by Tanya Huff
“Cherubs,” he muttered, trying to look as though he hadn’t been about to lift his tail.
Claire reached out and poked him lightly with her foot. “Come on. We’ll start at the back and work our way forward.”
When Diana turned to face the cash desk again, the heavily mascaraed teenager standing behind it was watching her in some confusion.
“Who was she talking to?” she asked, gesturing in the general direction Claire had taken. “If somebody sprays those angels they’re, like, going to have to pay for them, you know.”
Closing the distance between them, Diana smiled at her. “Please, don’t worry about it.”
“Okay.” She nodded slowly, looking slightly stoned and remarkably happy. Looking, as it happened, very much like she was never going to worry about anything ever again.
“Oops.” Apparently, her power problems hadn’t been solved by moving off reserve status. Reaching out carefully, Diana tweaked things, just a little, and was relieved to see a frown line reappear.
“If you’re looking for something, I can’t, like, leave the cash desk, so you’ll have to find it yourself.”
“Not a problem.” There were a dozen tubs, boxes, and spinners of impulse kitsch nearly covering the glass counter. If customers actually wanted to buy an item larger than a foot square, they were out of luck. Problem was, in a dozen containers of assorted bits and pieces, the thing she sensed could be…
In the tub of magic wands.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.”
The clerk blinked and focused. Lips almost as pale as the surrounding skin twitched. “Kids love these.”
“I’m sure.” Especially if they get one that actually works.
The wands were about eight inches long; a hollow tube of clear Lucite partially filled with a metallic or neon sparkling gel and topped with a plastic star the same color. The fourth one Diana pulled from the tub jerked in her hand, rearranging a display of ‘flower of the month’ tea cups into a significantly larger porcelain cherub. She was beginning to understand why Sam disliked the things. A quick flick of the wand changed it back.
“What was that?” the clerk demanded, whirling around toward the sound of metal ringing against china.
“Falling halo,” Diana told her, continuing to pull wands out of the tub.
“What?”
“Forget about it. Specifically, about it,” she added hurriedly, heading off inadvertent amnesia.
“Forget about what?”
Nothing like a cliché to measure effectiveness. “Exactly.”
The remainder of the wands were no more than they appeared.
“I’ll take this one.”
“Whatever. That’ll be twelve ninety-five. Plus tax.”
* * *
“Fourteen ninety-four,” Diana complained, showing Claire the wand. “For a piece of plastic crap.”
Claire stepped aside so that the neon pink star no longer pointed directly at her—she’d seen what had happened to the cups and had no wish to suddenly acquire a useless pair of wings and a winsomely blank expression. “Not a bad price for a working wand, though.”
“And the plastic crap was on sale for five dollars,” Sam added. “There was a whole box of it at the back of the store.”
“From the Otherside?”
“No, I think it was from a Rottweiler.”
Should have seen that coming. Reaching behind her, Diana slid the wand into a side pocket on her backpack. “Taking this across with us should neutralize it. You’re sure there was nothing else?”
“A few Chia Pets left over from Christmas—made on the Otherside, but I checked their bar codes and they were all legally imported.”
“Then our work here is done.” Diana nodded down the concourse toward the stairs. “Let’s go close this sucker down.”
“Chia Pets are imported from the Otherside?” Sam asked, as he and Austin fell into step between the Keepers.
“They were part of a whole Free Trade thing that fell apart over softwood lumber.”
“That doesn’t make any sense.”
“And that’s what I told them at the time.”
“That wasn’t what I…” A half glance over at the older cat and Sam realized that it didn’t really matter what he’d meant. “Okay. Never mind.”
There were more shoppers on the lower levels and a dozen senior citizens in the food court, having coffee and complaining about the way the younger generations were dressing.
“I’ve had it with my granddaughter,” one sighed loudly as the Keepers and cats passed her table. “She’s constantly borrowing my clothes.”
Her companion set down her blueberry bran muffin and smoothed her Canadian Girls Kick Ass T-shirt over artificially perky breasts. “I hear you, Elsie. I hear you.”
“That was disturbing,” Diana muttered as they headed down the last short hall toward the Emporium. “Didn’t you find that disturbing?”
Claire shrugged. “Not really, but then I’m not wearing the same shirt as a seventy-year-old.”
“Hey, hers was red on white, mine’s white on red. Not the same shirt!”
“Okay.”
Marvin Travel, The Tailor of Gloucester, The Erlking Emporium…
Trying to appear as though they were just resting, they sat down on the bench across from the Emporium and took turns glancing through the open door.
“Is that your troll?” Claire asked.
“Okay, first; not my troll. And second, why couldn’t he have a part-time teenager covering the weekend shifts like almost every other store in the mall?”
“That could be a part-time teenager.”
“Good point.”
Given the wide variations in human physiognomy, the troll could pass—provided no one looked too closely and were willing to ignore an unfortunate truth; most humans his color had been dead for a couple of days. A couple of hot days. His head was bald, his goatee had probably come off a real goat, his sunglasses appeared to be Ralph Lauren. He was just over six feet tall and only one short third of that was leg. Huge fists dangled even with his knees.
“At least he dresses well.”
“Yeah. Nice tie. I wonder what kind of leather it is.”
“Not what,” Austin said, jumping up onto the bench. “Who.”
“Eww.”
“His shoes seem to match.”
“Like I said, eww.”
“It’s your Summons,” Claire pointed out. “How do we get past him?”
“We’ve got someone on the inside, remember?” Diana stood, stretched, and started toward the window. Do-it-Yourself Voodoo Kits were forty percent off. Faking an interest in the display, she slid sideways until she could see herself reflected at the very outside edge of the mirror’s curve. Blue-on-blue eyes drifted up from the depths.
“Hey, Boss!”
The troll’s head jerked around, taking most of his upper body with it owing to a distinct lack of neck. “Are you insane? What if we’d had customers?”
“Then they’d probably be a little freaked by the way the rubber snakes are moving.”
“What, again? I knew I shouldn’t have trusted that warty little reject from Santa’s workshop.” Bitching about the way salesmen took advantage of honest retailers, he stomped out from behind the counter and across the store.
Diana, who’d returned to the bench, grabbed Claire’s arm. “Now.”
When they reached the store, she tugged her sister lower. “Duck!”
Claire almost pulled out of her grip. “Where?”
“Cute, but we did that one already. Just stay low.”
A rubbery squelch and a satisfied, “Let’s see how much moving you do with your tail stuffed down your throat,” propelled them all through the door to the supply room.
There was no immediate sound of pursuit.
And the one nice thing about trolls, Diana acknowledged, they don’t sneak worth a damn. “Do you think he saw us?”
“Let’s not risk it.” Cl
aire took three long strides across the storeroom to the steel door that led to the mall’s access corridors. She frowned at the hand-lettered “Staff Only” sign, then yanked the door open. “Come on. We’ve got to be out there to cross over anyway. This is the safest place to emerge into and in order to emerge, we have to exit.”
Diana nodded. “An obvious but valid point. Sam…” She slipped through after the cat.
Austin followed her.
Claire followed him, checked to make sure they could get the door open again, and carefully closed it.
They found themselves in a concrete corridor where grimy fluorescent bulbs shed just enough light to illuminate a recurring pattern of stains at the base of the walls. The air smelled of old urine and older French fry grease.
Pivoting to the right, Diana took a step toward the ninety-degree turn only a few meters away. “I’ve always wondered what it looked like back here.”
“Here specifically?” Austin snorted.
“No, you know, in back of the shopping parts of shopping malls.”
“You need to get out more.”
“And we need to get out of here,” Claire reminded them, her hand on the latch. “This is where the troll crosses over; there’s so much power residue on and around this door, we’ll be able to use it without even causing a blip on their radar.”
“Unless we send up a major ‘hey look at me’ flare because we’re going in the opposite direction.”
All eyes turned toward the younger cat.
“Sorry. Bit of leftover higher knowledge. It’s possible. But not very likely,” Sam added hurriedly as Austin advanced on him. “I mean, power residue’s power residue; right? And besides, what would I know.”
“Austin!”
Austin shot a “spoilsport” glare at Claire and suddenly became very interested in cleaning his shoulder, his claws almost totally retracted again.
“It’s my Summons.” Diana reached out for the latch. “The risk should be mine.”
Claire shook her head, blocking Diana’s hand. “If one of us is going to send up a flare, I’d rather they knew about me—leaving the more powerful Keeper in reserve.”
“That’s a good point, but here’s a better one. We don’t know what we’ll face on the other side of this door. I should cross first to make sure we’re not stopped before we get started.”
“Why don’t we cross together. They won’t get a good reading from either of us and we’ll be ready for whatever we have to face.”
“But I get to take it out.”
“Be my guest.”
On Diana’s nod, Claire threw open the door.
* * *
The storeroom on the Otherside looked almost exactly like the storeroom they’d left behind. The same metal utility shelves, the same jumble of empty boxes, the same overstock. The only real difference was the light—low, diffuse, and slightly green.
The two Keepers stood weighing the silence for danger.
“Hey.” Sam jumped up on a stack of old plastic milk crates. “Where’s Austin?”
THREE
ONE MINUTE, he had the tip of an orange tail in his face. The next, he felt the possibilities shift and he was walking alone into the storeroom they’d just left.
The door to the access corridor was closed.
The door to the store was closed.
Austin sat down, wrapped his tail around his front feet, and glared at nothing in particular. The urge to piss on something was intense. Like all cats, he knew when he was being told “No!”; he usually ignored it, but he knew.
He’d just been told in no uncertain terms.
The possibilities would not allow him to cross over.
When the door to the access corridor remained closed, his eye narrowed. Had she been able to, Claire would have returned immediately to find him. She hadn’t, so therefore she couldn’t. The question now became: why?
Fortunately, there was a way to find out.
Unfortunately, even up on his hind legs, he could just barely stretch to touch the bottom of the latch plate.
Okay, new plan.
Dropping to all fours, he stared at the closed door, a position proven to bring a talking monkey trotting to his assistance.
“Not a problem, ladies, I’ve got more T-shirt sizes in the back room.”
Or possibly a talking whatever the troll claimed as an evolutionary precedent.
As the door opened, Austin slid in behind a crate marked with both a biohazard and a live cargo symbol. Curious, he took a sniff at one of the air holes, but the crate was empty and had been for some time—probably a good thing although he could easily imagine scenarios where it wouldn’t be. With the troll’s full attention fixed on pulling an XXX large Astarte Fan Club out of a shipping carton of T-shirts, he slipped through the doorway and into the Emporium.
A fast right, a dive under a raised display case, a quick creep forward belly to the ground brought him behind a basket of small plastic jewelry boxes. Head cocked, he listened for the straining gears that would indicate someone with a desire to hear music played on pieces of bent tin had wound the key. When he finally found a silent box, he flipped it open. The miniature Republican in a frilly pink tutu remained motionless in front of the mirror.
Austin smacked the tiny politician out of his way and tipped the box back until its mirror reflected only the security mirror up by the ceiling.
Fortunately, cats were masters of refraction.
The direct approach would have taken him right into the troll’s line of sight now that the big guy was back at the counter explaining washing instructions to the T-shirt’s new owner—apparently, the bloodstains were not supposed to come out.
Blue-on-blue eyes drifted up from the depths of the jewelry box mirror.
“What are you doing here?” the mirror demanded, its usual booming tones more of a low tinkle.
Muzzle so close his breath fogged the glass. “The possibilities wouldn’t let me cross.”
“Age thing?”
Austin shrugged. “Maybe. Maybe the idiots in charge think two cats would give the good guys an unfair advantage; I don’t know. Can you get a message through to my people on the Otherside? I need to know that Claire’s all right; she needs to know that I’m safe.”
“I can do better than that. I should be able to patch you through, cat to cat. Video only, though, no audio. You want full bandwidth, you’ll need a crystal ball.”
“Video’s fine.” If Claire could see him, she’d know he was okay and could concentrate on doing her job. He scanned the store for something visual that would help get his message through and just when it seemed that nothing at all said “Dean,” he spotted the rack of ceramic nameplates.
The rules governing tacky gift store purchases clearly stated that no one was to ever find exactly the name they were looking for.
Cats made their own rules.
Utilizing the speed that could hook a fry from unsuspecting fingers during the instant it passed between plate and lips, Austin leaped into the air, got a paw under his objective, and was on the floor with it before the troll could look up from making change, the impact with the carpet barely audible over the muttered, “Five and six is thirteen plus eight is twenty.”
The name was right although the decoration of two obscenely cute mice eating a giant strawberry didn’t exactly say six foot two, obsessively tidy, Newfie hockey player. Oh, wait, not a giant strawberry—they just had most of the skin off.
Positioning himself by the mirror again, Austin leaned in until his whiskers touched the glass.
“Do it.”
* * *
“What do you mean, where’s Austin?”
Sam rolled his eyes. “I mean, he’s not here.”
Diana grabbed Claire’s wrist as she reached for the door. “Where are you going?”
“Back. He could be hurt.”
“He could be anywhere. Just because the possibilities didn’t bring him through here doesn’t mean they left him i
n the other mall.”
“There’s only one way to find out.”
“And if he isn’t there?”
Pulling free, Claire took a deep breath and looked her sister in the eye. “Then I’ll come right back.”
After a long moment, Diana nodded.
Claire closed her fingers around the latch, and froze.
Footsteps. Marching footsteps.
Distant, but coming closer.
Hard soles against concrete.
Hard something against concrete. Hooves, maybe? Impossible to tell.
The Keepers could feel the floor vibrate against their feet. Sam’s tail puffed out to four times its usual sleek diameter.
Diana wound her fingers through Claire’s pack straps and hauled her toward the other door. “We’ve got to get out of here!”
Closer.
A pair of snowflake paperweights vibrated so violently they shattered, spilling out miniature Grendels chewing on the bloody ends of Viking arms.
“We don’t know what’s out in the store,” Claire protested, as Diana yanked the door open.
“It’s got to be better than what’s out there!”
Sam leaped off the milk crates and raced between their legs.
“Sam thinks it’s safe! Move!”
They dove through the door after the cat. Diana slammed it behind them.
The sudden silence was almost overwhelming.
The hair lifting off his spine into an orange Mohawk, Sam moved out into the store. “It’s so thick, it’s like walking through pudding.”
“You should know,” Diana muttered, hands flat against the door, straining to hear if they’d been followed.
“That was an accident.”
“Maybe the first time. I can’t hear anything moving in the storeroom.” She turned to her sister. “You?”
“Nothing. Wait here. I’ll go back for Austin.”
“No need.”
“Sam!” Claire glared down at the younger cat…
…who ignored her, his head raised, his eyes locked on the back corner by the ceiling.
The mirror on the Otherside was a sheet of thick, silvered glass, about half a meter wide by a meter long, in an antique wooden frame. It was currently reflecting the store they’d just left. The troll flirted with the two teenage girls standing by the counter, a woman pushed a baby stroller out into the concourse, one of the rubber snakes disappeared under the pile of stuffed toys, and Austin stared down at them from beside a basket of tiny plastic music boxes.