The Second Summoning

by Tanya Huff

  Hooking a paw around a tap, he braced himself as the car rocked from side to side. “No surprise really, I mean, how can a guy aim when he’s being flung around the room.”

  “How about sitting down?”

  “Not manly. Don’t put your hand there!”

  “Eww. You’re not helping.” She erased the signature a Cousin had left behind and straightened. “It’s not a big hole, but it’s been here for so long it may take a while to close it down. I’ll have to keep coming back—do it a bit at a time.”

  “You’re going to attract attention,” he pointed out, climbing into the backpack so she could wash her hands.

  “As if. People don’t watch other people heading for the bathroom.”

  “You think she’d try adult diapers or something.”

  “Yeah. Adult diapers.”

  Just past Coburg, heading into the bathroom for the seventh and hopefully final trip, Diana leaned down and smiled sweetly at the two young men who’d made their observation about adult diapers in carrying voices. “I’m on my period,” she purred for their ears only.

  They leaned away from her, appalled.

  “Lots of heavy bleeding.”

  The blond turned green, his gold eyebrow piercing standing out in stark contrast to his new skin tone.

  “Clotting even.”

  The brunet swallowed three times in quick succession and clamped a hand over his mouth.

  “Sloughing off big chunks of uterine lining.”

  They exchanged identical expressions of horror.

  “One more word out of either of you,” she promised, “and I’ll go into detail.”

  “Was that nice?” Samuel asked, emerging from the backpack as the bathroom door closed. “I mean, they were just being guys.”

  “Yeah, well, I am not an angel.”

  He sighed and shook his head. “You’re not even a cat.”

  “Look, it’s easy, stop the truck or I ruin the upholstery. Your choice.”

  Claire rolled her eyes as Dean began looking for a place to pull over. “You went to the bathroom less than fifty kilometers ago.”

  “And now I have to go again.”

  “Austin, we’re in a hurry!”

  “So am I.”

  Since the truck was now stopped, there didn’t seem to be any reason to continue the argument. Opening her door, she watched Austin leap to the ground and disappear behind a young spruce.

  After three minutes on the dashboard clock, she opened the door again and called, “Austin? Are you all right?”

  “I’m old,” his disembodied voice reminded her. “It takes a while.”

  “Be careful.” She closed the door and sighed.

  “Worried about him?” Dean asked gently, brushing a few snowflakes off her hair.

  “A little.”

  “Seemed like some sigh for a little worry.”

  Noting the sudden spray of snow from behind the spruce, Claire glanced over at the clock and sighed again. “I just can’t help thinking that there’s got to be a more efficient way to fight darkness. There’s a demon loose in the world and we’re waiting at the side of the road for a cat to pee.”

  The certain knowledge that they were not going to be eating in his car gave Leslie/Deter the strength to hold his table against all comers. He looked up from two number fours, one supersized, a coffee, and a hot chocolate as Byleth approached, limping slightly, and demanded, “Are you all right?”

  Byleth adjusted her jacket, smoothed her hair back into place, and shrugged. “I had to fight through a busload of old ladies to get to a stall.”

  Above the line of the black turtleneck, Leslie/Deter’s pale face blanched paler still and he glanced toward the women’s washroom as though he expected to see a blue-haired horde emerge brandishing American-made toaster ovens. “You didn’t wait your turn?”

  “As if. I’d still be in there.” She looked around the rest stop, noting the lineup of elderly men at all three of the fast food outlets. “I know the baby boom is aging, but this is nuts.”

  “They’re on their way home from a holiday trip to Casino Rama.”

  “You can tell that from looking?”

  Byleth could feel him tottering on the edge of a lie, but in the end he shook his head. “No. It said so on their bus.”

  “Oh. Well, when I unleash Hell, old people will be among the first to go—because they don’t run as fast,” she explained when he made a strangled, wordless protest. “I mean, even demons with no actual legs can move faster than some old fart using a walker.”

  “I wish you wouldn’t talk like that.” He checked to make sure no one had overheard before squaring his shoulders under the black leather trench coat and meeting her…

  …staring past her left ear. “I don’t like it.”

  “Because of the God thing?”

  “Yeah. Because of the God thing.” His stance softened as he slid her food across the table. “It isn’t funny.”

  She grinned at him over a mouthful of fries. “I wasn’t joking.”

  “Byleth.”

  “Leslie. You know what I don’t get,” she continued. “You drive a really cool car, you’ve got that high-priced sort of Goth meets ’N Sync look going, you’re neither boxers or briefs so what is it with you and God? It’s like, so geeky. You don’t really believe you have a personal relationship with the big kahuna, do you?”

  “Yeah, I do.”

  She put down her burger and took a closer look. He really did. It was…unexpected. And disconcerting. Pushing her hair back off her face, she glared at him from under lowered brows. “In my experience, a so-called personal relationship with God mostly involves criticism of lifestyle choices.”

  “Lifestyle choices?”

  Her eyes went onyx. “I’m a demon.”

  Leslie/Deter’s gaze skittered off hers, wandered the room for a moment, then slowly returned. His hands were trembling, but he swallowed and looked deep into the unrelieved black. “You don’t have to be,” he said.

  And he believed that, too.

  Byleth shoved her chair back hard enough to scrape the hard rubber legs across the tile floor with a noise that mixed fingernails on blackboards with the scream of a jammed fan belt. Half the people in the room winced, the rest put a hand to their better ear and shouted, “What?”

  “Come on.” She snatched her diet cola up off the table. “This isn’t getting us any closer to Kingston.”

  Claire began to get fidgety as the main street of Marmora disappeared behind them.

  “Are you all right?” Dean asked, reaching out to capture her hand.

  “I don’t know. Something’s nagging.”

  He eased off on the gas. “Do you want me to stop?”

  “Oh, sure,” Austin muttered, stepping indignantly across her lap, “but when the cat has to pee, there’s no sympathy.”

  “It’s not my bladder, Austin, it’s the Summons.”

  “I knew that.”

  “Of course you did.” Pulling free from Dean’s grip, she stroked her fingers along the brilliant white expanse of stomach fur, the familiar motion and answering purr smoothing out her agitation.

  “Claire?”

  “Right, the Summons. We need to turn south. Now.”

  Dean looked past her to the snow-covered fields and copses of naked trees passing on the south side of the highway. “Now?”

  “Not exactly now. But as soon as you can.” Claire drew the Ontario Map Book out of the glove compartment, found highway seven, followed it to Marmora and beyond. “There.” Her fingernail tapped an intersection of two red lines. “Turn off on number 62 to Belleville.”

  “That where we’re headed?”

  “No, we have to go farther east, but that’s where we’ll pick up the 401.”

  “What’s east of Belleville?”

  Claire ran her finger along the double line. “There’s Napanee,” she told them, continuing to check the route, “but I don’t think that’s the…”

&
nbsp; “Place?” Austin prodded rolling up onto his feet. Head to one side, he looked from Keeper to map and then followed a thin line of gray up to where it spread out against and disappeared against the gray upholstery on the inside of the roof. “What’s that smoking under your finger?”

  “Kingston.” She closed the book with a snap.

  “Kingston?” Dean repeated.

  Claire met his eyes and nodded.

  Austin sat down again. “At the risk of sounding clichéd, I’ve got a bad feeling about this.”

  “You know what I love about trains? When they stop between stations for stupid reasons, you can’t get off.”

  Curled up in the depths of the open backpack, Samuel yawned. “Why would you love that about trains?”

  “I was being sarcastic.”

  “I knew that.”

  “Sure you did.” Diana glared out the window at the cars moving by on the highway, one empty, snow-covered field away—her left foot tapping against the floor, right fingers splayed out on the window. “I could have walked over there and got another ride by now, but, oh, no, that’d be against the rules. If I’d been Summoned to Kingston, I could fix whatever the stupid problem is, but only attempting to prevent a gross injustice isn’t reason enough. This is so lame.”

  “It’s important you follow the rules.”

  She snorted. “That’s something I never thought I’d hear a cat say.”

  “I meant you specifically.”

  “Oh, ha! I guess angels don’t mind wasting time, the time we could be using to get there first and set a trap.” Her right foot took over the beat from her left. “This so totally sucks.” The weight of a Bystander’s regard pulled her head up. The blond young man she’d previously terrorized was standing in the aisle staring down at her. “What?”

  “Are you talking to your backpack?” he asked, leaning forward.

  Diana closed the flap on the top of the big pocket. “Are you operating on more than two brain cells?”

  “I just thought you had a…” He dropped his voice below the level of the ambient noise. “…cat.”

  “And what if I do?”

  Glancing around, as though he were about to hand over state secrets, he shoved a piece of beef jerky toward her, managed half a smile, hurried away. Frowning, she reopened the pack and offered Samuel the jerky.

  “Did you let him leave?” he demanded, hooking it out of her fingers.

  “I don’t think he’ll tell anyone.”

  “That’s not the point,” he protested. “The point is, there’s always more than one piece in a package of beef jerky.”

  “Maybe I should just go offer myself to him to keep you from starving.” Before he could answer, the train lunged about five feet forward, then began picking up speed in a less vertebrae-separating manner. “Finally! If that demon’s raised Hell before we get there, I’m sending a nasty letter to the smoking ruins of the VIA Rail head office.”

  “Oh, yeah, that’ll show them.”

  “So is there some place you want me to drop you off or what?” Leslie/Deter asked, as the car squealed its way around the tight exit ramp at Division Street. “If you’re on your own, we have a mission in Kingston.”

  “I so don’t care. Besides I know exactly where I’m going.”

  “Might be nice if the driver knew.”

  “Lower Union Street. Just off King.” Byleth wet her lips in anticipation. “Place called the Elysian Fields Guest House.”

  FOURTEEN

  “IT DOESN’T LOOK LIKE IT’S OPEN.”

  “That doesn’t matter,” Byleth said softly, staring up at the three-story Victorian building. The memory of darkness had left a grimy patina over the red bricks—a discoloration any eyes but hers would assume had been left by modern pollution. Well, the yellow-brown stains eating away at old mortar had been left by modern pollution, as had the patches of filthy, crumbling paint on the pale green trim, the white streaks from acid rain on the old copper roof, and the rather amazing amount of rust on every exposed piece of iron. She sighed and wondered why darkness even bothered.

  “Maybe I should go in with you.”

  “Maybe you should mind your own friggin’ business.” She unlocked the seat belt and shoved open the door with the same angry motion, uncertain of just who she was angry at. I ought to suggest that he put it in gear and then drive into something solid, but why waste such a cool car. She considered telling him to park by the lake and walk out until he found a break in the ice. Or to jump off the top of a building. Or to take in a Britney Spears concert. Well, she might not be able to touch enough of the darkness to manage that last one, but all the rest were perfectly feasible. Standing on the road, still holding the car door, she examined her options.

  Leslie/Deter ducked down far enough to see her face. “Be careful.”

  “Whatever.” No point in wasting diminishing resources on such a loser, not when there was a world of dark potential at her back. Muscles straining, she pulled at the heavy door and was astonished to hear her own voice just as it closed. “Thanks. You know, for the ride.”

  Gratitude?

  Eww.

  Spitting wasn’t enough to take the taste out of her mouth. This was so the last time she was manifesting in Canada.

  Clutching her open coat more tightly around her, Byleth waited until the car disappeared around the corner before turning toward the house. The God-pimp was just the kind of guy who’d hang around to make sure she was all right. “As though he could do anything about it if I wasn’t,” she sneered, climbing over a ridge of snow and up the nine uneven steps to the porch. There was a door down an equal number of steps in the area, but a teenager breaking into the basement of a guesthouse might be noticed by the neighbors while a customer, even a young customer, approaching the front door would not— knowledge not from the dark end of the possibilities but overheard last night in the mission dorm. If things went her way over the next couple of hours, there were a few other bits of overheard information Byleth looked forward to trying out—although she wasn’t entirely certain what a funchi, key caz star boi was.

  The door was unlocked.

  The old-fashioned brass knob turned silently.

  There’d be a Cousin inside. A Cousin who’d have been able to sense her since this morning when that idiot angel had so unexpectedly changed. A Cousin who had to know she was close. Who could be waiting, ready for her, just inside.

  I can take a Cousin.

  Palms suddenly damp, she hesitated, wondering why she was leaking. She could take a Cousin. Couldn’t she? At the precise moment she made form out of darkness, she could definitely have taken a Cousin, but for every moment after that, she’d been changing. Or, more precisely, the body had been changing her. Into what? That was the question. Suddenly racked with very undemonic insecurity, she froze.

  I don’t even know who I am anymore. This was such a stupid idea.

  It took a cold wind blowing in from the lake to get her moving again. Freezing was fine as a metaphor, she decided, pushing open the door, but in the real world it sucked big time. So maybe she couldn’t beat a prepared Cousin—no matter how pointless the whole stupid thing ended up being, it was infinitely preferable to spending another moment feeling like imps were jabbing icicles into her ears. She got enough of that back home.

  It wasn’t significantly warmer inside the guesthouse.

  The lobby and the tiny office behind the long wooden counter were empty of everything except a rather pitiful looking desk and an old rotary dial phone. Either the Cousin whose presence permeated the building had set a trap closer to the memory of Hell, or he hadn’t thought her much of a threat.

  Byleth’s fingers curled into fists and her mood flipped a hundred and eighty degrees, insecurity trumped by insulted pride. That’s just fine, she snarled silently. If you want a threat, I’ll give you a threat.

  Tossing a disdainful glance at the hunter-green walls—so yesterday’s color—she moved quietly down the hall, allowing i
nstinct to guide her. After it guided her to the kitchen, which decidedly had never held a hole to Hell in spite of a rather eldritch pattern of grape jelly spilled on the counter, she started opening doors.

  The basement wasn’t that difficult to find.

  Given the history of the place, Byleth could think of only one reason for the large metal door across from the washer and dryer, although reasons for it to have been painted turquoise escaped her. A few steps closer and she saw that it was ajar.

  This, then, was where the Cousin had set his trap.

  “Where to?”

  Setting the squirming backpack carefully on the floor behind the driver’s seat, Diana dropped into the cab and slammed the door. “The Elysian Fields Guest House, Lower Union just off King Street.”

  “That’s downtown, by the waterfront?”

  “Last time I checked.” Given the building in question, that wasn’t entirely a facetious statement.

  “The Elysian Fields Guest House?” the cabby repeated thoughtfully, easing his car into the line of traffic leaving the train station’s parking lot. “Bet that’s a name that doesn’t draw a lot of business. Might as well call it the Vestibule of Hell.”

  Diana smiled grimly at his reflection in the rearview mirror. “It’s been considered.”

  “’Elysian, windless, fortunate abodes // Beyond Heaven’s constellated wilderness.’ Prometheus Unbound, Percy Bysshe Shelley.”

  “Gee, and I can’t imagine why my guidance counselors keep steering me away from an English Lit degree.”

  “I could also do you a great wanking piece from Henry V,” he told her, changing lanes on Days Road, “but the city’s not sanding as much as they used to and last night’s snow is a bit packed in.”

  “I vote you pay attention to the road. You could even speed if you feel up to it.”

  “In a hurry.”

  “Definitely.”

  “Meeting a boy?”

  “What happened to paying attention to the road?”

  “Just asking.” His reflection frowned slightly. “You got a cat back there?”

  “No.” It came out a little fast, but Diana thought it still sounded sincere. The last thing she wanted to do was mess with a Bystander’s mind in a moving vehicle. Okay, not the last thing, but it was definitely in the top ten somewhere between seeing the N’Sync movie and having a root canal. “It’s just a backpack.”