"I don't think," Dean began, searching for a protest that would carry some weight.

"Good. You're not supposed to think. You're supposed to do as I say." She smiled and brushed dry, brittle hair back off her face with fingertips that were still a little black. "So what did I say?"

"Put the bag on the floor."

"Do it." Her hand closed around Dr. Rebik's arm.

"Or have you forgotten the consequences? He dies, and it's all your fault."

There had to be a way out of this. There had to be. Unfortunately, Dean had no idea of what it was. Coming up with a last minute solution wasn't in his job description. Run the guesthouse. No problem. Anchor Claire in the real world. Got it covered. Get a high enough gloss on the dining room table that he could stop nagging about coasters. Almost there. He even did windows. Pull a brilliant plan out of nowhere just as things were about to land in the c.r.a.pper, not likely.

Where was Austin? The wardrobe door was open about six inches. Was he inside? Waiting for the perfect moment?

Dean set the writhing bag on the floor.

Meryat smiled. He really wished she'd stop doing that-although all things considered, her teeth were remarkably good. "Open it."

Austin needed to hurry it up. They were rapidly running out of perfect moments.

Dean dropped to one knee, the last thing he wanted was to be bending over the bag as the basilisk emerged, closed his eyes, and yanked the zipper open.

The scream of an enraged cat filled all the empty s.p.a.ces in the room. Adrenaline surged through Dean's body demanding flight or fight and getting neither. He jerked his eyes open in time to see a scaled tail disappear into the wardrobe.

Austin leaped from chair, to dresser, to the top of the wardrobe and sat there looking smug. "The half with the brain is a chicken," he said.

"You do realize that a basilisk would have no effect on me," Meryat murmured conversationally.

"Obviously not," Austin purred in much the same tone.

"But since there's one available, I was thinking that turning Dean here to stone would reverberate through their bond and bring the Keeper racing back believing she was about to face a basilisk."

"Whereas sucking Dean dry would bring her back prepared to face you."

"Exactly. While she's dealing with the lesser threat, I will . . ."

". . . suck her dry and regain youth, beauty, and power in one fell swoop."

"What a smart kitty you are. I think the Keeper might miss you more. Get down from there."

"Or you'll what?" Austin snorted. "Suck Dean dry? You're going to do that anyway. Kill Dr. Rebik? Talk to someone who cares."

"I see cats haven't changed much in three thousand years."

He looked seriously affronted. "Why should we?"

"Excellent point. All right, if you won't cooperate, I suppose I'll have to return to my original plan. Dean, get the creature out of the wardrobe. Try to pick an attractive pose; you'll be holding it for very long time."

Turned to stone, he'd have a chance at being turned back when Claire kicked mummy b.u.t.t. With his life sucked out . . . Dean glanced back at Dr. Rebik who seemed to have fallen asleep propped up against the wall. He stood and headed for the wardrobe where he found seventeen pairs of shoes, a crumpled pile of Claire's clothes . . .

"What are you doing?" Meryat demanded.

"Hanging things up."

"Well, stop it!"

. . . but no basilisk.

The wardrobe was Claire's usual access to the Otherside. He'd used it himself once, following the path Claire had laid down. But this time, Claire'd crossed over in the mall, so no path. No escape for him. Apparently, basilisks were mythological enough to make their own way over. Dean pressed his hand flat against the back wall, the wood rough and rea.s.suring under his palm. That's it, La.s.sie . . . Collies. Basilisks. Whatever. . . . bring back help.

Oh, Hel... p. Claire stood at the entrance to a huge circular cavern and stared at the pit in the middle of it. No wonder the power fluctuations seemed so familiar. Been there. Done that. Should've got the T-shirt.

Not a segue, a hole. A hole capped only by an incomplete segue. The moment the segue was finished, h.e.l.l itself would have unlimited access to four acres of suburban Kingston. Which was not a redundant observation, no matter how much Claire hated the suburbs.

The problem was: how did she close a hole to h.e.l.l without access to the possibilities? Marbles and spices were not going to be enough.

The wand.

If Diana still had it, it was their only chance.

If.

Belief in this instance would accomplish nothing, but as it would do no harm, Claire decided to believe, with all her heart, that Diana had the wand.

She leaned a little farther around the edge of the cavern entrance and finally spotted her sister by the side wall. Not injured. Not even confined. Her hands were wrapped around various bits of Kris and Kris' hand were . . . actually, Claire couldn't see what Kris' hands were doing, but the result seemed to be a fair bit of wiggling. Neither of them seemed too upset by their captivity.

TEENAGERS, h.e.l.l sighed. If the pit had eyes, they'd have been rolling.

The groping had to be part of Diana's plan.

Forcing h.e.l.l to underestimate her.

Lulling h.e.l.l into a false sense of security.

Convincing h.e.l.l there would be no attack.

Of course, there was always the possibility that h.e.l.l was right and, when faced with their imminent death, the two girls had decided to get in one last. . .

No.

At the very least, they were creating a distraction. She'd have never gotten this close unchallenged had the darkside been paying attention.

Time to return the favor.

The cayenne pepper in one hand, a marble in the other, Claire sprinted for the edge of the pit. She made it about two thirds of the way.

One of the wand's points had snagged on the inside of Diana's black stretch pants and wriggling didn't seem to be freeing it.

"Harder!" she growled, her mouth against Kris' ear.