Part 12 (1/2)

”It's a t.i.tle, not a relations.h.i.+p,” Claire snapped. He looked so abashed she couldn't help adding, ”But, essentially, yes. We found her name written in the furnace room. For safety's sake, we can't tell you what it is.”

Replacing his gla.s.ses, Dean straightened in his chair, shoulders squared, both feet flat on the spotless linoleum. ”Written in the furnace room? On the wall?”

”The floor actually.” It was very nearly the strongest reaction he'd had all morning. Claire wasn't entirely certain how she felt about that.

”Okay. As soon as you're done, I'll get right on it.”

”On it? And do what?”

”Get rid of it. I've got an industrial cleanser designed for graffiti,” he told her with the kind of reverence in his voice most males his age reserved for less cleansing pleasures. ”Last spring, some kids decorated the side wall, the one facing the driveway, and this stuff took it right off the brick. Took off a bit of the mortar, too, but I fixed that.”

”You'll just stay out of the furnace room, thank you very much.” Although it would be a unique solution, it wasn't likely to be a successful one. Fortunately, the dampening field would keep him from attempting it on his own.

Brow creased, he shook his head. ”I hate to leave a mess...”

”I don't care.” Claire smiled tightly across the table at him. ”This time, you're going to.”

”Okay. You're the boss,” he sighed, slumping back into his chair. ”But why can't you tell me her name?”

”Because Austin was right...”

”I usually am,” the cat muttered.

”... and we really don't want to wake her.”

Dean nodded. ”Because she's evil. What did she do? Try to use the power coming out of the hole for her own ends?”

Claire felt her jaw drop. ”That's exactly what she tried to do? How did you know?”

”I just thought it was obvious. I mean, she was corrupted by the dark side of the force, but another Keeper showed up to stop her just in time, and although she was beaten in a fair fight, she couldn't be killed because that would bring the good guys down to her level, so they put her to sleep instead as kind of a temporary solution.”

Mouth open, Claire stared across the table at him.

Dean felt his cheeks grow warm. ”But I'm just guessing.” When she didn't respond, he squirmed uneasily in his chair. ”It's what they'd do in the movie.”

”What movie?” The question slipped out an octave higher than usual.

”Not an actual movie,” Dean protested hurriedly, not entirely certain what he'd done wrong. ”It's just what they'd do in a movie. If they did a movie. But they wouldn't.” He'd never actually heard a cat laugh before. ”I still don't know why her name would wake her.”

Ignoring Austin, who seemed in danger of falling off the chair, Claire wrapped the tattered remains of her dignity around her, well aware that this bystander seven years her junior had offered his last statement out of kindness, deliberately handing back control of the conversation. ”Names,” she said, coolly, ”are more than mere labels; they're one of the things that connect us to each other and to the world.” Which was one of the reasons she wasn't planning on identifying the hole in the furnace room. If Dean thought of h.e.l.l by name, it could give the darkness a connection and easier access.

One of the reasons.

What they'd do in the movie, indeed.

”If she does get woken up,” Dean wondered, frowning slightly, ”is she able for you?”

”Say what?”

He hurriedly translated his question into something a mainlander could understand. ”Is she stronger than you?”