Long Hot Summoning (34 page)

“You do realize that a basilisk would have no effect on me,” Meryat murmured conversationally.

“Obviously not,” Austin purred in much the same tone.

“But since there’s one available, I was thinking that turning Dean here to stone would reverberate through their bond and bring the Keeper racing back believing she was about to face a basilisk.”

“Whereas sucking Dean dry would bring her back prepared to face you.”

“Exactly. While she’s dealing with the lesser threat, I will . . .”

“. . . suck her dry and regain youth, beauty, and power in one fell swoop.”

“What a smart kitty you are. I think the Keeper might miss
you
more. Get down from there.”

“Or you’ll what?” Austin snorted. “Suck Dean dry? You’re going to do that anyway. Kill Dr. Rebik? Talk to someone who cares.”

“I see cats haven’t changed much in three thousand years.” He looked seriously affronted. “Why should we?”

“Excellent point. All right, if you won’t cooperate, I suppose I’ll have to return to my original plan. Dean, get the creature out of the wardrobe. Try to pick an attractive pose; you’ll be holding it for very long time.” Turned to stone, he’d have a chance at being turned back when Claire kicked mummy butt. With his life sucked out . . . Dean glanced back at Dr. Rebik who seemed to have fallen asleep propped up against the wall. He stood and headed for the wardrobe where he found seventeen pairs of shoes, a crumpled pile of Claire’s clothes

. . .

“What are you doing?” Meryat demanded.

“Hanging things up.”

“Well, stop it!”

. . . but no basilisk.

The wardrobe was Claire’s usual access to the Otherside. He’d used it himself once, following the path Claire had laid down. But this time, Claire’d crossed over in the mall, so no path. No escape for him. Apparently, basilisks were mythological enough to make their own way over. Dean pressed his hand flat against the back wall, the wood rough and reassuring under his palm.
That’s it, Lassie . . .
Collies. Basilisks.

Whatever. . . .
bring back help.

Oh, Hel
... p. Claire stood at the entrance to a huge circular cavern and stared at the pit in the middle of it. No wonder the power fluctuations seemed so familiar.

Been there. Done that. Should’ve got the T-shirt.

Not a segue, a hole. A hole capped only by an incomplete segue. The moment the segue was finished, Hell itself would have unlimited access to four acres of suburban Kingston. Which was
not
a redundant observation, no matter how much Claire hated the suburbs.

The problem was: how did she close a hole to Hell without access to the possibilities? Marbles and spices were not going to be enough.

The wand.

If Diana still had it, it was their only chance.

If.

Belief in this instance would accomplish nothing, but as it would do no harm, Claire decided to believe, with all her heart, that Diana had the wand.

She leaned a little farther around the edge of the cavern entrance and finally spotted her sister by the side wall. Not injured. Not even confined. Her hands were wrapped around various bits of Kris and Kris’ hand were . . . actually, Claire couldn’t see what Kris’ hands were doing, but the result seemed to be a fair bit of wiggling.

Neither of them seemed too upset by their captivity.

TEENAGERS, Hell sighed. If the pit had eyes, they’d have been rolling.

The groping had to be part of Diana’s plan.

Forcing Hell to underestimate her.

Lulling Hell into a false sense of security.

Convincing Hell there would be no attack.

Of course, there was always the possibility that Hell was right and, when faced with their imminent death, the two girls had decided to get in one last. . .

No.

At the very least, they were creating a distraction. She’d have never gotten this close unchallenged had the darkside been paying attention.

Time to return the favor.

The cayenne pepper in one hand, a marble in the other, Claire sprinted for the edge of the pit. She made it about two thirds of the way.

One of the wand’s points had snagged on the inside of Diana’s black stretch pants and wriggling didn’t seem to be freeing it.

“Harder!” she growled, her mouth against Kris’ ear.

“I don’t want to hurt you!”

“I can take it!”

OKAY, UNDER THE CIRCUMSTANCES, I HAVE TO SAY THAT THIS

IS INAPPROPRIATE BEHA . . . AH!

Between one heartbeat and the next, Diana felt the power fluctuations stop and the cavern fill with a grid of dark bands. She saw Claire snatched up into the air and held writhing. She heard Hell begin to laugh.

Then the wand ripped free.

She met Claire’s eyes.

Said a silent good-bye.

And shoved Kris out of the way.

With its pink star pointed toward the pit, the wand bucked in Diana’s hand like a living thing, fighting to find the possibilities through the power of Hell.

Hell’s first attack slammed her to her knees. The pain of impact almost broke her concentration, but four years of enforced PE lent her strength. If she could work through the pain of field hockey/ she could work through this.

Had to work through this.

She touched the edges of the possibilities.

Not enough.

Hell’s second attack slid shadows through her mind.

THEY WILL PAY FOR EVERY MOMENT YOU FIGHT ME!

Images of Claire, of Kris, of her parents, of Sam broken and bleeding.

With Hell’s attention split, Claire managed to open her hand although she broke a finger doing it. The marble rolled from her palm, fell too slowly to the stone, and shattered.

Brilliant white light burned the shadows away.

It only lasted for an instant.

It lasted just long enough.

Free of the darkness, Diana touched the possibilities and threw herself open to them. No fear. No doubt. No regrets.

This had been her Summoning not because she was closest but because she was youngest and most powerful.

All that she was.

The end of the wand erupted. Streams of pink luminescence sizzled and danced their way down into the pit.

NO!

Diana reluctantly admitted to a brief moment of sympathy-it
was
disturbingly pink.

Then the pink began to mute as lines of gray snaked up from the pit, twisting and spiraling around the light toward the wand. Toward her hand. Toward her heart.

HA! NOT GOOD ENOUGH.

Blood in her mouth. The taste of iron. Her vision began to blur.

“Get . . . stuffed.”

Her Summoning because she was youngest and nothing but possibilities.

All that she would be.

Bubble gum pink. Barbie pink.

The scent of brimstone disappeared. The flickering red light against the cavern’s roof began to brighten.

The pit began to fill with glittering, gleaming, shimmering, incandescent pink.

Diana could no longer tell where her hand stopped and the wand began. At the edge of her vision, she saw Claire fall, missed her impact with the floor, but saw the remaining shadows given form. Had to trust her sister would stop them. At this point, she could no more stop the flow of possibilities than Hell could.

She didn’t realize she was moving until her toes stubbed hard against the edge of the pit.

IF I GO, YOU GO WITH ME!

Well, duh.

All she was, all she would be, given to save the world. How hard was that to understand? It was, after all, what Keepers
did.
Evil had a distinct tendency to keep missing the obvious.

She wasn’t so much falling forward as moving through the wand.

And then . . .

. . . falling back.

She saw Kris poised on the edge of the pit, the wand raised in a defiant fist.

Saw her totter.

Saw her fall.

Pink light filled the cavern.

When Diana could see again, the pit was closed.

Someone, she thought it might be her, threw themselves forward, pounded bloody fists against solid rock, and screamed “No!” There were Rules to follow, after all.

The problem was, Sam couldn’t just run. The Rules said he had to engage in battle or he wasn’t actually answering the challenge. The problem was, although he had
more
pointy bits, he was fighting a Shadowlord with a great big sword.

He zigged.

The Shadowlord zagged.

A great big sword
and
opposable thumbs.

Dangling by the scruff of his neck, Sam struggled to fold himself in half and get a claw into the hand holding him. Shrieking defiance, he felt the sword begin to descend.

Flash of silver.

He felt the impact reverberate through fingers buried painfully deep in his fur.

Hissed and spat as he was thrown aside.

Twisting in the air, he landed on his feet. Tail lashing, singing his challenge, he spun around.

“Let it go, Sam. I am permitted to intervene at the last instant in order to save the life of my champion.” Arthur stared over his blade at the Shadowlord. “Let’s get it on.” When his opponent looked confused, he sighed and translated. “It’s our fight now.”

Not quite human teeth flashed in a brilliant smile. “I have always killed you.”

“Yeah, yeah. That was then.”

“Fear me.”

“Bite me.”

Sam had to admit the dialogue was less than archetypal. Maybe, hopefully,
possibly
that would be enough.

Or not.

As swords clashed overhead, hilt caught on hilt, body slammed against body.

Eight inches from the floor, his angle unique, Sam saw the Shadowlord pull the dagger from his belt. Saw a black-clad elbow pull back. Slam forward.

My bad.

His failure.

I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.

Then the world turned pink.

Really, really,
really
pink.

When he could see again, the Shadowlord had vanished and Arthur was standing with Excalibur over his head, hips canted back, staring down at a hole in his chest protector.

The circle of mall elves seemed frozen in place as Sam crept forward. “Are you . . . ? Did he ... ?”

Holding his position, moving only his left arm, Arthur slid a finger into the rent.

Pulled it out again.

The tip was red.

A strangled cry from a dozen throats.

“No, no, it’s okay.” Excalibur’s point clanged against the tiles, as Arthur relaxed. “He barely pricked me.”

They were all still too close to the edge for cheers.

Then someone sighed, “Close one, dude.”

In the joyful chaos that followed, Sam lifted his tail and sprayed the place where the Shadowlord had been standing.

“Enough of this!” Meryat rose from the edge of the bed and locked Dean in place with a pointed finger. “These games no longer amuse me. I will take your life
now
and face your Keeper stronger because of it!”

“Not so fast.” Austin crouched at the edge of the wardrobe and stared down at the mummy/Dean tableau. “If I’m not mistaken, which I’m not, so don’t go there, the Rules state you, as the villain of the piece, have to brag about how you defeated us before you administer the coup de grace. That’s the finishing stroke,“ he added for Dean’s benefit.

Dean’s expression suggested he didn’t appreciate the translation.

“The point is,” Meryat sneered, the missing piece of her lip adding further scorn to her expression, “you have
been
defeated. What difference will bragging about it make?”

Austin shrugged. “Well, I personally could care less, but if you break the Rules, we get to break the Rules.”

“You? What can you do?”

He licked his shoulder at her.

“Fine! I’ve waited three thousand years; I can wait a few more minutes.”
FIFTEEN

“Come on, Diana, you’ve got to run. This whole place is coming down!” Diana twisted free of Claire’s grip and headed back toward the center of the cavern. “We’ve got to get her out!”

“We can’t.” Claire hooked her fingers into the waistband of Diana’s pants and yanked her to a stop. “You know as well as I do that there’s a hundred ways to go to Hell-hand baskets, good intentions- but we can’t use any of them if we’ve been crushed under a pile of . . .” She threw herself sideways, taking Diana with her as a piece of the cavern ceiling crashed down. “. . . rock.” Considering where they were, the light bulb wasn’t entirely unexpected.

Claire batted it out of the way with her good hand as Diana surged up onto her feet.

“We’ll go after her!”

“Yes, but . . .”

“But nothing.” Diana’s hand closed around her wrist and yanked her up.

“Let’s move!”

It seemed that their presence alone had been maintaining what little stability the cavern still had. As they crossed the threshold, the rest of the ceiling crashed down. Coughing and choking in the billowing clouds of faintly pink stone dust, they ran faster, the tunnels collapsing behind them.

Which is certainly better than in front of us,
Claire acknowledged as they raced toward the throne room ...

. . . only to find the entrance blocked.

“Is there another way out?” Mouth close to Diana’s ear, she still had to shout to be heard over the roar of falling rock.

“This is the only one I know!”

“Oh that’s just great!” One-handedly fighting the zipper on the belt pouch open, she found Diana there before her. “What are you doing?”

“If we don’t get out, we can’t save Kris. So we’re getting out!” Snatching out the folded piece of paper, Diana knelt and stuffed it between two of the rocks that blocked the door.

“Diana, that won’t work! Rocks can’t read!”

“I’ll read it for them.” Yanking Claire out of the way, she pointed back toward the oncoming destruction and yelled, “Move!”

The paper released the possibilities it held.

The rocks moved.

They moved as though they knew full well they’d be pounded to sand if they didn’t.

The black marble floor had cracked and buckled and the wall behind the throne had canted inward at an impossible angle, but structural integrity was being maintained. Provided the definition of both structural and integrity was less than precise.