Part 58 (1/2)

... had trouble wi th th e vir g i...

”Oh, no!” One by one, faster and faster, the letters slid off the paper and into the brine. For a moment, Claire stared aghast at a journal of blank pages, then the paper turned into a gelatinous ma.s.s and s.h.i.+mmied off the spatula. The resultant splash sprayed a couple of dozen letters up over Claire's hand and sweater.

She staggered back until she hit the edge of the sink, too stunned to speak.

Jumping forward, holding his breath. Dean slapped the lid onto the container. When the seal caught, he hurried around into the kitchen, plucked the spatula from Claire's hand and tipped it almost immediately into the garbage.

”You must wash your hand, cherie,” Jacques told her. ”There is em's upon it. And other letters there upon your sweater.”

”I don't think it'll wash out,” Dean offered.

Jacques sniffed. ”It does not amaze me you also do laundry.”

Slowly Claire lifted her hand to her mouth and touched her tongue to one of the letters.

The two men exchanged a horrified glance.

Her lips drew back off her teeth.

”I do not think she is smiling,” Jacques murmured.

”Spider parts,” Claire snarled. ”That rotten, little piece of h.e.l.l!”

Both men flinched but nothing happened.

”Don't you see?” Claire's glare jerked from one to the other and back again. ”The imp introduced spider parts into the solution. It couldn't have opened the fridge, so it had to have dusted the onions in the bin under the counter just before I started the second batch. It ruined everything!”

OH, VERY WELL DONE.

DO WE GIVE COMPLIMENTS?.

WE GIVE CREDIT WHERE CREDIT IS DUE.

h.e.l.l was silent for a moment. NO, WE DON'T, it said at last.

”Mrs. Abrams is up to something; she's humming. It's an intensely scary sound. Why the long faces?” Austin asked, jumping up on the counter. He sneezed and turned a disgusted glare on the container. ”Haven't you finished with that yet?”

”Oh, yes, I've finished with it.” Claire pulled off her sweater and handed it to Dean who held it much the same way he'd have held a dead jellyfish. ”It's all over. I'm not going to be able to undo what was done because I'll never find out what they did. I can't fix it. I might as well call the locksmith's cousin.”

”What are you talking about?”

”Never mind.” Moving mechanically, she turned, squirted a little dish detergent into her palm and washed her hands.

When Dean explained what had happened, the cat jumped down to rub against her legs.

”Spider parts can get onto onions a number of different ways; you don't know it was an imp. Or even that there is an imp.”

”Don't start with me, Austin.”

Wisely, he let it drop. ”There's still the Historian,” he reminded her.