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Yet another impossible thing he was charged with sorting out.

Without looking back, Mercury said to the Scholar, “Would you be willing to look through your books and see what you can find out about Invisibles that can neither be seen nor heard by the person to whom they are attached?”

“It seems that would be wise,” the Scholar said.

“And when you return to your room,” Mercury said, “do so quietly. Tacey is in there in the midst of a Transferal, and I suspect she’s exhausted.”

“I will. And I won’t mention that for her to be a ghost broker means she, too, has secrets that she hasn’t shared.”

Mercury’s shoulders dropped. “I used to be very careful about these things, carrying an enormous number of secrets without so much as hinting at any of them. Suddenly, I’m spilling secrets everywhere.”

“That is possibly the influence of the Rending Rock. It is already breaking you.”

“That’s reassuring,” Mercury muttered dryly.

The Scholar left Mercury there to ponder how much more complicated and overwhelming his situation grew every time he talked with the academic ghost. Mercury didn’t particularly want to think about it.

He turned to leave the room and came face to face with a ghost who had never been at Aventine Manor before. And yet . . .

“Why do I feel like I know you?” Mercury asked, baffled.

“That is something I cannot tell you.” Even his voice was vaguely familiar. A memory no more solid than a wisp of a cloud.

The Violet Giant had indicated that the Reluctant Recluse was unable to speak something out loud. Was this another of those things? A secret that was somehow cursed or protected? Mercury hadn’t heard of that before, something that seemed the order of the day lately.

“That you know how to find this hidden room tells me you aren’t newly arrived at Aventine,” Mercury said. “So I am going to assume you are my new attachment, the one Tacey has traded for Zizzy.”

The ghost nodded.

“And the fact that I can see you, an attachment I know to be Invisible, tells me Tacey has made significant progress on the Transferal.”

The ghost nodded again.

Mercury pressed down the guilt he felt at knowing Zizzy was being detached from him. “Tacey never told me what your name is.”

“Because I have never told her,” the confusingly familiar ghost said.

Tacey had indicated that her Invisible had been with her all her life. To have simply refused to tell her his name would be a shockingly cruel thing to do.

“Why haven’t you told her?”

“Because I cannot.”

More secrets. More uncertainty.

“Are you able to tell me?” Mercury asked.

The ghost nodded. But it was more than merely an answer to his question. His expression held relief, as though he had been desperate for decades to speak his name and was finally able to.

Again he was washed over by the unshakable feeling that he knew this ghost, that he had seen him before, despite that being . . . impossible.

“What is your name?” he asked.

“Mercury Raine.”

4

“Igave myself that name,” Mercury said. “How can it be your name as well?”