Quentin froze, staring at me. “Can you do that?”

“We’ll never know until we try.” I was glad he hadn’t asked who I was calling. We’d both be happier if he didn’t know that part of things until he had to.

“Will they be able to help?”

“I have no idea.” The night-haunts live on the flesh of Faerie. They might decide I was an ideal midnight snack and rip me into pieces . . . but they might also decide to answer my questions. They had to have a way of knowing when anyone with fae blood died; they arrived too quickly not to. If they were capable of thought, they’d have a reason for their actions. They could share it with me. There was a chance that I’d get myself killed in the process, but that’s always a risk; if it worked, it would be worth it.

He watched my face as we left the office, starting down the hall toward the cafeteria. “Toby?”

“Yeah?”

“Is this a good idea?”

“Absolutely not. But it’s the only one I’ve got just now, so we’re going to run with it.”

“Right,” he said, with a sigh.

We walked the rest of the way to the cafeteria in silence. I opened the door to reveal Elliot sitting at one of the tables, staring into his cup. He looked up and smiled when we entered, trying to look like he wasn’t worried. It wasn’t working. “Hey.”

“Do we need to have a talk about what ‘keep someone with you’ means?” I asked, heading for the coffee machine. My exhaustion was fading, replaced by a sense of general irritation with the world. “Why are you here by yourself? Jan’s alone in her office.”

He sighed, putting down his cup. “You’re mad at me.”

“I’m mad at everyone.” I poured myself a cup of coffee as Quentin walked past me to the soda machines. “You’re the third person I’ve found alone. Are you trying to make this harder than it has to be?”

“No, I’m not. I’m sorry.”

“Forget about it,” I said, and took a long gulp of coffee, relaxing as I felt the caffeine starting to hit my system. “Quentin, get something nutritious to go with your soda. A Snickers bar or something.” Peanuts have protein, right? Topping off my coffee, I walked over to the pay phone.

“Dial nine for an outside line,” said Elliot.

“I don’t think that’s going to be an issue.” I put down my coffee, picked up the receiver and pressed my palm against the keypad, hitting all the numbers at once. The smell of grass and copper rose around me, almost cloyingly strong as I chanted, “Reach out, reach out and touch someone.” Quentin and Elliot were looking at me like I was nuts. That was all right; maybe I was.