Long Hot Summoning (12 page)

Raising her head, she could see another row of beds facing the first. Since all the beds were made- bedding, aisle fifteen-she assumed the elves were using it as a dormitory slash infirmary.

“Hey. You’re awake.”

“Claire!” A strong hand behind her back helped her sit. The world tilted.

“Bucket!”

A bucket appeared with an efficiency that suggested this was not the first time.

Legs crossed, Diana grasped the turquoise plastic sides firmly and bent over.

“I can’t believe you’ve still got that much in your stomach,” Claire murmured worriedly when Diana finally sat up.

“I don’t. We’re on the Otherside, remember?” Diana gratefully took the offered water, poured some into her mouth, rinsed, and spat. “I could be channelling it from anywhere. why is everything on an angle?“

“I’m guessing that when you sat up, the world tilted. It’s been happening every time you vomit, but don’t worry, it settles down.”

“I hurl and the earth moves?”

“I know, just what you need, more ego reinforcement.” Eyes averted from the contents, Claire set the bucket into the lower cupboard of the bedside table and closed the door.

Diana thought about that for a moment and shuddered. “Uh, Claire . . .”

“Do you want to deal with it?”

“Well, no, but . . .”

“Well, I don’t want to deal with it either and that means we don’t have to.

Next time it comes out of the cupboard, it’ll be a new bucket. Okay, once it was a new cauldron because a couple of the kids were hanging around, but, mostly, it’s a bucket.”

“Cauldron?”

“We’re wizards.”

“Right. Don’t cauldrons go with witches?”

“I suspect the kids were a little confused by that wand trick.” Arms folded, brow furrowed, Claire walked almost all the way to Baby and Toddler Pajamas, returned, and reluctantly continued. “And they were also impressed.”

“I get the impression you’re less impressed,” Diana sighed.

“When you used the wand to destroy the dark elf,

it didn’t pull power from the possibilities, it pulled it from you.“

“No sh . . . kidding, Sherlock.” Throwing back the covers, Diana cautiously swung her legs out over the side of the bed. The world wobbled a bit but went no farther off center. “That certainly explains why I feel like I’ve been puked up and left to dry on the sidewalk. Do you think the wand was a trap?”

“No, I think it was thrown together for the tourist trade with no real thought.

It’d have little effect on a Bystander and a Bystander would have less effect on it, but a Keeper . . .”

“. . . it sucks dry.”

“It’s why you collapsed.”

“Yeah, I got that.” She glanced around for her clothes, saw them folded neatly on the end of the opposite bed, and sent a pleading look toward Claire.

“Are you sure you’re well enough?”

“My head’s pounding, but I don’t actually want or enjoy the feeling of my brain being ground between bricks, so I should be better soon.” It wasn’t until Claire picked up her shorts and T-shirt with her left hand that Diana realized her right arm was held tight against her chest. “You okay?”

Claire followed her gaze, flexed the fingers, and nodded. “I took a hit from one of those tote bags when the dark elf realized what I was doing with the pepper.

It’s almost healed.”

“How long was I out?”

“About four hours.” Three words. A whole lot of feelings.

Diana reached out and touched her sister lightly on the shoulder. “I’m okay.”

“I know.”

“And if I wasn’t okay, it wouldn’t have been your fault.”

“I know.”

“I’m an active Keeper now, and I’m my own responsibility.”

“I
know
.”

“Okay, that last one sounded like you actually believed it.” Diana would have grinned, but it hurt to move the muscles of her face. “So give me a hug and let me get dressed. Since we seem to be stuck with him, I’d just as soon not appear before the Immortal King in my underpants and a sports bra.”

“You saved his life, he wouldn’t mind.” Claire pulled her into a fiery one-armed hug. “And you haven’t seen what his elves consider party wear,” she added, as they separated. Scrubbing away a tear, she nodded toward Diana’s clothes. “Although we do have the dignity of the Lineage to uphold.”

“Right. Dignity.” Carefully, she pulled her shorts up over her hips. “So. Four hours. Big delay in our plans to close the segue. That’s not good.”

“No. The darkside may have lost the battle, but it won time, and it has to be pleased about that.”

“What about Colin and the other kid?”

“Colin took a tote bag to the forehead while he was dragging Alanyse to safety and Stewart got pounded against a wall.” Claire walked around to the end of the next bed and lightly laid a hand on the blanket covering Colin’s foot. “They’ll both be okay, though.”

“How do you figure?” Diana demanded, emerging from the T-shirt with teeth clenched. Dragging the reinforced neck over her head had done nothing to help the brick-grinding-brain problem.

“Arthur’s convinced them that they can’t die. As long as they believe that, everything heals.”

“Nice if he could have convinced them they couldn’t get hurt.” A quick, careful search found her sandals under the edge of the bed.

“I think that’s beyond even his powers of persuasion. These kids came off the street and before that from places even less pleasant. They
know
they can get hurt.”

“Good point. Hey, where’s Sam?”

“Sam’s fine. He’s out by the fire.”

That pulled Diana’s attention off her fight with a buckle. “Fire?”

“They have one every night. Here, let me get that before you vomit again.” Claire hiked up her skirt and knelt by Diana’s feet. “I don’t know how it started, but it’s become symbolic, so now it’s self sustaining.”

“Like the one at the Girl Guide camp?”

The older Keeper shuddered. “Different archetype, so let’s hope not.”

“I’m starving.”

“Hardly surprising, we missed lunch and it’s past time for supper. Come on, our packs are by the fire.”

“My pouch? The wand?”

“I put them away. You won’t be using the wand again, of course, but I thought it was safer in your pack than out where one of the kids might get to it.” Diana didn’t see why if it would have little effect on a Bystander, but since her pack was still the best place for it, she didn’t argue. Nor did she argue about that
of course.
It was an older sister thing and could safely be ignored. As things stood right now, she had no intention of using the wand again but, as her grade twelve sociology teacher used to say, change is the only constant. And the road to Hell was paved with good intentions. Dean had probably given them a polish on his way by.

The fire burned in a circular pit in the open area just inside the doors. There’d been no pit or even a sign of one earlier, but consistency frequently took a beating on the Otherside. They appeared to be burning charcoal briquettes, fake fireplace logs, and remaindered novelizations of
Everybody Loves Raymond.
Apparently, everybody didn’t.

The party clothes Claire had mentioned seemed heavy on the high-heeled boots, leather, and lingerie. Had she ever thought about it, Diana would have said that a run of the mill, middle-class shopping mall wasn’t likely to carry PVC corsets-and she’d have been wrong. Gilded by the light from the leaping flames, it looked like the elves were about to break into a coed version of “Lady Marmalade.” Arthur sat on the only chair in the circle of cushions. Although missing legs put it low enough to the ground that he had to cross his own legs in front of him, it still put him head and shoulders above everyone else. The fire reflected off his silver circlet and off the hilt of the sword thrusting up over his shoulder. He was gnawing on a drumstick and looking suitably barbaric until Diana noticed the red-and-white-striped bucket at his feet. The elves had apparently dared the food court.

A quick search spotted Sam perched on the lap of the tall, slender girl that Kris had signaled during their original walk down the concourse.

“He’s telling Kith everything that’s happened on
Buffy
since she crossed over,” Kris said suddenly by Diana’s shoulder. Diana tried not to shiver at the warm breath laving her neck. “Your cat watches too much TV.”

“Tell me about it. He hogs the remote, too.”

Sam’s ears flicked back at the sound of her voice, and an orange blur launched itself into the air. The background noise grew richer with the sound of Kith swearing in at least two languages as Diana’s arms filled with cat.

“You made me worry!” Amber eyes glared accusations at her.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t do it again!”

“Okay.”

“Now put me down!”

“Sure.” She kissed him behind one ear and stroked two fingers back over his head as she set him on the floor. Spinning around, he gave the side of her palm a couple of quick licks and then bit down-not quite drawing blood.

The moment his mouth was empty, he glared up at her. “I meant it when I said don’t do it again.”

“I know.”

He butted against her leg, hard enough to leave the imprint of his head as a purple-and-green bruise. Tail straight up in the air, a fuzzy orange exclamation mark, he stalked back around the fire.

“He’s gonna have to make with the apologizing. Kith loves her leather pants.”

“Cats don’t apologize,” Claire said, from Diana’s other side, her voice the voice of experience. “He’ll convince her the whole thing was her fault.”

“Yeah, but he . . .”

Diana cut the protest short. “It doesn’t matter.”

“If you say so.” Kris’ fingers were warm in the crook of her elbow. “Come on, himself wants to thank you.”

“What for?”

“Duh. Saving his ass and nearly killing yourself doing it.” Her grip tightened.

“I’m with the cat on that bit. Don’t do it again!”

“Look, if another situation comes up . . .” The dark glare from the guard captain was very nearly more heated than Sam’s.
Ohmygod, she cares!
Nearly breath-less, Diana maintained just enough self-control to shove her free hand into her pocket and cross her fingers. “Okay. Not doing it again.”

“Good. Because I’ll kick your ass if you do.”

Arthur tossed a bone onto the fire as they approached and rose fluidly up onto his feet, wiping greasy fingers on his jeans.

Immortal King. Teenage boy. Mixed messages,
Diana sighed silently,
that’s
what’s wrong with the world.
And while they weren’t strictly in the world, it was a universal kind of observation. Well, maybe not the Immortal King, teenage boy part but the rest of it.

A hush fell over the assembled mall elves. Arthur touched his right fist to his chest and inclined his head in a regal salute. “My heart rejoices to see you well again, Keeper. I thank you for your timely intervention. I very much regret you were injured for my sake.”

His words carried the weight of ritual. Diana felt her cheeks begin to heat and sternly told herself to get a grip. Keepers didn’t do liege lord stuff-totally independent contractors.
She
didn’t do liege lord stuff. The blood rising into her cheeks ignored her. Nothing to do but blame the color on the fire and make the best of things. “Hey, no big.” Her shrug was as nonchalant as the circumstances and the lingering effects of her headache allowed. “I knew the job was dangerous when I took it.”

“Then I thank you for your willingness to do the job.” His gesture included Claire in his gratitude. “We all thank you.”

On cue, the elves began to whoop, then one of them flipped on a boom box and the first track off The Melvin’s
Hostile Ambient Takeover
ripped through the remaining silent spaces.

“Oh, yeah, that’s appealing. If they really wanted to thank us, they could find something that sounded like music,” Claire muttered.

Diana snorted. “Too old to appreciate the good stuff?”

“I’ll let you know when I hear some.”

“People who only listen to the CBC have no grounds for criticism.”

“I’m sure you’re both hungry,” Arthur interjected smoothly, his voice sliding through the ambient noise. One hand indicated the bucket of chicken. “I’d be honored if you’d join me.”

“We’d be pleased to eat with you,” Claire said while Diana swallowed an inconvenient mouthful of saliva cased by the rising scent of eleven different herbs and spices deep fried to an extra crispy goodness. “But as we mentioned before, we can only eat the food we brought with us.”

“I understand.” He sank down into his chair-a gold brocade wingback; the legs having very likely gone to fuel an earlier fire-and waved the two Keepers into the space on his right, empty but for two cushions, their packs, and a saucer.

“Sam couldn’t wait.” Claire kicked off her sandals, crossed her ankles, and descended gracefully. “I fed him while you were out.” Diana dropped and sprawled, one hand digging in her pack for food before her butt hit the cushion. “I figured. I also figured a full stomach was the only thing keeping his fuzzy head out of the chicken.”

“It’s not actually chicken.” Both Keepers turned to stare at the cat. Backlit by the fire, his fur looked more red than orange. “I’m not even sure it’s some kind of bird.”

As one, the Keepers turned to stare at Arthur who shrugged and pulled out a wing that was just a little too large and folded one too many times. “It
tastes
like chicken.”

“What doesn’t?” Diana muttered, biting into her tuna salad sandwich.

Chewed. Swallowed. Scraped her tongue against her teeth. “Oops. My bad.” Claire flicked a coral-colored fingernail through her chicken-flavored carrot sticks and sighed. “Try to be more careful.” She offered one to Sam who turned up his nose at it.

“I don’t care what it tastes like,” he sneered, “it’s still a carrot.” On the other side of the fire, bodies leaped and twirled, flames burnishing hair, and skin, and jewelry. The more
elfin
the dancer, the wilder the dance although even Jo, whose ears had barely begun to point, moved with both grace and abandon to the pounding music. It wasn’t the kind of dancing Diana was used to, that was for sure.