Spirited Legacy (Lost Library) (14 page)

“Tavish, one of the security guys, confirmed. He seemed pretty sure.” Lizzie didn’t know if Harry had the dragon down-low, so she didn’t comment.

“Ah. He would know. I’d forgotten Harrington brought the Clan in to cover security. If Tavish is there, he probably knows more about ghosts than I do,” he said.

“You sounded pretty knowledgeable when we spoke before, and, um—”

Harry’s soft laughter interrupted her. “And I’m way less scary than a dragon. I get it.”

“Eh. Scary isn’t really the right word. Tavish was incredibly nice. Maybe, intimidating is a better description. So what
do
you know? I’m looking for the basics. Can ghosts think, reason, remember their previous lives?” Lizzie hadn’t yet decided which was scarier, an unthinking entity acting without reason? Or a thoughtfully plotting ghost with an agenda? They both seemed like dodgy prospects.

“Yes, yes, and yes—but I’m uncertain as to the extent. For example, does Aunt Martha know she’s an aunt and that she’s called Martha? Most likely. Does she remember the tulips you brought her last May before she passed? No clue. And I also have no idea how much of a plan a disembodied bunch of energy might have. Do they have the same worldly concerns as us? No idea.” Harry covered the phone with his hand or tipped it away from his mouth, and Lizzie heard muffled goodbyes, and maybe a kiss?

“Any idea why she’d be quiet and then pick me to make a bunch of noise over? And is there any way to know how long she’s been there?”

“Best bet? Do some research. I’d gamble she died in the house. Did Tavish have any thoughts about why you’d been the recipient of your ghosts affections?” He was starting to sound a little more with it. She could even hear kitchen noises in the background. Running water. China rattling.

“Tavish thought it was possible there’s a family connection. But that seems to be reaching. I can’t imagine I’m a relative.”

“He got that idea from somewhere.” Harry paused, waiting for answer. Or, hell, maybe he was busy tying his shoes. What did she know?

“Let me restate. Where did he get that idea?” he said somewhat shortly.

Maybe he was a bit snarky when his sex life was tampered with. She couldn’t blame him. But how was she to know he’d still be in bed in the middle of the day? Let alone with a woman? She made a small, exasperated sound that she hoped didn’t travel down the line.
Dammit. What was the question?

“Same last name. Well, similar last name. Kovar is basically Smith in Czech. But who translates their name when they immigrate? Wouldn’t you just Americanize it? That is, if you changed it at all.” She wasn’t sure why she was so set against being a long lost daughter of the Kovar family. But every time it came up, her response was immediate and unequivocal denial or avoidance.

“I know the American school system leaves a lot to be desired, especially when it comes to European history. But your school even fails on American history. Troubling,” he said.

“I’m guessing that means it was a common practice?” Lizzie was never too good to admit she was wrong…or ignorant. Even if it made her feel like an idiot.

“It was,” he affirmed.

“Shoot.”

“Why does it bother you that you might be related to one of the big spell caster families?” Harry’s voice expressed only a very mild curiosity. More like he was pointing out the oddness to her, rather than actually caring about the answer.

“Well—” She thought about it. “They lost the Library. That makes them kinda irresponsible, right?” Though true, she wasn’t sure she was bothered by the fact that the Kovars, her potential long lost relatives, had lost control of the Library; there was surely a story there. So why was it so hard for her to believe they might be a part of her family tree? “Whatever, this may be irrelevant. I’m probably not related, anyway.”

“It certainly would be easy enough to check. Genealogy.com, or even a call to your parents. It’s worth a little time to check it out, just in case your ghost has a special connection to you.” As Harry spoke, Lizzie heard the scrape of a chair being moved.

“Do you have any other good information on ghosts?”

“Try a Ouija board. To communicate, I mean.”

“You’re kidding me.” An exasperated burble of laughter escaped before she could control it.

He sighed. “I don’t mean that you literally need a Ouija board. But try to give her access to letters and a way to point that doesn’t involve moving anything heavy. How did she make herself known to you? You just sensed she was there?”

“She knocked three really big books off one of the Library shelves.” Her voice turned slightly defensive. “It was late at night. I was jet-lagged.” True confessions time. “The sound, uh, well, it scared the crap out of me. I might have screamed like a little girl. Really loudly.”

Harry was apparently not above sniggering over the misery of others. Once he was done having a laugh at her expense, he said, “Have you seen or felt your ghost since then?”

“No. I haven’t. And I think Tavish would have said.” Lizzie tried to wrap her brain around the logistics of a disembodied cloud of magical energy manipulating physical objects. “Okay—I totally don’t get it. How did she move the books?”

“No clue,” Harry started, only to be interrupted by an annoyed exhalation from Lizzie. He continued, “But, my impatient and rude girl, weight has to play a role. Your ghost may be tired. No telling how long she’ll need to recoup before she can try again. Or her sense of time is different from ours. Or you’re just incredibly dull, and she wandered away to find more entertaining fare. Either way, try to give her a means of communication that is lightweight.”

“Got it. Any other words of advice?” Lizzie stole a glance at the wall clock. It was almost lunchtime, so she needed to wrap up. She’d forgotten to ask if lunch was buffet style, like breakfast, or a sit-down meal.

“She didn’t throw the books at your head?” he quizzed.

“Uh, no.” Confused, Lizzie tried to figure out where that came from.

“Lovely. Scratch murderous ghost off the list. You might have found a helpful ghost. Hit her up for some friendly advice about Sarah’s condition.”
That
was his advice?

“Why did I think you’d be helpful?” she muttered.

“Because I’m an accommodating, helpful sort. And you’re not terrified to grill me. Till next time.” And he hung up before she could say exactly how helpful he
hadn’t
been.

She smiled. Okay, she admitted to herself, he
was
an accommodating, helpful sort. And that
was
why she’d called him. And though he hadn’t oozed happiness to hear from her—she barely knew the guy and didn’t expect him to—he’d been pretty darn cool given what she’d interrupted. Or suspected she’d interrupted.

Off to lunch. Then she was making a Ouija board.

Chapter 18

J
ohn was in a piss poor state of mind. And he had a security meeting shortly—great. Being reminded that his mate had saved
his
life wasn’t particularly helpful. She wouldn’t have escaped Worth without the rescue attempt he’d spearheaded, but when push came to shove—she’d pulled his ass out of a world of trouble. He had only to look at Sarah or Moore—Worth’s other victims—to have a full understanding of that truth.

And it was more than just who had saved whom. He couldn’t seem to be himself without rubbing up against Lizzie’s sense of independence. Even the little things bothered her, though she made an effort to hide it. Maybe that was part of the problem. They were glossing over the issue like it didn’t exist, letting the small things slide, and it was all piling up.

He stalked up the stairs. He’d grab a shower before his meeting. No time for a run, and he needed to get his head on right before he met anyone else.

While he headed up two flights of stairs, he contemplated Lizzie’s introduction to the Pack. They needed to present a cohesive picture when they arrived in Texas. To look like a fully integrated unit—at least as observed from the outside in. Weakness between them would cause untold problems when he introduced her to the Pack. And if she was perceived to be anything less than fully supportive of his role—well, Texas was progressive, but they weren’t that progressive. And the Pack would be actively looking for faults. After the delay in her introduction to the Pack, it was inevitable.

He’d been more than a little naïve—or maybe just optimistic—when he’d asked Lizzie to be his mate. He certainly hadn’t anticipated the complications.
Fuck.
He stopped throwing his kit together, toothbrush in hand, and he closed his eyes. They hadn’t even discussed living arrangements. He’d desperately like to opt out of that conversation.

He grabbed his kit and headed to the bathroom down the hall. He laughed without any humor. All this stress over how to work things out with the Pack. That was assuming he and Lizzie got right with each other. Hardly a certainty. He was who he was, a mated Alpha. Progressive pack or no, he was still a man who wanted the people he cared about and was responsible for to be safe. And in Lizzie’s case, he felt a sometimes overwhelming desire to protect this fragile person who was becoming so dear to him. And, he couldn’t forget the lust.
God.
Always
there at a slow burn, but occasionally all consuming. He cranked the shower a little colder.

Independent, convinced she was invincible, more concerned for those around her than for herself, Lizzie invited trouble.
Damn.
One minute he wanted to shake her until her brain started working properly and the next he wanted to fuck her. It was an unsettling and unpleasant combination. Lust, a desire to protect, a sense of possession, and a variety of other emotions mixed together and butted up against her complete lack of common sense and her decidedly negative reaction to the suggestion that she might need help or be unable to handle everything alone.

Shower over, he wrapped himself in a towel and grabbed his stuff. Most of the time, he was a reasonable guy. He even managed to be reasonable with Lizzie—sometimes. But he couldn’t constantly be on his guard that something he would say or do would set her off. That wasn’t any way for either of them to live. Throwing his kit on the bed, he rubbed his hand over his face. He may love her, but no one should live like that. He’d made his choice—impulsive though it may have been. And he stopped. He
had
made his choice. And he wasn’t an impulsive man. That, in and of itself, was another factor to consider.

When he finally arrived at the security meeting with Lachlan, he was hardly in a better frame of mind. He felt like there were too many questions, not enough answers, and someone was playing a massive joke on him.

All of those thoughts, the chaotic swirl of turmoil and emotion drifting around in his head—hell, in his gut, maybe his heart—well, that’s what he was blaming. Because normally he’d have more sense than to pick a fight with a dragon. Lachlan was an unknown entity, so starting a fight would be foolish in the extreme. The goal of the meeting was for Lachlan to bring John up to speed on the security team rotations, educate him about the wards that Harrington and his staff set including their limitations, begin plans for hiring full-time, permanent security staff, and set a deadline for the handoff to the new permanent security staff. They got so far as reviewing the staff names and roles, and that was enough to set John’s hackles up.

“Is there a reason that you’ve got Tavish assigned specifically to Lizzie? That she’s his primary duty?” John asked.

“Your little mate likes trouble, and Harrington specifically requested we ensure her safety. I owe Harrington a debt, paid only upon successful completion of this project. Would you have me rely upon a single wolf to secure her safety? Given the uncertain state of your relationship with the girl, I thought an alternative plan feasible.” Lachlan’s eyes burned green for a moment. When he began speaking again, the glow faded. “Such a tiny human girl. I see why you don’t trust her to keep herself safe.” Sarcasm dripped from his words.

John could feel a low growl rumbling deep in his chest. What the hell did he mean? Lizzie
was
a tiny human girl. But John was pissed so he didn’t dwell on the strangeness of Lachlan’s comments. And he looked like a good candidate for a brawl. Especially since he was the only one around. Never mind the three inches and at least thirty pounds of muscle that McClellan’s CEO and Chief of Security had on him. And he’d heard something about fire…S
hit. He was an idiot.

His intent must have been clear. Or perhaps that growl had rumbled just loud enough for dragon ears. “I know you’re accustomed to being the baddest wolf in the room. Trust me when I say this—you will not win.” After a pause, Lachlan said, “And I have no desire to fight a man over a woman, like two dogs over a bone.”

John stopped. Okay. That was a distasteful image. And not one that he wanted to leave this room. Lizzie would go ballistic in her current frame of mind. He rubbed his face.
Shit.
If Lachlan wasn’t trying to pick a fight, what the hell was he doing?

“If you repeat that comment to Lizzie, I don’t care how big you are or what kind of fire you have, I’ll find a way to kick your ass.” Seriously, Lizzie would lose it.
Two dogs over a bone?

Lachlan laughed. A huge booming sound, that came from his belly. “If you’re alive to do it. Your tiny mate packs a punch.”

What the fuck? This guy was impossible to follow. He was done with this. “Say what you mean. I’ve had enough of guessing and miscommunication for one day.”

“Wolf. You’re no fun.” Lachlan sighed. “Your woman can protect herself. You’re currently lacking a partner, not another responsibility. You do the math.”

John cocked his head. “She’s human.”

Lachlan looked at him with pity. “She’s not
only
human.”

John looked at Lachlan’s retreating back. Presumptuous, condescending SOB. And odd. Tavish came in almost immediately. So quickly, John would be surprised if he hadn’t passed his boss in the hallway.

“Sorry I’m late. Where’s Lachlan?” Tavish asked. Apparently they had missed each other.

“Gone,” John said curtly. “Can you give me the rundown?”