Tricks for Free (InCryptid #7)

“‘Need’ is a big word, little girl,” said a voice—a new voice, buzzing and sharp as a cicada’s whine, devoid of all humanity. I turned.

Behind me stood a figure made of absence. It was neither light nor shadow, neither form nor void: instead, it was nothing at all, a bend in the landscape that somehow created the impression of a person. Only it was more substantial than that at the same time, pulling tricks of the horizon into itself, becoming present in a way that should have been impossible. I wanted to step back, away. I wanted to flee. Every animal instinct I had was screaming at me to do exactly that, to risk death by water rather than whatever this figure had in store.

But Sam was out there somewhere, marooned in the drowning dark. He needed me. Fern, Megan, and Cylia were out there, captives of people who would never have known they existed if I hadn’t intervened. They needed me. Running away might have been the instinctive option, but it wasn’t mine. Not anymore. I had given that away once I started assembling people who depended on me. My parents had raised me to survive, but not at the expense of my allies.

Guess there’s something to being the one who comes after the heir and the spare. Even if I fucked up bad, the family would endure.

“I’m here to make a deal,” I said.

The shape that was and wasn’t a person somehow smiled. “I thought you might be,” it purred. It looked past me to Mary, smile blossoming into a triumphant grin. “We get another one. You kept your precious pets away from us for generations, and now we get another one. How’s that make you feel, Mary-girl? You feel like moving on yet? Let us get another ghost. You’re about used up.”

“It makes me feel like I’m still needed, and like I’ll be damned before I leave my family alone with you,” snapped Mary, stepping up and resting her hand on my shoulder. There was an electric current in her skin that crackled and burned where it touched me. It was oddly reassuring to have her there, like her presence meant nothing was going to touch me without going through her first. “I am her advocate in this negotiation. I speak for her.”

“Seems to me there isn’t going to be much of a negotiation,” said the shape. It was still smiling. Even looking at that impossible expression hurt my mind. “She’s already told me what she needs. She’s a greedy one, asking for three things when most people come here asking for one.”

“She’s only requesting two,” said Mary, shooting me a look that warned me not to argue. “The lives. She can perform the rescue herself, as long as she survives.”

“His survival and mine are the same thing,” I said, picking up the thread of her argument. “The water took us both.”

The shape turned its eyes on me, smile fading, and I revised my earlier impression of its smile as the most terrifying thing about it. Its calm regard was a hundred times worse.

“No,” it said. “You haven’t drowned yet. You’re light, buoyant—you’re human. The man you ask after is different. His own bones weigh him down. He’s further gone than you are, Healy child, Price girl, and he hasn’t much time. Don’t let your friendly ghost trick you into a slow negotiation. She has her own agenda as much as you or I do, and she’ll only stop you from saving him.”

Mary’s hand tightened needlessly on my shoulder. I recognized a trick when I heard one. Still, it took everything I had to draw a shuddering, impossible breath, and smile, keeping my expression as close as I could to serene.

“I think it’s important that we do this the right way,” I said.

The shape continued to look at me. “Your grandfather sold his future for your grandmother’s breath, you know,” it said. “People have probably been telling you how much you remind them of him your whole life. How surprised they’d be, to see you here! Or maybe not surprised at all. Maybe they knew this was inevitable from the moment you first cried. You were always going to come to us. You were always going to walk the road already drawn for you. We only wonder why you took so long.”

“You didn’t have anything I needed,” I said. “I need to live. I need Sam to live.”

“Ah,” said the shape. “But what will you pay?”

“I brokered the deal between Thomas Price and the crossroads for the life of Alice Healy,” said Mary. “I witnessed its clauses. You are not allowed to take back what has been given. Her life is not a part of this deal.”

I glanced at Mary, startled. She didn’t look at me. All her attention was on the shape, jaw set, expression grim. She looked like she was fighting a battle I wasn’t equipped to understand, and I realized I didn’t want to understand it. I wanted to survive it. I wanted to save my friends. That was all.

The shape glared at her without eyes, irritation crackling in the air around it. “Fine,” it said sullenly. “Alice Healy’s life is off the table. Still. The latest apple of her orchard requests two boons of us—three, if you’d let her. We have the right to demand payment.”

“Not in blood,” said Mary.

“Not in her blood,” corrected the shape.

“Not in Sam’s blood either,” I said. They both turned to me. It was hard to shake the feeling that I wasn’t supposed to open my mouth during this discussion. I swallowed hard and said, “I’m not bargaining for his life just so you can kill him afterward.”

“No blood from you, no blood from him . . . why should I give you anything at all?” The shape sneered. “Our little maidservant reminds me that we can’t kill your grandmother, however much we may want to. So? All I have to do is refuse to deal and you’re dead, drowned and gone and washed away. That would be plenty. We could have our revenge without raising a finger.”

“Not a very satisfying revenge, though,” I said. “I mean, really? Your revenge on my grandfather is letting me drown? Not proving him wrong by making a deal with me and tormenting him in the great beyond?”

The shape seemed amused as it asked, “The great beyond? You mean the afterlife?”

“Yes.” I paused. “Wait—do you mean he isn’t dead?”

“Your grandfather’s fate would be a different deal, and a much dearer one.” The shape took a step closer, suddenly predatory, suddenly crackling with menace. “Would you prefer it?”

“No,” I said firmly. “I need to live. I need to save Sam.”

“She will not pay in blood,” said Mary. “Remember that.”

The shape shot her a sour look. “We erred when we saved you from the shade,” it said. “Yes. I remember. She will not pay in blood. But she is a child of her bloodline, isn’t she? I can feel it in the air around her. She allowed her magic to be half-severed and removed from her once before . . .”

The shape didn’t have to finish its sentence for me to know what it was going to charge me. Instead of alarm, I felt . . . relief. All I did with my magic was destroy things. I was a menace without someone to teach me, and look what had happened when I’d accepted an offer of education. At least if the crossroads stole the fire from my fingers, they wouldn’t be setting up a funnel to drain the energy of everyone around them. Mary wouldn’t let it happen.

Mary frowned. “Not forever,” she said.

The shape looked amused. “Why not, little ghost? What possible reason could you have for such a restriction?”

“She’s not asking for immortality. Taking her magic forever when her life is constantly in danger would go against the spirit of the agreement—or do you want it known that you would cheat those who petition you?” The corner of Mary’s mouth twitched in the beginnings of a smile. “You would, of course. Everyone knows you would. But knowing and having proof are very different things.”