db1bd484fe8700408f51338793ca8c56

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.”

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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 shit 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.

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“You know, lady, I got a cousin who does renovations. Not too expensive,” the locksmith assured 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?”

“We’re not that busy. Which,” she added dryly, “is a good thing. I called you four days ago.”

“Hey, I couldn’t have got here faster if you’d been Old Nick himself.”

WANNA BET?

The locksmith pulled bushy brows down toward his nose.“Did you say something?”

“No.”

“Thought I heard…Never mind. You know, you don’t have to stay with me. I can just come down when I finish up.”

“Like I said,” Claire told him, keeping the glamour centered over the actual contents of the room, “we’re not that busy.”

“Oh, I get it. Lonely, eh? I know how you feel; some days when I don’t leave the shop, I’m ready to climb the walls by four, four-thirty. No one to talk to, you know? What was that?” He leaned around the door, staring at the floor by the curtained window, then settled back on his heels, shaking his head. “It sorta looked like a bright blue mouse.”

“Trick of the shadows,” Claire said tightly. It figured that the locksmith would see the imp when neither Dean nor Austin ever had.

A few moments later, his weight on the newly installed doorknob, the locksmith heaved himself to his feet and flicked the open flange with his free hand.“Quite the secondary locking system. I guess you can’t be too careful about this kind of thing, eh? I mean, one tourist wanders in here, hurts himself on a bit of loose board and the next thing you know, you’re being sued.”

Peering through the glamour, Claire checked that Aunt Sara remained undisturbed by all the banging.“If a tourist wandered in here, being sued would be the least of my concerns. But you needn’t worry, this is only a temporary measure.”

“So you are going to fix it?”

“Sooner or later.”

“Hopefully sooner, eh?” He pulled the door closed and nodded with satisfaction as the lock clicked into place. “When the time comes, and you need some help, don’t forget my cousin.”

Claire had a vision of the locksmith and his cousin facing down the hordes of Hell. It was strangely comforting.

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The ink soaked out of the site journal had turned the onions blue. The brine had been absorbed and the whole thing smelled like pickled sewage. With a cheese sauce.

When Claire opened the plastic container, Austin left the building.

Breathing shallowly through her mouth, she used a fork to tease apart the pages. The process had been partially successful. The few pages of Augustus Smythe’s notes now legible made it clear he knew an incredible number of dirty limericks but offered no other useful information.

The first four pages after his summoning remained stuck together in a glutinous blue mass.

“One more week should do it,” Claire sniffed at Dean, peeling another three onions and dropping them into fresh brine.

“Great,” Dean gasped. He snuck a look at the card.

Aunt Claire, Keeper

Your Accident is my Opportunity

(face it, life stinks)

Later, he threw out the fork.

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“This is the sixth morning in a row she’s come out of that wardrobe looking wiped. Two days ago, she fell asleep in that old armchair up in room six, and yesterday she didn’t have enough energy to take the chains off the furnace room door.”

Austin lifted his head off his paws and gazed across the dining room at Claire, who’d fallen asleep with her cheek on an egg salad sandwich. “Did you take them off for her?”

“No. I figured if she was too tired to open the door, she was too tired to face Hell.”

“I’ve said all along you’re more than just a pretty face. What did Claire say?”

Dean grinned.“That I was an interfering, idiotic bystander.”

“That’s all?” The cat snorted. “She must’ve been tired.”

“What’s happening in that wardrobe, Austin?”

“From the steely-eyed determination on her face when she goes in, I’d say she’s trying too hard. The other side has kind of zen thing going, you can’t force it.”

“So she’s doing it to herself, then?”

“Well, I don’t think she’d have chosen to fight her way through those pre-Christmas sales this morning but, yeah, essentially.”