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.”

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“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—but 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—they 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.