Tricks for Free (InCryptid #7)

Two things were immediately clear. First, that he really, really wanted me to agree to let him train me. All of them were looking at me with avarice in their eyes, like dogs considering a platter of steaks on the way to the barbecue. They were a cabal of grown adults with control over their powers, and for some reason, adding an untrained baby magic-user to their ranks was the best idea any of them could come up with. That unnerved me.

The second thing was even more unnerving. Specifically, that there were five of them—six if I was counting Emily—and only one of me, and Florida is a state rich with swamps and alligators, aka, “Nature’s body disposal service.” If I refused them, my employment might not be all that was terminated.

“What do I have to do?” I asked.

Wand Guy smiled.



* * *





Fern sat in the corner of a small, unwelcoming room. The walls were painted electric yellow, and there was a vending machine packed with Lowry-branded snack offerings next to her chair, but those were the only concessions to the location: the room itself could have been part of any DMV or government office in the country. It was the sort of featureless, windowless place where people were sent to be forgotten about.

Her head snapped up when the door opened, and her whole face brightened when she saw that it was me. Then it closed off, leaving her wary and displeased. “An—Melody!” she said, barely catching herself in time. “I told you that you didn’t need to come.”

I winced at the first syllable of my real name, resisting the urge to look over my shoulder and check Emily’s expression. If she didn’t realize Fern had been starting to call me something else, I might get out of here without any more awkward conversations. That would be a nice change.

“Of course I came,” I said, and held up the bag I’d been carrying since leaving the house. “I have my post-shift change of clothes if you want to borrow them. Also, I have a hairbrush.”

“You are my favorite,” said Fern, and lunged for the bag. She was exhausted from being up all night: when she moved, it was with the odd floating quality that only really kicked in when she’d started lowering her density to keep herself from falling down.

“I try.” This time I did look over my shoulder at Emily. “Is this an okay place for my roommate to change, or should we head for a bathroom?”

“I’ll be outside,” said Emily. “Ms. Vargas-Jackson will be giving both of you a ride the rest of the way to the Park, and I’ll get those time slips for you.”

“Thanks,” I said, with all the sincerity I could muster. It was more than half a mile from here to the employee entrance to Lowryland—even the backstage areas were enormous, thanks to the scope of the Park they supported. Getting a ride rather than catching a tram would probably shave half an hour off the trip.

(We weren’t lazy. Lazy people don’t work at Lowryland. But we were about to go and spend what remained of our shifts on our feet, and there was a non-zero chance our respective managers would ask us to stay late and make up what we’d missed, official note from the PR department or no. Any walking we didn’t have to do was a good thing.)

Fern was staring at Emily, eyes wide and as wonder-struck as those of the children who came to see her every day in all her princess glory. “Time slips? Really?”

“Really,” said Emily, with the sort of smug, patronizing smile that I’d come to expect from Lowryland management. “I’m sure if you ask Melody, she’ll share.” Then she was out, shutting the door behind herself as she left us alone.

Fern looked at me. I shook my head. This space looked empty, but that didn’t make it safe. Cameras can be small. Listening devices can be smaller. Was I being paranoid? Sure. That didn’t mean that I was wrong.

“They’re giving me a whole booklet of time slips to apologize for pulling me off my shift this morning,” I said, finally surrendering the bag to Fern’s questing hands. She retreated back to her seat, hauling the bag open and starting to strip in essentially the same motion. I leaned up against the wall. We’d been on the same roller derby team. Our bodies held no secrets.

No visible ones, anyway. Fern didn’t know about my little magical problem. It had seemed like a step too far. “Hi, having me as your roommate might bring the Covenant of St. George down on your head, and oh, by the way, sometimes I set things on fire without meaning to?” No. That wasn’t a conversation I’d been willing to have.

I was going to need to have it now.

“Can I have some?” she asked, shedding her old bra and rubbing a deodorant stick under her arms and breasts before starting to put the new bra on.

“Of course,” I said. “I don’t know whether they’re going to be fours or sixes, but I can give you a couple either way.” Time slips were one of the many ways Lowryland management pitted us against each other, like we were fighting chickens in the farmyard of life. Each piece of carefully watermarked and uncopiable paper was good for two, four, or six hours of vacation time, and they trumped even mandatory attendance policies. A whole book of time slips was a great big slice of freedom pie.

On some level, I wanted to keep the whole book for myself. I’m only human, after all, and time slips could buy that most precious of commodities, free time during Park hours, when the stores off-property would actually be open. I could go to Target. I could shop for groceries, rather than trusting Megan and her idiosyncratic ideas about vegetables—specifically, that they were what food eats, and not food themselves—to fill the fridge.

But training with Colin, aka “Wand Guy,” was likely to mean some changes to my work shifts, and my coworkers already didn’t like me much. Spending my time slips on keeping the peace was probably for the best, even if I would prefer not to.

Fern, who would need to do her hair and makeup in the dressing room where her full costume waited for her, had already finished dressing. She looked at me expectantly.

“Have you eaten?” I asked.

“They had bagels in the room where they were going over my story,” she said.

“Okay. Are you ready to get out of here?”

Fern nodded firmly.

If there had been any question of whether we were being monitored, that answered it. As soon as Fern nodded, the door swung open, and there was Emily, now with Sophie standing behind her. Sophie looked confused, even slightly concerned, which was something of a relief. She wasn’t a part of this secret cabal that seemed to be in charge of the place: she was just someone I’d gone to high school with who happened to have been in the right place to help me when I needed her. I wasn’t sure my heart could have handled finding out that Sophie had been lying to me all this time.

Sure, I’d been lying to her since the day we met, but I’ve never claimed not to have a hypocrite heart.

“I assume you’re both ready to go?” asked Emily.

We nodded. She turned to Sophie.

“Miss West has been very helpful,” said Emily. “We appreciate your bringing her here to review last night’s events. We’ve found no wrongdoing on the part of either employee, and they’re both well aware of the injunctions preventing them from speaking to either members of the press or the general public. Everyone’s a blogger these days. Even the six-year-olds could be tiny public relations disasters in princess dresses and pigtails.”

That was probably aimed at me. With one thing and another, I hadn’t actually been given the “don’t talk to anybody” lecture like I was supposed to have been. At least I had common sense enough to know better without anyone telling me.

“We appreciate your taking the time,” said Sophie.

“I know,” said Emily. Her hands moved too fast to follow, and like another card trick, she was suddenly holding two books of time slips, one stamped with a four and the other with the all-powerful, endlessly coveted six. She held them out, the four toward Fern, the six toward me. “As promised.”

It was hard not to feel like I was being bribed, and even harder to care. I took the booklet, fighting hard not to snatch it out of her hand, and tucked it into my front pocket, where I wouldn’t lose it. “We’re ready to go if you are.”