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“Good. I would enjoy that.”
I nodded, knowing he would. “Consider it a nonromantic date, assuming I’m not a swan by then.”
His face darkened. “There are far worse things than becoming a swan, Lorelei, and I wish none of them for you.”
CHAPTER8
Irolled over in bed as my alarm screeched in my ear. “Seven is too early to be anywhere.” There were few reasons I needed to be out of bed by six thirty. In London, early rising was rarely required. I’d speak to a ghost in the middle of the night and track the heir with the information I received at my leisure, usually during a mealtime so I could increase the odds of eating. Food was a big motivator for me, mainly because of a distinct lack of it during my teen years.
I cooked a hearty breakfast of bacon and eggs in anticipation of my assessment. I even skipped the coffee in favor of peppermint tea. The sacrifices I made for my friendly relations—and a few extra bucks.
I braved the early morning frost and fired up the truck. The heater took time to start, and I worried that would soon be another expense. Survival mode sucked. One of these days, I’d have enough money to live like Gun and Cam, splurging on items I didn’t need simply because I could. Arguably, I’d done that with my inflatable swan, but it only cost me twenty-three dollars. The real luxury would’ve been the one that lit up in the dark, but that would’ve been forty bucks. I wasn’t that cavalier with cash.
I drove to Magnarella’s compound, shivering. If I wanted to be cold, I would’ve ridden my motorcycle, although it seemed wise to arrive in the vehicle that had already been admitted.
A figure awaited me outside the sprawling compound. He was tall, thin, and bald, and had the kind of face that would’ve benefitted from facial hair. The purple puffer coat wasn’t doing him any favors either.
“I’m Albert Cummings,” he said, as I exited the truck. “You must be Lorelei Clay.”
“I am. Do you plan to assess me right here?” That would explain the early hour. No one would be likely to see us before sunrise.
Albert laughed. “No, but this place is massive. I thought it was easier to meet you than to explain which door to knock on.”
“I don’t know. You could make that part of the assessment.” I tilted my head. “Is there an intelligence test?”
“No, but I’ll be sure to pass along the suggestion. The team is always looking for improvements.” He hooked an arm. “Right this way, Miss Clay. This shouldn’t take too long and then you can get on with your day.” He glanced over his shoulder at me. “Big plans?”
“I have a ceiling to spackle. Does that count?”
He whistled. “Home renovations. I don’t envy you.”
I followed him around the side of the building to an unmarked door. He was right; I wouldn’t have found it without waking up the entire compound first.
“Welcome to the northeast wing.” He opened the door and motioned for me to enter.
Vinyl floor. A coffeepot. A mini fridge. Four semi-comfortable chairs. The room looked like a waiting room to a doctor’s office. There was none of the marble flooring and expensive artwork that was present in the main part of the house.
“I think you’re getting the short end of the stick, Albert. What’s your budget? Because you should at least request a Keurig.”
He continued along a corridor and opened the door to an adjacent room. “And this is where the magic happens.”
“Good thing you’re not my gynecologist or I’d have to punch you.”
He switched on the light to reveal another room with a desk, chair, computer, exam table, treadmill, and a variety of medical devices.
“Are you the one preparing the elixir?” I asked.
“Elixir? Why doesn’t he bite her?” He turned to gauge my reaction with a ready smile.
“I’m not laughing at that,” I informed him.
“Spoilsport. I can see you’re going to be fun. Dr. Edmonds makes the elixirs. I’m strictly an aide.”
“Edmonds has a doctorate?”
“Officially, it’s in pharmacology. Unofficially, it’s in potions. Mr. Magnarella hired him last year to work full-time at the compound.”
“He must’ve offered Edmonds a pretty sweet deal.”
