Part 4 (2/2)
”Okay. This is one of those times when I really wish I could swear.” She took three quick steps away from the mirror. Three quick steps back. ”I should have known there was more to this than a cheesy gift shop selling ...” A glance down. ”. . . fake fairies on sticks.”
”Look again.”
Under the lacquer and the glitter . . .
”Eww.”
”Duck!”
”Where?” Diana didn't even want to think about what these guys could do to a duck. A sudden circle of light hit the back wall of the store and she dropped to the ground. Oh. Duck.
The emporium's door rattled as someone shook it, testing the lock.
Now who could that be? Two guesses and the first one doesn't count. Flat against the carpet to keep the curve of her backpack behind cover, she tried not to think about the dark stain just off the end of her nose.
”Think you can get away with anything. Young bodies, supple, lissome.”
Adding that to lithe and limber, there seemed to be a thesaurus specifically for dirty old men.
”You can't hide forever.” The circle of light swept across the store and disappeared. Through the gla.s.s came a m.u.f.fled shunk kree, shunk kree as the security guard moved away.
Remembering the warning delivered by imaginary fingers, Diana hissed, ”Sam, stay down,” a heartbeat before the light flashed back through the window. She counted a slow ten after that light disappeared before she stood. ”Sam?”
He crawled out from behind a box of glow-in-the-dark Silly Putty and shook his fur back into place. ”Don't worry about me. I'm way faster than a geriatric rent-a-cop.”
”Good. So.” Arms folded, she stared up at the mirror. ”Let's cut to the chase before we're interrupted again.”
”Fine with me, Keeper. Here's the deal: I give you what help I can; in return, you get me out of here when you shut this place down.”
”Agreed.”
”And you recognize that when the s.h.i.+t hits the fan, I'm breakable and more than just a little exposed.”
She nodded. ”We'll be careful.”
”We? That would be you and the cat?”
”Us, too.” Diana took one last look around the store and decided she really didn't need to know just what exactly the weights on the wind chimes were made of. ”I think we're going to need a little help.”
Chapter TWO.
Dropping his spray bottle of window cleaner onto the old-fas.h.i.+oned wooden counter, Dean McIssac crossed the small office and caught the phone on the second ring. ”Elysian Fields Guest House.” A small frown of concentration appeared as he flipped open the reservation book, a leather-bound tome with the phases of the moon prominently displayed by each date. ”Yes, sir, we still have rooms available for next Wednesday. We can certainly accommodate you and your mother. Sorry? Oh. Your mummy. No, that's fine; many of our guests arrive after dark. We'll hold the rooms until midnight. A dehumidifier? That can be arranged, I understand how mold and mildew could be a problem. No, unfortunately, I can't guarantee the Keeper will be here, but I'm sure you'll find our . . .” His cheeks flushed. ”Thank you, sir. I'll see you Wednesday.”
”Flushed is a good look on you.”
”Claire!” The receiver fell the last six inches into the cradle as Dean flag-jumped the counter and gathered the smiling Keeper into his arms.
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