Page 40 of Installment Immortality

“You done?” asked Phee.

“I’m done,” I said.

“All right, then I’ll give you this bit for free: I’m not working with the Covenant. I’m not that bog-stupid. A leprechaun might be, but I told you, that isn’t what I am. And you, my dead friend, just told me exactly who you are.”

I looked at her flatly.

“Dead girl traveling with two Lilu, getting snippy and protective when I look at them the wrong way? You’re the Price family babysitter, Betty or Veronica or whatever your damn name is. Never thought I’d see the day. Cryptozoologist royalty on my doorstep.” She bowed exaggeratedly to Elsie and Arthur.

I bristled.

“The name’sMary,” I said. “And if you know who we are, I’m sure you want to help us.”

“Knowing who you are makes me want to ask how much money it would take to get you out of my city before anyone else knows you’re here,” she said. “Barring that, yeah, I’ll help you. That’s my place.” She indicated the house across the street. “I know boardinghouses are old-fashioned and out of style in this brave new world of Airbnbs and the like, but some of us still need a place that doesn’t come with electronic records and a paper trail. So I rent out rooms as people need them, and I have two open right now, if that suits Her Majesty.”

According to Apple’s map, this was where we needed to be. And while I might not be particularly happy with Apple herself, I trusted her not to actively screw with us. She had too much to lose to think that was a good idea.

At this point, we all did.

I glanced to Elsie and Arthur, waiting for the confirming nods before I returned my attention to Phee and said, “Yeah, that suits us just fine.”

“Wonderful. Fifty dollars a night for the three of you—as agroup, not each. If that seems ridiculously cheap to you, be aware that when humans try to rent from me, their rates start at two hundred a night.”

“I was human when I died,” I said.

“You want to pay more?”

“I’m dead. I don’t have any money.”

“No, but you’re the kind of dead who sometimes turns solid just because she thinks it’s funny, and that means you could rob a bank if you wanted to. Don’t make me force you to rob a bank.”

If it came to that, I’d just pop myself back to Portland and snatch some money out of the petty cash that Kevin maintained, or go to Michigan and do the same with Thomas’s stash. I had options, even if I wasn’t particularly inclined to use them when I didn’t have to. I turned to Arthur and Elsie, gesturing for them to get out of the car.

Arthur was the first one out. “Are we really staying here tonight?” he asked.

“And probably the next several days, until we find out where the Covenant is and what they’re doing,” I said. “So let’s be nice to our host, because she’s giving us a place to stay that isn’t either the back seat of the car or the nearest Holiday Inn. The house of a random clurichaun that we met on the street seems marginally less likely to give us bedbugs.”

Elsie made a sour face. “Ihatebedbugs.”

“Hatred of bedbugs is the unifying factor of all sapient life,” said Phee airily. “I’d get your things, if I were you. We’re a safe-enough city, but safe and ‘immune to theft’ are two different sentences. You want to be sure you keep having things when you’re done here, bring them inside.”

“Yes, ma’am,” said Arthur. He leaned back into the car and retrieved his duffle bag.

Elsie, meanwhile, walked around the car and opened thetrunk, extracting her suitcases and giving Phee a perplexed look. Phee smiled sunnily and waved the fingers of one hand in a wave.

“Got a ghost carpet bag, ghost nanny?” she asked.

I shook my head. “I travel light,” I said.

“Grand. We’ll move along,” she said, and turned to cross the street to her house. The rest of us followed her.

The porch was even whiter up close, painted with a meticulous care that spoke of either loving maintenance or a low level of obsession. There were several hanging swings and one egg-shaped hanging chair, which was occupied by a brown tabby cat that looked old enough to have witnessed the Nixon administration. Phee stopped to caress its ears, and it made a weary creaking sound, then rolled over without opening its eyes.

“Mary,” said Arthur. “Mary, that cat has two tails. Two tails, Mary.”

“That’s Maron; he’s a bakeneko,” said Phee. “He’s about three hundred years old, and he’s a lazy old bum who spends most of his time asleep.”

Maron made the creaking sound again, this time opening one eye and flicking one ear flat against his head. He didn’t otherwise acknowledge our presence. I offered him a little wave.

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