Long Hot Summoning by Tanya Huff Page A

Like all cats, he knew when he was being told “No!”. he usually ignored it, but he knew.
    He’d just been told in no uncertain terms.
    The possibilities would not allow him to cross over.
    When the door to the access corridor remained closed, his eye narrowed. Had she been able to, Claire would have returned immediately to find him. She hadn’t, so therefore she couldn’t. The question now became: why?
    Fortunately, there was a way to find out.
    Unfortunately, even up on his hind legs, he could just barely stretch to touch the bottom of the latch plate.
    Okay, new plan.
    Dropping to all fours, he stared at the closed door, a position proven to bring a talking monkey trotting to his assistance.
    “Not a problem, ladies, I’ve got more T-shirt sizes in the back room.” Or possibly a talking whatever the troll claimed as an evolutionary precedent.
    As the door opened, Austin slid in behind a crate marked with both a biohazard and a live cargo symbol. Curious, he took a sniff at one of the air holes, but the crate was empty and had been for some time-probably a good thing although he could easily imagine scenarios where it wouldn’t be. With the troll’s full attention fixed on pulling an XXX large Astarte Fan Club out of a shipping carton of T-shirts, he slipped through the doorway and into the Emporium.
    A fast right, a dive under a raised display case, a quick creep forward belly to the ground brought him behind a basket of small plastic jewelry boxes. Head cocked, he listened for the straining gears that would indicate someone with a desire to hear music played on pieces of bent tin had wound the key. When he finally found a silent box, he flipped it open. The miniature Republican in a frilly pink tutu remained motionless in front of the mirror.
    Austin smacked the tiny politician out of his way and tipped the box back until its mirror reflected only the security mirror up by the ceiling.

    Fortunately, cats were masters of refraction.
    The direct approach would have taken him right into the troll’s line of sight now that the big guy was back at the counter explaining washing instructions to the Tshirt’s new owner-apparently, the bloodstains were not supposed to come out.
    Blue-on-blue eyes drifted up from the depths of the jewelry box mirror.
    “What are you doing here?” the mirror demanded, its usual booming tones more of a low tinkle.
    Muzzle so close his breath fogged the glass. “The possibilities wouldn’t let me cross.”
    “Age thing?”
    Austin shrugged. “Maybe. Maybe the idiots in charge think two cats would give the good guys an unfair advantage; I don’t know. Can you get a message through to my people on the Otherside? I need to know that Claire’s all right; she needs to know that I’m safe.”
    “I can do better than that. I should be able to patch you through, cat to cat.
    Video only, though, no audio. You want full bandwidth, you’ll need a crystal ball.”
    “Video’s fine.” If Claire could see him, she’d know he was okay and could concentrate on doing her job. He scanned the store for something visual that would help get his message through and just when it seemed that nothing at all said
    “Dean,” he spotted the rack of ceramic nameplates.
    The rules governing tacky gift store purchases clearly stated that no one was to ever find exactly the name they were looking for.
    Cats made their own rules.
    Utilizing the speed that could hook a fry from unsuspecting fingers during the instant it passed between plate and lips, Austin leaped into the air, got a paw under his objective, and was on the floor with it before the troll could look up from making change, the impact with the carpet barely audible over the muttered, “Five and six is thirteen plus eight is twenty.”
    The name was right although the decoration of two obscenely cute mice eating a giant strawberry didn’t exactly say six foot two, obsessively tidy, Newfie hockey player. Oh, wait, not a giant strawberry-