Chronicles Of The Keeper - Summon The Keeper Part 52

"And that would be a problem because?"

"People who see ghosts seldom keep the information to themselves." Carefully working stripper-soaked steel wool carefully along the grain of the wood, she wrinkled her nose at the smell. "And I don't feel like dealing with tabloid reporters."

"I know reporters, but what are tabloids?"

"Sleazy newspapers that deal in cheap sensationalism. Hundred-year-old woman has lizard baby, that sort of thing."

"Is that not what Keepers deal in?"

"No."

"Hole to h.e.l.l in bas.e.m.e.nt?"

"It's not the same."

"Woman sleeps for fifty years?"

Shifting her weight back onto her heels, she turned and glared at him. "You know what your problem is? You never know when to quit!"

He c.o.c.ked an eyebrow and spread his hands. "Evidentment. If I knew when to quit, I would not be haunting this place, and if I were not haunting this place, I would not have met you. Voila, all is for the best." Wrapping a weightless grip around Claire's fingers, he leaned forward and murmured, "Have I ever told you how s.e.xy I find big, pink rubber gloves?"

She laughed in spite of herself, pulling her hand back through his. "You're unbelievable." The laughter vanished when he started to fade. "Jacques?"

"If you do not believe," he told her mournfully, "you cannot see me."

"Stop it!"

Rematerializing, he grinned triumphantly. "You do not want to lose me."

Lips pressed tightly together, Claire bent back over the bit of unstripped molding on the counter. Her search for the Historian had ended up at a medieval bazaar selling j.a.panese electronics, and her hour with Sara had brought her no closer to an answer. She'd have to study both ends of the balance if she wanted to figure it out and that meant spending time next to the pit. Since she'd been in the furnace room once already today and since stripping the counter had been her idea...

She'd like to see it finished before she left. She'd like to see the dining room finished, too, wallpaper, trim, blinds, maybe new light fixtures.

This is nuts. The steel wool stopped moving. When she closed this site, need would summon her to another. It might be in Kingston, there were, after all sixty thousand people in the city and townships and population density was directly proportional to how often a Keeper was needed, but it might be across the continent. Or on another continent entirely. I am not getting attached to this place.

"Claire? I do not want to lose you either. Please, I am sorry. Come back to me."

"I haven't gone anywhere." The silence clearly stated he didn't believe her. She shifted from knee to knee and finally sighed, "Could I give you flesh to help me finish this?"

"Non." Although she didn't turn to look she could hear the relieved smile in his voice. "I can take flesh only to give you pleasure."

"It'd give me pleasure to have some help with this."

"It does not work that way."

She sighed again, resting her forehead on the edge of a shelf. "Why," she asked dramatically, "am I not surprised?"

Sasha Moore checked out that evening, paying for her room in cash. "Will I see you in the spring?" she asked, effortlessly swinging her heavy duffel bag up onto one shoulder.

Claire stared at her, aghast. "The spring?"

"Comes after winter. The snow melts. The dog c.r.a.p lies exposed on the lawn."

"I won't be here in the spring."

"I hope you're not expecting old Gus to come back. He's blown this popsicle stand for good." The vampire paused at the door. "Oh, yeah; Dean's memory of me's going to get a bit foggy. I don't like to leave too many specifics behind." Ebony brows rose and fell suggestively. When it became obvious that Claire was not going to respond to this mild provocation, she snapped pale fingers. "Hey, Keeper!"

Wandering thoughts jerked back to the lobby. "What?"

"Domo arigato on that lifesaving thing. I know, I know, you'd do it for anyone, but this time you did it for me. In return, can I offer you these words of wisdom, culled from a long and eventful existence? You needn't bother answering 'cause I'm going to anyway.

"First of all, at the risk of sounding like Kenny Rogers, G.o.d forbid, you should make the best of the hand you've been dealt. Second, a genuine, unselfish offer of help is the most precious gift you'll ever be given. And third, remember that you never have to travel alone..." Teeth flashed. "... hitchhikers make a handy protein supplement when on the road. Thanks for coming, you've been a wonderful audience, maybe we can do this again sometime, less the a.s.shole trying to kill me, of course."

Claire stared at the closed door for a moment, then jerked around to the window as the red van roared down the driveway, honked twice, and disappeared into the night.

"Is Ms. Moore gone?"

Dean's voice seemed to come from very far away. She nodded, without turning.

"Did she say if she'd be back in the spring?"

It was only just October, not even winter yet, spring was impossibly far away. "I won't be here in the spring. I'll have finished up and moved on."

"Okay." That wasn't what he'd asked, but since it was clearly on Claire's mind... "That, uh, book you've got soaking? It's starting to stink up the fridge."

"It needs to soak a little longer."

"But..."

"I need that information. Dean, and I'm not going to risk losing it because you don't like the way it smells."

"Is Claire coming out for breakfast?"

"In a minute," Austin told him, staring alternately at his empty dish and Dean. "She has to have another shower first. The Historian appears to have led her through an area populated by ruminants."

"Say what?"

"She crawled through some cow s.h.i.t. Are you going to feed me, or what?"

Weighing the bag of geriatric kibble in one hand. Dean scratched the back of his neck with the other. "There should be a lot more in this."

"Not necessarily. I told the mice they could help themselves. With any luck we'll run out on the weekend when the vet's closed, and you'll have to feed me something decent."

The next morning, Dean handed Claire a cup of coffee and watched in concern as she slumped against the sink and stuffed a whole piece of toast into her mouth. "Manage to avoid the cow s.h.i.t this morning?" he asked hesitantly.

Claire snorted, blowing crumbs onto the spotless stainless steel. "This morning," she said, and paused to swallow, "I crawled through the cow. Same end result though," she added after a moment.

"You know, lady, I got a cousin who does renovations. Not too expensive," the locksmith a.s.sured her as he screwed down the new plate. He nodded toward the charred, smoke-damaged interior of room six. "Why leave a room in that condition when you can fix it up and use it, that's what I say. You gotta spend money to make money, you know?"