Page 32 of Tricks for Free

“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.”

“Okay,” I said. “Shoot.”

“First, you call for me immediately after every session you have. I may not always be able to come. I’ll hear you, and I’ll know that you’re all right.”

“Deal.”

“Second, if you wind up alone with that trainspotter—with any trainspotter, at any point—you run. I don’t care if you have to abandon everything you own, you run. There’s too much about you that no one needs to know.”

I looked at her and nodded silently. Mary will protect me to the ends of the Earth and beyond. I’ve always known that about her. But if it’s a choice between just me and the rest of the family, she’s going to take the option that saves the most of us. She has the luxury of knowing that death is not the end. If she had to leave me in the path of a moving truck to pull both my siblings to safety, she’d just get to spend a few years teaching me how to be a better ghost. Not the worst thing that’s ever happened.

“Third . . .” Mary took a deep, unnecessary breath, held it for a moment, and let it out before saying, “You don’t have enough backup. You need more. You need to let me tell Sam where to find you.”

“Absolutely not,” I said. “Out of the question. I ran away from him so he wouldn’t be in danger.”

“Oh, and not because you were afraid that Antimony Price, the Ice Queen, might be starting to thaw?”

Fern put her hand up. “Who’s Sam?”

“A friend,” I said, as Mary said, “Annie’s boyfriend.” We stopped and glared at each other across the counter, which wasn’t doing nearly enough to provide either one of us with cover.

Fern blinked. “Annie has a boyfriend?”

“Yes,” said Mary, and “No,” I said, again at the same time, again followed by glaring.

“Huh,” said Fern. She paused before asking, more delicately, “Has he actually met you when you were being you, or did he only ever meet you when you were pretending to be somebody else? Because you can be really sweet when you’re pretending to be somebody else.”

I threw a biscuit at her.

Fern laughed as she dodged. “You’re only angry because it’s true.”

“No, it’s not; I was myself the whole time I knew Sam.” Or at least a version of myself. A version who didn’t have anything to worry about beyond the borders of a carnival, and a boy who might have loved her, if he’d only been given the time. “And we’re not calling him here. It’s not safe.”

“It isn’t safe for anyone,” said Mary. “Not Fern, not me, and certainly not you. Why should it be any different for Sam?”

“Because . . .” I hesitated. “Because he didn’t ask for any of this.”

Mary’s smile was small, and sad. “Oh, peaches,” she said. “You think any of us did?”

The phone rang. We all turned to look at it.

It was a small idiosyncrasy in the Lowryland housing rules that every household had to include a fixed landline. We could all have cellphones—we were expected to, and those of us who lived on-property but had bad or absent credit could finance them through Lowry, Inc.—but we had to keep a landline, in case of emergencies. That way, no matter what happened, the company could say they had at the very least made a good-faith effort to contact us.

“You’re closest,” said Fern meekly.

I was also the one with the wrapped-up hands. I decided not to mention that as I turned and pawed the receiver off the wall, managing finally to get it wedged between my cheek and shoulder.

“Hello?” I said.

“There’s a ghost in your apartment,” said Emily.

I glanced at Mary, who was looking at me with both eyebrows raised. “Yes,” I said.

“Do you want it there?”