Lost Library: An Urban Fantasy Romance (28 page)

Lizzie
knew this library must be worth a tremendous fortune. Worse even, that it had more than monetary value. This room was knowledge, history, secrets. Power. And for a man like Worth….No, she and Pilar wouldn’t leave here alive if Worth could help it.

“This table is yours, Ms. Smith.
” Moore was all condescending politeness. He really was an objectionable, slimy man.

She looked at the table. In the initial wonder of entering the room, she had failed to see
that there was a grouping of three tables. Seemingly, one for each worker. Lizzie took a seat at the table. There were already a handful of books stacked on it, waiting for her.

Worth stepped forward running his hand over the book placed on top.
“Only the titles for now, Ms. Smith. Unlike your pack record books, most of these books have titles on the spine or cover. As I said, a simple task, requiring very little effort on your part.” 

But the gig was up. Lizzie’s expressive face had given her away. Worth was perfectly aware she’d reached the
conclusion that she wouldn’t survive her experience in the library. She needed to focus on today, on now. Otherwise, she might not even make it out of the library.

She looked at her new workspace. Other than
a stack of what she assumed were spelled books, there was a legal pad, pens, and pencils. Seating herself at the table, she reviewed the steps in her mind. She could do this.

Step one
: find her magic. She looked for it, but there was nothing. And then she panicked.

No. She would not let this—this entire mess—beat her. Not Moore. Not Worth. She could do this.
She took a slow, deep breath. Exhaled. As she was drawing her third breath, Worth interrupted her.

“Problem, Ms. Smith?”
His normally pleasant tones were tinged with annoyance.

“Performance anxiety.
You know how it is.” She gave him a blinding smile.
Take that however you like, you bastard.
And then she had it. Pilar had described it as a kernel deep inside. But once she found it, she thought it felt more like a rush of warmth through her whole body. A little like the feeling that a hot beverage—a good black tea with a touch of milk or a hot chocolate, for example—gave her when she was chilled. It warmed her from the inside out.

Step two
: decide on an action. This was apparently the hard part. Pilar had coached her on her own method. She picked up the book she was to examine. Pilar had explained to her she wasn’t really going to read the book. It was the spell attached to the book she would be reading. The book was simply an anchor, the object the recording spell was attached to. Naturally, Lizzie had asked, why a book? Why not use something tiny, like a coin or a pebble?

Pilar
had laughed and said, “I suppose you could. I suspect it would require more magic to maintain the spell. Also, choosing an object that reflects the function of the spell makes it easier to interact with the spell. Language spells can be difficult enough without making the interface more difficult. And I suspect a jar full of pebbles, while tidy and small, would be difficult to differentiate from one another. But I like the way you think, Lizzie.”

Remembering this conversation, she remembered what
Pilar told her next. Interacting with a spelled book was a little like using Google. There was a certain amount of information within the book, and she could pull it out if she asked the right question. She considered her task. She needed a title. Simple enough.

Step three
: apply will. Thinking, “what’s the title?” she gave the question a little mental push. Nothing.
I really, really mean it. I want to know the title.
Still nothing. Maybe she wasn’t asking nicely enough?
Please will you tell me your title, Mr. Book?
Nothing.

Good grief. Now she was acting like the book was a person.
She stopped. There was a reason she was acting that way. The book felt—not like a person—but like it had an awareness, as if it was animate. She had recognized that purposefulness or awareness on some level, and she’d addressed the book as a person.
Mr. Book? Really Lizzie…

Then she remembered
something else Pilar had told her. She’d been worried. Stressed that she’d do something she didn’t intend, or that she’d not do it—do magic—right. Pilar had shaken her head and said, “It doesn’t work that way. You have to
try
to make something magical happen. And if you’re ever in doubt, listen to your instincts.” She’d shushed Lizzie as she’d been about to interrupt. “I know. You don’t have practice and magic is new to you. You will still have instincts about using your magic. I’m sure of it. If something feels unnatural and wrong, then don’t do it.”

Lizzie applied that logic in reverse now. If something felt right, then do it.
Book, will you tell me your name?

Lizzie perked up.
Thank you.
She turned to Worth and said, “A Witch’s Diary.” Funny, she thought. She hadn’t been precise. The question she’d posed technically required a yes/no response. But her intent had obviously been clear. Victory! She’d done her first bit of magic by herself.

Worth replied, “Finish these and Mr. Moore will retrieve another stack for you.” An
d that was the end of her party. Addressing Moore, he said “I’ll be in my study. Have one of the men fetch me if there’s a problem.” He turned to leave.

John’s rescue crew included Max, Kenna, Sarah, and the pilot, Frank, who was also a healer. Frank could aid with injuries, but even more importantly, John was relying on him to detect the number of people in the house. Frank said it was possible
that he could get a read on a magic user’s talent type, as well, but no guarantees at such a distance.

They continued their strategy session mid-flight, excluding only their pilot who
, by necessity, had his attention focused elsewhere. After arriving in Prague and meeting with Harrington’s local contact, the rescue crew’s first stop was at a hotel. At the hotel, they all sat together and listened as John recapped the plan. Kenna would remain with the van, outside and well away from the house but within radio distance. Frank would stay with her. Neither of them had any hand-to-hand fighting skills and would be more of a hindrance in close quarters. Kenna could handle a shotgun with some confidence, and she had a concealed carry permit for a handgun. In other words, at least enough familiarity to safely load, reload, unjam an automatic, and hit a stationary target.

Through some mysterious means he refused to share, Harrington arranged
, via his Prague contact, delivery of a shotgun and three handguns. Max and Kenna split the weapons between them. The group determined Sarah and Frank were too unfamiliar with guns and would be more of a risk armed.

Because they were depending on
Sarah to determine the number, placement, and type of wards, she would minimally have to approach the house with John and Max. The three discussed the risks to her safety, but Sarah was insistent.

“
The only way I can even find them, let alone disarm them, is to get close. I really need to go inside with you. The closer I can get, the better my chances. Also, I’m the only one with any understanding of caster magic. That might be vital.”

When she saw Max and John weren’t entirely convinced, she added, “
And there are the neighbors to consider. You want me to be as accurate as possible, since we can’t arrange for the neighbors in the attached houses to be evacuated. Evacuation would alert Worth and his men we’re coming—right?”

At this, Max raised his eyebrows.
“Because that’s the only consideration? IPPC has the resources and contacts to evacuate several residential houses?”

Sarah replied, “My lips are sealed,” and tried to look mysterious. She failed utterly and smiled.

More seriously, she said, “It’s the best plan. You know that it is.” And Max and John did know it. They were at a grave disadvantage. Both knew very little about magical warding or magical attacks. They
’d be exposing the operation to a much higher level of risk by leaving the spell caster behind. Leaving her wasn’t really an option—although both men disliked having someone along who couldn’t look after herself in a fight. The risk-reward analysis was clear.

John said, “You’re with us.” Turning to
Frank, John asked, “How close do you need to be?”

“To detect the very basics
—signs of life and a head count—I’m guessing not very close. Across the street, maybe.” Frank looked uncertain and worried. “What you’re asking me to do, it’s unusual. Typically, I’m very close to the person I’m reading, and I’m looking for much more detail. I recommend moving in close with the van. I can establish a safe distance by slowly moving away. At some point I won’t be able to see useful information, then we can move back into range.

John nodded his head in agreement. He was fortunate Frank had agreed to help. It crossed ethical boundaries for healers to read a person without their knowledge or consent.
Or so Harrington had told him when he’d offered Frank’s help. Knowing this, John at least understood why Frank was so uneasy. Prior to accepting the mission, Harrington had explained to Frank that at least one person was being held against her will, possibly more. And that’s why Frank was making an exception in this case.

Frank would provide
the number of people and their placement in the house. Sarah had the types of defenses around the house covered. It was a good start. The biggest concern now—what form would Worth’s attacks take? And that’s why he and Max were carting along an inexperienced civilian. He hoped Sarah’s help was worth the risk.

John and Max
chose speed over stealth, insofar as the time of their entry to the house. They would have had more cover after dark. But cover from what? The neighbors? The real concern was the security system and warding. And so they’d chosen to move ahead during the day, because concern for Lizzie’s safety had been increasing.

After a preliminary drive by the house, they’d learned the streets weren’t warded
. So activity on the street was not being magically surveilled. There was a total count of three women, four men. Much fewer than Harrington, John, or Max had anticipated. That begged the question, had Worth been so certain in covering his tracks that he felt the need for only minimal security? Or was the library not on site? Was Lizzie even here?

Max offered an alternative theory.
“A calculated risk. Cover your tracks, then secure as best you can with a discreet, efficient force. A large security detail would call more attention, more quickly to the location. That’s my bet.”

“If you’re right, that means we can anticipate being met with significant force.” John
relied on Max’s expertise, but hoped for an unprepared crew.

Sarah had been surprised by the entry plan. “We just walk in
through the front door?”

“We’re not planning to knock. You can unlock the door, right?” John knew the answer. He was asking the question more to re
assure her.

She nodded her head firmly. “There’s no
magical lock, and I can manipulate the bolt to unlock it. No problem.” She was pale but still unwavering in her determination to go in with John and Max.

“And
if you can’t,” John said, remembering that she’d acknowledged in their planning session that manipulation of objects wasn’t her strength, “then Max can bust the lock. No problem.” He repeated her own words. When she looked up, he said, “Ready?” His gaze was steady, confident, and reassuring.

He suspected she wasn’t, but she went.

As they approached the house,
Sarah found a perimeter detection ward. Relatively simple in construction, the purpose was to warn the caster—surely Worth, in this instance—when someone crossed its threshold. If she disabled the ward, Worth would be warned of the attack, though he would have no idea of their numbers. Instead, she chose a subtler option. She altered the ward ever so slightly by subtly twining her magic in and around it in a few key points. She altered part of its purpose. The detection portion would have been impossible to change without alerting Worth. But now the ward only detected feline life. It was not an unknown trick, but it wasn’t easy to do. If Worth was paying close attention, he’d notice the subtle manipulation of his ward.

Turning the lock had been
relatively simple. Sarah hadn’t managed the task with finesse, and it made a loud click noise. But she did it. The next thing she knew, she was looking into the front hall. She cast a discreet cover ward, attaching it to the doorframe. Anyone passing by would see a closed door and wouldn’t detect the ward, unless they were actively looking for it. Having passed the perimeter detection and lock wards, she was now on the lookout for more sophisticated and hidden wards…and spotted two almost immediately.

“I’m looking at two wards past the entry to the door.
One is a motion detector. I can manage it, and he’s unlikely to notice. The second is offensive, a trap. I’m not sure exactly what it does, but I understand the basic mechanics and should be able to disable it. Once I begin, Worth will know we’re here. I’ve got no work-around for the second trap, so there’s no choice but to give him warning. Also, I can’t guarantee safe handling, since I can’t decipher the trap entirely.”