"Cherubs," he muttered, trying to look as though he hadn't been about to lift his tail.

Claire reached out and poked him lightly with her foot. "Come on. We'll start at the back and work our way forward."

When Diana turned to face the cash desk again, the heavily-mascaraed teenager standing behind it was watching her in some confusion.

"Who was she talking to?" she asked, gesturing in the general direction Claire had taken. "If somebody sprays those angels they're, like, going to have to pay for them, you know."

Closing the distance between them, Diana smiled at her. "Please, don't worry about it."

"Okay." She nodded slowly, looking slightly stoned and remarkably happy. Looking, as it happened, very much like she was never going to worry about anything ever again.

"Oops." Apparently, her power problems hadn't been solved by moving off reserve status. Reaching out carefully, Diana tweaked things, just a little, and was relieved to see a frown line reappear.

"If you're looking for something, I can't, like, leave the cash desk, so you'll have to find it yourself."

"Not a problem." There were a dozen tubs, boxes, and spinners of impulse kitsch nearly covering the gla.s.s counter. If customers actually wanted to buy an item larger than a foot square, they were out of luck. Problem was, in a dozen containers of a.s.sorted bits and pieces, the thing she sensed could be ...

In the tub of magic wands.

"You've got to be kidding me."

The clerk blinked and focused. Lips almost as pale as the surrounding skin twitched. "Kids love these."

"I'm sure." Especially if they get one that actually works.

The wands were about eight inches long; a hollow tube of clear Lucite partially filled with a metallic or neon sparkling gel and topped with a plastic star the same color. The fourth one Diana pulled from the tub jerked in her hand, rearranging a display of 'flower of the month' tea cups into a significantly larger porcelain cherub. She was beginning to understand why Sam disliked the things. A quick flick of the wand changed it back.

"What was that?" the clerk demanded, whirling around toward the sound of metal ringing against china.

"Falling halo," Diana told her, continuing to pull wands out of the tub.

"What?"

"Forget about it. Specifically, about it," she added hurriedly, heading off inadvertent amnesia.

"Forget about what?"

Nothing like a cliche to measure effectiveness. "Exactly."

The remainder of the wands were no more than they appeared.

"I'll take this one."

"Whatever. That'll be twelve ninety-five. Plus tax."

"Fourteen ninety-four." Diana complained, showing Claire the wand. "For a piece of plastic c.r.a.p."

Claire stepped aside so that the neon pink star no longer pointed directly at her, she'd seen what had happened to the cups and had no wish to suddenly acquire a useless pair of wings and a winsomely blank expression. "Not a bad price for a working wand, though."

"And the plastic c.r.a.p was on sale for five dollars," Sam added. "There was a whole box of it at the back of the store."

"From the Otherside?"

"No, I think it was from a Rottweiler."

Should have seen that coming. Reaching behind her, Diana slid the wand into a side pocket on her backpack. "Taking this across with us should neutralize it. You're sure there was nothing else?"

"A few Chia Pets left over from Christmas, made on the Otherside, but I checked their bar codes and they were all legally imported."

"Then our work here is done." Diana nodded down the concourse toward the stairs. "Let's go close this sucker down."

"Chia Pets are imported from the Otherside?" Sam asked, as he and Austin fell into step between the Keepers.

"They were part of a whole Free Trade thing that fell apart over softwood lumber."

"That doesn't make any sense."

"And that's what I told them at the time."

"That wasn't what I..." A half glance over at the older cat and Sam realized that it didn't really matter what he'd meant. "Okay. Never mind."

There were more shoppers on the lower levels and a dozen senior citizens in the food court, having coffee and complaining about the way the younger generations were dressing.

"I've had it with my granddaughter," one sighed loudly as the Keepers and cats pa.s.sed her table. "She's constantly borrowing my clothes."

Her companion set down her blueberry bran m.u.f.fin and smoothed her Canadian Girls Kick a.s.s T-shirt over artificially perky b.r.e.a.s.t.s. "I hear you, Elsie. I hear you."

"That was disturbing," Diana muttered as they headed down the last short hall toward the Emporium. "Didn't you find that disturbing?"

Claire shrugged. "Not really, but then I'm not wearing the same shirt as a seventy-year-old."

"Hey, hers was red on white, mine's white on red. Not the same shirt!"

"Okay."

Marvin Travel, The Tailor of Gloucester, The Erlking Emporium . . .

Trying to appear as though they were just resting, they sat down on the bench across from the Emporium and took turns glancing through the open door.

"Is that your troll?" Claire asked.

"Okay, first; not my troll. And second, why couldn't he have a part-time teenager covering the weekend shifts like almost every other store in the mall?"

"That could be a part-time teenager."

"Good point."

Given the wide variations in human physiognomy, the troll could pa.s.s, provided no one looked too closely and were willing to ignore an unfortunate truth; most humans his color had been dead for a couple of days. A couple of hot days. His head was bald, his goatee had probably come off a real goat, his sungla.s.ses appeared to be Ralph Lauren. He was just over six feet tall and only one short third of that was leg. Huge fists dangled even with his knees.