“Claire’s her daughter!” Which was the absolute truth. Maybe not the whole truth but the truth, so with any luck at all, that whole lousy lying thing wouldn’t come into it.
Nine rings. Ten. Eleven. Twelve.
“This grows very annoying. Go!” A fingernail flew off with the expansive force of her gesture. “Answer it!”
Dean took two grateful steps toward the office.
“Mr. McIssac, aren’t you forgetting something?”
Biting back a curse, he returned for the hockey bag.
Thirteen rings. Fourteen. Fifteen.
Closely followed by Meryat and Dr. Rebik—too closely followed as far as Dean was concerned—he set the bag on the desk and reached for the phone.
Sixteen.
“Elysian Fields Guest House.”
“Dean, it’s Martha Hansen. I’ve got this terrible feeling that the girls are in trouble. Not that the girls being in trouble is ever a good feeling, but this is remarkably strong considering that they’re still on the Otherside and I’m worried. You haven’t heard from them, have you? That’s not why you were so long answering?”
“Uh, no, it’s not.” He had no idea what, if anything a Cousin could do over the phone, but this was his one chance to get help. “You just called at a bad time. There’s…”
“…no need for further explanations,” Meryat said as Dr. Rebik’s shaking finger came down on the disconnect. “The noise has been stopped, and we have business to conclude.” She glanced around the office, and her eyes narrowed. “Although this is not the best place; we could be interrupted, and that has already happened once too often.”
Dean suddenly realized she wasn’t talking about the phone. “Lance.”
“Yes. When my binding came undone, he was partially caught by my counterspell. It seems to have unbalanced him.”
“He’s not Australian,” Dr. Rebik announced calmly.
Meryat rolled her eyes.“He might as well be. Now then, I think we’ll take this someplace more private.” Her gaze traveled slowly down the length of Dean’s body and he shuddered. Before Claire and he had…created an angel, he’d never noticed that sort of thing. After, he realized—to his intense embarrassment—it had happened a lot. “Let’s go to your bedroom.”
Suddenly, being a statue didn’t look like such a bad future.
He only hoped Claire remembered to dust him.
*
Claire stifled a sneeze against her shoulder unable to believe the amount of dust in the dropped ceiling. She stopped herself from wondering where it came from before the Otherside provided an answer, and concentrated on crawling after Teemo’s narrow backside.
Fortunately, Diana had already taken this route, so she didn’t need to worry about securing its reality.
The drop down into the bathroom was a little farther than she was comfortable with. One foot slid off the edge of the soap dispenser and into the sink, but Kith steadied her as she landed, averting disaster with a steady grip above both knees.
The room smelled of cleaners and disinfectants, and all at once she missed Dean so badly it was like a physical ache. In fact, it wasn’tlike a physical ache at all. It was a physical ache. Austin would do what he could, but a reanimated mummy was a just a little beyond what snark and sympathy could hope to deal with.
She had to defeat the darkside and return to them before it was too late. Or get Lance to them if that was all she could manage.
Save the world.
Save Diana.
Save Dean.
At least this time, there’d be no nasty surprises in the final inning.
And that was an unprovoked sports metaphor. Even her subconscious missed Dean. At one time, she’d thought maintaining a relationship would be a distraction. It wasn’t, it was a goal. Something she could use as incentive to charge right through the worst the possibilities could offer.
Memo to self, she sighed, following Kith and Teemo out into the hall,watch a little less Oprah with the cat.
They were almost to the food court when a rumble of thunder flattened them back against the wall, Teemo raising an unnecessary finger to his lips.
No. Not thunder. Meat-minds. A whole herd of them pounding purposefully past the food court in ranks that were more or less even. Claire thought very hard about saving the world; thinking about how clumsy they looked would only set up a chain reaction of vaudevillian proportions and give away their position.
Bringing up the rear between four meat-minds more defined than the rest was a vaguely familiar warrior dressed and armored all in black. His skin was milk pale and his hair a deep red. Really red. Blood red. Bad fantasy clich? red.
That couldn’t be good. Claire sent a silent plea that Sam remembered what he had to do.
On the bright side, if their leader had taken the field, both Diana and the segue would be minimally guarded. Pulling Kith and Teemo closer, she whispered,“From here, I go on alone.”
“No way, Keeper. Arthur…”
“…is going to need you. You saw the size of the army he’s facing; pull some weapons from that sporting goods store, and attack from the rear. Remember, as soon as I shut down the segue, the meat-minds will fall apart, so you don’t have to win so much as you have to not lose.”
“What?”
Okay. That hadn’t made a lot of sense to her either. “Look, I usually work alone. I clearly suck at motivational speaking. Just be careful.” She put a hand on each of their shoulders, squeezed lightly, then turned and raced down the hall toward the Emporium.
They hadn’t come through the store. The plywood construction barricade was gone; in its place was a dark tunnel leading down under the mall.
Only one meat-mind on guard.
He saw her, turned, and, because she believed he would, tripped over his own feet.
Getting past him was as easy as dropping a marble on his head.
The passage ended in what was obviously a throne room. Kicking through bits of shattered chitin, Claire approached the dais where she found, amid the broken insect bits, a tampon lying crushed and forgotten.
Diana.
She paused and quickly checked her memory of the charging meat-mind army. Well, the odds were very good it was Diana’s anyway.
A few scorch marks against the polished stone showed where preset possibilities had been destroyed. None of them looked large enough or scorched enough to have been the wand.
Then there was a chance Diana still had it.
Definitely a good news/bad news scenario.
Only one exit from the throne room. A stone corridor leading even farther down. The moment she stepped into it, Claire felt a familiar pull.
Running as quietly as she could under the flickering torches, Claire hurried toward it. This wasn’t her Summoning. She shouldn’t be feeling a pull, familiar or otherwise.
It was possible that she was sensing Diana’s presence by the segue.
But she didn’t think so.
FOURTEEN
[Êàðòèíêà: img_4]
DIANA COULD FEEL THE POWER FLUCTUATIONS. They filled the cavern, rippling from side to side, up and down, raising all the hair on her body. Not exactly a pleasant feeling. They were strong enough that she suspected she could see them if she just unfocused her eyes the right way.
The good news was they weren’t all coming from the pit.
Most, but not all.
Some of them were coming from her.
Some from outside the cavern.
She felt it the moment the armies joined. Felt it as the weight of Hell’s attention grew lighter. Soon.
Only one small problem.
She stood, stretched, and beckoned for Kris to join her.“There’s a few thing I’d like to do before we die.”
Which was the absolute truth and always the best way to deal with Hell. No point playing in its court.
I’M SURE THERE ARE, Hell snarked as Kris put her hand in Diana’s and allowed herself to be pulled to her feet. BUT YOU CAN’T DESTROY ME, AND IF YOU TRY, I WILL MAKE YOU VERY VERY SORRY. I NEED YOU ALIVE AS BAIT, BUT I DO NOT NEED YOU UNHARMED.
Hands on Kris’ hips, Diana snorted in the general direction of the pit. “It’s not always about you, dude.”