A local habitation

“The way it . . . right.” I hadn’t really looked at my hand since cutting it. I’d been a little busy. “Guys, let go.”

They stepped back, and I looked down, assessing the damage. I had all my fingers, and I could move them, if I was willing to cope with the pain: that was where the good stuff ended. My palm was split from the wrist to the base of the index finger, and when my fingers flexed, I thought I saw bone. Changelings heal fast and thoroughly when the wounds aren’t made with iron; my hand would recover if I had it taken care of. It still looked pretty bad.

Starting to feel faintly nauseated, I said, “Getting Gordan in here might be a good idea.”

Elliot nodded. “I’ll fetch her. You wait here.” Then he was out the door, hurrying away from the mess and from the questions he wasn’t asking yet. That was fine. I wasn’t ready to start answering them, and I didn’t trust his self-control to last. I really didn’t need him to start cleaning the room while we were still in it.

“Come on, Toby. Sit down.” Co

I collapsed into a sitting position, sticking my head between my knees. Co

“Toby?”

He sounded worried enough that I forced myself to look up. “Yes, Quentin?”

“Did they come?”

I sighed. “Yeah. They came.”

“Wow.” Quentin sat down in the chair next to mine, shaking his head. “I . . . wow. Did you talk to them?”

“As much as I could, yes.”

“Oh.” We were silent for a while, Co

“What?” The question was unexpected enough to get my full attention.

Swallowing, he said, “You’ve seen the night-haunts. Are you going to die?”

“I don’t think it works that way. They don’t cause death. They come after death happens. I’m not going to die because I saw them.” I might die for other reasons, but I was fairly sure the night- haunts wouldn’t have anything to do with it.

“Oh,” Quentin said, relaxing. “Good.”

We sat quietly after that. I was glad to have the company; even knowing the night-haunts weren’t coming back, I didn’t want to be alone. Both of them were clearly bursting with questions, but they kept their peace, letting me rest. I needed the chance to breathe.

Elliot came back after fifteen minutes. “Gordan and Jan are on their way.”

“Peachy,” I said, sitting up as Co

“Gordan doesn’t want me to give you anything until she’s seen your hand.”

I decided to hate her. “Why not? It’s my headthat’s killing me.”

“Because we don’t know how much damage you’ve done to yourself.” He gestured toward the remains of my protective circle. “It looks like you held a war in here.”

“I almost did,” I said.

“Care to explain?”

“Give me the painkillers and I will.” Co

“Right.” Elliot sighed. “We wait.”

I glared. “That was supposed to make you give me the pills.”

“I know.” He bared his teeth in a humorless grin. “I’d just rather have youmad at me than Gordan.”

“Why?” Quentin asked.

“I’m pretty sure I could outrun you at the moment, but Gordan knows where I sleep.”

“You sleep?” I said dubiously. “When?”

Elliot shrugged. “Popular opinion holds that’s the reason I have a house.”

“Right,” I said, fighting back a wave of dizziness. I let myself lean backward, into Co

“Did they . . .” Elliot glanced at the circle again. “. . . come?”

“The night-haunts?”

Elliot nodded, expression telling me he didn’t really want to know.

I answered anyway. “Yes.” In retrospect, I hadn’t wanted them to. There’s that damn hindsight again.

“This can wait until everyone else gets here,” said Co

I offered a wan smile, sending a silent thanks to whoever might be listening. “Good idea. I don’t want to go through all this more than once, anyway.”

“Fine,” Elliot said disgruntledly and turned to watch the door. I sighed. I was too tired to deal with clashing personalities and sulking locals. All I wanted to do was curl into a ball and sleep until the pain went away.

“Elliot . . .” I began, only to be saved from further discussion by the door swinging open. Gordan stepped into the room, first aid kit in her hand and a scowl on her face, closely followed by an anxious-eyed Jan. Oh, root and branch. How could I tell her what was going on when I still didn’t understand myself?

Gordan gaped at the bloody mess that was my left hand, planted her own hand on her hip, and demanded, “What have you done to yourself now?” The cafeteria’s acoustics caught her voice, bouncing it off the walls until it became an invasive presence. My headache a

“Please stop shouting,” I moaned. I wanted to yell, but I didn’t dare. My head might explode.

Quentin stood, moving to stand a half step in front of me. Even through the pain, I was amused; he was learning how to be protective. “Shut up!”

“Oh, the pretty boy thinks he’s go

“You little—”

“Stop it! Both of you!” Jan snapped. Quentin stopped mid-word, while Gordan snorted and looked away. Glaring, Jan shook her head. “You should be ashamed. Did you stop to think for a secondthat you weren’t helping her recover by fighting? Huh?” Neither answered. Jan sighed and knelt in front of me, lifting my chin with one hand. I didn’t fight. Co

Jan tilted my head to one side, then the other, studying my eyes. Whatever she saw there didn’t please her, because she frowned as she let go and stood. “The next person who yells is going to regret it. I don’t know whether whatever she did worked, but it’s left her with a pretty vicious case of magic-burn.”

Gordan turned to glare at her. “She’s the idiot that pushed her limits. Why do we have to be nice?”

“She was trying to help you!” Quentin snapped.

Jan sighed. “I know, Quentin. Gordan, can you please take a look at her wounds without being snotty about it?”

“I’ll try,” she muttered, and sat down in front of me, ignoring the dirty water covering the floor. “Give me your hand.” I did as she asked; it was easier than fighting her.

Gordan grabbed my wrist, twisting my palm toward the ceiling. The cut looked even worse in direct light. Jan gasped, while Quentin made a small gagging noise. Gordan just frowned, asking, “What did you do, argue with a lawnmower?”

I swallowed, vowing not to faint until she was done hurting me. “Silver knife. Summoning ritual. I didn’t mean to cut so deep.”

“You’re an idiot,” she said, sounding almost impressed. “You’ll be lucky if you missed the major muscles. What were you summoning again? Godzilla?”

Hands tightening on my shoulders, Co

“Oh, right, she’s a fucking moron,” said Gordan, sounding entirely too cheerful about it.

“Gordan . . .” said Jan warningly. Gordan subsided, grumbling under her breath as she resumed her inspection of my hand. Jan waited for me to relax before asking, “Did it work?” Elliot turned toward me and Gordan glanced up, both waiting for my answer.