The next morning, I received a letter from Cordus. I could tell from the initialing that it had been typed by a secretary for his signature. It informed me that I was to consider myself a member of his household until further notice. I was not allowed to leave the premises without permission. I was being given that day to wrap up my pre-existing affairs. My wages would be $32,000 per annum, from which my monthly room and board of $2,000 would be deducted. My household membership came with a credit card and a fancy cell phone, which were attached to the letter in a padded envelope. The card was for pre-approved work expenses only. A list of recommended clothing items was also attached — mostly things I’d put in the “business casual” category, though I noticed with a chill that black undergarments were included.

Cordus had added a hand-written note at the bottom: he would be conducting my formal training, and it would begin the following morning. Gwen would be in touch with me about the specifics of my schedule.

I put down the letter and its attachments and just sat there. I’d kept repeating to myself that I had to confront my new reality. But now that reality had been given paper form and slipped under my door, and it clearly had no room for any part of who I’d been — not my house, my job, my family, my friends, or even my existing wardrobe.

I resented it profoundly.

Also, it scared me.

I sat there, expecting the thought of my future to trigger a panic attack, but it didn’t. It occurred to me that I hadn’t had one in a while. Maybe Graham had been right, and I didn’t have true panic disorder after all.

That’s a pretty big silver lining. I might be losing a lot, but that’s a huge gain.

It was hard to think positively, though. The losses were too big and too new.

Sighing, I picked the letter back up, wondering how much I could get done in a day. I turned it over and jotted down a to-do list that started with “quit job” and ended with “black panties.”

If I knocked enough things off the list this morning, maybe I could go shopping. The letter said a percentage of my salary could be advanced if I needed funds for clothes or other essentials. I thought of the $1,200 I’d been carrying around in my wallet for the last week. If I spent it carefully, hopefully it would be enough. I didn’t want to ask Cordus for an advance. He might decide to treat it as a request for a raise.

Okay, top of the list. I sat there for a while thinking about various lies I could tell the people back in Dorf, especially Ben and Dr. Nielsen. It was hard to come up with something that sounded even vaguely reasonable. In the end, I decided to keep it as simple as possible — I was very upset about having been attacked in my own home and had decided to leave Dorf for a while until I got over the experience. I didn’t know where I was going to go, and I’d rather not have people contact me.

Given my well known mental illness, an extreme reaction like that might seem plausible, at least to some people. I went over the story several times in my head, then decided to let it sit for a bit, while I did other things.

Cordus’s letter had included a mailing address I could use — a post-office box. I used the cell phone to file a mail-forwarding order online. Then I stopped my home phone service and changed the mailing address for my gas-and-electric bill.

I called the Ohio State Highway Patrol and reported my car stolen. I got a call back twenty minutes later: my car had already been found. Maybe Williams hadn’t bothered with a barrier. I thanked the trooper and told her I wouldn’t be reclaiming the car. She asked why I hadn’t reported the theft earlier. I could tell she thought something fishy was going on. I just played dumb. In the end she told me they’d keep the car for ninety days, then donate it to a program that provided job training for at-risk youth.

So much for my mother’s last gift to me.

I went back over my story. It still seemed like the best thing I could come up with, so I called Suzanne and tried it out on her. Not surprisingly, she was brimming with questions, but I just kept repeating the party line — I’d be away for a while, I wasn’t sure where or for how long, I’d prefer not to be contacted unless it was an emergency. I gave her my cell number and asked her to turn my thermostat down and keep an eye on my house.

Then I remembered the mouse. How could I have forgotten? Poor little guy. I thought quickly about just asking Suzanne to let him go in the backyard, but there were so many cats running loose in the neighborhood. Instead I asked her to hire a trustworthy kid to feed and water him and clean his cage. I told her I’d send her some money to cover it.

After she agreed, we said our goodbyes, and I hung up. I took a deep breath. That had been relatively easy.

Calling Dr. Nielsen was a lot harder. He was intensely worried about me and quite unwilling to let me “just disappear following a traumatic experience,” as he put it. I stuck to my guns but had the feeling he’d be calling the police when we hung up. Well, that would come to nothing — I was pretty sure the Dorf PD had written me off.

The next call was Ben. That conversation was awful. He was worried about me, yes, but he was even more worried about his family. How could I just disappear, right when he and the girls needed me most? Sticking to the party line didn’t do any good. It just infuriated him. It was horrible. In the end, he hung up on me in disgust.

After about fifteen minutes, the cell phone rang. The caller ID showed Ben’s number, but when I answered, it was my eldest niece, Tiffany. Jesus, it was really my day for punishment.

“Aunt Beth?”

She spoke in a low, muffled voice, as though she was crouching in a corner and whispering into the phone.

“Hi, sweetie. How’re you doing?”

She ignored my question. “Ghosteater said you could find Mom. Did you?”

You’d think, after the last two weeks, I’d have stopped getting caught by surprise. Unfortunately not. I sat there holding the phone, wondering what on earth to say. Just as I was about to answer, Graham’s and Kara’s warnings about the rules came back to me. I shut my mouth and thought some more.

“Beth?” Tiffany whispered, sounding desperate.

I decided I had to take a hard line. Tiff was twelve and had a good head. She could take it.

“Who else is going to find out what I tell you, Tiff?”

“I won’t tell anyone except Ghosteater.”

“Not Madisyn?”

Tiff paused. When she spoke, she sounded sad. “No. She’s not old enough to keep the secret. It’s started too young for her.”

That’s a good thing, I thought to myself. If I understood what I’d been told, it meant she had very little strength. If Cordus got a hold of her, she’d get one of those low-paid but safe household positions.

“Are Jazzy and Lia like you and Madisyn?”

“Not yet. It only started for me last year, though.”

She’d have been eleven. I wondered where that put her, strengthwise.

“Tiff, do you know how serious the rule is about keeping the secret?”

“Mom said I could never tell anyone about anything special I could do.”

“Did she tell you that there are people who will come and kill you if you do tell anyone? Anyone at all, even your Dad?”

From the silence on the other end, I guessed Justine hadn’t been that explicit. Maybe she didn’t know it herself. She seemed pretty out of it.

“I understand,” Tiff finally said in a shaky voice.

“Okay. The good news is that I did find your mother. She’s not hurt, and she’s staying someplace I think is safe for her. The bad news is that she’s not going to be able to come home right now, and there’s no way you can visit her or speak to her.”

“Why?”

“Honey, that’s in the can’t-talk-about-it category. I’m sorry.”

“Are you with her?”

“I’m staying at the same place she is. I’ll try to see her as often as I can.” I paused. “I’m sorry I can’t give you better news. You know, I didn’t find out about the special stuff until just the last couple weeks. It’s all new to me, and I don’t understand a lot of it. I don’t know what I can do for your Mom, but I’ll try my best to help her and keep her safe.”

Tiffany took that in. Finally she said, “Okay,” in a small voice. She sniffled, then cleared her throat. “Can I call you?”

“Absolutely. If I don’t answer when you call, leave a message telling me when I should call you back and at what number, okay?”

“Okay,” she said, sounding marginally better. “I love you, Aunt Beth. I want you to come home.”

“Oh, sweetie, I love you too, so much. I hope I’ll be able to come home soon.”

There was a big sniffle, then, “Bye.”

I set down the phone.

Damn.

I took a long, hot shower, trying to rinse away the aftertaste of having lied to and disappointed everyone I cared about.

When I was done, I put on the same clothes I’d been wearing when Williams, Kara, and Callie grabbed me at the mall, days back. The house staff had been laundering them each night, but I was getting pretty tired of them.

I opened my phone’s address book. It was programmed with numbers for all the Nolanders I knew so far, and quite a few I hadn’t met yet. I called Gwen and told her I’d like to use the afternoon to find some of the clothes on my list. She said she’d check with Cordus, and that if it was all right with him, someone would take me shopping. Half an hour later, Kara and I were on our way in a generic black sedan.

Not surprisingly, the area turned out to have a variety of shopping options. Despite Kara’s objections, I started at Kohl’s.

“There’s no reason to pay a lot for bras and panties,” I said as we rooted through the lingerie section. “I don’t have that much to spend, and there’s a lot on this list.”

“Yeah, but …” Kara paused awkwardly, a black bra in each hand.

“What?”

“The lingerie is the most important stuff.”

I lowered my voice to a hiss. “Lord Cordus is never going to see it.”

“He will, Beth. I’m sorry, but it’s going to happen. There’s nothing you can do about it.”

She turned away before wiping quickly at her eyes.

I felt cold inside and tried not to think of Tiffany and Madisyn. I waited until I could speak firmly.

“Then look for the cheapest stuff. A rapist doesn’t deserve to see a $13.99 bra.”

Kara laughed weakly. “You’re a braver woman than I am. Here’re some on sale, two for nine bucks.”

“Perfect.”

Kohl’s provided not only all my new black underwear, but also some in lighter colors. I found several pairs of jeans and a bunch of black clothing: three pairs of slacks, two sweaters, and a slinky blouse. I was careful to make sure each item was entirely black. I also got three pairs of pants in other colors and a handful of nice knit tops in muted tones that Kara labeled “tasteful.”

Kara insisted on Saks for one item on the list — a black suit. While there, I also got what she identified as a “nice” pair of jeans. Those and the suit knocked me back as much as everything I’d bought at Kohl’s.

For shoes, I put my foot down — Saks was out of my league. Kara took me to Nordstrom. Still a lot of sticker-shock for small-town me, but not quite so bad. I left with heeled boots and a pair of pumps, both in black.

Our last stop was a sporting-goods store, where I got most of the other things on my list: sweat pants, running shorts, sports bras, socks, and athletic shoes. That stuff gave me a bad feeling. I’d never tended to put on weight, so I’d never gotten into working out. I didn’t particularly want to start.

Then I remembered trying to haul unconscious Kara along by her feet at the mill. Maybe getting a little stronger wasn’t such a bad idea.

We didn’t have time to buy the one thing left on the list, a black coat. I’d just have to hope spring came on quickly.

We headed back to the estate.

“So,” I said to Kara as we drove, “Do you live here most of the time?”

“Thank god, no. I’m based in Minneapolis. Williams and Callie and I are part of the Upper Midwest group. Graham too. He was in charge of it, actually. I’m sure that’s going to change, now.”

“Oh. Does that mean you’ll head back there soon?”

“I sure hope so.” She must’ve seen the expression on my face. “I’m sorry, Beth, but I couldn’t stay here with you if I wanted to. And god, I don’t want to. I’m sorry.”

“I know. I understand.”

I did understand, but I felt very alone. I liked Kara, but liking someone only mattered so much. Real friendships must be hard when any of us could be sent anywhere, anytime, and where fear was such a dominant force. Another part of Cordus’s control system, maybe.

“You’ll get to know the New York people. They’re good folks. Maybe you’ll get to hang out with Koji.”

She gave a half-hearted whistle as tribute to his hotness.

“Yeah, maybe so,” I said, and tried to smile.

Gwen knocked on my door at 6:00 the next morning. She suggested I shower and dress, then come with her to breakfast in the dining room at 7:00.

The staff had been bringing my meals on a tray, but I guess that was too good to last.

Noting that Gwen hadn’t been wearing black, I put on a pair of beige slacks and a white knit top. Pairing them with the black heels wouldn’t have been my first choice, but beggars couldn’t be choosers — it was either that or boots.

Breakfast was served in a huge dining room on the second floor. It took up a corner of the house. Tall windows looked out over the front lawn, which swept down and away to the distant tree line. When I stopped by a window and commented on how big the property looked, Gwen said it was over a thousand acres and had been parkland when Cordus took it over in the 1970s.

“He took over a park? How?”

Gwen looked a little uncomfortable. “Lord Cordus is gifted at influencing others.”

I’d seen that gift firsthand with the green man, but that was just one mind. I remembered that it was indelicate to ask about Seconds’ abilities. Still, how was I going to find out about these things if I didn’t ask?

“But millions of people live around here. Can he really influence that many people?”

“He doesn’t have to. A few key people needed influencing. I think they believe it’s a top-secret military installation. Everyone else still thinks it’s a park. But if they decide to come hiking here, they end up changing their minds at the last minute. If they notice cars coming and going, they forget about it. The roads and buildings don’t show up on satellite photos. The barrier around the property takes care of that sort of thing.”

At that moment, as I looked out across the lawn, it occurred to me that there might not be any meaningful limit to what Seconds could do in our world. What if one of them decided it was in their interest to assassinate a president? To cause a recession? To start a war? Maybe they’d been shaping our history from behind the scenes for a long time.

It was a shocking thought. I stood at the window, trying to collect myself.

“Come on,” Gwen said. “I’m hungry.”

There were between twenty and thirty people eating, and I knew fewer than half of them. The room was equipped with a variety of tables, some round, some square or rectangular. You could sit with just one other person, or as many as seven. All the tables were elaborately set with white linens and multiple dishes, glasses, and pieces of silverware. It was going to be a headache figuring out which things to use.

Gwen steered us toward Andy and Theo, the guys who’d been taking coats at court. They were alone at a four-top near the edge of the room. Once we all sat down, the three of them made me feel wispy. Gwen was very tall, and she looked like a bodybuilder. Andy and Theo were big men, both tall and brawny. I felt like a reed in comparison.

A waiter came and began serving us. Coffee and tea were offered, as well as water and a selection of juices. We placed orders for one of a handful of available entrées. I chose the omelet. Fruit and cereal, either hot or cold, were served while we waited for the main course to arrive. It was certainly the most elaborate breakfast experience I’d ever had.

Once I felt confident I wasn’t going to be approached with yet another set of food choices, I relaxed a little and turned my attention to my companions. I realized, seeing Theo and Andy up close, that they looked quite a bit alike.

“Are you guys brothers?”

“Yeah,” Theo said. “You got any siblings?”

“Yeah, an older brother.”

“Is he a Nolander?”

I shook my head.

“Too bad,” Andy said.

“Why’s that?”

“Families grow best if everyone gets some manure,” he said with a wink.

I laughed.

Theo and Andy might’ve reminded me a little of Williams when I first saw them, but they turned out to be quite friendly and perfectly capable of normal conversation.

After some questions about Dorf and life in rural Wisconsin, Andy asked what I was doing for the rest of the day.

“I guess Lord Cordus is going to start training me today,” I said.

Both men’s forks stopped halfway to their mouths. They glanced at Gwen, but she was looking down at her plate, concentrating on mopping up her egg yolk.

“He’s training you himself, is he?” Theo said.

“Hey, don’t worry about it,” Andy said, recovering himself. “It’ll be fine. Just listen carefully, try hard, and be really polite.”

I nodded.

“And don’t be afraid to ask questions,” Theo added. “Just, you know, skip the dumb ones.” He grinned at me, breaking the tension.

Still, it wasn’t the most auspicious start to the day. By the time we finished and Gwen walked me to Cordus’s office, I was scared. I felt like I was walking into the proverbial lion’s den, except this den belonged to some sicko rapist lion.

She knocked on the door, then opened it a crack. “Lord Cordus, I’ve brought Miss Ryder.”

“Thank you, Miss Hegstrom. You may go on to other duties, now.”

“Yes, sir.”

Gwen opened the door wider and nodded at me to go through. She even gave me an encouraging smile, which looked a little odd on her stern, weathered face.

My return smile felt more like a grimace. I blinked hard and took a deep breath. Then I headed in.

“Miss Ryder, your development is indeed anomalous.”

Cordus removed his fingertips from my arm and leaned back, studying me.

He and I were sitting in leather armchairs at one end of his office.

Actually, it was more like a library than an office — there was a desk at the other end, with several straight-backed chairs in front of it, but most of the room was given over to floor-to-ceiling shelving in some beautiful, dark wood. From what I could see, most of the books on the shelves looked old. Very old. Unlike in the dining room, there were few windows. The effect was cavelike.

It was the only room I’d seen on the estate that had any personality. I liked it. I wondered what it would be like in there on a winter night with a fire in the fireplace. Cozy. So long as Cordus wasn’t in there with you.

That said, once again, Cordus’s behavior hadn’t matched the horror of his reputation. He hadn’t tried anything inappropriate; in fact, he’d been polite.

I felt confused. Confused and fascinated. Fascinated and repulsed. It was hard not to stare at him, but when I did, I remembered that same stunning face impassively watching the green man tear itself apart.

At a loss, I’d retreated into the role of student. I was good at being a student, and I liked it. Good students didn’t think much about their teachers, and especially not their teachers’ looks. Instead, they thought about what they were studying.

He’d begun with exercises similar to what Graham had had me do at Rib Mountain — deep breathing and concentration. Then he’d asked if I could describe my sense of the worked-essence barrier he’d placed around us to keep our lesson private.

I’d told him I wasn’t aware of the barrier at all. That was when he’d touched me.

“How is it anomalous, exactly?” I asked.

“Did Mr. Ryzik explain to you the stages of development?”

I nodded.

“And he explained what it means to ‘see through’?”

“Being able to perceive workings and half-workings.”

“Correct. And did he explain what the term ‘capacity’ means?”

“Someone’s strength?”

“Yes. Capacity is a measure of one’s ability to work essence. When one is born, a tiny capacity is present, and it grows over time. When it reaches roughly two-thirds of its full potential, one achieves full sensory perception of worked essence.”

“What about gifts?” I asked.

“They usually remain latent for several more years.”

No wonder Graham’s approach to training me had struck a false note with the others.

“So why aren’t I developing like everyone else?”

“I believe your capacity lies at the root of the problem. As I said, one sees through when one’s capacity has reached roughly two-thirds of its full potential. I believe you began to see through significantly before your potential reached that mark. Therefore, your perception of worked essence is incomplete.”

“But aren’t I old for all this to start?”

“Yes. Seeing through in one’s early twenties is quite rare.”

“But …”

“Please ask your question, Miss Ryder.”

“It seems like I already have a fair amount of capacity. I had enough to power Mr. Williams’s shield for some time when we were on our way here.”

He looked at me in silence for several long seconds. Finally, he said, “Your perception is correct.”

A chill ran through me. How strong was I going to be, when all this was said and done?

He allowed me to sit in silence for several minutes, digesting. Then he started back in.

“It would be useful to know what triggered your premature seeing through. Can you describe what, in retrospect, you believe to be the first signs that something unusual was happening?”

“There weren’t really any signs. I just took these two pictures that showed Seconds. It all seemed to happen suddenly, over a weekend.”

“According to Mr. Ryzik, you were diagnosed with panic disorder.”

“Yeah, but that was when I was six.”

“Did your condition worsen recently?”

“It got really bad when I tried to go to college, but that was years ago. Once I came home, it went back to what it was like before.”

“How do you feel between episodes?”

“Normal, I guess.”

“There has been no change?”

I thought about it. “Well, I guess I have been feeling a little antsier, lately. The photography helps with that. I figured Dorf was just getting to me, you know?”

“No, Miss Ryder, I do not know. Please explain.”

I felt myself flushing. “Well, it’s a nice town, but it’s really small. I never wanted to stay there my whole life. I wanted to see new places, new people. Do something meaningful. But after what happened in Madison, I realized I’d have to stay in Dorf. It was hard to accept.”

Cordus tilted his head. “And only five years later did your situation begin to ‘get to you’?”

“I guess …” It was sort of strange. “Maybe it was cumulative?”

“Perhaps. I take it you cannot trace your increasing discomfort to any particular moment or event?”

I shook my head.

“And how did you come to see half-workings with your own eyes?”

“Mr. Ryzik got me to see them. He took me to visit a Second I couldn’t see and then left me alone with him. When I got scared enough, I saw him.”

Cordus was surprised. The eyebrow went up.

“That approach was unwise,” he said. “Trying to stimulate someone’s capacity through fear or other powerful emotions can have unpredictable and dangerous results. I shall have to speak with Mr. Ryzik about his training methods.”

“I don’t think he knew that’s what he was doing. He seemed to think my conscious mind was just suppressing what I was seeing.”

Cordus looked at me in silence. I took it to mean the subject of Graham’s mistakes was not open for discussion.

Finally, his point seemingly made, he said, “I believe it is safe to proceed, so long as we move carefully. Our lessons must offer your capacity the opportunity to stabilize and grow without applying undue pressure.”

“Okay,” I said, stifling the impulse to ask how sure he was about the “safe” part.

He held his hand out between us, palm up.

“I have made a small, spherical working three centimeters above my hand. The nature of the working is to create heat: the air within the sphere is twenty degrees warmer than that in the room at large. Focus your attention on that spot. Try to sense the disruption in the pre-existing state of reality.”

I concentrated on the air above his palm. It looked perfectly normal. It didn’t feel safer or buzzier; it didn’t feel any way at all. It was just an empty space.

After about thirty seconds, Cordus closed his hand and had me relax for a few minutes. Then he had me try again, but with my eyes closed. No go. The third time, he had me reach out and touch the air above his hand. I could feel that it was warmer, but couldn’t sense anything else.

After five rounds, he sat back, and I got the feeling we were done.

“Miss Ryder, please do not attempt to sense workings, except during our lessons. Gentle stimulation of your capacity should do no harm and may help. Doing more than that would be unwise. Is that clear?”

I nodded. He held my gaze for a moment, apparently to convey how very much he meant it. Then he rose and retrieved a folder and a book from his desk.

“We shall meet again at the same time tomorrow,” he said, “and every day thereafter. In the meanwhile, please read the document in this folder. You will return it to me tomorrow. You may write on it, but do not copy it or take separate notes.”

I