“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—quite rightly—pointed 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—he always did—but 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”—I struggled to think of how to phrase my question—“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—you get flames—but 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—the 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.”

Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

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—where did you say they were from? Albion?—but ‘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—knowing my fortune—I’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—don’t laugh—is 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—I 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—”

“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.