Free A Local Habitation by Seanan McGuire Page B

who died while I was searching for Evening’s killer. There was even a plot for Devin. Luna sent Quentin to show me the plans, and I cried until I was almost sick. But I didn’t want to tell Jan any of that.
    “It’s good that she’s keeping busy.” The lightness of her tone was obviously intended to divert me, and it didn’t win her any points.
    “Jan?”
    “Yes?”
    “Can we finish this later? I need to check in with Sylvester, and Quentin has studying to do.” That last bit was a lie, but there was no way I was going to go off and leave the kid in this loony bin. I have too much respect for him.
    “Of course.” Jan glanced toward the window. “Wow, is it sunset already? How about you come back in the morning? That’ll give me time to check on a few things.”
    Like whether or not we’d really come from her uncle. “That’ll be fine.”
    “Great.” She walked back to her desk, setting her mug on an already dangerously cluttered corner. “Do you need someone to walk you out?”
    “We can manage.” I wanted time to consider my options before I approached her again. If that meant finding my own way back to the cafeteria and out to the car, fine. I was a big girl. I could handle it.
    “Great.” With that, I was dismissed. She sat down on the desk next to her mug and retrieved the computer she’d been using when I arrived, attention already focusing on something else.
    It’s always fun when your allies are the ones you want to slap. I left the office without another word, somehow managing not to slam the door, and walked back the way I was pretty sure Alex and I had come. I almost regretted refusing Jan’s offer of an escort; maybe I could have convinced her to send for Alex. Of the people I’d met so far, he seemed the closest to normal. Besides, I wanted to figure out what he was—a little mystery can go a long way, and he had just enough to be interesting.
    After half an hour of wandering the halls, I was ready to admit that I was lost. Every window showed a different view of the grounds, giving me absolutely no help with my navigation. I considered climbing out one of the ground-floor windows, but dismissed the idea; with my luck, exiting that way would make it impossible to find the cafeteria again, and I needed to take Quentin with me.
    I finally spotted the familiar sky-blue door at the end of a series of sterile white halls that looked like something out of a soap opera hospital. The cafeteria. “About time,” I muttered, hurrying to reach it before it could find a way to disappear. If the hallways in the knowe were actually capable of movement, I wouldn’t put it past them to change just to spite me.
    The cafeteria was still almost deserted, save for a single addition: the woman sitting across from Quentin, her chin resting on the balled knuckles of her left hand. He had a wide-eyed, almost stunned look of infatuation on his face, like he’d just figured out what the female gender was for. I’d never seen him look that much like a stereotypical teenager.
    I let the door swing shut, clearing my throat. Neither one turned. “Hello?”
    Now the woman looked around and smiled. She had a pale, pointed face, framed by straight black hair in a pageboy cut. Her eyes were orange—the same poppy-bright shade as Alex’s—and a scar marred one cheek-bone, almost invisible against her pallor. If she’d seen the sun in the last three years, I’d be surprised.
    “Hi!” she said, still smiling. “We were starting to wonder if you’d show up.”
    Quentin shook himself out of his daze and gave me a small wave, half-smiling. “Hey, Toby. Did you find Countess Torquill?”
    “It’s Countess O’Leary, actually, and yes, I did. Who’s your friend?”
    “Oh—sorry. I didn’t mean to be rude.” The woman stood, offering me her hand. The top of her head only came up to my shoulder. “I’m Terrie Olsen. Nice to meet you.”
    “October Daye.” I took her hand and shook, once. “I see