Текст книги "A local habitation"

Автор книги: Seanan McGuire

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EIGHTEEN

“WHAT MADE YOU THINK you should come without a car?” I stared at Connor, aghast.

He shrugged, spreading his hands in apology. “I thought you’d let us take yours.”

“Ignoring the part where you just assumed you could commandeer my only means of transport, is there a reasonyou didn’t ask the cab to wait until you’d checked with me?”

Connor shrugged again, looking helpless. “I didn’t think you’d let me in if I had a mortal cabbie with me.”

“He’s right,” Jan said, looking between us. “We wouldn’t have.”

I rolled my eyes heavenward. “Great. Just great.”

Connor’s arrival had triggered an impromptu assembly in the cafeteria; after notifying us of his arrival, April had gone off to tell her mother, who had, quite naturally, summoned Gordan. Recent events meant that it wasn’t a good idea for nonresidents to walk around without an introduction. Only Terrie and Alex had failed to show up, which Jan attributed to the coming end of Terrie’s shift. Quentin looked unaccountably disappointed by Terrie’s absence. I might have been upset over missing Alex, but Connor’s announcement that he’d been planning to take my car had quashed that emotion, covering it with irritation.

“I couldn’t have known that you were planning to blow up your car!” Connor protested.

“I wasn’t planningto blow up my car! It just happened!”

Connor blinked at me. I blinked at Connor. Then, almost in unison, we started laughing. The absurdity of it all was too much. People were dying, Quentin’s ride came without a car, I was exhausted and preparing to summon the night-haunts . . . my choices were “laugh” and “cry.” Laughter seemed healthier.

Jan and Elliot exchanged a look before she cleared her throat and asked, “Should I be concerned by all this? Because if you’re going to have hysterics, I’m going to scream.”

“I think this is normal,” said Quentin, uneasily. “I mean. They’re always like this.”

“Shadowed Hills must be a fascinating place,” said Elliot.

Quentin sighed deeply. “You have no idea.”

I wiped the tears from my eyes, getting myself back under control. “I’m fine. Honest. Connor’s a moron—”

“Hey!”

“—but I’m fine.” I dug my wallet out of my pants pocket, flipping through it until I found Danny’s business card. “Well, you can’t take my car, since it’s sort of ashes right now, but we can call for a nonmortal cabbie. It’ll just take him a little while to get here.” I smiled, rather sharply. “You can tell Sylvester why we had to put a round trip from San Francisco on his tab.”

“Doesn’t anyone here have a car that I can borrow?”

“I rode my bike,” said Jan, apologetically.

“I need my car,” said Elliot. “I’ve been asked to raid the local florists, and that’s difficult to do on the bus.”

Connor blinked. “Raid the local florists for what?”

“I’ll explain later,” I said.

“Toby’s summoning the night-haunts,” said Quentin.

“. . . or not,” I said, as Gordan and Connor exclaimed, in unison, “What?!”

“You can’t be serious.” Connor looked alarmed as he stepped toward me, raising one hand to brush the bandages on my cheek. “You’re already hurt. What if they go for you?”

“The Luidaeg gave me a ritual to keep them from hurting me.”

“This is supposed to calm me down because . . . ?” he asked. “She’s ancient and oh, right, crazy. She’s going to get you killed.”

I reached up, catching his hand and holding it firmly. “I trust her. It’ll be fine.”

I’m a good liar—I’ve had years of practice—and I’ve been lying to Connor longer than I’ve been lying to almost anyone else. He searched my face for a moment, and was apparently reassured by what he found there, because he squeezed my fingers, raising our joined hands to rest his knuckles very lightly against my cheek.

“You look like shit, Daye.”

“You don’t look so good yourself.” I was lying again, but at least this time I didn’t feel bad about it. Connor O’Dell is capable of a lot of things. Looking “not so good” isn’t one of them.

He was tall, lean, and still managed to be fairly compact; if Alex was the magazine cover-model version of the California surfer, Connor was the real thing, right down to the calluses on his hands and the cut of his hair—long enough to be attractive, short enough that the waves wouldn’t plaster it down over his drowningly dark Selkie eyes.

“Yeah, well. When His Grace decides to ship me off to Fremont at a moment’s notice, I get a little worried.” He held my hand where it was for a moment more before releasing it and turning to offer Jan a wry smile. “It’s good to see that she doesn’t just cause collateral damage at home.”

“It’s been educational,” Jan agreed, holding out her hand. “Toby, you want me to call that guy for you?”

“Please.” I passed her Danny’s card. “Tell him it’s for me, and he’ll come. I mean, he’ll bill through the nose once he realizes I’m not going to be the one in the cab, but that’s why Sylvester has a bank account, right?”

Jan grinned. “Right.”

“If you’ll all excuse me, I’d like to get started on those errands,” said Elliot. “The sun should be up any moment now, which will herald the opening of the flower shops. Gordan, would you mind accompanying me?”

For a moment, Gordan looked like she was looking for an excuse to refuse. Then she shrugged, scowling, and said, “Better than hanging around this mortuary.”

“April will stay with me,” Jan said. “That way, I can get some work done, but I won’t be alone. Fair?”

“Fair,” I allowed. “If you see Terrie or Alex, tell them we’re setting up base here in the cafeteria. We’ll just get my things from Colin’s office.” I didn’t want to try cramming Connor, Quentin, and myself into the relatively small office for any length of time; someone would wind up with a bloody nose. Since it would take Danny at least half an hour to get to us, we needed to move to a bigger space.

“Got it,” said Jan, giving me a small half-salute. And with that, we scattered.

For once, I was awake at dawn and didn’t really mind that much. The sun came up when we were halfway down the hall, and Quentin, Connor, and I stopped where we were, leaning on each other’s arms until the moment passed and we were able to breathe again. Connor grinned goofily, taking a little longer than was necessary to let go of me as he straightened.

“Remember that time we almost got caught out, and you pulled the blue eye shadow out of your purse and smeared it on your cheeks so you could tell people we were on our way to a Star Trekconvention?”

Quentin blinked at him. I bit back a groan.

“Embarrassing stories later, paperwork now, please,” I said, and herded them toward the end of the hall with Connor snickering all the way.

His snickering stopped when we entered the office. He took in the posters on the walls and the tank of Hippocampi before turning to me, asking, “Whose office is this?”

“Was. Colin Dunne’s.” He paled. I cocked my head to the side. “You knew him?”

“Not well, but, yeah, I did. How . . . ?”

“Same way as everyone else here: under circumstances we don’t understand just yet. We’re working on it. That’s why you’re getting Quentin the hell out of here, remember?”

Connor nodded, very slowly. “Where’s his skin?”

His . . . oh, oak and ash. Groaning, I put a hand over my face. “It was in the car.”

“The car.”

“Yeah.”

“Which exploded.”

“Uh-huh.”

“With Colin’s skin inside it.” He was starting to get angry; I could hear it in his tone.

I dropped my hand to see Quentin looking back and forth between us in utter confusion. Poor kid was probably fostered from a landlocked state. He wouldn’t understand the succession laws of the Selkie families.

“It wasn’t intentional. The car seemed like the best place at the time. It just—”

“How the hell am I supposed to tell his family that not only is Colin dead, but his skin’s been lost? ‘So sorry, you’re down a member, forever?’ Oberon’s teeth,October, do you understand what a big deal this is? Did you even think—”

“You need to take some sort of sedative,” commented Alex from the doorway. “Valium, maybe. Or just weed. Colin was a big smoker, there’s probably a dime bag somewhere in here.” He was rumpled, like he’d just gotten out of bed, wearing jeans and a black T-shirt that read “Mathematicians Do It by the Numbers.”

I smiled. I couldn’t help it. “Alex. Hey. We missed you last night.”

“Sometimes, even I must go off duty.” He entered the office, walking over to offer Connor his hand. “Alex Olsen. Pleasure to meet you.”

Connor didn’t take the hand. He just scowled at him. “I’m not sure your opinion was asked for.”

“True, it wasn’t.” Alex dropped his hand, looking entirely unbothered by Connor’s reaction. “Toby, you need me to help carry anything? Jan said you guys were setting up in the caf, and I just wanted to see if you needed any manual labor.”

“Here.” I passed him the drawer I’d taken from Barbara’s desk. “Where’s your sister?”

“Asleep in her office,” said Alex. “Don’t worry. Nothing’s going to happen to her.”

“You’re sure . . . ?”

“Terrie’s safe as houses.” He smiled. “Nothing bothers her when she’s sleeping.”

“If you’re sure. Quentin, Connor, get the rest of those folders. You’re staying where I can keep an eye on you until Danny gets here.” United by their apparently mutual irritation, they nodded, picking up the folders and heading for the door. Connor “accidentally” hit Alex with his elbow as he passed. I raised an eyebrow. “Behold the maturity.”

“I get it a lot,” said Alex, with a shrug. “After you.”

I considered him for a moment and then nodded, following Connor and Quentin into the hall. “We’d better be quick, before they get themselves lost forever.”

“Would that be such a shame?”

“Don’t tempt me.”

The brief ease we’d shared was gone, washed away by the tension. I eyed Quentin and Connor as we walked into the cafeteria, dumping my own share of the files on a table before heading to the pay phone. “Make yourselves useful and start putting those in alphabetical order.”

“I’m your secretary now?” Connor asked, still looking annoyed.

“Consider yourselves the clerical pool,” I snapped back, and dialed.

My suspicions about the phones were justified; the phone barely managed to ring before it was snatched up, and Sylvester’s voice was saying, “October? Is that you? Are you there? Are you all right?”

“Whoa—I didn’t think you’d be the one on phone duty.” The image of Sylvester spending the night standing by the pay phone, waiting for news, was funny and tragic all at the same time. He couldn’t help. I was miles away with his niece and his foster, and he couldn’t do a thing but wait.

“What’s going on? Is Connor there?”

“He’s here, but, well . . . he didn’t bring a car. We’re calling for a cab, but it’ll be a little while. Your Grace, I need to tell you what I’m planning. I’m going to summon—”

“Don’t worry about that; I don’t need to know. I trust your judgment. There’s been a change of plans.”

I blinked. “What?”

“It’s not safe for them to be on the roads. Tell Connor that he’s to stay with you until your business there is done, and you can all return to Shadowed Hills together.”

“With all due respect, Your Grace, I don’t think you quite understand just how bad things are getting over here. We’ve got a lot of dead bodies in the basement, for a start, and that never strikes me as a good sign.”

“There’s nowhere safer than by your side.”

I couldn’t decide whether his faith in me was touching or insane. “Your Grace—”

“Just tell him to stay with you. Please, October. This will all be over soon.”

“I don’t think this is a good idea.”

“Trust me.”

That was that. Sylvester was my liege; if he wanted me to keep Connor and Quentin in Tamed Lightning, I didn’t exactly have a choice. I set the receiver back in the cradle, turning to face the trio who had watched curiously throughout the call.

“There’s been a change of plans,” I said, slowly. And with Oberon as my witness, I had no idea what I was going to do about it.

NINETEEN

“TOBY?” SAID QUENTIN HESITANTLY.

“What?” I was sitting at one of the cafeteria’s many tables with my head in my hands, fingers buried in my hair, trying to figure out what to do next. Recognizing my mood, Alex and Connor had been walking on eggshells since I got off the phone. Alex had even gone so far as to scrounge a box of donuts from somewhere in the kitchen before going off to tell Jan to call Danny and tell him not to come, while Connor brewed a fresh pot of coffee. Maybe more than one; every time someone refilled my cup, I drained it, making it impossible to judge exactly how much caffeine I’d had.

“If we’re staying, does that mean we get to help you summon the night-haunts?”

“No.” I raised my head, giving him a stern look. “It means Connor gets to keep an eye on you while I deal with them.”

He frowned. “But if I’m here . . .”

“Quentin, look.” I sighed. “If it weren’t for the part where they’re as likely to kill and eat me as they are to answer my questions, I might say yes. But the Luidaeg said that it’s a solo summoning. If it comes from more than one person, it’s not solo.”

“Hang on.” Connor lowered his half-eaten donut, eyeing me. “Kill and eat you? No one said anything to me about killing and eating. I am not in favor of you being killed and eaten.”

“We need to talk to them, and this is the only way. Believe me, I don’t want to. I’m scared stiff.” I wasn’t exaggerating. I was terrified, but it was too late to do anything about it. I was committed to summoning the night-haunts.

“I don’t think this is a good plan,” Connor said, reaching out to grab my wrist. “Get a better plan. A plan with less inherent death.”

“Weren’t you mad at me a little while ago for crisping a Selkie skin?”

“It’ll be hard to be mad at you when you’re dead, Daye.” He tightened his grip, holding on for just a beat too long before he let me go. The warmth from his fingers lingered on my skin, reassuring me.

“Look, guys. This is going to happen, whether any of us like it or not. We may as well just try to do it right.” I rose, taking my cup as I moved to check the cupboards near the coffee machine. They were a jumbled mess, but the third one yielded an almost full container of sea salt. “Elliot was right.” I put it down on the counter before turning back to Quentin and Connor. “I’ll have all the supplies I need to make this as safe as possible. Connor, I don’t care what Sylvester says. If it looks like things are getting worse—”

“I take Quentin and run. Got it.”

I risked a smile. Maybe having him around wouldn’t be so bad after all. I’d still worry about Quentin, but Connor provided a layer of backup that I’d been missing since leaving Shadowed Hills. All I had to do was keep myself from looking into his eyes long enough to remember why it wasn’t a good idea for me to be alone with him. “Good. Are there any chocolate donuts left in that box?”

“Saved you two,” he said, and grinned.

“Excellent.”

I was halfway through the second donut when Alex came rushing back into the cafeteria, the color high in his cheeks: a man on a mission. “Toby!” he called. “Jan wants to see you.”

“What’s up?” I put my donut down on the counter, then, regretfully, put my coffee down beside it. “Connor, Quentin, wait here. Do notgo anywhere alone. I mean it. If one of you needs to pee, you go together and you leave a note. You got me?”

“Yes, ma’am,” said Connor, mock meekly, before shooting a glare at Alex. Quentin just snorted.

“I’m taking that as agreement, Quentin,” I said. “Alex, lead the way.”

“Gladly.”

Alex led me out of the cafeteria and down the hallway to a door I didn’t recognize. Not that that meant much; I was learning some of the landmarks, but I’d given up on real navigation. He pushed it open, and I stepped through, onto a patch of lawn shaded by spreading elm trees.

I blinked, first at the lawn, then at Alex. “Where’s Jan?”

“Not here.” He grinned, sunlight slanting down through the trees and sparking highlights from his hair. Then there was no more talking, because he had his arms around my waist, pulling me close as he kissed me.

The first time I kissed Alex, it was a pleasant surprise. The second time was less surprising, if no less pleasant. The third time, it was like someone had just set my hormones on overdrive. I relaxed into his arms, plastering myself against him, returning the kiss with interest. His hands came up, snarling themselves in my hair, pulling me closer still as the smell of coffee and clover rose around us, almost overwhelming the green smells of the outdoors.

Coffee and clover. In my hotel room, I’d taken the smell to be an aftereffect of the illusion that made him look human. Here, standing on the lawn, neither of us was wearing a human disguise. Neither of us was casting any sort of spell at all. So why could I smell magic?

Startled, I pushed myself away from him so fast that I bit my lip, breaking the skin and spreading the taste of blood across my tongue. Alex stared at me, poppy-orange eyes wide in something that looked first like confusion—and then, as my shock and outrage spread across my face, like shame.

“Oh,” he said softly.

“Oh?” His arms were still around my waist. I pushed him again. He didn’t let go. I pushed harder, sending him stumbling into the nearest tree as I took a few rapid, stuttering steps backward. The smell of coffee and clover was getting thicker, hanging in the air like cheap perfume. “What are you doing, Alex?”

“Nothing! I—I’m not doing anything. Come on, Toby. Please.” He held out his hands toward me. “You just need to calm down. Come on over here.”

I wanted to. Oh, oak and ash, I wanted to. It was like a small voice in the back of my head was saying, It’s all right. He’s not a bad guy. You want this as much as he does. You’d have wanted this anyway. Don’t be silly. Just go.

I took a shaky step forward before I caught myself. Biting my lip again, I clung to the hot taste of my own blood like it was a lifeline, and hissed, “You stop that right now, Alex, or I swear you won’t be worrying about mysterious murderers anymore. What. Are. You. Doing?”

“What do you mean?” he asked, eyes going wide and innocent. The smell of clover was cloying, overwhelming the coffee and threatening to overwhelm even the taste of blood.

“You know what I mean. Stop it. I don’t want this.”

“Does it matter? If you feel it, does it matter?” He was almost pleading.

I didn’t care. “Yes!” I balled up my hands, digging my nails into my palms and focusing on the pain. “I refuse to be in love with you!”

“Are you sure?” he asked. He took three long steps, put his hands on my shoulders, and kissed me again.

There was a moment of bewilderment before I realized what he was doing, and by then it was too late. The smell of coffee and clover rose, stronger than ever, and I melted into him, my body refusing to let me do anything else. I was trapped. The worst of it was that I couldn’t figure out who’d betrayed me more—him, by being whatever he was, or me, for being stupid enough to get myself caught. His hands slid down to the small of my back, pulling me closer as the taste of coffee threatened to overwhelm the taste of blood.

It was getting harder to think about anything but kissing him. Dimly, I understood that if this didn’t stop now, it wasn’t going to stop at all. We’d wind up going places I didn’t want to go, and I’d say yes every step along the way.

Mustering what control I had left, I pulled back, only half-pretending the need to catch my breath. He loosened his grip, and I twisted my head to the side until I couldn’t see his eyes before biting down hard on my tongue. Blood filled my mouth, washing away the clover and coffee, and suddenly I could think again.

Alex pulled away from me, sensing the danger in my sudden stiffness, and I shoved him back as hard as I could. For the second time, he went stumbling into the tree; this time, he stayed where he was, watching me warily, not advancing.

“You bastard!” I drew Dare’s knife from my belt, holding it in front of me. I didn’t intend to use it, but I didn’t want him coming near me again. “What are you?”

“Toby . . .” His eyes flicked from me to the blade and back again. “It isn’t . . .”

“Shut up.” Showing an unexpected degree of self-preservation, he did as he was told. I narrowed my eyes. “Now, I’m asking you again. What are you?”

“Scared,” he said, softly. “I’m scared, Toby. I want someone to hold me and say it’s going to be all right. Don’t you want that, too? Just for a little while?”

For a moment, he almost had me. Then I swallowed, blood coating my tongue, and he lost me again. “Not like this. Never like this. Is this some sort of game? Do you and your sister try this routine on everyone who comes here? What kind of glamour are you using?” I was shaking, and not entirely from anger. Part of me wanted to dive right back into his arms, but I wasn’t giving in.

He sighed, seeming to deflate. “It’s not a glamour, exactly. I’m sorry. We can’t help it. It just . . . comes naturally.”

“And the way you act? Kissing me? That comes naturally, too?” Whatever bloodline they descended from, I never wanted to meet a pureblood.

“It does. Toby, believe me, this isn’t something I do to every woman who comes along. I really like you. And—”

“Don’t talk to me. You make me sick. And tell your sister that if she touches Quentin—if she comes nearhim—we’re leaving. Sylvester will understand when I tell him why. You got that?”

Paling, he nodded.

“Just so we understand each other. What are you?”

“Toby . . .”

“What areyou?”

“Please.”

I looked at him for a moment before sliding my knife back into my belt. “If that’s the way you want it. I’ll ask Jan. Now go find your sister and stay with her. I don’t want you anywhere near the rest of us.”

He looked at me bleakly. For a moment, I thought he was going to argue—but the moment passed, and he turned, walking inside without another word. I waited until he was gone before sitting down hard on the grass, sticking my head between my knees. The world seemed to be spinning with a nauseating mix of adrenaline and magically induced attraction. What had I been thinking?

That was an easy one to answer: I hadn’t been thinking at all. Alex had been doing it for me. If it hadn’t been for the blood, I might not have figured it out. I might have just gone along, thinking it was my own idea. I shuddered and shook the thought away, lifting my head.

Half a dozen cats had appeared on the lawn around me, watching me with unblinking eyes. “What?” I demanded. They didn’t reply. Taking a slow breath, I stood, catching myself against the nearest tree when the world spun around me.

I was so tired I didn’t even want to think, but that didn’t matter; Alex wouldn’t come near me again, and I was pretty sure he’d warn Terrie away from Quentin. They had to be at least that smart, and for the moment, I needed to put them aside and get back to work.

Connor and Quentin looked up when I stepped back into the cafeteria. Quentin paled while Connor bolted to his feet, crossing the floor in five huge, ground-eating steps. “Toby? What happened? You’re bleeding!”

It was too much. People were dead, Sylvester wasn’t letting me get Quentin out of harm’s way, I hadn’t slept in over a day, and we didn’t have a vehicle capable of getting us out under our own power. No matter how I looked at things, we were screwed.

I put my arms around Connor, put my head on his shoulder, and cried. He raised one hand to stroke my hair, somewhat unsteadily. I saw Quentin out of the corner of my eye, pretending not to see us. That’s another thing they teach courtiers young: discretion.

It took a few minutes for me to get control of myself. I straightened, wiping my eyes and sniffling. I’m not pretty when I cry. My nose goes red and the skin around my eyes gets puffy. Mom gave me blood magic, Dad gave me the ability to cry myself into disreputability.

“You okay?” asked Connor. “Do you need to sit down? Or put an ice pack on your lip?” He paused, expression darkening. “It was that Alex guy, wasn’t it? Did he hit you?”

The image of Connor going off to avenge my honor was just ludicrous enough to kill the urge to cry again. I giggled helplessly instead, moving to sit down in one of the uncomfortable plastic chairs before my giggles turned into full-fledged laughter. Quentin and Connor watched with wide eyes and almost matching baffled expressions, which just made me laugh harder.

“Does she do this often?” asked Quentin, cautiously.

“Not often, no,” said Connor. “Toby? Does that mean I don’t need to go hit him?”

“He’s six inches taller than you,” I managed, between gales of laughter. “He’d smash you.”

“Yes, but I’d be smashed with honor,” said Connor.

That set me off again, and it was several minutes before I calmed down enough to clear my throat, wipe my eyes again, and say, “Okay, guys, serious now.”

“Serious,” said Quentin, still eyeing me with suspicion, like he expected me to burst into a new flavor of hysterics at any second.

“Alex didn’t hit me.” Connor relaxed, only to tense again when I said, “I hit myself.”

“Toby . . .”

“I needed the blood.” I looked between them. “Look, I don’t know what he and his sister are—he managed to talk me out of making him tell me—but whatever it is, they’ve got some sort of fucked-up glamour going on, and it’s a strong one. I nearly had to chew a hole through my tongue to keep myself from—” Going off with him and not showing back up until morning.“—kissing him. Even though I knew I didn’t want to.”

Connor’s eyes widened. “You’re kidding.”

“I’m not. You see a dark– haired lady with orange eyes, you don’t go anywhere with her alone. You’ll find yourself allowing liberties that Raysel probably won’t approve of.”

He reddened, looking away. Quentin frowned, looking thoughtful. “Does it count as being unfaithful to Katie if I wanted to be with Terrie?”

“No. It might if you’d actually done anything, but you can’t help being enchanted.” I hoped he’d believe me, because I honestly wasn’t sure. You can’t really get away with saying “magic doesn’t count” when you’re living in Faerie. Still, it was a good question.

My answer appeared to reassure him, because he nodded. “All right. What do we do?”

Seeing that look on his face—the look that said he knew I’d have all the answers, and that if he asked the questions right, I’d share them—made me want to run for the hills. I stood, ignoring the unsteadiness in my legs. No matter how shaken I was, I needed to keep moving. “All right, it’s what, one-thirty? Two o’clock?”

“Two fifteen,” said Connor.

“Close enough. We’re going to get some work done.”

“Work?” Connor raised his eyebrows.

“Work.” I moved to the pile of folders covering one of the cafeteria tables. “Quentin, you’ve got A through L. Connor, you’ve got M through Z. I want you to pull anything that looks even a little bit weird.”

“What are you going to do?” asked Quentin, even as he started to do what I’d asked.

“Go through these.” I lifted Barbara’s desk drawer. “There may be something here that tells us where to look next.”

“I didn’t know I was coming to play secretary,” grumbled Connor.

“Then you should’ve brought a car.”

The next several hours passed in the sort of mind-numbing grind that was so familiar from past cases. We shuffled files, looked for connections, made more coffee. Rearranged papers, checked time stamps, made more coffee. Jan wandered through, accompanied by April, to drop off a fresh pile of folders and get a candy bar from the machine. I acknowledged her presence with a grunt and a vague wave of one hand, too deeply engrossed in the tangled list of names that represented the company’s lifetime employee tracking to realize I was missing the opportunity to ask her about Alex’s heritage. That realization came later.

And time rolled on.

“Toby?”

“What?”

“It’s four.”

I looked up. “In the afternoon?”

“Yes.” Quentin nodded. Connor was still bent over his own pile, grumbling. “When are you supposed to . . . ?”

“Sunset.” I rose, closing the binder. “Time to get to work.”

“What can we do?”

Get the hell out of here before something happens to you.“You still have those juniper berries?” He handed them to me silently, and I walked over to the counter, putting the mandrake root and juniper berries down next to the sea salt. “Elliot should be back with the flowers soon. It was a pretty big list, but there must be plenty of local florists.”

A faint buzz in the air warned of April’s approach before she appeared, clutching a small plastic bag. I didn’t flinch this time. Connor did the flinching for me, recoiling so hard that his chair went toppling over.

I smothered a snicker. “Hey, April.”

“I was instructed to monitor for signs of ritual preparation. I have brought you candles and feathers.” She offered me the bag. I took it. “I have also been instructed to inquire regarding further needs.” She paused. “Do you have further needs?”

“Actually, there’s something I wanted to ask.” Seeing that she wasn’t going to react until the question was asked, I continued, “Do you know who was nearest Barbara when she died?” It was a shot in the dark, but one worth taking: if April knew where everyone in the knowe was at all times, she might be able to tell me.

April frowned. “Define ‘died.’ ”

I paused. She’d never used the word “dead” in conjunction with any of the bodies. “Was removed from the network?” I ventured, trying to use words she’d understand.

“The time of removal is not recorded.” Her voice was calm, like she was reporting something of no real consequence. Maybe, from her perspective, she was.

“I thought you knew where everyone in the company was at any given time?”

“Yes. I am aware of current locations. I am not aware of past locations unless I have had reason to take note of them.” She shrugged. “Do you require anything further?”

“No; you can go.” I needed to think about this—but later, after the night-haunts had come and gone. Assuming I was still thinking about anything by that point.

“Noted,” she said, and vanished in a spray of sparks.

“What the . . .” Connor began.

“Dryad who lives in the local computer network,” said Quentin, sounding disinterested. I had to smother another snicker. The kid was definitely learning about playing blasé.