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than the game of “ring around the poison oak” you had to play to get into the knowe at Shadowed Hills. “And there’ve never been any slipups?”
    “One or two.” He opened another door. The hall beyond was carpeted in a bilious green, and the walls were studded with corkboards covered in comic strips and memos. The windows indicated that we’d somehow managed to reach the second floor without taking the stairs—cute. “Nothing major, and they’ve all been taken care of with no lasting harm done.”
    “Meaning . . . ?”
    “We had a Kitsune on staff until fairly recently.” Alex’s smile faltered, replaced by an expression I didn’t have a name for. “She made sure they didn’t remember anything.”
    Not all Kitsune can manipulate memories, but the ones that can tend to be damn good. I nodded, almost grudgingly. “Good approach.”
    “We thought so.” The expression I couldn’t name vanished as quickly as it came. “You don’t have a phone, do you?”
    “What?”
    “A cellular telephone?” He mimed talking into a receiver as he continued, “If you do, it’s going to be useless inside the knowe. If you want, I can have it modified.”
    “Modified?”
    “Gordan replaces the battery with one of her special ones, works a little voodoo, and gets the circuits realigned. She’s our hardware whiz.” He shrugged. “I just use the toys she makes.”
    “Interesting.”
    “Believe me, so are you, but this is where the bus stops.” He gestured toward a door. “That’s Jan’s office. Try to be nice? She’s usually easygoing, but it’s been a hard few weeks, and she’s a little cranky. I’d hate to see that pretty head of yours get bitten off.”
    “I’ll be as nice as she lets me,” I said, turning toward the door.
    My hand was raised to knock when he said, “Toby?”
    “Yes?”
    “Nice meeting you.”
    That earned him a smile. “Same here,” I said, and knocked.
    The sound of my knuckles meeting the wood was sharp and slightly hollow, indicating that the room on the other side probably wasn’t actually connected to the doorframe. Physical reference points don’t matter as much in Faerie; Jan’s office could have been almost anywhere in the knowe and still have been connected to the same door.
    A voice called, “Come in!” Shaking my head, I turned the knob and did as I was told. There’s a first time for everything.

SIX

    T HE OFFICE WAS THE SIZE of my living room, but was packed with enough stuff to fill my apartment. Shelves and filing cabinets rose out of a sea of papers, providing landmarks in the universally messy landscape. Computers lined the walls, linked together by a feverish tangle of wiring, and the glow from their screens added a green undertone to the light, making the room seem slightly unreal. A coffeemaker surrounded by an invasion force of green plastic army men rested on a shelf by the door; the toaster oven next to it had its own problems, since it looked like it was about to be gutted by a herd of brightly-colored plastic dinosaurs.
    “It’s the place where paper goes to die,” I muttered.
    A narrow path through the mess led to a desk in front of the room’s single green-curtained window. The brunette from downstairs was perched cross- legged on the desk’s edge, surrounded by towers of paper, attention focused on the portable computer balanced on her knees. Her glasses were sliding down her nose; they’d already made it more than halfway.
    She raised her head and smiled, almost sincerely enough to hide the flash of wariness in her eyes. “Yes, it is. Can I help you with something?” Her tone was pure Valley Girl, implying a level of intelligence closely akin to that of granite.
    I wasn’t buying it. “I’m looking for Countess January Torquill. Is this her office?”
    “Sorry, no. It’s mine.” The smile didn’t waver.
    “Well, I need to find her. I’m here at the request of her uncle.”
    The wariness returned, barely kept in check by her