ago. The boy with the Mohican stalked one of the third-floorers before the millennium. Once you’re sent here, you don’t get out again. Qi Pang’s lightning fries any of them who try to cross the doorway.”

He gestured back towards the bright light that had flashed when they’d entered. Harriet shivered, remembering the feeling of Qi’s lightning wrapped around her arm. She could imagine what would happen if one of the imprisoned ghosts tried to pass through it.

Greg walked over to where a group of ghosts were crowded around a pool table. One of the balls on it was skittering around, rolling over to hit a second one and sending it flying. The crowd let out a roaring cheer, and one of the ghosts patted a short, grinning girl on the arm.

From the other side of the table, a boy stared at another ball. It tilted to the side, then back. The guy frowned, staring unblinkingly at it until it started rolling.

The ball missed the pocket, and the crowd let out a long groan as the girl did a little happy dance.

They must be using telekinesis. Harriet was impressed. Was there no end to the potential powers ghosts could have?

“Are they the ones who run the black market?” Harriet asked Greg.

He shook his head. Suddenly mute, he pointed to two men she hadn’t noticed, standing alone on the far side of the room. They weren’t paying any attention to the pool game, but just watched everyone, completely motionless. The sight of them ignited some long-lost instinct inside Harriet’s spine that told her to run.

“Those are the Tricksters,” Greg said. “It’s their market.”

They looked like old-fashioned movie stars; all smoothed-back hair and artistic stubble. Their hair was completely white – a shockingly bright white. But there was something unnatural about their disproportionate handsomeness. It felt artificial, like a neon poisonous frog.

The urge to flee gripped the back of Harriet’s neck, seizing up her muscles. They couldn’t notice her, her hindbrain was telling her body. She had to hide.

“The Tricksters?” Harriet said, her voice a little shaky. One of them turned his head, his eyes landing on hers. “Are you sure this is safe?”

“I promise.” Greg pressed one hand to her elbow.

She breathed out. If he thought this was safe, then she was going to be all right. “What’s that feeling, then? It tickles.”

“Tricksters collect energy from fear,” Greg said, under his breath. “That feeling is their power feeling you out, that’s all. It’s harmless.”

“I’m not sure about this…” Harriet looked back at the doorway. “I think I should go.”

“You don’t want to waste your time with that lot upstairs.” His hand touched her forearm. “If you want to get things done, the basement is the place to be.”

“Maybe I should go and talk to Rima first…”

Greg squeezed her shoulder reassuringly, his fingers touching her neck. Harriet went dizzy, her thoughts going cloudy. When she could focus again, Harriet couldn’t remember what she’d been so worried about.

“Let’s just go and say hey,” Greg suggested. “They’ll be able to help, I promise. You trust me, don’t you?”

He was right. These were exactly the kind of people she had wanted to find – the real people in charge. It was good that she was afraid – a sign that she was pushing herself as far as she could go. Her gran would never run away from anything. She was stronger than that, and so was Harriet.

She let Greg lead her over to the Tricksters, where he made a tinny cough to get their attention, hovering in front of them.

Eventually, the taller Trickster deigned to look at him. “Yes?”

“Hi, Rufus. Vini.”

The second Trickster didn’t look at them but inclined his head slightly.

All of Greg’s confidence seemed to have dried up now. “This is, er, Harriet Stoker. She’s new, she fell—”

“We know,” Rufus said, sounding bored.

“Right. You’re very well informed.”

“Get to the point.”

“I want to discuss a trade.” Harriet tried to pitch her voice at the assertive tone her gran used when she was trying to gain control of an argument. Something about these men reminded her of her gran. “I need information. In exchange, I’ll give you time using a mobile phone. It has some music on there, and a few episodes of a TV show called Loch & Ness. It also lets you access the Internet.”

“The Internet is, er—” Greg started explaining.

“We know,” Rufus said again, cutting him off.

“… for porn,” Greg trailed off, under his breath.

“What kind of information do you need?” Vini asked.

Harriet wondered what question she could ask that would give her the maximum amount of information. If this was her only chance to make a deal, she had to get the most out of it. “I want to find a way of choosing my power when it manifests.”

For the first time, Rufus moved, turning his head to exchange a glance with Vini. He had been absolutely, inhumanly still until now.

“We want the phone,” Vini said. “Not just time using it. Permanently.”

Harriet pretended to consider this. She had come prepared to barter. The phone would run out of battery soon, so she didn’t want to give it away completely if she didn’t have to. “I’d rather lend it to you by the hour. Just to make sure I’m getting the information I need.”

His eyes glinted. “Give us the phone afterwards, if you think we’ve helped you. We know how to do this.”

“How do I know I can trust you?”

Rufus cleared his throat pointedly at Greg, whose hand squeezed the back of Harriet’s neck.

“They’re on your side, I promise,” he whispered in her ear.

Harriet grinned dopily at Greg. “Fine, it’s yours,” she told Rufus.

As she shook their hands, Harriet noticed Rufus had a neat rectangular tattoo on his forearm. It looked suspiciously like a spreadsheet. Was it a record of black-market trades?

Their ice-cold skin made pins and needles spread through her hand. They were sucking out her energy, like Qi had done. As quickly as she could, while still looking polite, she pulled

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