A local habitation

“Let me tell Quentin.” I reclaimed my folder and turned, moving to stick my head back into the cafeteria. Quentin was at the table we’d been sharing, shredding a napkin into long, narrow strips. “Hey.”

“What?” he said, not looking up.

“I’m going to go meet Sylvester’s niece. You want to come?”

“Is hegoing?”

“You mean Alex?” He nodded, continuing to shred his napkin. “Yes.”

“Then I’m staying here.”

I paused. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” Quentin raised his head, meeting my eyes for a moment before looking down again. “I just don’t like him, that’s all.”

“Already?”

A shrug.

“You sure you want to stay here all by yourself?”

“I’m a big boy,” he said. “I think I’ll be okay in the big, well-lit cafeteria.”

“Suit yourself,” I said, stepping back and letting the door swing shut. If he wanted to be that way, I wasn’t going to stop him.

Alex was waiting where I’d left him. “Well?”

“He’s not coming.”

“His loss. Come on.” Flicking his hair out of his eyes, Alex turned to head down the hall. His legs were long enough to cover ground at a dismaying rate, and I hurried to catch up. At least we seemed to be staying in the same building.

“People come and go so quickly here,” I muttered. I’m not used to walking with people who treat it as some sort of unspoken race.

“We drew straws to see who’d get to deal with you,” he said, as he walked. “Gordan lost, but I owed her a favor, so she swapped with me. Something about wanting to actually get some work done today. Sucker. I would’ve paid herto let me check on you, instead of the other way around.”

“Is that so?” I glanced at his ears as I caught up to him, trying to be casual. You can usually get a hint about fae heritage from the shape of their ears, and I like to know what I’m dealing with. Maybe if my mother weren’t Daoine Sidhe—the blood-workers of a blood-obsessed culture—I wouldn’t be as entranced by bloodlines. But she is, and in a lot of ways, I am my mother’s daughter.

He was half-blooded, I could tell that much; the human in him was too strong to miss, and most fae don’t freckle. Still, the curve of his ears was unfamiliar. They were too sharp for Daoine Sidhe, too delicate for Tylwyth Teg, and not long enough for Tuatha de Da

That’s why I was surprised when Alex turned, shaking his finger. “Uh-uh. If you figure it out on your own, fine, but no tricks.”

I shut my mouth, blinking. It’s not considered rude to taste the balance of the blood, but that’s because so few of us can do it that it’s never had the chance to become socially unacceptable. “You could always just tell me, you know.”

“Now where would be the fun in that?” Alex stopped walking. His hair had fallen back over one eye, making him look slightly off-balance. “I bet we could find more entertaining ways for you to try working it out.”

“Could we, now? Got any suggestions?”

He smirked. “How do you feel about breakfast?” “Most men start with di

“I can dare to be different.”

“So far, I’m not seeing much difference.”

“Is that a challenge?”

“Maybe.”

Still smirking, Alex leaned down and kissed me.

His lips tasted like coffee and clover. I blinked, startled, before leaning in and kissing him back. He put a hand on my shoulder, pulling me into a slightly better angle, and deepened the kiss, drawing it out until my head started to spin. Then he let me go, stepping backward, and asked, “Different?”

“Different,” I agreed. I could feel a blush ru

“See you at breakfast.” He winked, turning to open the door behind him. “Ladies first.”

Laughing as I tried to sort through the spin of my emotions, I brushed past him into the most architecturally impossible hallway I’d ever seen. Real angles don’t bend that way. I looked back to Alex, who was barely managing to contain his look of anticipatory amusement.

So we were going to play it that way, were we? Putting on my best i

Alex’s amusement faded into surprise. “You knew?”

“Newsflash: you don’t usually find lace-o’-dreams flowers growing on mortal lawns. Plus? The sky was the wrong kind of blue.” I shrugged. “I’m guessing we crossed worlds when we came through the front door.”

He stopped, folding his arms. “Okay, how did you figure thatout?”

“Air-conditioning’s turned too high. The first thing you notice is the cold, and that keeps you from noticing the shift. Estate?”

“Shallowing.”

“Thought so. I’m assuming the mortal buildings overlay the knowe?”

“Pretty much.”

There are two types of knowe. Some, like Shadowed Hills, are literally Summerlands estates co

“So what happens when you have human visitors?” In a way, it was a slightly more adult version of the question I’d asked Quentin earlier. Are you being careful?

“Well, we keep them to a minimum, but when we have to let them in, we buzz them through the gate under a different code and someone meets them at the parking lot. They’re led to the human-side cafeteria or server rooms. That’s why the buildings aren’t co

There was a certain twisted logic to that idea. It was certainly no worse than the game of “ring around the poison oak” you had to play to get into the knowe at Shadowed Hills. “And there’ve never been any slipups?”

“One or two.” He opened another door. The hall beyond was carpeted in a bilious green, and the walls were studded with corkboards covered in comic strips and memos. The windows indicated that we’d somehow managed to reach the second floor without taking the stairs—cute. “Nothing major, and they’ve all been taken care of with no lasting harm done.”

“Meaning . . . ?”

“We had a Kitsune on staff until fairly recently.” Alex’s smile faltered, replaced by an expression I didn’t have a name for. “She made sure they didn’t remember anything.”

Not all Kitsune can manipulate memories, but the ones that can tend to be damn good. I nodded, almost grudgingly. “Good approach.”

“We thought so.” The expression I couldn’t name vanished as quickly as it came. “You don’t have a phone, do you?”

“What?”

“A cellular telephone?” He mimed talking into a receiver as he continued, “If you do, it’s going to be useless inside the knowe. If you want, I can have it modified.”

“Modified?”

“Gordan replaces the battery with one of her special ones, works a little voodoo, and gets the circuits realigned. She’s our hardware whiz.” He shrugged. “I just use the toys she makes.”

“Interesting.”

“Believe me, so are you, but this is where the bus stops.” He gestured toward a door. “That’s Jan’s office. Try to be nice? She’s usually easygoing, but it’s been a hard few weeks, and she’s a little cranky. I’d hate to see that pretty head of yours get bitten off.”