Lost Library: An Urban Fantasy Romance (26 page)

John interrupted her
. “Dowsing?”

“Locating water, ore, gemstones, basically anything that’s buried,”
Sarah replied.

“And when you say women are better at language?” Max asked.

“Right. Your pack uses Record Keepers?” At John’s nod, she said, “That’s why they’re always women. Translating, reading magical texts, drafting written spells, these are all things women tend to be better at. Of course, we all vary as individuals. I could never be a Record Keeper. It’s quite difficult for me to read magical texts, and sometimes the spells don’t cooperate. I can’t write magically at all.”

Max looked thoughtful. “Wards are your specialty?” When she nodded, he said, “I bet you’re quite good.”

She blushed slightly in response, not denying it. “I studied architecture. That’s been helpful. But I do have a natural talent for designing wards.”

John looked thoughtful. Catching the look, Max turned to Sarah.

“If we pinpoint a location, could you study Worth’s plans? Maybe give us some helpful tips on entry?” 

“I will certainly do my best. But it would be better if I could see the building. Warding is visible to other spell casters if they know how to look.”

Max turned on his most charming smile, the one that made John want to thump him upside the head, and said, “Sarah, you’re a peach. We would love to have your help. Maybe if you speak with Harrington yourself, he’d be more likely to approve?”

“I’ve got
four brothers, Max Thorton. Your charm won’t work on me. But unlike a feckless charmer, fieldwork is irresistible.” She winked at Max. “I’ll make the request.”

Sarah stood up to leave. “I’ll think
about what else would be helpful and either brief you on the way or before you leave.”

John and Max both stood and shook her hand.

John said, “Our thanks to you. I’m sure we’ll have more questions, but you’ve given us a good start. Oh—one last thing. Since you’ve seen Worth’s file, does IPPC know what his magical expertise is? You said every spell caster has strengths, or a natural talent, and weaknesses. We can assume he’s not good with language, since that’s the one trait his victims share. But, his strengths?”

“I’m not sure. IPPC doesn’t
have information on his talent,” she said, regretfully. “He’s apparently kept a low profile, magically speaking.”

“Thanks again, Sarah.” Max shut the door behind her as she left
, then propped himself up on the barstool.

John
returned to the sofa and leaned his head back against the wall behind it. Eyes closed, he said, “He’s a loose cannon. He may kill all of the hostages if cornered, for all we know.” He was exhausted. He really needed some decent sleep, as unlikely as that was until Lizzie was recovered.

“Agreed.
We need to get in quietly, eliminate the threat, and get the hostages out. We certainly found a gem in Sarah. I need to speak with Harrington and see what other resources he may be willing to spare. Or if they’re going to make the call to officially act against Worth.”

John
opened his eyes and sat up straighter, stretching. “Doubtful. Field efforts seem to be focused on intelligence gathering only. And the agency isn’t close to going live soon. Until they formalize their authority with all of the local packs and the agency is formed, jurisdiction is questionable.”

Max pointed out the gap in John’s reasoning. “
The focus of the agency seems to be broadening to include the entire magic-using community, not just the local packs. It could be a
very
long time before cooperation reaches a level that allows the agency to become a fact.”

“It’s a worthy goal. Learning about spell casters makes me wonder who else is out there, what other threats to the pack exist.
” John thought of Lizzie, her pale skin, dark curls, and laughing smile. “Meeting Lizzie…It’s clear that cooperation between the packs has to become a priority. Even between other magical groups.”

John
laughed, remembering a conversation he’d had with the woman who was pushing her way into his heart. “Lizzie asked me about vampires and demons. I basically laughed it off. Hell, for all I know, there
are
vampires and demons. And they might even live next door to me.” He looked up at Max. “Or you.”

Max shook his head. “Unlike your anti-social ass, I know my neighbors. Not vampires or demons.” He stood up and started for the door. “Go to bed. Get some sleep. I’ll touch base with Harrington to see where his people are on the Prague
research. If there’s anything useful, I’ll come get you.”

As John fell asleep, his nose filled with the scent of Lizzie
—as if she were lying next to him.

After she was delivered back to her
room by her escort, Lizzie counted to thirty and then headed out her door to Pilar’s room. Pilar was her best source for information, and her only hope to fake her way through her first work session. She was supposed to start early the next morning.

As she arrived, she saw
Pilar was leaving, escorted by the same Stooge who had brought her to Worth. On seeing her, Pilar mouthed, “Tonight.”

Lizzie nodded and returned calmly to her room…where she then tried her damnedest not to bang her head against the wall.
Her thought was, if she was concussed, this whole situation would look so much better.
Right?
And if not, she’d have the satisfaction of a completely violent and senseless act.
Um, no. Bad plan.

Instead, she mentally catalogued
the information she had gathered. That took about three minutes. Then she unpacked her bags. That was about ten, because she unpacked very slowly. Nap? She estimated dinner would be served in a few hours. So she decided to sleep while she could. She’d found one aspect of her adventures so far had been annoyingly consistent. Opportunities for sleep were inconsistent and unpredictable. As soon as Lizzie laid her head down, she was out.

Lizzie woke with a start. Her heart was beating rapidly, her breath
coming in short pants, and her hands slick with sweat. She clutched the bedcovers in her hands. She didn’t remember crawling under the covers. As she tried to remember what could possibly have put her in such a panic, she heard a tap on the door. Stumbling out of bed, she straightened her shirt, rubbed her face, and then ran a hand through her rumpled curls. By the time she reached the door, she was almost awake.

Heike waited on the other side of the door.
She gave Lizzie a quick look up, then down. Her face radiated disapproval at Lizzie’s sleep-mussed state.

“Dinner is ready. They’ve moved our dining area to the spare room on this floor. I knocked earlier
, but you didn’t answer.” Information imparted, Heike turned on her heel and returned to her room.

“Thanks,” she called to Heike’s back.

Lizzie made her way down the hall to the bathroom. Only as she was walking down the hall back to her room did her sleep-heavy brain clear enough for her to remember what had disturbed her slumber. A wash of dread went through her body. She wasn’t sure if her memory had left out pieces or if her nightmare had been a jumble of images. A series of disconnected images flashed through her mind. Her mother dead. Her father crying next to her body. Worth, solemnly clasping her father’s hand and offering condolences.

It took Lizzie several minutes before she realized
that she was standing in the hall next to her bedroom door with tears streaming down her face.

By the time Pilar knocked quietly on Lizzie’s door, it was after 11:00 p.m. Lizzie had eaten and showered. Everything was better after a shower, and the bathroom was divine, Lizzie rationalized. It had also killed a little time. Even so, she still waited several hours before hearing the knock on her door. Fear of unpleasant dreams had kept her awake. So when Pilar knocked, Lizzie hopped right out of bed and let her in.

Lizzie looked at Pilar’s sad, but sympathetic eyes, and she reached out and hugged her close. Patting her one last time on the back, she pulled Pilar into her room.

“I’m so glad to see you.”

Pilar smiled. “I can see that.”

“I had terrible dreams. Nightmares about…well, about nightmare
-type things.” Just in time, Lizzie realized mentioning her dream would be terribly difficult for Pilar to hear. Her daughter was in just as much danger, if not more, than Lizzie’s parents.

Pilar’s
mouth turned down in a moue of distaste. “I’m not surprised. You really should ward the room. You’ll sleep better, I’m sure.”

Perfect
segue… “About that. Can we go to your room?”

Once they were both situated i
n Pilar’s room, Lizzie continued. “I don’t know how. To create a ward. To read a spelled book. None of it.”

She looked at
Pilar, waiting for she knew not what kind of response.

Pilar
simply said, “Ah.” Then she stopped and looked at Lizzie for what seemed like a very long time.

“I‘m sorry.
I should…” Lizzie began to excuse herself.

“
Shhh.” Pilar hushed her and kept staring. Lizzie found it unnerving. Like she was about to be told, “you’d look so much better if you straightened your hair and lost ten pounds.”

Not the response she expected, but better than
being kicked out of Pilar’s room. Another minute or two went by. Lizzie started to rock onto her heels and back to the balls of her feet.

Pilar
frowned at her. “Stop that. No fidgets.”

Finally, she said, “Your magic is funny. It’s hazy and, well, funny. Odd.”

“What does that mean?”
Great.
She was broken.
Lizzie would never get out of this alive if she couldn’t at least fake some magic ability.

“I think it means someone who loved you very much put your magic to sleep when you we
re a young girl. But this sleep should have been reversed long ago. And even if something happened and they couldn’t remove it, it should have worn off.” Pilar was clearly thinking hard. The lines of her brow were deeply furrowed.

“How do you know that? And wouldn’t someone have noticed by now? I mean,
you
can see something is wrong.” Lizzie’s brain was whirling. If Pilar was right, maybe one of her parents or grandparents knew about magic? She had discounted the possibility up until now. A magical family opened up a whole world of different questions.

“I know
, because it’s not uncommon for spell casters who live among non-magical people to put their children’s magic to sleep when they’re young. Until they learn some control.” Pilar’s voice took on the tone of a practical mama. “Children have very poor impulse control, you know.”

“Then you’d
know what this ‘sleep’ looks like.” Lizzie peered at Pilar’s still furrowed brow. “You don’t seem sure.”

“First, there is a reason no one has noticed this strangeness about your magic. I can see auras if I try very, very hard. It
’s a talent very rarely found in spell casters. Worth almost certainly does not have it. I’ve never heard of a male caster with the skill. Casters usually work together with a healer when this is done to their children. Do you know any healers?”

“I’ve met one that I know of, but I hardly knew her. We spoke a few times.”
Lizzie thought back to the sad eyes of Idaho’s healer.

Pilar
nodded her head thoughtfully. “Hmm, yes. I understand healers consider it very rude to read or scan a person without their permission or knowledge. If you’ve had little contact with healers, your aura may not have been read. Or they simply didn’t know what they were seeing.” Pilar wrinkled her nose. “It’s quite odd looking.”

Lizzie crossed her arms defensively. “
You’re making me self-conscious. Can you stop with the ‘weird’ and ‘odd’ comments? I already feel like a defective product.” Bad enough she was broken. Having it pointed out so plainly was disconcerting. And a little embarrassing.

It took Lizzie about two seconds to realize how rude she’d been. She
’d been unusually snippy. Apparently, she wasn’t as nice under pressure as she might like to be.

“I’m sorry
, Pilar. You’ve been wonderful. I’m just a little overwhelmed.”

Pilar
waved her apology away with a casual hand. “It’s unlikely anyone would have looked at your aura. And if they did—what would they find? Your magic is visible, but it is as if viewing it through a clouded glass. A healer wouldn’t likely recognize such an... um, something so different.”

“Whoever did this, did they break something?” Lizzie asked. No great loss to her
, she tried to tell herself. She’d lived thirty-six years without magic already. But she did want to be able to fake her way through her first work day. Maybe even manage enough magic to keep Worth and his men happy.

“I have no idea. If I’m right and your magic is asleep, it’s possible
that it’s waking up on its own. As it already should have. I can try to wake your magic, like I would a child’s. I did this for my nephew, so I know how. But if I’m wrong…I don’t know what will happen.”