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“Only for your sake,ma petite sorci?re,” Jacques muttered sulkily, throwing himself back down onto the bed,“would I tolerate this lump of flesh.”

Dean moved toward the chair, then shook his head and remained standing.“No. He called me a Newfie like it’s an insult. I don’t take that from anyone, living or dead.”

“You think I am to apologize?” Leaning back on one elbow, Jacques raised his free hand scornfully. “I think not.”

“Okay.” Full lips pressed into a thin line, Dean turned on one heel and started toward the stairs. “I’m sorry, Boss, but if you want me, I’ll be in the kitchen.”

“Ha! Go on, run away! I scare off better men than you!” When Dean disappeared behind the stacked furniture, Jacques quieted and turned a speculative glance on Claire. “You will not stop him?”

“How?”

“Ah, oui, you cannot wave the dreaded exorcism over him.” Then his expression softened, and he laced his fingers behind his head, the lopsided grin not so much suggestive as explicit “Or perhaps you want to be alone with me as I want to be alone with you. Yes?”

“No. Did you intend to drive him away?”

“Non. But I intend to take advantage of it.”

Claire rolled her eyes.“I think not. Perhaps I should leave, too.”

“You would leave me alone?” Letting his head fall back against the mattress, Jacques sighed deeply. “For still more long and weary years. Alone.” He paused for a moment then repeated, “Alone.”

All the playacting, all the cheerful seduction, had disappeared. Although she knew she should maintain both a professional and personal distance, Claire couldn’t help responding emotionally. Rising out of the armchair, she walked over and sat down on the edge of the bed. It sagged under her weight. “You don’t have to stay here alone, Jacques; not any more. I can send you on.”

“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?”

Snatching 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 companionship, 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 space 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 onestill 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 thinkshe 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 ifshe wake up?”

“It won’t happen.”

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