Harriet frowned. “My power hasn’t manifested yet. That’s why I want a spirit. To see if I can make it happen. What do you want for one?”
The guy let out a laugh. “Not anything you can offer, princess.”
Harriet swallowed a sigh. Time to turn on the charm again. She twisted a curl of hair around her finger, tilting her head sweetly at him. “Please?”
He snorted. “Goodbye.”
“But—” She stopped. Her instinct was telling her to back down.
“Thanks for all your help. I really appreciate it,” she said instead, as sweetly as possible.
“Whatever,” he muttered, and stuck his head into the plasterboard.
Harriet brushed back her hair, straightened her shoulders, and walked away. There was no point asking anyone else for a rat if they’d laugh in her face like this guy. To stand a chance of making a trade, she had to work out what the ghosts valued. Then find a way to get some of it.
Every innocent conversation seemed to reveal some new discovery about ghost life. She needed to talk to someone who knew everything there was to know about being a ghost, who had theories about powers and mythology. She had to talk to Felix.
I know it won’t help you much yet, but can I show you something?
When I was born, my mother had to hide me from my father. I was a girl, which was a disappointment. I was also nearly dead – born too soon and barely moving. She kept me alive, until I was strong enough that he wouldn’t have an excuse to kill me. I remember a moment from my childhood when he stared at me with unconcealed bemusement, like he couldn’t even imagine what was supposed to make him love me. The whole concept of fatherhood was completely foreign to him.
My mother adored me, and I think that just confused him even more. He couldn’t understand why.
That’s the way that Harriet looks at the others, when they are laughing and joking together. Like there is something that she’s missing. I wish there was a way to help her find it.
It’s hard to see what’s really going on if you love someone. They can mistreat you as much as they like, and you ignore it because you don’t want to acknowledge the truth. If you did, then you’d have to deal with it. And that can mean the end of everything.
FELIX
Felix was on a tour of the building, saying hello to all the people he hadn’t spoken to in decades, since the last time they were all awake. He was trying to find a guy who always exchanged comic-book theories with him, singing to himself as he walked, when he bumped into Harriet in the entrance hall.
“Have you got a moment to talk, Felix?” she asked.
“Sure,” he said, surprised.
They sat down together near the dusty, graffiti-covered reception desk on the ground floor. Harriet fell quiet.
She seemed distracted. He didn’t want to push her to speak, in case she needed time to compose herself before talking about her death.
Silence always made him slightly worried, though. It was just so loud. It set him off thinking of reasons why the silence could be awkward, until he wasn’t able to tell if it actually was an awkward silence or a comfortable one. By the time the other person spoke, he was usually sweating with anxiety.
He worried a lot about whether people hated him. Felix had been the self-conscious sort, when he was alive. He’d never taken any risks or stepped out of his comfort zone, just in case he was judged.
So, of course, he hadn’t made many friends in halls until after his death, which said a lot about how shy he had been when he was alive. It had taken literally an eternity for him to open up enough to make real close friends, rather than casual acquaintances. Even then, he’d only managed it with Rima, Kasper and Leah.
When he was little, he’d always been worried and quiet. His brother was the brave and outgoing one. He pretended that Oscar was here now, rolling his eyes at Felix’s nervousness. What would he say to Harriet? What would he think of her? He’d have known exactly what to do right now. A yearning for his brother opened up inside Felix again.
“Can you show me your power?” Harriet asked.
Felix was relieved that she clearly didn’t need coaching through a death-related therapy session. This was a topic of conversation that he could handle. He’d been wondering how long it would take Harriet to ask what their powers were.
Instead of replying, he looked at Cody and thought: Roll over. The fox immediately rolled onto her back and started licking in between the pads of her back foot.
Harriet didn’t look impressed. “Rima can do that, too.”
“Yeah, but she uses commands,” he explained. “I hypnotized her.” His power was less hypnotism and more insistent suggestion, but hypnotism sounded more impressive.
“That’s so extra,” Harriet said.
Felix preened. He always had to resist the urge to brag when he told people about his power. He had an excellent one. Not like poor Kasper.
There was a new gleam in her eyes. “What other kind of things can you do?”
“Well, I can make people see things that aren’t there. Look.”
He focused on Cody, imagining a pink butterfly fluttering around her head. She opened her eyes sleepily, then snapped her jaws at it. The butterfly flew out of reach, making Cody leap after it, wiggling her bum.
“Brilliant!” Harriet said, watching the butterfly dissolve into dust. “Though if you can hypnotize her, why did Rima bother training Cody? You could just force her to do whatever you like. You could have an army of foxes!”
Felix shook his head, frowning. “I would never do that. She has to want to do stuff for Rima, otherwise it’s not fair.”
Harriet blinked, looking very much like she was
