Chronicles Of The Keeper - The Long Hot Summoning Part 29

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 s.h.i.+fted emphatically on the cus.h.i.+on, feeling a bit like a b.u.t.terfly on a pin. "... but he's not looking at you."

shunk kree, shunk kree.

You can't see me. You can't see in . . . 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 s.h.i.+t 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't all bad.

The gla.s.s behind her s.h.i.+vered 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 gla.s.s 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 h.e.l.l itself with more composure. What was it about this guy?

For that matter, what was 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 how they 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 pa.s.sed, his head slowly turned, and he peered into their rectangle of shadow. His eyes narrowed. His grip s.h.i.+fted on the flashlight.

You can't see us . . .