Таня Хафф - Long Hot Summoning

“At least he dresses well.”

“Yeah. Nice tie. I wonder what kind of leather it is.”

“Not what,” Austin said, jumping up onto the bench. “Who.”

“Eww.”

“His shoes seem to match.”

“Like I said, eww.”

“It’s your Summons,” Claire pointed out. “How do we get past him?”

“We’ve got someone on the inside, remember?” Diana stood, stretched, and started toward the window. Do-it-Yourself Voodoo Kits were forty percent off. Faking an interest in the display, she slid sideways until she could see herself reflected at the very outside edge of the mirror’s curve. Blue-on-blue eyes drifted up from the depths.

“Hey, Boss!”

The troll’s head jerked around, taking most of his upper body with it owing to a distinct lack of neck. “Are you insane? What if we’d had customers?”

“Then they’d probably be a little freaked by the way the rubber snakes are moving.”

“What, again? I knew I shouldn’t have trusted that warty little reject from Santa’s workshop.” Bitching about the way salesmen took advantage of honest retailers, he stomped out from behind the counter and across the store.

Diana, who’d returned to the bench, grabbed Claire’s arm. “Now.”

When they reached the store, she tugged her sister lower. “Duck!”

Claire almost pulled out of her grip. “Where?”

“Cute, but we did that one already. Just stay low.”

A rubbery squelch and a satisfied, “Let’s see how much moving you do with your tail stuffed down your throat,” propelled them all through the door to the supply room.

There was no immediate sound of pursuit.

And the one nice thing about trolls, Diana acknowledged, they don’t sneak worth a damn. “Do you think he saw us?”

“Let’s not risk it.” Claire took three long strides across the storeroom to the steel door that led to the mall’s access corridors. She frowned at the hand-lettered “Staff Only” sign, then yanked the door open. “Come on. We’ve got to be out there to cross over anyway. This is the safest place to emerge into and in order to emerge, we have to exit.”

Diana nodded. “An obvious but valid point. Sam…” She slipped through after the cat.

Austin followed her.

Claire followed him, checked to make sure they could get the door open again, and carefully closed it.

They found themselves in a concrete corridor where grimy fluorescent bulbs shed just enough light to illuminate a recurring pattern of stains at the base of the walls. The air smelled of old urine and older French fry grease.

Pivoting to the right, Diana took a step toward the ninety-degree turn only a few meters away. “I’ve always wondered what it looked like back here.”

“Here specifically?” Austin snorted.

“No, you know, in back of the shopping parts of shopping malls.”

“You need to get out more.”

“And we need to get out of here,” Claire reminded them, her hand on the latch. “This is where the troll crosses over; there’s so much power residue on and around this door, we’ll be able to use it without even causing a blip on their radar.”

“Unless we send up a major ‘hey look at me’ flare because we’re going in the opposite direction.”

All eyes turned toward the younger cat.

“Sorry. Bit of leftover higher knowledge. It’s possible. But not very likely,” Sam added hurriedly as Austin advanced on him. “I mean, power residue’s power residue; right? And besides, what would I know.”

“Austin!”

Austin shot a “spoilsport” glare at Claire and suddenly became very interested in cleaning his shoulder, his claws almost totally retracted again.

“It’s my Summons.” Diana reached out for the latch. “The risk should be mine.”

Claire shook her head, blocking Diana’s hand. “If one of us is going to send up a flare, I’d rather they knew about me—leaving the more powerful Keeper in reserve.”

“That’s a good point, but here’s a better one. We don’t know what we’ll face on the other side of this door. I should cross first to make sure we’re not stopped before we get started.”

“Why don’t we cross together. They won’t get a good reading from either of us and we’ll be ready for whatever we have to face.”

“But I get to take it out.”

“Be my guest.”

On Diana’s nod, Claire threw open the door.

* * *

The storeroom on the Otherside looked almost exactly like the storeroom they’d left behind. The same metal utility shelves, the same jumble of empty boxes, the same overstock. The only real difference was the light—low, diffuse, and slightly green.

The two Keepers stood weighing the silence for danger.

“Hey.” Sam jumped up on a stack of old plastic milk crates. “Where’s Austin?”

THREE

O NE MINUTE,he had the tip of an orange tail in his face. The next, he felt the possibilities shift and he was walking alone into the storeroom they’d just left.

The door to the access corridor was closed.

The door to the store was closed.

Austin sat down, wrapped his tail around his front feet, and glared at nothing in particular. The urge to piss on something was intense. Like all cats, he knew when he was being told “No!”; he usually ignored it, but he knew.

He’d just been told in no uncertain terms.

The possibilities would not allow him to cross over.

When the door to the access corridor remained closed, his eye narrowed. Had she been able to, Claire would have returned immediately to find him. She hadn’t, so therefore she couldn’t. The question now became: why?

Fortunately, there was a way to find out.

Unfortunately, even up on his hind legs, he could just barely stretch to touch the bottom of the latch plate.

Okay, new plan.

Dropping to all fours, he stared at the closed door, a position proven to bring a talking monkey trotting to his assistance.

“Not a problem, ladies, I’ve got more T-shirt sizes in the back room.”

Or possibly a talking whatever the troll claimed as an evolutionary precedent.

As the door opened, Austin slid in behind a crate marked with both a biohazard and a live cargo symbol. Curious, he took a sniff at one of the air holes, but the crate was empty and had been for some time—probably a good thing although he could easily imagine scenarios where it wouldn’t be. With the troll’s full attention fixed on pulling an XXX large Astarte Fan Club out of a shipping carton of T-shirts, he slipped through the doorway and into the Emporium.

A fast right, a dive under a raised display case, a quick creep forward belly to the ground brought him behind a basket of small plastic jewelry boxes. Head cocked, he listened for the straining gears that would indicate someone with a desire to hear music played on pieces of bent tin had wound the key. When he finally found a silent box, he flipped it open. The miniature Republican in a frilly pink tutu remained motionless in front of the mirror.

Austin smacked the tiny politician out of his way and tipped the box back until its mirror reflected only the security mirror up by the ceiling.

Fortunately, cats were masters of refraction.

The direct approach would have taken him right into the troll’s line of sight now that the big guy was back at the counter explaining washing instructions to the T-shirt’s new owner—apparently, the bloodstains were not supposed to come out.

Blue-on-blue eyes drifted up from the depths of the jewelry box mirror.

“What are you doing here?” the mirror demanded, its usual booming tones more of a low tinkle.

Muzzle so close his breath fogged the glass. “The possibilities wouldn’t let me cross.”