Chronicles Of The Keeper - Summon The Keeper Part 30

"Ground rules," Claire told him, folding her arms and trying not to smile. "First, no throwing things."

"He started it." Jacques nodded at the cat.

"If he took poison, would you?"

"What would be the point?"

She had to admit that under the circ.u.mstances it was a stupid question. Actually, under most circ.u.mstances it was a stupid question. "Second, when you're in a room with either Dean, or me, or both of us, you must be visible."

"And thirdly? There is always a thirdly, yes?"

"Thirdly, if we're all going to live together for a while, let's make an effort to get along."

"I cannot go down there with you." Jacques squatted at the top of the stairs to better watch Claire descend. "Why not?"

"Because there's nothing of yours in the bas.e.m.e.nt."

"Is it because he lives in the bas.e.m.e.nt and you keep us from fighting over who is most important in your life?"

"Something like that." Claire smiled as she moved out of his line of sight. For the moment, it was surprisingly entertaining being the center of someone's universe.

"Cleaning is woman's work." Sprawled on the bed, the ghost peered around the room.

Dean very carefully coiled the vacuum cleaner cord around the back of the machine. "Is it?"

"Oui. Any man would know."

"Like you know it?" He picked up his divided bucket of cleaning supplies.

"Oui"

"Why don't you tell Claire?"

"That cleaning is woman's work?"

"Yeah."

"I cannot. She is in the bas.e.m.e.nt."

Dean mourned the missed opportunity. Even after only three days he had a fairly good idea of Claire's response to a declaration of that type.

"I think you need to rub harder."

"Don't you have something to do?" Dean growled, scowling up at the ghost. While searching for paint for the sign, he'd come across a can of paint remover and, although the dining room was still a catastrophe, Claire had decided he should spend the rest of the afternoon stripping the front counter.

Sitting on the countertop, Jacques thought about it, soundlessly drumming his heels. "No," he said cheerfully after a moment. "I will remain here and watch you."

"Don't."

"Dean."

He leaned around the flailing legs. "Yeah, Boss?"

Carrying a second box of triple-X videos from the sitting room, Claire pushed her hair up off her face with the back of her hand. "Jacques isn't hurting anything. He'd help if he could."

"I would," Jacques agreed cheerfully. "Truly I would help if I could."

"Yeah. Sure." Until this point. Dean had always been able to give any new acquaintance the benefit of the doubt. Until this point they'd all been alive, but if he disliked Jacques solely because he was dead, didn't that make him as much of a bigot as if he disliked him because he was French Canadian? Now, if he disliked him because of the way he acted around Claire, that opened a whole...

He threw his weight behind the sc.r.a.per.

... new...

Muscles bulged in his jaw as he gritted his teeth.

... barrel of fish.

"I think you reached the wood right there," Jacques pointed out conversationally.

"Claire?"

She paused, one hand on the doork.n.o.b. "What is it, Jacques?"

"You have put nothing of me in your bedroom." Standing on the threshold, he pushed against an invisible barrier. "I cannot come in."

"I know."

He stared soulfully at her. "I want only to be where you are."

"Why don't you try being back in the attic where your bed is and I'll see you in the morning." She pushed the door closed.

"Even though you close the door on my face, I still desire you!"

She had to smile. "Good night, Jacques." Switching off the light and dropping her robe, she climbed into bed.

"Claire?" His voice came faintly through the door. "I would just sit in the chair. My word as a Labaet."

"Good night, Jacques." After a moment, she sighed. "Jacques, go away. I can still feel you standing there."

"I am on guard so that your sleep is not disturbed."

"The only thing disturbing my sleep is you. Why won't you go away?"

"Because..." He paused and she felt him sigh. Or she felt the emotion behind the sigh; as he wasn't breathing, he didn't actually exhale. "Because I have been so many years alone."

Alone. Once again, the word throbbed between them, and once again it evoked an emotional response. Claire couldn't deny the urge to bring the small tapestry cushion, the cushion that gave him access to her sitting room, into the bedroom. She couldn't deny it, but she managed to resist it. "You can stand at the door if you want to." After a moment, she pushed her face into Austin's side and murmured, "This could become a problem."

"I told you so."