A Local Habitation

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 reason you 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 planning to 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 Trek convention?”

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.