***

Allie dug through what writings of Mary’s she could find, until she discovered the entry on fortune cookies—how they were evil, flesh-rotting little pastries, and should be avoided like nuclear waste. If Mary was frightened enough of fortune cookies to ban them, Allie knew there must be something important about them.

Allie sought out Pinhead. He was down in the mess hall with the rest of the crew, who were all entertaining themselves with the same games they played over and over again. They flipped and traded old baseball cards from long-dead players. They argued over who was cheating in checkers. As in Mary’s world, these crew members, if not rousted from their games by the McGill, would sit in their eternal ruts, and get into the same fights over and over again. Remember that, Allie told herself. Don’t let your guard down. Don’t let yourself fall into routine again.

When the crew saw her enter the mess hall, either they ignored her, or they scowled at her. She was not well loved among the crew. Mostly they resented the fact that she had found the McGill’s favor, where they had not. Still, they had to grudgingly admit that since she had been on board, their situation had improved. The McGill was distracted and was far less demanding on them now.

Pinhead, more than any of the others, understood the value of having Allie aboard. At first she had thought he’d be resentful the way Vari had been resentful of Nick, but since Pinhead was often the scapegoat for the McGill’s anger when things didn’t go his way, Allie was a bit of a savior to Pinhead. She could hardly call him a friend, but neither was he an enemy. One thing Allie was certain of: he had more brains than his small head would suggest, and was pretty much the glue that held things together around the Sulphur Queen.

Pinhead stood in a corner acting as referee for two other young crewmembers who were playing the flinching game—the one where you slap each other’s hands, and get a free slap if your opponent flinches.

“Tell me about fortune cookies,” she said. He immediately left the two flinchers to their game, and took Allie aside, sitting down with her at a table where they could talk without being overheard.

“What do you want to know?” Pinhead asked.

“Mary Hightower says they’re evil. Is that true?”

Pinhead laughed. “Mary must have had a bad fortune.”

“So tell me the truth.”

Pinhead looked around as if it was some big secret, then said quietly, “Fortune cookies all cross over.”

Allie took a moment to process that. “What do you mean all?”

“I mean all. Every single fortune cookie that was ever made anywhere in the world crosses into Everlost. Living people might break them open, but the ghosts of all those cookies cross over, unbroken, just waiting for some Afterlight to find them.”

“Interesting,” Allie said, “but why is that such a big deal?”