A Local Habitation
Page 56
“I see it,” I said, glancing toward Elliot. The picture showed him with Yui, dressed in summer clothes, smiling at the camera. He had one arm around her waist. Both of them were shining with that perfect, fragile happiness strong men have died trying to achieve; a happiness that was gone now. I think it must be worse to find it and lose it again than never to find it at all. Elliot walked over to stand in front of the picture, eyes filling with quiet tears. If it were up to me, I’d have let him do his mourning in peace. Unfortunately, the Luidaeg’s instructions were precise, and we were on a time limit. “Elliot . . .”
“Check the desk,” he said, not taking his eyes away from the photograph.
I do know how to take a hint. I walked over to the desk and opened the left- hand drawers. Quentin followed, doing the same on the right. Peering inside, I let out a long, low whistle. “Wow.”
Yui wasn’t exaggerating when she said she could stock an occult supply store with the contents of her office. The drawers were packed with jars, bottles, and packets of herbs, wedged alongside bundles of feathers, dried flowers, and stranger things—all the necessities of life. I started to rummage. “Quentin, find the juniper berries.”
“What will they look like?”
“Dark purple pebbles. Sort of leathery.”
“Got it.”
The mandrake was in the second drawer I checked. I slid it into my pocket, shuddering as I felt the power leaking through its white silk covering. It had been gathered properly, wrested from the ground beneath a full moon; that was the only explanation for the way it was radiating strength. The preparation meant that it would work better, and more reliably . . . but I still didn’t like it. Mandrakes are used for the creation of doubles and Doppelgangers. They’re tools for people darker and creepier than I’ve ever wanted to be, but the Luidaeg had made it clear that there were no substitutions allowed.
I was just glad Yui’s mandrake was an infant, barely six inches long; I could never have handled a three foot long adult. It would have been too much for me and might have seized control of the casting. Letting a mandrake root take control of a blood magic ritual is a quick and easy way to die. Quick and easy; not painless.
“I’ve got the juniper berries,” Quentin said, holding up a glass jar.
“And I’ve got the mandrake. Elliot?”
“What?” he asked, finally looking away from the picture.
“You said you had feathers?” I continued to look through the drawers as I spoke, taking note of their contents. Many Kitsune are herbal alchemists, using plants and minerals to strengthen their magic. Some of the things Yui had were powerful, like the mandrake, but none of it was suspicious; it was just a Kitsune’s tool kit, designed to let her work her magic with as little effort as possible.
“Yes—I’ll send them with April after I’ve checked with Jan and arranged for the flowers. What are you doing?”
“Checking the office,” I said, and closed the desk drawers, moving to the drafting table. Elliot stared at me, dismayed. I sighed. “We’ve searched the offices of all the other victims, Elliot. I’m sorry about Yui, I really am, but we still need to do our jobs.”
“I . . . understand,” he said slowly, and leaned against the wall, tugging his beard. “Please, continue.”
“We’ll be as quick as we can,” I promised, and pointed to the prints on the walls. Quentin nodded, moving to start taking them down and checking the backs for hidden papers. I concentrated first on the drafting table, then on the computer and the cushions on the floor around it, turning things over and looking beneath them, hoping for another find like Barbara’s office, and half-dreading it at the same time—I did not want to be the one to tell Elliot that his fiancée had sold them out.
Fortunately for my sanity, I didn’t have to. We searched for twenty minutes and found nothing but a stack of half-completed projects, some technical manuals, and a book of handwritten sonnets that we surrendered to Elliot without thinking twice. Eventually, we admitted defeat, and I moved toward the door.
“There’s nothing here. Quentin, come on.”
“Can you find your way back without me?” Elliot asked. I could hear the promise of tears in his voice.
I didn’t want to leave him alone. I didn’t want anyone to be alone in this death trap of a company. And yet, somehow, I couldn’t deny him the right to grieve. “Sure,” I said.
Elliot nodded once. “I’ll meet you there.” He turned to exit the office, shoulders bowed. We watched him go, silent. What was there for us to say? I couldn’t promise justice. If there’d been justice in the world, I could have given him Yui back. As it was, all I could do was try to avenge her.
He was barely past the doorway when April appeared, her arrival sending the smell of ozone and electrical fire washing over the office. Elliot stopped, turning back to face her, but her attention was focused on me.
“Are you available to receive a message?”
I blinked. “What?”
“Are you available to receive a message?” she repeated, tone exactly the same.
“That means you’re being paged,” said Elliot. “Yes, April, we’re available.”
“There is a visitor at the front gate.”
I glanced to Quentin. “Sounds like your ride’s here. April, who is it?”
“Identity presented as Connor O’Dell. Purpose presented as ‘beat Toby’s ass until she agrees to get the hell out of this death trap.’ ” April’s neutral expression didn’t flicker. “He is currently held at the front gate. Shall I permit him to enter?”
“Please. Quentin, come on.” I grinned, unabashedly relieved. “We’re getting you out of here.”
EIGHTEEN
“WHAT MADE YOU THINK you should come without a car?” I stared at Connor, aghast.
He shrugged, spreading his hands in apology. “I thought you’d let us take yours.”
“Ignoring the part where you just assumed you could commandeer my only means of transport, is there a reason you didn’t ask the cab to wait until you’d checked with me?”
Connor shrugged again, looking helpless. “I didn’t think you’d let me in if I had a mortal cabbie with me.”
“He’s right,” Jan said, looking between us. “We wouldn’t have.”
“Check the desk,” he said, not taking his eyes away from the photograph.
I do know how to take a hint. I walked over to the desk and opened the left- hand drawers. Quentin followed, doing the same on the right. Peering inside, I let out a long, low whistle. “Wow.”
Yui wasn’t exaggerating when she said she could stock an occult supply store with the contents of her office. The drawers were packed with jars, bottles, and packets of herbs, wedged alongside bundles of feathers, dried flowers, and stranger things—all the necessities of life. I started to rummage. “Quentin, find the juniper berries.”
“What will they look like?”
“Dark purple pebbles. Sort of leathery.”
“Got it.”
The mandrake was in the second drawer I checked. I slid it into my pocket, shuddering as I felt the power leaking through its white silk covering. It had been gathered properly, wrested from the ground beneath a full moon; that was the only explanation for the way it was radiating strength. The preparation meant that it would work better, and more reliably . . . but I still didn’t like it. Mandrakes are used for the creation of doubles and Doppelgangers. They’re tools for people darker and creepier than I’ve ever wanted to be, but the Luidaeg had made it clear that there were no substitutions allowed.
I was just glad Yui’s mandrake was an infant, barely six inches long; I could never have handled a three foot long adult. It would have been too much for me and might have seized control of the casting. Letting a mandrake root take control of a blood magic ritual is a quick and easy way to die. Quick and easy; not painless.
“I’ve got the juniper berries,” Quentin said, holding up a glass jar.
“And I’ve got the mandrake. Elliot?”
“What?” he asked, finally looking away from the picture.
“You said you had feathers?” I continued to look through the drawers as I spoke, taking note of their contents. Many Kitsune are herbal alchemists, using plants and minerals to strengthen their magic. Some of the things Yui had were powerful, like the mandrake, but none of it was suspicious; it was just a Kitsune’s tool kit, designed to let her work her magic with as little effort as possible.
“Yes—I’ll send them with April after I’ve checked with Jan and arranged for the flowers. What are you doing?”
“Checking the office,” I said, and closed the desk drawers, moving to the drafting table. Elliot stared at me, dismayed. I sighed. “We’ve searched the offices of all the other victims, Elliot. I’m sorry about Yui, I really am, but we still need to do our jobs.”
“I . . . understand,” he said slowly, and leaned against the wall, tugging his beard. “Please, continue.”
“We’ll be as quick as we can,” I promised, and pointed to the prints on the walls. Quentin nodded, moving to start taking them down and checking the backs for hidden papers. I concentrated first on the drafting table, then on the computer and the cushions on the floor around it, turning things over and looking beneath them, hoping for another find like Barbara’s office, and half-dreading it at the same time—I did not want to be the one to tell Elliot that his fiancée had sold them out.
Fortunately for my sanity, I didn’t have to. We searched for twenty minutes and found nothing but a stack of half-completed projects, some technical manuals, and a book of handwritten sonnets that we surrendered to Elliot without thinking twice. Eventually, we admitted defeat, and I moved toward the door.
“There’s nothing here. Quentin, come on.”
“Can you find your way back without me?” Elliot asked. I could hear the promise of tears in his voice.
I didn’t want to leave him alone. I didn’t want anyone to be alone in this death trap of a company. And yet, somehow, I couldn’t deny him the right to grieve. “Sure,” I said.
Elliot nodded once. “I’ll meet you there.” He turned to exit the office, shoulders bowed. We watched him go, silent. What was there for us to say? I couldn’t promise justice. If there’d been justice in the world, I could have given him Yui back. As it was, all I could do was try to avenge her.
He was barely past the doorway when April appeared, her arrival sending the smell of ozone and electrical fire washing over the office. Elliot stopped, turning back to face her, but her attention was focused on me.
“Are you available to receive a message?”
I blinked. “What?”
“Are you available to receive a message?” she repeated, tone exactly the same.
“That means you’re being paged,” said Elliot. “Yes, April, we’re available.”
“There is a visitor at the front gate.”
I glanced to Quentin. “Sounds like your ride’s here. April, who is it?”
“Identity presented as Connor O’Dell. Purpose presented as ‘beat Toby’s ass until she agrees to get the hell out of this death trap.’ ” April’s neutral expression didn’t flicker. “He is currently held at the front gate. Shall I permit him to enter?”
“Please. Quentin, come on.” I grinned, unabashedly relieved. “We’re getting you out of here.”
EIGHTEEN
“WHAT MADE YOU THINK you should come without a car?” I stared at Connor, aghast.
He shrugged, spreading his hands in apology. “I thought you’d let us take yours.”
“Ignoring the part where you just assumed you could commandeer my only means of transport, is there a reason you didn’t ask the cab to wait until you’d checked with me?”
Connor shrugged again, looking helpless. “I didn’t think you’d let me in if I had a mortal cabbie with me.”
“He’s right,” Jan said, looking between us. “We wouldn’t have.”
