Chronicles Of The Keeper - Summon The Keeper Part 8

"Dean, did you know this was down here?"

He frowned, confused by the question. Since he obviously spent a lot of time in the bas.e.m.e.nt... "Sure."

"Why didn't you mention it earlier?"

"It's just the furnace room."

"The furnace room." Claire exchanged a speaking glance with the cat. "Have you ever been in this alleged furnace room?"

"No. Mr. Smythe did all the furnace work himself."

"I'll bet." The keys were hanging beside the door. The security arrangements were clearly not intended to keep people out but to keep something in. "What was he heating this place with," she muttered, dragging the first chain free. "A dragon?"

Dean took the chain, removed the second length, and hung them both neatly on the hooks provided. "Are you kidding?"

"Mostly. Any virgins reported missing from the neighborhood?"

"Pardon?"

"Forget it." Claire pulled the door open about six inches and leaned away from the blast of heat. "Do you mind?" she asked as Austin slipped in ahead of her. "Try to remember what curiosity killed." Moving forward, she felt remarkably calm. At first she thought she was just numb, it had, after all, been a busy morning, but when she stepped over the threshold, she realized that the entire furnace room had been wrapped in a dampening field.

Much more powerful than a mere s.h.i.+eld, it not only deflected the curious but was quite probably the only thing allowing people to remain in the building.

Down nine steps, inscribed into the rough surface of a bedrock floor, was a complicated, multicolored, multilayered pentagram. The center of the pentagram was an open hole. A dull red light, s.h.i.+ning up from the depths, painted lurid highlights on the copper hood hanging from the ceiling. Ductwork directed the rising heat up into the hotel.

Must have a h.e.l.luva filter system, Claire thought, wrinkling her nose at the stink of fire and brimstone.

And then it sank in. Unfortunately, the dampening field had no effect inside the furnace room.

Heart pounding, hot sweat rolling down her sides, she bent and scooped up Austin, who'd flattened himself to the floor. With the cat held tightly against her chest, she forced herself down the first three steps.

"Where are you going?" he hissed, claws digging into her shoulder.

"To check the seal."

"Why?"

"Because Augustus Smythe couldn't have held this."

"Then obviously someone else is. And there's only one someone else in this building."

"She's holding it, it's holding her." Claire went down another three steps and nodded toward the pentagram. "There's her name. Sara."

"Don't..."

"It's all right. If her name could get through the field, they'd have woken her years ago." There was a vibration in the air, just on the edge of sound, an almost hum as though they were walking toward the world's largest wasp's nest. "On the other hand, you know that low-level buzz I mentioned last night? There seems to be some seepage."

"But you couldn't feel it this morning."

"Not outside this room, no. Augustus Smythe probably used it up making his getaway."

"That's bad."

"Well, it's not good." Placing her feet with care, she backed up the stairs, squeezed over the threshold, shoved Dean away from the door, and very, very gently, pushed it closed.

"Was it a dragon?" Dean asked, not entirely certain why he hadn't followed her inside but untroubled by the uncertainty.

"No." As the dampening field began to take effect, it became possible to think again. "It wasn't a dragon."

"Then was it a furnace?"

"Sort of." She unhooked Austin's claws from her shoulder and settled him more comfortably in her arms, her free hand rhythmically stroking his fur and sending clouds of loose hair flying. He tucked his head up under her chin, and left it there.

"Was it the hole?"

Claire giggled. She couldn't help it, but she managed to cut it short; she hadn't expected such a literal example of the explanation she'd created to fit a bystander's limited world. "Oh, yes, it was the hole." Still cradling the cat, she started toward the bas.e.m.e.nt stairs, head up, back straight. "Could you please replace the chains and the locks?"

Dean had the strangest feeling that if he tapped her shoulder as she pa.s.sed, she'd ring out like a weather buoy. "Are you all right, then?"

"I'm fine."

"Where are you going?"

"Upstairs."

He shook his head, thought about opening the door and taking a look for himself and for reasons he wasn't quite clear on, decided not to. "Hey, Boss?"

It took Claire a moment to realize who he was talking to. Three steps up, she paused and leaned out from the stairs so she could see him. "Yes?"

"What are you after doing?"

"I'm going to do what anyone in this situation would do; I'm going to get a second opinion."

"From who?"

Her smile looked as if it had been borrowed and didn't quite fit. "I'm going to call my mother."

Behind the chains, behind the turquoise door, down the stairs, and deep in the pit, intelligence stirred. h.e.l.lO?

When it realized there'd be no answer, it sighed. d.a.m.n.

CHAPTER TWO.

"Hansen residence."

The voice on the other end of the line was not one Claire had expected to hear. "Diana?" Unable to remain still, she picked up the old rotary phone and paced the length of the office and back. "What are you doing home? I thought you were doing fieldwork this weekend."