Lost Library: An Urban Fantasy Romance (31 page)

Max responded, “They’re fine. They’re on an impromptu vacation. Don’t ask how we managed that. You owe John
for a vacation for two in New Zealand, though.” At John’s low growl, Max laughed.

“Apologies.
Apparently, you don’t owe him.” Max grinned.

“Thank goodness. I’ve been sick thinking what
Worth might….Ugh. Enough. I’ve had my fill of that man,” Lizzie said.

She
took a cleansing breath. “There are two women on the fifth floor. Pilar is a hostage, but I’m not sure what Heike is. We were all under strict instructions not to leave the floor. Someone has to go up there and tell them what’s happened.”

Max raised his hand. “I’ll handle it.
Lizzie, see if you can touch base with Harrington. The number is programmed in John’s cell.”

Harrington’s arrival
two hours later, resulted in a bustle of activity. Max’s teasing question about the IPPC’s reach was answered. Harrington could, indeed, effect the evacuation of several residential houses. Within a few hours of his arrival, all of the attached homes on the row were empty.

Pilar
had been debriefed and her family contacted. After her meeting with Harrington, she’d insisted on saying her goodbyes in person.

She
gave Lizzie a tight hug, and whispered in her ear, “If you need me, you let me know.” Then she slipped a piece of paper in Lizzie’s hand. “My number.”

“Thank you so much,
Pilar. I truly don’t know what I would have done without you.” Lizzie wasn’t usually sentimental, but when she realized she had no idea when she’d see Pilar again, she got a little teary. “We’ll have to get together. Soon.”

After another quick hug,
Pilar rushed out the door. Lizzie was certain she was eager to see her daughter. Interestingly, Pilar’s daughter had phoned Harrington directly, asking to be picked up from a local Prague address. After his escape, Worth must have made arrangements with his men to release her. Lizzie was sure there was an angle there. Worth would never release a hostage out of charity or kindness. 

Harrington had his own thoughts on the subject.

“Respect. Whether for the IPPC or Ms. Smith, I’m not sure. Maybe both. He doesn’t want to antagonize anyone with influence right now. I suspect he’ll disappear for a time, recover, regroup, then return.”

Max said, “Speaking of
—are you going to tell us how Worth was injured, and why he fled? The tide was very much against us up to that point.” He shot a critical look at Harrington. “A little more backup would have been helpful.”

             
Harrington interjected before Lizzie could respond. “In the future, you will have the full support of the IPPC. The acquisition of the library has cemented the agency’s usefulness to the magic-using community. There was a collective sigh of relief that it didn’t fall into Worth’s hands. Jurisdiction should be less problematic in future.” Predicting Max’s response, he added, “Assuming future cooperation is necessary, of course.”

             
Max raised an eyebrow at him, then turned to Lizzie.

             
Lizzie struggled to explain what had happened. “I’m not sure. I was desperate. And I wanted him to stop. Then he did.” It was so much more complex than that. And yet, it wasn’t.

             
Lizzie thought of Sarah’s deathly stillness. “Have you heard anything about Sarah?” she asked Harrington.

             
Harrington said, “Only that her condition is grave and she’s not expected to regain consciousness soon. She’s being brought to a long-term care facility. Frank compared her condition to a coma, but it appears to be magically induced. This is new ground. None of our people have seen an injury like this before.”

             
There was a moment of silence as they all digested this information.

             
Lizzie finally responded. “Let us know if there’s anything, absolutely anything, that we can do.”

If only she had intervened sooner. But she knew that wasn’t fair. She didn’t even know what exactly she had done. She
did
know that it had taken the threat to John’s life to pull her magic from deep within her. Even knowing that, she couldn’t rationalize away her feelings of guilt.

Harrington nodded. “IPPC appreciates the offer. I’ll let you know.” Changing the subject, he said, “
I understand you’ve recently been made aware of your magic. Pilar explained some of the situation to me. Frank warned me, as well, that your magic is unusual in some ways.”

At Lizzie’s scowl, Harrington chided her. “I speak of facts. You would be well served to pay close attention. Spell caster communities and families are not nearly so well-organized in America. This is useful
information, and you may not easily find support at home. Frank and Pilar spoke only with your best interests at heart.”

Max discreetly left the room. Lizzie appreciated his consideration.
John caught her eye. “I’m not leaving unless you want me to,” he said quietly.

She shook her head firmly.
“Stay—please.” He nodded.

She returned her attention to Harrington.
Then she let out a pent up breath of air, making a huffing noise. “I apologize. It’s frustrating to be told how different and odd I am. Like I’m broken. I really don’t need to hear that after spending the last two years trying to read a stupid spelled book…and not succeeding.”

Harrington shook his
head. “Frank was surprised by the strength of your magic. He believes you’re a very powerful caster. And the events of today are proof positive of the strength of your magic. I would qualify that statement by warning you that you’re also raw and untrained.”

Lizzie couldn’t miss Harrington’s intent. Don’t get too confident or comfortable was the implication.
As if that was a problem for her.

At Lizzie’s silence, Harrington added, “
Pilar’s experience led her to believe that you come from a very powerful caster family.”

“I don’t see how that could be. My parents couldn’t have hidden something
so important from me for so long. Actually, they wouldn’t have. They’re like scouts. Preparedness is a motto for them. They would never have intentionally sent me out into the magical world, ignorant of even the most basic knowledge.”

“Magic
can be fickle, genetically speaking. It’s very possible neither of your parents has any perceivable magic. But perhaps a grandparent? Someone who died when you were a child?”

“
My maternal grandparents are still living. I never knew my dad’s father. But my father’s mother—she passed away when I was a little girl. It was very unexpected.” Lizzie frowned. “I can’t believe she was a spell caster.”

“Quite possibly a
very powerful one, from what Pilar described. Assuming, of course, your grandmother is the one who placed the concealment ward. A talent as strong as yours would have been hard to ward, or place into a sleep, as Pilar called it. Add to that the unique method used and the lengthy life of the ward. That points to an amazing talent—both powerful and very sophisticated.”

Harrington let that sink in. “You might consider doing a little family history homework.
More importantly, consider pursuing formal training. An apprenticeship, if you can find a mentor in the States.”

Lizzie nodded her head. She would be thrilled to have an opportunity to learn more
from a person who actually knew how it all worked and would share that with her. That sounded heavenly. Almost as good as a full night’s uninterrupted sleep. She yawned.

“Enough. You have my information. Call if you need anything.
Or if you’d like to work with IPPC. We’re suddenly finding ourselves busier and are actively recruiting.” Lizzie wasn’t sure if Harrington was serious, or if he’d suddenly displayed a sense of humor.

“One last thing, Mr. Harrington.
The library. What will happen to it?” She and John had returned briefly to the library and looked at the books accumulated on the shelves. It was just as breath-taking the second time she saw it.

Harrington
smiled.”It’s inspiring, isn’t it?” Assuming a more serious mien, he said, “We’ll study it. We’ll catalogue the books as best we can. Information that isn’t deemed dangerous to the public will be shared. Other than that, I can’t say.”

“Alone at last.
I know you’re tired and—”

Lizzie
interrupted John by wrapping her arms around his neck, pressing her entire body against him, standing on her toes, and kissing him. She’d promised herself she would man up. Woman up. That she would be brave. So here she was, being brave.

And if ever a girl deserved a kiss
from a gorgeous man, it was here, now, her, and him.

John lifted her up, cupping her ass.
Thank goodness for Lycan super-strength.

She squirmed, trying to lock her legs around him. And she could swear he growled at her.
A nice growl. But, still. The sound had traveled up his chest, through his throat, and eventually vibrated through her whole body, striking sympathetic quivers wherever it touched.

She moved her hands from around his neck to his hair.
Lizzie was fisting a handful of silky strands when he bit her neck. Not hard enough to leave a mark. But hard enough to feel the scrape of his teeth deep inside her body. She made a mewling noise in response. Then she tugged at his hair, trying to pull his mouth back up to hers. She felt the press of his lips, the slide of his tongue, his very breath, with every fiber of her being.

Minutes
—hours?—later, she blinked her eyes slowly. At some point, her feet had made it back to the ground. She bounced on her toes stretching, and yawned.

“That’s the least romantic response I’
ve ever had.”

Her response was to yawn
, yet again. This time so wide her jaw cracked. “Ow.” She rubbed at her jaw. “Can’t help it. I’m tired,” she said sleepily. She’d made it through the first few hours after their showdown with Worth with the help of Frank’s special healing skills. But whatever he had done was wearing off, and she was feeling the pull of exhaustion, typical after a massive adrenaline dump.

When she muffled a third yawn, John picked her up and carried her to the rental car
Harrington had arranged to have waiting in front of the townhouse. Buckling her in amidst her protests, he said, “Go to sleep. I’ll wake you up when we get to the airport.”

And as simpl
e as that, she knew. She was falling in love with this man. Her last thoughts, seconds before she fell asleep in the passenger seat, were of John and the joy she felt when she discovered he and his wolf were safe and whole.

              Lizzie woke up briefly at the airport, shuffling through security. Thankfully, they’d found her passport stashed in Worth’s office, so Harrington hadn’t needed to pull any strings to get her through security. Although, she suspected that he
could
have, if needed. Once through security, she promptly fell back asleep, curled up next to John. She wasn’t even awake long enough to notice, let alone appreciate, the private plane Harrington had chartered to fly them to London.

             
Halfway to London, they encountered mild turbulence. It was enough to wake her up, but not enough to cause her any upset. Odd. She was typically not the best of fliers. Casting a glance sideways, she saw that John looked a little green but was manfully ignoring the early symptoms of airsickness. She scooted respectfully away, not wanting to crowd him if he wasn’t feeling well. After a few minutes, they were back to a smooth ride.

             
“Not a fan of flying?” Lizzie asked.

             
“Not even a little bit.” His color was returning, and he looked much more comfortable.

             
What came next shouldn’t have been a surprise. But it was. Because in all the drama of kidnappings, hostage situations, and using magic, she’d temporarily forgotten about John’s spelled book.

             
“I’d still like for you to meet the pack,” John said.

             
“Of course. I can’t believe I forgot about the book—your book—even with all of the excitement.” She smiled broadly. “Now I can probably read the dang thing. A two-year-long mystery solved. It was never anything I was or wasn’t doing. I’m not sure if that’s a relief or just extremely annoying.”

She contemplated for a second, then
said, “A little like a mystery where you try to solve the puzzle, only to find out that the “who,” in the “dunit” was never indicated by the clues. Definitely annoying.”

             
He laughed a little, but he didn’t seem entirely at ease. “Hmm. Yes, I’d still like help with the pack’s record book. But what I meant, what I mean, is—I’d like you to meet my family.”

             
“I get it. The pack is your family.”