Long Hot Summoning (20 page)

“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 they
were
holding us?”

“Because we believed they would.” It was
twistier
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 decor. “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’t
want
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 it
was
shadow and it
was
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. “Then
back
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 totally
mental
?”

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.