Seanan McGuire - A Local Habitation

“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?”

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.”

“She’s creepy,” Quentin added.

“Dryads generally are,” I said, offhandedly, and paused. “That’s how she disappeared.” Dryads are one of the only races that can teleport entirely on their own. The normal ones need to be close to their trees, but if April had been integrated with the company network, she probably just needed to be close to a power outlet.

“Exactly,” Alex confirmed.

Quentin looked at me, wide-eyed. “She’s a Dryad?” “It’s a long story. Alex—”

The rest of my question was lost when April appeared next to the table, sending an electric shock through the air. I jumped, and Quentin yelped.

April looked at him. “Are you all right?” The concern sounded rehearsed.

“I’m fine,” Quentin muttered.

“You . . . surprised us,” I added.

“Mother is looking for you,” she said, feigned concern dissolving. “She wants to talk to you and has asked me to find you.” She made it sound like being out of Jan’s sight was a crime.

“So I guess we should go to her, hmm?” said Alex, grinning. She looked back at him, unimpressed: it was the first genuine expression I’d seen on her face. “Is she in her office?”

April considered for a moment before she nodded, saying, “Currently.”

“Let her know we’ll be right there, okay?”

“You will come directly?” Her tone implied we’d get distracted and wander off, leaving her to take the blame.

“Yep.”

“Excellent.” She vanished. The air rushed into the place she’d been with a gentle popping sound, leaving the smell of ozone behind.

“Sounds like that’s our cue. Quentin, come on.” I stood, finishing my coffee. Grumbling, Quentin did the same, my half-eaten sandwich in one hand. I looked to Alex. “Come on, native guide. Lead the way.”

“My pleasure,” said Alex, and grinned as he led us out of the cafeteria.

The knowe remained convoluted, verging on labyrinthine, but Alex didn’t miss a beat, turning corners and navigating halls I would’ve sworn weren’t there earlier. It wasn’t that surprising; he’d been working there long enough to have adjusted to the fact that the ground floor was on the roof and could only be reached by going down three flights of stairs. It didn’t take me that long to learn how to park in San Francisco, and that’s arguably worse.

Jan’s door was propped open with a brick. She was seated on the desk inside, laptop balanced on her knees. Drifts of paper littered the floor, knocked aside by her fidgeting.

I rapped on the doorframe. “Hello?”

Her head snapped up. “What—oh. It’s you.” She relaxed, smiling. “Hi, Toby, Quentin. Hey, Alex.”

“Hey,” Alex replied. He didn’t enter the office.

“April said you wanted us?” I stepped inside, Quentin stuffing the last of my sandwich into his mouth, swallowing, and assuming his usual “I am in the presence of nobility” stance. He was definitely developing a working definition of teenage expedience: I’ve never seen anyone swallow that much ham and cheese without chewing before.

“Yeah.” She slid off the desk, putting her laptop aside. “Alex, could you excuse us?”