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One
Blackstone Manor wasn’t black. It wasn’t even made of stone. But the old Tudor-style manorhouse more than made up for the mischaracterization. Its historic halls were warm and inviting, its sprawling estate groomed and well-manicured. They had been for a hundred and eighty years. Would be for centuries more.
It was as if time had no power here.
Kara squirmed into her high-backed chair, her ass squeaking noisily against the leather. No matter what she did, she couldn’t get comfortable. Not in this room. Not now.
“Everything alright Ms. LoPresti?”
Besides, she was just too restless.
“You’re shifting around like you’ve got bugs crawling all over you.”
She stared over the ancient wooden desk, at the tiny woman sitting behind it. She was frail and dark-skinned, but sat dignified and upright, without the slightest hint of a hunch. Behind her the massive fireplace of the office roared and crackled, casting shadows over the rich, wood-paneled room.
“I’m fine,” Kara declared. The glass of water on the desk in front her remained untouched. She resisted the urge to reach for it.
“Then what’s the fucking problem?”
Kara’s mouth curled into a smirk. When it came to social graces, Xiomara Magoro lacked many things. Bluntness wasn’t one of them.
“I said—”
“It’s just strange, that’s all,” Kara said. “That you’d pair me up with another member of the Order. Especially when you and I both know I work best alone.”
Xiomara leaned forward, emerging from the silhouette of the fire behind her. “Don’t tell me what I know,” she snapped. “You work best when you’re focused. And lately, you’ve been pretty fucking distracted.”
She waved one small hand dismissively. Kara bit her tongue. It was tough but she did it.
“And besides,” the woman continued, “this is too big a project for any one member. Especially not right now.”
Kara’s dark brow furrowed. “Right now? What’s so important about—”
“The opportunity is time sensitive,” Xiomara replied. “It’s… inherent to something that happens in just a few short days.”
Now Kara did reach for the glass, if only to give herself a moment to think. The technique worked.
“The winter solstice?”
“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 investiga
ting paranormal events, being able to leave on the fly was something that went with the territory.
