"CLAIRE!".

"Dean?" Running her tongue over dry lips, she walked over to the window, wondering how the Historian had been able to copy Dean's voice so exactly. She felt her jaw actually drop when she realized she was hearing the original. "Dean!"

Had the T-Rex been animated better. Dean knew he'd have been dead and partially digested by now. Dodging a grotesque, chicken like peck of the huge head, he found himself at the foot of the library steps.

The ma.s.sive tail whipped around.

He jumped, cleared the tail, made a bad landing, stumbled back, and fell.

About a dozen stairs behind and above him, he heard the library door, open and, at the same time, a small herd of pigs appeared on the other side of the intersection squealing loud enough to wake the dead.

Or attract the attention of the dinosaur.

As T-Rex lumbered toward the pork, something grabbed Dean by the shirt and tried to haul him backward up the stairs with no notable success. Before the pressure of the seams across his armpits cut off all circulation in his arms, he managed to get his feet under him and stand.

Claire released both handfuls of fabric as he turned to face her. Two steps apart, they were eye to eye. She went up one more step. "What are you doing here?"

Struggling to catch his breath, Dean gasped, "I came in to save you."

"To save me? Oh, for... Whose bright idea was that?"

Since she was obviously not thrilled by the thought of a rescue attempt, he squared his shoulders. "Mine."

"Don't be ridiculous," Claire snorted. "It was Austin, wasn't it? That cat is fussier than..."

A roar from the T-Rex jerked their attention back into the intersection. Ludicrously small arms raked the air, then it charged.

"Come on!" Grabbing another handful of Dean's shirt, Claire ran for the library door.

"It didn't take long with the pigs."

"That's because they weren't real. Only the Historian can do substance in here, all I can manage is illusion."

"Oh, great, so you've p.i.s.sed it off?"

"Try to remember who's saving whose a.s.s."

The solid stone steps shuddered as the dinosaur started up after them.

"Think about the bedroom!" Claire yelled as they reached the top step. Still clutching his shirt, she thumbed the latch and dragged him through the door after her.

The wardrobe shuddered to a mighty impact as they flung themselves out into the worried presence of Austin and Jacques.

Breathing heavily, Claire lay where she'd fallen, staring under the bed at a pair of fuzzy bunny slippers that weren't hers. Four paws, propelled by a ten-pound cat, landed on her kidneys and a moment later Austin's face peered into hers from over her right shoulder.

"Are you hurt?"

"I'm fine. I'm just a little thirsty." She rolled over, cradled him in her arms, and sat up. Dean had gotten to his feet and was busy trying to pull his T-shirt back into shape. "What," she asked the cat, "was the idea of sending him in after me? If I hadn't shown up in time, he'd have been killed."

"I heard roaring."

"You've heard worse."

"You'd been gone for over an hour."

"I lost track of time. I was reading."

"Reading?" Austin repeated, squirming free and jumping up onto the bed. "You were reading!"

About to mention the dinosaur, Dean's vision suddenly filled with an extreme close-up of a ghost. "Get my cushion," Jacques whispered, "quickly, and we will leave."

"But Claire..." Dean whispered back, trying to see around Jacques' translucent body.

"This you cannot rescue Claire from. And as much as I would like my cushion to remain, pick it up. We are leaving."

"I was worried sick and you were reading?" Austin repeated.

Something in the cat's tone suddenly got through. Eyes wide, Dean stared at Jacques who nodded frantically toward the cushion.

"It wasn't like that, Austin."

"It wasn't like what? It wasn't like you never even considered my feelings? Is that what it wasn't like?"

Careful not to break into the line of sight between cat and Keeper, Dean scooped up Jacques' anchor and the two of them raced into the sitting room.

"So what was it Claire save you from?" Jacques asked as they slowed.

Dean shrugged, the material stretched by Claire's hands riding on his shoulders like tiny wings. "A dinosaur."

"A what?"

"A very big carnivorous lizard."

"Ha! If I can go through the wardrobe, she would not have to rescue me from a big lizard. She would not have to rescue a real man."

"Real men admit it when they need help."

"Since when?"

"I think it started around the mid-eighties."

"Ah. Well, it did not start with me. I would have did what I went into the wardrobe to do."

"You would have done what you went into the wardrobe to do."

"That," said Jacques, staring down his nose at the living man, "is what I said."

"Okay." Dean half-turned toward the bedroom, gesturing with the hand holding the cushion. "If you're so brave, go back in there."