Part 18 (2/2)
Claire glared at the cat.
Diana punched her lightly on the arm. ”Missing Austin?”
Claire s.h.i.+fted her glare up and over. After a moment, she sighed. ”Yes. A lot. I hope he's all right.”
”Don't worry, he's with Dean. On second thought, worry about Dean.”
”Very funny. I'm sure Austin will be a huge help to Dean at the guest house.”
”You're delusional. You know that, right?”
Claire smiled tightly. ”It helps when you work with cats.”
They watched Sam explore nooks and crannies they couldn't see and listened to the distant sound of someone beating a drum kit to death with a couple of guitars and an electronic keyboard.
”So, Arthur,” Diana said at last, rubbing her nose and moving away from a particularly strong patch of Phobia for Men. ”He came in from outside the mall to bring them together and make them strong.”
”The name could be a coincidence.”
”Oh, please.”
Claire sighed as deeply as the weight of her backpack allowed. ”They needed a leader; he's what their subconscious created.”
Fur between his eyes folded into a darker orange ”w,” Sam frowned up at them both. ”Do you guys know this Arthur?”
”Not this Arthur, but he's just the sort of opportunistic archetype who'd show up in this kind of story. And you never just get him, do you?” Her own brow furrowed, Diana folded her arms.
”We should be glad they're not a little younger,” Claire reminded her. ”Or we might have been dealing with Peter Pan.”
”Yeah, but they've turned themselves into elves. Wouldn't Oberon make more sense?”
”I doubt this lot's read much Shakespeare, but you have; you'd honestly rather deal with Oberon?”
Diana considered it for a moment. ”Okay, good point. a.s.s ears; not a great look. But still, that whole Immortal King c.r.a.p just gets up my nose. Follow me, serve me, love me . . . gag me!”
”Your opinion aside, Arthur is a nice, cla.s.sic, archetypal answer to a leaders.h.i.+p dilemma.”
Arthur turned out to be a tall, broad-shouldered, narrow-hipped young man in his late teens with startlingly blue eyes and a wild shock of blue-black hair that kept falling attractively forward over his face in spite of a silver circlet.
”Okay,” Claire said slowly as they walked toward him, drawn by the brilliant, perfect white crescent of his smile. ”So he's a nice anime archetypal answer to a leaders.h.i.+p dilemma.”
”And we can be grateful they're becoming elves, not pokemon,” Diana added.
Dressed in black and silver-jeans, boots, T-s.h.i.+rt, leather jacket, lots of buckles, and wearing a very large sword across his back, he waited for them in the electronics section of the department store. The sword, at least, should have looked out of place. It didn't.
A burgundy leather sofa and two matching chairs, heavy on the rivets, defined three sides of the s.p.a.ce.
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