tell him. That hasn’t changed.”
“You deny that it’s getting worse?”
I didn’t say anything.
She made a notation.
“You turned away another petitioner, didn’t you?” Ivy asked. “They come to you for help.”
“I’m busy.”
“Doing what? Listening to gunshots? Going more mad?”
“I’m not going more mad,” I said. “I’ve stabilized. I’m practically normal. Even my non-hallucinatory psychiatrist acknowledges that.”
Ivy said nothing. In the distance, the gunshots finally stopped, and I sighed in relief, raising my fingers to my temples. “The formal definition of insanity,” I said, “is actually quite fluid. Two people can have the exact same condition, with the exact same severity, but one can be considered sane by the official standards while the other is considered insane . You cross the line into insanity when your mental state stops you from being able to function, from being able to have a normal life. By those standards, I’m not the least bit insane.”
“You call this a normal life?” she asked.
“It works well enough.” I glanced to the side. Ivy had covered up the wastebasket with a clipboard, as usual.
Tobias entered a few moments later. “That petitioner is still there, Stephen.”
“What?” Ivy said, giving me a glare. “You’re making the poor man wait? It’s been four hours .”
“All right, fine!” I leaped off the couch. “I’ll send him away.” I strode out of the room and down the steps to the ground floor, into the grand entryway.
Wilson, my butler—who is a real person, not a hallucination—stood outside the closed door to the sitting room. He looked over his bifocals at me.
“You too?” I asked.
“Four hours, master?”
“I had to get myself under control, Wilson.”
“You like to use that excuse, Master Leeds. One wonders if moments like this are a matter of laziness more than control.”
“You’re not paid to wonder things like that,” I said.
He raised an eyebrow, and I felt ashamed. Wilson didn’t deserve snappishness; he was an excellent servant, and an excellent person. It wasn’t easy to find house staff willing to put up with my . . . particularities.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I’ve been feeling a little worn down lately.”
“I will fetch you some lemonade, Master Leeds,” he said. “For . . .”
“Three of us,” I said, nodding to Tobias and Ivy—who, of course, Wilson couldn’t see. “Plus the petitioner.”
“No ice in mine, please,” Tobias said.
“I’ll have a glass of water instead,” Ivy added.
“No ice for Tobias,” I said, absently pushing open the door. “Water for Ivy.”
Wilson nodded, off to do as requested. He was a good butler. Without him, I think I’d go insane.
A young man in a polo shirt and slacks waited in the sitting room. He leaped up from one of the chairs. “Master Legion?”
I winced at the nickname. That had been chosen by a particularly gifted psychologist. Gifted in dramatics, that is. Not really so much in the psychology department.
“Call me Stephen,” I said, holding the door for Ivy and Tobias. “What can we do for you?”
“We?” the boy asked.
“Figure of speech,” I said, walking into the room and taking one of the chairs across from the young man.
“I . . . uh . . . I hear you help people, when nobody else will.” The boy swallowed. “I brought two thousand. Cash.” He tossed an envelope with my name and address on it onto the table.
“That’ll buy you a consultation,” I said, opening it and doing a quick count.
Tobias gave me a look. He hates it when I charge people, but you don’t get a mansion with enough rooms to hold all your hallucinations by working for free. Besides, judging from his clothing, this kid could afford it.
“What’s the problem?” I asked.
“My fiancée,” the young man said, taking something out of his pocket. “She’s been cheating on me.”
“My condolences,” I said. “But we’re not
“You deny that it’s getting worse?”
I didn’t say anything.
She made a notation.
“You turned away another petitioner, didn’t you?” Ivy asked. “They come to you for help.”
“I’m busy.”
“Doing what? Listening to gunshots? Going more mad?”
“I’m not going more mad,” I said. “I’ve stabilized. I’m practically normal. Even my non-hallucinatory psychiatrist acknowledges that.”
Ivy said nothing. In the distance, the gunshots finally stopped, and I sighed in relief, raising my fingers to my temples. “The formal definition of insanity,” I said, “is actually quite fluid. Two people can have the exact same condition, with the exact same severity, but one can be considered sane by the official standards while the other is considered insane . You cross the line into insanity when your mental state stops you from being able to function, from being able to have a normal life. By those standards, I’m not the least bit insane.”
“You call this a normal life?” she asked.
“It works well enough.” I glanced to the side. Ivy had covered up the wastebasket with a clipboard, as usual.
Tobias entered a few moments later. “That petitioner is still there, Stephen.”
“What?” Ivy said, giving me a glare. “You’re making the poor man wait? It’s been four hours .”
“All right, fine!” I leaped off the couch. “I’ll send him away.” I strode out of the room and down the steps to the ground floor, into the grand entryway.
Wilson, my butler—who is a real person, not a hallucination—stood outside the closed door to the sitting room. He looked over his bifocals at me.
“You too?” I asked.
“Four hours, master?”
“I had to get myself under control, Wilson.”
“You like to use that excuse, Master Leeds. One wonders if moments like this are a matter of laziness more than control.”
“You’re not paid to wonder things like that,” I said.
He raised an eyebrow, and I felt ashamed. Wilson didn’t deserve snappishness; he was an excellent servant, and an excellent person. It wasn’t easy to find house staff willing to put up with my . . . particularities.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I’ve been feeling a little worn down lately.”
“I will fetch you some lemonade, Master Leeds,” he said. “For . . .”
“Three of us,” I said, nodding to Tobias and Ivy—who, of course, Wilson couldn’t see. “Plus the petitioner.”
“No ice in mine, please,” Tobias said.
“I’ll have a glass of water instead,” Ivy added.
“No ice for Tobias,” I said, absently pushing open the door. “Water for Ivy.”
Wilson nodded, off to do as requested. He was a good butler. Without him, I think I’d go insane.
A young man in a polo shirt and slacks waited in the sitting room. He leaped up from one of the chairs. “Master Legion?”
I winced at the nickname. That had been chosen by a particularly gifted psychologist. Gifted in dramatics, that is. Not really so much in the psychology department.
“Call me Stephen,” I said, holding the door for Ivy and Tobias. “What can we do for you?”
“We?” the boy asked.
“Figure of speech,” I said, walking into the room and taking one of the chairs across from the young man.
“I . . . uh . . . I hear you help people, when nobody else will.” The boy swallowed. “I brought two thousand. Cash.” He tossed an envelope with my name and address on it onto the table.
“That’ll buy you a consultation,” I said, opening it and doing a quick count.
Tobias gave me a look. He hates it when I charge people, but you don’t get a mansion with enough rooms to hold all your hallucinations by working for free. Besides, judging from his clothing, this kid could afford it.
“What’s the problem?” I asked.
“My fiancée,” the young man said, taking something out of his pocket. “She’s been cheating on me.”
“My condolences,” I said. “But we’re not
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