A Local Habitation

“There are flaws in the process and her casing was damaged, but Gordan says the limits of the hardware can be overcome. We can download her to a new server. We can try again.”


“April, please, you have to stop. If you help us catch Gordan, I can make sure you’re safe. It wasn’t your fault. You were used, you didn’t understand.” I meant it, too. She could be protected. It would be hard, but root and branch, I’d find a way. I owed it to Jan.

“I . . .” She hesitated, eyes more pained than any living eyes should be. “I’m sorry. I never meant to hurt anyone . . . but I need my mother. I don’t know how to take care of myself.”

“April—” I reached for her, hoping I could hold her, but it was too late: she was gone.

The stuffed rabbit hung in the air for a moment, seeming suspended. Then gravity took hold, and it fell. April didn’t reappear. I hadn’t really expected her to—she was running away, after all—and that meant I had to run after her. That’s my job. Leaving the rabbit on the floor, I bolted for the door, and I didn’t look back.

I could have disconnected her server, removed her from the playing field, but without Jan to help us turn her back on, I wasn’t sure she’d survive. I wasn’t going to avenge Sylvester’s niece by killing her only child, no matter how misguided that child’s actions had been.

The others were waiting where I’d left them. Thank Oberon for small favors. They all straightened as I reappeared, but it was Tybalt who spoke first, asking, “Toby? What’s wrong?”

“April and Gordan are our killers. Gordan convinced her that it wasn’t murder, it was an ‘upgrade.’ Only the process doesn’t work, and when April refused to help her kill Jan, Gordan did it on her own.” I wheeled on Elliot, stabbing my finger toward him. “What am I missing? What haven’t you told me? Talk fast. There isn’t much time.” I was already starting toward the futon room, taking long, ground-eating strides. “Tybalt, can you take the Shadows?”

“They’re warded against me,” he said, pacing me easily. “I can’t access them.”

“Of course they are,” I snarled.

Elliot was hurrying to catch up, saying, “Gordan and April?”

“Gordan and April,” I confirmed. “April couldn’t do it alone. Even if Peter hadn’t died during a power outage, she didn’t understand what death was. You two had better start talking.”

“Toby—” Alex began.

“No,” said Elliot, cutting him off. I stopped, turning toward him. He met my eyes, not flinching away. “No more stalling. We’ll tell you.”

“But the project—” Alex protested.

“Is over. Yui’s dead, Jan’s dead, and the project is over. We failed. Ashes, ashes, we all fall down.” Eyes still on mine, Elliot said, “Jan brought us here to save the world.”

“Right,” I said doubtfully, starting to walk again. “Keep talking.”

“I’ll need to give you a bit of background. Stop me if it gets too technical.”

“Fine.”

Alex was staring at both of us, looking scandalized. Elliot caught the look, and snapped, “I’m Jan’s seneschal. If April’s a murderess, she can’t take the County, and I’m in charge.” Alex looked away. Elliot continued, “It started when Jan transplanted April. She didn’t know it could be done until she’d done it, but once she had, what she’d found was obvious.”

“What do you mean?”

“The way back to what Faerie should be. Isolated, pure, eternal . . . if she had the right tools, she could change the world and save us all.” Elliot sighed. “She called us because we were the best Faerie had to offer. We came because we believed her.”

“I don’t understand,” I said.

“Faerie is dying,” said Alex. On his lips, it became a statement of irrefutable fact. The sun shines, rain falls, and Faerie is dying. “We die faster than we’re born, and the humans are winning. The sun loves them. In the end, we’ll be stories for them to forget.”

“You’re fools,” said Tybalt, scornful. “Faerie is immortal.”