"Nothing much. We might have an imp infestation, I'm fairly certain it, or they, damped down my shoes the first night I was here." She saw no point in mentioning the voice. Not only had it been a highly subjective experience, but she'd stopped telling her mother everything that went on in her head the day Colin Rorke had kissed her behind the football bleachers. "This morning, my reflection offered me eternal youth and beauty."

Martha sighed as she shrugged out of her jacket. "I've said it before and I'll say it again, evil has no imagination. Probably why so much of it ends up in munic.i.p.al politics. They'll be back, you know, and the temptations will escalate as they come to know you better."

"I expect I'll seal the site before that becomes a problem."

"But surely it's already sealed."

"No, Mom, I mean seal it closed."

"Closed?"

"That must be why I'm here," Claire a.s.serted. "I couldn't possibly have been summoned to an epistemological babysitting job as though I were too old to do anything but slap my power over a site and make sure nothing creeps out around the edges."

"This hole..."

"Is huge, but it doesn't change the job description."

"And have you determined how you're going to close the hole and simultaneously take care of..." She jerked her head toward the third floor.

"Not yet, but I'm working on it. I was hoping that you, with your greater experience and years of work in the field, could throw a little light on the problem."

"Suck up," Austin muttered.

Lips twitching, Martha bent and picked up her overnight case. "Let me drop this off in my room, and then I'll go take a look at your problems. The sooner I see them, the sooner I can tell you what you need to hear."

Claire grabbed the key to room two and hurried to catch up on the stairs, frowning as she got a good look at the feet she followed. "I wish you wouldn't wear socks and sandals, Mom."

"It's the end of September, Claire, I can hardly wear either alone."

"But they make you look like an aging hippie."

"Truth in advertising; nothing wrong with that. Now, I wish you'd wear a little less makeup. It makes you look like..."

"Don't start. Mom."

"My. This is medieval." Walking slowly, examining each line, Martha circled the pit. "In my experienced opinion," she said after a moment, "you do, indeed, have a hole to h.e.l.l in your furnace room. Or more specifically a manifestation of evil conforming to the cla.s.sic parameters of Hel, -the popularity of which, I've never entirely understood." Glancing up at the ductwork, she added, "Mind you, I expect it keeps the heating costs down." Her hand shot out and jerked Claire back a step. "Don't pace on the pentagram."

Folding her arms, Claire mirrored her mother's elan. Mostly, it was an act although as the second exposure came without the shock of discovery, she found it a little easier to cope. "I know it's a hole to h.e.l.l," she said, trying to sound as if her teeth weren't clenched together. "But since it's linked rather irrevocably to room six, I was hoping you might have some ideas on how to separate them. Some advice on what I should do first."

YOU COULD RELEASE US.

"n.o.body asked you."

WE'D BE GOOD.

"Liar."

WELL, YES.

"I don't think you should argue with it, Claire." Slipping on her gla.s.ses, Martha pointed toward the lettering etched into the bedrock, being very careful not to trace anything in the air that could be interpreted as a pattern. A Cousin shouldn't be able to affect an accident site but, given the site in question, that wasn't a tenet she intended to test. "That," she said, "is the name of the person responsible for this situation. I expect he died right after he finished the invocation. Notice the similar pattern around Sara's name."

Eyes beginning to water from the sulfur, Claire studied the design. It wasn't an exact match, but close enough for Keeper work. "Just as we thought, she tried to gain control. If h.e.l.l offered her power in exchange for freedom, that must've come as an unpleasant surprise."

"I can't say that I find myself feeling too terribly sorry for it," her mother murmured.

NO ONE EVER DOES, h.e.l.l sighed.

"Do shut up. Now then, I think we've been in here long enough." Martha took hold of her daughter's arm and guided her up the stairs. "Hopefully, we'll find out more from a thorough examination of Aunt Sara."

GIVE HER OUR REGARDS.

"Don't count on it."

"Well?" Austin asked from the top of the washing machine as they tightened the chains across the closed door. He had point-blank refused to go back into the furnace room.

"She wants to go see her," Claire told him, pointing upward.

"You should take Dean with you."

"Are you out of your mind? Has he been feeding you on the sly?"

The cat's eyes narrowed. "Read my lips, he's a part of this."

"You don't have lips."

"A moot point. Your mother will have to meet him sooner or later."

"She can meet him later."

Martha started toward the other end of the bas.e.m.e.nt. "Are his rooms down here?"

"Yes, but..."

"Austin thinks we should take Dean, and I'm inclined to agree."

Claire threw up her hands. "Mom, Austin thinks baby birds are a snack food."

"What does that have to do with this?"

"Listen to your mother, Claire," Austin murmured as he padded by.

She managed to resist kicking him and hurried to catch up, wishing she'd remembered that her mother's professional opinion carried personal baggage along with it. "I don't want Dean told about what's in the furnace room."

"You don't think he deserves to know the truth?"

"He knows there's an accident site; telling him that he's bedding down next to a hole leading to a cla.s.sical manifestation of a Christian h.e.l.l will only compromise his safety."

"In what way?"