A Local Habitation od-2 Page 27

  “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.”

  TWENTY-FIVE

  THERE WAS NO SIGNAL IN THE HALL. I snapped the phone closed, glaring at it like it had done this just to spite me, and moved toward the futon room door. “I need to go outside and find a signal. Just let me tell Connor where I’m going.”

  My knuckles hadn’t even hit the door when April appeared, expression—for her—distraught. My arm was going straight through her throat. I yelped, jerking backward.

  “Quentin is sleeping. Connor is monitoring his condition. Please do not persist in your attempts to disturb him. His batteries must recharge if he is to remain on the network.”

  I glanced at Elliot, bemused. He looked as bewildered as I felt. “All right, April. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

  “Apology accepted. Leave now.” She vanished, the smell of ozone hanging in the air.

  “That was weird,” I said.

  “She seems to have taken a shine to your assistant. Maybe it’s just that he’s the age she appears to be. Shall I show you the way outside?”

  “Please.”

  The simplification of the knowe had continued while I slept; Tamed Lightning was in mourning, just like the rest of us, and there was no reason to complicate the halls. It had nothing left to hide. The more I see of our world, the more convinced I am that everything in Faerie is alive. April was a sentient computer, and one of my pets is a rosebush with feet. Why shouldn’t the places where we live be just as awake? In Faerie, the land can hold opinions.

  Elliot respected my obvious desire for silence, pulling a few steps ahead of me as we approached what was presumab
ly the door to the outside. He undid the lock and pulled the door open—only to squawk in surprise and vanish, yanked out the door by the hand that had suddenly latched around his throat. Swearing, I broke into a run, rocketing out the door only a few seconds behind him. Then I stopped, clamping a hand over my mouth, and stared.

  Tybalt was holding Elliot a foot off the ground. He’d shown at least a little bit of mercy, letting go of Elliot’s throat in favor of grabbing his collar. While this seemed less likely to rip Elliot’s jugular open, it wasn’t doing him any favors in the “breathing” department; Elliot was thrashing, face turning a worrying shade of plum. Every cat in the place seemed to have gathered around them, turning the lawn into one teeming, furry mass.

  “Tybalt?” I said, lowering my hand.

  He turned toward me, and dropped Elliot. “October?” His eyes flicked from my pristine condition to the scrapes on my cheek and the bandages on my hands before narrowing, attention swinging back to Elliot, who was huddled in a graceless, gasping heap. “Is this one responsible for your hands?”

  “What? No! No, I did it myself.” I was smiling, irrationally relieved by his arrival. Tybalt doesn’t normally move me to smile, but somehow, having additional fire-power didn’t strike me as a bad idea. “I sort of had to.”

  “How do even you wind up in a circumstance where you ‘sort of have to’ slice your hands open?” Tybalt prowled toward me, Elliot clearly dismissed. “Did you also ‘sort of have to’ do whatever it is you’ve done to your face?”

  “No, that happened when I jumped out of my car to keep myself from being inside it when it decided to explode.” I shrugged. “It’ll heal.”

  “If you don’t die.”

  “If I don’t die,” I agreed.

  He gave me another up and down look, finally saying, “Nice coat,” before turning back to Elliot, who shrank back. “You. The cats say you’re one of the people in charge here.”

  Elliot glanced at the cats surrounding him like he was looking for support. A fluffy orange tomcat flattened its ears, hissing. He winced. “I . . . I suppose I am. Can I help you?”