Tricks for Free (InCryptid #7)

by Seanan McGuire

Clutching the strap of my purse, I shoved my misery and loneliness down as far as it would go. Time to go to work.

“We all have to do things we don’t want to do in this life. For example, right now, I have to keep not shooting you.” –Jane Harrington-Price

There are people who say you never really escape from high school, you just keep finding it in different forms, over and over again, until it finally kills you. Those people are assholes, and should not be allowed in polite company. That doesn’t mean they’re wrong.

Turns out, ignorance often comes with an exciting, unexpected side effect: cruelty. To people who think they’re the best the world has to offer, kindness is an afterthought and an unnecessary one at that.

Humans are monkeys, and monkeys like to have a pecking order. I’d sealed my place in ours when, during training, I responded to someone asking “where did you move here from?” with “Route 4.” That was all it took. I was formerly homeless, a pity hire, and there was no possible way I could ever be as deserving of comfort or compassion as they were, because poverty is always a personal failing, no matter how it came about.

I watched her go, clenching my hands to keep myself from burning the whole damn place down. It’s not that I hate my job. It’s that I hate the people I have to do it with.

leave the retail to the masochists and the heroes.)

According to a few of the cast members who swam downstream after getting booted from Disney, the Great Mouse has stricter rules about what employees can and can’t do after the lights go out. Lowry Entertainment, Inc., however, is aware that they’re the second choice for much of their target market, which means they have to keep their ticket prices just a sliver lower, their rides just a trifle better, and their employees just a bit happier. If being allowed to treat the Park as our private playground once the guests are gone aids in retention and keeps us all from trying to unionize or anything else profit-impacting like that, well, they can turn a few blind eyes.

“What would you have done if I hadn’t shown up with the skates?” “I don’t know. Punched a few walls maybe.” Or gone into the swampy, undeveloped fields behind our apartment complex and thrown rocks at alligators. It wasn’t nice, but it was mutually frustrating for me and the gators, and sometimes misery loves company. Megan shook her head. “I worry about you.” “I worry about me, too.” “No, I mean it. Humans aren’t supposed to function in isolation. You’re pack animals. You need the rest of your pack around you to be mentally healthy.”

“Naturalism runs both ways,” she said. “If you can play Animal Planet about my species, I can do the same with yours. You have to admit, I’ve had a lot more opportunity to observe wild humans than you’ve had to observe wild gorgons. You’re like beetles. Your god must love you, because he put you everywhere.”

My sister, Verity, is only really happy when she’s doing something. When we were kids, our parents used to reserve time-outs for the absolute gravest of crimes, because using them for the little things that all children get up to would have been absolute torture for her. So she wrote lines instead, or did math problems concocted by Grandma Angela (an accountant, and an absolute monster where math is concerned), or raked the yard. Making her hold still was never on the table. My brother, Alex, is almost the opposite. He’s an academic, and the reptiles he studies respond best to patience and pretending to be a rock. Time-outs were almost a gift where he was concerned, which meant he didn’t get them either. Instead, he did dishes and sharpened knives and wasn’t allowed to go back to his room, no matter how much he apologized for whatever it was he’d done.

“I don’t know if you’ve looked at me recently, but you may have noticed that I am not, in fact, a white person. I am, rather, quite brown.” “I did notice that,” I said carefully. “One of my great joys here at Lowryland is walking through the Park and knowing that people from all over the world, from all walks of life, are able to come and enjoy what we’ve created without fear of racial profiling from the cast. We can’t control what the other guests do, and yes, we’ve had a few incidents over the years, but every cast member treats every guest with equal courtesy, at least to their faces.” Sophie’s expression turned hard. “Bring in guards and thorough searches, and that changes. Suddenly it’s the guest with the unfamiliar accent who gets ‘randomly’ selected for further screening. Suddenly it’s the man with the faded gang tattoos who has to walk through the metal detector three times. David Wilson died because someone snuck a knife into the Park. That’s tragic. All my sympathy goes to his family. I will lose a hundred Davids before I let children who look like me—children who look like anyone—start feeling like their skin color means they aren’t allowed to have access to the magic we give to children who look like you.”

“You’re a sorcerer. Not a sorceress. There’s no need to gender power. Power simply is, and it does what it will.

“Believe me, I want to be here even less than you do. Now, are we going to fight like civilized people, or am I going to stand here and taunt you?” –Jane Harrington-Price

“Whoever he is, marry him and keep us in the style to which we’d like to become accustomed.” “He works in Public Relations.” “Whoever he is, murder him and make it look like an accident, but make sure you get away with his wallet,” Megan amended. “Thanks for the vote of murder-confidence,” I said. She flashed me a bright, toothy smile. “I always have faith in you when it comes to murder.”

The car’s interior was real leather, and smelled buttery and rich, like I was wrapped in a cocoon made of nothing but the idea of money. I sank into it, trying not to do the math on how long this car could have paid for my groceries, and failing.

“Your family, your real family, will always welcome you home with open arms. Anyone who says you can lose their love isn’t really family, no matter what blood says.” –Evelyn Baker

“Love is love. If anybody tries to tell you your love’s not worth having, shoot them in the kneecaps a couple of times. It won’t change their minds, but it’ll make you feel better.” –Frances Brown

Something’s wrong.” “Then we’ll fix it.” Sam stood, putting his hands on my upper arms and looking at me solemnly. “I’m here now. I’m not leaving again. You don’t get to send me away.” “I could run.” I tried to make my voice seem light, casual even. I failed. Sam wasn’t buying it. His expression darkened, and he said, “You got one freebie. You already used it up. If you run away from me again, I’m tracking you down and looking at you sadly until you agree to stop.” “What, not shaking me?” “We both know that wouldn’t be cool, and it’d just give you an excuse to try to kick my ass. I have better things to do with my girlfriend than have superhero fights.” Sam paused before adding thoughtfully, “Although that could be cool. We should put that on the list for later.” “There’s going to be a later?” The corner of Sam’s mouth curled upward. “I sure hope so,” he said, and kissed me.

“There’s a place for everything, and everything has its place. It just so happens that this knife belongs in your spleen.” –Enid Healy

“People are why we can’t have nice things.”

Stories are universal. Details, though . . . details can get you killed.

“One of these days, something is going to go right. But probably not today.” –Jane Harrington-Price

Everything we are in any given moment is the sum of our experiences and choices up until then,

I had never regretted the difference in our species more. Maybe if I’d been a fūri, I would have known what to do, what the little, difficult to articulate touches were that would let me unlock the door to his fear and let the shadows out.

“You don’t owe the world anything. That’s why you should try to make it better no matter what. A lack of obligation does not mean a lack of mercy.” –Evelyn Baker

I wanted to tell her to be careful. I wanted to tell her that there was a hole in my heart pulling away the energy of the people around me. I didn’t.

Having him here and not being able to touch him was almost worse than not having him here at all. Only almost. Being able to see him, to know that he was . . . well, not okay, but at least alive, at least breathing, that was better than anything as simple as physical contact.

Play is an essential part of learning what the body is capable of, and while we were all just blowing off steam, I was learning more of what our group was tactically capable of than I could possibly have asked.

“Sometimes leaving survivors isn’t the kind option. Sometimes it’s a warning to others.” –Frances Brown

If Aeslin live in the halls of believing, our gods live in the halls of memory. It is our duty, and our honor, to remember all that happens to them, preserving it against the ravages of time. We codify history into ritual and rite. When the Thoughtful Priestess, long may she light the way, asks for the stories of those who came before her, we are eternally prepared.

A pang of homesickness grew where my heart should have burrowed.

“I believe you,” whispered Mork, the sweetest words that any lover has ever spoken.

Come on. I thought better of you. Honestly, I’m astonished that you didn’t think better of yourself.”

“Do you envy them?” “Envy them what?” I looked to him, ear cocked to show curiosity. “Their size? It would be nice, to be so protected from predation. But look how much they need! What fills my belly is but a crumb to them. They are endless hunger. They will devour the world, and they still will not be fulfilled. And lacking predators to turn their hands against, they turn so very often on each other. No. I do not envy them their size.”

“I was afraid as well. The foot which struck me came with great speed. I thought I might be joining the gods this day.” Mork looked suddenly unsure. “Would they have me, who is so near to being a heretic?” “If they refused you, I would scale the walls of Heaven to break the locks and welcome you inside,” I said gravely.

“Oh my God,” said Sam. “Annie’s dead aunt is a weirdo pervert.” “I prefer ‘bores easily,’ but whatever makes you happy.”

This may surprise you, bon vivant that you are, but our Annie has never been one to make friends easily.” Sam snorted. “I know, it’s shocking, with the snarkiness and the cynicism and the random acts of violence, but there you have it. She holds herself back. She doesn’t connect.

“The enemy of my enemy is my friend; the earworm of my grandmother is my weapon. Do you want chicken?”