Chronicles Of The Keeper - The Long Hot Summoning Part 18

"The forces of darkness are throwing scented candles!"

"Yeah, but they're throwing them really hard. And besides, you know as well as I do how fast things can change on the Otherside." Diana patted Claire's bare shoulder in a comforting sort of way and turned back to Kris. "So, take us to your leader. He is your leader, right?"

Claire sighed. "Well, if he isn't, you've just wasted that line."

"He is our leader," Kris told them, and this time when she indicated they should start moving, there was very little room for arguing with the gesture.

As the Keepers stepped away from the barricade and Sam jumped down to walk between them, Will fell in on one side, Kris on the other. They were clearly being escorted. Diana decided to think of it as an honor guard.

"So," she prodded after a moment. "This Arthur; what's he like?"

Kris glanced over at her and shrugged. "Not like us."

"Like you are or like you were?"

"What's the diff?"

"You know; the whole ears, thick flowing tresses thing."

"The what?"

Bystanders could lie to Keepers; they just couldn't get away with it. Kris honestly didn't know what Diana was talking about. Apparently their perception of themselves had changed as they had changed. Now why they'd changed the way they had; that was a whole different question without an answer. "Never mind, it's not important. So, how is Arthur different from you?"

"He came from outside."

"Outside?" Diana was beginning to have a bad feeling about this.

"Yeah, outside the mall." Kris waved to the tall, slender girl standing guard at the intersection of the main concourse and the short hall leading to one of the outside doors. "We don't know how he got in, 'cause we can't get out, but he understands this place. He keeps us together; he made us strong. We were getting our a.s.ses kicked by all sorts of strange s.h.i.+t until he showed up."

"And he made you the captain of his guard?"

"Yeah. He did. You got a problem with that?"

"No. Of course not. You're obviously really good at it and you, you know, you're in charge and urn . . ." Babble much? She's going to think you're an idiot. Get a grip! Diana took a deep breath and ignored Claire's raised eyebrow. "So, were you the first one who crossed over?" A muscle jumped in Kris' jaw. "Second." Something in her tone made Diana remember all the things Austin had listed that were worse than BAM. Splat. Crunch. Grind. Chew. For some reason, especially chew.

They were heading toward the large department store at what had been the west end of the mall. Cosmetic counters had been stacked on their sides to make a solid wall across all but a small section of the store's wide entrance. A nod of Kris's head and Will lounged in the opening.

"Just so you know," Claire said, delivering a speaking look to her sister, "you can't hold us."

Kris shrugged. "Just so's you know, I'm not planning on it. But I believe in coverin' my a.s.s, just in case."

"Of what?"

"Whatever." She led Diana, Claire, and Sam into a large open area where the faint, antagonistic scents of a dozen different perfumes lingered, told them to wait, and disappeared between two racks of plus size winter coats.

"You know they might be able to hold us," Diana murmured, with a quick glance at Will's back. "This being the Otherside and all. If there's enough of them wanting us held . . ."

"You were the one who wanted to see their leader. I just think we should go in from a position of strength."

"They had to rescue us from walking cat food throwing scented candles," Sam pointed out, tail las.h.i.+ng as he paced the perimeter. "Oh, yeah, that's a position of strength."

Claire glared at the cat.

Diana punched her lightly on the arm. "Missing Austin?"

Claire s.h.i.+fted her glare up and over. After a moment, she sighed. "Yes. A lot. I hope he's all right."

"Don't worry, he's with Dean. On second thought, worry about Dean."

"Very funny. I'm sure Austin will be a huge help to Dean at the guest house."

"You're delusional. You know that, right?"

Claire smiled tightly. "It helps when you work with cats."

They watched Sam explore nooks and crannies they couldn't see and listened to the distant sound of someone beating a drum kit to death with a couple of guitars and an electronic keyboard.

"So, Arthur," Diana said at last, rubbing her nose and moving away from a particularly strong patch of Phobia for Men. "He came in from outside the mall to bring them together and make them strong."

"The name could be a coincidence."

"Oh, please."

Claire sighed as deeply as the weight of her backpack allowed. "They needed a leader; he's what their subconscious created."

Fur between his eyes folded into a darker orange "w," Sam frowned up at them both. "Do you guys know this Arthur?"

"Not this Arthur, but he's just the sort of opportunistic archetype who'd show up in this kind of story. And you never just get him, do you?" Her own brow furrowed, Diana folded her arms.

"We should be glad they're not a little younger," Claire reminded her. "Or we might have been dealing with Peter Pan."

"Yeah, but they've turned themselves into elves. Wouldn't Oberon make more sense?"

"I doubt this lot's read much Shakespeare, but you have; you'd honestly rather deal with Oberon?"

Diana considered it for a moment. "Okay, good point. a.s.s ears; not a great look. But still, that whole Immortal King c.r.a.p just gets up my nose. Follow me, serve me, love me . . . gag me!"

"Your opinion aside, Arthur is a nice, cla.s.sic, archetypal answer to a leaders.h.i.+p dilemma."

Arthur turned out to be a tall, broad-shouldered, narrow-hipped young man in his late teens with startlingly blue eyes and a wild shock of blue-black hair that kept falling attractively forward over his face in spite of a silver circlet.

"Okay," Claire said slowly as they walked toward him, drawn by the brilliant, perfect white crescent of his smile. "So he's a nice anime archetypal answer to a leaders.h.i.+p dilemma."

"And we can be grateful they're becoming elves, not pokemon," Diana added.

Dressed in black and silver-jeans, boots, T-s.h.i.+rt, leather jacket, lots of buckles, and wearing a very large sword across his back, he waited for them in the electronics section of the department store. The sword, at least, should have looked out of place. It didn't.

A burgundy leather sofa and two matching chairs, heavy on the rivets, defined three sides of the s.p.a.ce.