The Gentleman and the Thief (The Dread Penny Society #2) - Sarah M. Eden Page 0,70

it?”

“He’s a Perishable,” Ace said. “Some things come naturally to them.”

Pudding set aside his tray of tarts and leaned against the headboard. “Can’t believe you told everyone I’m going to be on your team for some sort of ghost challenge. What do I know about being a ghost?”

“Nothing really.” Snout leaned his shoulder against the bedpost but didn’t quite do the thing properly. Half of him slipped through.

“You look like you’ve been impaled.” Pudding cringed. “That would make a person run like a fox in hunting season.”

“Good to know.” Snout righted himself. “Fourth Forms have ‘Terrify a Perishable to the Point of Hysteria or Loss of Consciousness’ in their Spirit Trials. I’ll have to remember the impaling.”

“Do we have to scare peop—I mean, Perishables?” Pudding asked.

Ace shook his head. “First Forms are limited to dogs and cats.”

“We have to scare dogs?”

“That test is called ‘Artful Dodging,’” Bathwater said. “We have to sneak past a dog and a cat without either of them noticing us.” Bathwater had struggled with that one. Even talking about it now he sounded nervous. “Animals see a lot more than Perishables do. And cats are malicious about it.”

“Both of them would spot me straight off.” Pudding’s mouth twisted to one side.

Ace tried subtly mirroring Pudding’s expression, but he couldn’t quite get it. He’d learned to float through walls with only the occasional mishap, but he couldn’t work his own face.

“There’s also ‘Churchyard Chase,’” Bathwater continued. “The student chases a stand-in for a Perishable all around a churchyard, with the aim of getting them to stop at a particular headstone.”

Pudding slipped his hands behind his head. “I’m a fast runner.”

“Won’t work,” Ace said. “If you fall, you’ll scrape yourself up. Blood would be a dead giveaway.”

“A not-dead giveaway, more like.” Pudding had a way of making them laugh even when they were weighing heavy matters.

“If not Artful Dodging or Churchyard Chasing,” Bathwater went on, “then maybe ‘Is That the Wind, or Is This Place Haunted?’”

Pudding’s eyes pulled wide. “That’s the name of the test? That whole mouthful?”

“Rattlebag said it used to be called ‘Ghostly Sounds, Beginner Level.’”

“Ghostly Sounds,” Pudding repeated. “Like moaning and wailing and saying things like ‘Who dares disturb my eternal slumber?’” He pulled the last word out long and singsongy, throwing his hands up like he was towering over something.

They all burst out laughing.

“Pathetic!” Ace said between chuckles.

Pudding pretended to be offended; no one seeing his exaggerated pout and pulled brows would believe he was in earnest. “If that was so bad, you try it.”

Ace rose up from the bed—floating for effect—and hovered slowly closer to his new friend. He pitched his voice low and rumbling, dropping the volume and speaking almost painfully slowly. “Who dares disturb my eternal slumber?”

For just a moment, Pudding truly looked scared. But the fear dissolved on the instant. “That was brilliant! I could feel your voice shaking inside of me. Can you teach me to do that?”

“I don’t know,” Ace said, returning to his bed. Sitting on a bed without falling through was one of the first lessons at Higglebottom’s.

“We don’t have time for being wrong about what he can do,” Snout said. “Pudding has to take one of the four tests. Which one do we give him?”

Ace gave it a moment’s thought. “Snout, you’re best at Artful Dodging. Bathwater, your strength is Churchyard Chase. I should probably take Is That the Wind, or Is This Place Haunted?”

“What does that leave me?” Pudding asked, another Bakewell tart disappearing into his mouth.

“Shroud Wearing,” Ace said.

“And what does a fellow have to do in ‘Shroud Wearing’?”

In unison, all three of them said, “Wear a shroud.”

Pudding laughed. “No jesting. What’s the challenge?”

“We’re telling you the truth,” Ace said. “The test is wearing a shroud.”

“A fellow puts on a shroud and says, ‘There you have it’?”

“Keeping something on that isn’t made of phantom fabric is a difficult thing,” Bathwater said. “My head still slips through at least half the time. Sometimes, I raise my arms to look bigger and more threatening, and the shroud doesn’t come with me. Humiliating.”

“Oh, blast it all, we’re thick.” Ace let himself drop through the bed and onto the floor beneath. This time, he didn’t leave any pieces of himself behind. He slid out from under the bed, addressing them all. “Shroud wearing. Perishables don’t need practice not floating through their clothes. We can toss a shroud on Pudding, here, and he could walk out, make the circuit, and come back the reigning king of First Form