“Yes, but with what?” The way Pan asked the question, it was almost as if she already knew theanswer.
Jo bristled. The memory of Yuusuke was assaulting, oddly superimposed over her most recent sight of him. The pain of losing him was quickly replaced with frustration at his renewed determination to hack the Black Bank. “Blood.”
“And that’s the fourth level. A circle of blood, ordeath.”
“So, Snow can make wishes happen without extra help if they’re the firstlevel?”
Pannodded.
“What’s his power, really, then?” It sounded impressive, to be able to do such things in only ablink.
“To grant wishes.” Pan’s hand fell back to the desk and her mouth curled in a thin smile. Jo had to stop herself from sighing; that much about his power was obvious. Luckily, Pan didn’t take long to continue. “He’s got a very rare, very old, and very powerful magic. One of the originals, actually.” She paused, her eyes drifting back to Jo. They felt like cross-hairs. “Though, you already know that. You’re here, after all. . .” Her expression shifted again, resuming her perpetually amused smirk. “But that magic isn’t free. Nothing is, not evenwishes.”
“Everything comes at a price,” Jo rephrased. It was an idea she was well acquainted with. “He feeds on worlds ofpossibilities.”
“Oh-ho, you’ve already learned that?” Pan smiled, almost in approval. “Yes, to feed that insatiable magic of his and grant wishes, he destroys and feeds onworlds.”
“How does he consumethem?”
Pan merelyshrugged.
“That’s not ananswer.”
“It’s magic.” She smirked atJo.
“Does he kill people?”Like he did withme?
“One, or thousands. It all depends on how you look atit.”
Her throat ran dry. Jo swallowed, but it felt scratchy, the attempt getting lodging back behind her tongue. The icy air of the room had been filtered through the computer fans too many times. There wasn’t any speck of humidity left in what seemed to be increasingly frigidair.
“If a wish doesn’t fall into a close enough margin, then he has to draw more power. The world has to make a bigger jump. Such a shift can be. . .violent.”
“Violent,how?”
“Violent in a not good way.” It wasn’t an answer but Jo knew she wouldn’t get anythingmore.
“So, me, and everyone else in the Society. . . we prevent these violentshifts?”
“Exactly.” Pan clapped her hands. “You’re there to make sure that Snow isn’t using his magic to force too big of a jump, therefore preventing any unexpectedoutcomes.”
Jo made note of the words, “unexpected outcomes.” Even if Pan was partly explaining things she already knew, there was new information here, things worth remembering. “What happens if we don’t close the gap enough in the Severity ofExchange?”
“That hasn’t happened yet. So, I guess it’s not really something to worry about. . . unless you just caused it with your little antics in the mortalworld.”
There it was, that nasty, nagging feeling nudging at the back of her mind. Jo examined the woman head to toe. “That’s not an answer.” Why had her voice dropped to a whisper? Guilt. It was the guilt that threatened to drownher.
Pan’s smile widened, like a cat that had finally found its mouse. “Why? Are youscared?”
“What will happen?” Jo askedagain.
“The magic is made up elsewhere.” Pan pushed herself off the desk, standing once more. “Don’t worry so much! The world is safe. There’s seven of us under our dear Snow now. You’re part of a long line of defense against magic goingawry.”
“How do you know all this?” Maybe if she asked enough questions, one would elicit a satisfactory enough answer, one that might assuage the concern that was still gnawing on the vertebrae in herneck.
“Snow and I are very close. I’m practically his righthand man. Or, woman, rather,” she corrected with agiggle.
“Eslar isn’t?” Everyone, the man included, had made it seem like Eslar was the most senior member of the group. The elf had a sort of mothering air about him that seemed to affirm the idea of his role amongthem.
