Long Hot Summoning

“They’re in no danger.”

“Okay.” Probably best to leave it at that. Feeling, well, old in the face of Arthur’s embarrassment, Claire searched for a less loaded topic. “So, the darkness—I’m a little surprised it’s lasted this long. Time’s been moving fairly quickly up until now.”

“The darkness last as long as the fire does.”

Were it not for the implications of that statement, his relief would have been amusing. Claire glanced down at her watch. The second hand lay motionless over the two.“Great.” Once Diana reached the area controlled by the dark forces, she’d be moving in a totally different time.At a totally different time? Prepositions just weren’t set up for this sort of thing.

According to her watch, Dean and Austin weren’t moving at all. On the bright side, that should keep them out of trouble.

*

Austin poked Dean’s rigid arm with a paw and snorted. Walking around the phone, he took a closer look at the watch on the wrist below the hand holding the receiver. Stopped.

“Fortunately,” he said, trotting to the end of the counter and leaping carefully down, “time waits for no cat.”

And with any luck, the fridge door would be open.

*

The weight of a constant regard between her shoulder blades spun Claire around.“What?”

Sam blinked.“Nothing.”

“Well, stop it.”

The weight didn’t change. She turned again. “What did I say?”

“Weren’t you listening either?”

“Did Diana tell you to watch me?”

“Why would she do that?”

“Are you watching me?”

He licked his shoulder.“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“A cat may look at a king,” Arthur observed, grinning.

“Yes…” Claire shifted emphatically on the cushion, feeling a bit like a butterfly on a pin. “…but he’s not looking atyou.”

*

shunk kree, shunk kree

You can’t see me. You can’t see m…us. You can’t see us.

Diana repeated the mantra silently, hoping it would be enough. She could make it enough. The smallest act of will would slide that flashlight beam right on by. But the smallest act of will would break the Rules, strengthen the bad guys, and get her in major shit with Claire and the rest of the lineage.

So all she had was hope.

Hope, and Kris’ warm body pressed tightly against her as they squeezed into the darkest part of the shadow.

Okay. The situation wasn’tall bad.

The glass behind her shivered at a sudden impact, but the beam never wavered and the step/drag of the old man’s approach didn’t change. How had he not heard that?

“I know you’re here. Soft, round flesh not to be touched.”

shunk kree, shunk kree

Maybe he hadn’t actually crossed over. Maybe he couldn’t hear the music and the boots banging against the glass because he was walking the borderland between the world and the Otherside.

“Pliant, flexible, heated limbs. Can’t hide forever. I will find you. Oh, yes.”

Maybe he was a freakin’ fruitcake and not the good kind of fruitcake either. No icing. The kind of dried fruit that either broke fillings or curled tongues. Cake dense enough to pound nails with…

And I’m so totally babbling.

She’d faced demons, disasters, and Hell itself with more composure. What was it about this guy?

For that matter, whatwas this guy?

The circle of light swept up the underside of the staircase, then flicked across the concourse to illuminate the window of a gift shop where a line of porcelain dolls sat with their eyes squeezed shut. Hard to tell for sure at such a distance, but they looked much the way Diana felt. The old man couldn’t possibly be seeing the Otherside contents of the stores or he’d have surely reacted to the rude gesture being made by a well-dressed teddy bear propped up behind the dolls. First teddy bear Diana’d ever seen with articulated fingers.

If he followed the path of the light, if he kept it pointed in the same direction, he’d be heading away from them, down one of the short arms that turned the lower concourse into a weird kind of enclosed “y.” He’d be heading into territory controlled by the dark side. Diana wondered howthey coped, if his light had any effect or if his overlap only included the elves.

Did it include Keepers?

Something about the way the hair lifted on the back of her neck suggested it did.

*

Standing motionless, listening, he kept his flashlight beam trained on the gift shop window. Let them think the useless pieces of pretty debris held his attention. Let them grow complacent and move. Or better yet, let them grow afraid as they waited. Let their muscles tense and their limbs begin to tremble. Let breath catch in their throats and their hearts flutter as they tried to make no sound he would be able to hear.

Let them finally break from cover, unable to stand still any longer.

He would have them then.

Not sneering, not laughing. Hard/soft bodies caught and held.

They had no business being in the mall after closing.

They had no business being so young.

There.

He rocked his weight back on one heel, spun to the left, and whipped the light across the concourse.

*

Diana stifled a gasp as Kris jerked back against her—although whether she was gasping at the sudden increased contact or at the flashlight beam that swept the tiles inches from the toes of Kris’ Doc Martens, she couldn’t say for sure.

shunk kree, shunk kree

You can’t see us…

The old man came closer. The puddle of light spread until Kris was standing with her heels together and her toes splayed almost a hundred and eighty degrees apart. Feeling her begin to totter, Diana slipped an arm around the guard captain’s waist. They were pressed so closely together their hearts began to beat to a single rhythm. Why that rhythm seemed to be reggae when the boots were still banging an old Nancy Sinatra hit on the other side of the window, Diana had no idea.

Then, finally, the light began to move on down the mall; east, the way they had to go. But better to have the ancient nutbar in front of them than behind.

shunk kree, shunk kree

As he passed, his head slowly turned, and he peered into their rectangle of shadow. His eyes narrowed. His grip shifted on the flashlight.

You can’t see us…

And he passed on by.

They listened to his footsteps fade. They took their first breath in unison. Then their second. Then Kris murmured,“He’s gone, Keeper. You got reasons for hanging on that I should know?”

“No.” Because,you feel so good wasn’t really a reason Diana wanted to get into right now. She dropped her arm and tried not to feel bereft as Kris stepped away. “What should we do about the boots?”

“Do?”

“They could come right through the window.”

“It’s summer, there aren’t a lot of them and even if they break the glass, the security cage’ll keep them in.” She reached back and wrapped her hand around Diana’s wrist. “Come on.”

The feel of cool fingers on the skin between sleeve and glove was familiar.

“That was you, Friday night. You held Sam and me in the shadow so we didn’t get caught in the beam when the security guard flashed back the way he’d come.”

“Yeah. That was me. Now do me a favor and never use the wordflash in the same sentence as that scary old dude again.” Her lip curled, showing a crescent of teeth. “Bad image frying the wetware.”

Diana caught the image and shuddered.“Eww.”

“Big time.”

“But how did you…” She looked down at Kris’ hand, still around her wrist, and then up at the other girl’s face. “We weren’t even in the same reality.”

Kris shrugged.“Reality’s what you make it.”

“True enough. You got reasons for hanging on I should know about?”

“No.”

It was a familiar soundingno. Diana grinned as she followed Kris back out onto the concourse.Hey, Sam, I think she likes me.

It wasn’t difficult to imagine Sam’s response.

“And what am I, chopped liver?”

“No, I mean she likesme.”

“So what are you going to do about it?”

Whatwas she going to do about it? And should she even do anything? And when? Actually, that last question was a no brainer.

Not now.

“Remember, stay low, move fast, and try not to look like a person. We’re in the bad guys’ fuckin’ territory.” Kris dropped into a crouch and scuttled across the side corridor, one arm crooked over her head.

She looked exactly like a person in a crouch with her arm over her head, but Diana figured she knew what she was doing, so she folded herself into a mirror image of the position and scuttled after. Shadows spilled out of the far end of the corridor, but they came with no accompanying feeling of being watched—a faint feeling of looking ridiculous but that passed as she reached the storefronts on the opposite side and straightened.

Tucked up tightly against the wall, Kris moved steadily toward the short hallway leading to the security office.

Security office?

Oh, great. What’s wrong with this picture?

Grabbing the back of Kris’ waistband, Diana dragged her to a stop. “What ifhe’s in the security office?” she hissed.

“What if he is? We still gotta go that way. It’s the only safe way to the food court.”

About to ask what definition of“safe” Kris was using, Diana jumped almost into the guard captain’s arms as a thick, purple tentacle slapped the glass beside her. “I didn’t do that!”

“Of course you didn’t.” Thedumbass was silent but clearly implied.“It’s the pet store.”

“Right. And that’s…?”

“Beats the fuck out of me, but it’s not a squid.”

“What happened to the puppies and kittens?”

“I’m guessing it ate them.”

“Of course it did.”

They reached the hall without further incident. Narrow and lit by every third bank of fluorescents in the dropped ceiling, it went back about thirty feet, ending in a cross corridor. Diana could just barely make out two signs on the back wall. The first read: Elevator to Rooftop Parking and included a red arrow pointing left. The second: Baby Change Room; arrow to the right. What the babies changed into was anyone’s guess. The closed door to the security office was about a third of the way up the hall, on the right. That far again was a small water fountain.

Noshunk kree. No advancing armies of darkness.

The only sound was the hum of the lights.

Like it would kill them to learn the words? Diana wondered as Kris began moving faster and she hurried to catch up.

Both walls were covered in crayon portraits that shifted. A great many of them seemed to be of a dark silhouette, horned and cloaked and possessing glowing red eyes. None of them were particularly good.

Although the eyes seem to be following Kris, Diana realized.Are following Kris, she amended as a pair of crimson orbs plopped out of a portrait and rolled almost to the mall elf’s heels. An emphatic poke turned Kris around as a pointing finger directed her gaze to the problem.

Kris rolled her own eyes and took a quick step back.

A sound like bubble wrap being popped.

A bit of waxy residue on the floor.

A quick glance at the rest of the portraits showed them all pointedly looking in different directions. Whatever dark power controlled them, it wasn’t strong enough to overcome basic self-preservation.

Passing the security office, Diana worked at remembering trig formulas and other useless bits of high school math rather than merely trying not to think about the old man opening the door. In this situation, getting caught up in the old“try not to think of a purple hippopotamus” problem could have disastrous results.

At the water fountain, Kris indicated she needed a boost.

Diana dropped to one knee, let Kris use the other as a step, and watched amazed as, standing on the edge of the fountain, she reached up and shoved one of the big ceiling tiles off the framework. Were the elves keeping supplies inside the dropped ceiling?

Kris braced her hands and smoothly boosted herself up and out of sight.

Okay, that’s not poss…Biting the thought off before Kris crashed through acoustic fibers and aluminum strapping that couldn’t possibly hold her weight, Diana sat in the fountain, drew her feet up next to her butt and, pushing against the side walls of the alcove, stood. Apparently, she was supposed to follow.No matter how imposs…She bit that thought off, too, and concentrated instead on doing the mother of all chin ups. Sneaker treads gouging at the wall, she managed to hook first one elbow behind a cross brace and then the other. A little involuntary grunting later, her upper body collapsed across the dusty inner side of the ceiling. Strong hands pulled her farther in and dropped the open tile back into place.

For no good reason, there was enough light to see a path worn through the dust. It headed off to the right on a strong diagonal. Southeast, Diana figured after a moment. Directly toward the food court. They were going to reach the food court by traveling inside a dropped ceiling—something it looked as though the elves did all the time.

Even though it couldn’t be d…

It could be done.

It had been done.

A lot.

Hold that thought, Diana told herself as she crawled after Kris.Don’t even consider thinking about how stu…

Fortunately, crawling after Kris provided its own distraction.

Her knees were raw and the lump on her forehead where she’d cracked it on a pipe was throbbing when the path stopped at the edge of a concrete block wall. Kris motioned for silence. Diana tried to ache more quietly.

Another tile was lifted carefully aside and, after a moment, Kris dropped down out of sight. Her head reappeared almost instantly and then one arm, beckoning Diana forward.

They weren’t in the food court.

They were standing on the sinks in the women’s washroom.

Together, they replaced the tile and one at a time, jumped down.

“This is the way you always go?” Diana asked quietly.

Kris nodded and pulled her bound dreads back with one hand, bending to drink from the taps.“Meat-minds have never caught on,” she said proudly when she finished drinking. “It’s like they can’t wrap their tiny fucking brains around the idea.”

That’s because acoustic tiles and aluminum strapping could barely hold the weight of a full-grown mouse and certainly couldn’t hold a couple of full-grown elves. Or even mostly grown elves. Definitely not an elf and a size twelve Keeper. People, or in this case, elves, who believed that a dropped ceiling provided a secret highway between distant destinations got their information from bad movies and worse television. The meat-minds, who watched neither, knew that no one could travel by way of dropped ceilings. No wonder they couldn’t wrap their tiny brains around the idea.

Believing seven impossible things before breakfast was pretty much standard operating procedure on the Otherside, but even in a place where reality depended on definition, some things were apparently too much.

Diana said none of this aloud. Had no intention of ever mentioning it.

The certainty of the mall elves that itcould be done because they’d seen a hundred heroes and an equal number of villains do it, had created the passage. She had no intention of messing with that certainty. Certainly not while they still needed it to get home.

Only the full toilet paper dispensers in every stall and the lack of graffiti scratched into the pale green paint suggested this wasn’t the actual women’s washroom in the actual mall—another indication of how close the segue was to completion.

Kris opened the door just wide enough for the two of them to slip through. Moving quietly from shadow to shadow, they peered out into the deserted food court.

Diana’s nose twitched at the smell of freshly brewed coffee. She must have made a noise because Kris grinned and murmured, “Starbucks.”

“You mean an Otherside corruption of Starbucks.”

“Is that what I said? I mean an actual Starbucks.”

“Man…” Diana shook her head in reluctant admiration. “Those guys are moving in everywhere.”

*

Claire yawned, rubbed her eyes, and realized that the lights had come back on in the department store. The fire had gone out. She checked her watch; the second hand was revolving at significantly better than normal speed. Time had become relative again. When she glanced up, the fire pit was gone and one of the mall elves, a dark-haired petite girl who looked capable of precision kneecapping, was sweeping up the ashes. Jo, Claire remembered after a moment.

“You done with us, Keeper?”

Daniel was lounging back against the few remaining cushions, one long, denim-clad leg draped over Bounce’s lap. The other boy had his eyes closed, a glistening line of drool running from the corner of his mouth and down the side of his chin. They hadn’t been able to tell her much; only that the food in the food court was a lot less weird than it had been and as the food got morenormal, the meat-minds patrolled more frequently.

“And at certain times of the day, there’s like a bazillion old people hanging around.”

“Are they eating?”

“Listen, much?” Daniel had snorted.“I said they were hanging around. Kind of dropped down from the ceiling like big old wrinkly spiders.”

“Are they dangerous?”

“Nah, just a big fat pain to get around.”

“Keeper?”

“Thanks, guys. I’m done.” A little sleep would be nice, Claire thought as she watched Daniel rouse his friend and the two of them disappeared into the depths of the store, but she couldn’t risk it. The first year she was on active duty, a Keeper had fallen asleep on the Otherside; fallen asleep and dreamed. He’d woken up at his old high school…naked. Fixing the resultant fallout had definitely been one for the history books. Chapter seven. Right after the Riel Rebellion. Some nice black-and-white pictures, too. They’d pulled all the copies from circulation, but Claire knew a couple members of the Lineage who’d kept personal copies, allegedly for research purposes.

Arthur touched her lightly on the shoulder as someone carried away his chair.“I must attend to the business of the realm. If you require me…”

“I should be guarding you.” Claire stood and smoothed down her skirt. “They could send an assassin.” It would cost them a lot, single travelers always paid a premium, but she didn’t doubt for a moment that if they could pay, the darkside wouldn’t hesitate. Kill Arthur; destroy the united defiance raised against them.

“They would kill the Immortal King?”

“Don’t get too attached to the label,” she told him acerbically. “Just because you never stay dead doesn’t change the fact that you die and kingdoms fall every time you’re removed from the equation.”

“I have doubled the guards on all points leading to this level and I will be careful. But if you have nothing better to do than to act as my nursemaid…” He bowed slightly, hair falling into his face and swept up as he straightened. “…then I will be honored by your company. Although I had thought you wanted to take a look outside.”

“I do.”

He smiled and waited. He had a way of waiting that reminded her of Austin.

“All right, I’ll go have a look out the nearest doors, but I want you surrounded at all times by your best.”

“My very best went with your sister.”

“Fine, your second best, then, until I get back. I’ll be as quick as I can. Sam, you coming?”

“Nope. Not even breathing hard.”

Claire stopped, and the orange cat bumped into the back of her calves.“What?”

“It’s just something Diana says.”

“Why am I not surprised?”

“If you actually want me to answer that, I’m going to need more information,” Sam pointed out as they began walking again.

The key locking the optical shop not only continued to hold but couldn’t be moved. Claire pushed against it with one finger, then with her entire hand, then sat back on her heels with a satisfied nod.

“So, what’s it worth to you to have menot tell Diana you were checking up on her work?”

She turned her head just enough to spear the orange cat with a disdainful gaze.“What’s it worth to you for menot to tell Diana you tried to blackmail me?”

Amber eyes blinked.“You’re assuming she’d care?”

“Good point.”

On the‘better safe than sorry’ principle, she locked the rest of the stores along the short corridor. Once they defeated the darkside, she’d unlock them and give the elves access to the entire mall but, for now, the last thing they needed was a horde of meat-minds charging out from behind a rack ofcheap silver accessories.

The doors at the end of the corridor—the doors they entered the mall through way back whenever—were unlocked. Claire wasn’t sure why. They could have been open because it was now business hours in the real mall or they could have been open because she wanted them to be. She had to be more careful about her desires before they set up a beacon the darkside could use to…to…she honestly couldn’t say what the darkside would do, but it went without saying that it wouldn’t be good.

“Sam, you wait in here.”

“Why?”

“Because going through a door on the Otherside can be dangerous; you don’t always end up on the other side of the door and I don’t want to explain to Diana that I lost her cat.”

“Her cat?” Sam snorted. “I am a free agent in the universe.”

“Not until you can open your own cans of cat food, you aren’t.” Without waiting for a reply, she pressed down on the bar latch, and pushed. Her mind carefully blank, she stepped over the threshold. And then again—press, push, blank, step—for the outside door.

She was still on the Otherside. A half turn. She was outside the copy of the mall. All things considered, it wasn’t a bad copy. Some of the edges in the middle where neither the elves nor the darkside held complete control were a little fuzzy, but, even so, it would pass.

The concrete pad was exactly as she remembered it: black metal bench, newspaper box. The headline GFDHK SCGH TPR! was different—most newspapers used at least a couple of vowels—but the hockey scores seemed current. That probably wasn’t relevant. Or no more relevant than the appalling reality of hockey in June. The only things missing were Dean and Austin and they were safe in the guest house.

She didn’t remember it smelling so bad.

Although the edges of the parking lot faded into mist—intent on their segue, the darkside hadn’t bothered to anchor the mall on the Otherside—the lot itself was glossy black, the yellow lines gleaming. And steaming. And bubbling. Claire jumped back as an ebony bubble swelled to iridescence then burst almost at the edge of the concrete. The parking lot was a veryvery large tar pit. She had no idea how the yellow lines stayed in place, but at least that explained the smell.

On the bright side, there’d be no attacks coming in through this door.

As she turned, she noticed something she’d missed before. A sign and a ramp. There was parking on the roof.

Frowning, she remembered there were skylights over the hexagonal cuts through the floor. Designed to send light down into the lower level, Claire had a sudden image of dangling…

Not ninjas. Think old people, dangling old people. Images that were already real.

Trouble was, she remembered looking up and seeing handrails around the skylight.

There had to be a way up to the parking on the roof.

Where?

*

“Greetings, I am Professor Jack Daniels…”

Far too polite to say what he really thought, Dean peered across the desk at the balding man in the tweed jacket and said,“I’m sorry?”

“Jack Daniels…”

“Is a kind of whiskey.”

“Oh.” He sighed, looked down at his hands, and up again. “Bad choice?”

“Not a good one,” Dean allowed. “Besides, you gave me your real name when you called.” He spun the registration book around and pointed. “Dr. Hiram Rebik.”

“Right.” Another glance down at his hands. “I’m uh…I mean, just so you know, I’m not a medical doctor. I have a doctorate in archaeology.”

“Yeah? I’ve seenRaiders of the Lost Ark more than twenty times.”

“Have you?”

“Maybe thirty even, it’s some good. I’m Dean McIssac.”

A small self-conscious smile.“Pleased to meet you.”

“You wanted a room for you and your mummy.”

“Yes.”

“I’ve had the dehumidifier running in room two all day.”

“Thank you.”

“Did you want help carrying him…or her,” Dean corrected hurriedly, “inside?”

“No, thank you. I’m parked in the back. I assume there’s a back door?”

“Yes, of course.” Coming out from behind the counter, he indicated that Dr. Rebik should follow, and led the way down the hall.

“You have an elevator,” Dr. Rebik observed as they passed. “Late Victorian?”

“Sometimes.” Slipping back the deadbolt, Dean opened the door out into the narrow passageway that separated the guest house from the building to the north. “I hope there’s enough room.”

“Plenty.”

As Dr. Rebik hurried out to the parking lot, Austin appeared to wind around Dean’s feet. “I wonder why he wanted to use the back door.”

“Well, it’s a mummy. There’s got to be, you know, a sarcophagus or something.”

“You think that skinny little guy could carry a sarcophagus on his own?”

“No.”

“Then…?”

Dean shrugged.“You’re the expert, you tell me.”

Two sets of footsteps approached down the passage; one slow and steady, the other shuffling along, feet never leaving the ground.

“Okay, that’s…weird.”

“I’m just guessing here,” Austin muttered, backing up to cover both possible lines of escape, “but I think the phrase you’re looking for is: Oh, my God! The mummy! It’s alive! Alive being a relative term,” the cat added thoughtfully.

“You’re not helping.”

“Oh. Was I supposed to be?”

Before Dean could answer, Dr. Rebik appeared in the doorway carefully supporting a slender figure wearing a floor-length, hooded cloak.Where would you buy something like that, then? he wondered stepping out of the way.

“Mr. McIssac, this is Meryat. She was Chief Wife to Rekhmire, Grand Vizier to Ramses the Great.”

“Ma’am.”

“Meryat…”

And that was the only word Dean recognized. Made sense; why would an ancient Egyptian speak modern English? On the other hand, why would a modern archaeologist speak ancient Egyptian? Still, that was a moot point given that there was a mummy shuffling toward the dining room. Was she hungry? What would he feed a reanimated corpse?

“Uh, Dr. Rebik, just so we’re clear, the guest house has a few rules. No bloodsucking, no soul sucking, no dark magic in the room, anything that detaches while you’re here leaves with you…” They’d added that one after a trio of zombie folk musicians had left part of the base player in the bathtub. “…and all long distance calls must be either collect or on your calling card. We’ve been stuck with the bill a few times,” he expanded when Dr. Rebik looked confused. “As long as you’re in the dining room, will you be wanting anything to eat, then?”

“Nothing for me, thank you, Mr. McIssac. Meryat…” Again a soft string of words in a foreign tongue.

This time, there was an answer.

Meryat’s voice was husky—a whiskey voice, his grandfather would have called it—and a small hand wrapped in strips of yellowing linen emerged from the depths of the cloak to close gently over Dr. Rebik’s. He held it as though it might break—which for all Dean knew, it might—and smiled into theshadows of the hood.

“Meryat thanks you for your consideration, Mr. McIssac, but she only wants to rest a moment before she attempts a flight of stairs. She’s not very strong yet.”

“Okay. Sure. Uh, when you said mummy on the phone, I was assuming it…”

The hood turned toward Dean.

“Sorry….she’d have her own place to sleep. Our rooms only have one bed.”

“That’s fine.” Another smile into the shadows. They were definitely holding hands.

It was kind of sweet. Creepy, but sweet.

SEVEN

[Êàðòèíêà: img_4]

DEAN LIFTED AUSTIN’S CHIN out of his eye socket, and sat up in bed scrubbing at the cooling cat drool running down beside his nose. Something…

Pounding. Distant pounding. At the front door.

Groping for his glasses, he pushed the arms more or less over his ears and peered down at the clock. Six twelvea.m. Almost a full hour before the alarm.

More pounding.

“Why don’t you just ignore it?” Austin grumbled from the pillow. “Make them come back later.”

Wishing he could curl up and wraphis tail overhis nose, Dean swung bare feet out onto the floor.“That would be rude.” His jeans were folded neatly over the back of an old wooden chair. He stared at them stupidly for a moment, then shook them out and raised his right foot. “Besides, it could be important.”

More pounding.

About to shimmy the faded denim up over his hips, his brain finally caught up to his body.

“It could be Claire!”

“Don’t be ridiculous, she has a key,” Austin reminded him as he tucked in and zipped up just a little too fast to be safe.

“Then it could be someone with news from Claire!” More pounding as he ran from the bedroom and across the living room, exploding out into the office. Hoping the scream of hinges hadn’t woken up either of their guests—Claire referred to them as eldritch hinges; multiple cans of WD-40 had no effect—he threw himself to his knees and slid under the drop leaf at the end of the counter, a black-and-white blur barely seen in the corner of one eye. By the time he reached the door, Austin was there waiting for him.

“I thought I was being ridiculous?” he panted, fumbling with the lock.

“If it’s news about Claire, you’ll need me to be here.”

“Why?”

Austin snorted.“Because I’m the cat.”

“The cat?” Twist back the deadbolt.

“The only one talking to you.”

He wrapped his hand around the doorknob, turned, and yanked.

The man standing on the porch was a little shorter than Dean’s six feet. His hair and eyebrows had been sun-bleached to the color of straw. Sunburn lent a painful-looking ruddiness to his complexion, and the end of his nose was peeling. Bulky muscle making him appear stocky, he wore a tan short-sleeved shirt with the top three buttons undone, matching shorts—with all buttons safely fastened—and hiking boots. A number of leather pouches hung from his broad leather belt and both his arms were covered in an interesting patchwork of scars.

“All right, where is it?”

Not Australian in spite of appearances; the accent was Canadian heartland.

“Where is what, then?”

“The mummy!” His pause carried the expectation of a musical emphasis, as though his life came with its own soundtrack that only he could hear. “I know it’s here,” he continued when Dean didn’t immediately respond. “I tracked Dr. Rebik’s car to your parking lot!”

That didn’t sound good. Unwilling to give the benefit of the doubt to someone who banged on doors at six in the morning, Dean barely covered a yawn and decided to play dumb. “Why?”

“Because I’m hunting the mummy!”

“Why?” Maybe if he kept repeating himself, he’d get an answer.

“It’s a mummy!”

Okay. New track.“So what’s Dr. Rebik’s mother done to you, then?”

“Not mother. Mummy!” Veins bulging on his neck, mouth open to continue his protest, he paused and glanced down. “Is that cat laughing?”

Dean shoved Austin with the side of one bare foot.“Hairball.”

“Right. Look, my name’s Lance Benedict…”

This time both men looked down.

“Reallybig hairball.” Dean shot Austin a warning frown.

“Right.” Lance’s broad smile showed perfect teeth. “Anyway, I realize this must all seem extraordinary to you, an ordinary kind of a guy, living an ordinary kind of life…”

Dean bent down and turned Austin around to face the kitchen.“You should be having a drink of water to take care of that hairball.” One hand against the cat’s back legs, he shoved. If looks could maim, he’d have collapsed bleeding on the hardwood.

The angle of his tail promising later retribution, Austin stalked off down the hall.

When Dean straightened, Lance sighed.“Everything will make perfect sense the moment I explain it!”

Sighing and exclaiming simultaneouslywas quite the trick, Dean had to admit.

“Evil is afoot!”

“It’s not in Dr. Rebik’s car, then?”

“Not on foot! Afoot!” Another, more dramatic sigh. “Can I come in? Your neighbors must not discover the darkness that hides in the forgotten corners of their little worlds!”

Curtains twitched in a second-floor window across the street and Dean realized he was standing in the doorway wearing only his jeans and his glasses. Professor Marnara had been slipping salacious haiku in the mailbox for a couple of months now and she really didn’t need more inspiration. “Yeah. Sure. Come in.” He stepped back and closed the door firmly behind the mummy hunter. “All right, then, explain.”

“You’re Irish, aren’t you? I can tell from your accent; it’s a skill I have! County Cork, by way of Dublin.”

“Newfoundland. Harbor Street, St. John’s, by way of Herring Neck.”

“Right. Sixteenth-century Irish derivative. Corrupted, of course.”

Dean’s lip curled. Good manners only extended so far. “The explanation?”

“Right.” Lance leaned forward and lowered his voice. “Dr. Rebik has been vilely kidnapped by a woman who died almost five thousand years ago! Late one night in his lab, the unfortunate doctor broke the spell confining her wretched, evil form to her sarcophagus. She rose and took over his mind, feeding off his life force to reduce the gruesome effects of centuries of decay. When I discovered what she’d done, I fought valiantly to stop her, but her control over Dr. Rebik was so strong he attacked me and left me for dead!”

“And you got messed up in this because…?”

“Because I’m Dr. Rebik’s grad student and I intend to save him! I am quite possibly the only person now alive who knows how to stop the foul fiend!” His hands curled into fists as he rocked forward on the balls of his feet. “Just tell me what room that pustulant monstrosity is in!”

“Meryat?”

“That’s her!”

Mummies. Doctors. Grad students. Dean weighed what he knew and came to a decision.“Third floor. Room six. You should take the elevator, it’ll be faster.” He led Lance to the brass gates, folded them open, and waved the other man inside. “Just pull that lever over to the three. I’ll wait in the lobby in case she makes a run for the front door.”

“Good man!” Legs braced, back straight, Lance yanked the lever toward him. The elevator began to rise.

“Was that nice?” Austin asked as the dial showed the elevator just passing the second floor.

Dean shrugged.“Before he left, Augustus Smythe fixed it so that the third floor always opens to the beach. We haven’t seen a giant not-quite-squid in months and the fire sand is all posted. There’s food and water in the cabana. Lance’ll do some exploring, he’ll get a bit more sunburn, maybe he’ll go swimming. He’s safer there than back out on the street.”

“So itwas nice.” Austin looked disgusted. “Just when I think you’re acquiring a personality that doesn’t involve cleaning products, Claire, or hockey. I suppose I should be moderately encouraged that you actually lied to the man.”

“And I should be concerned that you’re having a worse influence on me than Hell ever did.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere, but don’t stop.” He ran to catch up as Dean started back down the hall. “What are you going to do now?”

“Put a shirt on and wake Dr. Rebik. I’m after hearing his side of the story.”

*

Lance stood ankle-deep in white sand, staring at the brilliant blue sky, and the turquoise breakers. A breeze off the distant dunes caressed his cheek with the scent of warmed sweet grass. This had to be another one of the mummy’s evil spells—a way to turn this world into the ancient world she’d lost. Which hadn’t included an ocean or a sign that readPlease return your towels to the guest house, but that had to be only because she wasn’t yet at full strength.

He still had time to stop her.

But first, he had to find Dr. Rebik. Or what was left of the man.

He pulled his cell phone from its belt pouch and punched in Dr. Rebik’s number. His mentor hadn’t answered any of his previous calls, but there was always the chance that the resurrected she-demon had left her captive alone for a moment or that—as he was now so close—he’d hear the ringing of the doctor’s phone.

“We’re sorry; this number can not be completed as dialed. You must dial bleri or syk before the number. Please hang up and try again.”

Bleri or syk? Brows drawn in to meet over his nose, Lance stared down at the keypad. His phone didn’t come with a bleri or syk. Damn! It was the whole pizza number debacle all over again. No bleri, no syk, no eleven…he should never have been seduced by that “Friday the Thirteenth Free” calling plan.

No matter.

Tucking the phone back into its pouch, he pulled a bandanna from another and tied it around his neck. Although Dr. Rebik could be anywhere in this mystical world of dark magic, the cheery looking blue-and-white cabana perched just above the high tide mark seemed the logical place to start.

*

“Lance is…”

Meryat offered two words from within the shadows of her hood.

“No, he’s not an idiot.” Dr. Rebik smiled and stroked the back of her hand with one finger. “He’s just under the impression that archaeology should be an adventure, like it is in the movies and on television. Mystic relics. Cursed idols. Dark magics. The return of ancient gods, wrathful and virtually omnipotent. He has a problem differentiating between fact and fiction.”

“And yet…” Dean set a mug of coffee in front of the doctor and dropped into a chair across from him, cradling his own mug with both hands. “…youare traveling with a resurrected mummy there.”

“Yes, well, there’s always an exception that proves the rule.”

“He said you broke the seal keeping Meryat in her sarcophagus.”

“I did. Good coffee. Blue Mountain?”

“Organic Mexican.”

“Ah.” Another swallow and a happy sigh. His face puffy and deep purple bags under both eyes, the archaeologist looked as thrilled to be up at six thirty as Dean felt. “My Meryat was once the wife of Rekhmire, Grand Vizier to Ramses the Great.One of Ramses’ Grand Viziers at any rate. He had four that we know of during the many years of his rule. She used to give the most magnificent parties—we’ve found records of them in a number of writings of that era—and at one of them she inadvertently insulted a High Priest by…”

Another word from within the hood.

Dr. Rebik cleared his throat, his ears red.“Yes. Well, there’s no need to go into the specifics. The point is, the priest was insulted and, in a fit of pique, had her poisoned. Then he cursed her ka so that Anubis could not find it, confining it and her to the sarcophagus until a string of peculiar conditions were met that allowed the lock to be opened and Meryat to rise again.”

“Peculiar conditions?”

“Learned man. Eyes the color of rotting reeds. That sort of thing.”

“A learned man with greenish-brown eyes doesn’t seem that peculiar.”

“Three nipples…”

“Ah.” Cheeks burning, Dean paid a great deal of attention to his next swallow of coffee. “Lance says Meryat took over your mind.”

The doctor smiled into the shadows as desiccated fingers with blackened tips closed around his hand.“Meryat took over my heart. How could I not love a woman who’d suffered so bravely for so long? I know what you’re thinking, she’s not at her best physically, but every day she’s in the world she gains back a little more of her beauty.”

“She’s not sucking the energy out of people, is she?”

“People give off energy merely by existing. She absorbs that.”

“Lance said that when you left the lab, you left him for dead.”

That drew his attention back to Dean.“I pushed him into a supply closet,” he explained dryly, “and locked the door. Lance tends to exaggerate.”

“Yeah.” Dean decided he’d best keep both the foul fiend and pustulant monster comments to himself. “Does he exclaim everything he says, then?”

“Almost everything, yes. I’m amazed you managed to send him away. He’s remarkably tenacious.”

“I didn’t so much send him away as send him on a wild goose chase. He still thinks he’s after you.”

“I’m glad he isn’t. Well done and thank you.” As Dr. Rebik drained his mug, Meryat asked a question, her words running together like liquid and music combined. “Meryat wonders ifyou wonder how we found this place. This sanctuary.”

Dean shrugged, trying to look as though having the guest house called a sanctuary didn’t please him as much as it did. “You’d be amazed at the people who find this place.”

“In our case, it came about when Meryat’s ka managed to gain a small amount of freedom even before I opened the sarcophagus. Still trapped, it couldn’t touch the real world, but it could touch what she calls the possibilities. They told her of the Keepers and specifically of the Keeper who works from this inn. We were hoping you’d help us. Until she fully regains her physical form, Meryat is helpless and prey to every media influenced, addle-pated adventurer we meet.”

“Meet a lot?”

“You’d be surprised.”

Dean considered the hole to Hell that had once heated the guest house.“Not really, no.”

“So will you?”

“Will I what?”

“Help us.”

“Me? I’m not the Keeper.”

Meryat’s hand which had been reaching toward him, exposing more of a wrapped arm than he really wanted to see, withdrew.

“You’re not?”

“No. The Keeper’s my, uh, girlfriend and she’s away on business right now. But I’m expecting her back any time,” he added as Dr. Rebik’s face fell and Meryat’s hooded head sagged forward. “The room’s available as long as you need it.”

“So we’ll wait.”

Meryat asked another question.

“No, my love, I can’t think of a place we’d be safer. And now, if you don’t mind, Meryat needs to lie down. As yet she can manage only an hour or two on her feet a day.”

Dean stood as they did and managed to keep from flinching when Meryat’s fingertips touched the bare skin of his forearm for an instant as they passed. He took a long, comforting swallow of coffee and when he heard the door close on the second floor, said, “You were some quiet.”

Austin, who’d been lying on the windowsill, lifted his head from his front paws. “Something Dr. Rebik said isn’t right.”

“Yeah, three nipples. That’s justwrong.”

“Hey, I’ve got six!”

“My point exactly; nipples should come in even numbers.”

Austin shot him a suspicious look but let it go.“Something else…”

“Last night he had to translate for her; this morning, she understood what we were saying.”

The emerald eye blinked once in surprise.“You’re not as dumb as you look. But that wasn’t it.”

“You think Dr. Rebik was lying?” Dean asked as he gathered up the doctor’s empty mug and headed for the dishwasher.

“No, but I think there’s stuff he’s not telling us.”

“He said he’s sparing Meryat’s feelings. You can’t blame him for that.”

“Why not?” Austin’s tail carved a series of short jerky arcs through the air. “I wish Claire was here.”

“Me, too.”

*

“Elderly ninja assassins?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Well, you kind of implied it.”

“Sam…”

His ears bridled as he leaped to the top of Bozo’s School Bus and turned to glare. “You did. You said there were handrails around the skylights and, if the way to the roof was in the wrong area, we could expect an attempt on Arthur’s life. Then you said,‘but not ninjas’ and you’ve been mumbling about dangling old people ever since. So: elderly ninja assassins.”

“Okay, you win.” Claire scooped him off the ride and continued out into the main concourse with him tucked indignantly under one arm. “Just stop repeating it so I can stop thinking about it!”

“It’s not the worst thing you could be thinking about,” Sam muttered. “I mean if anything’s got to drop down from the roof, el…” He squeaked as she tightened her grip. “…that would at least be easy to beat. Right?”

“Wrong. The Otherside deals with subconscious imagery, it takes what you think you’re thinking about and warps it.”

“So if I was thinking about a nice, juicy, unattended salmon?”

“Nothing would happen. When I say it takes what you’re thinking, I don’t mean you specifically. Cats live in the now, there’s nothing in your thoughts the Otherside can use.”

“Fine. Ifyou thought about a nice, juicy salmon?”

“We’d probably get grizzlies.”

Back feet braced against her hip, he squirmed around until he could stare up at her.“You’re kidding?”

“Or a rain of frozen peas. Maybe even big, green, frozen grizzlies.”

“Why would the Otherside want anything to do with what’s in your head?” he demanded as Claire set him down. “Things aren’t weird enough around here without your two cents’ worth?”

“Apparently not.”

“Hey, what if you thought about big, green, frozen grizzlies?”

“You wouldn’t get salmon.” She stroked a hand down his back. “Wait here.” Kith and Teemo glanced around as she approached the barricade and then returned to staring down the stairs into the lower level. As far as Claire could tell, it looked like the lower level of the West Gardner’s Mall. No eldritch mists. No skulking shadows. No shambling hulks of darkside muscle.

Nothing out of the ordinary.

That wasn’t good.

“Any sign of Diana and Kris?”

“Nada.” Teemo scratched in through the ripped armpit of his now sleeveless Spider-man T-shirt—looking less like the semimythical creature he was becoming and more like the fifteen-year-old he’d been. “There was some crap-ass music playing, but it stopped a while ago. Don’t worry about your blood, Keeper, Kris’ll keep her safe. She’s one sneaky bi…Ow!” He shot a pained glance over his shoulder at Kith. “I wasn’t gonna say bitch!” he protested. “I was gonna say…uh…”

Kith raised a remarkably sardonic eyebrow.

“Never mind what I was gonna say. I wasn’t talkin’ to you nohow.” He turned his back on the other elf with such exaggerated indignation, he reminded Claire of Austin. “Kris’ll keep your sister safe,” he repeated. “Arthur already said that if we see any shit happening, we should let you know.”

“Thank you.” She didn’t recognize the elf on guard at the hexagonal opening until she got close enough to see the features under the lime-green hair. “Daniel?”

“Hey, Keeper.”

She’d only walked down to the end of the small corridor, been outside for a minute, two at the most. Three on the absolute outside. How had he had time to…? “What did you do to your hair?”

He pulled a strand forward, looked at it, looked at her like she was asking a trick question.“Uh, dyed it. Wicked look, right?”

The second hand on her watch zipped around from the eight to the two, then slowed.

She hated time distortions.

“Right. It’s very…green.” Andnot something she was responsible for.“Listen, I was wondering, do you know where the access to the roof is?”

“The roof?”

Claire leaned back and pointed up.“There’s got to be an access. There’s parking and there’s handrails.”

“Okay.” Daniel squinted into the gray light currently substituting for actual sky. “I never seen any stairs, but there’s an elevator down by the security office. I seen the sign on food court runs.”

“Where’s the security office?”

Leaning over the Lucite barrier, he pointed down the left side of the lower level.“It’s not too far past the bottom of the stairs ’cept you go along the other hall.”

“It’s on the darkside?”

“Arthur says it’s sort of territory we both claim, but yeah.”

“Do you know if it works?”

“The security office?”

“The elevator.”

“No friggin’ idea, Keeper.”

“Okay…” This was very bad. “They could come through the skylight. You’ll have to watch up as well as down.”

“Through the skylight?” Daniel repeated, glancing up again.

“Yes.”

“That kinda sucks.”

“Yes. It does.” Pivoting on one heel, Claire headed for the department store and nearly tripped over Sam.

“I’ve been thinking.”

“Good. Think and walk; I have to warn Arthur.”

“That’s what I’ve been thinking about. Assassinating the Immortal King makes sense—cut the head off the snake and the snake dies.”

“What do snakes have to do with anything?”

“Sorry, angel leftover. We…they…use snake analogies a lot. You know,up there. Occupational hazard.” He jumped up onto the edge of a planter and hooked all five claws on one front paw into Claire’s skirt, dragging her to a halt. “If I was the darkside, and if this whole segue thing meant enough to me, I’d drop an assassin in during the battle when no one would notice. If the dark elf wins, the assassin helps the meat-minds pick off the mall elves. If the dark elf loses, then it finds a place to lay low until it gets its chance. Bada bing, bada boom.”

She pulled her skirt free.“Another leftover angel thing?”

“No, I’ve been watchingThe Sopranos with your dad. Look, it makes sense for the darkside to kill Arthur, but it doesn’t make any sense for them to drop an assassin in now after the battle when all the elves are on full alert.”

Claire looked back at Teemo and Kith on the barricade. At Daniel. Were there more shadows on the upper concourse than there had been?

It was definitely too quiet.

“You’re right,” she said. And started to run.

Sam jumped down and raced after her.“At the risk of sounding last millennia; duh.”

*

Sunlight streamed down through the skylight into the food court, bright enough to wash away the light spilling from the bulbs over each table. Bright enough to wash away the shadows.

Kris frowned.“There’s never been sunlight before.”

“It’s probably coming through from the real world. This end of the mall’s almost totally matched up. We haven’t got much time.”

“Is this the sort of stuff you and your sister need to know?”

“No. This is the sort of stuff we pretty much already knew. We have to go deeper in. We need to seewho more than what.” Diana dunked her face into a filled sink, trying to rinse away the soap she’d used to remove the lipstick camouflage.Man, that stuff could remove freckles! When she surfaced, Kris was waiting with a paper towel.“Thanks.” The towel was only marginally less destructive than the soap, and they were both an exact match for supplies in women’s washrooms worldwide. Diana made a mental note to check the supplier when they got home. This could be a foothold situation that the Lineage had missed for years. And the toilet paper was definitely Hellish.

“So,” Kris grunted, leaning against a stall and watching Diana in the mirror, “what now?”

“Now, unless we open the door and there’s a power-of-darkness coffee klatch happening close enough for us to eavesdrop on, we need to get to the Emporium. It’s as close to the anchor as we’ve ever come.” She tossed the damp paper in the wastebasket and turned to face a skeptical mall elf.

“It’s where you two came through. They’ll be guarding it.”

“You’ve taken me as far as we agreed. You don’t have to go on.”

“Like I’m supposed to go back to the other wizard and tell her I ditched her kid sister just when things got tough? Fuck you.”

“Okay. I mean, you’re right,” Diana corrected herself hurriedly, hoping the flush she could feel would be taken as the result of strenuous exfoliation. “Then if it’s just meat-minds on guard, we’ll go around them. If it’s something else, thenthat could tell us what I need to know. I wish I’d been able to get a look under that dark elf’s helm.”

“Before you slagged him?”

“Not much point after.” She glanced toward the washroom door. “There’s not going to be a lot of cover out there.”

“No shit. You’d think they’d leave all that sunshine for the end. Doesn’t evil usually prefer darkness and all?”

“Common mistake. Evil doesn’t care. The thing you’ve got to remember about evil,” she murmured, falling into step just behind the other girl’s left shoulder as they headed for the door, “is that it’s an unapologetic opportunist. It’ll move in wherever there’s an opening.”

The smell of fresh coffee wafted up the short hall.

The black clothes made them stand out against the pale green tiles like…

…like licorice in mints, like cow patties in the grass, like Goths in a flower shop, like the wipeout from the wand caused permanent brain damage. What’s up with Analogies R Us?

Diana forced herself to pay attention just as Kris said,“I don’t see anyone…anything. Let’s go.”

They turned left, away from the food court, staying close to the lockers and then ducking low to cross the open front of the sporting goods store. Diana thought she saw a rack of torture implements as they passed—which was actually encouraging because she was fairly certain such stores didn’t usually stock thumb screws in with their free weights in the real world.Although it certainly explained that whole no pain, no gain thing. Vaguely human shapes moved around in the big drugstore across the hall and she could only hope they were part of a darkside patrol. Customers, even faint images of customers, would be bad. Not that a darkside patrol would be exactly good….

Kris’ grip on her arm dragged her attention back to their more immediate concern—the length of corridor they had to cover unseen in order to get to the Emporium. The two planters and four benches provided the only cover. But, on the bright side, the corridor was empty except for those two planters and four benches.

Nothing ventured…Diana shrugged free, dashed forward, dropped as she passed the first planter, slid the last five feet to the bench, and rolled under it at the last instant.

“What do you think you’re doing,” Kris growled into her ear a moment later.

Diana turned and tried not to think about the confined conditions pressing them cheek to cheek.“I was thinking that the Emporium wasn’t going to get any closer and the longer we waited the more risk of someone coming through the food court and spotting us.” So not the time to say something like“You smell incredible.”

“Next time, warn a person!”

“I thought you might protest…”

“Yeah. Good call.”

“…and we didn’t have time.”

The lights were off in the travel agency and a handwritten sign taped to the cracked window said only,“Closed for Renovations.” A poster advertising London at $549, Berlin at $629, and Gehenna at $666 was the only other visible indication that the store had ever been used. Either she’d really done some serious damage when she smacked the travelers back or they were too close to segue for any more tours to be booked. The Tailer of Gloucester still had bits off animal butts hanging in the window, so hopefully it was the former not the later.

Hopefully andanimal bits; not the sort of things that usually showed up in the same thought.

“Next bench,” she murmured against Kris’ skin. “You’ve got to go first.”

Kris’ reply was essentially unintelligible although the sarcasm came through loud and clear. Out from under the bench, she pushed herself up into a sprinter’s start, and disappeared from Diana’s line of sight.

Diana followed half a heartbeat behind, put a little too much push on the final slide, and would have gone right past the bench had strong hands not grabbed a double handful of clothes and yanked her sideways. Her face impacted at the join of shoulder and neck, her nose connecting painfully with Kris’ collarbone.

“Is this the place?”

Blinking away tears, she lifted her head as far as the bench allowed. In the short time since they’d crossed over, the Emporium had come to look almost identical to the store in the original mall. “This is it.”

The corridor was still empty. But then, why wouldn’t it be? Why would the darkness bother running patrols this deep inside their own territory? They were a lot safer here than they’d been out in the lower concourse.

“I’m going to take a closer look.”

“We’re going inside?”

“We have to. We haven’t actually learned anything yet.”

“I’ve learned that you got no sense of self-preservation. I’m not going in there.”

“Good. You keep watch.” She was out from under the bench on her hands and knees before Kris could stop her, then quickly crawled across to the window for a careful glance inside. The window display was pretty much as she remembered it and so was the stock beyond. In the back corner…She shuffled forward just far enough to get a better angle. In spite of other changes, the mirror remained the Otherside edition, thick silvered glass in an antique wooden frame. She couldn’t see any indication of Jack but figured he was probably watching the other store.

Dropping back below the window ledge, Diana crawled to the edge of the open door and, lying down, peered around the corner. No troll. Not even the shadowy suggestion of customers. Better still, no wards keeping people from entering—although the exit wards were still in place and would need to be dealt with later.

She flashed a quick thumbs-up back at Kris—who didnot look happy—and slipped over the threshold into the store. The fairies on a stick had been marked down and the frogs in military uniforms had been joined by newts in science fiction costumes.

Who buys this stuff? she wondered crawling toward the back. The newts were a little weirder than even she could cope with. Skirting the rubber snakes, she sat back on her heels and peered up at the mirror.“Pssst, Jack!”

The blue-on-blue eyes appeared almost instantly.“Where the hell have you been?”

“At the other end of the mall.”

“Doing what?”

“Getting caught in time distortions and fighting off a pack of traveling meat-minds. It’s not like I forgot you or anything; this is the first time I’ve been able to get back.”

“They know you’re here.”

“Here, here? Like here and now? Or just in the mall here?”

Faint blue frown lines appeared as he worked that out.“In the mall.”

“Well, gee, that alarm we set off probably had something to do with that.”

“You th…Who’s that?”

Diana jumped as Kris’ hand came down on her shoulder. “You’re talking to a mirror?”

“You’re turning into an elf?”

“Yeah. Okay. Fine. Your point.”

“I thought you weren’t coming in?”

“You were taking too long.”

“Hey!”

Both girls looked up.

“You want to save that? This is not a place you should be hanging around.”

Diana nodded.“You’re right. We’ve got to go farther in.”

Jack’s eyes widened. “Are you nuts?”

“Exactly what I keep asking,” Kris muttered. “But she’s not answering me.”

“Look, both of you, we’re on a scouting mission, trying to find out who or what we’re dealing with darksidewise, and so far, we have found out nothing. There’s nobody around. Nobody lurking. Nobody skulking. Nada. I keep going until I get a look at something. No farther…” She raised herhands as both Jack and Kris began to protest. “…so I don’t cut off my escape route. Unless…” Locking eyes with Jack. “…you’ve got new information for me.”

“About who’s behind this?”

“Well, yeah.”

“No. He’s never come out this far, but I have heard a compelling kind of voice coming out of the storeroom, so he could have been there.”

“A compelling kind of voice?” Diana repeated. “What does that mean?”

“A voice that compels. A voice belonging to the kind of guy who could put all this…” His eyes rolled around the mirror. “…in motion.”

“If notthe big cheese; one of?”

“That’d be my guess.”

“Okay, I’ll check the storeroom for residual energy.”

“Be careful. If you access the possibilities, they’ll know exactly where you are.”

“Really?” She frowned at the mirror. “I never would have remembered something so crucial to my own survival.”

“Well, excuse me for being concerned.”

“Sorry. It’s a polarity thing. They’re bad, I’m good. Opposites attract. Good can, therefore, track evil, no accessing of the possibilities necessary.” Turning to Kris she nodded at the storeroom door. “You coming with?”

“Not so fast.” The mall elf held up a cautioning hand. “Good can track evil?”

“Yeah.”

“Then evil can track good. Can track you.”

“Only if they know I’ve been there. But unless they walk inwhile I’m there, why would they know that?”

“You make it sound so easy,” Kris snorted. “And we both know it isn’t.”

“Well, yeah. But why make it harder than it has to be? You don’t have to come…”

“Right. Again with the ditching as things get tough; not going to happen.”

“Good.”

“Yeah, good.”

Still on her hands and knees, Diana headed for the storeroom, not entirely certain if anything had actually been resolved.

The storeroom seemed empty of anything relevant although it was difficult to tell with all the basilisk sculpture stacked along the walls. She walked to one end then zigzagged her way back. Nothing. No sign of major evil. No minor evil. Not even a hint of metaphysical PMS.

“Where is everyone?” she demanded, yanking at the locked drawers of the filing cabinet. “This is nuts!”

Kris snorted, leaned back against the door, and folded her arms.“Stress much? Look you’ve got to get a bit more relaxed.”

“No. I’ve got to get farther in.”

“Yeah.” The mall elf sighed. “I knew you’d say that.”

Abandoning the files, Diana crossed to stand in front of Kris, her eyes narrowed.“You don’t have to…”

“…come with, I knew you’d say that, too.” She straightened, then leaned slightly forward, capturing Diana’s gaze with hers and holding it. “Now, what amI going to say?”

Hopefully not“get your hands off me you lezzy pervert.” Their faces were so close together, their breath mingled.

Diana moved just a little bit closer.

As first kisses went, it was kind of a nonevent, but no noses ended up out of alignment, no teeth got cracked, and Kris seemed, if not enthusiastic, at least receptive. Diana would have considered it a promissory kiss except she knew the danger in foreshadowing.

“You’re thinking,” she said quietly, “that you’d rather be with me than waiting here in the storeroom all alone.”

Kris nodded, her expression confusingly noncommittal.“Close enough.”

Reminding herself that closing the segue and saving the world had to remain at the top of her to-do list, that she and Kris were now literally from two different worlds, that she was an idiot, Diana stepped back, turned, and cracked open the door to the access corridor. Her line of sight was limited, but she couldn’t hear anyone—or anything—hanging about. When Kris moved up close behind her, a crystal shot glass in the B cup of her slingshot, she opened the door the rest of the way.

The access corridor was just as she remembered it, an empty concrete tunnel; although a little darker and a little smellier and the stains seemed to be from something a lot less pleasant than merely urine. Going left would take them back into the mall. Right would take them behind the construction barrier.

Which was where they needed to go.

Touching Kris lightly on the arm, Diana pointed to the right. The mall elf nodded and moved out in front, silently indicating it was the best place for the person with the missile weapon to be. Given that the alternative would be the perfect setup for a shot glass in the back of the head, Diana decided not to argue.

Moving silently, they slipped along the wall and around the corner. Unfortunately, the meat-minds were waiting just as silently.

The shot glass thudded into the middle of an approaching body without slowing it down.

“Run!”

It wasn’t meat-minds behind them, cutting them off. Meat-minds didn’t move that quickly or look that dangerous.

*

Hanging from the taloned grip of her captor, Diana shot a glance at Kris who had finally worn herself out and was dangling quietly. Nothing they’d been able to do had had any effect on the grip of the long legged, multijointed, vaguely buglike bad guys, so she’d stopped struggling early on and tried to memorize the path they’d taken down past the construction barrier and into this ornate and, frankly, overdone throne room. Walls of etched gold, a floor of polished marble, the heads of various creatures displayed on wooden plaques, torches—who used torches in the twenty-first century?

Her nose was bleeding again. All she could do was let it drip.

Claws skittering against gleaming black stone, the two bug things carried them toward the massive jeweled throne and the silver-haired man who sat on it, one elegantly clad leg crossed over the other. He smiled, showing very white teeth as they were dropped unceremoniously to the floor, and then leaned forward with pale hands spread in a mock welcoming gesture.

“I knew you would come to me eventually, Keeper.”

Diana blinked, took a second to make sure Kris was moving, and sat up to find cold, corpse-gray eyes staring down at her with triumphant familiarity.

“Right,” she said, wiping her nose on her sleeve. “Who are you?”

EIGHT

[Êàðòèíêà: img_4]

“YOU ASK WHO I AM?” The silver-haired man with the corpse-colored eyes leaned forward.“I am your worst nightmare.”

“My worst nightmare?” Diana repeated. She hauled herself up onto her feet, hoping Kris realized that, as much as she wanted to spend the next ten minutes doing nothing but reassuring herself that the other girl was okay, duty called. “Dude, you’ve never been to high school. You’ve never had that ‘sitting down to a final exam and realizing you never actually went to the class’ dream, have you? Or had your bladder haul up the ‘I really have to pee, but the only toilet I can find is in the middle of the main hall and classes are changing’ scenario. Or done the ‘scenes from the most boring Canadian short stories ever written start coming to life in freshman English.’ Oh, wait…” She frowned, wiping her bloody nose on her sleeve. “…that last one actually happened. But the point is…” Arms folded, she met the eyes of the man on the throne. “…you are so not my worst nightma…”

The front pincers of her buglike captor smacked her behind the knees, and she went down hard.

Ow. Ow. And OW! Marble floors didn’t get softer with repeated impact. Hissing with pain as she propped herself up on a bruised elbow, she gave the enemy her best “get over yourself” expression. Six months with Sam had made it pretty effective. “If it means that much to you, you can be a bad dream and work your way up.”

He smiled almost pleasantly.“I recognize bravado when I hear it, Keeper. Brave words from a little girl in way over her head.”

Diana sighed.“Look, seriously, I really don’t know who you are. If you want me…us,” she corrected as, beside her, Kris struggled to her knees, “to cower in terror, it would work a lot better if we knew to whom we were cowering. So, if you could,please tell us your name.”

“Please?” His snort was elegant, aristocratic, and dismissive. “Did you honestly think so simple a magic would work on me?”

“Can’t blame me for trying.”

“I could kill you for trying,” he pointed out reasonably. “And if you do not know my name, I am not so foolish I will give you the power of it.”

“Okay, but head bad guy? Nasty number one? So not terrifying.”

“Not,” Kris agreed, and Diana flashed her a pleased smile for being willing to play. If they could get the guy’s name, if they could find outanything about him, she might be able to do something. Given that she wasn’t allowed to access the possibilities, she wasn’t sure what, but something. She was fairly sure her subconscious agreed his ass needed serious kicking. Unfortunately, at the moment, her subconscious was busy having mild hysterics about the giant bugs.

“If you want terrifying, Keeper, I’m willing to oblige, but, for now, there are only two things you need to know.” Sitting back, he flicked a pale finger into the air. “The first is that you live now only because I have not ordered your death. The second…” A second finger joined the first. “…is that you have failed. You have not shut down the segue, and the darkness will gain entry through it to your world.”

“Okay, one…” Diana flicked the second finger on her right hand back at him. “…I haven’t failed yet,and I’m not the only one fighting you.”

“If you speak of your sister, we can defeat her as easily as we have defeated you. More easily, I suspect, as you have by far the greater power. It was your Summons; you were your world’s best hope, and here you are. If you speak of your little friend…” He inclined his head graciously toward Kris and then jerked it back a lot less gracefully as she spat a mouthful of blood almost into his lap. “…her companions, or the Immortal King, they are even now being dealt with. The Immortal King will die and after, as always happens, the fellowship of those he leads will not survive his death. That is, after all, in the Rules.”

“What’s he talking about?” Kris demanded.

Diana touched her lightly on the arm.“I’ll tell you later.”

“You may not have a later.”

“Up yours.”

A brilliant and speculative smile.“Perhaps.”

Was he hitting on her? He was hitting on her. Eww.

“But for now, let’s have a look at the weapons you brought to the battle.”

“What weapons?” Diana demanded. “Your bugs totally trashed Kris’ slingshot and dumped her quiver back in the access corridor when they grabbed us.”

He shook his head and pointed at…

She couldn’t stop herself from looking down.

…her belt pouch. So much for subterfuge. Still, in order to take it off her, he’d have to come close enough to grab. It was possible that direct physical contact could work in her favor—darkside and lightside canceling each other out until only the more powerful remained. While willing to admit that finesse was not her strong point, Diana was fairly sure that in a contest involving raw potential, she’d be the last one standing.

Unfortunately, it seemed that she wasn’t the only one who thought so.

The bug shoved one of its smaller serrated legs between the strap and her waist. A quick sawing motion and it caught the belt pouch in its pincer as it fell. A quick twist scattered bits of the pouch and her defensive possibilities over the base of the dais.

“A few keys. Some seeds. Thread. A watch face. All primed and ready to be used. Such a shame if these fell into the wrong hands, Keeper.” He laughed at the wand which looked even more pink and plastic than usual against the black marble. “Oh, wait; you also brought a toy sent out to spread discord amongst the great unskilled.” He shook his head. “You thought you could defeat me with this?”

Since it seemed to be a rhetorical question, Diana settled for glaring. He would have felt the power discharge when she defeated the dark elf, but he clearly didn’t realize the wand had directed it. That might give them an advantage later. If they had a later…

Frowning, he looked down at the last item, a white, paper-wrapped cylinder that had bounced away from the rest.“And what,” he demanded, “is this?”

“You don’t want to know.”

Kris snickered.

“On the contrary.” A gesture brought a meat-mind out from where it had been lurking, the torches throwing its shadow around the room as it moved. Another gesture had it bend and pick the paper cylinder off the floor. “Do you tell me, or do I have my minion use it against you?”

Diana sighed.“It’s a tampon.”

The meat-mind blinked, looked down at what it was holding, and dropped it, shaking its fingers free of any contamination.

“Oh, please. It’s not like it’s been used.”

“Guys,” Kris snorted.

“Really.”

“Perhaps,” snarled the man on the throne, his lip curled in disdain, “you’ll find the situation less amusing after a little torture.”

“With a tampon?”

The disdain became confusion.“What?”

“You’re going to torture us with atampon?”

Became distaste.“Stop saying that!”

“Saying what?” Diana asked. “Tampon?”

“Feminine hygiene product?” Kris offered.

“Maxi pad?”

“Cramps.”

“Bloating.”

“Clotting.”

“Yeah, I hate it when that happens.”

He stared at them for a long moment, eyes wide and disbelieving.“Nice girls do not talk about those kinds of things!”

“But torture, that’s okay?”

“Double standards of the patriarchy,” Kris growled.

His grip tightened on the arms of the throne to the point where already pale knuckles whitened.“Get them out of here!”

*

Diana yanked at the chains securing her wrist cuffs to the wall and sighed.“I hate to say it, but the nameless nasty was right; this is already less amusing.”

“Are they really going to torture us?” Kris panted, hanging limp and exhausted. It was fairly clear they wouldn’t be able to kick, twist, or thrash their way to freedom.

“Probably.” If she only had the wand. It was times like this, chained to a wall by the nameless evil who planned to use a shopping mall to take over the world, that a few hours of unconsciousness followed by a little puking started to look good. “First they’ll leave us here to think about it for a while.”

“You know what? I’m thinking about it. And you know what I’m thinking? I’m thinking I don’t want to be tortured!”

“Who does?”

Kris found the strength for another yank at the chains.“So do something!”

“Like what?” Diana demanded, sagging back against the rough rock. “If I reach into the possibilities to free us, I break one of the big Rules. If I break a big Rule, that opens the way for them to break a big Rule and you really don’t want that to happen.”

“Hey! Read my lips, I really don’t want to be tortured either!”

“Soyou do something!”

“You’re the freakin’ wizard!” Kris slapped her chains against the wall for emphasis.

“It’s Keeper! Now stop yelling at me and letme think! Just because you couldn’t come up with something useful doesn’t mean I can’t!”

Their breathing sounded unnaturally loud in the silence that followed.

Finally, Diana sighed.“Sorry. It’s just…”

“Yeah. I know.”

She turned to see Kris frightened and battered but almost smiling at her.

“You’re supposed to be saving the world, not just hangin’ around here with me.”

“For what it’s worth, I’m glad you’re here. Not, here…here.” Diana winced as Kris’ eyebrows rose. “I mean, I’m glad I’m not alone.”

“For what it’s worth, I’d rather you were.”

Diana sighed again as Kris returned to yanking the chain. This was not going well on a number of levels; personal, professional, and probably a few other“p” words she’d come up with later. If they had a later.

They’d been chained in an alcove hacked out of the limestone walls not far from the throne room. Chained and abandoned; they hadn’t seen meat-minds or bugs since.

“How long do you think we’ve been here?”

Diana twisted her wrist until she could see her watch.“About six minutes.”

“Seems longer.”

“Yeah.”

The torches across from their alcove flickered although the air was still. In the distance, something screamed.

“So, about those Rules.”

When Diana turned, Kris’ expression announcedI’m not fuckin’ scared as loudly as if she was shouting the words. The profanity was particularly obvious.“You want me to tell you about themnow?”

Her upper lip curled.“You going somewhere?”

“Well, no.” Maybe defining a few metaphysical parameters was just the kind of distraction they needed. Maybe not, but it was all she had. Kris didn’t seem like the type to be interested in “the cute things my cat’s done lately” or what Ms. Harris and the graduating president of the chess club had been doing with two tubes of acrylic paint and a number three sable in the art supply closet on the last day of school. Which had only been…? Diana counted back. She’d traveled to Kingston on Friday; the same day school’d ended. They’d crossed over into the Otherside mall on Saturday. Was it still Saturday and, if so, which Saturday? That whole “time was relative” thing made her want to hurl—although in this instance the urge to hurl likely had more to do with the bug leg—arm? limb?—that had impacted with her stomach. Bruises were rising even…

“Hey!” Part summons, part protest, it yanked her wandering attention back to the alcove.

“Right. The Rules. The uh, the Rules impose order on the chaos of metaphysics. Magic,” she amended catching sight of bravado becoming impatience. “Right here and now, the biggest Rule to remember is that the Otherside is neutral ground, so neither good nor evil can control it.”

“Why would evil give a shit?”

“‘Because when you break the Rules, you sow the seeds of your own destruction. That’s also in the Rules.”

Kris snorted.“I think I read it in a fortune cookie.”

“Could have.” The lineage liked to spread the platitudes around.

“Although I’m sure it would be all awe inspiring or something if we weren’t chained to a fuckin’ wall.”

Diana thought about it for a moment, squinting up at the flakes of rust raining off the eyebolt as she yanked her chain against it.“Probably not,” she admitted.

“So what about that whole ‘bad guys gotta gloat’ thing?”

“Just basic psychology according to my mother. What’s the point of being an evil genius if there’s no one to tell?”

“No point, I guess.”

They hung in silence for a few minutes, then Kris muttered,“That dude on the throne, he didn’t seem like the genius type.”

“He didn’t seem like much of anything,” Diana agreed. As far as a meeting of good and evil was concerned, it was kind of a nonevent. “The bugs were cool, in anoh, gross, get it off me, get it off me kind of way, but he was bland. Boring. Disappointing, even.”

“Except that, you know, he won.”

“Yeah. Except for that.”

Off to the left of their alcove, claws skittered against stone, evoking an interlude of panicked struggles to be free. After a while, when the claws came no closer, both girls relaxed.

“It’s the fuckin’ waiting,” Kris snarled, kicking at the wall with the heel of her cross trainers. “Why didn’t they just whack us and get it over with?”

“I think they need us for something.”

“What? Getting their rocks off while we get peeled?”

Diana considered that for a moment.“No,” she decided at last, “that’s too direct for the Otherside.” The first time she’d crossed over, Claire had tried to make her understand that the shortest distance between two points was usually the long way around. Then she’d added that Diana was never, ever to think about the Smurf village again. Their mother had been furious about all the blue gunk on their shoes. “Plans on this side are always a lot twistier.”

“Okay, so if you breaking a Rule lets them break a Rule, then maybe they’re putting you in a spot where you gotta break a Rule to get free. You know, so they can break a Rule.”

Diana turned to stare at the other girl.“That’s brilliant.”

“Don’t sound so fuckin’ surprised,” Kris snorted. Her eyes widened. “Wait; you mean I’m right?”

“Probably.”

“Wicked.”

“Although it’s insulting that they think I’d break the Rules just to escape torture and death.”

“’Cause that’s not a good reason?”

“No.”

’Keepers could lie to Bystanders without breaking a sweat. To balance that, they could speak the kind of Truth that went straight to the heart.

Kris stared at her for a long moment. Then nodded.“Right.” And another long moment. “Okay. So,now how long have we been here?”

“Since the last time, about another eight minutes. Fourteen minutes all together.”

“Seems like longer.”

“Yeah.”

“Looking on the bright side, it’s a lot cooler down here.”

“Cooler than what?”

“Than it is back home.”

“Your home?”

“Yeah.”

“I wouldn’t know.”

“Right.”

One of the torches sputtered, almost went out, then began to burn steadily once again. They could hear nothing but their own hearts beating. Smell nothing but themselves and each other.

“What’s your mother like?” Kris threw the question out like a challenge.

“What?”

“Your mother. You said she was into that psychological shit. What’s she like?”

Diana shrugged as well as her position allowed.“She’s a Cousin.”

“Your mother’s your cousin? That’s got a whole unexpected squick thing goin’.”

“Not my cousin. A Cousin. It’s kind of an auxiliary Keeper. Less powerful.”

“You’re more powerful than your old lady?”

“I’m more powerful than the entire lineage. All the Cousins. All the Keepers.”

“And how’s that workin’ for you?” Kris snickered.

Bugs. Chains. Torture.“Not real well.”

“You look like her?”

“Not really, Claire and I both look like our dad which is kind of funny in a way because Claire’s so little and he’s n…”

“He’s what?”

Diana chewed on her lip. She almost had it.“You’ve been fighting the darkside in this mall for a while now, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Have you seen any women, human-looking women, fighting on their side?”

“No. Sexist bastards. They think a sister can’t be evil enough? They never met my Nana, that’s for sure.”

“Do they ever take any of the elves prisoners?”

“No.”

“So if they’re going to chain something up, they’d be chaining up their own guys.”

Kris glanced up at the chains, then back at Diana.“Okay, but why would they do that?”

“They’re evil.”

“Right.”

“And all of their guys are a lot bigger than we are.”

“Yeah.”

“And these manacles are two solid halves of iron. Not adjustable. In order to hold their guys, they’ve got to be a certain size.” Diana folded her thumb in against her palm and slid her right hand free. “They’re too big to hold us.” Sliding out her left hand, she beckoned to Kris. “Come on.”

“But…”

“I’m out, aren’t I?”

Frowning, Kris worked at her lower lip with her teeth and slowly slipped both hands free.“So how come theywere holding us?”

“Because we believed they would.” It wastwistier than that, but not really by much.

“If that’s a Rule, it’s a fuckin’ stupid Rule.”

“So not arguing here.”

They stepped out of the alcove together, but as Diana began to turn right, Kris’ fingers closed around her arm, dragging her to the left with a terse, “Come on.”

Diana dug in her heels.“No. We need to go the other way.”

“Delusional much? We need to get back and warn the others.” Her grip tightened. “That guy, he said they were being dealt with.”

“Except that we don’t know how time’s running in that end of the mall. They might’ve been dealt with days ago.”

In the barely adequate light from the torches, Kris’ eyes looked completely black with no differentiation between iris and pupil. “Then it might not have happened yet.” She gave Diana’s arm an impatient shake. “We need to get back and help them! I’m Arthur’s captain. I need to be there.”

If anyone could understand the pull of responsibility, it was a Keeper. Still…“There’s nothing you can do. You…we, have to trust that Claire handled it. Can handle it. Will handle it.” She wanted to sound comforting but suspected she sounded as though she were trying to convince herself. “Besides, she has Sam with her.”

“And what’s he supposed to do?”

“Probably nothing, but that’s not the point. The point is I have to go on. The anchor’s that way and unless we at least get a look at it, we don’t know any more than we did when we left.”

Kris shook her head.“We know there’s an old white guy in charge—big surprise—and he’s got bugs.”

“But that tells us nothing.”

“It tells me I should be hauling my ass—and yours—out of here.”

“No. You can haul your own—I can’t make you come with me—but I’m going farther in.” Diana pulled her arm free and half turned; enough to make her choice of direction obvious but not enough to turn her back on the other girl.

“It would help if I knew…” Kris drew her lower lip in between her teeth; the most vulnerable move Diana had seen her make. “It would help if I knew if he was still alive.”

“Look, whatever the processed cheese spread of evil out there is planning, it definitely hasn’t gone down because if Arthur was dead,things would be happening.”

“Things?”

“Things. Bad things.”

Kris’ gesture covered the alcove, the chains, and the general dungeonlike tone of the d?cor. “Worse than this?”

“Much. Season finale of Buffy kind of worse.”

“Which season?”

“Does it matter?”

“I guess not.”

Right or left, the passage looked identical; equally grim, equally foreboding.

“Look at the bright side,” Diana offered after a moment, “When they discover that we’ve escaped, they’ll never think of searching for us deeper in their territory. They’ll assume we headed out.”

“That’s because they’re not as stupid as they look and we are.” She drew in a deep breath, slowly releasing both it and Diana’s arm. “Fine. Let’s get going, then. Standing around ‘looking at the bright side…’”

She had the most sarcastic air quotes Diana had ever seen.

“…is exactly the sort of shit that calls wandering mons…Where are you going?”

“Farther in.”

“Fine.” A none too gentle shove pushed Diana up against the wall and out of the way. “I’m the one with the pointy ears. I’m out in front.”

“And that’s connected how?”

“Ears. Elf. Never get lost. Unless you don’twant to eventually find your way out?”

“We may have to go all the way in to get out.”

Kris shot her a look, equal parts irritation and exasperation, as she pushed by.“Man, I am so not envying your cat if this is the shit he has to put up with.”

*

Sam raced past and disappeared behind the winter coats as Claire slowed to avoid trampling the elf on guard at the entrance between the cosmetic counters. It seemed as though he might try to stop her but clearly thought better of it as he got a closer look at her face.

“Shit, Keeper…”

“Arthur!” She spat out the name. “Where is he?”

“Large Appliances.”

“And that’s where?”

“Straight to Children’s Shoes, hang a right, then a left at Women’s Accessories and straight to the back. You want I should sound the alarm?”

“No.” The alarm would only warn the assassin she was coming. Hopping on first one foot then the other, she slipped her sandals off—bare feet would make a lot less noise—then, hiking her skirt up above her knees, lengthened her stride.

Children’s Shoes, Women’s Accessories…The floor was cold, and the air smelled like overheated Teflon, like someone had left a nonstick frying pan on the stove and not realized the burner was still hot. As she ran, Claire hoped the smell was seeping through from the other mall. She didn’t like the implications if it wasn’t.

She could hear voices up ahead.

Arthur asked a question about fabric softener.

One of the elves snickered.

A cat screamed.

Sam.

Heart racing, she tried to remind herself that cats screamed as much for effect as affect and were as likely to scream in rage as in pain. It didn’t help. Death of the Immortal King, successful segue, end of the world aside, if Sam got hurt, Diana was going to kill her.

Large Appliances. Buy the washer; get one hundred dollars off the ticketed price of the dryer.

Sam crouched on top of a washing machine, tail lashing, fur straight up along his spine, ears clamped tight to his skull. He didn’t look injured. He didn’t sound injured. He sounded like a cross between a rabid raccoon and a civil defense siren.

Arthur had his sword out.

Facing them both was…at first Claire thought it was the shadow of the assassin, then it moved, an almost fluid flow from one shape to another, and she realized itwas shadow and itwas the assassin.

The shadow feinted right; Arthur moved with it, keeping his blade between them.

The shadow rose up ten, fifteen feet, stretched into a thin line, then whipped forward. Arthur dove out of the way, one hand reaching out to the mall elf beside him and dragging her behind a free-standing dishwasher.

Claire pulled a length of white thread from her belt pouch, tied two quick knots, and threw it into the darkness.

It froze, shivered once, shifted shape, and turned toward the Keeper, the thread anchoring it in place. Given the power pulling against it, the thread wouldn’t hold long.

Shrieking a challenge, Sam launched himself off the washing machine.

It arched just enough of itself out of the way.

Rising up on one knee, Arthur swung. Missed. Leaped to his feet. Swung. Missed. Nearly had his head taken off by a sudden side shot. Got his sword around in time to cut off a piece eight inches long by about three inches in diameter. It hit the floor, flattened, and shimmied its way almost too fast to follow back into its dark bulk.

Claire winced.That’s not good.

The thread was beginning to give.

Light could defeat it. Shadows disappeared in the light.

Unfortunately, the closest thing to a light source was in the refrigerator beside her and it went off when the door closed.

…door…

It could work. If she could get it to chase her. If the shelves hadn’t been put into the refrigerator. If she hit the back of the fridge with time enough to set a second path.

An ice cream scoop flew through the center of the shadow, whistled past her arm close enough for her to feel the breeze, and clattered off white enamel. The good news; the cavalry had arrived. The bad news; it was half a dozen mall elves with slingshots and bats.They couldn’t have brought flashlights?

“Careful!” Arthur’s voice rising above the sudden babble.

And a voice out of the babble.“Fuck! What is this thing?”

“An assassin!” Claire snapped. “It’s here to kill Arthur, but it’ll just as happily take any of you. Don’t let it touch you; it’ll suck your life out through any exposed skin!” If she’d thought—suspected even—that they’d be fighting shadow, she’d have brought along some lotion with an SPF of at least 30. Rummaging in the belt pouch, she pulled out her compact. “Get back! All of you. You, too, Arthur. In fact, you especially.”

He shook blue-black hair off his face.“Your spell will not hold it for much longer, wizard. I would rather be facing it and ready to fight when it breaks free than running away with my back exposed.”

“Fine.” He had a point. “Thenback away, but give me some room to work and try to remember that you must stay alive.”

“What are you planning, Keeper?”

Switching the compact from hand to hand, she wiped her palms against her skirt.“I’m going to get it to chase me into this refrigerator.”

“Are you totallymental?”

A good question. Exactly what Diana would have asked were she around. Claire spent a moment believing her little sister was up to whatever she might have to face, then flashed the assembled mall elves a confident smile. Belief and confidence both for the benefit of the Otherside.“Trust me. Just don’t close the door until I find my way out.”

“Of the refrigerator?”

“Yes.”

The shadow swayed left, the elves shifted right, and Claire felt a cold wet nose bump up against her shins.“I’m going with you.”

“No, Sam, you have to watch out for Arthur and the elves while I’m gone.”

Amber eyes narrowed.“You can’t tell me what to do!”

The shadow rose up, then snapped flat. Arthur swung his sword like a nine iron and sliced a piece off as it tried for his ankles.

“I’m not.” Too many years with Austin for her to even attempt it. “I’m just telling you what the right thing is and hoping that you’ll do it.”

“But what…”

No time for extended arguing.“You attacked the shadow, didn’t you? Kept it from sneaking up on Arthur from behind?”

“Yeah but…”

One of the knots released. Held at only one point, the shadow lashed out at the elves, fell short, and gathered itself up for another attack.

“You kept him alive. We need him alive.”

“Fine, but…”

Claire took that as an agreement and shoved Sam aside with one leg just as the second knot gave way. Snapping open the compact, she caught Arthur’s reflection in the mirror and wrapped the seeming around her. This wasn’t exactly what this had been intended for, but…

…close only counts with horseshoes and hand grenades.

Which wasn’t at all reassuring.

“Hey! Tall, dark, and two-dimensional! Over here!”

A choice between two targets.

But only one of them with a blade sharp and shiny.

Claire threw herself sideways as the shadow attacked, yanked open the refrigerator door, stepped up onto the top of the double crispers, and dove inside. Substance began to distort. Caught her. Then, as an icy touch stroked the bottom of one bare foot, caught the shadow. She jerked her foot away, tumbling through the unformed reality. Allowing the path to take her where it would, she concentrated on splitting it off behind her, on sending the shadow to its ultimate defeat.

Nothing definite. Notexactly imposing her will— Her subconscious was in full agreement with her conscious when it came to destroying that thing.

For an instant, she smelled woodsmoke and burning marshmallows and heard high, girlish voices singing rounds. Then smells, sounds, and shadow were gone.

Another slow tumble and there was water all around her.

She dropped the compact and began kicking for the surface.

*

“How much longer until the Keeper emerges?”

Sam’s ears flattened, but his gaze remained locked on the half-open refrigerator door. “I don’t know.”

Arthur crouched down beside the cat, stretched out a hand to stroke him, and thought better of it.“I think that she is safe. I think that she has defeated the shadow. I think that even now, she makes her way back to us.” When Sam’s only response was his tail tip, jerking back and forth, he sighed and straightened. “I will leave you, then, to your vigil. I think that the Keeper will be pleased to see you here when she returns.”

As the footsteps of the Immortal King faded into Women’s Accessories, Sam sighed. “I think that Austin’s going to kill me.”

*

Head up, Austin remained motionless on Claire’s pillow sifting the night for what had awakened him.

Dean? No. One arm stretched up over his head, bare chest rising and falling in the slow rhythm of sleep, Dean hadn’t moved for hours.

Something outside? No. He could hear the occasional car going by on King Street, two raccoons up a tree arguing about whose turn it was to dump the garbage but nothing unusual. Nothing to lift the fur along his back.

He glanced toward the wardrobe, Claire’s preferred entrance to the Otherside. The door was closed. Even if there was trouble, nothing could seep through.

But somethinghad wakened him. Somethinghad lifted the fur along his back. Therefore, something was wrong.

He stood, stretched, walked over Dean’s stomach to the edge of the bed, and jumped cautiously to the floor. Over the last year or so, the floor had developed a nasty habit of being farther away than it should be.

The bedroom door was open. Whiskers testing the air with every step, Austin crossed the living room, the light spilling in around the edges of the blind just barely sufficient. Except for Dean’s unfortunate taste in artwork—who really believed dogs had enough imagination to play poker—and Claire’s equally unfortunate inability to say no to him, everything seemed fine.

The door between the living room and the office was closed, but it had been years since Austin had allowed that to stop him.

With no blind on the front window, the office was lighter than the living room. And empty.

The elevator?

No.

The basement?

Not this time.

The kitchen?

He was too unsettled to be hungry.

Only one place left. Only one room occupied.

Usually, Austin preferred to stay away from the guests but tonight, he’d make an exception. Slowly and silently he slipped up the stairs, along the hall. Another closed door.

There were two bodies in the bed, the perpetually nervous scent of Dr. Rebik as distinctive as the dust and desiccation scent of his companion. His tail lashing from side to side, he crept closer, unable to shake the feeling that something was wrong but willing to believe it could be prejudice on his part. He’d half expected Meryat to have been up andwalking, arms outstretched, a bit of musty linen trailing off one heel. The whole concept of the undead annoyed him. Nine lives and it’s over, that was his motto.

A tray on the small table by the bed held two empty mugs and a plate covered in muffin crumbs. Under the table, crumpled up against the table leg, was a dead mouse.

Okay, not so much wrong as embarrassing.

The mice had come to his aid after his…meeting with the Keeper who’d been interred in room seven and when he and Claire had returned to the inn just after Christmas, they’d come to an understanding. He would see to it that they were left in peace and, in return, they would be circumspect in their foraging, stop shitting behind the microwave, and never again wear orange waistcoats with blue breeches. Mice had appalling color sense andThe Complete Tales of Beatrix Potter that had been left in the attic had only black-and-white illustrations.

This particular mouse looked to have died of old age.

Austin looked from the body up to the top of the table and shook his head. A mouse that age had no business even attempting such a climb.Stupid little bugger’s heart probably gave out on him, he thought as he sank his teeth through the tail of the brocade frock coat.

He carried the tiny corpse over to the dresser and set it gently on the floor. A strong smack with his right paw and it slid out of sight. When he heard it whack lightly against the baseboard, he nodded in satisfaction and left the room. The mice had an exit under there; now they could retrieve the body without the possibility of a guest being subjected to the sight of a tiny funeral cortege.

Nothing looked more asinine than a mouse in a black top hat and crepe.

He was halfway down the stairs when, between one heartbeat and the next, he felt something pass.

Something old.

And hungry.

And gone so fast he might have imagined it.

Except that he was a cat and cats knew…

Dean!

Heart pounding, he raced back to the bedroom and bounded onto the bed.

“Ow! That was my arm!”

“Yeah, whatever.” He freed his claws from the surface layer of skin and walked up Dean’s chest until he could stare into his face. Blue eyes blinked myopically back at him.

“What?”

“You’re okay?”

“I’m bleeding and I’m after being awake when I’d rather not be, but yeah.” His voice softened, and one hand stroked gently along Austin’s spine. “What’s wrong, then?”

“Nothing. Why should anything be wrong?”

“I just thought…”

“Well, don’t.” A purposeful climb over an inconvenient shoulder and onto Claire’s pillow. Snuggling down, he glared at Dean, now gazing at him with concern. “I thought you were sleeping?”

“I was.”

“So sleep.”

“All right. But we’ll talk about this in the morning.”

“Not so smart to warn me,” Austin muttered. Not one of his best comebacks but he was shaken. He watched Dean until he went back to sleep. Watched him sleep. Could see nothing wrong.

He’d been so sure on the stairs.

So sure.

He thought about the mouse lying dead under the table and sighed.

Maybe he was just getting old.

NINE

[Êàðòèíêà: img_4]

APALE AND SLIGHTLY MURKY GREEN, the water had never been treated by chemicals or filtered through anything but a fish bladder. As Claire’s head broke the surface and she sucked in a welcome lungful of air, a light caress trailed down the inside of one leg.

Oh it’s freshwater. Great.

Pushing her dripping hair out of her face with a quick swipe of one hand, she began treading water and trying to figure out exactly where she was. A combination of sunshine and a gentle swell threw reflected light up into her eyes, making her squint.

Outside.

Far enough beyond the segue for there to be actual weather—not the neither/nor sort of sky that had been draped over the mall—but still on the Otherside.

She’d been lucky. With both her conscious and subconscious preoccupied in sending the shadow assassin to a place where it would be no threat, she could have ended up anywhere. Stepping through a door on the Otherside with no clear idea of a destination could have resulted in a visit to any number ofunpleasant places, not only on the Otherside but in the real world as well.

She could have ended up on the south side of Chicago.

Vancouver’s Downtown Eastside.

The West Bank.

The north of Afghanistan.

At a second-run theater screening ofAttack of the Clones.

Claire shuddered.

A little water was a small price to pay.

She was wet and her batik silk skirt might never recover but she was safe. Arthur was safe. She had defeated the shadow. All that remained was to find her way back to the mall, which shouldn’t— wouldn’t—be a problem for a Keeper of her abilities.

The Otherside was no place for false modesty.

Or actual modesty.

Kicking harder lifted her head above the swells. Unfortunately, it didn’t change what she could see—water and sunlight. She turned slowly. Water and sunlight. Water and sunlight. Water and sunlight and…something. It might have been fog. It might have been land, lying low along the horizon. She sank down until her chin settled just under the water, rested for a moment, then took another look.

Something.

Exactly what I need, she amended silently and started to swim, the water lapping at her in a vaguely lascivious way.

Years of practice kept her from thinking about all the many things that could go wrong before she made it back to the mall. Plenty of things were likely to go wrong without her help.

*

“No, you cannot go after Diana. I forbid it.”

“You forbid it?” Sam’s ears flattened as he glared up at Arthur. “News flash; you’re not the boss of me!” Tail lashing from side to side, he stalked toward the door.

Only to find himself lifted off the floor by strong hands tucked into his armpits.

Folding himself almost in half, he got a back paw between his fur and an unprotected palm, got a claw out, and raked it downward.

Anyone else would have hollered and dropped him. Screamed and thrown him aside. Cursed and pitched him. All possible reactions and all a variation on a theme resulting in his freedom. Arthur jerked a little at the sudden pain but held on, and Sam realized he’d continue to hold on even if his hands were ripped to bloody shreds. For a moment, he considered testing that conclusion, then the moment passed and he found himself dangling helplessly.

“I’ll put you down if you give me your word you’ll remain in the store.”

“And if I don’t,” Sam sneered.

“Then I’m afraid I’ll have to put you somewhere secure until you give me your word or until one of the Keepers returns. They both wished you to remain here and I will not risk their wrath.”

“And my wrath?” He had a feeling his look of disdain would have been more successful had Arthur not been holding him so he could see only the back of his head.

“Your wrath, I’m afraid, I will have to risk.”

He flexed his claws.“Big mistake, bub.”

“Do I have your word?”

“No.” He needed to be free. He couldn’t be bound to the store by his word when either Diana or Claire might need him.Austin would never allow himself to be held. Too late, he realized Austin would have lied—given his word, and then broken it with a perfectly clear conscience. He could almost hear the older cat’s voice as the door to the pet crate closed behind him.

“What part of ‘cats make their own rules’ did you not understand, kibble-for-brains?”

“I changed my mind. You want my word, you’ve got it!”

Arthur shook his head.“Too convenient a conversion, I fear, but we’ll speak again later.”

“I saved you from that shadow! You owe me.”

“I do.”

“And this is how you repay me?”

“The two are not connected.”

Sam watched the Immortal King head out of Pet Supplies and searched for a sufficiently scathing last word. Unfortunately, nothing came to him. One paw braced on a crossbar, he rose up on his hind legs and studied the latch. It could only be opened from the outside.

“Hey, little furry dude. What’re you in for?”

Sighing, he dropped back down to all fours and glanced mournfully up at Stewart.“I wouldn’t promise Arthur I’d stay in the store.”

“Oh, for crying out loud; what part of ‘lying’ did you not understand?”

Oops.

“Couldn’t lie to him, eh? Yeah, I know how it is. He’s the kind of guy you can’t lie to because this little voice in your head just kind of chimes in and says he deserves the truth.”

“The little voice inmy head keeps calling me kibble-for-brains.”

“Harsh.”

“Yeah, but cats are supposed to be good at lying. And they’re supposed to only think of themselves, but I can’t stop worrying about Diana. And Claire. And you guys.”

“Us guys? Hey, we’re fine.”

Sam swept an amber gaze up one side of the mall elf and down the other, getting full mileage from the disdainful expression Arthur hadn’t seen. “No, you’re not. The only person I’m not worried about is Dean, and that’s because he’s got Austin with him and Austin knows what he’s doing. He can keep bad things from happening. I can’t.” The stripes on his forehead folded back into a worried frown. “I just haven’tbeen a cat long enough.”

“Yeah?” Stewart picked up a tiny purple mouse on a scarlet string, looked at it thoughtfully for a moment, then began attaching it to a braid. “What were you before you were a cat?”

“An angel.”

“An angel? A real angel? No shit?”

“Not until I got a body, then it came as a bit of a surprise.”

“Okay.” Reaching into a birdcage, the mall elf pulled out a tiny mirror. “Why do you suppose birds want to look at themselves?”

“I have no idea.”

“Are they just, like, really vain? Or do they think the mirror’s some kind of, I don’t know, magic window to another bird?”

Mirror’s some kind of magic window.

Magic mirror.

Sam padded over to Stewart’s side of the crate. “Can I have that?”

“The mirror?” He finished checking the position of the purple mouse, flipped the narrow braid back over his shoulder, and shrugged. “Sure.”

That was easy.

“Can you unlatch the crate?”

“Sorry, little furry dude, not unless Arthur says it’s okay.”

Oh, well. Worth a try.

Back in the Emporium, Austin had used a mirror to talk to the magic mirror and then used the magic mirror to connect to him. Well, technically, Claire; but the basics were the same. If he could use the budgie mirror to contact the magic mirror, then he could find out where Claire was and if Diana was okay. Sam ran through that one more time, just to be certain it made sense, then had Stewart hook the mirror over the crossbar. Ignoring the dangling bell and bits of fake feather, he stared at his reflection.

His reflection stared back.

Apparently, there was a trick to it.

He leaned closer until his breath fogged the glass. Leaned a little closer until there was less than a cat-hair’s width between his nose and the mirror. He wasnot in the mood for tricks.“HEY!”

Blue-on-blue eyes snapped up out of nowhere.“I’m not deaf! Or I wasn’t,” Jack added petulantly as Sam jumped back. His eyes slid from one side of the mirror to the other, then widened. “Okay, this is new. Hold it!”

Sam froze, one paw in the air.

“Don’t move your reflection off the glass. It’s all that’s holding me here. Not that itshould be holding me here. Or that I should be here at all.” The eyes narrowed speculatively. “Who knows, maybe our earlier connection left some residue or something. So what do you want?”

“Information.”

“Yeah? Well, I’m a mirror—not a database.”

“Information on Claire and Diana.”

“You lostboth Keepers?”

Sam really didn’t like the way that sounded. “You know something.”

“Not about Claire, I haven’t seen her since you guys crossed over, but…”

Jack’s pause suggested all sorts of horrible possibilities. “But what?” Sam demanded, surging back toward the mirror.

“Diana was in the store; her and some elfin cutie. They stopped and talked, I told them what I knew, and they went into the back room. I don’t know how to break this to you, kid, but from the buzz I picked up later, they got caught.”

“By the bad guys?”

Blue-on-blue eyes rolled.“No, by the Publishers’ Clearing House prize patrol. Of course by the bad guys!”

“And?”

“Sorry, kid. That’s all I know.”

“Okay.” Sam stepped away from the mirror, and the eyes disappeared. Tail whipping from side to side, he caught Stewart in an amber gaze and growled, “Get Arthur.”

*

Dean knew he was dreaming because, although he had once played hockey in his underwear, he’d never had so much trouble covering the ice. It had to have been five or six kilometers between the goals and by the time he crossed the blue line, he could barely put one skate in front of the other. With all his remaining strength, he drew back his stick, set up for a slap shot, and stared inamazement as the blue light around the puck turned white and sparkly and, for no good reason that he could determine, it ascended, becoming a higher being.

“Hey, McIssac!”

He looked down at Austin, wondering how he could actually blow a whistle without lips.

“What have I told you about keeping your stick on the ice?”

It took him a moment to remember how his mouth worked.“Nothing.”

“Fine. If that’s the way you’re going to be about it, get up and feed me.”

“What?”

“I said, get up and feed me!”

A sudden sharp pain on his chin jerked his eyes open in time to see Austin pull back his paw, claws still extended.

“What’s a cat got to do to get some breakfast around here?”

Rubbing his chin with his left hand, Dean reached for his glasses with his right.“That’ll do it.” The sheet felt like it weighed a hundred pounds and after he swung his legs out of bed, it took him a moment to remember what he was supposed to do next.

“Are you all right?”

“Just some tired.” He squinted toward the bedside table. “Is that the time, then?”

“Let’s see…” Austin walked across the pillows. “Numbers on a clock; yes, I’d have to say that was the time.”

“It’s seven thirty. I slept through the alarm.” He never slept through the alarm.Had never slept through the alarm. Ever. It bordered on irresponsible. Two tries to stand up, but once he was actually on his feet, his head seemed a little clearer. Washing, shaving, dressing, refolding perfect hospital corners; by the time he set Austin’s saucer of cat food on the floor, he’d shaken off the sluggishness and was feeling more like himself.

Moving the fridge out from the wall and vacuuming the cooling coils banished the last of it.

It had probably been nothing more than a reaction to the uncomfortably warm temperature in the bedroom. He hated sleeping with a fan on and the air outside was so still and hot, an open window made little difference.

“Good morning.”

A pleasant soprano voice but not one Dean recognized unless Dr. Rebik had woken up in even worse shape than he had. He finished shouldering the fridge back against the wall, turned, and was surprised to see Meryat’s shrouded form standing alone at the end of the counter dividing kitchen and dining room.

“It is a…beautiful day.”

It was already 29 degrees C, the sun so bright on the front of the guest house he’d nearly been blinded stepping into the office. Still, for someone used to the weather in Egypt it probably felt like home.

“You’re speaking English.”

Although he still couldn’t see her face, the tilt of her hood looked confused. “England?”

“No, Canada.”

“But…English?”

“Canadians speak English. Except for those of us who speak French. We have two official languages, see, and we have people who speak both. And a Prime Minister who speaks neither. Sorry, that was kind of a joke,” he added hastily as he felt her confusion level rise. Taking a step toward her, hetried to explain. “He’s after having this accent that’s uh…”

Her hand rose toward his chest.

His voice trailed off and he froze, trying to decide which would be ruder, backing away or shuddering at her touch.

Fingertips, a little less black than they had been, stopped just above his T-shirt. Close enough that he could feel body heat filling the space.

“You are…strong.”

“Strong?” Then he remembered she’d seen him move the fridge and blushed. “Well, yeah, I guess. Thank you.”

“Strong is…good.”

There was a note in her voice that deepened the color of his ears. Nine months ago, he wouldn’t have even realized she was hitting on him, but since Claire…

“Your Keeper…will return…soon?”

“I hope so.”

She was smiling. Heknew she was smiling. He just wished he knew what to do about it.

“Meryat?”

Her hand fell, but the heat lingered. She turned toward Dr. Rebik and murmured something in her own language. When he shook his head, she repeated it. Or something so close to it Dean couldn’t tell the difference.

The archeologist sighed and motioned toward the dining room, allowing Meryat to precede him.“Would a little breakfast be possible, Mr. McIssac?”

“Sure.”

“I’ll have what I had yesterday, and Meryat would like to know if there’s any chance of chopped dates and honey on a flatbread.”

Why didn’t she ask him herself?

“Sorry, no, but I could do up some grape jelly on Melba toast.”

Dr. Rebik glanced down at his companion then back at Dean, and shrugged wearily.“Close enough.”

*

“I don’t trust her. You’re too tired to get up this morning, and suddenly she’s able to complain about the food.”

“It’s not what she’s used to.”

Austin sighed and walked over to stand on the dishwasher where he could look Dean in the face.“You’re missing the point. You’re tired. She’s got new skills. She’s a mummy. Mummies are known for sucking the life force out of the people they come in contact with.”

“We’re not in a cheesy horror movie here,” Dean protested as he straightened.

Austin merely stared.

“No matter what it seems like most of the time,” Dean amended. “And besides, you said you checked on her and she didn’t leave her bed. She’d have a little trouble sucking my life force from the second floor.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Why are you so suspicious?”

“Why aren’t you?”

“Austin, I can’t be after accusing her of something without proof. It doesn’t do any harm to think the best of people.”

“Yeah, tell that to your dried and desiccated corpse,” the cat muttered. Jumping carefully down, he followed Dean out into the hall. “Now, where are you going?”

“Up to the third floor.” He hauled back the elevator door. “I can’t just leave Lance at the beach indefinitely. You want to come, then?”

“No…yes.”

“You’re thinking he’ll be an ally in this sudden antimummy thing of yours, aren’t you?”

Austin wrapped his tail around his toes and snorted.“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

*

By concentrating on what a pleasant swim she was having, Claire managed to have pretty much exactly that. Granted, the water had a tendency to throw in a grope or two when she was least expecting it, but she was a strong swimmer and, bottom line, it made what could have been a tedious hour a little more interesting.

When she could hear the breakers folding against the shore, she stopped and had another look, checking out potential landing sites. The white sand beach stretched in a shallow arc for six or seven kilometers rising up from the water in a series of staggered dunes, sand giving way to grasses, to low ground covers, to aspens, and a good distance inland to the darker blur of a mature forest.

The blue-and-white–striped cabana, flags flapping, sides billowing in the gentle breeze, looked ridiculously out of place.

Blue-and-white–striped cabana?

Claire lost her stroke, got smacked in the face by a wave, choked, coughed and started swimming with everything she had left. Assumptions, conscious or subconscious, were no longer relevant. Sheknew what lived here.

The first time they’d used the elevator, the first time they’d stepped out on this beach, had nearly been their last. While she and Dean had been wading, taking a bit of a break from the extended responsibilities their lives had become bogged down in, a giant not-a-squid had heaved itself up through the surf, attacked, and almost crawled—squelched? flopped?—back into the elevator with them. It had moved terrifyingly fast even on land, out of its natural habitat.

Did an unnatural creature havea natural habitat, Claire wondered, sucking in a lungful of damp air and then burying her face again for another dozen strokes.Or would it be an unnatural habitat?

Not that it mattered. It was fast on land. In the water…

The gentle touches had become motivating rather than interesting, each bringing with it the image of a tentacle tip rising from the depths.

Or the shallows.

The waves were stronger this close to shore and gritty with sand scooped up from the bottom. Claire crested a breaker, let it carry her forward, tumbled out of it, rolled once, got her feet under her, planted them firmly, and pushed off. It wasn’t quite body surfing, but it was faster than swimming.

Still not as fast as the not-a-squid.

Would you just shut up!

Subconscious, conscious; she neither knew nor cared.

During the brief time Augustus Smythe had been back in charge of the guest house, he’d killed three. In the first two months they were back, she and Dean had taken out two more. They hadn’t seen one since.

Which didn’t mean anything, really.

What part of shut up are you having trouble understanding?

The next time her feet touched bottom, she was standing in water only thigh-deep and it was faster to run. Her skirt, which had been floating free and in no way impeding her kick, had decided to buy into the general sense of urgency by wrapping around her legs. Wet silk had the tensile strength of 80s hair spray and, unable to get the knots untied, she finally hoisted it to waist level and made it ashore.

Well aware that collapsing at the edge of wet sand, sinking down, gasping for breath, and giving thanks for her survival would have been the proper dramatic gesture, Claire kept moving until she got to the cabana. A dramatic gesture on the Otherside tended to call an appreciative audience. She didnot need to deal with any more weirdness right now.

Throwing back the flap, she stared down at the large blond Bystander lying on one of the air mattresses, his left arm tucked up behind his head, his right curved around an inflatable shark. Even in the dim light filtering through the canvas, all his exposed skin was a deep, painful red; Claire’d seen rarer steaks.

His eyes were a brilliant blue.

Eyes?

“Nice underwear!”

Dropping her skirt, she wondered why she’d expected him to be Australian. “Who are you?”

“Lance Benedict!” Tossing the shark aside, he bounded to his feet. “You escaped from her, didn’t you?”

“Who?”

“Meryat!”

“No.” She stepped inside and let the flap fall. “How did you get here?”

“The same way you did, I imagine!”

“Do us both a favor and don’t imagine anything.” Technically, Bystanders couldn’t affect the Otherside, but in all the times she’d taken the elevator to the beach, Claire had never realized it was on the Otherside so…wait. Could there be more than one Otherside? Would that not depend onhow many sides reality started with? And did that not depend on an agreed upon definition of reality?

My head hurts.

“Did she throw you from her dahabeeyah?”

“Her what?” With any luck, there was some variety of painkiller in the first aid kit.

“Her boat. You’re wet! Did she throw you from her boat?”

“Who isshe?”

“Meryat, the reanimated undead! I’m the only one who knows how to stop her!”

Claire looked down at the two aspirins in her hand and realized they were going to be insufficient.“Please, tell me everything from the beginning.”

“In the beginning, only the ocean existed, and on this ocean appeared an egg from which was born the sun-god, Atum. He had four children, Geb and Shu, Tefnut and Nut. Planting their feet on Geb…”

“Lance.”

“Yeah?”

“Skip ahead.”

*

Okay. There was a 3,000-year-old mummy and the archaeologist who’d freed her from her cursed existence in the guest house with Dean and Austin. Given the type of clientele the guest house attracted, this was in no way surprising. A pair of Shriners and their wives, yes. Reanimated Egyptian noblewomen, no.

But Lance believed that Meryat was dangerous, that she would suck dry the lives she came into contact with until she regained her former power, that she would then use that power to take over the world. He also believed that Dr. Rebik was under some kind of mind control that kept him from seeing Meryat as she really was and that the beach was her initial attempt to bury the world under the sands of ancient Egypt.

Just because he was wrong about that last point, did that automatically make him wrong about the rest?

Claire glanced across the cabana at Lance; currently making entries in a PDA he’d pulled from a belt pouch. She wanted to believe he’d spent way, way too much time in the sun, but the fact was that herehe was.

Dean obviously hadn’t believed Lance’s story, or he wouldn’t have sent him on his little elevator ride. As Dean gave pretty much everyone he met the benefit of the doubt, he had to have doubted Lance more than Meryat and Dr. Rebik.

Conclusion; Dean and Austin were in no danger. Lance was merely a Bystander who’d applied a Saturday Afternoon Movie explanation to his first contact with the metaphysical.

And he’d spent way, way too much time in the sun.

Since they knew they were being hunted, she couldn’t come up with a reason for the mummy and Dr. Rebik to stay at the guest house for more than one night. As soon as they were safely away, Dean would be up to retrieve Indiana Lance from his sandcastle of delusion.

Although the thought of seeing Dean made her heart beat faster, and she missed Austin with an almost physical ache, she had to get back to the mall. She’d left an eighteen-month-old cat guarding an Immortal King, her little sister was out scouting the darkside, and, if not stopped, the post-segue owners would not be exaggerating when they advertised the “sale to end all sales.”

If this was the Otherside, then she could lift the stack of extra towels and find a pen and piece of paper tucked beneath them. Holding that image in her mind, she lifted the towels. Three tiny bones, a catnip square, and what looked like the spleen of a small animal. Either Austin had found something to hunt on their last visit, or he was casting auguries again. Either way, she didn’t want to know.

Claire let the towels drop and turned to Lance who was stowing his PDA in its pouch.“I don’t suppose you have a pen and some paper? I need to leave a note.”

“Better!” He crossed the cabana in two long strides, holding out a small black book and a pencil. “When you’re on a dig at Karnak, you need a writing implement you can fix with a knife!”

“Do you have a knife?”

“I have a pencil sharpener.”

“Okay.”

*

She’d entered by water; she’d have to exit by water. Unfortunately, that meant a sudden and total immersion with no thoughts of vicious not-a-squids waiting for her below the surface.

“Where are you going?” Kicking out a fine spray of sand, Lance hurried to catch up.

“To the headlands.”

“Great idea! The high ground will give us a chance to see where Meryat’s hiding. She’s sneaky, but there’s got to be a palace around here somewhere.”

Claire sighed. He was consistently delusional at least.

Eventually—after embalming, ancient Egyptian magic, and the tracking of the risen undead had been thoroughly explained—the soft sand gave way to pebbles and then to the ridge that jutted out into the water. She winced as a sharp rock dug into the bottoms of her feet.

“I bet you wish you had shoes on!”

Actually, she was trying very hard not to wish he’d fall and break his neck.

The rock smoothed out on the top of the ridge and she was able to move quickly out to the end. They were twenty, maybe twenty-five feet above the water.

“Long walk back,” Lance observed, one hand shading his eyes as he gazed toward the distant cabana.

“Not necessarily.”

“The sun hasn’t moved!”

“It never does.”

“I don’t see Meryat’s palace.”

“As Diana would say, ‘Quel surprise. Not.’”

“Who’s Diana?”

“My sister.” Who needed her. In the mall. Not standing here trying to see past reflections to what might be lurking below the surface. Fortunately, she didn’t need to convince herself that there was nothing there, only that it didn’t matter. She wasn’t jumping into water; she was using the change, the line between air and water like a door. “Go back to the cabana and wait for Dean.”

“I think I should keep searching for Meryat.”

“Whatever.” This Bystander, at least, was not her responsibility. Stepping back half a dozen paces, she ran for the edge of the rock and jumped, folding her knees tightly against her chest, arms holding them in place in order to cross the line assimultaneously as possible.

Just before she hit the water, she heard:

“Cannonball!”

*

“Lance!” Dean moved a little farther away from the propped-open door of the elevator and yelled again. “LANCE!”

“Maybe Meryat ate him.”

“Not funny, Austin.”

“Not joking.”

“He’s not answering and I don’t see…Austin!”

“I know, I know.” Austin stepped off the path and began digging a new hole. “Just because this place looks like the world’s biggest litter box doesn’t mean I should yadda yadda.” After checking depth, he stepped forward, positioned himself, and glared up at Dean. “Do youmind?”

“Sorry.” Ears red, Dean headed for the cabana. “I’ll be after checking if Lance is inside.”

“Yeah, you be after doing that, then.”

There were a suspicious number of footprints around the cabana’s flap. A large bootprint—Dean dropped to one knee and measured it against his hand—probably belonging to Lance, and a small bare print that appeared to have come up from the water.

“Hey, Claire’s been here.”

“Claire?” Heel, toes, instep; still anonymous to him. “How can you tell?”

“I’m a cat.” Flopping down, Austin rolled over on his back, sunlight gleaming on the white fur of his stomach as he rubbed his shoulders into the compacted sand. “And I’m generally a lot closer to the ground than you are.”

Hard to argue with. Leaping to his feet, Dean grabbed for the canvas.“Claire!”

“She’s not here, hormone-boy. Look there, the same footprints heading out. She’s been and gone.”

“How long ago?”

“About thirty-one minutes. She was walking quickly, carrying a ham sandwich, and hummingThe 1812 Overture.”

“You can tell all that from her footprints?”

“No, you idiot, I can’t. But I’d be just as likely to know the last two as the first.” Shaking his head, the cat slid through the break in the canvas.

Because he couldn’t think of anything better to do, Dean followed. “Still no Lance.” But therewas a note on the beer cooler.“Just passing through. Still working on the mall. I agree with your assessment of Lance. Austin, you’re eating the geriatric cat food and that’s final. Love you both. Claire.” He folded his hand around the paper.

“Are you going to do something sappy, like hold the note up to your heart?”

“No.” Not now he wasn’t. “Do you think she took Lance with her?”

Wrapping his tail around his toes, Austin looked thoughtful.“They definitely headed off together, and she said she trusted your assessment of him.”

“Well, after hearing Lance’s story, it wouldn’t be hard for Claire to figure out that I sent him up here to get him safely out of the way.”

“So maybe she took him with her because this place is no longer safe.”

Dean’s brows drew in and he studied the cat. “Facetious comment?”

“Experienced guess.”

Fair enough.“And if this place is no longer safe…”

“…we should go.” Austin finished, jumping down and running for the cabana’s flap.

Dean caught up to him halfway back to the elevator.“Did you know there was a back way into this beach?”

“Sure.”

“You lying to me?”

“You’ll never know.”

*

“It’s like a fucking maze down here. What do they need all these tunnels for?”

“Nothing. It’s whatwe expected to find.” Specifically, it was what she’d expected to find, unable to shake the feeling that they couldn’t just go straight to the anchor—way too easy. About to suggest they stop wandering and start coming up with some sort of a plan, she snapped her mouth closed as Kris raised a silencing hand.

Voices.

Angry voices.

Not very far away but bouncing off the rock.

Head cocked, ears fanned out away from her skull, Kris slowly turned in place. Barely resisting the urge to make beeping sounds, Diana waited. After a long moment, Kris pointed to the left.“That way.”

“I guess Chekhov was right.”

“What doesStar Trek have to do with this?”

“Notthat Chekhov. The Russian writer—we studied him last year in English.”

“You studied a Russian in English?”

“Yeah. Go figure. He said that you never hang elf ears on the wall in act one, unless you’re going to use them in act three.”

“You’re not making any fucking sense. You know, that, right?”

The tunnels to the left slanted away on a slight downward angle—just enough to be noticeable. Heading down toward evil…it was annoyingly clinch?d and beginning to make Diana just a little nervous. She’d cop to the maze but not the slope, she just didn’t do symbolism that blatant. Which meant something that did was in control of this part of the Otherside.

The voices grew louder, and Kris pointed to an inverted, triangular-shaped fissure in the rock.

And this is why I get the big bucks, Diana reminded herself, kicking the toe of one sneaker into the bottom of the crack and heaving herself up into the passage. It took her a moment to figure out how to tuck herself inside, but she finally started inching sideways toward the distant argument. Rocks jutting out from the sides of the fissure scraped across her stomach, laying out what she was sure would be a fascinating pattern of bruises, and there were one or two places where she was positive she lost chunks of her ass.Memo to self: lay off the ice cream and thank God I don’t have much in the way of breasts.

She didn’t expect Kris to climb in after her but couldn’t do much about it since she’d reached a spot without enough room to turn her head.

Stretch out left arm, stretch out left leg, anchor both, and shimmy sideways.

And then she ran out of fissure.

Dipping her left shoulder, Diana forced herself close enough to the outside edge to get a look around.

They were in a crack about twenty feet up the wall of a huge circular chamber.

The generic nasty from the throne room was standing just off center.

In the center, in the exact center, was a hole. Not a metaphysical hole, an actual round hole. Like a well.

Before she could follow that new information through to any kind of a logical conclusion, a piece of shadow fell screaming from the ceiling. Shuddering, she had to admit it had reason to scream. Reasons. Reasons that started with the baby doll pajamas, worked through the lopsided braids, and finished at the residue of melted marshmallow, chocolate, and graham cracker crumbs.

No Name Nasty didn’t seem to have much sympathy for it.

“I don’t care how many boxes of cookies you have to sell! You’re pathetic. You were sent to assassinate the Immortal King…”

Diana felt Kris’ gasp by her right ear and managed to wrap a hand around the other girl’s arm. Now was not the time.

“…and you failed!”

There. It failed. Good news.

“YOU HAVE BOTH FAILED.”

Diana stiffened.“Oh, Hell.”

“I thought you weren’t supposed to swear,” Kris muttered.

“I wasn’t.”

TEN

[Êàðòèíêà: img_4]

BACKING OUT OF THE FISSURE scraped and bruised a number of interesting new places, but given what she now knew, Diana found the pain a whole lot easier to ignore.There’s was nothing like finding yourself right back at a potential apocalypse to put a bruised boob in perspective.

“FEE, FI, FOE, FEEPER…”

That didn’t sound good. She poked Kris, trying to get her to move a little faster. Kris flashed her a one-finger answer.

“Feeper? What’s a feeper?” The guy from the throne room, now positively identified as a Shadowlord, had become a lot harder to hear.

“IF I COULD FINISH!”

“Sorry.”

“NOT YET, YOU AREN’T. BUT YOU WILL BE.”

With any luck, the punishing of the unnamed Shadowlord would distract…

“AS I WAS SAYING; FEE, FI, FOE, FEEPER, I SMELL THE BLOOD OF A NEARBY KEEPER!”

…or not.

Kris dropped down into the corridor.

“We have a Keeper in chains…” the Shadowlord began.

“NO, YOU DON’T.”

“Yes, we…”

“NO.”

“But…”

“YOU’RE AN IDIOT.”

Diana stumbled as she landed, cracked her knee against the stone floor, and told herself to ignore it.“Come on.” Grabbing Kris’ hand, she dragged the mall elf into a run. “We’ve got to get out of here.”

“Haven’t I been saying that?”

“Yeah, but now I’m saying it.” First, up the slope. Then, when the floor leveled out, she’d follow the signature of her scattered stuff back to the throne room. After that, a fast run through the construction site and into the access corridor. Granted, the last time she’d covered that particular bit of the escape route, she was being dragged by a giant bug, but she was fairly sure she remembered the pattern of water seepage on the ceiling.

As they turned the first corner, Kris leaned in close and said, in an urgent whisper.“Who was that talking?”

“I told you.”

“You said; oh, hell.”

“Close.” A short pause at the second corner to make sure the way was clear. “I said, oh, Hell.”

“And the diff?”

“Capital letter.”

“So that was really…?”

“Yeah.” At the third corner, the floor leveled out. Diana reached out, feeling for possibilities out of place. Not surprisingly, it wasn’t hard to pick up the signature of Keeper-designed weapons over the general hum of evil.

“But Hell’s a place. Places don’t talk.”

“It’s not so much a place as it’s a metaphor.”

“Whatever. Just so’s you know, I don’t believe in Hell.”

“Just soyou know, that doesn’t matter.”

“It isn’t real!”

Diana sighed.“Six months ago, you were freezing your ass off, trying to survive on the streets during a Canadian winter. Now, you’re an elf, living in an evolving shopping mall, having been made the Captain of the Guard for an allegorical king. All things considered, I think you should be a little more open-minded about the parameters of reality.”

“All things considered, I think I have the right to be fucking terrified!”

On a list of bad times for a second kiss, a kiss intended to fall between attraction and relationship, standing in a torchlit tunnel, deep in territory controlled by the dark side of a segue that could allow Hell itself into the world, ranked up there near the top—above “during the funeral of one of the participants” but definitely below “in the holding cell at a maximum security prison.”

Figuring that there wasn’t likely to be a right time any time soon, Diana closed her eyes and leaned in. After a moment—a long moment of soft lips and gentle pressure and just a little tongue—she pulled back and murmured, “Still terrified?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh…”

“But if you were trying to distract me, I gotta say it was a better idea than more stupid stories about your cat.”

“Hey, that’s Claire! I don’t tell stupid stories abo…”

The third kiss involved a little more tongue and strong fingers cupped around the nape of her neck. Diana’s left hand buried itself in the warm mass of mahogany dreads and her right spread out to touch as much of a narrow waist as possible.

“I’m not sayin’ this is anything more than a reaction to that whole Hell thing.”

Still close enough that Kris’ voice was a soft warmth against her face, Diana murmured, “I’m not asking it tobe more than a reaction to that whole Hell thing.”

“I’m not sayin’ that it isn’t either.”

“Okay.”

“I thought we had to get out of here?”

“We do.”

“You can beat this thing, right?”

“Sure.”

Kris’ eyes widened and she stepped back, breaking the heat between them. “You don’t know, do you?”

“Look, I’m the most powerful Keeper in the lineage right now, and Claire’s already closed this thing down once. Anything’s possible, so all we have to do is find the right possibility. Which we won’t find standing here.” Taking a deep breath, she added a little more distance between them. “Let’s go.”

By the time they reached the alcove where they’d been chained, they could hear the distant sound of pursuit behind them.

“I guess it’s stopped arguing,” Diana muttered as they began running faster.

“You mean they’ve stopped arguing.”

“No. The guy from the throne room is a Shadowlord, as much a shadow of Hell as the assassin; just bit more formed, is all.”

“Hell was arguing with itself?”

“It’s a thing it does. It doesn’t get out much.”

“And that’s good, right?”

Diana shot a quick, disbelieving glance at the elf.“Generally speaking, yeah.” They took a small flight of stairs two steps at a time. “This also explains why the Shadowlord thought I should know him and why he lacks a name. Bits of Hell don’t get names until they’ve really distinguished themselves in some truly disgusting way.”

“So Jerry Springer’s pretty much a gimme?”

“Pretty much, yeah.”

They were running between walls of dressed stone now. Walls that had been built rather than carved out of the bedrock. They were very close to the throne room.

“Good thing…the torches are still…lit,” Kris panted.

“Yeah. They’re lit…because I expect them to…be. We need them…to get out of here.”

“Wouldn’t Hell…know that?”

“Probably. But I don’t…think it has direct influence…this far out yet.”

Between the time her right foot rose and she brought it under her body, ready to stretch it out front once again, the torches went out.

“Of course, I could be wrong.”

*

The bedroom was dark when Austin woke. The day just passed had grown overcast, although no cooler, and that overcast had lasted into the night, blocking starlight and moonlight and, very nearly, streetlight. Eye open the merest slit, he could see Dean’s darker-on-dark silhouette on the other pillow and not much else, but he knew they weren’t alone. Something stood beside the bed.

Something satisfied…

He sprang without warning, over Dean and off the edge of the bed. So positive that his claws would connect with linen bandages, he was taken completely by surprise when he hit the floor.

And was blinded an instant later.

“Austin?” One hand on the switch for the bedside lamp, Dean blinked down at the cat. “What’s the matter, then?”

“She was here. Just a second ago.”

“Who was?”

“Who do you think?”

“Meryat?”

“Give the man a rubber mouse.” He stalked stiff-legged out into the sitting room. “She’s gone.”

“I didn’t hear the door…”

“Neither did I.”

“So how did she leave without opening and closing the door? She couldn’t go through it—she’s touched me, you know. She’s solid. And slow. You’ve seen how she walks.”

“Maybe she’s just pretending to be slow.”

“I think I’d know if she was faking it.”

Austin snorted.“You’d be surprised.” He padded back to the bedroom and stared up at Dean. “I don’t know how she’s doing it, but she’s been sucking your life force!”

“You sound like Lance.”

“Yeah?” Hooking his claws into the edge of the mattress, he rappelled his way up the side of the bed and stood on Dean’s thighs. “You look exhausted. Explain that!”

Dean squinted at the clock.“It’s three forty-sevena.m.”

“You were sleeping; you should be rested.”

“I should still besleeping.” Settling back against his pillow, he gently stroked the spot behind Austin’s left ear with his thumb. “Has it occurred to you that maybe you’re having mummy nightmares because you’re a cat and cats have this whole Egyptian connection going?”

Eye narrowed, Austin glared.“You know nothing about that.”

“Not true. When I had the new strut put in the truck, there wereNational Geographics in the waiting room and I read this article on cats in ancient Egypt.”

“How old was the magazine?”

“Some old, but they were talking about 1,500 BC; does it matter?”

“I am not having nightmares. I am not imagining things. And I did not tell you to stop doing that.”

“Sorry.” Dean started stroking again as Austin stretched out.

“I will get to the bottom of this,” he vowed, sweeping his tail across Dean’s legs.

“Sure you wi…OW! Lord t’undering Jesus, cat! I’m attached to those!”

“Then maybe you should consider where my claws are before you make another patronizing observation.” Having leaped safely away from any physical retaliation, Austin curled up into a tight ball on Claire’s pillow and closed his eye. “Turn out the light, would you. It’s the middle of the night.”

*

“Where are we?”

“Based on the cannons, the parapets, and that big guardhouse,” Claire hissed, grabbing a handful of Lance’s wet shirt and dragging him down behind the buttress, “I’d say we were in a fort.”

“Which fort?”

“I don’t know.” They were still on the Otherside, although which Otherside she wasn’t entirely certain—a concept she’d take the time to find disturbing the moment she was no longer personally responsible for an idiot Bystander. Motioning for him to follow, she murmured, “Stay close,” and led the way along the inside curve of the outer wall. When she paused in the triangular shadow of a small lean-to, he tucked up tight behind her. She reached back and shoved hard enough to break the contact between them. “Notthat close.”

He inched in again.“What are we doing here?”

“You yelled cannonball as you hit the water and that influenced the path.”

“This is Meryat’s doing, isn’t it?”

“No.” Claire measured the distance between their hiding place and the guardhouse and decided a sprint across open ground with a Bystander in tow was just too dangerous—no matter how much she would dearly love to lose said Bystander. They hadn’t seen any actual guards, but that didn’t meanthereweren’t any actual guards.

“But…”

“Would youplease shut up.”

“But why is it dark?”

“It’s night.” She didn’t know why the magic word wasn’t working—whether it was her, or him, or a combination of them both—but only an urgent need to return to the mall kept her from trying out a few more words. Any delays at this point would only serve the segue.

“It wasn’t night at the beach.”

Any delays at this point…“No, it wasn’t.” She’d be willing to detour and take him back to the beach, but that didn’t seem to be possible. That path had closed behind them. And taking him back to the real world would take far too long. Time she—and the world—didn’t have.

“This is Meryat’s…”

“No, it isn’t. Shut up.”

On the other side of the lean-to, the wall curved out to the left. Wet skirt clinging to her legs, she crept forward, stumbled as Lance grabbed hold of the fabric, and managed to regain her balance without doing anything Lance would regret for the rest of his very short life. She followed the wall into a shallow alcove and began running her hands over the stone.

Lance crowded in with her.“What are you looking for?”

“A door.”

“Why?”

“So we can go through it.”

“And then we’ll be on the other side of it!”

“Yes…no.” She didn’t know what the alcove was for, but it wasn’t an access to anything. “Didn’t I tell you to shut up?”

“Yes!”

Turning brought them almost nose to chest. Claire glared up at the oblivious grad student.“How many times am I going to have to say shut up before you actually do it?”

Lance looked thoughtful.“I don’t know.”

*

“So you used this budgie mirror to contact a magic mirror in the Emporium…” Frowning at his reflection, Arthur turned the tiny mirror between long fingers. “…which is both the store nearest to the darkness anchoring the segue and the place where you and the Keepers crossed through to thisside.”

Sam hooked his claws on the crossbar of the crate and stared at Arthur—who’d crouched just out of paw reach, his sword point on the floor, pommel jutting up at a sharp angle over his left shoulder. “Yes.”

“And this mirror said it saw Diana and Kris pass through the store?”

“Yes.”

“But that it later heard gossip suggesting they had been captured?”

“Recap much? Get on with it!”

“And this…story isn’t merely a ploy intended to secure your release so that you can run off after Diana?”

“No.” In all the time he’d been a cat, he’d never realized just how satisfying a good tail lashing could be. If he moved it any faster, he was afraid it might come off his butt. “Would I do something like that?”

Arthur straightened, reached back, and adjusted his sword.“As I understand cats, yes, you would.”

“But I’m not!”

“And you heard this conversation with the mirror?” Arthur asked, flipping his hair back off his face as he turned to Stewart.

The mall elf froze in mid squeak of a rubber fire hydrant.“No words, sire, ’cause the mirror’s real small and it was down by him, not up with me, but I heard the talking.”

“Hey!” Sam drew the attention of both the Immortal King and the elf back to the crate. “You know I suck at lying. If I was any good at it, would I be in here?”

“You have a point,” Arthur acknowledged after a moment’s consideration.

“I have a whole lot of points,” Sam muttered, “and I know where they’ll hurt the most.”

Sapphire-blue eyes narrowed.“What was that?”

“Nothing. Look, it’s real simple. The bad guys have Diana. We have to rescue her.”

“We?”

“I’m smart enough to know when I need help. You can’t just leave her there! And what about Kris. You can’t leave her! You’re supposed to be this great leader, but isn’t abandoning your people a bad thing?”

“Yes.” Arthur bent and opened the crate.

“Finally.” Sam raced out and up onto a stack of dog food, reclaiming the high ground. “What convinced you?”

“With one Keeper taken and the other gone, the darkside will want to close the segue as soon as possible, before the light has a chance to send other wizards. In order to succeed, they must remove us. They will, therefore, be massing to attack. I have always preferred to attack on my terms, not the enemy’s.”

“I didn’t say any of that.”

“I know.”

“But Diana…”

“Will be freed when we defeat the darkside.”

Sam opened his mouth to ask what would happen if they didn’t defeat the darkside, but he closed it again when he realized he already knew the answer. And he didn’t like it much.

*

“What a lovely cat.”

Dean glanced down in time to see Austin pointedly cross to the other side of the dining room—as far from Meryat as he could get and still be contained within the same four walls.

“I don’t think he likes me.”

“Foolish kitty,” Dr. Rebik murmured, bringing the blackened tips of the mummy’s fingers to his lips.

Trying not to shudder, Dean developed a sudden interest in cleaning nothing off a spotless floor. He was doing his best to be open-minded about this—he was involved with an older woman himself—but he just couldn’t get past the reanimated corpse part of the relationship. When he straightened, all ancient digits were back within the masking folds of Meryat’s cloak and Dr. Rebik was finishing his oatmeal.

“As Meryat would like to remain here until your Keeper returns,” the archaeologist began, setting his spoon aside, “I was wondering, Mr. McIssac, if you could do me a favor.”

Ignoring Austin’s warning twitch, Dean nodded. “I’d be happy to.”

“It’s just I don’t have a lot of clothes with me and, were I to go out to a coin laundry, I’d have a choice of either not washing my trousers or not wearing them while they washed. And they do need washing.”

From what he could see of the cream-colored chinos, that was an unfortunately accurate observation.“I’d be happy to do a load for you. Put everything you want washed in one of the pillowcases and set it out in the hall.”

“Thank you, Mr. McIssac.” He set both palms against the tabletop and pushed himself to his feet, then tucked a hand under Meryat’s elbow to help her stand.

“Yes, Mr. McIssac.” The morning light illuminated the depths of her hood as she turned and Dean got an unwelcome education in what bits rotted away even in a very dry climate. The dark eyes looked out of place amidst the lack of cartilage and fat. “Thank you.”

He assumed she was smiling although the words“rictus grin” couldn’t help but come to mind. “You’re welcome.”

“You know,I was wondering something myself.”

All three heads rotated toward the cat, the new angle throwing Meryat’s face back into shadow.

“Why is it that you want to see the Keeper?” Austin continued, suddenly sitting at the end of the long table. Dr. Rebik looked startled, a ripple traveled the length of Meryat’s cloak, and Dean tried to pretend that he didn’t usually let the cat sit with the breakfast dishes. Not that “let the cat” was in any way pertinent to cats in general and this cat in particular. “She’s on assignment. You could have quite the wait.”

“I am willing to wait.” Meryat folded her hands into her sleeves. “I am hoping she will be able to give me back all I have lost.”

“You seem to be doing fine without her.”

“But so, so slowly. I look forward to the day when I can…”

“Rule the world?”

“Go out in public.”

Shooting a“now see what you’ve done” look at Austin and another at Dean, Dr. Rebik slipped his arm around Meryat’s bowed shoulders and led her from the room. During their slow shuffle down the hall and up the stairs, Dean loaded the dishwasher, swept the dining room floor, polished the table, and didhis best to ignore the expression on Austin’s face.

The distant sound of a door closing on the second floor brought the cat to his feet.“Convinced? It’s going too slowly and she needs to suck the life out of Claire to finish rebuilding herself.”

“I thought you said she was after sucking the life out of me.”

“Yeah, butslowly. She doesn’t want to spook Claire the moment she gets in the door. Trust me, Claire’ll notice if you’re a desiccated corpse propped up in the corner, but a couple of missing years’ll slip on by.”

“That’s reassuring.”

“Yeah, well she’s not going to be too happy that another woman’s su…”

His ears scarlet, Dean clamped a hand over the cat’s muzzle. “There was no one in the bedroom last night and you said Meryat was asleep when you heard something moving around the night before. Drop it. You’re imagining things. You’re some worried about Claire and it’s stressing you out. Giving you nightmares.”

He removed his hand.

Austin shook his whiskers back into place.“Cats don’t have nightmares,” he hissed. “Cats have premonitions of disaster, and I’m having one now. Gag me again, and you’ll lose the hand.”

*

“Stop touching me!”

“Sorry. It’s just this is a little…” Lance waved a hand at the milling herd of purple hippopotamuses. “…weird.”

“Yes, it is. But it’s only weird because you seem to be incapable of doing what you’re asked.”

“You told me to think about nothing.”

Claire slapped a hippo on the rump and moved it out of her way.“These aren’t nothing.”

“I tried to think about nothing, but that made me think of how difficult it was to think about nothing and that made me think about that whole ‘don’t think of a purple hippopotamus’ thing.”

“You know, I figured that out without the explanation.”

“How?”

She exchanged an exasperated look with a lavender cow.“It wasn’t hard. We’re in a herd of purple hippopotamuses. Who usually live in water. And aren’t purple.”

“I don’t see any doors.”

“Shut up and keep walking.” On the one hand, they were definitely back in the right Otherside so if nothing else, the last path took them closer to the mall. On the other hand, there was nothing like walking through a herd of herbivores in bare feet to put a person in a really, really bad mood.

*

“Where did you guys find armor in a department store?”

“Sporting Goods.” Will flipped his braid out from under the edge of his shoulder pads. “There’s enough hockey gear in there to outfit the entire NHL.”

“In June.”

The elf shrugged.“End of season sale?”

“Okay. That makes as much sense as anything else around here.” Sam tucked his tail carefully out of the way as more and more elves wearing hockey equipment returned to the area by the fire pit. “Now correct me if I’m wrong, which I’m not, but didn’t you guys used to be twenty-first-century street kids?”

“Yeah. So?”

“So how do you even know what armor is?”

“It’s all in the book, man.” Reaching behind him, he pulled out a familiar orange-and-blue book.

“The Dumbass Guide to Elvish Armor,” Sam read, squinting a little in the uncertain light.

“Kris found a bunch of these in the bookstore back in the day. You know, while we were still getting stomped by the bad guys. She usedThe Dumbass Guide to Not Getting Your Butts Kicked to start bringing us into one group. Then, when Arthur showed up, she checked him out againstThe Dumbass Guide to Leadership. Lately, we’ve been usingThe Dumbass Guide to Living in a Magical Freakin’ Shopping Mall as a kind of Bible.”

“Really?”

“Nah, I just like saying dumbass. We figured out the whole living in a shopping mall thing on our own.”

“What’s the skateboard for?”

“Sort of our version of cavalry.” He flipped the board up on end. “Makes us a lot faster than the meat-minds, more mobile. And it comes straight out ofThe Dumbass Guide to Making the Most of the Skills You Got Handy.”

Orange stripes folded into a“w” between Sam’s ears. “Really?”

Will grinned.“Man, you are one gullible cat.”

[Êàðòèíêà: img_5]

“Ow! Try walking on your own feet, why don’t you!”

“Sorry.” Adjusting her grip on Kris’ arm, Diana continued moving them as quickly as possible along the wall. As long as she didn’t lose the signature of her stuff, they were fine. Well, maybefine was stretching it a bit.

“I don’t see how you can be so freakin’ calm about this!” Kris ground out through what were clearly clenched teeth. “Fact, I don’tsee! I can’t see! We got shadows from Hell coming after us—really from Hell, not just from some bad-ass place people are calling Hell—and we can’t see squat because it’s pitch-black down here!”

“That’s one of the reasons I’m calm.”

“What is?”

“Shadows are impotent in total darkness. They lose all definition, all ability to act. In order to actually do anything to us, they’ll have to turn the lights back on. If I can see them, I can fight them.”

“’Cause you’re the most powerful Keeper in the world.”

“Yeah.”

The mall elf snorted.“Like I’m so impressed.”

“Look, you’ve got every right to be scared, but don’t take it out on me just because I’m the only one here.”

The only sound for a few long moments: the pounding of their hearts, the whisper of their breathing, the shuffle of shoes against a stone floor, the soft hiss of fingertips against a stone wall.

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay. I understand.”

“I still shouldn’t have said it.”

“I’m not arguing.”

“So what’s the other reason?”

“What?”

“You said that shadows what can’t get it up isone of the reasons you’re calm. What’s the other reason?”

Diana worked“shadows what can’t get it up” back to impotent and grinned. “Just that I’ve been training for this my whole life.”

“This?”

“Yeah.”

“Your whole life?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Damn. You must’ve gone to one bitch of a nursery school.”

“Fine. Not mywhole life.” Her right fingers ran out of wall. She braced her knee and reached around the corner. “Doorway.”

Kris leaned close enough to breathe a question into her ear.“Throne room?”

“With any luck.”

“Oh, yeah. And our luck has been so good.”

Reaching back, Diana stroked two fingers down the other girl’s cheek. “I’m not complaining.”

“Man, you are one cheap date.”

But she traced a smile before she took her fingers away. The silence on the other side of the doorway felt bigger, like it was filling more space. She counted thirty heartbeats, then sighed in relief.“I don’t hear anything. If we follow the wall around, we’ll eventually trip over the dais. Once I have my stuff, we’ll make a run for the access corridors. If we can get into the Emporium, I think we’ll be safe.”

“You think?”

“Jack said the big boss has never come out into the store.” Careful not to lose contact with the stone, she moved them through the doorway and along the wall of the room.

“Always a first time.”

“Here’s a thought. Why don’t you say something positive?”

“Positive?”

“Yeah, like not negative.” Diana rolled her eyes as the pause lengthened. Three steps. Four. Five…

“If memory serves, you got a wicked ass in those pants.”

Ears burning, she stumbled, recovered, and mumbled“Thank you.”

“So, about that training,” Kris prodded, sounding much happier. “Any actual experience?”

“I was with Claire when she closed Hell down the last time, I helped integrate a demon into a small town in northern Ontario, and I…”

“Hawaiian pizza!”

“That wasn’t me. And besides, what’s wrong with…”

“No! I can smell Hawaiian pizza!”

All at once, so could Diana. Spinning around, she scooped Kris’ feet out from under her and followed the mall elf to the floor.

Which was when the lights came on…

…and the Shadowlord smacked a large club against the wall right through the space they’d just vacated.

From her position half sprawled over Kris, Diana could see all four bugs and half a dozen meat-minds waiting motionless in front of the dais. Nearly motionless. One of the meat-minds was chewing in a decidedly guilty way.

Three guesses about what he’s eating, and the first two don’t count. Diana was fairly certain there were stranger things than feeling grateful to ham and pineapple in tomato sauce, but right at the moment she couldn’t think of any.

Grateful wasn’t even close to what the Shadowlord seemed to be feeling.

Pivoting away from the wall, he heaved his club at the chewing meat-mind and screamed,“I don’t care what your union says about lunch breaks!”

“Union?” Kris asked as the gnarled wood smacked meat-mind skull and the two girls scrambled to their feet.

“Otherworld Pan-dimensional Service Employees Union.”

“You’re fucking kidding me.”

“Yes. Run!”

*

“I’m glad to see you’re taking me seriously.”

Dean dropped the pillowcase into the washing machine.“How’s that?”

“I just saw you go through Dr. Rebik’s pockets.”

“And how is that taking you seriously?” he asked, reaching for the laundry detergent.

Austin jumped onto the dryer, walked over, and peered into the tub.“You’re looking for clues.”

“I’m looking for tissues.”

“To send away for forensic testing?”

“To keep from filling the washing machine with little bits of wet tissue.” He closed the lid, checked that the water temperature was on cold/cold, and started the timer. “I know I’ll be after regretting this, but what kind of clues did you think I’d find? If Meryat’s the bad guy…girl…”

“Corpse.”

Given the look he’d got at her face, that was hard to argue with. “…then isn’t Dr. Rebik the victim?”

“So?”

“So what kind of clues would he have in his pockets?”

“An amulet controlling his free will. A note written in a moment of clear-headedness begging for rescue. And maybe he’s not a victim at all; maybe he’s helping her in return for a slice of the world domination pie.”

“Maybe I should never have taped thatScooby Doo marathon for you.”

“He’s a dog,” Austin snorted, jumping down and following Dean up the basement stairs. “He’s not going to notice anything he didn’t sniff off someone’s butt.I’m telling you there was something in the bedroom last night and probably the night before!”

“Okay, let’s say there was.” Dean bent and lifted the cat up onto the kitchen counter, sanitary issues losing out over the inconvenience of holding a conversation with someone six feet closer to the floor. “But just because you sensed something, that doesn’t mean it was Meryat. It’s notlike this place hasn’t hadvisitors before. Ghosts, imps,” he added when Austin merely scowled at him.

“I knew what you meant; I just think you’re an idiot.” Sitting down, he swept his tail regally around in front of his paws. “I talked to the mice.”

After a moment spent trying to match up the end of that declaration to the beginning, Dean surrendered.“Okay.”

“The mice,” Austin told him in a tone that suggestedidiot was actually a little high on the scale,“said that the dead mouse I found in room two was just a kid; six months old, prime of his little rodent life.”

“And?”

“Oh, for the love of kibble, would you at least try to connect the dots!” Leaping to his feet, he paced to the end of the counter and back again, his tail covering twice the horizontal distance. “That mouse had his life sucked out right next to the mummy!”

“So you’re saying that sucking the life out of that mouse gave Meryat—who can barely walk at the best of times—enough energy to get downstairs and then back upstairs again moving so fast that you couldn’t see her? Some mouse.”

“You’re forgetting her visit to you. The mouse only had to get her downstairs.”

“And you don’t think I’d notice if a reanimated Egyptian mummy was su…” Cheeks flushed, he suddenly decided there’d been a little too much use of the verbto suck in recent conversations.“…absorbing my energy?”

“You spent six months not noticing a hole to Hell,” Austin muttered, “I’m not sure you’d notice if a reanimated Egyptian mummy was doing the Macarena.”

“Hey! I’d notice. Nobody does the Macarena anymore.”

“Oh, give her a break! She’s been dead for three thousand years, it takes a while to catch up.”

“If we’re talking three thousand years,” Dean snapped, “she’d be doing the hustle!”

The silence that followed was so complete, the distant sound of skateboarders in a neighbor’s pool came clearly though the open dining room windows.

“Dude, what’s with the water?”

After another long moment during which it became clear that neither skateboards nor skateboarders could float, Dean managed to find his voice.

“Did I just make a disco reference?”

Austin nodded.

“Lord t’underin’ Jesus.”

Austin nodded again.“If that’s not a sign there’s evil energies about, I don’t know what is.”

“Granted. But that still doesn’t mean it’s Meryat.”

“Why are you so resistant to the obvious?”

“Maybe I just like the thought of people being in love without any sucking going on!”

Oh, yeah. Definitely too much use of the verbto suck. He kind of wished he’d remembered that.

But all Austin said was,“I wish Claire was here.”

ELEVEN

[Êàðòèíêà: img_4]

CLAIRE CLOSED HER FINGERS just a little too tightly around Lance’s arm. They were standing at one end of a massive hall—although massive didn’t really do the place justice—on a pair of circles made of the only red tiles visible in a blue-and-gold mosaic floor. Just to be on the safe side, she looked up and breathed a sigh of relief. So far, no falling anvils. Behind them was a set of what looked like fifty-foot-high, solid gold doors. In front of them, a double line of huge pillars disappeared into the darkness above. If they were supporting a roof, Claire couldn’t see it. The walls behind the pillars appeared to be covered in tiny black dots although, given how far away they were, it was entirely possible they were covered in huge black dots. Light levels were comfortably bright in spite of no visible light source—which was hardly surprising as ambient light was the one thing pretty much every reality took a crack at. If she’d been inone cave with phosphorescent fungus, she’d been in fifty.

“So. Where are we?” she asked, a little surprised by how calm she sounded. They were no longer on the Otherside—either Otherside—that much and that much alone she was sure of. Well, that and how much she’d like to kick Lance.

“I don’t know!”

Not exactly a surprise.

“What were you thinking when we went through the door?” Maybe calm wasn’t exactly the right word.Tight was closer.

“That if I didn’t get it right this time, you were going to give me hell.”

“This isn’t Hell.”

“How can you be so sure?” Lance demanded, turning to stare down at her with wide eyes.

“It’s my job to be sure.”

“Of Hell?”

“Of what isn’t Hell.” While he was thinking about that, she turned to face the doors. Doors were doors. Fifty feet high and solid gold, two feet high at the end of a rabbit hole—it didn’t matter. If she could get them open and fit through over the threshold, she could use them. In this particular instance, getting them open might be tricky since the doorknobs were a good twenty feet above her head.

A quick glance around determined the area was unfortunately empty of a small table holding a bottle and a note that said,Drink me.

“Incoming!”

Does he have to sound so cheerful about it? Claire turned again and watched as two figures approached from the far end of the hall. Of course, since she couldn’t see the far end of the hall that was an assumption only. Wherever they’d come from, they were moving fast.

Very fast.

Impossibly fast.

One moment they were barely visible in the distance. The next, they were standing barely two meters away.

On the left stood a cat-headed woman, barely covered from neck to ankles in a sheer linen shift. Her fur was pale brown with darker fur outlining golden eyes, lighter fur around the mouth, and two large pointed ears; both pierced, with a small gold ring in each.

On the right, a jackal-headed man, naked to the waist, wearing a pleated linen skirt held in place by a wide leather belt. Two small metal disks, stamped with hieroglyphs, hung from the front of the belt.

Do not go there, Claire warned herself.It doesn’t matter what it looks like, just do notgo there.

“I know where we are,” Lance offered helpfully.

“So do I.” When PhD candidates in Egyptology thought about Hell, they didn’t think about Dante. Granted, neither did Keepers, but that was mostly because they preferred not thinking about hell at all and they sure as…heck…had no intention of handing it helpful definitions.

“They aren’t dead,” Anubis growled.

Bast shot him a disdainful golden glare.“And once again I marvel at your grasp of the obvious.”

“If they aren’t dead, why are they here?”

“Since they aren’t dead, why don’t we askthem? Or maybe you could fill in the details with a little butt sniffing.”

His eyes narrowed.“It doesn’t work that way.”

Claire bit her lip to keep from laughing. Apparently jackals were just as clueless about sarcasm as dogs. She’d seen Austin reduce Rottweilers to twitching bundles of confusion with only a few barbed comments about their bathroom habits. Of course, the chances were good Anubis didn’t drink out of the toilet.

As though thoughts of Austin had pulled her attention, Bast turned the full force of her golden gaze on Claire.“You’re a Keeper, but this isn’t one of the realities you Keep. Why are you here?”

Lesson number one in dealing with gods: don’t lie to them. “I’m trying to return to asituation on the Otherside, but circumstances have landed me with a Bystander and his thoughts keep turning the paths.”

And the corollary to lesson one: keep it simple.

The cat goddess glanced over at Lance.“He holds his thoughts strongly?”

“Oh, yeah. Once he gets something into his head you can’t shift it.”

And right on cue:

“I know why we’re here. This is Meryat’s work! She’s trying to stop me from stopping her by sending me to the Hall of Osiris!”

“Lance…”

“No! It all makes perfect sense!” He gripped her shoulder with one hand and waved the other around the Hall. “She’s trying to cheat the afterlife by sending me…us…in her place.”

“When the ka is strong enough…” Bast began.

“This ka has been bound between life and death for three thousand years,” Lance interrupted. He ignored Claire’s elbow in his ribs—interrupting gods was never a smart action in her experience—and continued. “As soon as it was freed, it sucked the life out of Dr. Rebik.”

Anubis shrugged.“It happens.”

“It does?”

“Sure. Not as much as it used to, though.”

“But that’s not what happened this time,” Claire insisted. “I don’t know about Dr. Rebik and the life-sucking part…” Although, given that Meryat was staying at the guest house, she really hoped Dean was right and Lance’s lunatic theories were just that. Lunatic. Shehad to get back to the mall and Diana, so she’d have to trust Austin to keep Dean safe. “…but I do know exactly why we’re here.” She pointed at Lance. “Bystander. Path. Idiot.”

Bast nodded, gold ring swinging as she flicked her ear.“I believe you. After three thousand years, this Meryat would have to absorb a truly powerful ka, the ka of a Keeper, say, in order to have enough strength to rip the veil between the world of the living and the world of the dead.”

The pieces began to fall together. If Meryat would be that strong after absorbing the ka of a Keeper…“She’s waiting for me to return to the guest house. Dean’s safe enough until I get back, and then she’ll take him in order to take me.”

“I can stop her.”

Claire turned to glare at Lance.“You’re not there. And unless you get a grip on your thought processes, you may never be there!”

“That’s not our concern,” Bast pointed out a little sharply.

Right. Don’t ignore the cat goddess…

“No, it’s not your concern, and I apologize for taking up your time. If you can point us to a door, we’ll be on our way.”

Anubis pointed over Claire’s shoulder.

Right.“A smaller door?”

“That’s the only door in the Hall of Osiris and only Osiris himself can open it. If you were dead, we’d take you before Osiris to be judged, but since you’re not dead…” His muzzle wrinkled as he tried to work it out.

Bast sighed.“Dead or alive, it doesn’t matter; in order to leave the Hall, they have to be taken before Osiris.”

“But we’re only supposed to escort the dead. We could kill them,” he added, looking hopeful. At least Claire thought it was hopeful; she wasn’t too good at reading jackal physiognomy.

“Or we could just escort them to Osiris and let him work it out.”

“I’d be honored to meet the Lord Osiris!” Lance declared, striding half a dozen quick steps forward and five back. “He’d appreciate my plan for dealing with Meryat! I could show him my thesis! No, wait.” He bounced up and down on the balls of his feet. “I don’t have my thesis with me!”

“Does he exclaim everything he says?” Bast asked Claire her ears slightly saddled.

“Pretty much.”

“We could just killhim if you like. No bother.”

Without Lance, the next door would take her back to the mall. The door after that, back to Dean.“Thank you for the offer.” And she meant that sincerely. “It’s tempting, but Lance knows how to deal with Meryat and besides—that whole Keeper thing—I’m not allowed to have even the most irritating Bystander put down.”

“Pity.”

“Sometimes.”

It was a long walk to the other end of the Hall. The tiles were cool underfoot and it would have been a pleasant journey but for the heavy scent of embalming spices in the air and the sound of distant lamentation that started up the moment they’d both left the squares of red tile. At that, the lamentations were preferable to Lance’s running commentary on the Egyptian afterlife.

When Bast’s ears flattened against her skull, Claire grabbed Lance by his much less indicative ear and yanked his head down beside hers. “I’ve come to realize that telling you to shut up doesn’t work, so instead I want you to remember everything you’ve ever heard about the dangers of pissing off gods.” Not to mention cats. “Remember that the gods are invariably described as cruel and capricious and remember that everything you’ve ever learned about them is true.”

“But a lot of the information contradicts…”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“But…”

“It’sall true.”

“Even…”

“All of it.”

He straightened rubbing his ear.“So you’re saying I should shut up?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.”

For a while, Lance and Anubis walked on ahead, circled around, walked with them for a few paces, walked on ahead, and Claire finally realized what Lance reminded her of. A half-grown, golden retriever puppy.

“His heart’s in the right place,” Bast murmured.

Claire waited.

The cat goddess didn’t disappoint.

“That’ll make it a lot easier to remove.”

About the time they began to see their destination at the far end of the Hall—although it was still little more than a big golden wall with some smaller unidentifiable things in front of it—Lance returned to walk by her side, allowing the two gods to lead them the rest of the way into Osiris’ presence.

“When we arrive,” Bast announced as it became obvious that one of the distant objects was a huge throne, “I’ll do the talking.”

Anubis turned his head far enough for Claire to see a flash of teeth.“Why?”

“Because you’ve been known to leave out important bits of information about the deceased, and it would be unfortunate if that happened this time.”

“Unfortunate?”

“Very.”

“Why? Dead’s dead.”

“These two are alive.”

“Oh, yeah…”

“They’re not how I imagined gods,” Lance said almost quietly.

Claire shrugged. She didn’t want to get into it.

“I mean, they look like gods,” Lance continued, clearly not picking up the subtext, “but they don’t sound like gods. First of all, they use contractions.”

That was unexpected enough to get Claire’s attention. “What?”

“Contractions. You know; don’t instead of do not. Or we’re instead of we are. Or…”

“I know what a contraction is.”

“They use them.”

“So?”

He exhaled explosively.“So who ever heard of a god using contractions? It just isn’t godlike.”

Claire’d heard of gods who took their own names in vain three words out of seven, but she decided not to mention that to Lance. “What’s second?” When he looked confused—well, more confused than usual—she expanded the question. “You said‘first of all,’ so there must be at least a second.”

“Right!”

And the exclamations were back.

“It’s the two of them, the way they interact. They’re likeRuff and Ready!”

“Who?”

“You know; the cartoon!” Waving his hands from side to side, sketching out the beat, Lance sang, “They’re Ruff and Ready. Always Ruff and Ready. They sometimes have their little spats, even fight like d…”

Up onto her toes, she got her hand over his mouth just in time. Anubis was showing rather a lot of teeth, and Bast’s ears were flat against her skull while the triangle of fur that touched the top of her spine had lifted. Lesson…actually, Claire’d lost track at this point, but it had to be around lesson seven or eight in dealing with gods. Do notever compare them to cartoon animals.

“Please…” No power, just a heartfelt plea. “…ignore him. He’s just a Bystander.”

“He is…”

“…annoying.” Anubis finished, the word emerging as one, long growl.

“I know. But we’ll be gone soon and—gross!” She snatched her hand away and wiped it on her skirt. “You licked me!”

Lance grinned down at her.“It worked.”

“How’d she taste?”

Bast and Claire turned as one toward the jackal-headed god.

“How did she taste?” Bast demanded.

Anubis shrugged.“I’m just curious.”

“Pretty good,” Lance allowed thoughtfully. “A little salty.”

His muzzle wrinkled as Anubis took a step toward her, and Claire was ninety percent sure she was about to be licked again.Oh that’s just great. I am sonot a dog person.

Bast’s hand on his arm yanked him to a halt. “The Lord Osiris is waiting.”

Sure enough, there was now a figure sitting on the distant throne.

Sighing deeply, Anubis began walking again.“You never let me have any fun.”

“Oh, yeah? Who throws all those damned balls for you?”

Instead of growing larger, the throne grew smaller as they approached until it, and the male figure sitting upon it, were only slightly bigger than the human norm. Osiris wore a pleated linen skirt similar to Anubis’ but with a cloth-of-gold overskirt. Gold sandals laced up around muscular calves, and a huge gold-and-obsidian collar rested on broad shoulders over impressive pecs. In spite of the traditional stick-on beard, the god of the underworld was a piece, no question about it, although Claire was fairly sure she’d seen the same outfit while closing an accident site at the Pyramid Club in Las Vegas.

Before either of their guides could speak, Lance pulled his PDA from its belt pouch, hit a quick sequence of keys, and read, in what Claire assumed was ancient Egyptian,“Praise be unto thee, O Osiris, lord of eternity, Un-nefer, Heru-Khuti, whose forms are manifold and whose attributes are majestic. It’s a hymn to Osiris from the Book of the Dead,” he added, sotto voce in English. “I’ve got the whole thing in here! Had to get extra memory! It goes on fora bit.”

“I think you hit the high points.”

“You understood that?”

“It’s a Keeper thing.” One golden-shod foot had begun to tap. “I’ll explain later. Why don’t we let Bast speak now?”

“Why do you needme?” Bast wondered pointedly. “You seem to be doing sowell on yourown.”

Seventeen years with Austin had given Claire seventeen years of practice groveling, and a cat goddess was by no means as picky an audience as an actual cat—particularly one who’d accidentally been shut outside in the rain. Austin had made her pay, and pay, and pay for days, but by the time Bast turned to Osiris, she was almost purring.

Claire tuned out the story of their arrival in the Hall and worried about Dean instead. It was her fault he was in danger, her fault he might get his life sucked out by a reanimated Egyptian mummy. Women who went away on business and only worried about the man they left behind compulsively gambling away their savings or getting involved with the floozy at the coffee shop had no idea how good they had it. At least they had better-than-average odds that the man they loved wouldn’t end up as bait in a deadly plot that involved power sucking and world domination. Well, better than average odds everywhere but New York and LA.

“It has been a long time since the living came to my Hall,” Osiris said thoughtfully as Bast finished. His voice reminded Claire of that velvet glove/iron fist combination and while he was speaking, she couldn’t take her eyes off him. “You are not on the Otherside, Keeper. You could reach into the possibilities here. Why haven’t you?”

“This is your domain, Lord Osiris. To breach your parameters would be at best very stupid and at worst, incredibly rude.”

He frowned.“Don’t you mean that the other way around?”

“No. It’s a Canadian thing,” she added when he continued to look confused. “Lord Osiris, all we want to do is to leave. I’m in the middle of trying to stop a shopping mall from taking over the world, and Lance here…”

“Isis embraceth thee in peace and she driveth away the fiends from the mouth of thy paths.”

“Not now, Lance.”

“If not now, when?” he asked.

Claire admitted he had a point. Unfortunately, she had no idea how long they’d been traveling as her watch had stopped working between the beach and the hippos and she couldn’t risk squandering the time. “Probably never. Sorry. Lord Osiris, if you could point us toward a door…”

“Unfortunately, there is only one door out of my Hall and to go through it, you must be judged.”

“But we’re not dead.”

“I would so have remembered to tell him that,” Anubis muttered.

“Living or dead, it doesn’t matter,” Osiris pointed out. “Judgment is the only way out. One at a time, your hearts will be weighed against a single feather. If your heart is lighter than the feather, you will be declaredmaa kheru and the door will be opened. If it is heavier, then you stand condemned and will be devoured…” He gestured toward a triangle of deep shadow to the left of his throne. “…by the Eater of the Dead.”

“But we’re not dead,” Claire repeated, enunciating carefully.

NOT A PROBLEM. I’LL FIGURE SOMETHING OUT.

“Claire?” Lance grabbed her shoulder and shook her hard enough to rattle her teeth. “Your mouth is open.”

She closed it. Opened it. Closed it again.“What are you doing here?” she demanded at last.

DARKNESS. CONDEMNED SOULS. I GET AROUND.

“Obviously.”

I KNOW SOMETHING YOU DON’T.

Claire snorted. Only a rookie would fall for that.

IT’S ABOUT YOUR LITTLE SISTER.

Her toes were at the edge of the shadow before she was even aware of moving.“You stay away from my sister!”

OH, I’M SO SCARED. MAKE ME.

About to reach into the possibilities, Osiris’ voice snapped her back into reason. “You two know each other?”

“We’ve met.” Walking carefully, deliberately, back to Lance’s side, Claire turned on one bare heel and glared at the shadow. “Last couple of times it happened, I kicked metaphorical ass.”

YOU KNOW WHAT THEY SAY, THIRD TIME LUCKY.

“Really? You know what else they say?” She folded the fingers of her right hand into an “L” and tapped it against her forehead. “Loser. Loser. Loser.”

“Keeper!” The Lord of Judgment’s voice had picked a tone somewhere between Darth Vader and her mother. “Stop taunting the Eater of the Dead.”

“Sorry.”

YOU WILL BE.

“And that’s enough out of you as well.” Osiris stepped down off the throne, his size changing from gigantic to merely tall. “Anubis, bring out the scales.”

Claire didn’t exactly catch where Anubis brought the scales out from. It appeared between one heartbeat and the next, the onyx center post exactly as tall as Osiris, the onyx arms, the same measure. Shallow golden bowls hung at the end of golden chains.

“Thou turnest thy face upon Amentet and thou makest the earth to shine as with refined copper.”

“Lance, what are you doing?”

He lifted his eyes from the small screen.“Sucking up!”

This had to be the most sensible thing he’d said since the beach. “Carry on.”

“Those who have lain down, rise up to see thee, they breathe the air and they look upon girls, girls, girls. You wanna see girls? We got the best at www.ohmama.com. Wait a minute, that last bit’s something else I downloaded!”

“I guessed.”

“How’d it get into this file?”

“Shut up, Lance.”

“But I have more!”

It was always hard to tell with anthropomorphic personifications of gods, but the expression on Osiris’ face was making Claire just a little nervous. “No, really, Lance, shut up.”

Maybe she’d finally reached the magic number. Maybe he was trying for a satellite uplink. Whatever the reason, he actually stopped talking.

“Bast. The feather.”

Bast pulled a white feather from the air and laid it in one of the shallow bowls.

“This feather is from the Sacred Ibis.” Osiris shot Bast a look as he spoke. Claire knew that look although the accompanying dialogue had goneThis feather is from Mrs. Griffon’s canary!“Who will go first to judgment?”

“I will!”

When Osiris turned his dark gaze on her, Claire realized she must have made some small sound of protest. But did it really matter which of them went first? This wasn’t something she could protect a Bystander from and, who knew, maybe enthusiasm would count for something. Still…“If he passes and I don’t, do I have your word you’ll send him home? Tohis home,” she added hastily. Rule whatever—be specific.

“You have my word,” Osiris answered solemnly.

“Good enough.”

Anubis beckoned Lance forward.

“This is amazing! I mean you can read about this sort of thing and study it, but to actually be a part of…”

The jackal-headed god’s hand sank into Lance’s chest and emerged clutching his beating heart.

“…ow! You know, I thought this would be a little more metaphorical!”

Osiris shrugged.“I weigh your heart against a feather. Seems fairly straightforward to me. Anubis…”

Lance’s heart landed in one of the shallow bowls with a moist thud as Osiris laid the feather in the other. The scales began to shift.

“Wait a minute! That’s my…” Pale blue eyes rolled up so only the whites showed.

Claire danced back as Lance hit the floor.“You know, up until now, he’d been taking this whole experience annoyingly well.”

“He’s not the first fainter we’ve had,” Osiris said matter-of-factly as he watched the bowl holding Lance’s heart begin to rise. “He’ll be fine once he gets his heart back. I’m getting the impression he doesn’t worry about much,” he added as the feather continued to drop. “He treats his life as a series of grand adventures; this one merely a little more grand than usual. Besides, I can feel a place where his ka was brushed by a dark ka. As long as that shadow remains, he’ll be…”