Beneath An Ivy Moon (Legacy Of Magick Series, Book 4) (16 page)

“No, Bran and I don’t. But I honestly believe that
fear
is what is driving your twin sister’s behavior.”

It suddenly, horribly made sense. I put my head in my hands, and my thoughts raced.
No wonder she had refused to come home when we rebound the Blood Moon Grimoire. She was afraid to be around any sort of magick! This explained why she cut me off so quickly whenever I tried to contact her on the astral plane. Why she barely spoke to Autumn, or even to Cypress…

I rubbed my forehead. “What do we do now?”

“I’m sorry that you’re upset. But I think there’s something else you should know.” Lexie opened a drawer, pulled out a couple of plastic bowls and large orange spoon. She sat Morgan on the floor and he began to play.

“Spoon!” Morgan waved it happily in the air.

Lexie sat down at the table and picked up one of my hands. “Listen to me.”

I squeezed her hand back. “I’m listening.”

“Bran has discreetly been keeping tabs on Holly while she’s been in Kansas City,” Lexie said.

I dropped her hand and did a double take. “Huh?”

“There is a friend of the family, with a connection to the local high council who teaches on Holly’s campus. She’s befriended Holly and has been keeping an eye on her for the past two years.”

“Wait, what?” I shook my head. “Are we talking, like a covert type of magickal surveillance being done on my sister?”

“That’s one way to think of it,” Lexie said.

I opened my mouth, tried to find the words. And failed.

Lexie tilted her head, her expression serious. “Did you think you were the only one who was upset and worried about Holly?”

The expression on Lexie’s face made me feel slightly embarrassed. “Who’s been watching over Holly?” I asked. “Do I know them?”

Lexie flipped her hair over her shoulder. “You do. It’s Oliver Jacob’s daughter, Kara.”

I thought back, considering the family connections. Oliver Jacob’s son, Kyle, was married to Lexie’s cousin, Shannon. “Kyle told me his sister was married and living in Kansas…”
Kansas. As in Kansas City,
I realized.

“Actually Kara is divorced. She uses her married name now, which is White,” Lexie said. “Kara is also a High Priestess of her own coven.”

“Witches in Kansas, who knew?” I said, trying to make a joke.

Lexie gave me a withering look. “You know better than anyone that Witches are everywhere,” she said. “Not only the William’s Ford families— there are plenty of modern day descendants from the earliest lines, all over the country.

“I remember,” I said to Lexie. “Bran taught me.”

My phone rang and I pulled it out of my pocket and checked the read out. I didn’t recognize the number but I suddenly knew who it was anyway.
Speaking of descendants from the earliest lines...
I hit the button. “Bishop’s mortuary, you stab ‘em— we slab ‘em,” I said sweetly in the phone.

It was silent on the other end for a solid three seconds.

“Hello Nathan,” I said patiently.

“Ivy?”

“Yes?”

“How’d you know it was me?” he said.

“Intuitive, remember?”

“Right,” Nathan said, and for once it didn’t sound condescending. “That’s one of the reasons I was calling. I was wondering if you’d like to help me with my research on the history of the campus’ archeological site, today.”

I almost dropped my phone in surprise. “You want me to work
with
you?”

“I think it’s time to put our heads together,” Nathan said. “Pool our resources and talents, so to speak.”

“As in two witchy heads are better than one?” I said.

“Exactly,” Nathan said. “Why don’t you meet me at the University library later this morning. Around 10:30?”

I eyeballed the clock, I had plenty of time to get ready. “Bran has all of my research here at the manor. He made extra copies. I can bring a set along,” I offered.

“Perfect, see you then,” Nathan said.

I said goodbye and disconnected the call. I glanced up to see Lexie smirking at me. “What?”

“Nathan Pogue? That’s the guy from the East Coast?” Lexie said over Morgan, who’d started to sing and beat the hell out of plastic bowls on the floor.

“Yeah.”

“Bran said that Pogue was awfully worked up the other night when he burst into the manor looking for you.”

“Oh please.” I rolled my eyes. “He doesn’t even like me.” I took another sip from my soda and considered. “So back to Holly,” I said, deliberately switching the subject.

Lexie wasn’t fooled. She reached across the table and gave my hand another quick squeeze. “What else did you want to know?”

“Tell me more about Kara.”

“Kara Jacobs-White is an English professor, and an advisor for the honor society. She keeps a low profile due to her position at the university. They met when Holly joined the honors program, and Kara has been quietly watching over her ever since.”

I sat there, mulling it over. “So Holly has no clue that Kara is actually a Witch, a Priestess,
and
the daughter of a member of our high council?”

“Correct,” Lexie said over the racket Morgan was making.

Bran walked into the kitchen. He was wearing old jean shorts and a t-shirt— his yard-work clothes. My brother came directly over and pulled out the chair next to Lexie. “Lexie told you about Holly calling last night.” It was a statement, not a question.

“She also filled me in on Kara Jacobs,” I said.

“Kara White,” Lexie corrected me.

Morgan stopped beating on the bowls and toddled over to my chair. “My Ivy,” he said, holding up his arms.

“Here you go.” I scooped Morgan up and settled him on my lap.

Bran smiled. “He loves you so much,” he said of Morgan.

“It’s mutual.” I pressed a kiss to my nephew’s red curls.
Curls like Holly’s,
I realized, and to my surprise, had to work not to cry. “Bran, I wish you would have told me that you were keeping tabs on Holly all this time.”

“It was best to keep it as quiet as possible.” Bran folded his arms on the table. “Only Oliver, Lexie and I have known. That is, up until today.”

I swiped a finger across my heart in an X. “I won’t betray your confidence.”

Bran reached across the table and squeezed my hand as Lexie had done earlier. “We’ll get her back, Ivy. Someday, Holly will come home to us.”

***

At 10: 25 I strolled into the campus library, ready to go. Fall was definitely in the air, and in deference to the cooling temperatures I’d worn black jeans, an acid washed gray t-shirt with the phases of the moon printed on it, and topped everything off with a soft and slouchy burgundy cardigan.

I hitched both my messenger bag and camera bag higher on my shoulder and scanned the library. I found Nathan sitting close to the reference desk. He had several books open on the table. He was working on his laptop, and of course he looked amazing.
Damn it.
A faded denim jacket was unbuttoned over a grey shirt and as I watched, he drug a hand through his hair. He scowled at the screen and leaned back down over the books again.

Yup,
the scowl worked on him.
I straightened my shoulders and reminded myself that I wasn’t interested in him.
Nope. Not at all. He’s not even my type.
And I managed to maintain that thought until he lifted his head, focused on me, and corners of his mouth curled up.

I don’t think I’d ever seen him almost-smile before. He made a come ahead gesture and I walked across the library and pulled out the chair next to him. “Morning,” I said, setting my messenger bag on the table.

Nathan raised his eyebrows at my bags. “Hi Ivy,” he said after a pause.

“Do you want to get it out of your system,” I said, anticipating him, “and make an opening snide comment about my outfit or accessories?”

He cleared his throat against a laugh. “No.”

I narrowed my eyes at him. “You’re sure?”

“Yes,” he said, and maintained a straight face.

“Alright then,” I said, and sat down. “Let’s get to work.”

We dove into the books Bran had secured for him. After an hour or so I started to get twitchy. While Nathan poured over the land deeds, surveyor’s maps, and history of the area’s surrounding homes and farms, I went through the history of the founders of the University. I dutifully took notes, but was frustrated as what I found was only a slightly more detailed version of the history that Cypress and I had found on the internet.

I propped my elbows on the table and dropped my chin in my hands. “This is getting us nowhere.”

Nathan leaned back in his chair and stretched. “Well, we did learn more about Victoria Crowly. She was very devoted to her faith.”

“Yeah,” I said, “as in apparently she lost a lot of students trying to convert them to her personal brand of religion.” I reached for a book and flipped through the pages. “According to this, her husband George had to use his own personal fortune to keep the school from going under when she drove away students with all her Presbyterian ‘devotion’.”

Nathan rubbed a hand across his chin. “Sounds like she was recruiting.”

“More like proselytizing.”

Nathan smirked at me. “That was a fast growing branch of Protestant-ism in the 1800s. I don’t imagine
that
information about her losing students is in any of the school’s literature about the history of their founder.”

“No.” I shook my head. “It’s all along the lines of ‘this brave woman who began a school and a college for young women.’ Blah, blah, blah.”

“The first west of the Mississippi.” Nathan chimed in.

“You know, the church that runs right along the boundaries of the University, is
The First Presbyterian
church.”

Nathan started to rifle through some of the surveyor’s maps on the table. He pulled one out and considered. “And according to this old map of the grounds from 1900, the cemeteries you and Cypress investigated the other night are listed as belonging to the neighboring First Presbyterian Church.” He tapped the map. “I wonder if they bought the land or if it was bequeathed to them?”

I walked around the table to study the map. “You think maybe the Crowly’s left them the land?” I said. “It would make sense. Victoria was... let’s say
extremely
devoted to her faith, and she had money and pull in the community. I’d check in to that.”

Nathan shifted to his laptop and began an internet search. “Hey, your family was a founding family, right?”

“They were.”

“Would you happen to know what other older churches are in town?”

“Sure, there’s Lutheran and Catholic churches, besides the Presbyterian one right outside of campus. I’m pretty sure the Catholic one is the oldest though.”

“Weren’t most of the girls, the students at Victoria’s school, Catholic?” Nathan asked.

“Probably,” I said, leaning a hip against the table. “William’s Ford was founded by Spanish and French Traders, most of those were Catholic. It’s a safe bet that many of the students were.” I wiggled my eyebrows. “But not all of the founding families were Christian, you know.”

Nathan actually chuckled. “The Bishops and other magickal families blended in their communities very successfully.”

“They kept a low profile, back in the day.”

“Unlike their modern descendants.”

I glanced up at the big clock on the wall. “Wow, you lasted longer than I expected.” I crossed my arms over my chest. “Almost ninety minutes before there was a sarcastic comment.”

“No.” Nathan stood up. “I wasn’t taking a shot at you. I only meant that your family is very open about their faith. They own a metaphysical shop after all.”

I stared at him for a moment. He seemed earnest, and I decided to let that pass. “I’m going to follow my gut, go nose around the stacks and see if it will lead me to any different information.”

Nathan pointed to the short stack of books I still had to go through. “Bran left us quite a few. I wouldn’t give up yet.”

“Ever heard of intuitive versus analytical thinking?” When Nathan stared at me I continued. “Analytical thinking is like a hyper focus on one thing at a time, with no emotion. It may be great for analysis and explaining things to students— but it’s one dimensional. On the other hand, intuitive thinking considers
many
things at once, focuses on the bigger picture, and is heart centered.”

Nathan studied me for a moment. “You keep on surprising me, Ivy.”

I sighed. “I don’t know why. I’m an intuitive. I act on hunches even if there is no logical explanation for them. It works for me and I follow my gut.”

“Well, you tackle the intuitive end of things and I’ll focus on the analytical.” Nathan nodded and returned to his research on the land around the campus.

I followed my instincts and started to roam though the local history section of the reference department. Wandering slowly, I let myself tune into the vibe. I soon found myself sitting on the floor looking at a row of books on the bottom shelf. My face felt warm and my heart rate picked up, a sure sign for me that I was onto something.

I ran my fingers across the spines of the reference books, and one fell over. I reached out for it, and found that another book had fallen behind the row. I fished it out and checked the cover.
Life at Crowly Hall
. I flipped it open saw that the book I held in my hands was a reprint from 1940. The original printing date was listed as 1915.

“Hello there,” I murmured.

The book was a collection of old journal entries and photographs from the early 1900s. There were architectural drawings of the older buildings on campus, a few old black and white photos of them under construction, and a diagram of the layout of the campus grounds in its earliest stages. I smiled over an old photo of Crowly Hall dated 1912.

I flipped through the book and stopped when I came across a chapter featuring journal entries of a young student of Victoria’s. The chapter was set up to provide little anecdotes designed to illustrate the sterling character of Victoria Crowly. Presenting how she had molded these young women into proper, well educated women of society. I rolled my eyes at the phrasing and kept reading.