‘cause—what would happen to me? And I really wouldn’t want an enemy to have it.”

My voice had grown weaker as I blathered on. When I finished the last sentence, I shut my mouth. Oh, well. The idea was out there. Good enough.

Ashworth’s eyes widened. He turned to Jacky.

“If it was stolen for a personal reason, that could give us some direction. Do we know the victim?”

“I doubt it,” Jacky said. “He was a professor at a local college. He wasn’t a magician.”

“A professor?” Thorburn said. His voice was sharp.

“What was his name?” Uhler asked.

“Professor Trevon Wayde,” Jacky said. “He was an anthropologist.”

I didn’t need supernatural eyes. A blind man would have seen the way Ashworth, Uhler, and Thorburn all looked at each other.