This was the most he’d ever talked in my presence. He rarely said a couple of sentences jammed together, let alone a whole paragraph. This wasn’t the subject I’d have chosen for him to find his voice.

“Please tell me you started turning the radio down during those times?” I whispered.

Wariness crowded the link now, so heavy that I felt like I was drowning in it.

“I didn’t know I should,” he responded. “Gargoyles are sexual beings. We share it freely. I thought…”

His words ceased at the shaking of my head, at the continued horror that was surely on my face. Not that he’d need the cue. He could apparently feel it.

I turned and headed for the house, my mind whirring.

“Do you know if it’s the same with Ulric?” I asked.

“I have not asked,” he said, falling in behind me.

It occurred to me that one or the other, Jasper or Ulric, was always out in the halls whenever I got up from a nightmare, a frequent occurrence lately. Almost as if they knew what was happening. And then there was Mr. Tom, who was always one step ahead of me when it came to getting up in the morning, either waiting by my bed or getting coffee ready to bring up. He could accurately predict my hunger and had a sixth sense about what I needed before I asked for it.

Because he’d been feeling my emotions the whole time.

We neared Ivy House, its massive shape cloaked in dark shadows that matched my mood. Niamh sat on her porch across the street, a rock in hand. She was watching a man who’d stalled in front of Ivy House. He reached into the satchel hanging at his side, probably to grab a newly created potion. Given she hadn’t thrown the rock yet, she knew he wasn’t a tourist. Now she was watching to see if he’d become my next professor.

I had my mind on other things. Mainly, the fact that Mr. Tom and the gargoyles were not the only people who’d been lying to me.

Austin had been able to feel me all this time as well. He’d randomly called when I was upset for some reason or other, or in danger, to check in. The “coincidence” had always been welcomed. But now I realized those calls hadn’t been random. He’d been responding to my distress.

He hadn’t turned the volume down on his side. At least, he didn’t all the time.

In this time of peace, did he still feel everything I felt even though I was giving him the privacy I thought he wanted?

My gut pinched in anger and I started forward again, Jasper shadowing me, back to silence. He hadn’t apologized, and why should he? He hadn’t known any better.

Austin did.

The man in front of Ivy House upended a bottle of yellow potion into his mouth before putting it away.

“Not enough power,” I murmured. The color was wrong for that potion, which meant the creation wasn’t powerful enough to mask him from Ivy House.

I quickly crossed the street onto the sidewalk, passing in front of Niamh’s house, Jasper following suit.

The mage stepped onto the walkway leading to my front door. One hesitant step, two… Picking up the pace now, four steps, five…

He reached the magical panel Edgar had installed in the sidewalk. I’d covered it with a simple masking spell, blending its look and characteristics with the landscape around it. A good mage should have been able to recognize the spell—fuzzy edges and a slight sheen gave it away.

The panel popped up with a loud snap.

The man didn’t have time to swear. The vial flew out of his hand. His body soared up into the air, the spelled and spring-loaded panel flinging him in an arch.

He windmilled his arms as he rotated. “Whoooooooaaaaaaa.”

He smacked down onto the pavement in the street, his arms splaying out and his satchel half under him.

Niamh cackled, leaning back in her rocking chair and holding her stomach with one hand.

“What the…” The man flailed like a turtle on its back. “Why…”

“Here ye go, a participation medal.” Niamh pushed to her feet and hurtled a rock at the man. It pelted his chest.

“Hey!” The man jerked, flailing harder now.

Niamh doubled over, guffawing. She loved that new ejection cord, as she called it. She also loved sending the failed candidates running.

She scooped up another rock and threw it, cracking him in the side of the head. “Have’ta be stronger than ye are. Now off ye get.” She threw another. “No time to waste.”

The man cried out, finally making it onto his feet. The satchel dragged at him as he stood, anger tightening his limbs. He faced Niamh down, his power surely building, probably readying a spell.

I hurried forward to intercept, but I needn’t have bothered.

“Oh, so ye want to play cops ’n’ dinguses, do ye?” Niamh stripped out of her clothes like a woman on speed, her movements that of someone half her age, her deftness and strength compliments of Ivy House. (The magic would have made us all young too, but I’d accepted only some of the perks. I’d earned my age, and I wasn’t ashamed of it.)

The man lifted his hands to fire off a spell, but she’d already changed into her nightmare alicorn form, with ink-black scales and a flaring golden mane, her golden hooves drumming against the ground as she charged at him. She lowered her head, pointing her crystalline horn at his chest.

“Holy—” He fired off the spell, the blast going wide, before scrambling out of the way. “A puca?” he choked out, panic riding his words.

Niamh ran past him, narrowly missing an impaling strike. The man would have no way of knowing she’d aimed badly on purpose. She wasn’t on Ivy House soil—she knew better than to kill someone, unprovoked, in Austin’s territory. She had a very, very short list of things she feared, and he was high on that list.

I ignored her antics, my mood souring further. Yet another mage had failed the tests, and I had to wonder if anyone appropriate would show up. I walked past the mock battle in the street and magically reaffixed the trap panel before pushing into Ivy House a moment later.

Mr. Tom was walking down the hall toward me, his tuxedo wrinkle-free in opposition to his lined face. His wings looked like a cape, brushing the backs of his legs. A sandwich waited atop a silver tray next to brown liquid in a crystal glass. Iced tea, no doubt.

“Good afternoon, miss,” he said, his voice stuffy. “Would you be taking lunch in…your room, perhaps? Maybe overlooking the gardens?”

That spot always calmed me. He knew that. Given what he could sense through the link, he knew I needed it.

I clenched and unclenched my fists. “Why didn’t you tell me it doesn’t do squat on your end when I block my magical link to you?”

Mr. Tom stooped in front of me, and his snobby butler’s facade slipped. “Ah. You clued in to the real nature of the link, I see.”

My anger burned brighter. “Yes, I did. You’ve all been keeping a very important piece of information from me.”

“It’s been a collective effort of sorts, yes, miss. We had sound reasoning to do it.”

“That right?” I glanced back at Jasper. “You may go.” Those words made it sound like he was a servant, which I didn’t love, but it was the nicest way I’d found to politely tell people to get lost. Otherwise there would be a four-letter word involved.

“Of course, miss,” Jasper mumbled, and regret curled through the link. He’d realized, belatedly, that the others had been purposefully keeping the link thing a secret.

“And what sort of sound reasoning would that be, Mr. Tom? What sort of sound reasoning would excuse anyone—everyone—for refusing to give me the same privacy I’ve given all of you?”

Niamh let herself into the house, having clearly scared off the mage.

“Let’s sit and talk about it, miss.” Mr. Tom gestured toward the front sitting room.

“I don’t want to sit and talk about it, Mr. Tom. I want to hear your very sound reasoning, and then I want to…do something horrible. Do you have CDs? I kind of want to scratch all your CDs.”

“Your honesty is refreshing, miss.” Mr. Tom sniffed. “But no, I have moved into the modern times digitally. You’ll have to find something else to ruin, I’m afraid.”

“What’s goin’ on?” Niamh asked.

Mr. Tom set the tray down on the side table further in the entryway, pushing aside an antique vase crawling with mustard leaves and tangerine thorns. “Miss has recently learned that she can only block her side of the magical link.”

“Ah.” Niamh backed up and leaned against the wall.

“Why didn’t anyone tell me?” I demanded, magic roiling within me. “Why? I look like an absolute fool! Jasper thought I was trying to pleasure him through the link, of all things. Can you even fathom how embarrassing that is?”

“No. What sort of eejit would think you’d give someone like him the time of day?” Niamh said, grossly missing the point.

Edgar opened the front door and popped his head in. “Is everything okay?”

I rounded on him. Before I could get a word out, his eyes widened and he ducked back out, slamming the door on himself to get away. Clearly he’d felt my anger.

I barely stopped myself from magically ripping the door open and dragging him back in with invisible hands just so I could yell at him, too. I was that mad. No, it wasn’t just anger. I felt embarrassed, betrayed. I’d been lied to this entire time by people I trusted. People I cared about. They’d collectively kept something big from me, and here I stood on the outside looking in, vulnerable.

“You’ve uncovered a grave error on my part, miss.” Mr. Tom bowed his head solemnly. “I did not take the new recruits—Jasper and Ulric—aside and explain how and when to deaden the link. They can set it up so the link automatically muffles when you’re engaged in certain activities, such as…personal time…” My face heated. I knew what he meant. “Locations can also deaden the link, like the bathroom. Ulric did mention that he’d figured out how to quiet the link for a little peace of mind. I can easily train them in ways to increase your privacy. You see? It isn’t as bad as you thought.”