A Local Habitation

“Gordan does not trust you,” April said.

“I knew that, actually.”

“Mother trusts you.” She shook her head. “I still do not know whether I trust you.”

“I’m glad you can be honest about that,” I said. She was starting to unnerve me. There were too many little inconsistencies in the way she behaved and the way she was made, and it was getting harder to resist the urge to wave my hand through the space her body appeared to occupy just to find out whether or not she was there.

“Honesty is the only sensible option.”

Maybe for computer-powered Dryads, but the rest of Faerie seemed to be having a bit more of a problem with it. Slowly, I asked, “Why are you here?”

“Mother requested that I notify you if any company personnel exited the presence of their assigned partners.”

“And?”

“Gordan and Terrie have departed from one another’s company.”

Swell. “Message received. Where are they?”

“Gordan is located in her cubicle. Terrie is located in the cafeteria.”

“All right. Why don’t you go take care of whatever else you need to do, and I’ll see if I can explain to them why this isn’t okay, all right?”

April gave me a long, measuring look, expression alien as ever. It was like watching an anthropologist trying to figure out a foreign culture—and who knows? Maybe that’s what she was doing. “Understood,” she said finally, and vanished in a flicker of static and ozone.

“Right,” I said, eyeing the space where she’d been before turning to pull the keys out of my pocket and toss them to Quentin. He caught them without pausing to think; good reflexes.

He gave me a bewildered look. “What are you giving me these for?”

“I need to go knock some heads together. Repeatedly. I want you to lock yourself in.”

“Uh.” Quentin’s eyebrows rose, expression turning dubious. “Have you never seen a horror movie in your entire life? Splitting the party is never a good idea.”

“I got that. I also got the part where if I’m creeping around the knowe worrying about you, I’m even more likely to do something stupid. Stay put. Lock the door, and don’t let anyone in, even if they sound like me, unless they know the password.”

“April isn’t going to use the door.”

“I don’t really think April is particularly dangerous, unless you’re threatening her mom. Maybe you should see if you can get her to come back. Asking her some questions might be good for you.”

“Toby—”

“Just do it.”

He looked like he was going to keep arguing. Then he sighed, shoulders sagging, and asked, “What’s the password?”

I managed a fleeting smile as I rose and walked toward the door. “How about ‘do your homework’?”

“Catty,” he said, forcing a smile of his own.

“Exactly,” I said, and stepped out of the room. I waited in front of the door while Quentin closed and locked it, throwing the bolt with a decisive “click.” That done, I started down the hall.





SIXTEEN