Long Hot Summoning

by Tanya Huff

  The passage ended in what was obviously a throne room. Kicking through bits of shattered chitin, Claire approached the dais where she found, amid the broken insect bits, a tampon lying crushed and forgotten.

  Diana.

  She paused and quickly checked her memory of the charging meat-mind army. Well, the odds were very good it was Diana’s anyway.

  A few scorch marks against the polished stone showed where preset possibilities had been destroyed. None of them looked large enough or scorched enough to have been the wand.

  Then there was a chance Diana still had it.

  Definitely a good news/bad news scenario.

  Only one exit from the throne room. A stone corridor leading even farther down. The moment she stepped into it, Claire felt a familiar pull.

  Running as quietly as she could under the flickering torches, Claire hurried toward it. This wasn’t her Summoning. She shouldn’t be feeling a pull, familiar or otherwise.

  It was possible that she was sensing Diana’s presence by the segue.

  But she didn’t think so.

  FOURTEEN

  DIANA COULD FEEL THE POWER FLUCTUATIONS. They filled the cavern, rippling from side to side, up and down, raising all the hair on her body. Not exactly a pleasant feeling. They were strong enough that she suspected she could see them if she just unfocused her eyes the right way.

  The good news was they weren’t all coming from the pit.

  Most, but not all.

  Some of them were coming from her.

  Some from outside the cavern.

  She felt it the moment the armies joined. Felt it as the weight of Hell’s attention grew lighter. Soon.

  Only one small problem.

  She stood, stretched, and beckoned for Kris to join her. “There’s a few thing I’d like to do before we die.”

  Which was the absolute truth and always the best way to deal with Hell. No point playing in its court.

  I’M SURE THERE ARE, Hell snarked as Kris put her hand in Diana’s and allowed herself to be pulled to her feet. BUT YOU CAN’T DESTROY ME, AND IF YOU TRY, I WILL MAKE YOU VERY VERY SORRY. I NEED YOU ALIVE AS BAIT, BUT I DO NOT NEED YOU UNHARMED.

  Hands on Kris’ hips, Diana snorted in the general direction of the pit. “It’s not always about you, dude.”

  The kiss had a touch of desperation about it—the odds were extremely good this would be one of their last, after all—and things heated up a little past the point where brain cells started to fry. Somehow, Diana managed to keep a small fraction of her mind on something other than the way Kris’ lips felt under hers and got them turned around until the mall elf’s body was between hers and the pit. Chewing along her jaw, Diana sucked the lobe of a pointed ear into her mouth and murmured, “Slide your hand down the back of my pants!”

  And let’s hear it for enthusiasm.

  “Farther…oh, yeah…no…down the leg.” Diana squelched a sudden desire to giggle at what sounded like bad porn dialogue. “The other leg.”

  As Kris’ fingers touched the top of the wand, she stiffened, suddenly realizing what this was about. From the way she began to pull back, she wasn’t entirely happy about it either.

  Diana tightened her grip and yanked their bodies into even closer contact. Licking her way around the inner curve of Kris’ ear, she sighed, “If I survive this, I promise I’ll make it up to you.”

  Kris’ answer was an emphatic wriggle.

  Probably trying to get a better grip on the wand.

  Probably…

  She could feel the wand begin to move up her thigh, toward her waistband and couldn’t resist. “Oh, yes! Yes! That’s it!”

  OH, FOR…GET A ROOM!

  * * *

  Staying close to Arthur wasn’t easy. The Immortal King moved through the battle with archetypal skills and the flexibility of a teenager. Sam did the best he could, and if he took a few detours to avoid being pounded into marmalade-colored kitty paste, well, he figured he was entitled. Squashed flat was not a good defensive position.

  The trick was to see the pattern of the battle and then become a part of it.

  The trouble was that his part of the pattern took him across the concourse at the same time Arthur’s brought him face-to-face with the tall redhead in the so cliché black armor. Who was very definitely not a meat-mind. And who looked vaguely familiar.

  The hair rose along Sam’s spine.

  He leaped a fallen elf and darted between two massive legs. He had to get to Arthur before…

  “What say you? Your sword against mine. Let us leave the young and the stupid out of what we both know is our battle.” The redhead’s voice filled a lull in the fighting; everyone froze for a heartbeat, then dark and light turned to face the middle of the concourse.

  Sam raced up and over a planter and found himself peddling air as Will grabbed him and clutched him tight against his hockey jersey.

  “Put me down!”

  “Shhh, it’s a challenge.”

  “I know it’s a challenge! I have to…”

  “You have to wait,” Will said, cutting him off. “When a challenge has been made, everything stops until it’s been answered.”

  The mall elf didn’t add that it was a Rule, but then, he didn’t have to. Sam could feel the Rule holding elves and meat-minds both in place. Fortunately, he was neither.

  “Put me down, or I’ll add a few new piercings to your nose.”

  “What?”

  A claw hooked into the inside of Will’s left nostril.

  “Right.”

  And Sam was back on the floor.

  “So, do you accept my challenge?”

  Arthur’s back was to him. Sam had no way of knowing what his answer would be, but something in the redhead’s pale eyes suggested he was about to get the response he desired. Too far away to stop Arthur from speaking, Sam did the only thing he could. “I accept!”

  Everyone blinked in unison.

  The redhead recovered first. “I was not speaking to you, cat.”

  “Should’ve been more specific, then.” Sam walked out into the open space between the two, sat down, and washed his shoulder.

  Arthur shook himself and took his eyes off the redhead for the first time since the battle had brought them face to face. “Sam, you can’t…”

  “And I won’t!” the redhead snorted.

  “I can and you will.” Sam stood and stretched, butt in the air. “The challenge has been made and answered. You can deal with him…” A jerk of his head toward Arthur. “…later, but the Rules say you have to deal with me first.”

  “The Rules…”

  “You break them, we get to break them. Up to you, crud for brains, but you know who’s here and you know what she’s able to do if you give her the chance.”

  The redhead frowned and suddenly squatted, peering into Sam’s face. “I get the feeling we have fought before, you and I. A long time ago, before all…” His gesture managed to encompass the elves, the meat-minds, the mall, Arthur, and their own bodies. “…this.”

  “Well, at least one of us has come up in the world,” Sam snorted. “We gonna fight, or were you planning on talking me to death.”

  “When I kill you,” the redhead purred, straightening, “I will have my name. I will use the subsequent death of the Immortal King to gain the kind of power that will cause whole kingdoms to tremble before me!”

  “Subsequent death? You pick up that word-of-the-day toilet paper at the Emporium?”

  “No, at the stationery shop.”

  “Ah.”

  “Sam.” Arthur stepped forward, Excalibur a gleaming silver line across his body. “I can’t let you do this.”

  “You have no choice,” the redhead snarled, shifted his weight, and swung.

  Sam leaped left. Then right. Then left. Then up and over another planter.

  “Damn it, cat! Hold still!”

  “You think I’m going to hold still because you want me to?” Sam ricocheted off a meat-mind and folded bac
k on himself. “You’re not only evil,” he snorted, raking his claws across the redhead’s wrist as he rocketed by, “you’re not too bright….”

  * * *

  “You, turn on the lights.” As Dr. Rebik stretched a palsied hand toward the switch, Meryat sat down on the edge of the bed. “You, put the bag on the floor and open it.”

  “I don’t think,” Dean began, searching for a protest that would carry some weight.

  “Good. You’re not supposed to think. You’re supposed to do as I say.” She smiled and brushed dry, brittle hair back off her face with fingertips that were still a little black. “So what did I say?”

  “Put the bag on the floor.”

  “Do it.” Her hand closed around Dr. Rebik’s arm. “Or have you forgotten the consequences? He dies, and it’s all your fault.”

  There had to be a way out of this. There had to be. Unfortunately, Dean had no idea of what it was. Coming up with a last minute solution wasn’t in his job description. Run the guesthouse. No problem. Anchor Claire in the real world. Got it covered. Get a high enough gloss on the dining room table that he could stop nagging about coasters. Almost there. He even did windows. Pull a brilliant plan out of nowhere just as things were about to land in the crapper—not likely.

  Where was Austin? The wardrobe door was open about six inches. Was he inside? Waiting for the perfect moment?

  Dean set the writhing bag on the floor.

  Meryat smiled. He really wished she’d stop doing that—although all things considered, her teeth were remarkably good. “Open it.”

  Austin needed to hurry it up. They were rapidly running out of perfect moments.

  Dean dropped to one knee—the last thing he wanted was to be bending over the bag as the basilisk emerged—closed his eyes, and yanked the zipper open.

  The scream of an enraged cat filled all the empty spaces in the room. Adrenaline surged through Dean’s body demanding flight or fight and getting neither. He jerked his eyes open in time to see a scaled tail disappear into the wardrobe.

  Austin leaped from chair, to dresser, to the top of the wardrobe and sat there looking smug. “The half with the brain is a chicken,” he said.

  “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 s
tone, 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.