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“So this where all Hell breaks loose?”

Someone had to say it, Diana reminded herself. It wasn’t exactly a Rule. Some things didn’t have to be. “Not yet.”

With any luck, not ever.

Leaning out around the quartet of meat-minds left to guard them, she watched as the Shadowlord came into the cavern—not walking,striding, and being pretty da…darned obvious about it, too. Over the whole black-on-black wardrobe, he was wearing greaves, vambraces, and a polished breastplate. Also in black. He pulled his sword—not black, Diana was happy to note, although it wasn’t like he hadn’t already beat the theme to death—and knelt by the edge of the pit.

“Is it time?”

IT IS. ARE YOU READY?

“I am.”

“Who writes their dialogue,” Kris muttered as the Shadowlord stood, his blade lifted in salute.

Diana had a witty comeback ready, but it slipped off her tongue. The Shadowlord’s hair, definitely blond on all other occasions, was looking more than just a little red. It might have been reflected light from the pit, but she had a horrible feeling he was about to earn a name.

Given who he’ll be fighting, three guesses as to whatname and the first two don’t count.

*

Sam trotted along at Arthur’s heels, vaguely aware that this wasn’t the first time he’d gone to war—Angels being soldiers of the Lord and all that. He just wished he could remember more of his life before he became a cat. Well, he remembered the few days he’d been essentially a human teenage male, but since that had mostly involved being confused, hungry, and obsessed with genitalia, it wasn’t a lot of help.

He would rather have been with Claire, rescuing Diana. He would rather have beenwith Diana right from the start, but no one ever listened to him.

This made his ability to stop Arthur from doing a little one-on-one whacking with the Big Bad just a little suspect. The access to higher knowledge he retained in this form was no help at all.

So.

What would Austin do?

“The trick in getting them to listen is making sure you’ve got their attention before you start.”

“But how?”

Austin stretched out a front leg and flexed the paw. His claws sank a quarter inch into the sofa cushion.“Use your imagination, kid. That’s what it’s there for.”

Well, if a cat could look at a king, he supposed it was only a small step from there to leaving scars. Feeling more confident, he began memorizing the places Arthur’s padding didn’t quite cover. Just in case things got unpleasant.

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“Did you have a pleasant time at the shopping mall, Dean?” Meryat’s voice was low and musical, her movements graceful, even considering she was still more than half corpse.

Dr. Rebik stared at her in open-mouthed fascination.

Dean stared in horror.

Austin seemed to have disappeared.

“You seem to have done some shopping,” she continued, her eyes following the movements of the hockey bag. “Is it another kitty?” Her arm whipped forward with snakelike speed and one finger poked the canvas. The answering squawk was more indignant than pained. “No, not a kitty. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’d bought yourself a chicken.”

Dean really didn’t like the way she’d emphasizedIf I didn’t know better…His grip tightened around the straps of the bag, the wrapped canvas growing damp under his fingers.

“Why don’t you show me?”

Okay. He thrust the bag toward her. Austin’s plan had involved getting Dr. Rebik out of their room, leaving the bag outside the door for her to find, assuming she’d go after the life force of whatever was in it. She’d drag it inside, and open it, never suspecting a Bystander capable of delivering a mythological creature capable of turning her to stone. The threat of life sucking would be over and the basilisk would be safely contained until Claire came home.

Still, as long as he closed his eyes and got Dr. Rebik to close his eyesand assumed that Austin was somewhere safe, this should do as plan B. Given that the basilisk had been hiding out in a shopping mall with minimal statuary happening, it clearly preferred hiding over stoning. Stoneage. Turning people to stone.

Meryat pushed the bag back toward him.“You open it.”

That would make things a little trickier.

Meryat was a foot shorter than he was, slim, and not entirely alive. If he shoved her out of his way, could she stop him? If he shoved her into the wall, was she still brittle enough to break?

“You can’t, you know.”

Dean swallowed and found his voice.“I can’t what, then?”

“Just charge past me.” His eyes widened and she smiled. “No, I’m not reading your mind; I’m reading your face. Everything you’re thinking, everything you’re feeling is right out there.”

“You don’t ever hit someone smaller than you.”

“What about Brad Mackenzie? He’s smaller than me, but he’s plays for St. Pat’s, and if I don’t hit him, we’ll…”

His grandfather sighed.“All right, fine. You don’t ever hit someone smaller than you unless they’re wearing hockey skates.”

From the way Meryat was smiling, that had shown on his face, too. He was some screwed because he’d never get her into hockey skates.