Read A Local Habitation for Free Online

matter how bad your directions are. Unfortunately, Sylvester’s directions were a lot more interested in defining fae territories than, say, providing me with street names. I knew exactly whose fiefdom we were in, when we’d entered it, and how far we could go before we left. I just didn’t know where we were.
    “We’re going to ALH?” Quentin perked up. “They do Summerlands-compatible computer and wiring systems. I’m pretty sure they did the phones at Shadowed Hills. I have one of their MP3 players.” He held up a little white box about the size of a pack of cards, adding proudly, “It works no matter how deep you go.”
    “Works to do what?”
    “Play music.”
    I eyed it. “Where does the cassette go?”
    “Toby.” He rolled his eyes. “You really are a Luddite.”
    “I spent fourteen years as a fish, remember? I’m allowed to be clueless about your crazy modern techno-toys.” I waved a hand. “Anyway, I think the company’s somewhere in the business district.”
    “You think?”
    I thrust the folder of instructions at him and restarted the car. “Here. See if you can figure out where we’re supposed to be going.”
    “Okay . . . hey.” He flipped through the papers, frowning. “Where are the directions?”
    “And thus you put your finger on the problem.” I shrugged. “We go left.”
    “Left?”
    “We’ve got to start somewhere.”
    “Left it is.” He sighed. “I have got to show you how to use the on-line map services.”
    “Maybe later.”
    The two of us working together were able to make something like sense from Sylvester’s twisted notion of “giving directions,” and twenty minutes later we pulled up in front of a gate with a number that matched the one in the file. The fence stretched a full block in either direction, protecting a tangle of undergrowth Sleeping Beauty’s groundskeeper would have envied. The plants I could identify were fast-growing varieties probably chosen for the ability to cover ground in a hurry, while the trees were all eucalyptus, the tallest weed known to man. They grow fast enough to create thick cover years before almost anything else, and here in California where they have no native predators, they grow taller than they were ever meant to.
    A stone arch spanned the driveway, supporting a portcullis that looked like it was stolen from the set of Camelot. Something flashed in the darkness behind the gate; I doubted it was a deer.
    “Are you sure this is the right place?”
    I pointed to the wooden sign reading ALH COMPUTING and said, “Looks like it.”
    “How do we get in?”
    “Good question. Hang on.” There was an intercom set into the fence: high-security or not, they needed a way to know when they had guests. I got out of the car, moving to study it more closely. “Hey, Quentin, bring me the folder.”
    “So I’m your servant now?”
    “Very funny. Give me the damn folder.” I held out my hand. Laughing, he passed the folder over.
    There was no security code in Sylvester’s directions; there wasn’t even mention of a security system. Lovely. I leaned forward, pressing what I assumed was the “talk” button. “Hello? Anyone there?” There was no reply. I shook my head, looking back at Quentin. “Ideas?”
    He shrugged. “We could go home.”
    “Unfortunately, no.” Sighing, I turned back to the intercom and hit the button again. “Hello? This is October Daye—I’m here to see January Torquill. Can someone let me in?” I waited several minutes, frowning. It was a nice day, but I didn’t want to spend it outside.
    Finally, annoyed, I blew the intercom a kiss and said, “Speak ‘Friend’ and enter,” while projecting the firm belief that I’d entered the correct code. The smell of copper rose in the air as a sharp, stabbing pain hit me behind the eyes, making it clear that even if the spell didn’t work, my body’s limited magical resources had noticed it and debited me accordingly.
    All fae have a limit to what