Part 80 (1/2)
”Fair point. Claire . . .”
No time to argue. Claire reached up, noted somewhat absently that much of her left hand seemed to be purple, and grabbed the lower edge of the carved and gilded wood. ”I've got it.”
Jack was a lot heavier than he looked. They dragged him past the writhing box of rubber snakes, past the toppling display of scented candles, and reached the concourse just as the windows started to shatter. As the first triangular piece of gla.s.s whistled past, Claire spun him around, his back to the store, and pushed Diana down behind him.
”Claire, we haven't time . . .!”
”To get cut to ribbons? You're right.”
”Hey!” Jack's eyes were as wide as Claire'd seen them. ”Get me farther away! I'm breakable here!”
Barely enough room for them both but barely was better than the alternative. ”Calm down. You've got a wooden backing.”
”Calm down? That's gla.s.s breaking! Lots and lots of breaking gla.s.s! Do you know how that makes me feel?”
”Do I care?” Claire snapped. As Jack's eyes fled to the far corner, two tiny blue pinp.r.i.c.ks deep in the gla.s.s, she sighed. ”I'm sorry. I do care. We've just had a ... bad time.”
”Sort of winning?”
”Yeah.”
Sort of ... Diana lifted her head out of the shelter of her arms and stared into the mirror. She didn't look any different. She should have looked different. Wasn't that the sort of thing that changed a person?
It took her a moment to realize that the mall was totally silent. No more cras.h.i.+ng. No more breaking. No more dying. Apparently, this was as far as it went. ”Claire?” She almost didn't recognize her voice. She sounded about seven. ”Why did she do it?”
Carefully brus.h.i.+ng aside broken gla.s.s, Claire sat down cross-legged on the floor. It wasn't quite a collapse. ”I don't know. I guess she didn't want you to die.”
”Yeah, but it's part of the whole 'saving the world' thing. It's in my job description. Our job description.”
”And it seems that saving you was in hers.”
”I didn't want her to.”
”She didn't ask you.” Claire reached out and wiped away a tear with her thumb. ”We'll get her back.”
”Because you promised?”
”Because it's part of our job description.”
”Right.” Diana dragged her sleeve under her nose, leaving a smear of darker pink across one cheek. ”Time to sit around and sob about things later! Let's get Sam and . . .” She paused, half standing, and c.o.c.ked her head. ”Is there a reason you're flipping me the finger?”
Swelling had moved the second finger on her left hand out from the rest. ”It's broken.”
”It's what?”
”Broken.”
”Why didn't you tell me?”
”When?”