“What about Colin and the other kid?”
“Colin took a tote bag to the forehead while he was dragging Alanyse to safety and Stewart got pounded against a wall.” Claire walked around to the end of the next bed and lightly laid a hand on the blanket covering Colin’s foot. “They’ll both be okay, though.”
“How do you figure?” Diana demanded, emerging from the
T-shirt with teeth clenched. Dragging the reinforced neck over her head had done nothing to help the brick-grinding-brain problem.
“Arthur’s convinced them that they can’t die. As long as they believe that, everything heals.”
“Nice if he could have convinced them they couldn’t get hurt.” A quick, careful search found her sandals under the edge of the bed.
“I think that’s beyond even his powers of persuasion. These kids came off the street and before that from places even less pleasant. They know they can get hurt.”
“Good point. Hey, where’s Sam?”
“Sam’s fine. He’s out by the fire.”
That pulled Diana’s attention off her fight with a buckle. “Fire?”
“They have one every night. Here, let me get that before you vomit again.” Claire hiked up her skirt and knelt by Diana’s feet. “I don’t know how it started, but it’s become symbolic, so now it’s self sustaining.”
“Like the one at the Girl Guide camp?”
The older Keeper shuddered. “Different archetype, so let’s hope not.”
“I’m starving.”
“Hardly surprising, we missed lunch and it’s past time for supper. Come on, our packs are by the fire.”
“My pouch? The wand?”
“I put them away. You won’t be using the wand again, of course, but I thought it was safer in your pack than out where one of the kids might get to it.”
Diana didn’t see why if it would have little effect on a Bystander, but since her pack was still the best place for it, she didn’t argue. Nor did she argue about that of course. It was an older sister thing and could safely be ignored. As things stood right now, she had no intention of using the wand again but, as her grade twelve sociology teacher used to say, change is the only constant. And the road to Hell was paved with good intentions. Dean had probably given them a polish on his way by.
The fire burned in a circular pit in the open area just inside the doors. There’d been no pit or even a sign of one earlier, but consistency frequently took a beating on the Otherside. They appeared to be burning charcoal briquettes, fake fireplace logs, and remaindered novelizations of Everybody Loves Raymond. Apparently, everybody didn’t.
The party clothes Claire had mentioned seemed heavy on the high-heeled boots, leather, and lingerie. Had she ever thought about it, Diana would have said that a run of the mill, middle-class shopping mall wasn’t likely to carry PVC corsets—and she’d have been wrong. Gilded by the light from the leaping flames, it looked like the elves were about to break into a coed version of “Lady Marmalade.”
Arthur sat on the only chair in the circle of cushions. Although missing legs put it low enough to the ground that he had to cross his own legs in front of him, it still put him head and shoulders above everyone else. The fire reflected off his silver circlet and off the hilt of the sword thrusting up over his shoulder. He was gnawing on a drumstick and looking suitably barbaric until Diana noticed the red-and-white-striped bucket at his feet. The elves had apparently dared the food court.
A quick search spotted Sam perched on the lap of the tall, slender girl that Kris had signaled during their original walk down the concourse.
“He’s telling Kith everything that’s happened on Buffy since she crossed over,” Kris said suddenly by Diana’s shoulder. Diana tried not to shiver at the warm breath laving her neck. “Your cat watches too much TV.”
“Tell me about it. He hogs the remote, too.”
Sam’s ears flicked back at the sound of her voice, and an orange blur launched itself into the air. The background noise grew richer with the sound of Kith swearing in at least two languages as Diana’s arms filled with cat.
“You made me worry!” Amber eyes glared accusations at her.
“Sorry.”
“Don’t do it again!”
“Okay.”
“Now put me down!”
“Sure.” She kissed him behind one ear and stroked two fingers back over his head as she set him on the floor. Spinning around, he gave the side of her palm a couple of quick licks and then bit down—not quite drawing blood.
The moment his mouth was empty, he glared up at her. “I meant it when I said don’t do it again.”
“I know.”
He butted against her leg, hard enough to leave the imprint of his head as a purple-and-green bruise. Tail straight up in the air, a fuzzy orange exclamation mark, he stalked back around the fire.
“He’s gonna have to make with the apologizing. Kith loves her leather pants.”
“Cats don’t apologize,” Claire said, from Diana’s other side, her voice the voice of experience. “He’ll convince her the whole thing was her fault.”
“Yeah, but he…”
Diana cut the protest short. “It doesn’t matter.”
“If you say so.” Kris’ fingers were warm in the crook of her elbow. “Come on, himself wants to thank you.”
“What for?”
“Duh. Saving his ass and nearly killing yourself doing it.” Her grip tightened. “I’m with the cat on that bit. Don’t do it again!”
“Look, if another situation comes up…” The dark glare from the guard captain was very nearly more heated than Sam’s. Ohmygod, she cares! Nearly breathless, Diana maintained just enough self-control to shove her free hand into her pocket and cross her fingers. “Okay. Not doing it again.”
“Good. Because I’ll kick your ass if you do.”
Arthur tossed a bone onto the fire as they approached and rose fluidly up onto his feet, wiping greasy fingers on his jeans.
Immortal King. Teenage boy. Mixed messages, Diana sighed silently, that’s what’s wrong with the world. And while they weren’t strictly in the world, it
