Chronicles Of The Keeper - Summon The Keeper Part 28

"On to where? That is the question." His eyes serious, he laid his hand over hers. "I tell you. Keeper, I was not the best of men. A bad man, no, but I cannot say and be certain that I was a good man. I would like to be certain before I go on."

Claire could understand that. Especially considering what waited in the furnace room.

"So." He rolled over on his side and his fingers tightened around hers. "Since I seem to be remaining for a time and we seem to be alone together, so conveniently on a bed, perhaps we could get to know each other better?"

s.n.a.t.c.hing her hand through his, his grip no more confining than cool smoke, Claire leaped to her feet. "Don't you ever let up? While I appreciate your need for companions.h.i.+p, I do not appreciate being continually propositioned!"

His eyes widened, his expression injured innocence. "But when first I see you, you are so beautiful, how can I not want you?"

"That has more to do with how long you've been alone than it does with me."

"I do not want that Dean and I see him, too," he pointed out reasonably. "And I am not to blame that it has for me been such a very long time."

"What do you expect? You're dead."

Back up on one elbow, he rested his chin on his palm and waggled both brows suggestively. "The spirit is willing..."

"But the flesh is nonexistent."

"You are a Keeper. For a time, I can be incubus for you."

Claire groped behind her for a chair and sat down rather abruptly. "How do you know that?"

"There was a Keeper when I was dead no more than ten or fifteen years. She came to my room, de temps en temps, that is, from time to time. She is not so young as you, but when no one else makes offers..."

The hair lifted off the back of Claire's neck and she fought the urge to turn and check the s.p.a.ce behind her. "Bleached blonde, full-figured, pouty mouth, very red lipstick?"

"Oui." His eyes narrowed. "You know Sa..."

"Don't say her name. She's still here."

"Then I..." He disappeared. "... am not."

A little surprised, Claire scanned the area, trying to find him. She didn't want to have to compel him to return. "I thought you two... you know?"

"Non. You do not know." His voice came from near the window. "There are legends about women like her, try to suck a man's soul out his..."

"I get the picture," Claire interrupted hurriedly, not really in the mood for a graphic description in either language.

"Why is that one still here?"

How much to tell him? "Do you know what Keepers do?"

"She told me. They guard the places where evil can enter the world." He rematerialized, cross-legged on the bed, expressive features folded into worry. "But me, I think she want the evil for herself. I do not know what happened, but all at once, she did not come and Augustus Smythe was here. He is not a Keeper."

"No, he's a Cousin. Less powerful. She..." It was impossible not to pick up Jacques' inflection. "... was put to sleep for trying to take over the, um, evil." Claire could see no reason to be more specific, especially considering Jacques' transitional state and his lack of certainty over his final destination.

"She was put to sleep?" His voice rose, making it more a shriek than a question. "And if she wake up?"

"It won't happen."

"So you say. Me, I learn a lullaby or two. And now, what happens? To me?"

Claire frowned, uncertain of what he meant. "Nothing happens to you. She can't do anything while she's asleep or she'd have done something by now."

"Je ne demande pas ce qu'elle peut faire a moi?" Agitation threw him back into French. "I know what she can do to me." He raised both hands and made a visible effort to calm down. "I am asking what do you do now with me."

"What do I do?" He was persistent, she'd give him that. "Nothing."

"Nothing happens to me for years." Jacques lay down again and flung an arm up over his eyes.

"Could you please reattach that? It looks disgusting."

Jacques sighed but complied. "At least will you visit?"

"When I can."

"Ah, you have no time because you must guard the place where evil can enter the world?"

"I'm working at sealing the hole."

"And when the hole is sealed?"

"Then I'll move on."

Opening one eye, he peered up at her. "Will you bring back my table?"

"No. You don't need it." When he began a sorrowful protest, Claire cut him off. "You began haunting the attic when Augustus Smythe moved the furniture up from the room you died in, right?"

"Oui."

She chewed on a corner of her lower lip. "Did he know you were there?"

"He knew. He did not care." Jacques rolled back up onto his side. Misery made his eyes surprisingly dark. "For so many years with no one who cared; do you know, cherie, I think that is worse than h.e.l.l."

Which explained why there was no response from the bas.e.m.e.nt. h.e.l.l appreciated pain. "I have an idea."

Something heavy hit the floor in the room above the dining room. Dean and Austin stared at the ceiling.

"What do think she's doing up there?"

"She's still in the attic," Austin told him. "And so the question becomes, what's she doing up there?"

Dean leaned into his polis.h.i.+ng cloth with a certain amount of violent activity. "Finding antiques."

"I'm amazed you left them up there together." The cat flopped down on the polished end of the table and stretched to his full length. "A woman. A man. Didn't you say he was a sailor? You know what they say about sailors."

"They don't say it about dead sailors." He peered sideways at the cat. "Austin, can I ask you a personal question? Were you castrated?"