A Local Habitation

“Yes, it was.” Elliot stopped walking, staring at me. “Oh, Oberon’s teeth . . .”


I glanced to Tybalt, trying to read his expression. It had gone completely neutral, but his eyes were locked on Elliot. Still, I pressed on. “You tried with cats first, didn’t you? They remember everything. They were perfect.”

“I knew there was a plan to try with feline test subjects, but I was never involved.”

“Yeah, well, if you ask the cats, the ones who went to be ‘tested’ never came back.”

Elliot licked his lips nervously. “Barbara was very upset.”

So was Tybalt. His shoulders were locked, and the smell of pennyroyal and musk was rising in the air around him. Reaching over, I took hold of his wrist, keeping my eyes on Elliot. “And you never asked?”

“I . . . it didn’t seem . . .”

“Did you know that half the cats in a Cait Sidhe’s entourage are changelings?”

“No. I never . . . no.” Elliot seemed to realize he was on thin ice, even if he wasn’t sure how he’d ended up there. “Barbara never said . . .”

“You broke Oberon’s law, whether you knew it or not,” I said. Glancing up to Tybalt, I asked, “Is the Court of Cats going to demand recompense?”

“That remains to be seen,” he said, in a voice that was surprisingly level.

I let go of his wrist. “Okay. Elliot, start moving. We need to get inside.”

“We did it for Faerie,” Elliot protested, as he began to walk again.

“Will that make it easier for you to sleep at night?” asked Tybalt.

I couldn’t blame him for his anger. I shared it. “What happened after the problems were brought to light?”

“We were going to rebuild the physical interface,” Elliot said, in a small voice. I could finally see a door on the wall ahead; it took everything I had to stay calm and keep walking.

“Was Gordan still going to be in charge of the project?”

“There was going to be a review.”

“Did she know?” He nodded. “Was that when the deaths began?” He nodded again. “Did the recording device always connect at the wrists and throat?” So help me, if he said yes, I was going to throttle him.

“No.” He opened the door. The familiar hall past the cafeteria was waiting on the other side. Quietly, he added, “The wounds are new.”

“You know it was Gordan, don’t you?” I asked, as we walked slowly down the hall.

“Yes. I do.” He sighed. “I just don’t want to believe it.”

“Did you know all along? Did you suspect?” I wasn’t shouting; I was too angry. My voice was quiet, calm, and level as I asked, “Did you even care?”

“Look at Yui’s body, or Jan’s, and ask me if I cared,” said Elliot, wearily. “We screwed up. We made mistakes. But we were here of our own free will, and we made those mistakes on our own. Everyone I love is dead. Is that enough? Or should I grovel?”

“It is enough,” said Tybalt, as gravely as a judge passing sentence. He was a King of Cats. The people of Tamed Lightning wronged his people. In a way, he really was passing judgment on what Elliot had done.

Elliot met his eyes, and nodded, accepting the sentence. “We’re almost there.”

“Good. I—” My foot hit something damp and I slipped, nearly falling before I caught myself against Tybalt. I looked down, and went cold.

“Are you all right?” asked Elliot.

“No,” said Tybalt. “She isn’t.”