She hadn’t. “It’s Harriet Stoker.”
He grinned. “All right, Stoker. Lead the way. I’m Greg.”
She took Greg back up to the fifth floor. A few ghosts were chatting on the stairs, and they looked between Harriet and Greg in surprise.
“Sup,” he said to them.
To Harriet’s surprise, the girls pressed up against the stairs to avoid him, not acknowledging his greeting.
Upstairs, there was a Shell floating over Harriet’s phone. She flapped her hands at it, pushing the boy away. Greg inspected the phone in wonder. “How does it work?”
“It’s voice-activated. I’ll unlock it, then you can just tell it what you want to see. Only … wait until I’ve gone, please.” Harriet hid a grimace. She didn’t even want to imagine what Greg wanted to search for.
“All right,” he said, and held out a hand. “You’ve got a deal.”
Harriet went to shake it, and then pulled back. He’d agreed suspiciously quickly. “What are you giving me for it? I’ll let you use it for fifteen minutes for one rat spirit.”
He frowned down at his outstretched hand, then back at her. “I don’t have any rats at the moment, but I’ll give you a mouse for it.”
“Three mice.”
“It’s worth a mouse and a half at the most.” He waggled his hand. “Come on, Harriet.”
“Two mice,” she said.
He sucked his teeth. “All right. Two mice. Shake on it?”
She paused, eyeing him. What did she really know about Greg? Those girls on the stairs hadn’t even wanted to make eye contact with him. He could be trying to swindle her somehow. “I want the mice before you use the phone.”
“Sure. Whatever you want.” He pushed his hand towards her again. She finally took it.
When her skin touched his, all her doubts left her mind. He was on her side – of course he was. She couldn’t remember why she’d ever doubted him.
“A mouse and a half, then,” he said, grip tight around her palm.
“Sure,” she said faintly.
He released her hand. Harriet swayed slightly, blinking.
Greg grinned at her, a lazy smile tugging up the side of his mouth. “Perfect,” he said, and pulled a mouse spirit out of his shirt pocket. He breathed in deeply, his tongue curling around the tail, then passed the other half over to Harriet. She closed her eyes and inhaled, letting the energy roll over her. It was amazing how quickly it worked to make her feel more alive.
It wasn’t anywhere near enough to manifest her power, but the buzz was still worth the trade. While Greg spent his fifteen minutes using her phone, Harriet found herself gazing deep inside a cobweb threaded across the ceiling.
“Phew!” Greg stretched his arms up behind his head. “I haven’t had such a good time in ages.”
Harriet was surprised – the fifteen minutes had gone by in a dreamy energy high, as she tried to spot the spider among the petrified insect cocoons. It was like the energy had done something to her brain, sending her thoughts slow and stretchy like toffee.
Harriet smiled affectionately at him. He was a funny one. Good old Greg. Why had she ever thought he was strange? He felt like a long-lost brother now, familiar and comforting. She found herself telling him the truth: “I was trying to manifest my power with the mouse, but it didn’t work.”
“Oh, yeah?” said Greg, eyebrow raised. “I might know some people who can help with that. You’d need to have something to trade, though. They run a black market where people swap … particular favours and information.”
That sounded perfect. Anyone Greg recommended would be able to help her, she was sure of it. Harriet beamed at him.
“Can you take me to see them?”
“Stoker, it would be my pleasure.”
Oh dear. I was hoping it would be a while before you had to meet the Tricksters. They’re tangled up in everything – past, present and future – so you’re going to have to face them eventually. It might as well be now.
You see, ghosts have lived here for a long time. Not just since the halls of residence was built in the seventies, but long before that, in a series of cottages and barns and huts and camps throughout history. In all that time, people have died, like they do.
Gather enough people together, whether they’re dead or alive, and they’ll make some ground rules, put laws in place and develop some kind of society. There are lawmakers and lawbreakers here, just like anywhere else. Sometimes the lawbreakers are the more interesting ones.
Look at Greg – his power makes anyone trust him, utterly, after skin-to-skin contact. That’s allowed him to get away with a lot.
It’s a power that makes him valuable to people like the Tricksters. He’s an enforcer; an inside man. Harriet hasn’t been here long enough to know who she should avoid and who she should trust.
If she’d asked Rima before talking to Greg, she would have been warned to never, ever, shake Greg’s hand. But it’s too late for that now. She’s already made a big mistake – one that it’s going to be hard to recover from. But her next mistake will be even worse.
HARRIET
Greg led her down to the basement floor, through a doorway marked “Recreation Room”. As he stepped through the wooden door, the entrance lit up in bright white light, and then dropped back into darkness. Harriet was worried it would burn her, but she trusted Greg, so she stepped through. The glowing light was painless.
The floor of the basement room was covered in a black, gunky damp from flooding, and it was full of junk – broken tables and chairs, old suitcases and crates. Ghosts were crammed into every centimetre of space.
“What was that light thing on the door?” she asked Greg.
“It’s the lock,” he said, scanning the room. “People get sent to the basement for breaking the rules. That girl there, in the orange nightgown, used to go around starting fires a couple of years
