Magic for Nothing Read online

  “I am not following this at all,” said Sam. “Can I hit her now?”

  “They sent me undercover,” I said, before Emery could give him permission. I didn’t know who would win in a knockdown fight between me and Sam now that I knew he was coming, but one or both of us would be severely hurt in the process, and I . . . I didn’t want to hurt him.

  God. Having feelings for people who aren’t part of my family sucks.

  “Who sent you undercover?” asked Emery.

  “My family. They gave me a new name—technically a name I already owned, so if the Covenant had any psychics or routewitches working for them, they couldn’t catch me in a lie—and an identity that matched my skills, and they sent me to the Covenant to find out what I could about their plans for North America. We’re afraid there’s going to be a war, and there aren’t that many of us. Even if we managed to save ourselves, a lot of people would be hurt.” We could disappear—we’d done it before—but the cryptids of North America hadn’t been subjected to a full Covenant purge in over a hundred years. They wouldn’t be ready. We wouldn’t be able to save them.

  “Your name is really Timpani?” asked Sam.

  “No,” I said. “It’s Antimony. But my middle name is Timpani. Antimony Timpani Price. Sort of a palindrome, only not quite, see?”

  Sam didn’t look like he saw. He was looking at me like I was something he needed to scrape off his shoe. “You lied about everything, didn’t you?”

  “Not everything,” I said softly, and looked away. In a more normal voice, I continued, “The Black Family Carnival really did get wiped out by Apraxis wasps, and I have the skills to pass as a carnie girl—my family’s been associated with the Campbell Carnival for generations. I trained there. Knife-throwing with the Amazing Christopher, trapeze and trampoline with Grayson Campbell. I can back up what I say I am. There was no way for the Covenant to confirm I was who I said I was, so they just worked me hard until they believed me.”

  “Very much like we did,” said Emery.

  “Yeah, well.” I turned back to her. “The Covenant noticed you because of what Umeko was doing. They’d seen the reports of the disappearances after your show came through town, and they put two and two together and decided, hey, we have a girl in training who has the perfect background to infiltrate and find out what’s really going on.”

  “So wait,” said Sam. “You were sent undercover with us by the people you’d been sent undercover to spy on?”

  I nodded, unable to keep from smiling grimly. “It’s a goddamn Shakespearean comedy, being me. The Covenant knew about the disappearances, and wanted to know whether they needed to do a purge, and I’m not their only American, but I’m their only carnie-trained operative. I couldn’t stop them from finding out about Umeko—not after some of her victims survived—but I could tell them that no one else here knew a damn thing. I’ve been trying my hardest to convince them that the rest of you are human and should just be left alone.”

  “Has it worked?” asked Emery.

  “No.” I fought the urge to look away again. “They know about at least three of the cryptids with the show, although they still think Sam’s human. I’m just a trainee to them. This is a test, meant to determine how trustworthy I am, and honestly, I’m pretty sure I’m failing it. They’re going to come for a purge.”

  “And why should we start believing you now, when all you’ve done is lie?” asked Sam. “The Covenant wouldn’t send someone they’d just met out into the field.”

  “Normally, your grandmother wouldn’t let someone she’d just met go out on the trapeze. There’s always extenuating circumstances. This time, my family is the extenuating circumstance. The Covenant wants someone who can help with situations like this one, who can move in a traveling show without standing out like a sore thumb. That’s me. But that means accelerating their normal timetable for training, and shoving me into the field before I’m technically ready.” To be honest, I was relieved. I didn’t know how much Covenant indoctrination I could have taken before I’d either snapped, or started to listen. “I never wanted to lie to you. I’ve been trying to minimize it since the day I got here, and to make the Covenant see that they’d be better off leaving you alone. I’m not the reason they noticed your existence. Umeko did that. If anything, I’m the reason they’ve spared you for as long as they have.”

  “What do you want, a medal?” Sam glared at me. “I don’t care why you lied. You’re still a liar. I can’t believe I fell for it.”

  “Yeah, well, you’re not the only one,” I said. I looked toward Emery. “My handler gave me an ultimatum earlier this week: she said when the carnival moved on, I wouldn’t be moving with it. She probably thinks I expect that to mean she’ll let you all go. She doesn’t know how much experience my family has with her people. They’re going to burn it to the ground. They don’t like killing innocent humans, but they consider voluntary association with cryptids to be a crime. None of you are innocent in their eyes.”

  Emery stared at me. “You’re not serious. None of this . . . you can’t be serious.”

  Sam didn’t say a word. He just kept looking at me like I was lower than dirt, an expression that made me want to crawl into my waterlogged tank top and hide. It’s too bad cartoon physics aren’t a real thing. I could have disappeared completely, if they were.

  “I’m sorry, but I’m serious,” I said. “You can ask the mice, if you like. You know Aeslin mice don’t lie.”

  “I’ve heard rumors of a surviving colony living with the Price family,” said Emery, in a thoughtful tone. Then she shook her head, glaring at me. “You can’t just waltz in here and tell me the Covenant of St. George is coming like it’s nothing big. This is my home. These people are my family.”

  “Yes, I know,” I said. “I want to help you save them.”

  “How are you proposing to do that?”

  The time for lying was over. Maybe it had been over for a while, and I just hadn’t noticed. Things might have been better if I had. “I don’t know,” I said honestly. “But I’m a Price, and I can find a way, if you’ll let me.”

  “I’ll be honest with you, even though it seems you’ve never extended me the same courtesy,” said Emery. “I don’t see where we have a choice.”

  For once, I didn’t have anything to say.

  “Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like some time with my grandson, and I’d like you to begin packing your things.” Emery made both these statements seem perfectly normal and reasonable, like they were the sort of things she said all the time. “You’ve upset him quite a bit, and you promised me you wouldn’t do that. He’s a sensitive boy. I’m afraid I won’t be able to forgive you for what you’ve done, and I simply can’t have people I don’t trust traveling with the show. It’s bad for morale. You’re going to find a solution to this little problem you’ve brought to our door, and then you’re going to leave.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” I said, and took a step toward the RV door. “I’ll get started now.”

  “Do that,” she said. Sam wouldn’t even look at me. I pushed the door open, and fled back out into the rain. I had to fix this. I didn’t think I could.

  The rain was coming down harder than ever as I ran through the bone yard. That was something of a relief. I didn’t know how fast news traveled during a storm, but I knew how fast it traveled when the sun was out, and I didn’t want the entire carnival to hate me. Not yet. It was inevitable at this point—maybe it always had been—and I wanted to put it off as long as I possibly could.

  I reached my RV without seeing another living soul, unlocking the door and stepping inside, into the dry and warm. The mice, who were standing on the counter outside their elaborate little house, greeted my return with cheers. Aeslin mice are good like that. As long as their gods and priestesses are around, they figure the rest of the world will sort itself out. Sometimes I really wish I could share the
ir outlook on the world.

  “Hi, guys,” I said, easing the door closed behind me. “Mork, I need to talk to you.”

  The newer of my mice looked faintly alarmed, slicking his ears against his head and pulling his body down toward the counter. “Priestess?” he squeaked.

  “You lived with the English branch of the family for a long time, even if they didn’t know that you were there. If Margaret were going to launch an attack, how would she do it?”

  “The Impassioned Priestess is not a bad person,” he said, tone going anxious. “She has been Misled. It is Not Her Fault.”

  “I’m not trying to point fingers or assign blame; I’m trying to save lives.” My clothes were sticking to my skin. I began stripping them off and dropping them into the sink, where they could dry without ruining anything else. “She told me that when this carnival moved on, I wouldn’t be moving with it. I don’t think she meant I’d be leaving quietly. She knows about at least three cryptids within the show. What is she going to do?”

  “She travels in the company of the Quiet Man,” said Mork slowly. It was the first time I’d heard a title assigned to someone who wasn’t a part of the Aeslin religious structure, but it fit. Robert was often quiet, listening and planning until he felt the need to act. He was very much in charge. Margaret knew it, and so did I. “He will come in from the back, with sharpened knives and silence. He prefers the unlit hall. The Impassioned Priestess would fight the world face-to-face, if she thought she could. She likes her enemies to see their deaths approaching.”

  “Okay.” I pulled my bathrobe on. The RV felt like it was shifting around me, going from a temporary home to a waiting room, a place to pause before action resumed. It hurt. “Are they going to call for reinforcements, or are the two of them going to try to take on this carnival all by themselves?”

  Mork lowered his head, whiskers drooping. “I am sorry, Priestess. I have failed you.”

  “What? What do you mean?”

  Mindy put a paw on his shoulder. “You must speak. If you do not speak, she cannot know, for did not the Thoughtful Priestess say We Are Not All Mind-Readers Here, We Leave That To Sarah?”

  Mork sighed. It was a small, pained sound, and I’ve spent enough of my life around Aeslin mice that it nearly broke my heart. Raising his head, he met my eyes and said, “If she has given you the Indication that the End is Nigh, then she is no longer alone with the Quiet Man. That is not how Things Are Done. Two is a reconnaissance team. More are required, for a Cleansing. More are required, for a Purge.”

  “How many more?” I asked.

  “I Cannot Say. At least two. Perhaps more. This is a Small Target, poorly armed, unprepared. They may think four is enough.”

  I stared at the mouse in horror. Mork ducked his head again, shame radiating from every line of his tiny body.

  “I have failed you,” he moaned. “I am unworthy of the hallowed space of the Family Attic.”

  “You have done no such thing,” I said. “You haven’t failed me; you’re still getting used to the idea of what it means to serve your gods. You’ll get used to it. And if anyone failed here, it was me. I didn’t tell you when Margaret came to speak to me. That was my fault.”

  “I must Redeem Myself,” said Mork stubbornly. “I will return to England, and face my punishment.”

  “No,” I said. “You will not.” There was no way I was sending this mouse back to the Covenant to be killed—and they would kill him, once guilt drove him to reveal himself. Even if he hadn’t been an Aeslin mouse from my family’s colony, and hence my responsibility, Mindy had been putting on an awful lot of weight in the past few weeks, and while I wasn’t going to ask her for details, I was pretty sure my colony was going to expand if I didn’t get home soon.

  (Aeslin mice have a longer gestation time than normal mice, and tend to only have one or two babies at a time. They also don’t eat them. Aeslin mice are much better than normal mice.)

  Mork made a small wailing noise and began supplicating himself to me. Mindy interposed her body between the two of us, whiskers slanted in embarrassment. “I will talk to him,” she squeaked. “I am sorry.”

  “Don’t be,” I said. “He helped.”

  More were coming than just Margaret and Robert. I should have guessed as much. Unless they were planning some sort of airstrike, there were too many people here for them to take out on their own.

  I didn’t have an umbrella, but I had the classic sheets of newspaper, intended as bedding for the mice. I grabbed a thick stack, stepped into my flip-flops, and said, “I’ll be right back,” before stepping into the rain once more. I wasn’t going far this time: just around the side of the RV to the other door, which I had never seen open.

  I knocked. I waited. Ananta opened the door, eyes widening when she saw me. Like me, she was dressed for staying where it was dry, not going out in the rain, in a knee-length black T-shirt over soft gray leggings. Unlike me, she didn’t have makeup melting down her face or glitter tangled in her hair.

  “Did you lock yourself out?” she asked. “I have a spare key.”

  “No,” I said. “May I come in?”

  Ananta went still. “That may not be the best idea.”

  In for a penny . . . “I know you’re a wadjet,” I said. “I know at least some of the cobras in your exhibit are your brothers. I don’t know why you’re with the carnival, and I don’t much care. I need your help.”

  Ananta had seemed still before. Now she was frozen, reduced to a perfect, reptilian motionlessness that made me wonder how I could ever have thought, even for a second, that she was a mammal. Finally, softly, she asked, “How do you . . . ?”

  “Please.”

  Ananta nodded, leaning out the door to take a quick look to either side before she stepped back and let me into her half of the RV.

  The smell of snake struck me the second I stepped inside, ten times as strong as it had been in the wider, airier reptile show tent. The lights were low, and the heat was high, enough that I wished I had something on under the bathrobe and could take it off, at least for a little while. There was a bed, long and narrow and currently occupied by two adolescent cobras. And an iPad. The sight of a cobra clutching a stylus in the last few inches of its tail was definitely a new one. I blinked. The cobra, lacking eyelids, did not blink back, but did flare its hood out a few extra millimeters, making sure I remembered that it was a dangerous snake, and should not have its Netflix time interfered with.

  Most of the space in the RV was taken up with rack upon rack of reptile enclosures. There were tanks on the counter, and a large, open tank taking up most of the small dining table. Ananta had structured her life around her charges as well as her brothers, and was probably perfectly content to do so. Family, after all, comes first.

  “All right,” she said, shutting the door. “Talk.”

  “I know you’re a wadjet because I’m a trained cryptozoologist, and I know they’re your brothers because they’re not your sons, and there’s no way you could have two unrelated male wadjet in the same tank without one of them killing the other,” I said quickly. Even if I hadn’t been surrounded by snakes, female wadjet have their own venom, and are perfectly capable of doing a lot of damage when they feel threatened. “My real name is Antimony Price.”

  “Price? Really?” Ananta took a step toward the bed, putting herself between me and her brothers. “Like Alex Price?”

  “He’s my brother,” I said, suddenly serene. Alex mostly worked with reptiles, and there was a male wadjet living at the zoo where he’d been working for the past few years. The wadjet community knew him as a friend and ally. Thank God. “Look. My sister accidentally declared war on the Covenant, so the family sent me to England to infiltrate the Covenant and find out how much they knew about us. Only they didn’t count on Umeko killing those people and attracting attention.”

  “The Covenant
sent you to infiltrate the carnival and find out what was going on,” said Ananta. I nodded. She groaned. “Humans are the worst. You’re always scurrying around and kicking over other people’s anthills. Why didn’t you say something sooner?”

  “Because I was trying to do as little damage as possible. Before we found out about Umeko, I didn’t know for sure whether the carnival was aware of the disappearances and just covering them up, or whether you were all innocent. After we found out about Umeko, I was trying to convince the Covenant that everyone here was human and deserved to be left alone.”

  “That’s a human thing, too. That weird savior complex.”

  “You can’t honestly tell me the Covenant has a savior complex.”

  “Can’t I?” Ananta raised an eyebrow. “When they got started, humans were at the bottom of the pecking order. The only thing you had going for you was the speed with which you bred. Even at our greatest, the wadjet could never compete, because we have too much trouble mating. The Covenant began as an attempt to save your species from extinction. It got out of hand when they learned to love killing. Now we get people like you and your family, trying to rebuild what your own species destroyed. It’s all about savior complexes. It always has been. Not that I mind, since it means I get to live in a world where some people don’t want to kill me on sight, but seriously. You think you can fix everything. You can’t.”

  “I need to fix this.”

  Ananta nodded. “Yeah, it’d be nice, since you fucked it up. But you didn’t make Umeko do what she did, and you didn’t attract the attention of the Covenant. You’re a pawn for once, just like all the rest of us. What did you think I could do to help you?”

  “You own this RV, right? And the tent where you do your reptile show?”

  Ananta nodded again, slowly this time, like she wasn’t comfortable with where this conversation was going. “I do.”