"Hong and I had a small argument."

"Like the argument you had with Matt?"

"No."

There was a lengthening, a scornful p.r.o.nunciation of that second letter that only a teenager could manage. At twenty, the ability was lost. Three years, Claire told herself, just three more years. She'd been ten when Diana was born and the sudden appearance of a younger sister had come as a complete surprise. Over the years, although she loved Diana dearly, the surprise had turned to apprehension, being around her was somewhat similar to being around sweating dynamite. "These people are supposed to be training you. You could a.s.sume they know what they're doing."

"Yeah, well, they're old and they never let me do anything."

"I haven't time to get into this with you right now. Put Mom on, please."

"Duh, Claire, it's Sunday morning."

She took a minute to whack herself on the forehead with the receiver. She'd completely forgotten. "Could you ask her to call me the moment she gets home from church?"

"You didn't say the magic word."

"Diana!"

"Chill, I'm kidding. What's the matter anyway? You sound like you just looked into the depths of h.e.l.l."

Reflecting, not for the first time, that her little sister had an appalling amount of power from someone with an equally appalling amount of self-confidence, Claire smoothed the lingering tremors out of her voice. "Just ask her to call me, please." She read the number off the dial. "It's important."

Dean could hear Claire talking on the phone as he came up the bas.e.m.e.nt stairs. Ignoring the temptation to eavesdrop, as much as he wanted to know what she was saying, it would've been rude, he continued on into the kitchen, where he found Austin attempting to open the fridge.

"They build garage door openers, push of a b.u.t.ton and you can park your car, but does anyone ever think of building something like that for a fridge. No." He pulled his claws out of the rubber seal and glared up at Dean. "What does a cat have to do to get breakfast around here?"

"Are you okay?"

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"A few minutes ago..."

Austin interrupted with an explosive snort. "That was then, this is now." Rising onto his hind legs, he rested his front paws just above Dean's denim-covered knee, claws extended only enough for emphasis. "You look like a nice guy, why don't you feed me?"

"Austin!"

"That's my name," he sighed, dropping back to all four feet. "Don't wear it out."

As Claire came around the corner, she was amazed at how familiar it seemed, as though this were the twenty-second not merely the second time she'd walked into the kitchen. Layered between the sleeping Sara and h.e.l.l, there was a comforting domesticity about the whole thing. She shuddered.

"Are you okay?" Dean asked.

"I'm fine. I just had a vision of an unpleasant future." Shaking her head, hoping to clear it, she added, "My mother wasn't home, but I left a message with my sister. She'll call later."

Austin jumped up onto the counter. "Why was your sister home!"

"The usual."

"Anyone get hurt?"

"I didn't ask."

Leaning back against the sink, Dean looked down at his sock-covered feet. Had she not been his boss, he would've asked her if she wasn't a little old to be calling her mum when she ran into a problem.

"Dean?"

He glanced up to see Claire staring at him.

"Penny for your thoughts?"

Instinct caught the coin she tossed, and to his surprise he found himself repeating his musing aloud.

"No, I am not too old to call my mother," she said when he finished, ignoring the cat's muttered, "Serves you right for asking."

"My mother has been in the business a lot longer than I have, and I could use her professional advice since not one thing that happened this morning was what I expected. Not room six, not the furnace room, not you."

"Not me?"

"If Austin wasn't so convinced that you're a part of this whole mess, we'd be sitting down to rearrange your memories right about now."

Dean squelched his initial response, why ask if she could do it when there was absolutely nothing in that statement to suggest she couldn't. "If it's all the same to you, I'd like to keep my memories the way they are."

"Good for you." Austin sat down and stared pointedly at the fridge. "So if we're not going to adjust the status quo until your mother's had a look, what are we waiting for? When do we eat?"

Claire sighed. "I think Dean's waiting for an explanation."

"I already explained," Austin protested, twisting out from under Claire's hand. "He told me he believed in magic. I told him that's what was going on."

"That's not much of an explanation."

"It's enough to tide him over until after breakfast."

They surrendered to the inevitable. While Dean cooked for Claire, she ran up to her room to get a can of cat food.

As she put the saucer of beige puree on the floor, Austin glanced down in disgust and then glared up at her. "I can smell perfectly good sausages," he complained.

"Which you're not allowed to have. Remember what the vet said, at your age the geriatric cat food will help keep you alive."

"One sausage couldn't hurt," Dean offered, his expression as he looked into the saucer much the same as the cat's.

Claire caught his wrist and moved the hand holding the fork holding the sausage back over the plate. "Austin's seventeen years old," she told him. "Would you feed one of these to someone who was a hundred and two?"

"I guess not."

"You won't live forever; it'll only seem that way," Austin muttered around a mouthful of food.

As Dean carried the loaded plate over to one of the small tables in the dining room, Claire attempted to organize her thoughts. Of the morning's three surprises, four if she counted Augustus Smythe disappearing and leaving her the hotel. Dean was actually the one she felt least qualified to deal with. When it came right down to it, Sara and h.e.l.l and Augustus Smythe were variations on a theme, extreme variations, really extreme variations, granted, but nothing entirely unique. On the other hand, in almost ten years of sealing sites, she'd never had to explain herself to a bystander. Manipulate perceptions so she could do her job, yes. Actually, to tell the truth, the whole truth, no.