db1bd484fe8700408f51338793ca8c56

“Difficult to be that irritating by accident,” Claire murmured. The ridiculous list had banished embarrassment. Suddenly realizing that might have been his intent, she took a closer look at Dean and found his expression of solid helpfulness offset by a distinct twinkle behind the glasses.

“I thought you might want to know that Austin’s outside,” he said. “I opened the back door for him about five minutes ago.”

“Any response from Baby?”

“Not yet”

“So you thought she wanted to know, and now she is told.” Folding his arms, Jacques regained control of his definition. “You may go now,Anglais. The Keeper and I, we have a private conversation.”

“About giving you flesh?”

A finger, fully opaque in the artificial light of the lobby, jabbed at the air inches from Dean’s chest. “Donot start that again!”

Dean ignored him. When he turned to Claire, the twinkle was gone.“You wouldn’t, would you?”

“And why wouldn’t she?” Jacques asked matter-of-factly. “She is young, she is healthy, she has needs.”

“Jacques!” Her elbow went right through him.

“I only say that since there is no one else, I am here.” He turned on Dean, who was shaking his head. “What?”

“You’re dead!”

“And you cannot stand the thought of a dead man achieving that which you…”

This time Claire protested with power.

“OW!” Pulling himself together, the ghost turned to face her. “I have to say,cherie, I am not at this moment thrilled by your touch. Obviously, the mood has been broken. I will leave you now but, you have my word as a Labaet, I will keep my part of the bargain until we have a chance to speak again.”

“What did he mean,” Dean asked as Jacques vanished, “about keeping his part of the bargain?”

Claire shrugged, running her thumb along the edge of the counter.“Who knows what he thinks.”

[Ęŕđňčíęŕ: img_5]

A LIE! A LIE!

A PREVARICATION. WE CAN’T USE IT. SAYS WHO? THE RULES. DAMN THE RULES.

Heated air, redolent of sulfur and brimstone, gusted up into the furnace room. DON’T THINK WE HAVEN’T TRIED.

[Ęŕđňčíęŕ: img_5]

Before Dean could answer, Claire lifted her head and actually noticed what he was wearing.“Are you going out?”

He shoved his hands into the pockets of his faded, leather football jacket.“Yeah. I meet some friends from back home every Saturday night.” He hesitated, then continued in a rush. “Do you want to come, then?”

For a moment, she thought it might be nice to spend an uncomplicated evening with Dean and his friends, going to another pub, listening to music, with Dean and his very young friends, in another dark, smoky, crowded, overpriced pub, listening to over-loud music not being sung by a vampire.“Thanks for asking, but no thanks.”

“My friends wouldn’t mind.”

[Ęŕđňčíęŕ: img_5]

A LIE!

IN KINDNESS.

BUT…

OH, GIVE IT UP.

[Ęŕđňčíęŕ: img_5]

Claire hid a smile.“It’s okay. I’ve got things to take care of.”

“I, uh, heard Ms. Moore’s van leave.”

He was far too nice to look as relieved by her refusal as she knew he felt.“It’s her last night at the pub.”

“The stalker?”

“I think he got scared off.”

He thought, as she’d intended him to, that she meant he’d been scared off when he’d been chased away from the vans. “Will you be okay alone?”

“I’ll be fine.”

“And what on earth do you think you could do if I wasn’t?” remained mostly silent.

[Ęŕđňčíęŕ: img_5]

Should I have insisted? Dean asked himself as he paused halfway down the front stairs to let his eyes grow accustomed to the dark. From what he understood of Claire’s life, it had to be a lonely existence, constantly on the move with few opportunities to make real friends.

A sudden vision of Claire sitting at the Portsmouth with the guys and Kathy, listening to them swap stupid mainlander stories, picking up her round of beer in turn, stopped him from going back into the lobby. They wouldn’t be rude. In fact, they’d be glad to see another woman in the group, but she wouldn’t fit in.

And she wouldn’t try to, he admitted.Maybe you should stay with her, boy. Keep that dead freak away. Wondering just how Jacques knew what Claire’s needs were, he turned toward the office window in time to see her drop to her knees and out of sight.Oh, man, not the imps again.

Fists in his pockets, he continued down to the sidewalk, navigating the uneven brick steps with the ease of familiarity, and made his way out to the bus stop on King Street without looking back. What with scraping the front counter and refinishing the dining room floor, not to mention the weirder stuff, it had been some long week and he wasn’t up to another argument about the types of vermin infesting the guesthouse. Now that he thought about it, he was really looking forward to a nice, normal evening, finding out how many mainlanders it took to screw in a light-bulb, and watching George drink until he puked.

[Ęŕđňčíęŕ: img_5]