Long Hot Summoning

by Tanya Huff

“And ending this once and for all?”

  “I will be leading my people. Once I am on the darkside, I do not doubt their leader will personally try to kill me. We will meet in battle and in single combat decide the fate of this mall.”

  Claire stopped walking and turned to stare at Arthur. “I beg your pardon?” She could almost hear Diana asking him if his baseball equipment was cutting off the oxygen supply to his brain.

  “I have been in these situations before, Keeper. This is what always happens.”

  “Yes, and you lose.”

  His smile was almost condescending. “There is no Mordred in this reality.”

  “Okay, first of all, you don’t know that. We don’t know who or what is pulling the strings on the darkside. That’s what Diana and Kris were supposed to find out instead of getting themselves captured and possibly tortured, and it’s all very well for you, but what on earth am I supposed to tell my mother if I come back without her?”

  Arthur blinked, glanced back at Lance, who shrugged and finally offered, “Tell her that Diana gave her life in the service of the greater good.”

  “Uh-huh.” Claire chewed a bit of nail polish off her right thumb. “And on a pure Keeper/Cousin level that might work but I’m talking about my little sister and my mother.” She spat a bit of Midnight Coral out with the last word, then sighed. “I’ll be going with Teemo and Kith. If Kris and Diana have been taken by the enemy, there isn’t a chance of getting them back without my help.”

  “Then your help is gratefully accepted.”

  “Good.” They began walking again, skirting the edge of Giftware and cutting through Leather Goods. Given what the elves considered party clothes, Claire wasn’t surprised that particular section had been emptied out. “Where was I? Rhetorical question,” she added quickly as Lance made an I know, I know! kind of noise. “The whole Mordred thing is irrelevant. You’re the archetypal symbol for one side, and if you face the archetypal symbol for the other side—we can call it Big Bird if we want to, but it won’t make a difference—you’ll die. This is the Otherside. I am a Keeper. I believe this, so it will happen. If it makes you feel any better, you can blame Mrs. Saint-Germaine and grade eleven English.”

  “But…”

  “No.”

  “If I…”

  “No.”

  “It isn’t…”

  “What part of ‘no’ are you having trouble understanding? You must not face the leader of the darkside in combat.” Claire ran both hands up through her hair and sighed again. “All at once, I understand exactly how Yoda felt.”

  “Who?”

  “Not important.”

  Arthur looked as though he was about to protest, then clearly thought better of it. “Okay.”

  “I’m going to go get changed.”

  “Petite Sportswear is against the far right-hand wall.”

  “Thank you. Lance…” A half turn to find him smiling down at her. She had a sudden vision of him let loose in the mall and shuddered. “…you’d better stay with me.”

  “Sure! Hang on a minute!”

  Since she didn’t have a hope of moving him, she folded her arms and waited as he stepped forward, his pale blue eyes locking onto Arthur’s azure ones.

  “You’re the actual Arthur?” he asked.

  “I’m a version of the archetypal Arthur.”

  “Cool! Can I ask you something?”

  “Yes.”

  “What the hell are you doing here?”

  The broad brow under the silver band wrinkled. “I am making a fractured people one. I am a leader where there is need.”

  “But here? In a shopping mall?”

  “Yes.”

  “With elves?”

  “Yes.”

  Lance frowned. “I’m confused.”

  “You’re not the only one.” Claire patted him reassuringly on a sunburned forearm. “Come on…”

  Black stretch pants, black tank, black hood, black running shoes, black belt pouch…Claire had no idea if the real-world store carried the same selection, but on the Otherside this was clearly the place for one stop skulking. She either looked like she was going to a very casual funeral or about to fill her evening with a little B&E—she couldn’t decide. Maybe both; B&E at a casual funeral…

  Stop it. Do not think of funerals. You’ll get Diana back.

  Her hands were shaking as she dropped to tie her laces. “Is this really necessary? Ninja dressing didn’t keep Kris and Diana from being captured.”

  “I totally doubt it was the clothes that got them snagged,” Kith snorted, tying off the end of her braid with a black elastic. “You walk the walk, you wear the cloth.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “You gotta dress like you do.”

  “Yeah. Okay.” Communication between seventeen and twenty-seven occasionally took place in two distinct languages. Buckling on the belt pouch, she hurried out of the dressing room in time to smack a piece of chocolate away from Lance’s mouth.

  “Hey!”

  “If you ever want to go back, you can’t eat or drink anything on this side that you didn’t bring with you.”

  “But I’m hungry!”

  Actually, so was she. “I’ve got food in my pack. Come on.”

  Her pack was with Diana’s, just inside the front door. Claire dragged Lance through the milling crowd of mall elves, tossed him a power bar and a bottle of water, and began filling her belt pouch with preset possibilities.

  “I’d send you back to Kingston if I could,” she told him, tucking a folded piece of paper behind three glass marbles, “but with the darkside influencing the paths, I can’t guarantee where you’d end up.”

  “I’m willing to take that chance in order to stop Meryat!”

  “Since you’re the only one who can stop Meryat and since she’s with Dean, I’m not. We rescue Kris and Diana, we stop the darkside, we stop its influence, I send you to the guest house, you stop Meryat, and…”

  “We all live happily ever after!”

  “Sure. Why not.” The small plastic packet of cayenne pepper got slid very carefully up against the flat side of the pouch. “But for now, you’ll have to stay here in the store where you’ll be safe.”

  “I’m not afraid to fight!”

  “Good. If the store gets attacked, you’ll have to.” Fortunately, with Arthur out in the mall, there’d be no chance of that. Claire unzipped an outside pocket on Diana’s pack, reached into it, and froze as her fingers closed around air. “The wand. Diana took the wand.”

  “That’s bad?”

  “When she used it against a minion, it nearly killed her. If she uses it against the darkside…”

  “But I thought she was captured?”

  “So?” It took all of Claire’s strength to push that single syllable out against the certain knowledge that her little sister was as good as dead.

  “So if it’s that powerful, then she didn’t get to use it before she was captured. After, well, they’ll have taken it away from her so she can’t use it. Right?”

  Claire actually felt time start up again. “Right.” For the first time since the beach, she looked at Lance with something other than pique. Like he was something other than an unwanted responsibility. “Thank you.”

  His cheeks flushed under the sunburn.

  “So what’s the holdup?” Sam jumped up onto the top of Claire’s pack. “Why aren’t we moving out?”

  She zipped the belt pouch closed. “We?”

  Amber eyes narrowed, and his tail traced one long, slow arc from side to side.

  “You’re right.” Claire raised both hands in surrender, ignoring Lance’s questioning glance. Some arguments didn’t require actual dialogue. “But you’re not coming with me because I need you go with Arthur. If he’s challenged to single combat, he’ll forget everything I’ve told him about why he shouldn’t and leap forward to do what he considers the only honorable thing.”

  “I want…”

  “Sam, there has to
be someone there to tell him when he’s being an idiot and that’s one of the things cats do best.”

  “But Diana…”

  “Needs my full attention. I can’t be worrying about what Arthur’s going to do if I’m to have a chance of saving her.”

  Sam’s ears saddled. “You’re that sure he’ll answer a challenge?”

  “I am. It’s one of the benefits of working with an archetype.” As Arthur climbed up onto the chair, she frowned thoughtfully and added, “Actually, it’s pretty much the only benefit.”

  Arthur stared out at his assembled elves, raised his sword, opened his mouth, and closed it again.

  The moment had long passed.

  He jerked his head toward the mall. “Let’s go.”

  * * *

  “So, we’re winning, right? And this is part of your plan?”

  Diana glanced over at Kris as the surrounding meat-minds shoved them along familiar corridors. “This?”

  “Yeah. This.” Her gesture took in the meat-minds and the back of the Shadowlord walking up ahead. “You know, being captured and taken back to that…hole. ’Cause that’s where you want to be, right?”

  “Kris, that hole is essentially an entrance to Hell.”

  “So, as a plan, it sucks. But it is a plan, right?”

  Since the other girl so clearly needed to hear a specific answer, Diana smiled and lowered her voice. “Yeah, it’s a plan. It’s not much of one now, but it will be by the time we get there.”

  “Wicked.”

  Actually, yes, it being Hell and all, but Diana figured Kris didn’t need to hear that right now. Closing Hell down in the real world had been difficult enough, closing it on the Otherside without access to the possibilities would be almost impossible. Rules would probably have to be broken. Hey, it’s not like I haven’t broken rules before.

  Although not big ones.

  Not on purpose anyway.

  And intent counted.

  I’m intending to save the world. That ought to count for something.

  Destroying the bugs had been easy—once she’d plugged the small memory leak—as easy as tripping up the meat-minds by noticing how clumsy they looked. but Hell hadn’t given either the bug or the meat-minds substance. People preferred their world to have form and function and by giving darkness definition, they gave it a physical presence. The mall elves had created their own monsters. Giant bugs, skittering around inside the walls, and big, slow-moving guys with short hair, beady eyes, heavy guts and hands that were too big for their bodies.

  The mall elves had been street kids before they found their way through to the Otherside.

  The meat-minds were broad stereotypes of bad cops.

  Maybe we should throw coffee and donuts at them. Answer one bad stereotype with another.

  “You just had an idea.”

  “What?”

  Kris dug her elbow into Diana’s side with unconcealed glee. “You grinned. And your eyes were gleaming. You just had an idea. Hey, you! Piece of Hell Guy!” She raised her voice. “My girl’s gonna kick your Metamucil ass!”

  He turned, his expression so affronted Diana couldn’t stop herself from laughing. “My what?”

  “I think you meant metaphysical,” she murmured into an elven ear.

  “Metaphysical, metamorphosis, metronome, The Metropolis Daily Planet!” Kris snorted. “The point is the ass kicking.”

  His lip curled. “The point is that you are my prisoners, and I know a great many ways to make you scream.”

  Remember the meaning of enough, Diana pleaded silently with Kris. If you push him too far… She’d only get one chance to use the wand and the last thing she wanted to do was weigh the life of one beautiful, funny, interested girl against the world.

  And, for a change, it really was the last thing she wanted to do.

  When neither Keeper nor elf responded, he nodded, turned, and the whole procession began moving again.

  About five minutes of shoving later, Kris sighed. “I should’ve said it’d take more than an old white guy to make me scream. Wrong color. Wrong gender. Wrong wang.”

  “Yeah, you always think of the good lines when it’s too late.”

  “Truth.”

  “Wang?”

  “You know.” She pumped her hand at her crotch.

  “Ah. Wang.”

  By the time they reached the cavern, the wand had slid out from under her waistband and started down her right leg. It would have slid farther, but one of the points got caught on the leg elastic of her underwear. Diana half expected Hell to say, Is that a wand in your pocket or are you just happy to see me, but the pit remained silent as they were marched toward it.

  She’d only get one chance.

  One.

  As the meat-minds released them, the Shadowlord stepped back and wrapped long pale fingers around their upper arms, dragging them to the edge.

  Diana could feel Hell watching her. She was going to need a diversion. Meanwhile, there was no point in cowering. “So…” Given the way the hair was raising off the back of her neck in reaction to Hell’s attention, bored was a bit more than she could manage but—thank God for being seventeen—insolent was no problem. “…what are you going to do with us?”

  WHAT DO YOU THINK?

  “Don’t tell me. Not the virgin sacrifice again.”

  APPARENTLY NOT.

  Hell sounded put out about her moral failings? “Oh, ha ha.”

  THANK YOU. I’VE ALWAYS PRIDED MYSELF ON MY SENSE OF HUMOR.

  “That explains a whole lot about Comedy Central.”

  HEY, DON’T BLAME JON STEWART ON ME. I DON’T EVEN GET CABLE.

  “Well, it’s Hell.”

  AND YET YOUR LOT ALWAYS SEEM SO SURPRISED WHEN I TRY TO EXPAND MY HORIZONS.

  “You’re trying to take over the world for cable?”

  NOT JUST CABLE. YOU MAKE IT SOUND SO PETTY.

  “Sorry.”

  NO, YOU’RE NOT.

  Diana sighed. “You’re right. I’m not sorry.” She tried to yank her arm free without success and sighed again. “Could we get on with it?”

  IT?

  “The part where you gloat about what you’re going to do to us.”

  YOU’RE IN A HURRY?

  “I just thought we should get it out of the way.” She leaned forward far enough to catch Kris’ eye around the Shadowlord’s black-clad body. “It’s in the Rules.”

  “Gloating?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I always wondered. And the giant snow-cone machine?”

  Diana grinned. She was so definitely in love. “That’s optional.”

  YOU’RE BAIT!

  That’s what she’d been half afraid of. But this was not the place to let fear show. “Sorry?”

  YOUR SISTER WILL COME FOR YOU AND THE IMMORTAL KING WILL COME FOR HER. UNPREPARED TO FACE ME, THEY WILL BE DESTROYED.

  There was her diversion.

  While Hell’s attention was on the destruction of Arthur and Claire, she’d take her one shot with the wand and pour everything she had into closing the hole.

  And it would take everything, too.

  As plans went, it sucked—worst case scenario left the ground littered with bodies—but at least now she had a plan.

  * * *

  “I’m after having second thoughts about this plan. That is one pissed-off basilisk!”

  Austin smacked at another bit of rolling canvas. “You’re surprised? You don’t go zipping mythological creatures into hockey bags and expect them to be pleased about it.” He dug his claws into the upholstery as Dean turned the truck into the guest house driveway. “Later, when we’ve got the time, remind me to tell you about what happened when Claire stuffed a pixie into her purse.”

  “Messy?”

  “In a manner of speaking.” The truck rocked forward and back, the jerky stop giving Austin some indication of the state of Dean’s mind. He didn’t really care about the state of Dean’s mind, but he had a pretty good idea of what was g
oing on up there. “You’re wondering if you can go through with this.”

  “Yeah.”

  “You’re concerned because, sure she’s an evil, life-sucking mummy, but is that any reason to turn her to stone.”

  “Yeah.”

  “And you’re thinking that a life-sized statue of a reanimated corpse is not only going to destroy the ambiance of the guest house but will probably gouge the hell out of the hardwood floors when you try to move it.”

  “I’m not thinking ambiance!”

  Austin took a swipe at the immaculate white fur on his shoulder. “Too many syllables for you?”

  “I’m thinking…”

  As the pause extended, he looked up to see Dean clutching the sides of the steering wheel, his head bowed and resting against the top curve. “Stop.”

  “Stop what?”

  “Stop thinking.” He stood, stretched, smacked the hockey bag again, and put his paw on Dean’s thigh. “Look, you’re just a Bystander and you should never have had to deal with anything stranger than laundry instructions. That said—although I’ll call you a liar if you ever repeat this—you’re dealing with it admirably. Just keep dealing with it and you’ll be fine.”

  “I don’t look like a man who’s in over his head…OW!”

  Austin retracted his claws and muttered, “You look like a man with blood on his jeans and a basilisk in a hockey bag. Get over yourself and let’s get on with this. I’m hot, I’m hungry, and I’m missing Oprah.”

  * * *

  The guest house was cool and quiet as Dean pushed open the back door. With the curtains pulled across the dining room’s big windows, the sun hadn’t had a chance to heat things up. And that was good because the air outside was rapidly approaching dry roast. He wasn’t so sure about the shadows, though; they made the place look mysterious, spooky even and, all things considered, that wasn’t exactly reassuring.

  Grunting as a tail or a foot or a wing or something caught him in the stomach, he heaved the hockey bag up onto the dining room table. Then grabbed it as the basilisk’s struggles sent it skittering across the highly polished surface. Okay, maybe he had gone a little overboard with the wax.

  “Dean.”

  Heart in his throat, he whirled around. “Jaysus, Dr. Rebik, don’t be sneaking up on me like that!”

  The old man managed half a smile. “Sorry.”