Long Hot Summoning (8 page)

“Well, why are we still sitting here? I have some serious napping scheduled for this afternoon and I’d like to get to it.”

“We’re just going to leave, then?”

Austin sighed. “Yes. I don’t like it any more than you but that’s the way it is.

We leave. They stay. They save the world. We go home and you feed the cat. At least now you also have vital and important duties to perform.”

“Right.” Dean fished his keys from his pocket and started the engine. “Don’t be taking this the wrong way, but I’d be happier if you were with Claire.”

“Likewise.”

“You know, I’m starting to think this isn’t the actual anchor. That it’s just the tip of the iceberg.”

“Mixed metaphors aside, I think you’re right.” Claire straightened up from examining a display of remarkably realistic stone garden gnomes. “I also think they’re using a basilisk, so keep your eyes peeled.”

“That would explain the stone guy with the stone net and the wet stain on his stone trousers,” Diana acknowledged, crossing toward her sister. “I was wondering why they’d only stock one of such a guaranteed big seller. Where do you think it is?“

“The basilisk? Hopefully, not here.”

“Not the basilisk, the anchor.”

“It’s got to be close. It’s not in the store. It’s not in the storeroom . . .”

“It’s probably behind the construction barrier,” Sam yawned. He closed his mouth to find both Keepers staring at him. “What? It’s covered in
danger, keep out,
authorized entry only, this means you
signs. It seemed kind of obvious.” After a moment, Diana sighed. “He’s right.”

“You say that like you’re surprised,” the cat protested.

“Only because I was,” she told him reassuringly as she shoved him off her backpack and heaved it back up onto her shoulders. “Let’s get a move on. They’ve got to know we’re here by now.”

“If they don’t, they will in a moment.” Claire nodded toward the door. “It’s warded to keep things in.”

“Given the basilisk, good. Otherwise, that kind of sucks.”

“And it explains why no one’s shown up so far. They know they can take their time coming to get us because we’re not going anywhere.”

“We aren’t?”

“Hypothetically. Do you think you could not want those wards there enough to get rid of them?”

“I could just
get
rid of them.” As Claire turned toward her, Diana raised both hands. “Except I’d be imposing my will on the Otherside, and that would be breaking the Rules, and so I would never, ever do it because that would make me just like the bad guys.”

“Hey!” Sam bumped her in the calf with his head. “What are you talking about?”

“You can influence the Otherside with strong subconscious desires or by consciously wanting or not wanting something badly enough, but you can’t just demand it be one thing or the other,” Diana explained, bending just enough to stroke the end of his tail through her fingers. “Even if you’re very young and it was sort of an accident, no matter what people say.”

“Is this another doesn’t-know-her-own-strength story?” the cat wondered.

Claire nodded. “Every door that had ever been used as an access was blown off its hinges.”

“Okay, okay, fine. But nobody got hurt, so no harm, no foul.” Diana stepped closer to the wards. “You do something once . . .”

‘Twice.“

“Okay, twice, and all of a sudden you can’t be trusted.”

“I trust you. I’m the one who asked you to not want the wards, remember?”

“Right.” Her brow furrowed. The absolute last thing she wanted was to be stuck in a shadow Emporium with a possible basilisk and her sister telling remember-how-Diana-blew-up-the-sofa stories. The wards flickered. And again. And disappeared to the sound of sirens and a blinding array of flashing lights.

“I think you set off an alarm!” Sam yelled.

“What was your first clue?” Diana shrieked back at him as the three of them ran out the cleared door and into the concourse.

“It was either the sirens or the flashing lights!” The shadow construction barrier was the same painted gray plywood as the original.

“Unless this is the original and the other one’s the shadow.”

“Not important right now!” Claire had both hands pressed flat against the wood. “We’ve got to get through this.”

“How? There’s no door!”

“Then want to get through harder!”

“I am!” Diana scanned the barrier for any kind of a seam, but all she could see were the warning signs and the ubiquitous,
Kilroy was here.
“Oh, sure, but he’s not here now. The obnoxious gnome owes me ten bucks.”

“What?”

“Nothing!”

Claire smacked the barrier with the palms of both hands, then backed away.

“We’re going to have to use the access corridor to get behind it!”

“I hate this, but you’re right!”

They turned back toward the store, but before they’d taken a single step, the door to the storeroom crashed open and half a dozen misshapen bodies in badly fitting navy blue track suits charged through. Essentially bipedal, they looked like someone had crossed a rhinoceros with a hockey player.

“Great! Not wanting
them
doesn’t seem to be working either!”

“What are they?”

“Who cares?” Diana grabbed Claire’s hand, yanked her around until she was facing down the concourse, and gave her a shove. “RUN!” Sam was already almost at the food court.

The Tailor of Gloucester had become The Tailer of Gloucester with a number of samples hanging in the window. Diana would have liked a closer look at the multicolored fog swirling about inside the travel agency, but something slammed into her backpack as she passed the store and she decided that maybe concentrating on running would be the better plan. Fortunately, here on the Otherside, concentrating on running was enough to lend new speed to her feet.

“What are they throwing?” Claire demanded as they began weaving through the tables in the food court.

Something buzzed past Diana’s ear with an almost overpowering scent of gardenias, dented one of the metal chairs, and bounced out of sight.

“
I
think it’s scented candles!”

“Oh, that’s just great! Those things are deadly!”

“Only in enclosed spaces!”

On the far side of the food court, they followed Sam to the right; the crashing and banging of their pursuers through the tables and chairs drowning out the distant sound of the sirens.

“Where are we going?”

“I don’t know!”

“Hey! Up here!”

Both Keepers skidded to a halt and squinting up through the hexagonal opening to the upper level trying to make out the features of the person leaning over the edge.

“Are you a good witch or a bad witch?” the spiky silhouette demanded.

“We’re not . . .” Claire began but Diana drove an elbow into her side.

“Good witches!”

“Then haul ass to the stairs! We’ll hold them off.”

“We’re not . . .”

Diana grabbed Claire’s hand again. “Close enough. Shut up and follow Sam!” Something whistled through the air behind them as they pounded up the concourse after the cat. The escalators were insubstantial, but the stairs were much as they’d left them. Except for the piled barricade at the top and the half-dozen teenagers standing behind it.

Sam scrambled up and over but as the Keepers neared the top step, a genuine wood finish laminate armoire was rolled back out of the way. The packs made it a tight fit, but they both squeezed through and collapsed panting to the floor.

Candles pounded the barricade, hitting with enough force to slam through a display counter and into the piled barbeques behind it. The tempered steel rang like a gong but held.

The whistling noise was defined as the teenagers fired ceramic cherubs from heavy duty slingshots.

“Did you want these guys?” Claire murmured.

“I wanted rescue,” Diana admitted, “but I don’t think either of us had anything to do with this. It’s too . . .”

“Clichéd?”

“I was going to say too real, but strangely enough, too clichéd also works.”

“They’re hitting the things,” Sam reported from the top of the barricade. “It’s stopping them, but they don’t seem to be taking much damage.”

“Nah, they never do,” explained the teenager next to him, aiming and releasing again. “But if you hit them in the head, the bits of broken ceramic get in their eyes and they totally hate that. Damn! I don’t know what you guys did to get

‘em so worked up ’cause usually they got a zero attention span.” Another volley. And then another. And then a cheer went up.

“And we win again. The meat-minds’ll mill around for a while, then they’ll head home.” She tossed long, mahogany dreadlocks back behind her shoulders and stared down at Sam. “You talk.”

He shrugged. “So do you.”

“Good point.” Holding her bow across her chest,

she turned to face the Keepers. “I’m Kris, Captain of the Guard. Who are you?”

“Too real?” Claire whispered.

Although Kris and the other archers were dressed in combinations of clothes obviously pulled off the rack, there could be no mistaking the pointed ears or the great hair.

Elves.

Except, of course, that elves didn’t actually exist.

As the others moved to stand behind Kris, it became obvious that some ears were less pointed and some hair less blatantly great. Lined up in order, the seven would have looked like time lapse photography-from almost human to full elf.

Claire’s eyes widened. “They’re Bystanders.”

“Maybe once,” Diana agreed, watching one of them flick a brilliant red braid wound through with neon tubing back over his shoulder, “but not now. This place is changing them.” Feeling like a turtle stuck on its back, she tried to stand, struggling against the weight of the backpack. When Kris grinned and held out a hand, she accepted it gratefully. The elf’s grip was warm and dry, surprisingly callused and remarkably strong; Diana found herself lifted effortlessly to her feet.

“You’re ‘bout right for walkin’ on the weird side,” Kris observed as Diana reluctantly released her hand, “but your . . . sister?” Both Keepers nodded. Probably because of the Lineage, the family resemblance had always been strong.

“Well, she’s a little old for this sort of thing.” Diana hid a smile as she helped a glowering Claire stand. Since Dean and the seven-year age difference, the whole age thing had become a sensitive point.

“And, no offense,” Kris continued, “but you’re both too well fed.”

“Too well fed. for what?” Claire demanded, smoothing her skirt over her thighs.

“For livin‘ rough.”

“That’s because we haven’t been.”

“Totally obvious they didn’t fall in off the street,” the redhead snorted.

“No, we didn’t.” Diana agreed, breaking in before Claire’s tone got them into trouble. “We came here deliberately.”

That got everyone’s attention.

A very pale blond with eyes so light only the pupils showed, stepped forward.

“You can do that? Come here deliberately?”

“Well, duh.” A boy who might have been East Indian jabbed him with the end of his slingshot. “They’re here.”

“Well, duh, maybe they’re lying.”

“Yeah? Maybe you’re an idiot.”

“Yeah, well, you’re a ...”

“Colin. Teemo.”

Names held power. Whether Kris had known that before or had discovered it after crossing, she certainly knew it now. The argument stopped cold, both boys looking sheepish at suddenly being the center of attention.

“We
can cross deliberately,” Diana said into the sudden silence. “Not everybody can.”

“How?”

“Did we get here?”

“Yeah. That. And why did you come? And who the hell are you?” Diana exchanged a speaking glance with Claire. If the, well, elves-for lack of a better word-could still swear with impunity, then they were influencing the Otherside on a subconscious level only. However they’d changed, they remained Bystanders, and the Lineage worked very hard at keeping Bystanders unaware of their existence.

“Your Summons,” Claire murmured. “Your choice.”

“The Rules . . .”

“Diana, there’s a sign in that shoe store window advertising ruby slippers for half off. Unless they’re trying to attract the Otherside drag queen business, I’d say that the Rules have already been twisted pretty far out of shape.”

“O-kay.” Claire had been a total Rule follower her entire life. Dean had obviously loosened her up a lot more than Diana had suspected.
Bad, bad mental
image. Think about . . .

Kris folded her arms and glared. Her expression promised violence if she didn’t get an answer soon.

Yeah, that works.
“My name is Diana. This is Claire. That’s Sam. Essentially, we’re a sort of wizard called a Keeper.”

“We’re not wizards,” Claire sighed.

“Okay,” Diana muttered sotto voice, not the least surprised Claire’d had to stick her two cents in regardless of what she’d said about choices and whose they were.
“You
explain to the
mall elves
exactly what we are in three thousand words or less.”

Claire’s eyes narrowed, then she sighed again. “Essentially,” she told their fascinated audience, “we’re wizards. It’s our job to make sure that metaphysical balances are kept.”

“That the magical stuff between the worlds doesn’t go out of whack,” Diana clarified as half a dozen pairs of eyes stared at them blankly.

Kris shook her head, dreadlocks bouncing. “You’re wizards?”

“
Essentially
wizards,” Claire amended reluctantly.

“They’re wizards,” Sam snorted. “I’m a cat.”

“Right.” Kris acknowledged him with a quick smile and turned her attention back to the Keepers. “Well, since you’re here and since we’re here and since our candle throwin‘ friends with the negative number IQs are here and since this is a fuckin’
shopping mall,
I’m guessin‘ that the magical stuff between the worlds is way whacked.”

“Good guess.”

“Yeah, well, we’re not stupid.”

“Kris.” One of the others, a skinny, dark-haired, androgynous kid probably no more than fifteen jumped the barricade. “The meat-minds have retreated back past the food court.”

“Thanks, DK. All right, the rest of you go back to what you were doing before Jo gave the alarm. Me and Will’ll take these guys in to Arthur.“ She jerked her head down the concourse toward the anchor store at the far end. ”Let’s go.“ Will turned out to be the redhead.