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“Yes.” The old woman rested her elbows on the desk and eyed Kara shrewdly before continuing. “Have you ever heard of the Averoigne?”
The question was almost insulting. Anyone who’d spent any length of time in the Order’s massive library knew of the Averoigne. It was in the upper echelon of all credible paranormal reports, and one of the top continuous hauntings.
“Late 19th century Art Nouveau style hotel? New Hampshire?”
Xiomara actually looked pleased. “That’s the one.”
“Plagued with sightings since its inception.” Kara went on. “One of the only hotels that downplays its activity instead of promoting it.”
“Okay, now you’re just showing off.”
“Activity increases every winter. The only hotel to—”
“Oh shut the fuck up.”
Xiomara shoved a folder across the desk. A thick folder.
“Everything your wise little ass just recited is in there,” she snapped, “and then some. Read it. Study it. Know it all by the time you arrive, which should be in about nine or ten hours.”
“Ten hours?”
“There’s a car already waiting outside.”
“My—”
“Your shit is already packed.”
Kara’s mouth opened and closed slowly. She blinked twice in indignation. “You packed my stuff?”
The Head of the Hallowed Order leaned back in her chair and just grinned. “Oh you poor little princess. Do you think you’ll be okay?”
“You packed my stuff?”
Xiomara continued along, completely ignoring her. “I’ve sent equipment ahead already as well, everything you should need. And the owner of the Averoigne is expecting you. Make sure you shake the man down for whatever information he has. You’re good at that, LoPresti. Better than most.”
Kara swallowed hard. She’d received last-minute assignments before — there was nothing new about that. In the realm of investigating paranormal events, being able to leave on the fly was something that went with the territory.
But she’d never seen Xiomara this anxious to get her out of her office.
“So about your partner…”
Here it comes.
“Remember, you’re a grown woman, LoPresti.”
Kara growled.
“You’re well past being coddled. The whole ‘impetuous youth’ thing has worn off for you long ago, so—”
“Who is it?”
“—I don’t want to hear any whiny bullshit about you being uncomfortable.”
Uncomfortable?
“You’re going to lecture me about comfort?” Kara scoffed. “You sure seem comfortable enough sitting here in front of a warm fire, in your cashmere kaftan. Indulging in—”
Xiomara stood up. As always she wore one of the colorful tribal robes of her West African heritage. Today’s was a spectacular green and blue.
