Claire stepped back and motioned her sister inside. “I don’t want to. I don’t care. And what are you talking about?”
“Nail polish remover is like, so toxic.” She turned on the threshold to wave at Mrs. Abrams and Baby, then bounded inside. “Nice paint job. Forest green. Very trendy. Hey, Austin.”
He lifted his head, sighed deeply, and let it fall back to the countertop. “Shoot me now.”
ANOTHER KEEPER!
IT’S A CHILD. KEEP YOUR MIND ON YOUR WORK.
BUT THERE’S TWO OF THEM!
AND THERE’S VERY NEARLY AN INFINITE AMOUNT OF ME.
The rest of Hell considered the implied threat. GOOD POINT.
“Diana, why are you here?”
“I’m needed.”
“For what?”
“I’m a Keeper.” She ducked under the flap into the office. “We go where we’re summoned, and I was summoned here.”
“Here?”
“Uh-huh. Right here. Are you still using this old computer? You must’ve bought it, what, two, three years ago?”
“Three and a half, and don’t touch it”
“Chill, I’m not going to hurt it.” She tapped lightly on the monitor. “Oops.” At Claire’s low growl, she grinned. “Kidding. It’s not even turned on.”
“Diana.”
“What?”
Claire took a deep breath and tried to remember where the conversation had diverged from the important questions. “Do Mom and Dad know you’re here?”
“No. I snuck out in the middle of the night.” Diana rolled her eyes. “Of course they know I’m here. They’re Cousins. I’m a Keeper. And, at the irritating risk of repeating myself, I was summoned.”
“All right. You were summoned. So?”
“So I guess I’m here to help you.”
“You want to help?” Austin muttered. “Take a man off her hands.”
“As if. Didn’t Mom tell you? I’m a lesbian.”
Claire sighed. “Isn’t everyone?”
“You know, Claire…” Arms folded over her black jean jacket, Diana’s eyes narrowed. “…I get the feeling you’re not happy to see me.”
“It’s just…”
“…that the thought of you and Hell in the same building is enough to give anyone with half a brain serious palpitations,” Austin finished.
“No problem.” Diana raised both hands to shoulder height, backpack sliding down her arm to swing in the crook of her elbow. “I solemnly swear to stay away from the furnace room. Now are you happy to see me?”
Claire’s better judgment suggested she send Diana home immediately, summons or no summons. She had no idea what part of her kept repeating, but she’s your kid sister, as though that had any relevance at all. Whatever part it turned out to be, it was doing a good job of drowning out her common sense. “All right I’m happy to see you. Now what?”
“Now, you give me the guided tour.”
There was a soccer game on in her sitting room; a dozen guys in green and white appeared to be running circles around a dozen guys in red and black. Claire wasn’t even certain that they’d played soccer in Canada when Jacques died, but he was interested enough in this particular match that he’d faded out until only a faint distortion remained in the air above the sofa.
“Imbecile!”
Claire’d been half hoping he wouldn’t be there at all, but since he was, and since she couldn’t come up with any kind of a believable reason for him not to meet her sister, she called his name.
“Do you see that? The ball goes right by him, but he does not move to kicks it!”
“Kick it.”
“Tabernac! Qui t’a dit que tu puissejouer a balle?”
“Jacques, there’s someone here who wants to meet you.”
He snorted. “Why not? These people, they are asleep!”
Reaching past him, Claire picked up the remote and muted the TV. “Could you focus?”
“Focus?” He looked down through himself. “Ah, d’accord.”
By the time Diana came into the room, his edges had firmed up. His eyes widened and he walked through the sofa toward her. “Another Keeper? And so young and beautiful.”
Recognizing the reaction, Claire sighed. “Jacques, this is my sister Diana.”
“Diana, fair huntress of the bow. Although,” he added thoughtfully, “given how the rest have fallen, no doubt she is now fat and old.”
“What are you talking about?”
“It’s a long story,” Claire answered before Jacques had a chance. “There, you’ve met him. Let’s leave, so he can get back to his game.”
Jacques glanced speculatively at her through his lashes. “Are you ashamed of me, cherie?”
“It’s not you,” Diana told him. “It’s me.”
“I’m going to the kitchen for a coffee, you kids have a blast working it out. Wait a minute!” Claire jabbed a finger in her sister’s direction. “You just forget I said the word blast.”
The coffee helped. Claire sank into her regular chair at the dining room table and took another long swallow. Showing Diana the hotel had been exhausting. When they ended up in front of room six for the second time, Claire had accused her sister of clouding her mind. The resultant denials had lasted down all three flights of stairs and had been no more believable in the lobby than they had originally.
She’d emptied the mug and begun worrying about what Jacques and Diana were discussing when Dean’s truck drove up. The feeling of impending doom returned. All the hair on her body standing uncomfortably on end, she hurried outside, ostensibly to help him carry in the groceries.
Reaching past him for a pair of canvas bags, she tried to sound nonchalant as she asked if he was all right.
“Sure.”
He sounded all right; depressed maybe, but not doomed. She checked for the taint of dark or eldritch powers and found only that frozen peas were on sale for a dollar thirty-nine. “No trouble at the grocery store?”
“No.”
“No trouble with the truck?”
“No.” Dean held open the back door and stood aside so Claire could enter the building first. “What’s the matter?”
“I don’t know.”
“Okay. I understand now why you don’t trust me.”
Teeth gritted, she put the bags down and turned to face him. “No, really, I don’t know.”
“She doesn’t know why I’m here? Or she doesn’t know when I’m leaving? Which?”
Claire’s nostrils flared. She’d intended to tell Dean about her premonition but not in front of her sister. Diana in the same room with impending doom practically guaranteed Armageddon. “She’ll be leaving on Sunday night because she’s got school on Monday morning and she’s already missed too much of it this year. Dean, this is my sister Diana.”
“Hey.” She waggled a hand in an exaggerated wave.
It was the first time Dean had felt like smiling all morning. Although the sisters looked superficially alike—dark hair and eyes, short and thin—energy popped and fizzed around Diana as though she’d been carbonated. “Hi.”
“So you’re from Newfoundland?”
“That’s right.” Picking up the bag with the produce, he began putting things away.
“I’ve never been there.”
“You’d have noticed,” Claire added, passing over a package of luncheon meat.
“So.” Diana picked up a loaf of bread and examined it critically. “Did you always want to work in a hotel?”
“No. I just needed a job.”
“I hear Augustus Smythe was a real tyrant.”
“He wasn’t so bad.”
“Worse than Claire?”
He stared down into a net bag of cooking onions. “Different.”
“Still, I guess you get to meet a lot of interesting people working here. Vampires and werewolves and…Ow! Claire!”
They were standing about ten feet apart but, obviously, that hadn’t been far enough. Dean had no idea of what was going on and no intention of getting between them. “Yeah,” he said, folding the bags and putting them away, “lots of interesting people.”