She’d been lucky. With both her conscious and subconscious preoccupied in sending the shadow assassin to a place where it would be no threat, she could have ended up anywhere. Stepping through a door on the Otherside with no clear idea of a destination could have resulted in a visit to any number of unpleasant places, not only on the Otherside but in the real world as well.
She could have ended up on the south side of Chicago.
Vancouver’s Downtown Eastside.
The West Bank.
The north of Afghanistan.
At a second-run theater screening of Attack of the Clones.
Claire shuddered.
A little water was a small price to pay.
She was wet and her batik silk skirt might never recover but she was safe. Arthur was safe. She had defeated the shadow. All that remained was to find her way back to the mall, which shouldn’t— wouldn’t—be a problem for a Keeper of her abilities.
The Otherside was no place for false modesty.
Or actual modesty.
Kicking harder lifted her head above the swells. Unfortunately, it didn’t change what she could see—water and sunlight. She turned slowly. Water and sunlight. Water and sunlight. Water and sunlight and…something. It might have been fog. It might have been land, lying low along the horizon. She sank down until her chin settled just under the water, rested for a moment, then took another look.
Something.
Exactly what I need, she amended silently and started to swim, the water lapping at her in a vaguely lascivious way.
Years of practice kept her from thinking about all the many things that could go wrong before she made it back to the mall. Plenty of things were likely to go wrong without her help.
* * *
“No, you cannot go after Diana. I forbid it.”
“You forbid it?” Sam’s ears flattened as he glared up at Arthur. “News flash; you’re not the boss of me!” Tail lashing from side to side, he stalked toward the door.
Only to find himself lifted off the floor by strong hands tucked into his armpits.
Folding himself almost in half, he got a back paw between his fur and an unprotected palm, got a claw out, and raked it downward.
Anyone else would have hollered and dropped him. Screamed and thrown him aside. Cursed and pitched him. All possible reactions and all a variation on a theme resulting in his freedom. Arthur jerked a little at the sudden pain but held on, and Sam realized he’d continue to hold on even if his hands were ripped to bloody shreds. For a moment, he considered testing that conclusion, then the moment passed and he found himself dangling helplessly.
“I’ll put you down if you give me your word you’ll remain in the store.”
“And if I don’t,” Sam sneered.
“Then I’m afraid I’ll have to put you somewhere secure until you give me your word or until one of the Keepers returns. They both wished you to remain here and I will not risk their wrath.”
“And my wrath?” He had a feeling his look of disdain would have been more successful had Arthur not been holding him so he could see only the back of his head.
“Your wrath, I’m afraid, I will have to risk.”
He flexed his claws. “Big mistake, bub.”
“Do I have your word?”
“No.” He needed to be free. He couldn’t be bound to the store by his word when either Diana or Claire might need him. Austin would never allow himself to be held. Too late, he realized Austin would have lied—given his word, and then broken it with a perfectly clear conscience. He could almost hear the older cat’s voice as the door to the pet crate closed behind him.
“What part of ‘cats make their own rules’ did you not understand, kibble-for-brains?”
“I changed my mind. You want my word, you’ve got it!”
Arthur shook his head. “Too convenient a conversion, I fear, but we’ll speak again later.”
“I saved you from that shadow! You owe me.”
“I do.”
“And this is how you repay me?”
“The two are not connected.”
Sam watched the Immortal King head out of Pet Supplies and searched for a sufficiently scathing last word. Unfortunately, nothing came to him. One paw braced on a crossbar, he rose up on his hind legs and studied the latch. It could only be opened from the outside.
“Hey, little furry dude. What’re you in for?”
Sighing, he dropped back down to all fours and glanced mournfully up at Stewart. “I wouldn’t promise Arthur I’d stay in the store.”
“Oh, for crying out loud; what part of ‘lying’ did you not understand?”
Oops.
“Couldn’t lie to him, eh? Yeah, I know how it is. He’s the kind of guy you can’t lie to because this little voice in your head just kind of chimes in and says he deserves the truth.”
“The little voice in my head keeps calling me kibble-for-brains.”
“Harsh.”
“Yeah, but cats are supposed to be good at lying. And they’re supposed to only think of themselves, but I can’t stop worrying about Diana. And Claire. And you guys.”
“Us guys? Hey, we’re fine.”
Sam swept an amber gaze up one side of the mall elf and down the other, getting full mileage from the disdainful expression Arthur hadn’t seen. “No, you’re not. The only person I’m not worried about is Dean, and that’s because he’s got Austin with him and Austin knows what he’s doing. He can keep bad things from happening. I can’t.” The stripes on his forehead folded back into a worried frown. “I just haven’t been a cat long enough.”
“Yeah?” Stewart picked up a tiny purple mouse on a scarlet string, looked at it thoughtfully for a moment, then began attaching it to a braid. “What were you before you were a cat?”
“An angel.”
“An angel? A real angel? No shit?”
“Not until I got a body, then it came as a bit of a surprise.”
“Okay.” Reaching into a birdcage, the mall elf pulled out a tiny mirror. “Why do you suppose birds want to look at themselves?”
“I have no idea.”
“Are they just, like, really vain? Or do they think the mirror’s some kind of, I
