A Local Habitation

“Yes . . .” Elliot said.

“Good. We’re going to move him there. Connor will stand guard. Sylvester’s on his way; I’m going to call and tell him to hurry, but I don’t know whether he’ll have left already. If he’s not here by sunset, I’m taking your car, and I’m taking Quentin home.” I looked at Elliot. “I refuse to let him die here. Do you understand?”

“You’ll abandon us?” Alex asked, horrified. I felt the half-familiar tickle of desire kindle in my stomach, and shoved it down again as hard as I could. He might be a master of glamour, but I was a Daoine Sidhe covered in blood, and few things are harder to control.

“I’ll come back, but yes. If it’s a matter of saving Quentin’s life, I will leave.” I looked to Gordan. “Is it safe to move him?”

“I’d recommend it,” she said. “This place is trashed.”

“And infection’s always a risk. Got it.” I stepped over, and knelt by Quentin’s head, asking, “Quentin, can you hear me?” There was no reply. I watched him for a moment to be sure that he was breathing. “Okay. He’s out.”

“I don’t think—”

“Elliot, shut up.” I said.

“I’ve got him,” said Connor, moving to Quentin’s other side.

“Good. Elliot, come get his feet. Connor, you’ve got the unhurt arm—just slide your hands under him. One, two, up.” The three of us lifted together, getting Quentin safely off the floor. “Alex, get the door.”

“I don’t think this is a good idea,” he said, but moved to push the door open.

“And what would be? Leaving him here? Going back to Shadowed Hills? Tell me, O wise one.” I glared at him, shifting my grip on Quentin.

Alex sighed. “I don’t think there are any good ideas left. Come on. It’s this way.”

We made a funny parade. Alex led the way, with April appearing and disappearing beside or ahead of him. Connor, Elliot, and I took the middle, fighting not to jar Quentin any more than we had to, and Gordan brought up the rear. We were all jumpy, even April, and we flinched from the slightest noises.

Nothing attacked.

Gordan took charge again in the break room, barking directions as we settled Quentin on the futon and tucked a pillow behind his head. The tattered, filthy condition of his clothes brought a fresh scowl to her face. Eyes narrowed, she targeted on Elliot. “This is an infection risk,” she said.

“What do you want me to do about it?” he asked. He didn’t sound defensive; just tired.

“Take care of it. Them, too.” She jerked a thumb toward me and Connor. “Infection risk. Also, they smell lousy.”

“Of course.” He sighed, turning toward us. “Embarrassed as I am to ask under these circumstances . . . may I clean you?”

“Sure,” said Connor.

“Of course,” I said. I was still bleeding, and that was probably going to hurt, but that wasn’t as important as getting Quentin taken care of. Anything that reduced the risk of infection was all right by me. “You have my consent for Quentin, too.”

“April, you should go now; this is bad for your circuits.” The Dryad vanished. Elliot raised his hands. “If you would please cover his nose?”

“Got it.” I put my hands over Quentin’s mouth and nose, closing my own eyes. Heat and moisture surrounded me, accompanied by the feeling of hundreds of small, scrubbing hands. The cuts on my face stung like fire, but I held myself firmly in check, keeping Quentin’s face covered. I just had to hope he wouldn’t wake up and panic in the middle of the process.

The dampness abated. I opened my eyes, straightening. Quentin looked almost infinitely better, clean, groomed, wearing clothes that seemed almost new. Connor and I had received the same treatment, and even the dressing on my hand had been repaired, becoming smooth and snowy white. That’s Faerie for you, split between psychopaths and people who can steam clean your entire body with a thought.

Gordan bent to adjust the bandages on Quentin’s arm. “He needs sleep. You should check him once an hour, at least, and get him to a healer as soon as you can.”

“I will,” I said.

“Great. I’m going back to my desk.” She started for the door.

I cleared my throat. “Not alone.”

“What?”

“You can’t go alone.”

“I’ll go,” said Alex, looking from me to Quentin and back. “I have stuff to do anyway.”

“Fine,” said Gordan sullenly, and stepped out of the room. Alex gave me a mournful look and followed her. Neither one said good-bye.

I sat on the edge of the futon, jerking a thumb toward the door. “What’s his problem?”

“Other than being one of Nature’s grade- A ass-holes?” Connor asked, stepping over next to me. He didn’t sit, for which I was grateful; we didn’t want to jostle Quentin.

“He likes you, and he feels that he’s upset you,” Elliot said, moving to close the door.

“He did upset me. Has he pulled this ‘you must love me’ stunt with anyone else, or am I lucky?” Connor shot me a startled look, which I did my best to ignore.

Elliot sighed. “Would it matter if I said he can’t really help it?”

“Not when he tried to take advantage of me.” There’s room in Faerie for everything. That doesn’t mean I need to put up with it. “He kissed me. After I told him not to.”

“Now I want to hit him even more,” Connor said darkly.

“Sometimes Alex has . . . poor impulse control,” said Elliot. “I apologize.”

“I don’t care. If he touches me again, I’ll break his face. We clear?”

“We’re clear.” Elliot looked from me to Connor, and asked, “Did you need a phone?”

“Please. I need to call Sylvester.” It was obvious he didn’t want to continue the discussion. Fine. I meant what I’d said; if he didn’t want to listen, that was his problem.

“I’ll get you one of the modified mobiles.” He raised his hand, adding, “And I’ll call for April. I won’t go alone.”

“Good,” I said. “We’ll wait.”

“Of course.” He stepped out of the room, closing the door.

“Toby—”

“Hang on a second, Connor, okay?” Twisting around to face Quentin, I asked, “So, how much of that did you catch?”

He opened his eyes, blinking. “How did you know?”

“You think I’ve never played possum? You breathe differently when you’re awake.”

“I woke up a while ago,” he admitted. “I just thought it’d be a good idea not to react.”

“Good plan. You feeling okay?”

“My arm hurts like . . .” He winced. “It hurts a lot.”

“That’s normal with gunshots, I’m afraid. It’ll heal.”

“Good.”

“Elliot’s bringing a phone. I’m going to let Sylvester know what’s going on, see if they can get here any faster. And if he says they can’t, I’m calling Danny. He must know someone with a cab around here.”

“This is such a goddamn mess,” said Connor, shaking his head.

“Hey.” Quentin managed a wan smile. “The Duke wanted me to learn some stuff.”

“Well, you’re learning.” I returned his smile, doing my best to make it look genuine, and stood. “Connor, you’re not going to like this—”

“If you’re about to say what I think you’re about to say, you’re right.”

“—but I need you to stay here with Quentin.”

“You’re right,” he said, grimly. “I don’t like it. Reasoning?”

“I don’t want to leave him alone.”

“So you’re just going to wander off on your own?”