JO PULLED HER hand back, running it along her jeans. She thought her hands felt. . . cold.

Pan’s were icy, like they were coated in a thin layer of frost that melted at Jo’s living touch. She wondered if it was some kind of residual magic, her mind instantly going back to Wayne. She really shouldn’t go making deals with magical people without first knowing what type of magic they had.

The young woman situated herself on the opposite desk, folding her ankles and leaning back nonchalantly. “What do you want to know?”

Jo already knew that “everything” would be too broad, and that Pan was likely on a timer for how much information she’d give. Jo chewed over how to phrase the question for a moment, trying to decide what was broad enough that she’d get the most information possible. “How did I affect the Severity of Exchange so much with my actions involving the Black Bank?”

“I’d think it’s obvious.”

“Maybe I’m stupid.”

“I doubt that.” Pan smiled thinly.

“Will you answer or not?”

The woman-child hummed and leaned back. “Well, the first thing you must understand is how the Severity of Exchange works.” Pan held up her thumb and pointer finger, peeking through them like a tiny window. “If it’s a little wish, like a wish made with a drawn circle, then Snow can grant it immediately.”

“A drawn circle?” The memory of something popped its nose up in the back of Jo’s mind. She couldn’t remember if it was something Abuelita had mentioned, or something she’d read online. “You mean, the circle that’s used to cast the wish?”

“You got it!” Pan clapped her hands, but the excitement felt distinctly condescending. “There are four levels. Circles that are drawn are for very simple wishes. Then there are circles made of non-living things, but still items of importance. Above that are those made with foliage and once-living things.”

“That can’t be right.” Pan seemed startled at Jo’s sudden interjection. She quickly clarified, “I drew my circle.”

“Yes, but with what?” The way Pan asked the question, it was almost as if she already knew the answer.

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, or death.”

“So, Snow can make wishes happen without extra help if they’re the first level?”

Pan nodded.

“What’s his power, really, then?” It sounded impressive, to be able to do such things in only a blink.

“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 even wishes.”

“Everything comes at a price,” Jo rephrased. It was an idea she was well acquainted with. “He feeds on worlds of possibilities.”

“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 on worlds.”

“How does he consume them?”

Pan merely shrugged.

“That’s not an answer.”

“It’s magic.” She smirked at Jo.

“Does he kill people?” Like he did with me?

“One, or thousands. It all depends on how you look at it.”

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 frigid air.

“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 anything more.

“So, me, and everyone else in the Society. . . we prevent these violent shifts?”

“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 unexpected outcomes.”

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 of Exchange?”

“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 mortal world.”

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 drown her.

Pan’s smile widened, like a cat that had finally found its mouse. “Why? Are you scared?”

“What will happen?” Jo asked again.

“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 going awry.”

“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 her neck.

“Snow and I are very close. I’m practically his righthand man. Or, woman, rather,” she corrected with a giggle.

“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 among them.

“Eslar?” Pan repeated, as if surprised. Jo wondered just how much time the woman really spent with the rest of them. “Why would he be? I’m the one who’s been with Snow the longest.”

Well, that threw out a significant chunk of what Jo thought she knew about the group. “What is the Society, really?”

“I think you’ve stopped asking the right questions,” Pan said with a tilt of her head.

“Back to Severity of Exchange then. . .” Jo reluctantly agreed. “How do I help lessen the Severity of Exchange for this wish?”

“For that—” Pan paused, the door taking her attention. “I think he’ll be able to help you.”

“Who?”

There was a knock. The door cracked open and Eslar poked his narrow nose through. “Am I interrupting?” His eyes darted from Pan to Jo.

“Nope.” Pan opened the door the rest of the way. “I was just leaving.”

Jo was distracted by a sudden smell: cinnamon-sugar, baked dough. It was familiar, so familiar that it made her chest ache, like being assaulted by the aromatic representation of home.

“Some other time, you’ll show me your magic,” Pan said, summoning back Jo’s focus. “Don’t forget our deal.”

The girl was gone before Jo could say anything further, leaving her alone with the elf and his familiar plate of pastries.