I walked up the stairs and Drake followed. At the top, I looked down the narrow hallway. “Are they all occupied?”
“Just you and Dove tonight,” he said. “Lenette gave you the room at the end on the left.”
“Okay.”
As I started down the hall, one of the doors on the right opened, and a man dressed in a polo shirt, khakis, and tennis shoes exited. He held a handful of pink towels. He looked at me and Drake and offered a smile. “Washer foul,” he said. “Never put red socks in with white towels.”
I didn’t do laundry, so I had no idea what the etiquette was for putting clothes in the washer. Since I had household staff at my home, my dirty clothes disappeared from the hamper and appeared clean and pressed in my closet. As far as I was concerned it was magic. Well, more likely it was the steely-eyed glare and OCD machinations of Mr. Harold Keyter, who was the ruler of the staff and all things house-related. My grandfather had hired him twenty years ago, so Mr. Keyter had had the delightful experience of meeting me when I was fourteen. You know, right before I suffered my breakdown and went into psychiatric care. And I have been a delight to be around ever since. Mr. Keyter was respectful, but firm in his manner and tone. To this day, despite practically being family, he called me Dr. Jameson and I called him Mr. Keyter. Some things are just done a certain way, no matter what. And there is comfort in the unchanging, no matter how small. I knew too well how life could upend your expectations and screw with you.
“Hello,” he said. The man looked odd. His skin was kinda gray, and he moved somewhat stiffly, like he had joint problems. “I’m Lenette’s husband,” he said.
“Nice to see you again,” said Drake. “This is our archaeologist, Dr. Moira Jameson.”
“You’re here to address the pyramid issue,” he said.
“Yes,” I said. I was trying not to stare. I couldn’t figure out what this guy was. Maybe he was a warlock since he was married to a witch? Or were males just called witches, too? Or was he something else?
“I’ll let you get to bed,” said the man. “Good night.”
We wished him good night as well, and then he shuffled off. Drake led me to my room, unlocked the door with an old-fashioned brass key, and ushered me inside.
“Okay. What was he?” I asked.
“We don’t quite know,” said Drake. “Half zombie, maybe.”
“How the hell can you be half of a zombie?”
“He was bitten by one, and he didn’t die. Or turn into one. He’s alive. Sorta.” Drake shrugged. “Broken Heart has many different creatures from the parakind world.”
“And nobody knows you guys are out here in . . . er, where are we again?”
“Oklahoma.”
I blinked. I’d never had cause to go to this part of the country. And if I had, going to Oklahoma wouldn’t have been at the top of my list. I couldn’t think of single thing I knew about this state. My brain files mostly had items about ancient cultures. Oh, wait! Oklahoma had the Heavener Runestone. Now that would be interesting to see. The theory that Vikings had traveled through our part of the American continent was an exciting idea.
“I would think a huge paranormal population in Oklahoma would be noticed,” I said. I was intently aware that we were alone in a room with a four-poster with a mountain of pillows and a plush patchwork comforter. I couldn’t wait to crawl in. If only Drake was crawling in with me. . . .
“We have taken precautions to protect the community. The Invisi-shield prevents people from knowing that the town is here.” He looked at me, and reached out to brush his thumb over my jaw. “You are exhausted. Please. Go to bed.”
It should’ve been a strange thing to have a man I’d known a couple of hours touch me so intimately. But it felt natural, as though he’d done so a thousand times before. And yet, an electric thrill pulsed in my belly . . . and in parts farther south. I’d never experienced the dichotomy of being both comfortable and excited in the same moment. A moment caused by one of the hottest men I’d ever met.
I suddenly felt sleepy . . . so sleepy, in fact, that my eyes drooped and my body didn’t want to stay upright. “Whoa,” I said, swaying.
Drake put his arms around my shoulders and led me to the bed. He unfurled the covers, and I crawled into the space. And by crawled, I mean I fell facefirst into the soft sheets and rolled onto my back. Drake moved aside the three thousand pillows piled against the headboard and tucked a big fluffy one under my head.
“So tired,” I said. I could feel my brain shutting down. And my body felt like a bowl of fresh-cooked noodles.