Defensive Magic: A Paranormal Urban Fantasy Tale (Lost Library Book 3) (3 page)

Lizzie bit her lip. “Anna’s your wife?”

As soon as the question left her lips, she knew that, of course, Anna was David’s wife. Anna, the sweet, fragile healer Lizzie had met during a brief, forced stay with the Idaho Pack, was Grant Clark’s daughter-in-law. Since the toga-wearing idiot in front of her was Clark’s son, even Lizzie’s tired and jet-lagged brain could make the connections.

With a quick bob of his head, David acknowledged that Anna was his wife.

“How is she?” John asked, his voice gentle.

“Recovering,” he replied tersely. “She had another miscarriage over the winter. Dad and I are worried…that maybe she’s…” He pressed his lips together and shook his head, not completing the thought.

Lizzie remembered a frail, worn young woman with fine-boned features. At the time, she’d thought Anna recently ill or generally in poor health.

After several minutes went by and David appeared to again be his more stoic self, Lizzie decided it was time to move the interview forward—the conversation was certainly no longer any kind of interrogation. “What was the item that allowed you to mask your scent?”

“A bean.”

“Huh?” Not her most articulate response. “A bean? I mean, how does that work?”

David shook his head. “I have no idea. Honestly. I was told to swallow it when I wanted my scent wiped and that it would last for at least two hours.”

After exchanging a quick glance with David, John burst out laughing.

“What?” Lizzie looked from John to David, who was grinning, and back again. “Am I missing something? Is there something terribly funny about a murderous wolf with scent-masking capabilities? Because that sounds deadly serious to me.”

She was starting to feel like an overprotective mama bear, which was ridiculous considering John’s abilities. No. She cocked her head, counting off all the reasons she was absolutely not being silly to worry. David was huge. And strong. And had access to magic that gave him an edge in a fight. And someone had acted behind the scenes to ensure he’d issue a challenge. After ticking those items off in her head, Lizzie decided she wasn’t being foolish. Much more likely, John had a screw loose, or no sense of self-preservation.

John’s laughter moved from deep belly laughs to little huffing chuckles. “Really? You don’t find that even a little funny? A magic bean?” When Lizzie rolled her eyes, he said, “We’re dealing with someone who has a sense of humor.”

“Good lord. That’s just ridiculous,” she scoffed. Then she narrowed her eyes as her few remaining fully functional brain cells kicked into overdrive. She should have held off on that beer. “Actually, it’s not ridiculous; it’s ingenious. They’ve created an item that can be warded but won’t be destroyed by a Lycan’s shift—an edible anchor for the ward.”

“Brilliant,” John agreed, but he was still smiling. He must have seen her disapproval, because he said, “Hey, you have to admit—it’s funny. The caster could have used a grain of rice, a kernel of corn, anything edible. A bean is an inspired choice.”

“There’s an evil genius who wants you dead and you decide to focus on his fabulous sense of humor,” she said, shaking her head in exasperation. “FYI, I’m going to keep sitting here and worrying myself sick over the wanting-you-dead part.”

John swallowed the last of his lingering amusement and sheepishly said, “Sorry.”

“And you—” Lizzie turned an accusatory look in David’s direction. “Weren’t you even a little curious as to why? I doubt their motivations were purely philanthropic. Who gave you the spelled bean? And what did they get out of it?”

“One of my pack members. He has some connections with the magical community in Idaho. I thought he was doing me a solid. Actually, I’m pretty sure he was; he’s a good guy. What do I really care about the rest? The risk to me seemed minimal.” He paused, a thoughtful look crossing his face. “I’m sure there are plenty of Lycan and other magic-users who would like to see the Texas Pack suffer. Texas is a growing force in North America, and some don’t like the direction you’re moving in.”

“Does that include you?” John asked.

Lizzie had the impression that David’s response was important, though John’s tone hadn’t changed at all when he’d posed the question.

“No. No, it doesn’t.”

David’s matter-of-fact response about how others perceived the Texas Pack was hard for her to swallow. That there were so many possibilities—so many people who might want to hurt John or the Pack—was a bigger issue than she was able to fathom in the wee hours.

John must have noticed that her level of distress had quadrupled in the span of seconds—probably his Lycan super-senses picking up some fear odor, with her luck—because he hustled David to the front door rather suddenly. She could hear the murmur of their voices as they spoke in the front hall, but she wasn’t able to focus on the individual words. She tried to hold her eyes open, and then she realized how silly that thought was. Sleep was a much more pleasant alternative than listening to the distressing thoughts racing through her head right now.

Lizzie woke when John gently shook her shoulder. David and John must have lingered in the foyer long enough for her to fall so deeply asleep she’d lost awareness of her surroundings. The last thing she remembered was resting her head on the table, cheek pillowed by her crossed arms, and the subdued noise of their voices in the background. She certainly didn’t remember falling asleep. As she raised her head from the table, her blurry gaze landed briefly on the slip of crumpled paper John had temporarily abandoned.

Leaning in to kiss her temple, he said, “We’ll talk about it tomorrow. You’re exhausted.”

“Yes.” It was all she could say, because anything more and she’d lose the battle with tears that the burn behind her eyes and pressure in her chest predicted. At some point earlier in the night, she’d come to the conclusion that the note originated from within the Pack. From a group of people that John held dearest and considered family. She suspected John had reached the same conclusion.
Dammit.
She hated crying.

Chapter 4

J
ohn’s temper was frayed, his mood declining in proportion to both his lack of sleep and the escalating risk to the Pack and Lizzie. It didn’t help that he’d left Lizzie alone, sleeping in bed this morning. He’d only been able to leave after making arrangements with his Uncle Logan to come and keep an eye on her. He knew she’d be upset when she woke up, but until he got a handle on the rapidly escalating situation within the Lycan community, she’d have to make a few compromises—or he’d go nuts.

Slowing his pulse, evening out his breathing, and generally maintaining a calm demeanor was taking a little more effort than usual. He gave the waitress a casually friendly smile, adding to the façade of calm. The young man sitting across the cafe table from him wasn’t helping his mood, since he was just another mess to be cleaned up, another problem for the Alpha to solve. But the last thing he needed was to appear anything less than completely in control of himself, the situation, and his breakfast companion. Especially since he was considering extending an invitation to David and Anna to join the Pack.

Other than exchanging cursory greetings, the two had eaten in silence. David finally flinched in their verbal game of chicken.

“So why am I here?”

John put the last bite of pancake in his mouth, then set his fork down with careful deliberation. After he swallowed and wiped his mouth, he said, “Do you still want a new start?” Seeing David’s confusion, he clarified, “In Texas.”

“If that’s an option,” David said. “I wasn’t aware that Texas would accept a petition from outside the Pack.”

John understood his hesitation and suspicion. Texas
didn’t
accept outside members into the Pack. He didn’t know of a pack in North America that did. They were a tight-knit group and adding strangers with different cultural backgrounds, coming from different pack structures, created conflict. But that was pretty damn close-minded. And as mobile as society had become, limiting inter-pack mobility seemed shortsighted at best. He feared it was much worse. That it created a too insular set of societies which failed to work together, making Lycan more vulnerable to other, unfriendly groups within the magic-using community. Like so many other aspects of Lycan society, it was past time for a change.

“I’m telling you it’s an option. Do you have interest?” If there was any doubt in David’s mind about joining the Texas Pack, then he wasn’t the right candidate. The first transfer between Packs needed to go smoothly. In many ways, David was an ideal candidate—politically connected, young, and ambitious, but from a moderate pack, respectful of authority, and a generally decent guy. He was also highly motivated.

Without hesitation and with a conviction that rang in his voice, David said, “Yes.”

“Then I need you to do two things for me.”

Clearly steeling himself for an insurmountable task, David’s face tensed.

“Does your father know about the scent voiding ward?”

David shook his head. John had suspected as much.

“Go home and update your father on the scent voiding ward. He needs to be made aware so he can update his security. With his permission, I want you to investigate the origin of the ward. Where did your friend get it? Who created it? Anything you can discover.”

David took a visibly deep breath. “And?”

“Get Clark’s approval. Without it, no petition will be accepted.”

Obtaining Grant’s approval would be a significant hurdle. David was Grant’s only son. Relinquishing his only child, his heir, to another pack might be perceived as weak—and Grant was unlikely to sanction any action that made him lose credibility in the Lycan community. But there was always a chance. Just maybe Grant was ready to take a step into the current century.

“Do you agree to those terms?” John asked.

“I do.” Again, no hesitation. “I’ll catch the earliest flight back.”

John gave him a hard look. “And you’ll update me once you’ve spoken with your father.”

Nodding, David added, “And as soon as I have any additional information about the ward.”

That was it. There was no other reason for them to linger. John threw a few bills on the table and moved to get up. But he had one last thought—spurred by curiosity rather than concern. He hesitated, then asked, “Your wife, Anna? She—” Before he could say “approves” or “knows”—hell, he wasn’t sure what he was going to say—David nodded.

“She’s on board with a move.”

John liked to think he was an open-minded guy. But if he was honest with himself, he would never have thought to ask after the opinion of David’s mate before he met Lizzie. He smiled—on the inside, at least. Then John headed out to his truck without another word.

Chapter 5

L
izzie pasted a smile on her face. Logan was the only member of John’s family that she’d met. She’d make every effort to like him and she’d try to make a good impression. Really. Her smile disappeared as she snorted. Just a tad difficult to be upbeat, friendly, and on her best company manners when the man had clearly been dragged, unwillingly, from his bed to babysit her. And had glared at her for the duration of the breakfast they had shared. She looked down at the soapy dishes she was absentmindedly washing and tried again to work up to a reasonable facsimile of a smile.

“Are you almost done?” Logan asked.

Dammit. He was still drinking coffee at the breakfast table. Surely he didn’t want to speak with her. They’d barely managed a civil breakfast.

“Almost,” she said to the suds.

If he wanted her to be faster, he could have helped. She frowned at the uncharitable thought. No. She stood up a little taller. She hadn’t realized how small she’d made herself, her shoulders hunched and her back slumped. She should start as she meant to go on—honestly and uncowed. Fueled by her annoyance, she turned her full attention to Logan. “Look—I know you’re unhappy about being dragged out of bed so early. I didn’t ask John for a babysitter, and I’m sure I don’t need one.”

And at that, Logan laughed. A snort of disbelief rather than amusement. “You’re kidding. Of course you need protection. You’re human. Well, mostly human.” He paused, inspecting her. “And I have no problem getting up in the middle of the night—or any other time—to help my nephew. It’s you I have a problem with.”

Radical honesty or just aggressive posturing, either way he was an ass. How did John hold so much affection for this old bastard? Her blood was boiling, and she’d been putting up with his crap all morning. “Tell it like it is, you grumpy old wolf. What
exactly
have I done to piss you off so much?”

Oh shit.
She did
not
just call him a grumpy old wolf.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
Her anger deflated rapidly in the face of even greater embarrassment.

Before she recovered from her mortification, Logan was laughing. His face lightened and his eyes wrinkled at the corners in a way that made him look friendly and approachable.
Right.
She knew what a lie
that
was. Hopefully, he was too entertained laughing at her to notice the wide-eyed, appalled look on her face. She was a terrible poker player, as her friends and family were quick to tell her. She tried to look nonchalant, like she called people out on their rudeness all the time.

From what she understood, Logan had raised John and was more father than uncle. Logan was an incredibly important part of John’s life. She needed to develop some kind of functional relationship with this man. Gritting her teeth in frustration, she sat back down at the kitchen table.

When he finally spoke, his tone was impatient. “You want to know why I’m not thrilled about your relationship with my nephew? If you don’t know the answer to that…” He let the sentence hang, a variety of failings implied by his silence.

Hmm. She had brought her own dangerous baggage to her relationship with John, but that wasn’t a factor in her life over which she had much control. And she hadn’t even been John’s mate when she decided to leave for Prague and study at the library with Harrington. She sighed. Of course, Logan had thought she
was
John’s mate at that time. She could barely keep all the facts of her whirlwind romance with John straight. She needed to move the conversation in a different direction.