A Local Habitation

Maybe they can be summoned without a body.” I paused. If there was anyone who would know how to call the night-haunts . . . “I’ll have to get back to you on that.”

“Please.”

“I’m going to head back to the office, go through these files, and try to figure out whether it’s possible. And get coffee. I really need coffee. Will you be okay until Elliot gets back?”

“I’ll be fine.” She pushed her glasses up with one finger. “I’ll lock the door and check in with April every few minutes.”

“Okay.” I inclined my head in the bare outline of a bow, tucked the drawer up under my arm, and walked back out into the hall. I had a lot to think about.

SEVENTEEN

VOICES RAISED IN faint argument were drifting through the door of Colin’s office. I sped up. Quentin’s safety was the one thing I wasn’t willing to risk. That’s why I wanted him to stay in the office in the first place: better paranoid with a locked door between him and the rest of the knowe than following me when I wasn’t sure I could protect him.

“—and I’m telling you that if they focused more on telling a good story, the graphics wouldn’t matter! How many explosions do you need in the first ten minutes of a movie?” That was Quentin. He sounded annoyed, but not like he was being threatened.

“Your argument is specious,” countered the second voice. April, who sounded like, well, herself. Not quite bland enough to be a machine, but close. “You are a teenage male. Teenage males like explosions.”

“Generalize much?”

I relaxed before leaning forward and knocking, noting impassively that my brief terror seemed to have helped my exhaustion. The voices went quiet. Then Quentin called, “What’s the password?”

“Do your homework. Now let me in.”

He unlocked and opened the door, revealing April in my abandoned seat. The Hippocampi were clustered at the end of the tank, apparently as unhappy with the Dryad’s presence as they’d been with mine. I looked between them and raised an eyebrow.

“I tested that ‘pager’ thing,” Quentin said. “I just said her name and she showed up. And then we started talking about movies.”

April disappeared from the chair, reappearing next to Quentin. “His taste in plot and construction is contrary to that of most teenage males and does not make sense.”

“Chalk it up to his archaic upbringing,” I said, not bothering to smother my grin. “You two about finished? I need to update Quentin.”

“I have duties which I can attend to,” April replied. Looking toward Quentin, she said, “We will resume at a later point,” and vanished.

“Looks like someone has an admirer,” I said, and closed the door. “She open up at all?”

“Not really,” he said, sitting down again. “I learned that she likes AC current but DC tickles, she likes rabbits, and she thinks computer games are good exercise programs. Oh, and she doesn’t approve of people dying, because it disrupts the production schedule.”

I put the drawer from Barbara’s desk down next to the tank of Hippocampi. “So she doesn’t know anything?”

“If she does, it’s not anything I can get out of her.”

“Great.” I shook my head. “Not exactly useful, but you tried. Good for you.”

“Did you find anything?”

“Well, Barbara was spying for the Duchess of Dreamer’s Glass; I found her files. Everyone in this County has a death wish and insists on hanging out alone. And I need coffee. Get your things, we’re heading for the cafeteria.”

Quentin stood, nodding. “Do we know when my ride’s going to get here?”

“Ready to leave?”

He grimaced. “Ready to not be sitting in this office anymore.”

“I need to make a call anyway; we’ll call Shadowed Hills afterward, see if we can get a status.” I was assuming Tybalt had actually given Sylvester my message, and that someone would be waiting by the pay phone.

“Who are you calling?”

“Jan’s asked me to try summoning the night-haunts.”

Quentin froze, staring at me. “Can you do that?”

“We’ll never know until we try.” I was glad he hadn’t asked who I was calling. We’d both be happier if he didn’t know that part of things until he had to.

“Will they be able to help?”

“I have no idea.” The night-haunts live on the flesh of Faerie. They might decide I was an ideal midnight snack and rip me into pieces . . . but they might also decide to answer my questions. They had to have a way of knowing when anyone with fae blood died; they arrived too quickly not to. If they were capable of thought, they’d have a reason for their actions. They could share it with me. There was a chance that I’d get myself killed in the process, but that’s always a risk; if it worked, it would be worth it.

He watched my face as we left the office, starting down the hall toward the cafeteria. “Toby?”

“Yeah?”

“Is this a good idea?”

“Absolutely not. But it’s the only one I’ve got just now, so we’re going to run with it.”

“Right,” he said, with a sigh.

We walked the rest of the way to the cafeteria in silence. I opened the door to reveal Elliot sitting at one of the tables, staring into his cup. He looked up and smiled when we entered, trying to look like he wasn’t worried. It wasn’t working. “Hey.”

“Do we need to have a talk about what ‘keep someone with you’ means?” I asked, heading for the coffee machine. My exhaustion was fading, replaced by a sense of general irritation with the world. “Why are you here by yourself? Jan’s alone in her office.”

He sighed, putting down his cup. “You’re mad at me.”

“I’m mad at everyone.” I poured myself a cup of coffee as Quentin walked past me to the soda machines. “You’re the third person I’ve found alone. Are you trying to make this harder than it has to be?”

“No, I’m not. I’m sorry.”

“Forget about it,” I said, and took a long gulp of coffee, relaxing as I felt the caffeine starting to hit my system. “Quentin, get something nutritious to go with your soda. A Snickers bar or something.” Peanuts have protein, right? Topping off my coffee, I walked over to the pay phone.

“Dial nine for an outside line,” said Elliot.

“I don’t think that’s going to be an issue.” I put down my coffee, picked up the receiver and pressed my palm against the keypad, hitting all the numbers at once. The smell of grass and copper rose around me, almost cloyingly strong as I chanted, “Reach out, reach out and touch someone.” Quentin and Elliot were looking at me like I was nuts. That was all right; maybe I was.

The silence gave way to clicks, which faded and were replaced by watery ringing. Then a familiar, irritated voice was on the line, saying, “Hello?”

There are times for pleasantries; this wasn’t one of them. “Luidaeg, it’s Toby. I need to summon the night- haunts.” Elliot stiffened. Quentin dropped his soda. Well, they recognized the name.

The Luidaeg was silent so long that I was afraid she’d put the phone down and walked away. Then she snarled something in a language I didn’t recognize before demanding, in English, “What?!”

“I need to summon the night- haunts.” Repetition is sometimes the best way to deal with the Luidaeg: just