“Careful is my middle name,” Janea said. “Of course, it’s from my real name and I never use that.”
“I just don’t see you as a Doris,” Barb admitted, smiling.
“Hush your mouth,” Janea replied, waving a finger at her. “I hate that name.”
“Do we go together or separate?” Donahue asked and then looked at Barbara’s expression. “We’re staying separate, obviously.”
“Pity,” Janea said. “Hey, if I go with Greg, there’ll be more room for the luggage!”
“How much luggage do you have?” Greg asked, worriedly.
“A lot,” Barb said, frowning.
“You’ve got a rentacar, right?” the agent asked. “Why don’t I see if I can check out a Bureau unmarked Expedition. More room for luggage, more room for us.”
“And you can drive?” Barbara asked, grinning.
“That, too,” Donahue admitted.
“We can do that,” Barb said. “I’m not sure how we get back.”
“We can fly out of Roanoke,” Janea replied. “You can fly home direct. We’ll drop the rentacar off before we go down.”
“Let’s do that,” Donahue insisted. “Among other things, it will give you a chance to catch up on your reading.”
“More reading?” Barbara said, smiling.
“You’re going to have to be able to discuss the collected works of K. Goldberg,” Donahue said.
“Who?”
“She’s a horror and mystery writer,” Donahue said, handing over a book with a dripping knife on the cover. “You’ll want to read at least one book of hers before the con. You can keep that one; get it signed if you wish.”
“Great,” Barb said. “More homework.”
Chapter Eight
I’m not too sure about this,” Barbara said as they pulled into the parking lot. Donahue had managed to wangle an unmarked Expedition after he saw how much luggage was “a lot” and the drive down had been uneventful. But as they pulled into the registration area of the hotel and Barb saw the con-goers unloading, she got a little nervous. “I haven’t read science fiction in years. The only fantasy I’ve read is Lord of the Rings. And I’m only half way through Goldberg’s book and it’s the first horror I’ve ever read. I usually read romance novels for heaven’s sake.”
“You’ll be fine,” Greg said. “We’ve got two rooms, a double and a king. I couldn’t get them adjacent but they’re on the same floor and wing. Obviously, you two get the double.”
“And you’ll be with me,” Janea said. “Other than… you know, how much trouble can you get into?” She had chosen to wear a pair of hip-hugger jeans, stilettos and a halter top for the drive down. As she put it: “Comfortable clothing.” Barbara looked at her for a moment and shook her head.
“A lot?” Barb said, chuckling.
“Not at this con.” Janea sighed. “This is a lit-geek con. Now, you go with me to DragonCon or Arisia and we’ll burn the hotel down. I’ve got some costumes that would probably fit you…”
“No way,” Barbara said. “I’m not wearing a chain-mail bikini.”
“Okay, okay,” Janea sighed. “Jeeze. But… how about a corset?”
The hotel for the con was an old resort north of Roanoke off of U.S. 221. Time and highways had passed it by and it had fallen into disrepair before being purchased by an enterprising Hindu family. They had slowly fixed it up and then offered it as a getaway for corporate functions. Together with the occasional small gathering like the convention, and some solid work, it had begun to be regain its former glory. It was set well back from the highway up a steep and winding road through leafless trees. The check-in was smooth and with the help of a luggage cart they got all their bags up to the rooms. Donahue, in contrast to the girls, had only brought two small carry-on type bags.
Once in the room Janea started pulling out outfits.
“What do you think of this one?” she asked, holding up a midriff top and a miniskirt.
“Well, it’s definitely you,” Barb said, shaking her head. “But we could, you know, wear the same clothes to go register.”
“What’s the fun in that?” Janea asked, opening up another bag. “Or this?” she added, holding up a corset and a long, matching skirt with a wide slit up both sides.
“What are you going to wear over the corset?” Barbara asked.
“Nothing, of course,” Janea said, frowning. “What should I wear?”
“Janea,” Barb said, gently. “It’s freezing.”
“You’ve got a point,” Janea admitted, digging in the clothes. “I’ve got the perfect outfit.”
The “perfect outfit” turned out to be another pair of hiphuggers, these with laces down the side that left large, triangular gaps, a bra and a see-through shirt. She threw a leather coat over the ensemble and then posed.
“What do you think?” she asked.
“I still think you’re going to freeze to death,” Barbara replied. She’d gotten into the spirit to the extent of changing from the skirt and blouse ensemble she’d worn down into a pair of relatively tight jeans, a blouse that showed a small amount of cleavage and one of her heavier “dressy” jackets.
“We’re gonna slay ’em,” Janea said, grinning. “But, really, I could loan you a corset. With that jacket over my green one, it would be really outstanding. All the guys would drool. They’re probably going to think we’re lesbians, anyway, and some guys really get off on-”
“Janea,” Barb said, tightly. “I’m not an acolyte of Freya. Try to remember that.”
“Oh,” Janea said, slightly abashed. “Sorry. Uhm… Greg’s probably wondering what took you so long, so let’s get going…”
When they got to Donahue’s room it took him a moment to answer the door.
“Sorry,” the agent said, waving them in. “I was checking my e-mail.”
“You get that much?” Barbara asked, stepping into the room cautiously. She had a vague feeling of uneasiness entering the room of a person, a male person, she wasn’t married to. Donahue hadn’t changed and except for opening up one bag to get out his laptop his bags were undisturbed. She mentally sighed at the amount of room he had compared to them; his room wasn’t crowded with luggage.
“I had a few,” Donahue admitted. “But I was replying to some and I called the lab. The moonstone was apparently part of a piece of silver jewelry. There were striations on the surface indicating that it had been set and traces of silver. It’s been sent on to the Special Circumstances forensics group to see what they can get off of it.”
“They’ll take it slow,” Janea foretold. “That’s a damned evil piece of rock. They’ll have to set up precautions to ensure the evil won’t spread or contaminate anything or anyone.”
“Well, it’s all we have so far,” Donahue said, shrugging. “That and the generic description of the perp. Have you two… felt anything?” he asked, uneasily.
“No,” Barbara replied, shaking her head. “Nothing.”
“Generally you won’t feel a necromancer,” Janea said. “Or so I’ve been told. Not unless he… It’s hard to explain. He doesn’t have to perform a rite but if he uses power you might sense it, Barb. And if he… sort of thinks about necromancy… if he starts to slip into the mental state where he’d be… stalking or hunting, he might give off a trace. But if he’s just… wandering around or gaming or something, we could walk right past him and not even notice.”