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She waited until Xiomara was fully finished with her report, then Kara launched into everything they’d learned about the Averoigne. Jeremy and Logan piped in, talking about the history of the hotel, Victor Walcott, and all the strange happenings they’d experienced so far. They also mentioned recovering every artifact necessary to recreate the ceremony, other than the scrying crystal.
“If you do this,” Xiomara warned, “you must be meticulous. Hell, let Manning do the setup on that. He’s anal as fuck. He’ll get it right.”
“Thanks,” Jeremy said wryly.
“Hey don’t get smarmy with me,” Xiomara snapped, wagging a finger. “It’s not my fault you’ve always been wound up tighter than a crab’s ass. And shit, these two idiots have gotten more done in three days than you accomplished in three weeks there! So if I were you, I’d stop flapping my gums.”
Kara tapped her fingers and looked away. She was trying to avoid eye contact with Jeremy, as well as escape the Head of Order’s extended wrath. Sometimes Xiomara could go off like a hand grenade. Anyone in the immediate vicinity would get injured by her shrapnel.
“So what’s your backup plan?” the old woman was suddenly asking.
Logan blinked. “Backup plan?”
“Yeah, in case this whole sorry thing goes to shit.”
The three of them looked to each other helplessly. After a moment, they shrugged.
“Jesus Christ,” Xiomara swore. “So your backup plan is to wait another whole fucking year? Until the next winter solstice?”
Their shoulders slumped. Jeremy opened his mouth to say something, but Kara kicked him off camera.
“Right then,” said Xiomara. “Don’t fuck it up.”
“We won’t,” Kara promised quickly.
Xiomara didn’t look so sure. Her eyes narrowed until they were two tiny slits in the wrinkled landscape of her face.
“Okay.” Her expression softened, and in only a slightly gentler tone she added: “Just be careful.”
The old woman went to kill the connection, missed the ‘END’ button, and walked off grumbling and rubbing her backside. She began cursing loudly about something — yelling ferociously at someone off-screen — when Kara reached down and ended the call on their end.
The three of them looked back at each other wearily, like shell-shocked veterans sharing a beer after a mortar attack.
“Isn’t she the best?” smirked Logan.
Thirty-Seven
Their final day at the Averoigne passed quickly.
They spent most of it getting ready, checking and double-checking their gear, and going over last minute details. Then they cleaned up, rested a bit, and met back downstairs for a late dinner.
For once there was no tension between them. Conversation was light, even pleasant, and the three of them found themselves laughing together. They were near the end, Kara realized. It was almost over, and the stress of being cooped up in the old hotel was finally draining away.
Even so, there was still plenty to be done.
It took two trips to get all of their stuff up to room 334. This included three tripods, two full-spectrum cameras, battery backups and the infrared. The latter was extremely hi-tech, military grade night-vision. Because while the Hallowed Order took great care in choosing when and how to take footage of an event? They quite literally spared no expense.
The room had been cleaned even better than Logan indicated. There wasn’t a speck of dust anywhere. Still without electricity, a dozen large candles had been arranged at intervals throughout the room. They cast a warm glow over everything, even the fully-made, four-poster bed.
“Red satin sheets?” Kara smirked.
“I’m pretty sure they’re real silk,” said Logan. “But yeah, Radcliffe says they’re original to the room. They were laundered along with everything else.”
They went through the motions of setting up, each of them moving with almost mechanical ease. In the end the cameras covered the entire room. Every corner was within range, but centrally they were focused on the mirror.
Whatever happens tonight, we’re getting it, thought Kara. The idea of finally pleasing Xiomara for once actually excited her. And whatever happens should be good.
When it was all done they sat quietly, listening in the silence. Logan and Kara rested on the edge of the bed. Jeremy leaned back into a carved ironwood chair.
