A Local Habitation

TWENTY-FOUR

IT TOOK GORDAN TEN MINUTES to splint Quentin’s arm and get a pressure bandage in place. I helped as much as I could, holding his head when she had him stretched out on the floor, fetching and carrying things from her first aid kit. I’ve never been interested in emergency medicine, but I was starting to think I needed to learn. The people around me get shot too often.

I couldn’t keep the image of Ross out of my head. Just like Quentin, he was shot when he was with me; unlike Quentin, he took the bullet in the head. All that saved Quentin from the same fate was the fact that my paranoia wouldn’t allow me to ignore a glint of motion in a supposedly empty room. If I’d been paying less attention—if I’d been just a little bit more self-absorbed—I’d have lost him.

Oak and ash. That was too damn close.

April watched for a long time before she asked timidly, “Is he leaving the network?”

“What? No! No.” I glared. I couldn’t help myself. “He’s going to be fine.”

“I am glad,” she said, voice grave. “Do you require further assistance?”

I looked at Quentin’s silent, tear-streaked face—when did he get that pale? How could he be so pale and still be breathing?—and said, “Can you go get Elliot for us, please? We’re going to need help moving him.”

“Yes,” April said, disappearing.

When I raised my head, Gordan was staring at me. “What?”

“I told you he didn’t belong here.” She tied off another strip of gauze. “Guys like him are too delicate for this kind of thing.”

“Don’t start, Gordan.” I pushed my hair back, ignoring the way it caught at my blood-tacky hands. I was filthy. For the moment, I really didn’t care. “It’s not his fault someone decided to pick us off.”

“So whose is it? Yours?”

Her words stung more than I wanted to let them. “No. It’s just the way it is.”

“Uh-huh. Let me tell you about ‘the way it is.’ ” Her finger stabbed toward Quentin’s chest. “You see how he’s breathing? He lost a lot of blood. I mean a lot of blood. I can’t do stitches, and I can’t do blood transfusions. You’re going to get that boy to a healer or a hospital, or he’s going to die. So pick one. Or is that too much like accepting responsibility?”

“I’m not listening to you.”

“Of course you’re not. I suppose you’re not going to listen when I tell you that you can’t take him to a hospital, either.” She started cramming bloodstained first aid supplies back into the box. “Get out of here, or he’s a casualty. That plain enough for you?”

“What the fuck do you want from me? Sylvester’s already on the way. I can’t get us out of here any faster without a flying carpet!”

“Sorry, I left mine at home,” Quentin said, his voice a faint croak.

“You’re awake,” I said, bending over him again. “Don’t try to move.”

“Wouldn’t,” he said, and smiled—very slightly. “See? I follow orders.”

Connor barked an unsteady laugh. Gordan snorted. I shot her a warning look, saying, “April’s getting Elliot, and we’re going to move you.”

“Can’t leave.”

“Quentin . . .”

“No.” He opened his eyes. They were pained but clear. “Let me wait until His Grace comes. We’ll never avenge them if you leave now.”

“I can’t keep you here.” I knew how ludicrous we looked—both of us covered in blood, arguing. Never let it be said that fate doesn’t have a sense of humor.

“Can’t risk moving me, either.” He closed his eyes again. “Put me in a room with a lock. I’ll be fine.”

“Suicidal jerk,” Gordan said. I looked up. This time she met my eyes. “Are you going to let him decide whether or not he stays and dies?”

“Why not? I let the rest of you.” I stroked Quentin’s hair back with one hand, and looked to the door. There were footsteps coming down the hall. “Of course, unless that’s Elliot, it may be a moot point.” Connor’s hand found mine, and took it.

“Ha ha. Very funny.” Still, Gordan turned to watch the door, shoulders tense, and didn’t relax until Elliot stepped inside, followed by Alex. April appeared in her usual burst of static, standing several feet away from the new arrivals.

“I have brought him,” she said. It almost sounded like she was seeking approval.

“You did good,” I said, and stood. Elliot and Alex had both stopped just inside the door, eyes wide, staring at Quentin. I cleared my throat. “Hi.”

“Toby!” Elliot turned. “What happened?”

“Someone tried to kill us,” I said.

I couldn’t have gotten a better result if I’d tried. Elliot staggered, and Alex stared. “What?” he said, blankly.

“Kill us. Someone tried to kill us.” I shook my head. “There were two shots. The first missed. The second got Quentin.”

“He’s a lucky bastard,” said Gordan, standing. “They shattered the bones, but missed the artery. A little further and he would’ve bled to death before I got here.”

I shuddered, unable to hide it this time, and said, “We’ve already gone over why I can’t take him to a hospital. Does the room where I was napping earlier have a lock?”

“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?”

“I’m not badly wounded enough that I can’t do my goddamn job.”

“Yeah, well, you seem determined to change that if you can.” Connor glared, eyes dark and angry. “This isn’t a good idea.”

“So you’d rather I left Quentin here by himself?”

“I’d rather you didn’t go anywhere at all!”

“I have to,” I said, with sincere sorrow in my tone. “People are still dying.”

Connor looked at me, anger fading. I glanced toward Quentin. His eyes were closed again, shutting out our argument. He was staying put, no matter what we decided.

Closing the distance between Connor and me was easy. Closing the distance between his lips and mine was the work of years. He kissed me like he was a drowning sailor instead of a Selkie, pulling me as close as he could. I returned the favor, plastering myself against him until the scrapes on my hands and the bruises on my knees protested. I ignored them in favor of the salt-sweet taste of his skin and the feeling of his heartbeat filtered through his chest into mine, running faster for the longer that we held each other there. It had been so long since we touched each other. Somehow, our bodies still knew the way.

Finally, regretfully, we let each other go, neither stepping back for a few seconds. Both of us were breathing just a little too fast.

“Don’t you dare die,” he hissed, forehead almost touching mine before he stepped back. I hadn’t known how much comfort I was taking from his heartbeat until I couldn’t feel it anymore.

“Do my best.” On that uninspiring note, I left the room. The lock clicked home behind me almost as soon as the door was closed, and I leaned against the wall, groaning.

This mess kept getting deeper. I’d kissed Connor. Rayseline would kill me if she ever found out. And at the moment, that was the least of my problems, because someone in the building with me was a much more immediate threat. It couldn’t be April—she was too upset when Jan died—and I could eliminate Elliot the same way. Gordan would have been in the running if it weren’t for Barbara, but I couldn’t see Gordan killing her best friend, even if they were fighting. Who did that leave? I knew where everyone was during at least one murder, even Alex . . .

Everyone but Terrie. Terrie, who found the first body. Terrie, who hadn’t lost anyone who seemed to be particularly important to her. Terrie, whose mourning verged on parody, even when people were dying all around her. Most damning of all, Terrie, who’d been nowhere to be seen during the search for Jan.

I started to pace, looking for an explanation that didn’t leave Terrie as our killer. I wasn’t finding one. By the time Elliot returned, I was so deep in my own thoughts that I didn’t hear him approach. He cleared his throat. I jumped.

“Don’t do that!”

“Sorry,” said Elliot, grimacing, and held up a portable phone. “I had to find one that was modified and charged. My battery died yesterday, and the charger’s at home.”

“It’s all right,” I said, getting my breath back. “I’m just jumpy.”

“I think we all are,” he said, handing me the phone. “I’m glad you’re staying.”

“Quentin’s out of here as soon as the cavalry comes, but I’ll be here as long as I can. We need to stop this while some of us are still alive.”

He smiled bitterly. He’d already lost everyone he really cared about. Someday I’ll learn to think before opening my mouth. “Do you have any ideas?” he asked.

“Does anyone here have a gun registered in their name?”

“Barbara did.”

“Well, somebody stole her gun.” I sighed. “It’s a local. Monsters don’t use guns.” He flinched. “It’s the only answer I can see. I’m here to save you if I can. Not to coddle you.”

“I know. I just can’t believe one of us would do this. That one of us would kill Jan, or my Yui. Why would they do this?”

“I don’t know—I’m trying to find out. But I have a pretty good idea of who it was.”

“Really? Who?”

“Terrie.”

Elliot sputtered. For a moment I thought he was trying not to laugh. Then he got himself back under control, and said, “I don’t think that’s plausible.”

“If she has an alibi, she hasn’t shared it. She found the first body, and she didn’t join the search for Jan. It doesn’t look good.”

“There were reasons for all those things, Toby,” he said.

“I doubt they’re good enough. Everyone else has an alibi.”

“Actually, you might find these reasons quite . . . legitimate.”

I folded my arms across my chest. “Try me.”

He looked at his watch. “It’s four-thirty. You’ll have an answer at sunset.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Which is when?”

“Seven o’clock. Terrie won’t be here until then.”

“If her excuse isn’t good enough, I’m taking her into custody for breaking Oberon’s law. When the sun goes down, the game’s up. Got that?”

“Yes,” he said, sadly, “I rather suspect I do.”