Long Hot Summoning (3 page)

“It’s got to be down there.”

“Why?”

“Because it isn’t anywhere . . . What are you eating?” Sam swallowed. “Nothing.”

As they entered the hall, the tile turned to a rough concrete floor. The bench and its flanking planters of plastic trees, although outwardly no different from other benches and other trees, had a temporary look. Only three stores long, the hall ended in a gray plywood wall stenciled with a large sign that read, “Construction Site: No Entry.” The last store before the wall was the Emporium.

Tucked into another convenient shadow, Diana studied the storefront through narrowed eyes. “I can’t sense a power signature, so I’m guessing the power surge only went one way.“

“If they’d known you were coming, they’d have baked a cake?” She stared down at the cat. “Something like that, yeah. Who . . . ?”

“Your father.”

“Well, do me a favor and don’t pick up any more of his speech patterns because that would be too weird.”

“Why?”

“Sam, you sleep on my bed. Just don’t, okay?”

He shrugged, clearly humoring her. “Okay.”

Diana turned her attention back to the store. “They’re not being very subtle, are they? If any of the Lineage had ever window-shopped their way down here, the name alone would have given the whole thing away.”

“The Lineage is big into window shopping?”

“Not my point.”

“Okay. But I think Erlking Emporium has a marketable ring to it.”

“Marketable? First of all, you’re a cat; marketable for you involves a higher percentage of beef byproducts. Second; do you even know what an Erlking is?” Sam shot her an insulted amber glare, the tip of his tail flicking back and forth in short, choppy arcs. “According to German legend, it’s a malevolent goblin who lures people, especially children, to their destruction.” Which it was. “Sorry. I keep forgetting about that whole used-to-be-an-angel-had-higher-knowtedge thing.”

“Yeah, you do. But I learned that off a PBS special on mythology.”

“While I was where?”

“Cleaning the splattered remains of a history essay off your bedroom walls.”

“Right.” A lapse in concentration and the Riel Rebellion had spilled out of her closet. It had taken her the entire weekend to clean up the mess, and most of it had turned out to be nonrecyclable. “I think I’ve seen enough. Let’s go.” The purely physical lock on the door took only a trickle of power to open.

Sam radiated disapproval as he slipped through into the store. “Breaking and entering.”

“Technically, only entering.” Locking the door behind them, Diana tried not to sneeze at the overpowering odor of gardenia coming off the display of candles immediately to her left. A quick glance showed that the gardenia had easily overpowered vanilla, cinnamon, bayberry, lilac, belladonna, monkshood, pholiotina, and yohimbe. Unless the Colonial Candle Company was branching out into herbal hallucinogens, at least half the display had clearly been brought over from the Otherside.

Not just the bracelet, then.

Rubbing her nose, she moved cautiously into the store, skirting a locked glass cabinet filled with crystal balls, and ending up nearly treading on Sam’s tail as, hissing, he backed away
horn.. . .
Diana bent over to take a closer look and had no better idea what animal the pile of stuffed creatures was supposed to represent. In spite of neon fur, they looked remarkably lifelike-given a loose enough definition of both life and like.

“I was just startled,” Sam muttered, vigorously washing a front paw.

“If I was closer to the ground, they’d have startled me, too.”

“I wasn’t afraid.”

“I know.” She stroked down the raised hair along his back as she straightened.

“I think we can safely say the hole’s not out here. Let’s check out the storeroom.”

“It’s not back there either.”

Not Sam. Not unless Sam’s voice had deepened, aged, and moved up near the ceiling.

Diana dropped down behind a rack of resin frogs dressed in historical military uniforms and began to gather power.

“Think about it for a minute, Keeper; if I wasn’t on your side, I’d have already sounded the alarm. Why don’t you drop the fireworks and come over here so we can talk.”

He-whoever he was-had a point. Diana stood, slowly, and looked around. The shadows made it difficult to tell for certain, but she’d have been willing to bet actual cash money that she and Sam were alone in the store. “Where are you?”

“Up in the corner.”

The only thing she could see in the corner was the convex circle of a security mirror. Just as she was realizing the reflection seemed a little off, a familiar pair of blue-on-blue eyes appeared. “You’ve got to be kidding me. They’re using a magic mirror for security?”

“Ain’t life a bitch,” the mirror agreed. “Got pulled out of a well-deserved retirement-quiet hall, nice view out an oriel window-and got stuffed up here by Gaston the Wondertroll.”

“So there’s a real troll?”

“Large as life, and twice as ugly. Actually, larger than life if we’re reflecting accurately.”

“Great.”

“I wouldn’t worry about him, kid; he’s just the front man.” Faint blue frown lines. “Front troll. Those actually running this segue are keeping their heads tucked well down until it’s too late for your lot to stop it.” Good thing she’d touched that bracelet, then. The energy discharged had been enough to crack the shielding and send the Summons. No touching, no Summons, no chance to stop the . . . “Wait a minute. Did you say,
segue?”

“I did.”

“Okay. This is one of those times when I really wish I could swear.” She took three quick steps away from the mirror. Three quick steps back. “I should have known there was more to this than a cheesy gift shop selling ...“ A glance down. ”. . . fake fairies on sticks.“

“Look again.”

Under the lacquer and the glitter . . .

“Eww.”

“Duck!”

“Where?” Diana didn’t even want to think about what these guys could do to a duck. A sudden circle of light hit the back wall of the store and she dropped to the ground. Oh.
Duck.

The emporium’s door rattled as someone shook it, testing the lock.

Now who could that be? Two guesses and the first one doesn’t count.
Flat against the carpet to keep the curve of her backpack behind cover, she tried not to think about the dark stain just off the end of her nose.

“Think you can get away with anything. Young bodies, supple, lissom.” Adding that to lithe and limber, there seemed to be a thesaurus specifically for dirty old men.

“You can’t hide forever.” The circle of light swept across the store and disappeared. Through the glass came a muffled
shunk kree, shunk kree
as the security guard moved away.

Remembering the warning delivered by imaginary fingers, Diana hissed,

“Sam, stay down,” a heartbeat before the light flashed back through the window. She counted a slow ten after
that
light disappeared before she stood. “Sam?” He crawled out from behind a box of glow-in-the-dark Silly Putty and shook his fur back into place. “Don’t worry about me. I’m way faster than a geriatric rent-a-cop.”

“Good. So.” Arms folded, she stared up at the mirror. “Let’s cut to the chase before we’re interrupted again.”

“Fine with me, Keeper. Here’s the deal: I give you what help I can; in return, you get me out of here when you shut this place down.”

“Agreed.”

“And you recognize that when the shit hits the fan, I’m breakable and more than just a little exposed.”

She nodded. “We’ll be careful.”

“We? That would be you and the cat?”

“Us, too.” Diana took one last look around the store and decided she really didn’t need to know just what exactly the weights on the wind chimes were made of.

“I think we’re going to need a little help.”

Dropping his spray bottle of window cleaner onto the old-fashioned wooden counter, Dean McIssac crossed the small office and caught the phone on the second ring. “Elysian Fields Guest House.” A small frown of concentration appeared as he flipped open the reservation book, a leather-bound tome with the phases of the moon prominently displayed by each date. “Yes, sir, we still have rooms available for next Wednesday. We can certainly accommodate you and your mother. Sorry? Oh. Your mummy. No, that’s fine; many of our guests arrive after dark. We’ll hold the rooms until midnight. A dehumidifier? That can be arranged, I understand how mold and mildew could be a problem. No, unfortunately, I can’t guarantee the Keeper will be here, but I’m sure you’ll find our
- . .”
His cheeks flushed. “Thank you, sir. I’ll see you Wednesday.”

“Flushed is a good look on you.”

“Claire!” The receiver fell the last six inches into the cradle as Dean flag-jumped the counter and gathered the smiling Keeper into his arms.

“You made good time,” he murmured when they finally came up for air.

“I had a good reason.”

“One that I should know about?”

Dark brown eyes gleamed suggestively up at him. “Definitely.” His fingers tightened on her shoulders and he began to pull her close again.

“Hel-lo! Crushing the cat here!”

Dean released his hold like he had springs in his fingers, and Claire leaped back, exposing the indignant, black-and-white cat cradled between them. “I’m sorry, Austin. I just got excited about being home.”

“Oh, yeah,” he muttered as she set him carefully on the counter. “It’s home that gets you excited. Tell us another one. No, wait . . .” He turned and glared at her from a single emerald eye. “. . . don’t.”

“Okay.” Her hands free, she slid them up the sculpted muscle of Dean’s torso and around the back of his neck, fingers entwined in thick hair. “I can’t resist a man in a pink T-shirt.”

He shifted his grip to her waist, thumbs working against the damp line of flesh between cropped tank and skirt. “Someone buried a red catnip square in the laundry basket.”

“That’s right. Blame the cat. The starving cat!” Austin snapped after a moment when it became quite clear he’d been forgotten again. “The old starving cat who just spent three hours in a car listening to sappy tales of dear, departed Muffy-who probably threw herself in front of that truck in an effort to escape the schmaltz with what was left of her dignity. The old starving cat who’s going to give you a count of three before he starts making pointed comments about your technique!“

“Austin, there’s a package of calf liver in the fridge.” Dean slid his hands down to the backs of Claire’s thighs and lifted her up onto the counter, hiking her skirt up over her knees. “It’s after being yours if you’ll disappear for ten minutes.”

“Fifteen,” Claire growled, licking at the sweat beading Dean’s throat. She kicked off her sandals, crossed her ankles behind him, and dragged him closer.

“You guys do know this is a hotel, right? Like, get a room!” Forehead to forehead, Dean stared deep into Claire’s eyes. “You didn’t lock the door?”

“Apparently not.”

Lip curled in disgust, Diana closed the front door, pointedly locked it, and strode across the lobby toward the long hall that led to the back of the guesthouse.

“We’ve got a bit of shopping-mall-takes-over-the-world situation here, but you guys go right ahead and continue with that whole blatant heterosexuality thing; there’s probably time. I’ll just make myself a sandwich and feed the cats. Coming, Austin?”

“Finally,” he snorted, jumping carefully down off the counter, “someone who has their priorities straight!”

“Are they always like that?” Sam wondered as the older cat fell into step beside him.

“Are you kidding? They’ve only been apart for three days-you should see them after a week. Spontaneous combustion.”

Sam frowned. “Wouldn’t that kill them?”

“You’d think.”

As the footsteps of the two cats and her sister faded toward the kitchen, Claire sighed. “Well, I’m no longer in the mood. You?”

“Not so much. That was after ending things for me.” He lifted her down off the counter and steadied her while she slipped her sandals back on. “Just so I’m clear on this; strangling your sister is not an option, then?”

“If you want to strangle my sister,” Claire told him as they left the lobby,

“you’ll have to wait in line.”

“I hope you guys postponed instead of finishing,” Diana snorted as they entered the kitchen, “because if that was it, Claire should file a complaint. I mean it’s not like I’m an expert on these things,” she continued, assaulting a leftover roast with the carving knife, “but someone’s getting left a little short. No offense.” She grinned up at Dean.

“And yet, I’m offended anyway.” Grasping her wrist with one hand, he confiscated the knife with the other and jerked his head toward the dining room table.

“You sit. I’ll do this.”

“I don’t know, Dean. I like my sandwiches made slowly and with care.”

“And you might want to reconsider further commentary,” Claire interjected from the dining room, “since he’s eight inches taller than you and holding a knife.”

“Please,” Diana scoffed, grabbing a bottle of juice from the fridge and coming around the counter that separated the two rooms, “Dean’s a pussycat.”

“Now,
I’m
offended,” Austin muttered.

Sam looked up from his cat food and frowned. “I thought you liked him.”

“Yeah. So?”

“I don’t understand.”

“You’re not supposed to,” Claire told the younger cat comfortingly. “Let it go and move on.” Pulling out one of the antique table’s dozen chairs, she folded a leg up onto the red velvet seat and sat, indicating that Diana should do the same.

Diana didn’t so much sit as gang up with gravity to assault the furniture.

Claire winced as the chair protested, but hundred-year-old joints and wood glue held. “You said something about a shopping mall taking over the world?”

“I’m amazed you heard me.”

“You have a talent for attracting attention. I assume this concerns your first Summons as an active Keeper?”

“Got it in one.” Smiling her thanks at Dean for the sandwich, she waited until he sat down and pulled his seat up close behind Claire’s before she continued. “It all started this afternoon on what was, thank God, my very last day of school ...” When the story arrived at the mall, Claire interrupted.