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“Nonmagical people?”
I nod. “Of course. Scholars, curators, professors…”
“American?”
“Yes, but knowledgeable and—”
“Good. The less risk of inquiries coming back to these shores and reaching anyone magical, the better.” He hesitates. “Pictures of the symbol only, not the book itself.”
“You have a camera?”
“My mobile phone does.”
“You have a phone?”
A corner of his mouth quirks up. “My cooking is tragic. How else would I order takeaway?”
So the big, bad warrior can poke fun at himself? Despite the gravity of everything that’s happened, I have to hold in a smile.
He hands me his cell phone. It’s an older model. Its camera doesn’t have the best resolution, but I’ll make do.
Quickly, I snap a picture of the symbol only, cropping out the book in the background before I email it to myself from his phone.
“Do you have a computer?”
With a sigh, he trudges across the hall, to the back of the house, and opens a small door. It houses a stacked washing machine and dryer. On a little table, wedged in the corner, sits a cardboard box with the lid flung open. Marrok gives it an expectant stare.
“This is it?”
Teeth gritted, he nods.
From the look of the dusty box, it’s been here for a few months. “It’s not hooked up.”
“Not for lack of trying,” he grouses.
Suddenly, the picture becomes clear. Mr. Big, Bad Dark Ages isn’t good with technology. My mother hated it, and she was a millennial. I can only imagine the learning curve when there’s more than a thousand years between birth and booting up. It’s astonishing that Marrok can manage a microwave.
I hide a giggle behind my hand, but he’s too perceptive.
“Do you laugh at me? Remember well, I skewered people for a living. This whole Wi-Fi, RAM, operating system vocabulary is worse than ancient Greek. That I understand.”
For a man nearly the size of a mammoth, he’s kind of…cute when he’s disgruntled. “What made you decide to buy a computer?”
His jaw couldn’t look any harder if it had been set in concrete. “Online purchasing. My thumbs are too big to shop on my mobile, and I do not like people or cities. Having things delivered to my doorstep appealed.”
Hmm. Definitely not the life of the party.
“I can hook this up.”
He looks relieved. “Thank you.”
I attack the Styrofoam cradling the unit.
“Are you hungry? ’Tis been nearly two days since you have eaten.”
“Famished.”
“What can I get you?”
