Part 72 (2/2)
”Now who's sounding like Austin. What makes you think I'm talking about you?”
Claire winced. That had been incredibly insensitive of her. ”I'm sorry, Diana. Did you have a problem you want me to help with?”
She grinned and shook her head. ”No. But if you want, I'll come by and figure out how to deal with Sara, seal the pit, and get your b.u.t.t on the road again.”
”Diana!”
”Oh, chill, Claire.” Dark brows dipped into a disdainful frown. ”I'm five hundred and forty-one kilometers away, she's not going to hear me.”
”Your b.u.t.t is in a sling if she has!” Claire could feel nothing through the s.h.i.+eld. Unfortunately, that only meant she hadn't yet gone through the s.h.i.+eld. ”If you'll excuse me, and even if you won't, I'm going to go check and see if you've started Armageddon.” Ignoring protests, she closed the curtain with one hand and pulled at the neck of her cotton turtleneck with the other, telling herself that the room hadn't suddenly gotten warmer. She wasn't quite running as she crossed the sitting room.
”Can I a.s.sume you're not hurrying out to feed me?” Austin asked. ”Who were you talking to?”
”Diana.”
”Subverting a powerless postcard? Typical. What did she have to say for herself?”
”Nothing much. Her name. Out loud. Through a power link. If she's woken her up...”
Austin caught up to Claire at the door. ”What are you going to do.”
”Beats me. You know any good lullabies?”
Out in the lobby, Dean looked up from prying open a new gallon of paint as Keeper and cat raced for the stairs. ”Problem, Boss?”
”I don't know.”
”Need my help?”
Five weeks ago, even three weeks ago, she'd have snapped off an impatient ”No.” What good would a bystander be against a Keeper who'd attempted to control h.e.l.l? Today she paused and actually considered the possibilities before answering. ”There's nothing you can do.”
”Is it her?” Jacques asked, materializing as they started up the second flight of stairs.
”It could be,” Claire panted, silently cursing the circ.u.mstances that made the elevator inoperative. It seemed to take forever to open the padlock, and the lack of noise from inside room six was surprisingly uncomforting.
The s.h.i.+eld was intact. Aunt Sara lay, as she had, on the bed. The only footprints in the dust were Claire's, laid over her mother's, laid over her own and Dean's. She stepped forward, following the path, and studied the sleeping woman's face with narrowed eyes.
No change.
Sighing deeply, she took what felt like her first unconstricted breath since Diana had called Aunt Sara's name.
And sneezed.
Nose running, eyeb.a.l.l.s beginning to itch, she backed out of the room and relocked the door.
”We are safe?” Jacques demanded from the top of the stairs. ”She sleeps?”
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