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Pinhead grinned. “It’s a very big deal,” he said, and then he leaned in close.
“Because in Everlost, all fortunes are true.”
Allie wasn’t sure whether to believe Pinhead. Just as Mary’s information had been wrong, it was possible Pinhead’s was wrong as well. It was just rumor. It was just myth. There was, however, one way to find out: She had to open one up.
Since the McGill had talked about the cookies, she reasoned that he must have a stash somewhere, so while the McGill was off inspecting a trap on the coast of Maine, Allie went up to his throne deck, and began the search.
They weren’t too hard to find. In fact, she would have found them sooner, if she didn’t have a certain disgust at getting anywhere near the McGill’s spittoon. It was only after a pause for thought that she realized the McGill had no reason to actually have a spittoon. Since he prided himself on his repulsiveness, he never actually used it. Instead, he spat everywhere else. That being the case, the spittoon was probably the most mucous-free object on the entire ship.
It turned out that she was right. She reached into the spittoon and found the McGill’s collection of fortune cookies.
She held one in her hand, grit her teeth, and watched what happened, hoping that Mary was wrong about her hand rotting off. Her hand didn’t rot. It didn’t wither. Allie was not at all surprised.
Now there was a sense of anticipation in her as she held the little pastry. She had never believed in fortune-tellers, but then, she had never believed in ghosts either. She closed her eyes, made a fist around the cookie and squeezed.
It crumbled with a satisfying crunch, then she pulled the little slip of paper out from the remains.
Selfish ambition leaves friends in a pickle.
Allie wasn’t sure whether she was more amazed or annoyed. It was like the universe wagging an accusing finger at her for having brought Nick and Lief to the Haunter. She tried another one, because the first only spoke of what had been, not what will be. Perhaps this second one would be more helpful. She broke another cookie, and read the fortune.
You shall be the last. You shall be the first.
Since it made no sense to her, she went for a third.
Linger or light; the choice will be yours.
It was like eating pistachios, and she found herself getting into a rhythm of cracking open one after another…until she reached for the fourth one, broke it open, and the fortune said:
Look behind you.
CHAPTER20
The Day the McGill Got Chimed The McGill held his temper as he stood behind Allie in the throne room, watching her steal his fortunes. Never before had anyone pilfered his fortune cookies, and his fury at her was deep, but for once he resisted the urge to lash out. He had successfully completed the first four steps. Only eight remained. If his temper caused him to be rash and hurl the girl over the side, he would never know the secret of possessing the living. But since anger was the only way the McGill knew how to react, he just stood there, not reacting at all.
The girl, her back still to him, suddenly stiffened as she read her fourth fortune, and slowly turned around to see him there. The moment she saw him, he recognized the look of fear in her eyes. It was the first time he had seen her show fear since arriving on the ship. At first it had troubled the McGill that she seemed unafraid of him, but now, he found himself troubled by the fact that she was. He didn’t want her to be afraid of him. This new sensitivity in himself was deeply disturbing.
“Explain yourself!” The McGill s voice came out in deep guttural tones, like the growl of a tiger at the moment it pounces.
Allie stood straight and opened her mouth to speak, but hesitated. The McGill knew what that hesitation meant. She’d going to lie, he thought—and he knew if she did lie, there would be no containing his temper. He would hurl her with such force, she would reach the mainland like a cannonball.
Then, after a moment, she relaxed her shoulders, and said, “I just learned about fortune cookies, and wanted to see for myself if it was true. I guess I got carried away.”
It smelled of honesty—enough honesty for the McGill to keep his temper in check.
He lumbered toward her, keeping one eye trained on her face, and the other on the spittoon. “Give me your hand,” he demanded, and when Allie didn’t do it, he grabbed her hand, holding it out.
“What are you going to do?” she asked.
He didn’t answer. Instead he reached into the spittoon with his free claw, grabbed a fortune cookie and placed it in her palm, then closed his hand around hers. “Let’s find out what our fortune is,” he said. The McGill squeezed Allie’s hand so hard, not only did the cookie shatter, but her knuckles cracked as well.
Then the McGill released her hand, and pulled out the fortune slip with his sharp nails.
Forgiveness keeps destiny on track.
The McGill found his anger slipping away. The cookies never lied. “Very well,”
he said. “I forgive you.” He sat down on his throne, satisfied. “Now get out of my sight.”
