Page 12 of Aftermarket Afterlife

Rose used to be a hitchhiking ghost, before she got a little too involved with the dead gods and received a promotion to “Fury.” It’s a long story, and not mine to tell. But assuming she’d be a passenger with our travelers wasn’t too far out of line. Still, I shook my head.

“Sally’s with them, right?” asked James.

“Sally’s not really optional,” I told him. “She has the last name Price on her ID, same as you do. Our adoptions may not be strictly legal, but they’re definitely binding.”

“She was always family to me,” said James.

“Well, now she’s just family on paper, too,” I said. “No. They’ve got Sarah riding with them.”

Artie perked up a bit. Elsie frowned.

“Sarah?” she asked. “What the hell is Sarah doing here?”

Elsie could seem a lot more easygoing than her mother, and in most ways, she was; she didn’t get as hung up on appearances as Jane did, and when she wanted a cookie, she ate a cookie without berating herself about it. She took after her father in a lot of ways, and was all the better for it. But when it came to holding a grudge, justified or not, she was all Jane, and she blamed Sarah for what happened to Artie.

Everyone else who’d been there at the time had tried to explain to her that what happened wasn’t Sarah’s fault; she’d been deep in the throes of world-changing mathematical wizardry when Artie touched her bare skin, something he should absolutely have known better than to do, and got his mind blasted before anyone could pull him away. Sarah didn’t know what she was doing. She couldn’t have prevented herself if she’d been trying. The only way to protect Artie would have been for him not to touch her, and we would never know for sure why he’d decided he had to do that.

Artie wasn’t the only one who’d come back from that little trip changed in some fundamental way. Annie and James had both had their memories of Sarah wiped up to the moment the chaos began. Annie no longer remembered growing up with Sarah, and apparently the missing memories made their multi-year Dungeons and Dragons campaign utterly incomprehensible. Sarah had been able to convince her that they knew each other, mostly because she hadn’t deleted the memories of the mice who were with them, and like all Price children, Annie had been raised to believe the mice above all else.

James hadn’t been quite as inclined to rodent-based credulity, but he also hadn’t had nearly as much memory to lose; his adjustment had been faster and easier. Of the three, while they’d all been changed, it was only Artie I could really say had beendamaged, and it was increasingly unclear if the damage was ever going to go away.

I turned to focus on Elsie. “I don’t know why Sarah’s here; I didn’t ask. But I do know she’s family, and that means she’s allowed to be here any time she wants to be. It’s good that she’s here. We want to get this out of the way if we can. A proper family reunion isn’t really in the cards for us currently, since calling Verity and Alex home would leave their territories undefended.”

“Yeah, and tactically speaking, putting all your high-value targets in one place is never a good idea,” said James. “If the Covenant has discovered the concept of the air strike, it could be the last thing we ever do.”

“Thank you for that cheerful thought, James,” I said. “She did say she felt uncomfortable coming through the wards and upsetting everyone, so she wanted to hitch a ride with people who were already coming from out of town. Maybe that was her motivation. And maybe she just missed Portland.”

“Maybe,” said Elsie dubiously. “I’m going to keep my eye on her. if she so much as twitches toward my little brother, I’ll—”

“Do nothing and be happy for me,” said Arthur firmly. “If she’s ready to stop avoiding me, I’m ready to not be avoided.”

“Artie—”

“Arthur,” he said.

“And see, that’s the problem. You always hated being called Arthur, until she broke your brain and stuck it back together with craft glue and pipe cleaners. You’re still not entirely well. I don’t want her to hurt you worse than she already has.”

“If it looks like she’s going to rip another hole in the fabric of space and time, I promise I won’t go with her this time, all right?” he said snidely, pushing his chair back from the table. “My broken brain and I are going to go to the library now. I think I want to be by myself for a little while.”

“Arthur...” she said, pleadingly.

He didn’t respond, just rose and stalked away. Kevin sighed, putting down his coffee cup.

“Thank you for breakfast, Mary. I know you were trying to make today go a little smoother, and I’m sorry it’s all fallen apart so quickly.”

“Hey,” I said, keeping my voice light. “No one’s been stabbed, shot, or set on fire yet, and we have how many Prices in this house? I think this may be some sort of record for nonviolence.”

A cheer rose from under the table as the mice who had been listening in to the whole conversation seized upon something that could potentially form the basis of a new celebration. I shrugged. As far as things the mice could celebrate went, this one was fairly harmless, and at least somewhat entertaining. Let them party.

“I know.” He sighed, glancing at Annie and James. “I was just hoping we could be a little less...us, for the homecoming.”

“Hey, kiddo. Alice knows you, and she loves you the way you are. And Thomas, well, he married Alice. On purpose. He’s going to think you’re fantastic, all of you.”

“I hope you’re right.” Kevin paused then, glancing around. “Where’s Ted?”

“Is he in the kitchen with Jane and Evie?”

“I don’t think so...”

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