“What happened to your leg?”
“Austin.”
“Hey, I had to get his attention, didn’t I?” Austin demanded as Claire turned a raised eyebrow in his direction.
“By attempting an amputation?”
Industriously washing a front paw, he ignored her.
“I know a man who die from a cat scratch,” Jacques announced rematerializing halfway up the stairs. “The scratch, it went…How do you say, septique?”
“Septic.”
“Oui. Had to cut it off and he dies.”
“Died.”
“Oui.” He smiled at Dean. “Should we cut off your leg now or later?”
“I’m fine.”
“I’m insulted,” Austin snorted. “My claws are clean.”
“Maybe you’d better go wash your leg,” Claire suggested, nodding toward her suite. “Use my bathroom. There’s some antibiotic cream in the medicine chest.”
At the sight of the roughly circular stain, Dean sucked in air through his teeth. About three inches in diameter, it was an ugly red-brown, darker in the center of the top curve. “Oh, man. I’ll be right back.”
“Where are you going?”
“To change. I don’t get these jeans into cold water soon, I’ll never get the blood out.”
“Don’t look out any windows!” Claire yelled as he ran for the basement “I don’t believe him,” she muttered over the sound of his work boots clumping down the stairs. “One minute he’s terrified, the next, a laundry problem drives the whole experience from his mind.”
“He is right about the bloodstain and cold water,” Jacques pointed out. “You see these?” He slapped his thighs. “Cover with blood when I fall in the lake and now, for eternity, clean.”
Claire helped herself to a chocolate bar. “Don’t you start.”
A few moments later. Dean reentered the lobby in jeans so clean the creases were a lighter shade of blue.
“Well?”
He smiled. “I’ve been hurt worse while still on the bench.”
“Next time I’ll dig a little deeper,” Austin muttered as another group of kids arrived.
For about half an hour, a steady procession of the neighborhood children climbed up the steps to claim their loot. Claire kept a wary eye on the wards while Dean stood in the open doorway, happily handing out the candy. By the time the crowd thinned and the stairs emptied, it was full dark.
“Uh, Boss? There’s a real evil-looking cow down on the street.”
“A cow?”
“Yeah. It’s got barbed horns and glowing red eyes.”
“Considering how the rest of the stuffs been manifesting, it’s probably a Guytrash.”
“What should I do?”
“Shut the door; it’ll go away.”
Brow creased, he did as he was told. “These things can’t hurt the kids, can they?”
“Have you ever heard of a kid being hurt by a cow on Halloween?”
“Well, no, but…”
“This kind of manifestation can’t hurt you if you don’t believe it can hurt you, and frankly, not many people believe in the traditional ghoulies anymore.” The wards blazed red and Claire reached for the door. “There’s probably enough race memory left to give them a bit of a scare, but isn’t that what tonight’s abo…oh, my.” She stared up at the very large man wearing what looked to be black plastic armor and shivered a little at the menace in the black plastic eyes.
“Truth or dare?” His voice was darker; deeper even, if that was possible.
It was essentially the same question. The trick was, never for an instant to show uncertainty. “Truth.”
“You think you can do it alone, but you can’t.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You’ve had your truth.” She could hear amusement in the dark tone. “Now, it’s my turn.”
“Hey, Nicho! Look who it is!”
A pair of six- or seven-year-olds charged up the stairs and grabbed onto the trailing black cloak.
“You are so cool, man.”
“You’re our favorite.”
“It’s really you, isn’t it?”
He turned enough to look ominously down at them. “Yes. Really.”
“Cool.”
“Way cool.”
“Can we have your autograph?”
“Will you come home with me and meet our mom?”
“No, no! Better! Come to school with us tomorrow.”
“Yeah, you could slice and dice those guys who won’t let us on the swings.”
“Slice and dice!”
The features of the mask were, of course, immobile, but Claire thought she could detect a faint hint of building panic as the question and comments continued at machine-gun speed.
“You looked a lot taller in the movie.”
“Where’d you get those cool boots?”
“We loved the way you iced that guy without even touching him.”
“You gonna be in the prequel?”
“I got the micro machine play set that looks just like you.”
“I drew a picture of you on the inside cover of my reader. It was pretty good, but I got in trouble.”
“Can I hold your light sa…”
“No.” He yanked his cape from their hands.
“Oh, come on, just once.”
“Me, too.”
“I said, no.”
“We wouldn’t break it”
“Yeah, don’t be such a jerk.”
Breathing labored, he rushed down the steps, strode out onto the sidewalk, and disappeared.
“Cool.”
“Yeah. Way cool.”
The taller of the two looked speculatively up at Claire. “You got any gummy bears?”
“I’m melting, I’m melting…”
Swinging the empty bucket, Claire closed the door on the dissolving manifestation. “At least she stuck to the script.”
“I always thought the CBC was overreacting about the effects of the American media,” Dean said thoughtfully, “but now I’m not so sure.”
“Aren’t you a little young to be out so late.”
The tiny girl watched the candy drop safely into her bag before answering. “My daddy just got home.”
The shadowy figure at the bottom of the stairs raised an arm in a sheepish wave.
“I see. Well, what are you supposed to be?”
She tossed her head, setting a pair of realistic looking paper horse ears waggling, and spun around so Claire could see the tail pinned to the back of her jacket. “I’m a pony.”
“Oh. Sorry.”
“You’ve got a cat in the window,” she continued. “I want a cat, but my stepmom’s allergic. Can I come in and pet your cat? Just for a minute.” Head to one side, she smiled engagingly. “Please.”
“What about your father?”
She spun around again. “Daddy! Can I go pet the cat?”
The arm lifted in what could have been a wave of assent.
Like most cats, Austin was not fond of small children. Claire grinned and was about to step out of the way when she noticed the
