Chronicles Of The Keeper - Summon The Keeper Part 18

"He's a kid. Minimal defenses. The knowledge could give h.e.l.l access to his mind."

"I think you're afraid he'll leave if you tell him," Austin said, rubbing against the edge of a low shelf. "And you don't want him to leave."

"Of course I don't want him to leave, he cooks, he cleans, I don't. But neither do I want him blundering into situations he has no hope of understanding." She turned to her mother. "He's already in deeper than any bystander I've ever been in contact with. Isn't that enough? How am I supposed to protect him?"

"If he's been here since last February, I'd say he has pretty powerful protections of his own," Martha said thoughtfully. "But you're the Keeper, it's your decision whether you tell him or not."

"Then why isn't this my decision?" Claire asked as her mother knocked at the bas.e.m.e.nt apartment. She didn't expect an answer, which was good, because she didn't get one.

Dean came to his door holding a mop.

"Merciful heavens." Unable to stop herself, Martha glanced down at his feet.

Claire hid a smile. It seemed clear that any member of the lineage meeting Dean for the first time couldn't help but check for tangible evidence of how very grounded he was.

Completely confused. Dean set the mop to one side, scrubbed his palm off on his jeans, and held out an apprehensive hand. "h.e.l.lo. You must be Claire's mother."

"That's right, I'm Martha Hansen." Recovering her aplomb, she took his offered hand in a firm grip. "Pleased to meet you, Dean. Claire's told me so little about you."

Half expecting a female version of Augustus Smythe, Dean was pleasantly surprised to find there were no similarities whatsoever. Mrs. Hansen looked remarkably like many of the artists who spent their summers in the outports. She wore her long, graying hair pulled loosely back off her face, no makeup, baggy pants, a homespun vest over a turtleneck and the ubiquitous sandals. Dean wasn't sure why sandals were considered artistic, but they certainly seemed to be. While a resemblance to the summer people wasn't entirely a recommendation, working for Mr. Smythe had taught him it could've been a lot worse. "You've been in the furnace room already, then?"

"We have. How could you tell?"

He felt his ears redden. "You're sweating. Mr. Smythe was always sweating when he came out of the furnace room."

Martha smiled and dabbed at her forehead with a tissue pulled from her vest pocket. "How observant of you. We have, indeed, been in the furnace room, but we're on our way up to room six now and we'd like you to come along."

He glanced over at Claire and noticed her slight hesitation before she nodded. "I don't want to be in the way."

"Nonsense. As Austin says, you're a part of this."

"Then just let me hang up my mop."

When he disappeared into his apartment, Martha turned toward her daughter. "He's a kid?"

"He's barely older than Diana."

"Sweetie, I hate to tell you this, but your sister isn't exactly a kid any more either." When Claire's brows drew in, she patted her on the arm. "Never mind. I don't think you'll have any problems with Dean. He's a remarkably stable young man, not to mention very easy on the eyes. I like him."

Forced to agree with the first two sentiments, Claire snorted. "You'd like an Orchi if it did housework."

"This is incredible." Remaining within the shielded area, attention locked on the sleeping Keeper, Martha moved around to the far side of the bed. "Just think of all the factors involved in achieving such an intricate balance of power."

"I am thinking about it, Mom. Or more specifically, I'm thinking about what'll happen if I unbalance it, ever so slightly."

"Don't."

Safely outside the shield, Claire sighed. Had she forgotten her mother was p.r.o.ne to those sorts of facetious comments? "I don't suppose you can see a way to break the loop without precipitating disaster?"

"No, I can't. I've never seen anything so perfectly in balance. I'm very impressed. Such a pity I'll never have a chance to tell the Keepers who designed it."

"Keepers."

"Oh, yes, this definitely took two people. You can see a double signature in the loop."

"Where?"

"Here. And here."

Claire pressed the back of her hand against her mouth. She shouldn't have missed the signs her mother had just pointed out. After all, she was a Keeper and her mother only a Cousin. "How can you stand to get so close to her?"

"I concentrate on the binding, not on her. Still..." Dusting off her hands, she stepped out through the shield. "... that was nasty."

Crouched in the doorway, rubbing Austin behind the ears to keep him distracted. Dean shook his head. They were like TV cops standing over a body matter-of-factly discussing multiple stab wounds. "You don't get disturbed about much, do you, Mrs. Hansen?"

Martha turned to face him. "Actually, I'm very disturbed."

"It doesn't show."

"After a few decades spent dealing with various sundry and a.s.sorted metaphysical accidents, I've gotten good at hiding my reactions. Also, the lineage is trained to remain calm about these sorts of things. It wouldn't do to have us yelling 'Fire!' in a crowded theater, now would it?"

Not entirely certain that he understood the a.n.a.logy, he let it go.

"Don't worry about it," Austin murmured. "Just try sharpening your claws on the sofa and you'll see how disturbed she gets."

Arms folded, Claire frowned down at the woman on the bed. In a strange way, h.e.l.l was the lesser of two evils. Unlike Aunt Sara, h.e.l.l had done nothing it wasn't supposed to do. "All right. Mom, you've seen the situation. Where should I begin?"

"I suggest we begin by leaving the room." Shooing Dean, Claire, and Austin out in front of her, she pulled the door closed then frowned at the splintered wood. "Then I suggest you get this fixed. Thank you, Dean." She stepped aside as he snapped the padlock back on. "Finally, I suggest you get used to the idea of being here a while."

"I never thought I'd work out how to close this down in a day or two. Mom."

"You may not be intended to close it down, Claire. You may have been summoned here as a monitor."

Claire blinked. "I find that highly unlikely. The last monitor was a Cousin."

"And the site was clearly too strong for him to manage. It needs a Keeper."

"If it needs me," she said, her eyes narrowing, "then it doesn't need a monitor."

"I can't see a way for you to safely interfere with the current arrangement. I think Dean's idea is correct; given there was a war on, the Keeper, or Keepers, who dealt with this situation probably intended their solution to be a temporary measure. They plugged in the first available Cousin, then were killed during the fighting. Augustus must have been quite young and would have agreed to watch the site until the Keepers returned. They never did, and he was held by his word until another came along.

"Just at the point where the site was about to destroy him utterly, there was Claire, drawn by his need to leave. I realize I'm speculating here, but I find myself feeling quite sorry for him."

"I don't." Claire flinched under her mother's gaze. "All right, yes I do. He got a raw deal, but I don't see why I should be happy to have the same one."

"Not exactly the same deal, if the site was intended to have a Keeper as a monitor."

"Or," Claire insisted, "if that Keeper was intended to close the site down. I'll tell you what I'm going to do, I'm going to find the Historian, find out exactly what those two Keepers did, then undo it. I have no intention of either allowing this to continue or of spending the rest of my life here."