“I don’t see why you bother with all that stuff.”
“This from the cat who spent half an hour washing his tail.” One eye closed, she leaned toward the mirror. Her reflection remained where it had been. “Oh, no.” Straightening, she put down the pencil and looked herself in the eyes—not at all surprised to notice that they were no longer dark brown but deep red. “Now what?”
A skull, recently disinterred, appeared in the reflection’s left hand. “Alas, poor Yorik. I knew him, Horatio, a fellow of infinite jest.”
“And oft times had you kissed those lips.” Claire folded her arms and frowned. “I’m familiar with the play. Get to the point.”
The reflection lifted the skull until it could gaze levelly into the eye sockets. “Now get you to my lady’s chamber, and tell her, let her paint her face an inch thick, to this favor she must come…” A fluid motion turned the skull so that it stared out from the mirror. “…make her laugh at that.”
“Not bad, but I imagine you have access to a number of actors. Your point?”
“Open the pentagram. Release us. And we shall see to it that you remain young and beautiful forever.”
“You’re kidding, right? You’re offering a Keeper eternal youth and beauty?”
The reflection looked a little sheepish. “It is considered a classic temptation. We thought it worth a try.”
“Oh, please.”
“That means no?”
Claire sighed and, both hands holding the edge of the sink, leaned forward. “Go to Hell,” she told it levelly. “Go directly to Hell, do not pass go, do not collect two hundred dollars.”
The skull vanished. Her reflection began answering to her movements again.
“Was that wise?” Austin asked from the doorway.
“What? Refusing to be tempted?”
“Making flippant comments.”
“It wasn’t a flippant comment.” She finished lining her right eye and began on her left. “It was a stage direction.”
“Hel-lo!”
“Mom?” In the kitchen, using a number of household products in ways they’d never been intended by the manufacturers—not even the advertising department which, as a rule, had more liberal views about those sorts of things—Claire was attempting to remove the ink from the latter third of the site journal. While not technically an impossible task, it did seem to be, as time went on, highly improbable. Laying aside the garlic press, she dried her hands on a borrowed apron—borrowing it hadn’t been her idea—called out that she’d be right there, and tripped over the cat.
By the time she reached the lobby, Austin was up on the counter, having his head scratched and looking as though he hadn’t been waiting as impatiently as anyone.
“You’re certainly right about those shields,” Martha Hansen said, as Claire came into the lobby. “I can’t feel a thing.”
Catching Austin’s eye, Claire mimed wiping her brow in relief. Austin looked superior; he’d had a bad feeling about it from the start. So there. “Thanks for coming, Mom.”
“Well, I could hardly refuse my daughter’s call for help, now could I? Besides, your sister’s in the workshop today and it’s your father’s turn to deal with the fire department.” The three of them winced in unison. “And it did seem a shame not to work in a quick visit with you so close. You’re looking well.” She wrapped Claire in a quick hug. “Maine must’ve agreed with you.”
“I was in and out too fast for it to disagree with me. Easiest site I ever sealed.”
“Good. At least you’re not facing this site exhausted and cranky.”
“Cranky?” Claire repeated, shooting a warning look at the cat. “Mom, I’m twenty-seven. I’m a little old for cranky.”
Her mother smiled. “I’m glad to hear that. How did you sleep last night?”
“Like a log. I expect it’s another effect of the dampening field.”
“I expect it is.” Unzipping her windbreaker, Martha turned back toward the counter. “What about you, Austin?”
“I slept like a cat.” One ear flicked back. “I always sleep like a cat.”
“That’s very reassuring. Any developments since you called, Claire?”
“Nothing much. We might have an imp infestation—I’m fairly certain it, or they, damped down my shoes the first night I was here.” She saw no point in mentioning the voice. Not only had it been a highly subjective experience, but she’d stopped telling her mother everything that went on in her head the day Colin Rorke had kissed her behind the football bleachers. “This morning, my reflection offered me eternal youth and beauty.”
Martha sighed as she shrugged out of her jacket. “I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, evil has no imagination. Probably why so much of it ends up in municipal politics. They’ll be back, you know, and the temptations will escalate as they come to know you better.”
“I expect I’ll seal the site before that becomes a problem.”
“But surely it’s already sealed.”
“No, Mom, I mean seal it closed.”
“Closed?”
“That must be why I’m here,” Claire asserted. “I couldn’t possibly have been summoned to an epistemological babysitting job as though I were too old to do anything but slap my power over a site and make sure nothing creeps out around the edges.”
“This hole…”
“Is huge, but it doesn’t change the job description.”
“And have you determined how you’re going to close the hole and simultaneously take care of…” She jerked her head toward the third floor.
“Not yet, but I’m working on it. I was hoping that you, with your greater experience and years of work in the field, could throw a little light on the problem.”
“Suck up,” Austin muttered.
Lips twitching, Martha bent and picked up her overnight case. “Let me drop this off in my room, and then I’ll go take a look at your problems. The sooner I see them, the sooner I can tell you what you need to hear.”
Claire grabbed the key to room two and hurried to catch up on the stairs, frowning as she got a good look at the feet she followed. “I wish you wouldn’t wear socks and sandals, Mom.”
“It’s the end of September, Claire, I
