The House in the Cerulean Sea(11)

Jowls sniffled. “Is that so? Where is that from? It sounds familiar.”

“It’s from RULES AND REGULATIONS,” Handsome said. “And I should hope you recognize it. You wrote most of it.”

Jowls blew his nose into his kerchief. “Indeed. I knew that.”

“Why is it important to maintain a degree of separation?” the woman asked, still staring down at him.

“Because it wouldn’t do to get attached to the children I work with,” Linus said. “I’m there to make sure the orphanages I inspect are kept in tip-top shape, and nothing more. Their welfare is important, but as a whole. Individual interaction is frowned upon. It could color my perception.”

“But you do interview the children,” Handsome said.

“Yes,” Linus agreed. “I do. But one can be professional while dealing with magical youth.”

“Have you ever recommended the closing of an orphanage in your seventeen years, Mr. Baker?” the bespectacled man asked.

They had to already know the answer. “Yes. Five times.”

“Why?”

“The environments weren’t safe.”

“So, you do care.”

Linus was getting flustered. “I never said I didn’t. I merely do what is required of me. There’s a difference between forming attachments and being empathetic. These children … They have no one else. It’s the reason they’re in the orphanages to begin with. They shouldn’t have to lay their heads down at night with an empty stomach, or worry about being worked to the bone. Just because these orphans must be kept separate from normal children doesn’t mean they should be treated any differently. All children, no matter their … disposition or what they’re capable of, must be protected regardless of the cost.”

Jowls coughed wetly. “Do you really think so?”

“Yes.”

“And what became of the children in the orphanages you closed?”

Linus blinked. “That’s a matter for Supervision. I make my recommendation, and the Supervisor handles what comes next. Most likely they’re placed in the schools that DICOMY runs.”

Handsome sat back in his chair. He looked at the others around him. “He’s perfect.”

“I agree,” Jowls said. “There’s really no other choice for something so … sensitive.”

The bespectacled man stared down at Linus. “Do you understand discretion, Mr. Baker?”

Linus felt insulted. “I work with classified youth on a daily basis,” he retorted, more sharply than he intended. “I’m a vault. Nothing gets out.”

“And it appears nothing gets in,” the woman said. “He’ll do.”

“Forgive me, but might I ask what exactly you’re talking about? I’ll do for what?”

Handsome rubbed a hand over his face. “What is said next doesn’t leave this room, Mr. Baker. Do you understand? This is classified level four.”

Linus took in a stuttering breath. Classified level four was the highest classification. He’d known it existed in theory, but was unaware that it was actually in use. He’d only had a classified level three case once before, and it been most troubling. There’d been a girl in an orphanage who had turned out to be a banshee, a herald of death. DICOMY had been summoned once she started telling all of the other children they were going to die. The problem turned out to be, of course, that she’d been right. The master of the orphanage had decided to use the children as part of a pagan sacrifice. Linus had barely escaped with the children and his life. He’d been given a two-day vacation after that one, the most time off he’d had in years.

“Why me?” he asked, voice barely above a whisper.

“Because there’s really no one else we can trust,” the woman said simply.

That should have filled Linus with a sense of pride. Instead, he felt nothing but dread curling in his stomach.

“Think of this as more of a checkup,” the bespectacled man said. “We haven’t received word of any wrongdoing, but the orphanage you’ll be going to is … It’s special, Mr. Baker. The orphanage is nontraditional, and the six children who live there are different than anything else you’ve seen before, some more than others. They’re … problematic.”

“Problematic? What’s that supposed to—”

“Your job will be to make sure everything is on the up-and-up,” Handsome said, a small smile on his face. “It’s important, you see. The master of this specific orphanage, one Arthur Parnassus, is certainly qualified, but we have … concerns. The six children are of the more extreme variety, and we must make sure that Mr. Parnassus continues to be capable of managing them. One would be a handful, but six of them?”

Linus wracked his brain. He was sure he’d heard of all of the masters in the region, but—“I’ve never heard of Mr. Parnassus.”

“No, I don’t suppose you have,” the woman said. “But that’s why it’s classified level four. If you had, it would mean we had a leak. We don’t do well with leaks, Mr. Baker. Is that understood? Leaks need to be plugged. Swiftly.”

“Yes, yes,” he said hastily. “Of course. I would never—”

“Of course you wouldn’t,” Jowls said. “It’s part of the reason why you were chosen. One month, Mr. Baker. You will spend one month on the island where the orphanage is located. We will expect weekly reports. Anything that raises alarms must be reported immediately.”