Chronicles Of The Keeper - The Long Hot Summoning Part 67

"I'm working on ... Hey!" Those were hands where they had no business being. Not that Lance seemed to notice as he began to throw himself against the sides of the fridge. "Careful! You're going to . . ."

Too late.

The fridge went over, the door flew open, and Claire spilled out into Large Appliances wrapped up in a panicking grad student. She slapped him purely for medicinal reasons.

Rolling free, she found herself staring up at a pair of worried amber eyes, cinnamon nose nearly touching hers. No mistaking the tuna breath. "Sam! Ow!" Half a heartbeat later, she had an armful of marmalade cat and a row of bleeding puncture marks along her collarbone. "Oh, baby-cat, you have no idea how glad I am to see you."

The ecstatic purring stopped. Sam squirmed free and backed up until all four feet were each applying approximately ten pounds of pressure to Claire's chest. "Baby-cat?"

"Term of endearment."

"Baby-cat!"

"I'm sorry. I was caught up in the moment. It will never happen again."

Whiskers bristling, Sam stared at her with such intensity, her eyes started to water. "See that it doesn't," he snorted at last and walked away muttering, "Baby-cat? I'd like to see what'd happen if she tried that on Austin. He'd remove her spleen ..."

Claire smiled and sat up. It was good to be back.

"What's with the elves in hockey gear?" Lance demanded, bouncing up onto his feet, panic forgotten.

Actually, that was a good question.

White, plastic shoulder pads gleaming under the store's florescent lights, the mall elves pushed their way between the washers and dryers and surrounded the open area in front of the toppled fridge. Whatever they'd been doing, it had certainly got them worked up; Claire'd never seen them so excited. They were in constant movement, all talking at once. Half a dozen hands reached down to lift her to her feet.

"Thank you, okay, that's great, I'm fine, yes it's good to be back . .. Hey!" An elf she didn't recognize backed away, hands in the air. Sure, he could have just been smoothing down the back of her skirt and she could have just spent a couple of hours with the G.o.ds of ancient Egypt. Oh, wait . . .

"They're happy to see you!" Lance pointed out, accurately but unnecessarily.

"He's not Australian?" Stewart asked, shooting a disbelieving glance up at the taller blond.

"Not so that you'd notice."

"Weird." He handed over her sandals. "You left these here."

Claire thanked him, bent to slip them on, and straightened as the surrounding babble rose in volume.

Lance's fingers closed over her shoulder. "Meryat!"

She sighed. "Arthur." And stepped forward to meet the Immortal King.

He clasped her wrist in a warrior-to-warrior move Claire'd only ever seen performed in old movies. It was moderately rea.s.suring that he hadn't changed enough from his basic parameters to greet her with a high five. "I am truly glad to see you back, Keeper."

"I'm truly glad to be back." She glanced at his chest. "Decided to have a sports day while I was gone?"

"We are armored for battle."

"Battle? The darkside is attacking?"

"No." Blue-black hair fell over his eyes as he shook his head. "We take the fight to them."

It seemed like she'd managed to find the mall just in time. "No, we don't . . ."

"Your sister, the Keeper Diana, and Kris, my captain, have been captured."

"Yes, we do. How do you know this?"

"A budgie mirror gave the news to Sam."

"Okay, then." That was just ludicrous enough to be a reliable source. She waved toward the various bits of surrounding padding. "Can I a.s.sume you were about to leave?"

"We were."

"Just let me get my stuff . . ."

"Claire?"

Right. Lance. Her own personal albatross. Except that an actual albatross would be significantly less annoying. Still . . . Bystander. Keeper. Responsible. Yadda. "Lance . .." She reached back, got a good grip on his sleeve and dragged him forward. ". . . this is Arthur. He's in charge of the elves."

"The Arthur?"

"Yes."

Lance frowned. "I would have thought Oberon . . ."

"Apparently not."

"He's younger than I imagined him being."

"That's because you didn't imagine him." She gestured toward the kids. "They did. Arthur, this is Lance. He's a very confused grad student looking for his professor and a reanimated mummy."

Arthur stared up at the large, blond man and his pale cheeks paled further. "Lance?"

"Yes."

"Du Lac?"

"Benedict."

The Immortal King released the breath he'd been holding. "Thank G.o.d."

YOU'RE WELCOME.

Chapter THIRTEEN.

"You locked Sam in a crate?"