Lost Library: An Urban Fantasy Romance (14 page)

“Beautiful, aren’t they?” Lizzie startled as a woman approached her from the first floor. “I apologize. I didn’t mean to frighten you. I’m Anna, the pack’s healer.” Anna smiled at
Lizzie but didn’t extend her hand.

“Hi, Anna.
Nice to meet you. I’m Lizzie…”
—the kidnap victim.
Thankfully Lizzie stopped herself from completing the automatic response. Lizzie was apparently progressing from polite responses under stress, to polite and snarky responses under stress. But Anna didn’t look like she’d get the joke. She had soft, serious brown eyes. Her dark blond hair was tidy and pinned up in a way that emphasized her delicate features. Anna looked sad and a little lost. Lizzie guessed humor would be out of place.

“I was
coming up to invite you to have tea or coffee with me in the kitchen. It’s still another few hours until dinner, and I thought you’d like a snack.” Anna waited patiently for Lizzie’s response. 

“That would be excellent, thank you.”

Seated in the kitchen drinking tea, Lizzie didn’t waste any time. “Do you know why I’m here? Or if they plan to let me go soon?”
Or at all?
But that wasn’t the kind of question that was likely to be answered.

“I know tha
t Grant, Grant Clark the Idaho Pack Alpha, will probably speak with you soon,” answered Anna. At least she got a name from Anna. And Anna appeared to be on a first name basis with the head honcho.

Maybe a different tactic.
“What exactly is a healer for the pack? That’s what you do, right?”

“Right now, I’m here to help take care of you. To make sure you’re comfortable and have everything you need while you stay here.”
Gaaah. Really?
Anna had answered the question but provided no real information.

“Do healers have special skills?”
Last try.

Anna smiled brightly. “My magic makes it easier for me to see what’s making a person sick or how they are injured. Just like your magic helps you to read and unlock the spell wound together with a record book.”

Bingo!
If she was careful and didn’t mention her kidnap situation, she might get a little general information about magic. Anything would be more than she currently knew.

Anna
continued, unprompted. “Don’t you have healers where you live?”

Lizzie replied ambiguously, worried she might stem the flow of information. “I’ve never met a healer in person before.”

“It’s true, we’re not very common, much like Record Keepers.” Anna looked a little sad again.

Was that why these
Lycan wanted her? She was like a rare coin, and therefore more valuable for her uniqueness? Just great. She couldn’t make herself less unique, and if she let them know how little magic she could actually do, it might make them angry.

“Were your family also healers?”
Lizzie asked. She didn’t want the trickle of information to stop now.

“Most were not. Like
Record Keepers, the talent runs in the family. But only a few receive the gift. My grandmother and a distant cousin were the only ones, other than myself. Is it the same in your family?”

Oh, no.
Her parents. Her Aunt Mel and Uncle Vince, her cousins.
What if other Lycan thought they were magical rarities? Her poor, average, boring, absolutely lovely family could be dragged into this mess. She had to get away, if only to warn her family. A niggling thought popped up. What if someone was holding out on her? What if one of her family knew exactly what she was? Knew about Lycan and magic? Lizzie was doubtful, but it was possible. That was a question for another day.

“I’m the only one in my family.” Lizzie infused this statement with as much sincerity as she could while still maintaining a casual tone.

Changing the direction of the conversation quickly, Lizzie asked, “Is there some way you can identify me? I can’t immediately tell you’re a healer.” If she or her family shined like a light in the dark, better to find that out now.

“If I try to read your aura, the magic that surrounds you looks a li
ttle like our last Record Keeper, but different. I wouldn’t think you’d be able to read auras. Mary—she was our last Record Keeper—she couldn’t. I know she could do a lot of other things, besides reading our book. But I’m not sure what’s usual for a Record Keeper.” Anna’s pretty face pulled into a frown.

“
Like what other things?” Lizzie knew as soon as she asked she had moved into questionable territory.

Anna was shaking her head no, and probably wondering if she had already said something she shouldn’t have. Just as Lizzie was seeing this window of opportunity close and wondering if she could salvage the conversation, she heard the front door open.

A few seconds later, a man in his early 50s, slight graying at the temples of his dark hair, walked into the kitchen. Some people aren’t big in stature, but they have a presence that creates the illusion of size. He had an air of competence and confidence, or just ego, Lizzie wasn’t sure. But Grant Clark (she assumed this was he) had that presence, in addition to a physical size and strength that were noticeable. A man like Clark would dominate most conversations, probably most relationships, Lizzie would guess. When she saw Clark, Lizzie immediately linked Anna’s sad and subdued demeanor to this man’s overwhelming personality.

But apparently she was wrong. Clark’s eyes softened as he made eye contact with Anna and he offered her a smile. “How are you today, Anna? Are you feeling well?”

Anna smiled back as she nodded a yes. Her smile reached her eyes and brightened her whole face. From her reaction, Lizzie guessed Anna liked and trusted this man.

“Hi, Papa.
I wasn’t sure if you’d come by today. Anthony told me to expect you sometime in the next few days, but wasn’t specific. You know how he is. The fewer details, the better.” Anna scrunched up her nose in mild annoyance.

“Where is my son? I expected to find him here, with you.” Lizzie detected mild disapproval in his tone. Before Anna could respond, Clark turned to Lizzie.
“My apologies. Lizzie Smith?” Clark reached out his hand in greeting.

Lizzie extended her own hand forward. Clark had a firm grip but not overpowering. Lizzie bit her tongue to stop the polite greeting that was burbling
up—it
wasn’t
nice to meet him and darned if she’d say it was. Instead, she said, “You must be Grant Clark.”

“I am,” he replied. “You and I are overdue for a talk. Come with me into the study. We can speak privately there.” He turned to Anna
. “Do you mind bringing us a pot of coffee, Anna?” When Anna smiled her assent, he turned and ushered Lizzie through the kitchen entrance.

Seated in the study with a coffee tray between them and the door firmly shut, Clark waved at the tray. “Do you mind helping yourself?” Without waiting for her nod, he moved about the room flicking a switch at the desk, closing the blinds, then returning to his seat. “This room is soundproofed against the casual eavesdropper, but I’ve also got a device running through the walls that should make it difficult for anyone more determined.” He paused, tapping the ring finger on his left hand against his desk. “This conversation is between the two of us.”

“Then tell me why I’m here
,” Lizzie said.

“You’re here because unaffiliated
Record Keepers are not common; you’re a commodity,” he stated, baldly. “Once given the opportunity to investigate Idaho, we had hoped you would join us. But we couldn’t make the argument in Texas and needed a few days to speak openly with you. To negotiate, or even bribe.” His eyes met hers calmly. Obviously, he was leaving some parts out.

“What’s changed?
Why this conversation?”

“Our intel was incomplete. Whatever you may think of Idaho at this point, we’re not such fools as to forcibly remove the Texas
Alpha’s lover directly from his territory. That was a mistake.” Clark’s eyes narrowed and his nostrils flared.

Dang it! Dogs smell fea
r—do wolves smell lies?
Lizzie’s brain swirled—same emotion, different cause. “I’m surprised John told you we’re lovers.” She
was
surprised, so no dishonesty was necessary. She hoped her pores or whatever created scent confirmed her statement.
Shit.
Was she supposed to smell like John? She thought quickly—truthful but not expansive. “We’ve been on-again-off-again, so hard to know what his reaction will be…but I suspect you already know.”

Clark smiled but didn’t address her last comment.

Clark said, “I’m surprised you haven’t formalized the connection and at least joined the Texas Pack. You both would have saved a lot of trouble if you had. You’ve placed me in a very awkward position.”

The look Clark sent her way reminded her of the disappointed look her father hadn’t given
her since her teen years. She wasn’t a naughty child, but apparently Clark thought differently.

“I am not alone in this venture, which is why we’re having this very frank and very discreet conversation.” At this point Clark glanced at his watch. “Based on some impressions I may have
given Braxton, I expect him and a human friend to make an attempt to…ah, liberate you shortly. Likely late in the night. I have an agreement with the Austrians, and they refuse to see the wisdom in returning you. As a result, I am obligated to guard against attempts to recover you. However, once you’re out of our care, my commitment to the other pack ends. I have no obligation to retrieve you.”

“Are you saying you made sure Braxton, John, would come get me? And you can’t let me escape, but you hope I do?” Lizzie looked only a little bewildered.
Stupid wolfy politics.
She deserved a truly exceptional dessert once this was over, maybe blackberry cobbler with lots of creamy vanilla ice cream or chocolate fudge. And some stress-free, uninterrupted sleep. These guys were ridiculous.

“That is exactly right, M
s. Smith. Let’s discuss how best to ensure that result.”

Lizzie felt like a character in a farce. She was a kidnap victim
—but not really, because her kidnappers wanted her gone. She had some woo woo power—but not really, because she couldn’t make it work. She had a werewolf lover—but not really, because they’d never actually had sex.

All of these thoughts raced through Lizzie’s head, pulling her toward complete hysteria.
Or hilarity. It depended on the moment. She vacillated between the two. She was tucked in her bed, waiting for a signal—exactly what she didn’t know—that her rescue attempt was in progress.

She had wanted to sneak out and hide in one of the outbuildings, but Clark had claimed the sentries
would quickly recognize her scent as it pooled in her hiding spot. After that misstep, Clark gave Lizzie a crash course on how a Lycan’s wolf nose worked, as well as an odd look or two over the fact she didn’t already know this. In wolf form, Lycan apparently had extremely keen noses. So she had to wait in the one place both the good and bad guys would expect her to be in the middle of the night—in bed.

Several
hours later, Lizzie was sound asleep. A girl can only quake in anticipation for so long—then she gets sleepy and dozes off. At least, that had been her last thought before drifting to sleep around 2:00 a.m. Lizzie was sound enough asleep that a hand covering her mouth was her first indication someone had entered the room. Her heart stopped, stuttered, and then raced, before she heard John’s whisper right next to her ear, “Quiet, it’s John.” So close to her ear, in fact, that she could feel the warm exhalation of his breath.

Apparently,
her response to shock had greatly improved over the last several days. She went from terrified to tingly in moments. It wasn’t
her
fault she was having indecent thoughts. He was the one running around telling people they were screwing each other’s brains out.

About this time, John
must have realized she was completely still, and quietly waiting. He slowly removed his hand. She pulled his head down to speak softly in his ear, “Clark and several bodyguards are away, returning at daylight. There are five Lycan and three humans remaining.” Her voice was calm and certain.

At John’s acknowledgment, she continued. “The humans are unarmed and won’t leave their rooms unless there’s a lot of noise.
Noncombatants?” The word felt odd, but she was repeating what Clark had told her. John nodded his understanding in response to her questioning tone. “Two Lycan on exterior patrol, two quartered on the first floor, northeast corner, and one on the second floor, southwest corner. If we’re quiet, the second floor Lycan shouldn’t leave his room.”

“Follow me closely. If there’s a fight, then hide,” he whispered close to her ear. His breath was a small puff against her skin.

And then
, he stripped.

Seriously?
Lizzie told herself he was really fast. That’s why she didn’t have time to turn her back, or even look the other way. Uh-huh. That was it. Before Lizzie could think
what a completely fine ass
, John had disappeared—and in his place, a wolf. A HUGE wolf. Like—HUGE. Wolves were about the size of a Labrador, not a mastiff…or a large man. Up close and personal, she could see her earlier observation, that the sentry wolves were basically the size of full-grown men, was accurate. Was this some weird magical law of biology or chemistry? Conservation of mass? Okay, science wasn’t her thing, but really—that was a big wolf.