Tricks for Free (InCryptid #7)

“Do you have any idea how hard it is to raise a child, to make him happy and healthy and secure in himself, when you know every minute that the world is full of people who would hurt him if they could, all because of things he didn’t choose? I love my boy. I love him for who and what he is, and I wouldn’t change it. But that girl was every nightmare I’ve had in the past twenty years all wrapped up in one.”

“Her name is Antimony,” said Mary. “She saved you. I won’t ask you to be grateful, because it seems like that would be pushing it, but I will ask you to be respectful. She’s earned that much. Sam?”

“Uh, yeah?”

“If you need me, call. I always hear when my kids call, and I’ll do my best to come. I can find you.” Mary took one last look at Emery, and then she was gone.

“Oh, God.” Emery put her hands over her face. “What have I done?”

Sam didn’t answer.



* * *





MINDY


We squeezed our bodies beneath the door, the weight of my belly making the task more difficult than it should have been. It was good, that we undertook this journey now: had we waited, I might have found myself unable to move easily through the airport, and all would have been lost.

On the other side of the door, the floor was covered in dull red carpet, and smelled of many feet. It had been cleaned recently, for there were no smells more than a few hours old, and yet it had already been transformed into a highway of informative filth.

Humans walk through a world filled with information they can neither access nor understand. I pity them for that, even as I rejoice that we have something that they do not, that we can be useful. Some of the people who had passed through this place had come from home. Their footsteps left traces of Portland soil, of Portland flora, behind. But unless we wished to track them down, presume they were visitors to this place and would be returning home in the fullness of time, and stay with them until their pilgrimages ended, knowing where people had been was of less use.

Long stretches of wall were exposed, leaving no cover. But people walked in all directions towing small cases behind them. If we timed this correctly . . .

“Follow me,” I said. Mork nodded, and we moved to the edge of the large metal rack which offered our current concealment. A woman in very tall shoes walked by, towing a black bag with many zippers. I ran, leaping to the side and climbing onto the top. Mork did the same. The woman did not notice, but walked on, pulling us with her.

Humans are predators, for all that they prefer their food pre-killed and packaged for their convenience: motion catches their eyes more than any other thing. Having made it to the safety of her bag, we were likely to remain safe until needs forced us to move again. I held my whiskers perfectly still, forbade my ears to flick, and focused only on charting our surroundings. We would need to be able to navigate this airport if we were to transverse it without unnecessary difficulty.

“Look,” breathed Mork. I turned my head the smallest of fractions, and beheld what had captured his attention: a black rectangle hung high on the wall, covered with numbers, times, and the names of cities.

Our helpful transport was no longer so helpful. We were passing a row of empty seats. I leapt, Mork close behind me, and no one screamed or threw anything, leaving me to believe that we had once more escaped notice. It couldn’t last forever. I was going to take full advantage while I could, for did not the Violent Priestess say, lo, The Best Offense Is a Sneak Attack?

According to the board, there were four flights departing for Portland within the next two hours. One—the soonest—was on the opposite side of the airport. I dismissed it as an option. By the time we could make our way there, the plane would likely have departed, and then we would be too far from the other three. Each of the other flights presented its own disadvantages. I bristled my whiskers.

“Have you any scripture?” I asked.

“Not . . . not that you would know,” said Mork awkwardly.

I glanced at him. “You speak of a Priestess known to the Lost Colony?”

“The Obedient Priestess.”

“Ah,” I breathed. “We know her as a child. We were denied the glory of knowing her as a woman. What would she have said?”

“She did say, lo, Aim For The Middle, For When You Strike True, It Is a Bullseye, and When You Miss, There Is Much More Target.”

“So be it,” I said, unable to stop the thrill that ran down my spine as I heard new holy words, words we had been so long ignorant of. “Truly, she was wise, and we will be enriched beyond all measure by growing to know her better. The second departing flight, then. If we can achieve it, we will be home before the clock strikes nine. If we cannot, we will take the next. Thus will we chip away at our obstacles, and find ourselves well-redeemed.”

The second flight was in the same part of the airport as our current hiding place, if the numbers on the gates were to be considered accurate: we would still need to travel a great distance, but it was not overly ambitious, nor beyond our means. We could do this.

We would do this.

A man walked by, heading in the direction we needed to go, toting another case like the one we had ridden before. I glanced to Mork, flicked an ear, and leapt. He leapt with me, into the next step on our adventure; into the future.



* * *





SAM


“I don’t hate you, but I’m not going to let you draw anti-possession wards all around the border of my hotel room, and even if I wanted to let you, you wouldn’t do it, because we can’t afford to have the room cleaned,” said Sam, for what felt like the fifty-seventh time. “Mary didn’t try to possess me. Not once. She looked at me sort of like I was six years old and needed to learn how to clean my room, but that doesn’t feel like a precursor to possession. A time-out, maybe. She’s a babysitter.”

“You don’t understand the forces you’re toying with, Sam,” snapped Emery.

Sam relaxed a little. If he was back to “Sam” instead of “Samuel,” she was calming down. Anti-possession wards notwithstanding. “I understand that she cares about Annie, and that she’s actively looking for her, which means I don’t have to. I want her to keep coming around, if only so I can sleep at night.”

Emery paused. “What do you mean?”

“I met a girl, Grandma. A girl who liked me. Liked me-liked me, not just ‘better be nice to the boss’s son.’ She kissed me when I was like this, you know?” He waved a hand, indicating all of himself. “She didn’t pull back or ask if she was going to get fur in her mouth or say anything weird about how kissing a dude with a tail was sort of kinky. I know you love me, I know you don’t care, but my dating life has never been totally awesome. Human girls get weird.”

They had done more than kiss while he was relaxed enough not to look human anymore. Somehow, he didn’t think his grandmother would appreciate hearing that. He was also pretty sure Annie wouldn’t appreciate him telling that, and while she was probably hundreds of miles away playing roller derby under an assumed name, Mary was only ever a thought from smacking him in the back of the head.

Having ghosts around sure was a good way to learn how to watch his mouth.

“I don’t like her,” said Emery. “She’s a Price. She’ll only get you hurt.”

“I don’t think you need to like her, Grandma,” he said. “I’m pretty sure the only one here who needs to like her is me. And I like her plenty.”

“She’s dangerous.”

“I’m dangerous.”