a8eb54fe2a7e7ca192cef2761fb9d6c0

“Probably nothing, but that’s not the point. The point is I have to go on. The anchor’s that way and unless we at least get a look at it, we don’t know any more than we did when we left.”

Kris shook her head.“We know there’s an old white guy in charge—big surprise—and he’s got bugs.”

“But that tells us nothing.”

“It tells me I should be hauling my ass—and yours—out of here.”

“No. You can haul your own—I can’t make you come with me—but I’m going farther in.” Diana pulled her arm free and half turned; enough to make her choice of direction obvious but not enough to turn her back on the other girl.

“It would help if I knew…” Kris drew her lower lip in between her teeth; the most vulnerable move Diana had seen her make. “It would help if I knew if he was still alive.”

“Look, whatever the processed cheese spread of evil out there is planning, it definitely hasn’t gone down because if Arthur was dead,things would be happening.”

“Things?”

“Things. Bad things.”

Kris’ gesture covered the alcove, the chains, and the general dungeonlike tone of the d?cor. “Worse than this?”

“Much. Season finale of Buffy kind of worse.”

“Which season?”

“Does it matter?”

“I guess not.”

Right or left, the passage looked identical; equally grim, equally foreboding.

“Look at the bright side,” Diana offered after a moment, “When they discover that we’ve escaped, they’ll never think of searching for us deeper in their territory. They’ll assume we headed out.”

“That’s because they’re not as stupid as they look and we are.” She drew in a deep breath, slowly releasing both it and Diana’s arm. “Fine. Let’s get going, then. Standing around ‘looking at the bright side…’”

She had the most sarcastic air quotes Diana had ever seen.

“…is exactly the sort of shit that calls wandering mons…Where are you going?”

“Farther in.”

“Fine.” A none too gentle shove pushed Diana up against the wall and out of the way. “I’m the one with the pointy ears. I’m out in front.”

“And that’s connected how?”

“Ears. Elf. Never get lost. Unless you don’twant to eventually find your way out?”

“We may have to go all the way in to get out.”

Kris shot her a look, equal parts irritation and exasperation, as she pushed by.“Man, I am so not envying your cat if this is the shit he has to put up with.”

*

Sam raced past and disappeared behind the winter coats as Claire slowed to avoid trampling the elf on guard at the entrance between the cosmetic counters. It seemed as though he might try to stop her but clearly thought better of it as he got a closer look at her face.

“Shit, Keeper…”

“Arthur!” She spat out the name. “Where is he?”

“Large Appliances.”

“And that’s where?”

“Straight to Children’s Shoes, hang a right, then a left at Women’s Accessories and straight to the back. You want I should sound the alarm?”

“No.” The alarm would only warn the assassin she was coming. Hopping on first one foot then the other, she slipped her sandals off—bare feet would make a lot less noise—then, hiking her skirt up above her knees, lengthened her stride.

Children’s Shoes, Women’s Accessories…The floor was cold, and the air smelled like overheated Teflon, like someone had left a nonstick frying pan on the stove and not realized the burner was still hot. As she ran, Claire hoped the smell was seeping through from the other mall. She didn’t like the implications if it wasn’t.

She could hear voices up ahead.

Arthur asked a question about fabric softener.

One of the elves snickered.

A cat screamed.

Sam.

Heart racing, she tried to remind herself that cats screamed as much for effect as affect and were as likely to scream in rage as in pain. It didn’t help. Death of the Immortal King, successful segue, end of the world aside, if Sam got hurt, Diana was going to kill her.

Large Appliances. Buy the washer; get one hundred dollars off the ticketed price of the dryer.

Sam crouched on top of a washing machine, tail lashing, fur straight up along his spine, ears clamped tight to his skull. He didn’t look injured. He didn’t sound injured. He sounded like a cross between a rabid raccoon and a civil defense siren.

Arthur had his sword out.

Facing them both was…at first Claire thought it was the shadow of the assassin, then it moved, an almost fluid flow from one shape to another, and she realized itwas shadow and itwas the assassin.

The shadow feinted right; Arthur moved with it, keeping his blade between them.

The shadow rose up ten, fifteen feet, stretched into a thin line, then whipped forward. Arthur dove out of the way, one hand reaching out to the mall elf beside him and dragging her behind a free-standing dishwasher.

Claire pulled a length of white thread from her belt pouch, tied two quick knots, and threw it into the darkness.

It froze, shivered once, shifted shape, and turned toward the Keeper, the thread anchoring it in place. Given the power pulling against it, the thread wouldn’t hold long.

Shrieking a challenge, Sam launched himself off the washing machine.

It arched just enough of itself out of the way.