A Local Habitation Read Online Free PDF Page A

me killed. I couldn’t blame her for reacting that way. After all, the last time I went on a job for him, I got turned into a fish and spent fourteen years swimming around a pond in Golden Gate Park. Still. That sort of thing doesn’t happen twice, and I didn’t want her to worry.
    My liege knew where I was going, and my cats were taken care of. That just left one more call that needed to be made before I could leave. It wasn’t to a local area code, even though the apartment I was calling was only a few miles away. Strictly speaking, I wasn’t sure I was even calling a phone.
    Balancing the receiver on my shoulder, I pressed the keys in rapid reverse order. There was a click, followed by the hum of an expectant silence as I chanted, “Mares eat oats and does eat oats, but little lambs eat ivy. A kid’ll eat ivy, too. Wouldn’t you?” It wasn’t much of a spell. It didn’t need to be. All it had to do was remind an existing connection of where it was supposed to lead me.
    There was a pause as lines that had no reason to cross crossed themselves and wires were rerouted to lead to an apartment that had never signed any agreements with the phone company. The receiver clicked twice and began making a deep, murky buzzing noise. I waited. The Luidaeg likes special effects: if you can’t handle them, don’t call her. You could always just drop by—assuming you aren’t particularly fond of having legs. “Just dropping by” on a water- hag older than modern civilization isn’t the sort of hobby meant to ensure a long life span.
    The buzzing stopped with a final click, and a husky, aggravated voice said, “Hello?”
    “Hello, Luidaeg.”
    “Toby, is that you?” Her irritation was fading.
    “Yeah, it’s me.”
    “What the hell do you want?”
    “I’m going to Tamed Lightning.”
    She paused. “Tamed Lightning? Why would you go there? It’s nothing but dirt and morons as far as the eye can see.”
    “Sylvester’s sending me.”
    “Right. The head moron.” She paused again. “Why are you telling me this?”
    “I may not make it over this week, depending on how long things take. I thought I’d warn you.”
    “Oh.” Her disappointment was briefly audible before she covered it with briskness, saying, “Well, good. I can get some things done without needing to worry about your happy ass showing up.”
    “Glad you don’t mind.”
    “Mind? Why should I mind?”
    “No reason.”
    “Good. Be careful out there. Don’t go into the dark alone; don’t let their eyes fool you. Remember what you’re looking for. Don’t trust what the blood tells you. Always look back.”
    “What?”
    “Nothing, Toby—it’s nothing,” she said, sounding slightly disgusted. “Get the hell off my phone.”
    “See you when I get back.”
    “Oh—Toby?” Her tone was almost hesitant. That was a first.
    “Yeah.”
    “I owe you an answer. Come back alive.”
    “I will, don’t worry.”
    “I get to be the one that kills you.” The connection cut off with a snap. I grinned, replacing the receiver in its cradle.
    The Luidaeg and I met six months ago, when she provided me with an essential clue to the identity of Evening’s killer. That meeting left her in my debt, owing me an answer to any question I wanted to ask. She couldn’t kill me while she owed me, and I have to admit that it was kind of nice to know that she couldn’t follow through on her threats. Unpaid debts weigh on the purebloods; I have no doubt they weigh on the Firstborn even more. She started calling after our first meeting—unlisted numbers don’t mean much to someone who thinks the telephone is a cute idea that won’t last—demanding to know when I’d clear her debts so she could kill me. They weren’t the best conversations I’ve ever had, but they were reliable, and before long they were even welcome. It was good to have somebody I could talk to.
    It took a long time for me to realize how lonely she was. It’s hard to think of the