Part 71 (1/2)

There was her diversion.

While h.e.l.l's attention was on the destruction of Arthur and Claire, she'd take her one shot with the wand and pour everything she had into closing the hole.

And it would take everything, too.

As plans went, it sucked, worst case scenario left the ground littered with bodies, but at least now she had a plan.

”I'm after having second thoughts about this plan. That is one p.i.s.sed-off basilisk!”

Austin smacked at another bit of rolling canvas. ”You're surprised? You don't go zipping mythological creatures into hockey bags and expect them to be pleased about it.” He dug his claws into the upholstery as Dean turned the truck into the guest house driveway. ”Later, when we've got the time, remind me to tell you about what happened when Claire stuffed a pixie into her purse.”

”Messy?”

”In a manner of speaking.” The truck rocked forward and back, the jerky stop giving Austin some indication of the state of Dean's mind. He didn't really care about the state of Dean's mind, but he had a pretty good idea of what was going on up there. ”You're wondering if you can go through with this.”

”Yeah.”

”You're concerned because, sure she's an evil, life-sucking mummy, but is that any reason to turn her to stone.”

”Yeah.”

”And you're thinking that a life-sized statue of a reanimated corpse is not only going to destroy the ambiance of the guest house but will probably gouge the h.e.l.l out of the hardwood floors when you try to move it.”

”I'm not thinking ambiance!”

Austin took a swipe at the immaculate white fur on his shoulder. ”Too many syllables for you?”

”I'm thinking . . .”

As the pause extended, he looked up to see Dean clutching the sides of the steering wheel, his head bowed and resting against the top curve. ”Stop.”

”Stop what?”

”Stop thinking.” He stood, stretched, smacked the hockey bag again, and put his paw on Dean's thigh. ”Look, you're just a Bystander and you should never have had to deal with anything stranger than laundry instructions. That said, although I'll call you a liar if you ever repeat this, you're dealing with it admirably. Just keep dealing with it and you'll be fine.”

”I don't look like a man who's in over his head . . . OW!”

Austin retracted his claws and muttered, ”You look like a man with Wood on his jeans and a basilisk in a hockey bag. Get over yourself and let's get on with this. I'm hot, I'm hungry, and I'm missing Oprah.”

The guest house was cool and quiet as Dean pushed open the back door. With the curtains pulled across the dining room's big windows, the sun hadn't had a chance to heat things up. And that was good because the air outside was rapidly approaching dry roast. He wasn't so sure about the shadows, though; they made the place look mysterious, spooky even and, all things considered, that wasn't exactly rea.s.suring.

Grunting as a tail or a foot or a wing or something caught him in the stomach, he heaved the hockey bag up onto the dining room table. Then grabbed it as the basilisk's struggles sent it skittering across the highly polished surface. Okay, maybe he had gone a little overboard with the wax.

”Dean.”

Heart in his throat, he whirled around. ”Jaysus, Dr. Rebik, don't be sneaking up on me like that!”

The old man managed half a smile. ”Sorry.”

Old man.