Seth knocked on the back door and opened it slowly, so he wouldn’t hit anyone. Mordecai and Erik appeared to be involved in the construction of a late breakfast or early lunch. He nodded to his former handler and smiled at his occasional student. “Good morning,” he said, to Erik. “I’m sorry. I’m just looking for Maggie’s mom. Is she here?”

Erik gravely pointed upwards.

“Inside or a bird?”

“Lessons,” Erik said. “Room 202.”

“Okay. Thanks. I just need to talk to her about something. Is that okay?”

“It’s okay with me,” Erik said, somewhat mystified.

Seth laughed weakly. “I guess I’ll go see if it’s okay with her. Is that okay?” He waved a hand. “Sorry. I know it’s okay. You keep having lunch. Or breakfast. Whatever it is. Sorry.”

“You want some?”

“No! Uh, sorry. Maybe later, but please don’t wait for me. I just… I think I’m going to be busy. For a while. Sorry.” He nodded to Mordecai again and slipped past the tangled chairs to the front room.

“I think he’s not okay,” Erik said.

Mordecai shook his head, but he did not look up from the pot of soup he had been stirring. “He wants something. He uses that word like punctuation when he wants something. It’s hard for him, so let’s leave him alone, dear one.”

Erik nodded.

◈◈◈

Maggie answered the hesitant knock on the door with a smile. Maybe Erik wanted to go to the movies or something. It faded somewhat as she adjusted her gaze upwards. “What happened?”

It wasn’t necessarily that she thought something bad had happened. She felt bad right away for saying it like that. But obviously something had happened. Her auxiliary teacher was unusually tidy. His clothes didn’t have any stains. It looked like he had paid someone to cut his hair, or maybe just used a comb instead of his fingers. He had a real shirt with a collar under his sport coat. He was wearing socks.

Geez, Maggie, she scolded herself. He has more money than he’s had in years and he spent some of it on himself. That’s a good thing!

It was just… He didn’t look very happy.

He smiled at her, but he still didn’t look very happy. “Oh. Maggie. Hi. Good morning. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I interrupted your lessons. Erik told me but I wasn’t listening. I didn’t expect you. I just wanted to speak to your mother.”

“What about?”

He winced. “Maggie, you’re a smart person, you can do a lot and you deserve to be included in things. I am so sorry. I got distracted and I wasn’t thinking of you. I’m going to have a hard enough time explaining this to your mother alone. Will you just let me do that? Please.”

Maggie leaned in and muttered aside, “Did you buy more cats?”

He sighed. “No. This is worse. I’m being stupid, but for me, this is worse. Please, can I see your mother alone?”

“You’re not stupid,” Maggie said. She walked back into the bedroom and scooped a familiar little grey fuzzball off her bed. “Mom, I’m taking some time off. Erik and me are going to play with the kitten.”

“‘Erik and I,’” the General said.

“Mom, sometimes I need to use nonstandard grammar so I sound like a human being, okay? I’m not gonna kneecap myself socially for the sake of some rules. Seth wants to talk to you. I gotta go.” She leaned in and lifted the kitten on her way past, “Digby says hi.”

“Mew,” said the kitten.

Seth made a small, and somewhat more genuine, smile. It soon faded. The General stood and addressed him, “What is it? More money?” She pulled open the desk drawer.

He cringed and put up both hands. “No!” He sighed again. He pushed the door closed behind him, so no one else would hear. “Yes, but no. Not that money. This is hard for me, General D’Iver. Will you just let me say it how I want to say it? If you start asking me questions, I won’t know how to answer.”

She closed the drawer, folded her hands and nodded. She waited for him.

He took a few breaths and tried to collect himself. “I don’t… I’m sorry. I haven’t had to beg for anything in a long time. I don’t like doing it. After I had the school, people just started giving me things. And, and for money… I did whatever work I could do. You know that. I have to ask you… I want something. Like a present, for Yule. I can’t just buy it for myself. I need you to help me.” He shook his head. “I don’t even know if I can get it with you helping me, but I think there’s a chance, so I have to ask.”

“Is it more cats?”

He scowled. “General D’Iver, that is cruel. You’re either teasing me or underestimating me and that is cruel. I wouldn’t ask for a pet this way!”

She bowed to him. “I apologize, Mr. Zusman. Perhaps I was trying to lighten the mood, but I am not good at that. How can I help you?”

“I feel like a character in a bad movie — like I’m just saying this so the director can cut to the reveal — but, I, I…” He put a hand to his head and looked away. “I’m not good at explaining things to you and this is hard enough as it is. Can I show you something? Maybe then you’ll understand.”

She nodded.

“Thank you. Um.” He opened the door. “I need you to come with me. It’s a bit of a walk. I’ll give you some time to get ready.”

“All I have to do is put my coat on, Mr. Zusman.”

He nodded. “Thank you.”

◈◈◈

She suspected where they were going as soon as they walked past the school, but she didn’t mention it or request clarification. He was walking with his head down and twisted away from her, like some kind of debilitating neck injury. It did not invite conversation. She supposed she ought to be grateful he hadn’t tried to blow her head off with a fire extinguisher.

Should I be working harder to put people at ease? she wondered quietly to herself. She gave a little snort and shook her head. Little moments like this awkward walk with the schoolteacher were not the norm. In aggregate, it just wasn’t worth the effort.

Maybe it won’t be as hard for Maggie. When she’s older.

She was pleased to note that the enormous three-dimensional rainbow foil spider was still crawling around the outside of the building. Magnificent built things logically and with admirable complexity for her age.

Of course, the house itself, from the basement windows to the top of the twin cupolas, also remained puke green with a purple roof, but that was only to be expected. When one of the premier generals of the Marselline Army designed something, it stayed put.

She thought some of the ghosts in the windows were missing, but Terpsichore might have done those.

Altogether, it looked like 1444 Eddows Lane was going to stay haunted until the next magic storm, spring or summer next year. Impressive, but perhaps inappropriate for the season. Maybe she could add a couple of holly wreaths, a Santa hat on the spider… unless Mr. Zusman wanted her to dismantle it entirely. “Is it frightening the children?” she asked him.

He shook his head. “I’ll show you.” He held the broken gate open for her, but he ducked in front of her and beat her to the front door. “Wait.” He knocked three times on the wooden door frame and said, “Katie, can I come in?” Then he opened the door himself and peeked inside. “Hello?”

“It’s Seth!” a small voice said.

There was a veritable stampede of children. One of them engaged the screaming floorboard upstairs, but three of them came from that direction and she couldn’t be sure which. She named each one silently, in order of appearance: Sarah Cobb, Pierre Saint Pierre, Emily Rafaela, Josette Chevalier, Carlos Zamora, Maria Shaw and Henri De Fiore. Not a “Katie” among them, not even one that preferred it as a nickname.

Seth gave hugs and patted heads.

Emily dipped an awkward curtsy for General D’Iver. Josette appeared to recall military etiquette and offered a bow. “Good morning, General D’Iver.” “Morning.”

General D’Iver returned the bow. “Good morning, children.”

Carlos noticed her and waved shyly. Henri said, “Hey, Crazy Lady.”

“Disrespectful, Master De Fiore,” the General said.

He shrugged. “Can we call it ‘friendly’?”

Seth waited for her response with a pained expression.

“Very well, but please refrain from that level of familiarity in mixed company.”

Henri frowned. “How d’you mean ‘mixed’?”

“What did you bring us?” Charlie asked with a grin. Maria swatted the back of his head. “Hey!”

“Mary, please don’t.”

“It’s rude,” she said.

“Hitting people isn’t polite, Mary, and Charlie is five. Besides, I do keep bringing you things. It’s my fault. I’m encouraging it.” He put a hand in his pocket and came out with a paper bag. He offered it to them. “That’s all I have, but please share. I haven’t found any furniture lately.”

“Candy canes!” Charlie announced.

Maria snickered. “You don’t bring us furniture in your pockets, Seth.”

Charlie indicated the General, already with a candy cane in his mouth, “She can make it fly!”

“I guess that’s right,” Maria said doubtfully.

“I do not have furniture,” said the General. She narrowed her eyes. “If you don’t mind my asking, why, of all things, are you expecting people to bring you furniture?”

◈◈◈

Charlie crossed his fingers behind his back and shut his eyes. “No scary ghosts, Katie. No scary ghosts.”

“There aren’t scary ghosts in this room, Charlie, I promise,” Seth said gently.

“I’m just making sure,” the boy replied. He pushed open the door.

The room was a bit small for a parlour, so perhaps it had been meant as a boudoir or sitting room.

(The General had grown up on a country estate; she knew once a house reached a certain size it began sprouting specialized little rooms like tumours. You could only fit so many soaring ballrooms and galleries in a space, and still call it a home. The square footage had to be divided up somehow. Whoever designed this place had let it get quite out of hand. There had been about a hundred closets just begging for Magnificent to populate them with monsters.)

There were three windows. The leftmost had the transparent image of a woman which smiled and then faded, repeatedly, but that wasn’t what you’d call “scary.”

The plank floor had a few rugs tossed over it, some blankets, pillows, two mattresses and a sleeping bag.

There was a low table, perhaps a coffee table, with scattered papers, broken crayons, drawings, a half-eaten sandwich, and a toy giraffe on it. In the corner there was another, higher table with a hotplate and a saucepan. Beside it was a pile of mismatched plates, all clean. There were two chairs against the wall, and a stained sofa which looked as if it had been rescued from beside a trash can. The middle seat, missing its cushion, had been carefully filled with a folded blanket.

The dingy wallpaper had been brightened with paint and crayons. There were flowers, clouds, butterflies, several beaming suns, and lots of child-sized handprints. A few of these had been signed with careful printing: Josie. Charlie. Petey. Edie. Mary. Emily…

Charlie waved to the woman’s image in the window. “Hi, Minnie!”

“Mrs. Muir,” Maria corrected him.

Josette snickered. “Minerva Muir. She doesn’t mind ‘Minnie.’ She’s a good ghost.”

The woman smiled and faded without objecting.

“Does she want a candy cane?” Charlie asked.

“I think she’s okay, but we better leave one for Katie.”

“I don’t think Katie needs a candy cane, my dears,” Seth said.

Behind Charlie, out of his view, Emily shook her head and mouthed, it’s okay.

“Katie eats cookies, and she always leaves one with a bite out of it,” Charlie said firmly. He left, holding a candy cane. “No scary ghosts, Katie! No scary ghosts!”

Emily dropped Seth a wink. “Katie is like Santa Claus.”

“No,” Henri said. “She’s better. Santa doesn’t care about kids who sleep in pizza kitchens.”

“Maybe you need a chimney,” Maria said.

“Maybe I need parents,” Henri replied acidly. He sat down by the coffee table and picked up the sandwich. “Seth, if you want one, we’ve still got peanut butter, okay?”

◈◈◈

Seth and the General departed after one polite sandwich each, and some tea, which Emily made on the hotplate. The house lacked running water, but there was a pump in Blueberry Square, just a short walk away.

“They are sleeping there, aren’t they?” the General asked, as they made their way back towards Violena Street.

“They are living there, General D’Iver,” Seth said. “Sarah found herself without a father or a place to stay due to circumstances you can undoubtedly infer. She got herself a job and she was sleeping in a kitchen, but she prefers it there. It’s safe and warm and it hasn’t yet occurred to any adults that they might find a place to sleep in a jury-rigged haunted house with a huge magic spider on it and obvious holes in the roof. Sarah was the first, but all of them like it there better than where they were.

“And when magic season blows through here next year, the whole place is going to break down — if it doesn’t blow sky-high because of the strikes. Katie, Mrs. Muir and all.”

“What are they calling ‘Katie’?” asked the General.

“The one who rolls the baseball across the hallway and says ‘put it back’ if you pick it up. I think that’s Maggie’s voice, but they don’t notice. She sounds like a child. She’s a child like they are and they expect her to keep them safe from the other ones.

“I turned down or broke most of the worst ones, but I can’t figure out that damned… Excuse me, that darn floorboard that screams. And there’s this thing with a pair of scissors in its eye.” He shuddered. “I can’t find the anchor or the trigger, I think it’s just random. I know it’s not real and I screamed when I saw it. But they’d still rather stay there with it than sleep in the street or go home to their families. It doesn’t hurt them.”

He frowned. “They’re calling it Claude. I have no idea where they’re getting these names — except Katie. I’m sure that’s ‘Take Me Out to the Ballgame.’ It’s because of the baseball.”

“I believe The Ghost and Mrs. Muir is a film,” the General said. “I would look it up for you, but I destroyed the book in a fit of pique.”

“That’s very interesting, but that’s not what I wanted to ask you.”

He stopped walking and turned to face her. “General D’Iver, the government owes you more than the price of a house, and we have reason to suspect they don’t have the money. I want a house. I want that house, so I can fix it up for real and the children can stay there past magic season, for as long as they need. That house is a war-damaged historic building which is also owned by the government, albeit a different branch of it. I don’t know if this is possible, but would you magic your back pay into a house for me? For them. I know I can’t do that myself. Can you?”

The General opened her mouth and then closed it.

“Now, I don’t mean anything,” Seth began.

She put up her hand. “No, no. It’s not that I disapprove of the idea, I’m just mystified by the scope. You seem to have stopped firmly short of the logical use for a house with a few dozen rooms which you intend to own and maintain, Mr. Zusman. For them, you say. Why wouldn’t you live in the house? If you desire privacy, there is space enough to give you each your own room with a demilitarized zone in between.”

“I can’t, people take things from the school.”

The General frowned at him. “I would think that a man who taught trigonometry would have better spatial ability. Your school fits under a bridge, Mr. Zusman.” She gestured to the monstrosity of a house behind him. “It doesn’t have trains running over it and there are already children living in it. Location, location, location, as they say.”

Now he put up his hand. “I was going to say, before you interrupted me to agree with me, that I don’t mean anything official, General D’Iver. Because, officially, I am dead or missing. I am a man with no employment history, no income, no real name, and no credentials but a fake driver’s license.

“Two-hundred-and-fifty sinqs a month is quite enough to fix up this house for homeless children to live there safely — while I pretend I’m not looking and I don’t know — but it’s not even enough for the bribe money I would need to put a school in there and keep the authorities from shutting it down. It’s a historic building. If I do anything noticeable, I’m going to have a dozen people breathing down my neck to make certain I haven’t moved a stone of the precious foundation out of place. People will notice a school! They walk by the place every day!”

“Noticeable, you say,” said the General. She did not need to mention the giant rainbow spider, which was visible even at this distance.

“Nobody owns it at the moment, General D’Iver. The government isn’t about to hold itself responsible for clearing up a little more vandalism. It’s all just… just ordinary urban decay.”

“Ordinary?”

He slumped and sighed. “In a manner of speaking. I’m sorry. I came prepared to beg for help and you’re scolding me for not wanting more. I don’t think what you want to do is possible. I never even considered it.”

“You suffer from an appalling lack of imagination, but I sympathize with the difficulty you have improvising,” she said. “I will see what I can do about the building, but you must give me a few days.”

“I-I didn’t expect…”

“If I wish to donate furniture or supplies to the children in the meantime, must I knock and ask for ‘Katie’s’ approval?”

He nodded weakly.

“Very well. I would invite you back to the house for lunch, but I’m afraid I must head uptown and visit the city planner’s, while they’re still open. Please excuse me.” She paused for a moment, regarding his blank expression. “Shield your eyes, Mr. Zusman.”

He did so.

There was a tearing sound and a flash. When he looked up, he caught a vague glimpse of something bird-shaped winging away.

“The bus stop is right there,” he muttered.

He sighed. Otherwise at a loss, he turned and began walking back to the school.

◈◈◈

He wasn’t exactly trying to avoid her, but he didn’t see her again for a week. Then she turned up at the school.

“Oh. Um. Good morning, General D’Iver. Is there, um… Can I help you?”

“It was not my intention to interrupt your lesson, Mr. Zusman. Unfortunately, I am not able to call ahead and reserve your time. You may continue until you find an appropriate place to pause, I will wait.”

“Um. Ah. Yes, of course. Thank you. Uh.” He stared at the chalkboard without quite reading it. “The… The thing about quadratic equations, children… Ah. I’m sorry. What were we doing?”

Bethany raised her hand and waited for him to point at her, which took him a minute or more. “Vowel sounds.”

“Yes.” He stared at the board for a moment longer, then he glanced back at the woman in the military greatcoat. He clasped his hands and smiled. “We never have recess. Why don’t we try it for a little while? You can, ah, play at the haunted house. It’s not far. What about that?”

There was muttered discussion and shrugging. “Okay,” Bethany said for the group. Uncertainly, they began to get up and leave the tables and chairs.

The General lifted a hand and halted them. “Excuse me. Then we may as well walk together. I also wish to visit the haunted house, with your teacher.”

“What are you going to play?” Bethany asked. “We like Hide and Seek.”

“We are going to play Defrauding the Government,” the General said. “We like that. I think you will find it is similar.”

◈◈◈

The General produced a rolled sheaf of papers and blueprints from nowhere. She began to affix them to the wall, working around the illusory pictures as the eyes followed her movement. “What I have to present to you, Mr. Zusman, is what I would call the least illegal and most workable solution. It is still illegal, but you were willing to skirt the law before you presented your plan to me, so you have no logical basis for objection.”

“Child endangerment,” Seth replied, arms folded. They had set up in a semi-private room with a monster in the closet and he saw no point in trying to be polite without the children around. If she decided to put him in a coma, there was very little he could do about that.

“Minimal,” she said, “but please let me get to it in my own time. Let me see…” She examined the papers and selected a thin stack with a staple in the corner, which she handed to him. “These are the regulations which we are working within and around. I know you find legal matters intimidating, so I will explain.

“This building is owned by the government, as you suspected, and available for purchase under the Salvage of Historic Marselline Buildings Law. That means that a reasonable attempt has been made to find its original owners since the war, and whoever they are, they don’t own it anymore. The building is available at a discount if we promise to restore it as closely to its original condition as possible — in accordance with the Preservation of Historical Buildings Code, attached. The documented price of the building — which they are not capable of increasing, although they tried…”

◈◈◈

Calliope put money in the payphone and dialed, long distance. “Hey. Oh, hi, Euterpe. Home for the holidays, huh? Or did Terpsichore put handcuffs on you?” She laughed. “Cool. I’m glad I know where you are for once. Is Mom around? No, I have a bunch of change, I’ll wait.” She hummed and played with the phone cord, providing her own hold music.

“Mom? Hi, Mom. Remember when I told you the government might be trying to dock soldiers their pay for no reason and — Yow!” She juggled the phone and held it away from her as if it had begun to spit cartoon flames. “Mom! Mom! I know! Listen, that’s great… No-no! I mean, yeah, it’s terrible, but I’m glad you’re finding stuff, that means you can fix it. Well, or maybe someone can fix it, yeah? Okay.

“Anyway, this is related. I want to see if I can get them to pay Glorie a building. We’re pretty sure they don’t have the money but they do have a building, so she was trying to get them to trade her but then they tried to jack up the price and I’m pretty sure that’s bullshit… Uh-huh. Uh-huh. Hang on, Mom, I’m in a drugstore. Let me buy a notepad.”

◈◈◈

“…Fortunately, Calliope and Marigold-Muse Law are representing our interests. They are competent and often terrifying. But, as I was saying, this building is essentially on clearance, Mr. Zusman. The documented cost is a little more than half of my owed pay. Ideally, I would use the remaining funds to fix it up, but Calliope’s mother doubts I will ever see that money as money. Another building is not out of the question, but I doubt you are prepared to operate a franchise…”

Seth was leafing rapidly through the packet. “General D’Iver! It says here they’re going to inspect it! Every year! I can’t put an illegal school in a building they’re going to inspect every year, and the only other option is to pay three times as much and tear it down — I can’t do that either! I can’t afford an entire new…”

“Curb your hysteria, Mr. Zusman, this is where the fraud part comes in. I have done my research. Unfortunately my liaison with the Slaughterhouse is Mr. Rose, but he is preferable to Mr. Addison, who was my only other option…”

◈◈◈

“Hi, Milo!” Otto swung down from the rafters and took the ladder the rest of the way, clattering as his hands slipped past the rungs. He didn’t do work without a net and he was ready to grab on and apply the brakes, but experienced enough that he rarely needed to. “You looking for work? I got some gobos that are giving me a real pain in my ass…” He snickered. “And that’s a big pain for a little ass, you know?”

Milo paused with a hand in his front pocket and a frown. He nodded slowly. He would like to play with the lights, but he didn’t come here prepared to say, “Sure I’ll help you with the lights, but I have this other thing I need to do first” and Otto didn’t know sign. Doubtfully, he handed Otto a card.

“I wear that hat sometimes,” Otto said with a grin. “What do you need?”

Milo blew out a long breath. He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a folded letter in an envelope labelled: Everything About Seth’s School (so far).

“Wow,” Otto said. “Hang on. Let me get a soda and take a break.” He began to read as he walked. Milo darted ahead of him and put a sol in the machine. “Hey, thanks.” Otto pulled another sol out of his pocket. “You have one too.”

Otto sat and read on the sofa in the spare office, with one leg crossed over his lap and the foot eagerly jiggling. It was like a dog wagging its tail. “I see why you want someone from here,” he said. “We know our way around this code business. But you know I can’t give you safe, functional, cheap and legal. You have to pick three, and we fudge the other one.”

Milo nodded and signed him a thumbs up.

Otto beamed at him. “I’ll trade you. You help me with the gobos and I’ll see if I can make your illegal school look like it’s still historical and not a school. Deal?”

Milo nodded. He even managed a smile!

“You’re going to need a sprinkler system, because there’s going to be a lot of foam and canvas involved. Do you have blueprints?” He shuffled the papers and found a sketched copy of the plans for each floor. “Ah! This’ll do for a start!”

◈◈◈

“…Your liaison with the Slaughterhouse will be Mr. Otto Holtz. He has expressed his intention to ‘swing by’ when he has time next week. I cannot guarantee you he will remember to ask permission from ‘Katie,’ but you will have little difficulty recognizing him as he is under four feet tall. Mr. Rose has asked me to instruct you and the children not to refer to him as ‘miniature,’ but Mr. Rose is an idiot, so take that with a grain of salt.”

“I-I’m sorry… a slaughterhouse?”

“It is a theatre. They are also located in an historic building and experienced with skirting the code. According to the SHMBL, which the clerk at the city planner’s humorously pronounces ‘shamble,’ we have a year to get the building up to code before our first inspection, with an option for multiple extensions if we fill out the correct forms. According to Mr. Holtz, they always call first and they will fail to check in for up to twenty-three months at a stretch, as long as it doesn’t look like I am renting the place out ‘like a slumlord’ — his words, not mine.

“Since your ‘rent’ is negative two-hundred-fifty sinqs a month and tax-free, as long as the building looks normal and unoccupied from the outside, we will have free rein for quite some time. I will, of course, remove the faux-finish and the giant rainbow spider. There are any number of simple spells to make the window glass one-way, so you may operate in privacy without loss of natural light. Children enjoy natural light.

“Miss Garofalo — whom, alas, I needed to contact through Miss Rose…”

◈◈◈

“Oop, hang on a sec, hon.” Lola picked up the receiver and spoke sweetly, “Hellooo? Oh! Ann! Give me a second!” She tipped the phone against her shoulder and poured Corinne some more coffee with the other hand. “This might take me a while, my boyfriend is a total motormouth.”

“Your boyfriend is called Ann?” Corinne said, blinking.

Lola bobbed her head from side to side. “Boyfriend-girlfriend. Friend with benefits. It’s complicated, but in a cute way. I’ll have to introduce you sometime. She’s super fun, but she won’t help me do mods unless she’s wearing pants.” She shrugged and put the phone back to her ear. “Hi, Annie, what’s up? Hmm?” She began to grin. “For real?”

Reflexively, Corinne smiled too. She sipped coffee.

Lola waved a hand in the air. “Wait-wait-wait. No. Stop talking. Zip! Tell me we’re going to fix the school and I get to do it however I want. I have a million ideas and I need to hear these words, Ann!” She scowled. “All right, I’m not going to injure the children or blow up the teacher, that was just a workaround for when they didn’t have a building! Geez, Ann!

“No, we’re not having a fight, I’m just annoyed you don’t trust me. No, it’s not the same. Okay.” She sighed. “But whatever I want as long as it’s safe?” She grinned again and applauded softly against her hand holding the phone. “Yes! I’ll be right down and we can start… Wait, I have company.” She smiled apologetically at Corinne. “I still love you, hon, I just get excited. Tomorrow, Ann, okay? Superb! See you then!” She hung up.

“Are you gay or what?” Corinne asked.

Lola frowned. “No, I don’t think so. I would be for Annie if I had to but I don’t.” She smiled and shrugged. “Tony’s always after me to broaden my horizons anyway. Now he’s gay. Ooh, I have a photo album! Let me show you! He just bought the cutest little pupper-dupper! She looks like a mop!” She ran to the bookshelf.

Corinne snickered and sipped coffee again.

◈◈◈

“…is perfectly capable of designing and constructing whatever mechanical objects you might need. She will also be dropping by, although likely with Mr. or Miss Rose in tow. These are some of her preliminary ideas, but much of the magical notation is illegible. I’m afraid Mr. Rose cannot be prevented from ‘helping’ her.”

She sighed. “In any case, if you require any odd parts or craziness that Miss Garofalo cannot produce on her own, Mr. Rose and Miss Hyacinth will make them for her, at very low cost. Calliope also intends to offer Mr. Holtz free use of her art supplies.

“If I may draw your attention to these plans in particular, Miss Garofalo has made an attempt to deal with the logistical nightmare of allowing the children to enter and leave the school freely, without drawing the attention of the authorities.

“She has suggested a series of hidden doors in the hedge fence which are password-protected, in conjunction with a well-marked pathway at the edge of the property, to prevent the average pedestrian from cutting through the backyard — as they are accustomed to do on their way to Blueberry Square. I believe this to be the first essential modification, after which point you will be free to move the school indoors at your earliest convenience.

“The system of hidden decoys which will be necessary to protect an outdoor application of magic will be more complex, but we have until magic season to perfect it. We will have even more time to bring the building up to code and we will make provisions to hide any children living here for the length of the inspections. As far as I am concerned, they can all come to 217 Violena for the day. We will serve cake.

“Unofficially, I have pencilled in ‘Katie, can I come in?’ as the password, but your input is welcome. As would be any attempt to utter human language on your part, Mr. Zusman,” she concluded with a frown.

He was staring at the papers on the wall and clutching the rolled Preservation of Historical Buildings Code in both hands. He had gone quiet.

“Well?”

He jumped. He shook his head.

“If anything is not to your liking, we can make changes.”

“General D’Iver, this is like getting run over by a freight train! Please. Give me a few minutes.”

“Can we call it a friendly freight train?” said the General.

“This is exactly how Taggart used to plot out killing hundreds of people in the most efficient way possible, so no, not around me.” He sighed. “But it seems safe enough and even if this entire speculative segment of wall fails,” he flung out both arms to encompass the area, “the children will have a safe place to stay past magic season. That’s all I wanted. So we might as well get started.”

“Excellent.” She offered her hand to shake. “I have already purchased the building. Happy Yule.  I will fix all the windows and deal with the haunted house effects before I go.”

His mouth fell open. He closed it in a murderous frown. “What… What… Why…”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“What were you going to do if I didn’t say all of this madness was okay?”

“I was going to beat you about the head with logic until you said it was. Your lawyer does not know I am here.” She bowed.

He clapped both hands over his face. She believed she detected a faint scream, but that might have been the board upstairs.

He smiled, he took a deep breath, and he tried to relax. He did that three or four times.

“Thank you for all your help, General D’Iver. I really appreciate it. Please thank everyone else for me too. I know it’s difficult to disentangle all the layers of magic on this house, but please try not to hurt Katie, if you can help it. They love her. That’s all. I’ll let you get started.” He bowed and staggered out of the room.

It did turn out to be necessary to remove ‘Katie,’ but she replaced the rolling baseball and the effects to the best of her ability. She would require Magnificent or some other child to record a new message about putting the ball back, but she was able to capture a few good laughs as the children ran and played around her. She also added the transparent image of a girl in a baseball cap that bore no more than a passing resemblance to Maggie — it would appear randomly in several rooms of the house. For the season, she put a candy cane in its hand.

After making one final pass of the outside, to be sure she hadn’t missed any windows, she discovered Mr. Zusman sitting on a stone bench in the overgrown backyard. His hands were stuffed in his pockets and his head was down. The ground at his feet was littered with dead branches and a fine film of muddy snow.

“It seems you don’t mind Miss Rose’s red boots, but may I recommend an overcoat of some kind?” she said.

He jerked upright and winced at her. He looked away again, regarding the bare trees against the white sky. “I’m sorry, you startled me. Are you… No, I know you’re not done. Have you finished for the moment?”

“For the moment. And Katie lives… in a manner of speaking.” She bowed. “I do appreciate your patience, Mr. Zusman.”

He shook his head, but he didn’t look back. “It’s all right. I just need to get used to it. I was just thinking… It’s a shame about the garden.” He indicated the tangle of weeds and dead plants, which was dotted with occasional sculptures and stepping stones. “I mean, it obviously used to be a garden. But it’s outside where people can see it. There’s no point in fixing it up if they can’t ever play in it.”

He stood with a sigh and turned back to the house with a smile. “But it’s all right. We can put a lot of nice flowers in one of the big rooms on the first floor, I’m sure they’ll love that. Maybe that solarium, with the big windows… Can they still see out the windows?” It looked as though each pane had been covered with soap.

“Yes,” the General replied absently. She walked a few paces, examining the space. “I have mentioned your appalling lack of imagination, Mr. Zusman. I would go so far as to say this is why you never made it past tactics.”

“I called a god to do that for me, General D’Iver.”

“Indeed.” She turned and framed the house with her fingers, already plotting where to anchor the optical magic and, if necessary, the retractable mist net. “I will run it past Miss Garofalo, Mr. Holtz and, alas, Mr. Rose. We ought to be able to provide the children a garden with minimal effort.” She frowned. “Unless it was your intention to mess about putting actual living plants in it. I have no idea how to cope with those.”

He laughed. “I don’t, either, but I suppose I have some time to figure it out. I’ll get some books from the library.”

She shrugged. “Suit yourself. It seems needlessly complex to me.”

She couldn’t fathom why he thought that was funny, too, but she was sure he meant no disrespect. Perhaps he was just getting used to it.