Chronicles Of The Keeper - The Long Hot Summoning - Part 5
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Part 5

"You made good time," he murmured when they finally came up for air.

"I had a good reason."

"One that I should know about?"

Dark brown eyes gleamed suggestively up at him. "Definitely."

His fingers tightened on her shoulders and he began to pull her close again.

"Hel-lo! Crushing the cat here!"

Dean released his hold like he had springs in his fingers, and Claire leaped back, exposing the indignant, black-and-white cat cradled between them. "I'm sorry, Austin. I just got excited about being home."

"Oh, yeah," he muttered as she set him carefully on the counter. "It's home that gets you excited. Tell us another one. No, wait . . ." He turned and glared at her from a single emerald eye. ". . . don't."

"Okay." Her hands free, she slid them up the sculpted muscle of Dean's torso and around the back of his neck, fingers entwined in thick hair. "I can't resist a man in a pink T-shirt."

He shifted his grip to her waist, thumbs working against the damp line of flesh between cropped tank and skirt. "Someone buried a red catnip square in the laundry basket."

"That's right. Blame the cat. The starving cat!" Austin snapped after a moment when it became quite clear he'd been forgotten again. "The old starving cat who just spent three hours in a car listening to sappy tales of dear, departed m.u.f.fy, who probably threw herself in front of that truck in an effort to escape the schmaltz with what was left of her dignity. The old starving cat who's going to give you a count of three before he starts making pointed comments about your technique!"

"Austin, there's a package of calf liver in the fridge." Dean slid his hands down to the backs of Claire's thighs and lifted her up onto the counter, hiking her skirt up over her knees. "It's after being yours if you'll disappear for ten minutes."

"Fifteen," Claire growled, licking at the sweat beading Dean's throat. She kicked off her sandals, crossed her ankles behind him, and dragged him closer.

"You guys do know this is a hotel, right? Like, get a room!"

Forehead to forehead, Dean stared deep into Claire's eyes. "You didn't lock the door?"

"Apparently not."

Lip curled in disgust, Diana closed the front door, pointedly locked it, and strode across the lobby toward the long hall that led to the back of the guesthouse. "We've got a bit of shopping-mall-takes-over-the-world situation here, but you guys go right ahead and continue with that whole blatant heteros.e.xuality thing; there's probably time. I'll just make myself a sandwich and feed the cats. Coming, Austin?"

"Finally," he snorted, jumping carefully down off the counter, "someone who has their priorities straight!"

"Are they always like that?" Sam wondered as the older cat fell into step beside him.

"Are you kidding? They've only been apart for three days, you should see them after a week. Spontaneous combustion."

Sam frowned. "Wouldn't that kill them?"

"You'd think."

As the footsteps of the two cats and her sister faded toward the kitchen, Claire sighed. "Well, I'm no longer in the mood. You?"

"Not so much. That was after ending things for me." He lifted her down off the counter and steadied her while she slipped her sandals back on. "Just so I'm clear on this; strangling your sister is not an option, then?"

"If you want to strangle my sister," Claire told him as they left the lobby, "you'll have to wait in line."

"I hope you guys postponed instead of finishing," Diana snorted as they entered the kitchen, "because if that was it, Claire should file a complaint. I mean it's not like I'm an expert on these things," she continued, a.s.saulting a leftover roast with the carving knife, "but someone's getting left a little short. No offense." She grinned up at Dean.

"And yet, I'm offended anyway." Grasping her wrist with one hand, he confiscated the knife with the other and jerked his head toward the dining room table. "You sit. I'll do this."

"I don't know, Dean. I like my sandwiches made slowly and with care."

"And you might want to reconsider further commentary," Claire interjected from the dining room, "since he's eight inches taller than you and holding a knife."

"Please," Diana scoffed, grabbing a bottle of juice from the fridge and coming around the counter that separated the two rooms, "Dean's a p.u.s.s.ycat."

"Now, I'm offended," Austin muttered.

Sam looked up from his cat food and frowned. "I thought you liked him."

"Yeah. So?"

"I don't understand."

"You're not supposed to," Claire told the younger cat comfortingly. "Let it go and move on." Pulling out one of the antique table's dozen chairs, she folded a leg up onto the red velvet seat and sat, indicating that Diana should do the same.

Diana didn't so much sit as gang up with gravity to a.s.sault the furniture.

Claire winced as the chair protested, but hundred-year-old joints and wood glue held. "You said something about a shopping mall taking over the world?"

"I'm amazed you heard me."

"You have a talent for attracting attention. I a.s.sume this concerns your first Summons as an active Keeper?"

"Got it in one." Smiling her thanks at Dean for the sandwich, she waited until he sat down and pulled his seat up close behind Claire's before she continued. "It all started this afternoon on what was, thank G.o.d, my very last day of school ..."

When the story arrived at the mall, Claire interrupted.

"You should have called me."

"Chill, uberKeeper. You weren't in Kingston, and until I actually got to the Emporium, all I had was a piece of ugly jewelry. I'd have been further ahead closing down the Home Shopping Network. Unfortunately, once at the Emporium, I discovered we're talking about a little more than a mere accident site, according to the magic mirror they're using for security . . ."

"Magic mirror?" Dean leaned forward, one hand on Claire's shoulder. "Like in the fairy tales?"

"Just like. Well, not exactly like," Diana amended after chewing and swallowing the last mouthful of sandwich. "He's a little p.i.s.sed about being yanked out of retirement by Gaston the Wondertroll and is willing to do what he can to close the whole thing down."

"Troll?"

She nodded. "They're not just under bridges anymore."

"According to the magic mirror," Claire prompted, poking her sister with a Tahiti Sands-tipped finger.

"Ow."

"Diana . . ."