A Local Habitation

Alex lifted his head. He wasn’t crying, but it was only a matter of time. “Seven years.”


“Where was the company before it was here?”

“Uptown, near the Dreamer’s Glass border. We found land we could connect to the Summerlands about eight years ago, and we wanted to get farther away from Duchess Riordan, so we started construction.”

“But you could only open a Shallowing?”

“The ley lines weren’t deep enough to allow for anything else.”

“Maybe you woke something up, and it just took a while to realize dinner was right above it. If you did, a lot more people will die before we find out what it is and how to stop it.” I wasn’t pulling punches. There’s a time for mercy, but it’s never on the killing grounds.

“If it was one of us,” he said, slowly, “the worst thing you’re facing is . . . one of us.”

“That, or a shapeshifter impersonating one of the employees.” I took a sip of my coffee. “I’m not happy with either choice, but they’re the options we have.” Quentin had fallen silent again, eating my sandwich as he watched Alex.

“I see,” Alex said.

“Now. What do we need to know?”

Alex was quiet for a long moment. Then, taking a deep breath, he said, “ALH was Jan’s idea—she provided the working capital and hired the original crew. We’re part of the County, but that’s a formality; we get paid for working here, we all have steady jobs, and the last time we held Court was at the company barbecue back in May.”

“Was she already a Countess when she founded ALH?”

“Yes. She was titled but landless until we broke away from Dreamer’s Glass.”

“So how long have you worked here?”

“About twelve years. Terrie and I came from Cincinnati when Jan held the first inter-Kingdom job fair, and I’ve—we’ve—been here ever since.”

I frowned. From the way he said that, I wasn’t sure Terrie had been there the entire time. Resolving to get my hands on her personnel files, I asked, “Has Jan been a good leader?”

“One of the best.” Alex leaned forward, suddenly earnest. “She doesn’t think like most people. She’s still good at what she does. You just have to give her a chance.”

I don’t usually give chances when people are dying. On the other hand . . . I once made a similar speech before the Queen’s Court, when a Royal Commission was reviewing the actions of a local Duke. I said they had to give him the benefit of the doubt: that they couldn’t judge him when they didn’t know him. Sylvester didn’t do things the way people expected, but he did well. If Alex gave Jan the same testimony, I had to give her a shot. And maybe he was right. Maybe Jan and Sylvester shared more than just the color of their eyes.

I just hoped she wasn’t going to disappoint us all. “So Jan called you here,” I said. “Is there anything else I should know?”

“I don’t know what you consider a ‘should know.’ Jan does her job. Normally, she has Elliot to take care of the details, but he’s been shaky lately. Death isn’t his strong point.”

“It’s not a strong point for a lot of people.”

“You handle yourselves okay.”

Quentin gave him a disbelieving look. I shook my head, and said, “I’ve had a lot of practice,” hoping that my bitterness wouldn’t show. I was sure it would. “Is there anyone else you think I should know about?”

“Huh.” He tilted his head to one side. “You’ve met Gordan, Elliot, and Jan—Peter’s locked in his office working on a deadline, and Terrie’s on the night shift.”

“And then there’s April.”

Alex almost smiled, agreeing, “And then there’s April. I take it you met?”

“Blonde kid, glasses, talks like the Oracle at Delphi when she was in junior high. Yeah, we met.”