Free A Local Habitation by Seanan McGuire Page A

What was I supposed to say? People don’t usually sidetrack conversations to tell you how their parents died.
    “Anyway, I run this place.” Jan smiled. “I’m a Capricorn, a computer programmer, and a vegetarian. And I bake a mean chocolate chip cookie.”
    I’ve seen the “silly me” routine countless times from Sylvester, usually just before he goes for someone’s throat. It’s an effective camouflage when used on people who don’t know it. I put up with it from Sylvester; he’s earned my tolerance. Jan, on the other hand, hadn’t earned a thing.
    “Look,” I said, trying not to sound as frustrated as I felt, “are we going to have an intelligent conversation today, or should my assistant and I go and check into our hotel? I’m not leaving until I can reassure your uncle that you’re all right.”
    “It’s sweet that he’s worried, but I promise, we’re fine.” Her face was calm as she moved to the coffeemaker, picking up the pot and waving it in my direction. “You want some?”
    “He’s afraid you might be having some sort of trouble.” Was it my imagination, or did she jump when I said that? Her hands were shaking. Interesting. Maybe her flippancy was even more of an act than I’d thought. I looked at her face, noting the new guardedness in her eyes.
    “There’s no trouble here.”
    “Are you sure?” I asked. The trembling in her hands was getting worse. She put the coffeepot down, shooting me a defiant look. “He’d want me to help if there was.”
    “I’m totally sure. If there were trouble, I’d know—we have an excellent reporting system in place.”
    In English that probably meant the building was on fire and I was the only one who hadn’t noticed. Shifting topics, I said, “I’ve never seen a Daoine Sidhe with glasses before.”
    “Consequence of the modern era,” she replied, relaxing. “I stared into too many bright lights as a kid.”
    “And they couldn’t heal you magically? I’d think an Ellyllon . . .”
    “I did the damage to myself. I figure I should live with it.”
    “I see. So you figure you have to live with whatever’s broken here, too?”
    “Nothing’s broken,” she said calmly. “Everything is going great.”
    I shook my head. “You’re a terrible liar.”
    Jan’s mouth dropped open. I took a step back. Blood means power, and this scrawny, bespectacled girl could probably fling me halfway around the world before I had time to ask for the truck’s license number.
    “I am not lying,” she snarled. I flinched, and she took a deep breath, adding more calmly, “It’s just been a little busy lately. That’s all.” She picked up the coffeepot again, finally pouring herself a cup.
    I thought Sylvester was being overly concerned when he sent me to Fremont: thanks to Jan’s reactions, I was rethinking my opinion. Even I don’t normally cause panic attacks just by asking a few questions. She’d lied to me twice already. If nothing was wrong, why had she left so many messages for her uncle? “Well, do you mind if we stay a few days, just to be sure? Sylvester asked me to show Quentin the ropes, and I hate to disappoint my liege.”
    Her eyes widened as she realized she couldn’t say no without risking her uncle sending an entire diplomatic detachment. I was her one shot at subtle. Then the moment of panic was gone, replaced by another glossy smile. “Of course. Do you have somewhere to stay?”
    “Yes, we do,” I said, letting her think that she was fooling me. If she wanted to lie to herself, I was glad to help: it might keep her from realizing how much she was giving away. “Luna arranged hotel rooms for us.”
    “Why am I not surprised?” Her smile became a little more honest, affording me another brief look at the fear lurking underneath. “How’s she doing?”
    “Luna’s doing well; she’s planning a new garden.”
    “Oh? What kind?”
    “Wildflowers.” It was going to be a mourning garden, dedicated to the memory of those