A Local Habitation

“What I’m saying is that if you need help, go ahead and ask me.” Alex grinned. I grinned back, at least until Quentin “accidentally” kicked me in the ankle. I shot him a warning glare. He smiled angelically.

“. . . and besides,” Alex said, “if I have actual work to do, I can always leave it for Terrie.”

Quentin brightened. “When does Terrie get here?”

“Good question,” I said, more slowly. “When does she get in?”

“What?” Alex blinked.

“Your sister?” I said. He was a lot less attractive when he looked that confused. “When does she come on shift?”

“Oh. Uh . . .” He looked at his watch, then at the window. The gesture looked habitual, like he wasn’t sure he could trust the time. “She usually shows up a little past eight.”

Quentin asked, “Does she come find you, or what?”

“Oh, no. I’m gone by the time she gets here.”

“It must be hard, never seeing your sister,” I said.

“What?” He looked nervous—he didn’t like us asking about Terrie. I hoped it didn’t mean anything. I was really starting to like him. “Oh, yeah. I mean, no. I mean . . . we’re not close.”

“Okay.” I changed the subject, watching his expression. “What can you tell us about the people here?”

Quentin looked like he was going to protest the change of topic, and I took great pleasure in “accidentally” kicking him in the ankle. “Ow!”

“What was that, Quentin?” I asked sweetly.

“Nothing,” he said, glaring. He wasn’t going to question me in front of Alex, and we both knew it. Knowing the weaknesses of your friends matters as much as knowing the weaknesses of your enemies.

“Keep eating.” I shoved my tray over to him and turned to Alex. “You were saying?”

Alex was staring at me, dismayed. “You think it was one of us. Why?”

“Yui.”

“What?” Alex said. Quentin looked up from my lunch, frowning.

I didn’t blame them for not getting it; I would have missed it, too, fifteen years ago, but time has given me a new distance from Faerie. Sometimes that’s a good thing. “Yui was a four-tailed Kitsune. That means she was strong, fast, and had pretty powerful magic, right?”

Alex nodded. I continued, “Whatever killed her took her by surprise—we know she didn’t struggle. We also know she was strong enough to defend herself: she could have fought back, and the amount of power she had would have stopped most people. It would definitely have stopped someone like me. That means one of two things. Either her killer was something so nasty that it could take down a four-tailed Kitsune without a fight, or . . .”

“Or it was someone she knew,” Alex said, horrified. “I didn’t even think of that.”

“Most people wouldn’t.” Most people don’t spend as much time dealing with death as I do. Lucky them.

“If it was a monster, would the bodies have been there?” Quentin asked.

“That depends on what it eats. The best answer is ‘probably not’—we could be dealing with something that killed in self-defense, but killing for food is more likely, and I’ve never heard of something that can kill a Kitsune but wouldn’t eat the body. Have there been any unexplained disappearances in the County that you haven’t reported to the Crown?”

“What? No. We report all deaths and disappearances to the Queen’s Court.”

“Up until this most recent batch, you mean,” I said.

“Yes. No. I . . . Jan tried to report those!”

“To her uncle, not the Queen, but whatever. I’m not going to fight with you. I’m just going to trust that if you think of any deaths I’m missing, you’ll tell me. Have you found any unusual tracks or spoor? Animal markings? We might have a shapeshifter on our hands.”

“Not that I’ve heard of.” He leaned forward, putting his hands over his face. “I can’t believe one of us is doing this. I just can’t.”

“I’m sorry,” I said, and I meant it; it hurts when your family betrays you.

“You could be wrong,” Alex said, through his fingers.

“We could be,” I agreed. “How long has the company been here?”