Frost told Darius the rest of the story while he was recovering in the Torr-run wing of the hospital.

As we had guessed, Aubert had played the real-or-fake game, and when the scroll was put into his hands, he sensed the magic, just like Drix had. He was smart enough to realize that meant there had been a mistake.

The reason the scroll was in such good condition wasn’t because it was fake; it was because it had a protection spell cast on it when it was created. The spell had faded over the years, but it had done its job.

Natalie Both, a mundane, couldn’t sense the magic. She could only report what she saw.

Aubert asked about the scroll, and when he found out that Wayde had the device that went along with it, he broke his first rule. He told Wayde and Frost about magic to convince them to help him translate the scroll. That started him down the long road that led to his neck being snapped by a wolfman employed by death.

When Wayde heard that the device required three human souls, he didn’t even wait to learn what that meant. He told Aubert and Frost that he was pulling the plug. Since it was his scroll and his device, there wasn’t much they could do.

It took some time, but Aubert convinced Frost that there was no harm in simply translating the scroll. If it turned out to be as bad as Wayde thought, they could walk away. Frost, who was already in love with the idea of being a magician and hated to leave the translation unfinished, agreed to help—because they didn’t have to hurt anyone or steal anything.

Frost would bring the papyrus, Aubert would use a scholar spell to copy the writing, and they would walk away with the copy.

“Then why didn’t Drix sense any magic on the copy?” I asked.

“The scholar spell is an immediate spell that moves the ink,” Darius explained. “It isn’t cast on the ink or the scroll. It’s traces would have faded almost immediately.”

Wayde came home early to meet Drix and found Frost and Aubert there. After Aubert shot him, the sorcerer picked up the device and told Frost to help him seal the soul. Joel must have thought there wasn’t a reason to hold back at that point, and Frost wasn’t brave enough to say no to a man with a gun. When they left, they took the device and the real scroll, leaving behind the copy.

“Aubert told Frost that the Torr didn’t know about the device,” Darius said, “so even if we read the scroll, we wouldn’t know it had been there.”

I sighed and fingered the bandage on the side of my head. The ice whip had left the most lasting damage, and even that would heal with only a scar.

Darius and Conrad were almost back to full health, despite the beating they took. Both of them had some impressive regeneration powers.

In a world full of cool supernatural abilities, like sleep-deprivation powers, ultra-healing, and super strength, I had to wonder why I got stuck with “the ability to have nightmares.”

The only reason the two of them weren’t completely healed was because of the silver-coated dagger. It had been a major problem—until Darius decided that burning his hand was better than getting sliced or stabbed by it. He took the first chance he could to pick it up and throw it out the nearest window.

The nearest window had been at the end of the hall. I heard the clean-up unit was still looking for the dagger and had expanded their search to four hundred yards away from the building.

Since Conrad’s arm was still bothering him, I had volunteered to help him rake the yard.

Kappa was playing nearby in a specially designated pile of leaves that he was allowed to wreck however he wanted. At the moment, he was hiding in them because the wolfman was too close.

Conrad was sitting on the stone wall, taking a break.

“How are your nightmares?” he asked.

I shrugged and kept raking.

“That’s not an answer.”

“Well, you’re going to have to be more specific,” I said. “Which nightmare?”

“You’re having other nightmares now?”

“Yup. It’s kind of hard to say if it’s an improvement.”

“They’re not…it’s not Aubert’s death, is it?”

“No. It’s me drowning.”

“That sounds awful.”

I shrugged.

He said, “You look better, Emerra. More rested.”

I stopped to lean on the rake. “I am. I have a greater variety of nightmares now, but I only have one or two a night. It’s not every time I fall asleep.”

“That sounds like an improvement to me.”

A tired smirk appeared on my face. “Yeah. I guess I’ll take what I can get.” I went back to raking.

“I heard the defense called you yesterday to ask if you’d be a witness.”

I stopped again. “Are they allowed to do that? I mean, I’m already a witness for the prosecution.”

“They are in the Torr courts. I don’t know about normal courts.”

I went to run my hand over the bandage on my scalp, but I stopped myself. It’d become a habit if I wasn’t careful.

“Are you going to do it?” Conrad asked.

“Do what?”

“Are you going to testify on Frost’s behalf?”

“Yes.” I gathered up the last of the leaves into the pile.

“You don’t have to, you know. Not in this case.”

“I know. Darius already talked to me about it. But I want to speak up for him. I’m the only one who can. Most of the time, all you can do is tell your story and hope the jury believes you, but I can actually tell them what Frost was thinking and feeling. That’s pretty special.”

“It is.”

I whistled. “Come on, Kappa. Time to be helpful.”

Two big, black eyes surfaced in the leaves.

“It’s the last bag,” I said. “Nice and small.”

The leaf pile shook its head.

“I’ll help,” Conrad said.

“No,” I waved him back. “Don’t be stupid. You saved my life. It’s not like I can’t handle a bunch of dead leaves.”

“That reminds me, next time you’re running for your life, could you do me a favor and run outside. I can track a scent inside a building, but it’s harder to guess where it’s going. And just because I heal fast, that doesn’t mean I like jumping through windows.”

I grinned as I opened the leaf bag. “I’ll try to remember that.”

“What are you going to do about the bòid?”

Ah, yes. The great oath of secrecy.

“Oh, I’m invoking it,” I said. “Guaranteed. I heard that Mr. Ashworth is going to be in the audience, and I enjoy tweaking his nose.”

“That sounds like a noble reason.”

“And when I do, they all have to leave?”

“The only people who stay are the judge, the main counsels, the four jurymen, and anyone you’ve given special dispensation.”

“So you could stay?”

“If you want.”

“Well, I mean, you already know about my powers, so there’d be no reason to kick you out.” I took a second to shove in some more leaves. “It’s a good rule. I’m glad they have it.”

“We have to have something like that in our community. There’s lots of people who can pass as normal that don’t want their powers known. But it does cause some problems.”

I liked how he said our community, but I didn’t bother mentioning it.

“What kind of problems?” I asked.

“It’s not always easy to tell where powers begin and end. I heard that you were causing some issues.”

I stopped. “Me?”

“The prosecutor and Darius were debating whether or not your guess that it was Aubert would fall under clairvoyance.”

I shook my head and finished swiping in the last of the leaves. One escaped. I tossed it to the side.

“That had nothing to do with whatever powers people think I have,” I said.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I’m sure.”

“Then how did you know?”

I tied off the bag, threw it into the pile with the others, and went to join Conrad on the wall. I had to climb a bit so I could sit up there beside him.

“No one wants to be only tolerated,” I said. “I know that. I know how desperate that can make you. Drix had enough talent that she could become Uhler’s apprentice. Aubert was only tolerated because he was smart.”

When Conrad didn’t answer, I glanced over. He was looking at me with those soft, pale yellow eyes of his. I didn’t like how they were looking right through me, so I decided to change the subject.

“It’s Halloween today.” I kicked the heels of my chucks against the wall. “What kind of candy do we have?”

“We don’t get trick-or-treaters out here.”

“But we’ve got a creepy Victorian mansion owned by a rich dude! It’s the perfect place to go trick-or-treating!”

“The kids probably figure they can get more candy if they stay in town and knock on more doors.”

Yeah. That was fair. When it came to sugar, kids could calculate better than a member of Mensa.

“Then what are we going to do for Halloween?” I asked.

“We don’t usually do anything.”

“What! Why not?”

The wolfman gave me a look.

I pointed at him. “No. That’s not an excuse this time. This is our holiday. Think about it! Iset makes the perfect mummy. Olivia already has a full witch costume. Darius—” An image popped into my head. I laughed. “We’ll have to buy Darius one of those cheap capes with red lining.”

“And fake fangs?”

“Definitely fake fangs. Do you think he’d do a Transylvanian accent?”

“Not even if you paid him.”

“You could go as a—”

“Wolfman?”

“I was going to say lumberjack.”

“None of my flannel shirts are plaid.”

“We’ll think of something.”

“And what will you go as? A zombie?”

My world went cold. A quiet gasp rushed into my chest.

“Oh, geez,” I breathed.

“Mera?” Conrad sounded worried.

The words came out as a whispered thread: “That’s right. That’s exactly what I am.”

“Mera, I didn’t mean—”

“I’m a zombie, Conrad! I’m a freaking zombie.”

I laughed so hard Conrad had to put a hand on my back to stop me from falling off the wall.

“Braaaaaaiiiiiiiins,” I moaned. “Oh! Dude! I already have some ripped jeans. Do you think Mrs. Park can bring me some green face paint?” I put a hand on my bald head. “I’ll need a lot of it.”

“My arm still hurts,” Conrad said. “If I buy you a bag of candy, can we stay in and watch The Power Puff Girls?”

It said a lot that he was willing to make that deal. Conrad didn’t like The Power Puff Girls as much as he liked One Punch Man.

“Ohhh, fine,” I said. “But only because you saved my life.” I pointed at him. “Next year, wolf-boy.”

“We’ll see, zombie-girl.”

There was an amused smile on his dark lips. It was encouraging enough, I decided to put all my pride on the line and ask for the world’s dumbest favor.

I stared at the stray leaves still littering the grounds. “Conrad, do you have a junk T-shirt that you’re thinking of throwing away?”

His brows pulled down.

I blathered on, “You know, that one shirt you never wear, and you always think about getting rid of it, but then you’re too lazy?”

“Why?”

“I was wondering if I could…” I weighed the words—borrow? have? Neither sounded good. “I could use a shirt.”

“Mera, don’t you think it’d be a little big?”

“That’s kind of the point. I need it for my pajamas.”

“I thought you already got some clothes.” He hopped down from the wall, picked up the rake with his good arm, and started toward the gardener’s shed.

I followed. “Ah-ha! So you’ve noticed I’m not wearing the latest in gothic goth today.” I pulled out my bright green shirt to get a better look at it. “Does it look good?”

“It suits you more.”

“Good enough.” It wasn’t much of a compliment, but I figured that was about all a T-shirt could earn. “I ordered a pair of those comfy pajama pants that come with a shirt, but the shirt they sent fits!”

“And that’s a bad thing?”

“Everybody knows that the most comfortable pajama shirt has to be a decade old and at least two sizes too big.”

“You think I’m two sizes bigger than you?”

“Fine. Seven. Look, everyone has a shirt they never wear. Now even I have a shirt I don’t wear. Hey! We can trade!”

There was a chuff of laughter. “And what would I do with one of your shirts?”

“I don’t know. But it’s got a really cute heart-dot pattern!”

He stepped inside the shed long enough to put the rake away, then came back out. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll help you out, but I’m a little confused why you came to me.”

We set off for the house.

“Seriously?” I said. “I mean, Darius only wears suits, I’m not sure if Jacky’s clothes are even real, Iset looks great in her bandages, but they’re not my style, Kappa runs around naked all the time, I don’t know if Igor wears T-shirts under his sweaters, and Olivia’s my size. And I’m getting sick of black. Did I miss anyone?”

“Why don’t you buy a shirt?”

I raised a finger. “A—it would lack the well-aged factor that defines true T-shirt comfort.” I raised another finger. “B—I’d have to order it online.” I dropped my hand. “It’s one thing to run down to Goodwill and buy a five dollar shirt. It’s another to pay that much in shipping.”

“That makes sense. Come on. Let’s get you taken care of.”

I followed him up the back stairs and over to his room. When he went inside, I hesitated at the door.

A second later, he leaned back to say, “You can come in, Mera.”

I felt the soft touch of awe that comes from invading previously forbidden territory. Behold! The private room!

I was glad Conrad invited me in. I was curious what it looked like.

Turns out, wolfmen are pretty boring when it comes to decorating their rooms. He was neat too. If it hadn’t been for his smell lingering in the air, I wouldn’t have been able to tell it apart from the guest rooms. He’d even made the bed. I wasn’t sure that was normal.

I stood in front of a painting and called out, “I take it this art was all here when you got here?”

His answer came from the walk-in closet. “Yeah. But I don’t mind. It fits the room.”

“How long have you lived here?” I wandered over to the bookshelf beside his desk. Even the books looked like they belonged to the house.

“Five years.”

Five years, and not a single personal item. For some reason, I felt sad.

When I walked over to the bed, I saw there were two pillows. From the amount of fur clinging to each, I was able to guess which was his favorite.

I smiled.

At least he’d left some evidence he lived here.

He came back in the room and tossed me a shirt. “Here.”

I held it up, and my smile turned into a grin. The shirt was plain blue-gray, and it was worn enough, it looked like it had once done a tour as his favorite. It was also huge.

“It’s perfect,” I said.

“I promise it’s clean, but it’s going to have my scent for a while.” He shrugged. “Not much I can do about that.”

“I’ll deal with it. Thank you, Conrad. You’re a lifesaver.” I bounced off toward the door, loot in hand, but stopped before I left. “Hey! What’s your favorite animal?”

“What?”

“Favorite animal!”

“I don’t…have one? Who has a favorite animal?”

“Oh, please! I have, like, a hundred.”

“I’m not sure it can be your ‘favorite’ if there’s more than one.”

“Llamas, sloths, rabbits—oh! Those cute little red pandas—dogs, squirrels, kittens.” I paused, then added, with a pinch of emphasis, “Wolves.”

Conrad rolled his eyes. “Why don’t you pick one for me.”

“An octopus.”

“Not an octopus.”

“An otter?”

“That’ll do. That’s my favorite animal.”

“An otter?”

“Sure. They’re cute.”

“Ohhkaay.”

“I feel like you’re questioning my sincerity.”

I laughed and opened the door. “I’m going to go put this away. Thanks again, Conrad.”