The Second Summoning Read online

  “You’ve got lots of time.”

  “But we don’t know how long this will take.”

  “Girl, you worry too much.” Nalo’s pat was almost a push.

  Claire took the hint and dropped down onto the greasy ties. As she turned toward the job, heavy footfalls heralded the approach of Transit Security. They seemed perfectly willing to believe that both Keepers were maintenance workers and that Austin’s carrier was a toolbox, making only a cursory check and leaving quickly. Claire suspected that the collection of filthy shopping bags discouraged suspicion. And conversation. And breathing.

  Her suspicions were confirmed when one of the guards promised to tell the cleaning crew about the mess. “They can get them ready for the garbage train.”

  “Garbage train?” Claire asked when they were gone. “Is that the maintenance train you mentioned?”

  “One of them,” Nalo allowed, pulling a piece of chalk from her tool belt and squatting by the upper edge of the hole.

  “One of them? How many of them are there?”

  “Depends.”

  “On what?”

  “On how many of them there are.”

  “Wonderful.”

  The cleaning crew arrived before they finished mapping. None of them spoke English, two of the three couldn’t speak to each other. They all made their feelings quite clear about the bags.

  “I don’t know about you,” Austin muttered when they left, “but I’ve just learned a few new words.” He wandered over to the edge of the platform and peered down at Claire. “How’s it going?”

  “Fine.” The hole came over the edge of the platform, wrapped around the lip, and extended two feet down a blackened concrete block wall. It took a liberal application of nail polish remover to get even small sections of the concrete blocks clean enough to take a definition. And her fingers were getting cold.

  “Dean could get that clean in no time.”

  “And if Dean were here, that would be relevant.”

  “Hey, I didn’t chase him away.”

  “Shut up.”

  “Almost done?”

  “Almost.”

  “Good.”

  She glanced up at his tone. “Why good?”

  “Well, I don’t want to rush you, but there’s something going on just down the line.”

  “Going on?”

  He cocked his head, ears pointing south. “Sounds like a train.”

  “Great.”

  “But it’s stopped now.”

  “Fine. Let us know when it starts moving. Nalo?”

  “I’m ready. If you’re not sure you can finish before the train gets here, hop out and we’ll redo after.”

  Claire glanced down the tunnel. She couldn’t see a light, she couldn’t feel the wind of an approaching train, and she just wanted this whole thing to be over. “There’s one last definition; I can finish.” The concrete wasn’t exactly clean, but it would have to do. A little extra pressure on the chalk got the symbol more-or-less inscribed. “That’s it.” A movement in the air lifted her hair off the back of her neck as she straightened. “Let’s go.”

  Because of the bend in the site, it was impossible for a single Keeper to see the entire perimeter. While Nalo pushed her edge in, Claire reached into the possibilities and lifted.

  The movement in the air became wind.

  Claire could feel the vibrations of the approaching train in the soles of her feet.

  The hole fought to stay open.

  As the bottom edge reached the tricky turn at the lip, she could see a small light growing rapidly larger in the corner of her eye.

  Rapidly larger.

  It became a train.

  I might just as well throw myself under it. I can’t believe I screwed things up so badly with Dean. How can I miss him so much and keep on living? What’s the point of a life without someone to share it wi…

  A sudden multiple puncture through the skin of her hand jerked her back to herself. Grabbing possibilities, she tightened her grip on the definitions, flung herself up onto the platform, and slammed the hole shut just as a three-car train roared through the station, lights blazing and Christmas music blaring.

  Lying flat on her back, she lifted her injured hand up into her field of vision. “I’m bleeding.”

  “You’re lucky that’s all you’re doing; that cat just saved your life. What happened?”

  “I was…”

  “Thinking about Dean.”

  She turned her head until she could see Austin, opened her mouth to deny it, and sighed.

  “Were you thinking about this boy?”

  Another turn of her head and she could see Nalo frowning down at her, hands on hips. “It was more like a bad soap opera than actual thought,” she admitted reluctantly.

  “Get up,” the older Keeper instructed. “We need to talk.”

  Her tone left no room for argument. It barely left room for vowels.

  As Nalo made sure the hole was truly sealed, Claire got slowly to her feet then bent down and picked up the cat. “Thank you.”

  He rubbed the top of his head against her chin. “Same old, same old.”

  “…and being without him is affecting the way you’re doing your job. Not to mention putting your life in danger. And what do you think would have happened if that train had killed a Keeper while you were under the influence of darker possibilities? I’ll tell you what, we’d have had a repeat of that whole Euro Disney thing!”

  Claire shuddered.

  “The powers that be clearly want the two of you together, or you wouldn’t be in such lousy shape without him.” Nalo handed her a glass of eggnog and set a saucer of it on the coffee table for Austin. “Drink this. You’ll feel better.”

  “There’s rum in it.”

  Austin lifted his head, a fleck of foam on his muzzle. “There’s no rum in mine.”

  Both Keepers ignored him.

  “Do you love the boy?”

  A mouthful of eggnog came back out Claire’s nose. “He’s not a boy!”

  “Pardon me, Miss Defensive, and use the napkin, not your sleeve. Do you love the man, then?”

  “I just want what’s best for him.”

  “How about you let him decide what’s best for him and you answer my question.” Nalo settled into a wing-back recliner and stared at Claire over the edge of her glass. “Do you love him?”

  “Love.” She tried for nonchalance and failed dismally. “What is love anyway?”

  “Claire…”

  There was power in a name. In this particular instance, there was also a warning.

  The depths of the eggnog held no answers although the rum made a couple of suggestions Claire ignored. Sighing, she set the empty glass down on the coffee table next to a crocheted Christmas tree. “Since he left, I’ve felt like there’s a part of me missing.”

  “Close but not good enough. Do you love him?”

  “I…”

  “Yes or no.”

  Yes or no? There had to be other options. When none presented themselves, she sighed. “Yes.”

  “Yes, what?”

  “Yes, I love him.” The world stopped for a moment, and when it started up again, Claire felt a little light-headed. “Shouldn’t there be music or something?”

  “The world stopped. That wasn’t enough? You want a sound track, too?”

  “I guess not.”

  “Good. Does he love you?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Austin looked up from the bottom of his saucer. “He does.”

  “How do you know?” Claire demanded, leaning forward to stare into his face.

  “He told me.”

  “No, he didn’t.”

  “Are you calling me a liar?”

  “I’m calling you a cat.”

  Austin thought about that for a moment. “Fair enough,” he conceded.

  “It’s obvious you and Dean should be together,” Nalo declared, drawing the attention of both Claire and the cat. “So what
are you going to do about it?”

  Claire shook her head. “Keepers don’t…”

  “Don’t tell me what Keepers don’t; I’ve been one a lot longer than you have. Keepers don’t deny the truth when it jumps up and bites them on the ass, that’s what Keepers don’t. If it helps, think of the space between you as an accident site you have to close.”

  “But the danger.”

  “Girl, don’t you think for a moment that Keepers have the only power. If you love him, you find that boy then you trust in the power of love to keep him safe. And if that cat doesn’t quit making gagging noises,” she added with a dark look at Austin, “I’m going to use him to line a pair of slippers.”

  “She didn’t tell you anything you didn’t already know.”

  “I know.” Bedded down on Nalo’s couch for the night, Claire stared out the window, past the lights of the city at points farther east. Dean was out there, somewhere, and as much as it was going to cost her, she could think of only one way to find him.

  Austin kneaded her hip, his claws not quite going all the way through the duvet. “So what are you going to do about it?”

  “Go home for Christmas.”

  “Diana?”

  “Diana.”

  “And if you’re Summoned somewhere else?”

  “Then I’ll know that Dean and I aren’t supposed to be together and I’ll be miserable and unhappy for the rest of my life.”

  “That’s your entire plan?”

  Claire sighed and stroked her fingers along his spine. “That’s it.”

  “You know, you guys really need a union.”

  The Christmas dance was Diana’s first. She hadn’t planned on attending but when her parents had discovered what she’d done too late to have her undo it, they’d insisted she be there just in case. They’d said rather a great deal more as well, but she’d stopped listening to the lecture early on.

  Standing against the wall of the gym, arms crossed, a cardboard cup of punch in one hand, she watched twinkling bits of light falling gently through the central hole in the crepe-paper pattern. It was working exactly as designed; the weave captured good feelings rising up from the crowd, filtered and purified them, then sprinkled them back down like metaphysical snowflakes through the center hole. And in spite of minor panic from the ’rents about the dangers inherent in too much of a good thing, the inevitable counterbalance of teenage angst insured that the system didn’t spiral up and out of control.

  It was probably going to be the first high school dance in history where everyone had a good time and no one had too good a time.

  As ordered, the pattern even looked like a snowflake from below.

  She was remarkably pleased with herself.

  Draining the cup, she set it down and walked across to where the senior basketball team were standing morosely by the wall. They were now zero and nineteen. The chess club was more popular.

  “Joe, dance with me!”

  He looked startled but took her hand and allowed her to lead him out onto the floor.

  As the music started to slow, Diana reached into the possibilities and changed the CD before he could pull her close.

  Everyone was going to have a good time, but there were limits to even the most selfless charity work and Joe had missed his last five free throws.

  Just after one a.m., Diana slipped off boots and coat and padded upstairs in her socks, reaching just far enough into the possibilities to muffle the sound of her arrival. She didn’t actually have a curfew—there was a certain inane sound to you can only save the world until ten on a school night—but she liked to keep the parental units guessing. Fully aware of this, they set certain metaphysical traps, which she easily deflected, and all parties remained secure in the knowledge that they were holding up their respective ends of the teenager/parent relationship, Keeper/Cousin variety.

  Diana suspected her parents didn’t think of it that way, but as long as they were happy, she didn’t really mind.

  She waited until she had her bedroom door closed behind her before she turned on the light.

  “I need a favor.”

  The possibilities muffled her startled shriek and Claire easily fielded the candle she threw. “Don’t you have somewhere to be Summoned to!”

  “No.” Claire set the candle on the stack of paperbacks piled by the bed.

  “No?”

  “How loud was the music at that dance? No. I am, at the current time, not being Summoned anywhere.”

  Her heartbeat beginning to return to a more normal rhythm, Diana crossed over to the beanbag chair, scooped Austin up into her arms, and settled them both, the cat on her lap. “Whoa. You do know what that means?”

  “How many more years have I been doing this?” Arms crossed, Claire paced the eight steps to the wall and back. “It means I’m supposed to be here. I’m supposed to do what I’m doing.”

  “You don’t look very happy about it. What are you supposed to be doing that’s got you so nervous?”

  Dropping onto the end of the bed, Claire picked a tuft of fuzz off the folded Navaho blanket. “Like I said, I need a favor.”

  “You’re supposed to ask me for a favor?”

  “No. I need to ask you for a favor.”

  “Me?”

  “Do you see anyone else in here?” Claire demanded, nostrils pinched. “If I could do this any other way, I would, but I need a favor only you, my only sister, can provide.”

  “Only me?” The grin became a smirk as she stroked a thoughtful hand down Austin’s back. “In all my life you have never come to me for counsel or help. You have never invited me to be a part of what you do. Now you come to me and say you need a favor.” She stroked the cat again. “Now you call me sister.”

  Austin stretched out a paw, and pushed against her lap. “Hey, Godfather, behind the ears.”

  “You’re sure you know the number?”

  “Always.” Diana poked at the phone.

  “That’s too many numbers!”

  “Relax and tell me again how I was right and you were wrong.”

  “Just dial.”

  “I’ve dialed; it’s ringing.” The look on Claire’s face evoked an involuntary smile—which slipped as Claire stood motionless and stared at the receiver. “Hey? Are you going to take this thing from me or…too late. Hi, Dean.”

  Dean pushed himself into a sitting position on his cousin’s sofa bed. “Diana?” He slid on his glasses and glanced over at the VCR for the time. The piece of black electrical tape was no help at all. “How did you get this number?”

  “If I told you that, I’d have to kill you. There’s someone here who wants to talk to you. Someone who’s very, very sorry she sent you away and…ow! What’s your damage? It sure seemed like you didn’t want to…okay, okay, stop pinching!”

  During the pause that followed, he dug for his watch. Two forty-one. a.m.

  “Dean?”

  Remember to breathe, he told himself as the room started to spin. “Claire?”

  Fingers gripping the plastic so tightly it creaked, Claire had a sudden flashback to the hotel room in Rochester.

  “Howard?”

  “Cheryl?”

  And we all know how well that turned out. She swallowed, unable to actually say the words. If Dean had said something, anything, but he didn’t—although she could feel him waiting.

  Diana rolled her eyes. Leaning forward, she caught her sister’s gaze and held it. “Tell him, Claire.” The she reached into the possibilities and added the magic word. “Please.”

  Resistance was futile. The words spilled out before Claire could stop them. “Dean, I’m sorry. I was wrong to just arbitrarily decide we shouldn’t be together anymore. I should have told you about the danger and let you…” When Diana scowled, she wet her lips and made a quick correction. “…trusted you to make your own decisions. I want us to be together.”

  “Why?”

  “Why? I…um…Diana, if you please me again, I’m going to smack yo
u!” Having glared down her sister, she took a deep breath.

  “If it helps, think of the space between you as an accident site you have to close.”

  Moving the phone away from her mouth, she growled, “Would a little privacy be asking too much?”

  Diana, secure in the certain knowledge that Claire owed her big time, snorted. “Well, duh.”

  Austin ignored the question as it clearly did not apply to cats.

  Neither response surprised her. She tucked the phone back up to her mouth and lowered her voice. “Dean, since you left, I’ve felt like there’s a part of me missing.”

  She could still feel him waiting.

  “Close but not good enough.”

  “Look, I love you. Okay?”

  She loved him. Over the thundering of his heart, Dean could hear music. It filled the apartment, thrummed in his blood, and just about made his ears bleed.

  In the next room, his cousin banged on the ceiling. “It’s almost three o’clock in the freaking morning, butthead!”

  “Dean?” Claire frowned at the phone.

  “What’s happening?” Diana demanded, reaching for the receiver.

  Claire smacked her hand away. “I don’t know. It sounds like Bon Jovi.”

  The music stopped.

  “Dean?”

  She loved him. The words echoed in the sudden silence.

  She loved him.

  Now what? Was he supposed to say he loved her, too, or would she think he was just saying it because she’d said it even though he did, and had known it since he drove away and left her standing all alone in that parking lot even though he hadn’t realized he’d known it until this very moment?

  And then what?

  “Dean?”

  “What’s the matter?” Diana made another unsuccessful grab for the receiver.

  “He’s not saying anything.”

  “Give me the phone.”

  Claire stared down at the cat. “What?”

  “The phone, give it to me.” When she hesitated, he sighed. “Trust me, it’s a guy thing. You need to break this up into bite-sized pieces.”