I scowl. “Armhurts?”
“Amherst, yes,” he says. “Now, we should get to this, or it’ll take all night.”
I have a million more questions, but I suppose Jamie is a better target than this random dude who needs to get his work done. He asks when my power manifested, what I can do, and what I’ve used it for. It’s a little embarrassing to mention all my gambling and cheating, but I get through it without showing too much shame.
Then we get into some weird questions where I rate my emotional stability, my home life, and my comfort level with the supernatural. “On a scale of one to five, one being very infrequently, five being very frequently, how often do I use my powers in everyday life?” Or “On a scale of one to five, one being very low, five being very high, how favorably do I feel about the IBMA?”
Are they for real? I’ve known this organization for all of ten minutes. So far so good, I guess? I blow through all of them, saying exactly what I’m sure they want to hear to tick off their boxes.
Finally, he finishes the questions, and the readout before me flips so that I can see it. My eyes scan through the information and I grimace.
Apathy, high. Chaos, high. Obedience, low. Threat level, medium.
“That’s bullshit,” I declare. “I said everything right.”
He raises a single critical eyebrow. “You sure did, and you lied about most of it.”
A huff escapes me as I sit back in my seat. Magic glows on the floor beneath my feet, neon pink and pulsing like a heartbeat. It runs right up the side of his desk to a flat readout only he can see. My traitorous magic, tattling on me. Damn it.
“Would you like to try again, this time with honesty?”
I look up at Laurence and groan.
“Fine. Let’s do it again.”
thirty-eight
Longest Day Ever
By the end of the second attempt, I was thoroughly embarrassed, ashamed, and frustrated. Laurence passed no judgement of his own while asking questions, and the result was “Threat level, very low.” I wouldn’t need to be monitored closely, and was free to use my magic in the ways I had been. The IBMA apparently don’t involve themselves in the morals or politics of other worlds, but have a set of laws and standards of their own that often closely align.
Laurence comes around the desk and stands beside me. “It was nice to meet you, Ms. Feng. Best of luck out there.”
He taps my arm and I’m sucked through another beam of light back to the atrium. I stumble around for a moment until I catch sight of Jamie, and another person I know.
“Sylvia?” I ask the wild-haired woman.
She opens her arms. “You’re a registered witch! Congratulations!”
I’m not sure I’m hugging-friends with her yet, but I give her one anyway. She squeezes me extra tight, then releases me and gives me a wily smile.
“What threat level did you get?”
“Medium the first time, very low the second,” I say.
Jamie sighs. “You humans.”
“Same for me. Who knew lying was taken so seriously at the IBMA!” She pats my shoulders. “You doing okay otherwise? Not too freaky?”
“Fine,” I say with a shrug. “Was it weird for you?”
She seesaws her head. “Well, they followed me around in blacked-out SUVs for two weeks before deciding to knock on the door, so, yeah, it was weird.”
I look at Jamie. “You guys are creeps.”
She rolls her eyes, blinking her third lid. “That wasn’t my case, and they were assessing Apollo’s threat level at a distance while making sure Sylvia was safe.”
“Uh-huh,” Sylvia grunts, then smiles at me again. “Well, we’ve got a trial to be at in about twenty minutes, so we should go.”
