Chapter Sixteen - Painful Memories

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“So, remind me again,” Sophie said, as she knelt on the grass of a small park. “Who is Rolo Freedom?”

Blue had taken them, one by one, to this place. The car was out of reach and probably destroyed, a fact which Chrysanthemum was still sulking about and Chrysanthemum sulked with worrying dignity and vindictive malice.

“He’s a guy,” Tala shrugged. “Middle-aged, I’d say. He’s a Sensitive.”

“Oh!” Sophie was startled. “I haven’t met one yet.”

“You haven’t missed much,” Blue grumbled.

Tala gave him a look. “But Rolo doesn’t work for the Society. He’s…just some guy with a lot of money and a lot of time.”

“Why is he looking after this girl?” Sophie asked. “What did Chrysanthemum mean, one of his charges?”

Tala looked awkward. “He…well, basically, he runs a magical mental asylum.”

Sophie took a step back. “This girl is insane?”

“A little bit,” Tala admitted. “But not severely. She’s just been…mistreated.”

“Oh, god,” Sophie moaned. “You’re sending me into a Necromancer temple to steal a precious document that we don’t even know exists with the help of a psycho?”

“Yes,” Chrysanthemum said, dryly, “because this is the kind of last resort we have to come to before anything sensible.”

“Zephyr isn’t mad,” Tala promised. “She just a bit odd. And a little bit messed up. But not severely. Not compared to some of the others.”

Sophie shuddered. “Let’s get this over with.”

Tala smiled. “This way.”

It was a large house, with sweeping arched windows and huge double-doors up a long drive. It looked out over parkland and a river, a mile or two from the town where Blue had taken them. Ivy grew up the walls and gargoyles colonised the upper floors.

“Wow,” Sophie breathed. “That’s one impressive place.”

“Dome House,” Tala nodded. “It’s been in the family for a long time. But Rolo isn’t like his ancestors. He wants to help people. So he made this place.”

“A mental asylum,” Sophie shook her head. “Why? I mean, do a lot of magicians go mad?”

The silence was answer enough.

“A lot?” Sophie blinked. “What percentage?”

 Blue laughed.

“Sixty-one per cent,” Chrysanthemum answered, “before the time they die. Mostly it’s just some kind of mental collapse, brought on by trauma or fear. Sometimes it’s permanent.”

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