A local habitation

“Do you understand why no one must know the why and how of what we are?” She looked at me sharply, waiting.

I nodded. “If all of Faerie knew, some people would burn the bodies to keep you from taking them.”

“That is so. We would fade to nothing but the sound of leaves on the wind.” She fa

“I will,” I said. I meant it. Faerie has reasons to be the way it is, even if I don’t always understand them. The night-haunts have as much right to be what Faerie made them as the rest of us do; if ignorance preserved them, I’d keep their secrets.

“You’re wiser than most who deal with us. Is there anything else you would know?”

“No. That’s everything I needed. We can end this now.”

The night-haunt with Devin’s face smiled. “What makes you think we’re done?”

I went cold. “What more is there to do?”

“The matter of payment remains.” He kept smiling, and I realized he didn’t really care whether they took the mandrake or me. He wanted blood—any blood. The night-haunts hadn’t survived by being picky.

I pulled the knife out of the mandrake’s chest and picked it up. It clung to my fingers. I felt a brief, sharp pang of guilt. It was part of me, blood of my blood, and I was throwing it to its doom. Still, sentimental as I can sometimes be, I’m not stupid; if the choice was it or me . . . “I’m sorry,” I murmured, and held it out toward the night-haunts. “Blood is all I have. I’m offering it to you, if you’ll leave me my life and leave this place in peace.”

“Why should we take it? You reject the blood and all it gives you.” The almost- Ross looked at me, eyes cold. “We could take you.”

“The Luidaeg wouldn’t like it,” I said, trying to sound confident. For all I knew, she’d laugh—especially if they meant it when they claimed to be her sister’s children.

“She’d think you performed the ritual wrong,” Devin’s haunt said. “She’d blame you, not us.”

Uh-oh. “Are you willing to risk it?” My heart was beating too fast, and I was sure they could hear it. If they decided to take me, there was nothing I could do.

“Take the offering,” said Dare’s haunt. “Let her dismiss us.”

“But—” the Ross-haunt protested.

Dare’s haunt moved too quickly for my eye to follow, seizing the larger night-haunt by the throat. It fell silent, watching her. “I found the last kill. I. Remember?” she snarled. The haunt she was holding nodded, sullenly silent. “I brought us blood and bone and memory, and until another kill is found, I rule. Is this not true?” She shook her victim again, glaring at the other haunts. “Is this not true?” They whispered agreement, drawing away from her.

She released her captive. It collapsed to the ground before slinking into the shadows of the flock. “I rule here,” she repeated. The whispering night- haunts agreed. She walked back to the circle’s edge, holding out her hands. “Give it to me.”

Carefully, I reached past the salt, putting the mandrake down even as it scrabbled to hold onto my fingers. It was almost as large as she was. She placed one hand on its shoulder, and it froze, watching her with terrified eyes. “The dues are paid; you have given proper courtesy. We’ll let you live.”

“Why?” hissed the not- Devin. She turned, and he fell back, cringing.

“Because I said so,” she said. “My most recent memories say she is a hero. Not just any hero; myhero.” She looked back at me. “You will fade from my mind. If we meet again, I may not be so kind—but today, you are my hero. I’ve had few enough of those, in all my lives. Good luck to you. I’ll find your body when you fall, and wear your face with pride.” Her smile was small and amused. “It’s the greatest gift I can offer.”

Then the night-haunts rose as one body, dragging the mandrake into the air with them. It shrieked, voicing its terror. I clapped my hands over my ears, sagging forward in the circle as a shallower, more natural darkness filled the cafeteria. The sound of the fire slowly returned. The night-haunts were gone.

The emergency sprinklers finally registered the smoldering remains of my circle and switched on, dousing the room. I tilted my head back, cradling my wounded hand against my chest as the water poured across my face.

I didn’t save Dare, but she’d managed to save me twice. I wasn’t a very good hero, but I was the only one she had, and there’s power in that. There’s power in information, too, and I had all the information I could have wanted. I’d never wanted to know what the night-haunts really were, and I knew I’d never be able to forget. That could wait. For the moment, I sat in the falling water, surrounded by the cloying smell of burnt flowers, and cried.

TWENTY-ONE

“TOBY?” THE DOOR OPENED, sending a shaft of light into my damp, comfortable darkness. I wasn’t sure when the sprinklers had stopped; I also wasn’t sure I cared. Co

I tilted my face forward, wincing as my head started throbbing in earnest. Co

“It smells like smoke in here,” Quentin said, tone radiating relief. He probably hadn’t been sure they’d find me alive. That was all right; I hadn’t been sure, either.

“Can we turn the lights on?” Co

“If they’ll work. They shorted out when the flowers caught fire.” I forced myself to stand. It wasn’t easy. My legs were threatening to abdicate from the rest of the body, and I wasn’t coming up with any good reasons why they shouldn’t.

Elliot spoke from behind Quentin. “I’ll turn on the backups.”

Backups. They had backups for the backups in this place. It was amazing anything had been able to go wrong: they should’ve had backups for the people, too. “You do that,” I said.

Elliot leaned past Quentin, flipping a switch, and a set of yellow-tinted lights came on overhead. All three of them turned toward me and gasped, almost in unison. It would have been fu

“Toby?” Co

“That would be me,” I said, wiping the water off my cheek. “In the flesh, as it were.”

“You look . . .”

“I know.” My hair was plastered to my head. My hands were black with ash. “But I’m still here.”

Elliot glanced at the mess covering the floor. “I’m not going to ask.”

“Probably for the best,” I said. Quentin had pushed past the other two and was approaching, almost timidly. I turned to him, mustering a faint smile. “Hey.”

“Hey,” he replied. “Are you okay?”

“I’m alive. That’s all I hoped for.” He still looked profoundly uncomfortable. I sighed. “Look, I’d hug you, but I’d get blood all over you.”

“I don’t care,” he said, and threw his arms around my neck. I slung my right arm around him, letting my unwounded hand rest on his shoulder. Co

It was Elliot who broke the silence, saying uncomfortably, “This is . . . rather untidy. May I clean you?”

I pulled away from Quentin and Co

“. . . no,” Elliot said, looking displeased. “We’ll have to get Gordan to look at that.” He crossed to the kitchen area, opening a cabinet and pulling out a clean towel, which he tossed toward us.

Co