Quentin blinked at him. I bit back a groan.

“Embarrassing stories later, paperwork now, please,” I said, and herded them toward the end of the hall with Connor snickering all the way.

His snickering stopped when we entered the office. He took in the posters on the walls and the tank of Hippocampi before turning to me, asking, “Whose office is this?”

“Was. Colin Dunne’s.” He paled. I cocked my head to the side. “You knew him?”

“Not well, but, yeah, I did. How . . . ?”

“Same way as everyone else here: under circumstances we don’t understand just yet. We’re working on it. That’s why you’re getting Quentin the hell out of here, remember?”

Connor nodded, very slowly. “Where’s his skin?”

His . . . oh, oak and ash. Groaning, I put a hand over my face. “It was in the car.”

“The car.”

“Yeah.”

“Which exploded.”

“Uh-huh.”

“With Colin’s skin inside it.” He was starting to get angry; I could hear it in his tone.

I dropped my hand to see Quentin looking back and forth between us in utter confusion. Poor kid was probably fostered from a landlocked state. He wouldn’t understand the succession laws of the Selkie families.

“It wasn’t intentional. The car seemed like the best place at the time. It just—”

“How the hell am I supposed to tell his family that not only is Colin dead, but his skin’s been lost? ‘So sorry, you’re down a member, forever?’ Oberon’s teeth, October, do you understand what a big deal this is? Did you even think—”

“You need to take some sort of sedative,” commented Alex from the doorway. “Valium, maybe. Or just weed. Colin was a big smoker, there’s probably a dime bag somewhere in here.” He was rumpled, like he’d just gotten out of bed, wearing jeans and a black T-shirt that read “Mathematicians Do It by the Numbers.”

I smiled. I couldn’t help it. “Alex. Hey. We missed you last night.”

“Sometimes, even I must go off duty.” He entered the office, walking over to offer Connor his hand. “Alex Olsen. Pleasure to meet you.”

Connor didn’t take the hand. He just scowled at him. “I’m not sure your opinion was asked for.”

“True, it wasn’t.” Alex dropped his hand, looking entirely unbothered by Connor’s reaction. “Toby, you need me to help carry anything? Jan said you guys were setting up in the caf, and I just wanted to see if you needed any manual labor.”

“Here.” I passed him the drawer I’d taken from Barbara’s desk. “Where’s your sister?”

“Asleep in her office,” said Alex. “Don’t worry. Nothing’s going to happen to her.”

“You’re sure . . . ?”

“Terrie’s safe as houses.” He smiled. “Nothing bothers her when she’s sleeping.”

“If you’re sure. Quentin, Connor, get the rest of those folders. You’re staying where I can keep an eye on you until Danny gets here.” United by their apparently mutual irritation, they nodded, picking up the folders and heading for the door. Connor “accidentally” hit Alex with his elbow as he passed. I raised an eyebrow. “Behold the maturity.”

“I get it a lot,” said Alex, with a shrug. “After you.”

I considered him for a moment and then nodded, following Connor and Quentin into the hall. “We’d better be quick, before they get themselves lost forever.”

“Would that be such a shame?”

“Don’t tempt me.”

The brief ease we’d shared was gone, washed away by the tension. I eyed Quentin and Connor as we walked into the cafeteria, dumping my own share of the files on a table before heading to the pay phone. “Make yourselves useful and start putting those in alphabetical order.”

“I’m your secretary now?” Connor asked, still looking annoyed.

“Consider yourselves the clerical pool,” I snapped back, and dialed.

My suspicions about the phones were justified; the phone barely managed to ring before it was snatched up, and Sylvester’s voice was saying, “October? Is that you? Are you there? Are you all right?”

“Whoa—I didn’t think you’d be the one on phone duty.” The image of Sylvester spending the night standing by the pay phone, waiting for news, was funny and tragic all at the same time. He couldn’t help. I was miles away with his niece and his foster, and he couldn’t do a thing but wait.

“What’s going on? Is Connor there?”

“He’s here, but, well . . . he didn’t bring a car. We’re calling for a cab, but it’ll be a little while. Your Grace, I need to tell you what I’m planning. I’m going to summon—”

“Don’t worry about that; I don’t need to know. I trust your judgment. There’s been a change of plans.”

I blinked. “What?”

“It’s not safe for them to be on the roads. Tell Connor that he’s to stay with you until your business there is done, and you can all return to Shadowed Hills together.”

“With all due respect, Your Grace, I don’t think you quite understand just how bad things are getting over here. We’ve got a lot of dead bodies in the basement, for a start, and that never strikes me as a good sign.”

“There’s nowhere safer than by your side.”

I couldn’t decide whether his faith in me was touching or insane. “Your Grace—”

“Just tell him to stay with you. Please, October. This will all be over soon.”

“I don’t think this is a good idea.”

“Trust me.”

That was that. Sylvester was my liege; if he wanted me to keep Connor and Quentin in Tamed Lightning, I didn’t exactly have a choice. I set the receiver back in the cradle, turning to face the trio who had watched curiously throughout the call.

“There’s been a change of plans,” I said, slowly. And with Oberon as my witness, I had no idea what I was going to do about it.

NINETEEN

“TOBY?” SAID QUENTIN HESITANTLY.

“What?” I was sitting at one of the cafeteria’s many tables with my head in my hands, fingers buried in my hair, trying to figure out what to do next. Recognizing my mood, Alex and Connor had been walking on eggshells since I got off the phone. Alex had even gone so far as to scrounge a box of donuts from somewhere in the kitchen before going off to tell Jan to call Danny and tell him not to come, while Connor brewed a fresh pot of coffee. Maybe more than one; every time someone refilled my cup, I drained it, making it impossible to judge exactly how much caffeine I’d had.