Tricks for Free (InCryptid #7)

“What happened today—”

“I didn’t do it.” I couldn’t even be angry that she had sort of asked. I would have asked, too, if our positions had been reversed. “I was having lunch when I heard the screams and went to see what was going on. The explosion had already happened. I burned my hands when I started pulling the heat out of her to try and reduce her injuries.” My fingers throbbed in sympathy with the memory. I grimaced. “I’m hoping I don’t need to do that again for a really long time. This hurts.”

“Doing the right thing often does,” said Mary. She looked at Fern. “Your roommate’s a sorceress and I’m her dead aunt. Is that okay? Have we covered the situation? Because I’d like to move on before the other roommate gets home.”

“We have about three hours,” I said.

“I’m fine,” said Fern. “This is sort of a lot? But I’ve already been through sort of a lot, so I guess it’s more for the pile.”

“Cryptid therapists must make so much money,” I said.

Fern’s expression was grim. “You have no idea.”

“Here.” Mary thrust a plate of chicken and the associated sides at me. “Take. Eat. Explain. Or I swear to God, I will haunt you so hard that you will never sleep, shower, or have sex again.”

“I don’t seem to be doing enough of any of those things at the moment, so I’m not feeling the threat, but I’ll explain.” I took the plate, moving down the counter before putting it down and clumsily picking up my fork. Bending my fingers even that much hurt. I still needed to eat, and I didn’t want Mary deciding that it was time to bring the airplane out of retirement.

(Virtually everyone has to deal with people who knew them when they were babies, and will bring up awkward things like “hey, remember when you ran through the dinner party naked?” or “hey, remember how I used to pretend your fork was an airplane when you didn’t want to eat your beets?” But most people understand that age is a real thing that happens to everyone. Mary . . . doesn’t, so much. She knows the kids she cares for eventually turn into adults and have children of their own, and intellectually, she understands that this means we’re not her charges anymore. Emotionally, she’s been a sixteen-year-old girl since the day she died, and she’ll stay that way until she moves on to whatever comes next for dead babysitters who serve the spirits at the crossroads. For her, we will always be children, and we will always need her to tuck us into bed and turn off our bedroom lights. There’s something soothing about that. There’s also something really sad. In my family, the two often go hand in hand.)

Fern got her own plate and came to stand beside me, expression expectant, like she’d been waiting for this particular iteration of story time for years. I put my plate on the counter and took a deep breath.

“Lowryland is secretly being controlled by a cabal of witches and magic-users, and they want to train me so that I’ll be less of a danger to myself and others,” I said.

“Huh?” said Fern.

Mary’s eyes narrowed. “What kind of witches and magic-users?”

“There’s at least one routewitch and one trainspotter, and there’s a man with a wand who says he can teach me how to control whatever the hell it is I have going on, so I’m assuming he’s a sorcerer like Grandpa was.” I took a bite of mashed potatoes, since they didn’t require chewing, swallowed, and said, “I’m going to let him teach me. I don’t see where I have much of a choice.”

“Neither do I,” said Mary.

Fern was looking back and forth between us, seeming increasingly dismayed. “What do you mean, you don’t have a choice?” she squeaked. “You don’t know these people! What if they get too interested in you, and find out about Megan and me?”

“They already know,” said Mary wearily.

Fern and I both turned to stare at her.

Mary shook her head. “People like that . . . you called them a cabal. That’s not a word I hear you use all that often. Did they use it first?”

I nodded.

“There you go. People who call themselves a ‘cabal’ are usually very interested in keeping an eye on the territory they’ve decided to stake out as their own. In this case, Lowryland. There’s no way they don’t know about any nonhumans who live or work here. They probably know about the ones who just come to the Park to spend a day with their kids.”

Fern looked ill. “They know? We have to warn people.”

“Why?” Fern turned to look at me. I did my best to sound reassuring as I said, “If they know, they could have done something about it a long time ago. I know routewitches can ward against ghosts, but Mary can visit me here and at work. They probably have at least some influence over hiring decisions, and you still got your job, and Megan still got her residency. The Covenant hunts witches, too, when they can find them. These people aren’t the same as you, but maybe they’re not the enemy either.”

“And if they are, learning how not to burn the building down is still a good thing,” said Mary. “You said they had a trainspotter. How strong?”

“He’s drawing power from the roller coasters, so . . . probably pretty strong? He couldn’t pick up my real name by looking at me. I’ve spent too many years as Melody for that to be a quick trick.”

“Well, it’s best if you try to avoid him, and any other trainspotters they have, just to be sure.”

Fern frowned. “What’s a trainspotter?”

“Do you know what a routewitch is?” asked Mary.

“No.”

“Okay. Trainspotters are a sort of routewitch. Routewitches draw power from travel, usually on the highway, but any form of travel will do. They’re the most powerful of the journey magicians in general. Trainspotters only get power from trains. They need to be surrounded by a shell of manmade machine that someone else controls for them to tap into whatever the universe is trying to tell them. Interestingly, this makes them better at scrying, at picking apart the threads of reality and seeing what’s true and underneath them. If the Covenant knew how to work with trainspotters without killing them, we’d all be in trouble.”

Fern looked at me. I shrugged. “You can’t keep a trainspotter captive without breaking their connection to the rails,” I said. “The Covenant has their magic-users, but as far as I know, they’ve never managed to catch a road witch of any sort, and certainly not a trainspotter.”

“They’ve had a few umbramancers, and those are technically journey magicians,” said Mary. “That’s neither here nor there. Annie, if you’re going to work with these people, you have to avoid the trainspotter.”

“That shouldn’t be too hard.” Privately, I wasn’t so sure. I had no idea how their structure worked.

But that woman nearly died today, and she was going to need years of surgery and physical therapy before she could recover, assuming she ever truly would. If I’d been better able to control the fire, I might have spared her at least some of that suffering. I definitely wouldn’t have burned my hands. Whether it was a good idea or not, I needed the training, and these were the only people who were offering it to me.

“They must have some powerful wards on their headquarters,” said Mary. “That would explain why you blinked out like that. As soon as you were on their home ground, you were hidden from everyone who might be looking for you. Even me.”

“And you’re a family ghost,” I said, with a frown. “This is good, though. If you can’t find me, the Covenant can’t find me.”

“You can’t hide in their space forever.”

“No, but it’s good to know that I have someplace to run where the Covenant won’t be able to stick a pin in me.” I took a bite of chicken, actually chewing this time before I said, “I’m going to let him train me. The fire is getting stronger, and I’m having more and more trouble keeping it under control. I’ll be a danger to myself and others if I don’t figure this out soon.”

“I’m not going to stop you,” said Mary. “But I have three requests, and none of them are negotiable.”