A Local Habitation

“I’ll try,” she muttered, and sat down in front of me, ignoring the dirty water covering the floor. “Give me your hand.” I did as she asked; it was easier than fighting her.

Gordan grabbed my wrist, twisting my palm toward the ceiling. The cut looked even worse in direct light. Jan gasped, while Quentin made a small gagging noise. Gordan just frowned, asking, “What did you do, argue with a lawnmower?”

I swallowed, vowing not to faint until she was done hurting me. “Silver knife. Summoning ritual. I didn’t mean to cut so deep.”

“You’re an idiot,” she said, sounding almost impressed. “You’ll be lucky if you missed the major muscles. What were you summoning again? Godzilla?”

Hands tightening on my shoulders, Connor said, “She was summoning the night-haunts.”

“Oh, right, she’s a fucking moron,” said Gordan, sounding entirely too cheerful about it.

“Gordan . . .” said Jan warningly. Gordan subsided, grumbling under her breath as she resumed her inspection of my hand. Jan waited for me to relax before asking, “Did it work?” Elliot turned toward me and Gordan glanced up, both waiting for my answer.

“Yes,” I said. “They came. Sorry about the floor.”

“No big deal,” Jan said, waving it away. “Did they . . . did they tell you anything?”

“Some, yes. We were wrong when we thought they weren’t coming. It’s just that the bodies aren’t any good to them, so they’ve been leaving them behind.”

“Why aren’t they any good?”

“For the same reason Quentin and I can’t get anything out of the blood. Whatever’s been killing your friends has been somehow stealing the . . . vitality that should be left in their bodies.”

“It’s stealing their souls?” Elliot asked, sharply.

I shook my head, wincing as it throbbed. “It’s not stealing their souls; it’s stealing their memories. Your life is stored in your blood, but the blood here is empty. Their memories are gone, and the memories are what the night-haunts need.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know.” I told the lie without flinching. I’d promised the night-haunts I’d keep their secrets, and I meant it.

“It’s stealing their memory?” Jan said, putting an odd stress on the last word. Something flitted across her face, there and gone so fast I wasn’t sure I’d seen it at all.

“Yes.”

“So the night-haunts are leaving the bodies here . . .”

“Because they just don’t care,” said Gordan, and grabbed my fingers, yanking them down. The pain was incredible. I screamed.

What happened next was a little blurred. Jan shouted. I tried to jerk to my feet, and Connor pushed me back down, keeping me where I was. Quentin started to move. Suddenly, my hand was free and Gordan was on the floor with her hand pressed against her cheek. Quentin was standing between us, fists raised.

“Don’t touch her!”

Gordan pushed herself up, glaring. Quentin towered over her; she didn’t seem to notice as she spat, “I ought to kick your overprivileged ass!”

“You want to try?” Quentin asked.

“Stop it!” Jan said. They ignored her. Whatever internal rivalry they’d created, they seemed intent on finishing it.

“I think maybe I will,” Gordan said, stepping forward.

I took a deep breath, steadying myself, and stood. This time, Connor let me. The wet floor didn’t make it easy, but I managed to keep my balance. “Are you two going to cut this out, or do I need to go somewhere else?” I asked.

Quentin turned, looking mortified. “Toby, sit down, you shouldn’t be . . .”

“Gordan, back off,” Elliot snapped.

She glared. “He hit me.”

“You deserved it,” Jan replied. “Now, if we’re done being jerks? Toby, sit. Quentin, cool it. And, Gordan—was there a reason you just tried to take Toby’s hand apart?”

“Yes,” she said sullenly, rubbing her cheek. “I needed to see if she had feeling in her fingers.”