Spirited Legacy (Lost Library) (16 page)

“Yes.” Inspiration struck. “You can join us, if you like.” Not exactly a warm invitation, but that’s as good as it was getting for now. Harrington would have to settle for that.

Apparently, Heike was on board with a continued truce, because she seemed to consider the matter thoughtfully, rather than dismissing the invitation out of hand. “No. I don’t want to chase your ghost away. But I’ll keep half an ear open.” And she smiled ever so slightly at Lizzie.

Lizzie returned her smile, tentatively. “If you hear Tavish squeal like a little girl, come save us.” She shot Tavish a quick look and raised her eyebrows at him.

“You know Tavish is…” Heike began, but stopped suddenly and glanced at him.

Lizzie saved her. “Fire-friendly and slightly older than he looks. Yes.”

Heike nodded.

Tavish hustled Lizzie into the Library. She sat down at the same table she’d occupied earlier that day. She wasn’t comfortable with her back to the wall with the falling books, so she chose a seat opposite, facing the suspect wall. She took a few calming breaths, and asked what she thought was the most relevant question.

“If you’re here, can you tell us who you are?”

Lizzie had placed the little stone on the corner of the board. Slowly, the stone moved from letter to letter. K-O-V-A-R

Holy shit.
“Holy shit,” she said. She briefly made eye contact with Tavish, and she could see a low glimmer of green in the depths. He nodded once slowly. She took that to mean, yes, ghostly presence in attendance.
Ya think?
And after she calmed down just a bit and paid attention to the room—the way it felt now versus before—she could feel it, too. The feeling that if she turned suddenly, she’d bump into someone. The feeling that she’d almost, but not quite, caught a glimpse of someone outside her peripheral vision. The feeling that someone’s eyes were on her. She made a mental note.
This is what a room with a resident ghost feels like.

Next question. “Why are you here?”

K-O-V-A-R

By the time she hit the “V,” Lizzie was thinking that maybe her ghost could only spell one word.

“What—” she stopped. Her ghost was still working.

L-I-B-R-A-R-Y

Lizzie thought for a minute. “You’re here because you’re a Kovar, and the Kovars protect the Library.” Of course. She was an idiot sometimes. Very occasionally clever, but today—a bit of an idiot.

The pebble moved to the “yes,” then popped up about an inch, then back down again. And again. Three times total, her ghost said yes. An emphatic ghost. Okay.

“Why are you still here? In the Library?” Lizzie asked. She looked over at Tavish. They really should have consulted on their questions beforehand.

Tavish nodded encouragingly. He must approve of that one.

The pebble lifted in the air several inches off the board, hovered very briefly, then shot straight at the wall, impacting with a loud crack as stone hit wooden shelves.

Holy cow.
“That was creepy, right?” She probably shouldn’t say things like that in front of her ghost.
But—wow.

Tavish nodded. His silence was becoming noticeable. Probably a wise choice, since her ghost was communicating freely with her. Wouldn’t want to scare her off.
Ha.
After that stone throw, they should be more concerned for their own safety.

“I’m sorry. Did I say something to make you angry?” Might as well bring it all out into the open. Politely, she thought, eying the stone.

The pebble rose from the ground near the shelves slowly, and Lizzie tried her damnedest not to flinch as it moved in her direction. But there was no force, and the pebble very softly landed on the “no” word.

That was vastly confusing. Though good. Maybe.

She considered her next question. She still didn’t know which Kovar she was dealing with. If she was going to do some research on her ghost, then a first name was vital. And a time frame. A time frame would be really helpful.

“What is your first, your given, name?”

M-A-T-Y-L-D-A

Lizzie clapped her hands in excitement. Oops. Don’t scare the ghost, Lizzie, she told herself. But how exciting! Her ghost had a name.

“When did you die?” Lizzie asked.

The pebble remained still.

“What year did you, um, become how you are?” Maybe she wasn’t supposed to use the word “die”?

The pebble didn’t move.

Lizzie frowned. As she tried to think how to reword the question, the pebble moved to “no.”

“You didn’t die?” Lizzie guessed wildly. Although how was that possible? Unless her ghost was not only emphatic but also a bit of a philosopher and didn’t consider herself dead in her current state.

The pebble pinged on the “no” word with a slight amount of force.
Crap.
She was annoying her ghost. That wasn’t good.

“You’re not dead?” Totally nonsensical, but she had to ask. Heck—maybe she could astral project. That was a thing. She’d seen it in the movies.

D-E-A-D

What the…
“So—you
are
dead?” She was confused as hell now. Looking at Tavish, she saw he was just as perplexed.

Yes

Gah. “
How did you die?”

Nothing. Then the pebble jumped up and landed in on “no.”

She looked at Tavish, thought through what had just happened, and decided maybe she had an idea. “A delay followed by ‘no’ means a bad question, right?” Her question was directed at Tavish, but Matylda jumped right in.

Yes

Tavish smiled and quietly said, “There’s your answer.” Lizzie was glad he found some humor in this. She was just frustrated.

As he spoke, Matylda started moving the pebble.

W-H-E-R-E

“Where?” Frowning, she thought back to her last question. Surely they were still discussing death? Death seemed like it would be an important point for a ghost.

In an aside to Tavish, she quietly said, “We need to write down our questions. I can’t keep track.”

He mouthed a response.

Aha.
“Where did—” before Lizzie could finish with “you die,” the pebble had hopped cheerily over to “yes.” And yes, it really was a happy little bouncing motion to the “yes” word.

Good job, Tavish. She tipped her chin in acknowledgement.

Before Lizzie could get excited that she’d stumbled on something to make her ghost happy, the pebble stilled and there was a loud thud. Five books had fallen to the floor. Smaller ones this time.
What the hell was with the books?

Lizzie’s phone rang. She couldn’t believe that she had enough signal in the basement to get a call. Glancing down, she saw it was Pilar. She quickly silenced her phone. She’d call her back in a bit. Pilar would certainly understand once she got even a hint of this story.

“Matylda? I don’t understand. Are these books important? Do they explain where you died?” Then Lizzie realized something. Why was Matylda concerned with location? “Where” was the one answered question, the one piece of relatively certain information. They’d all decided that the “where” must be here in the Library. That Matylda was likely tied to a particular location, the house, and even more specifically, the Library, because she’d died here.

“She’s gone.” Tavish shrugged. “I can’t feel her presence any longer.”

“Great. We have a weapon-wielding ghost, and she’s the one who’s afraid of a little phone noise. Although, phones are modern, so maybe any technology is scary?” Lizzie was still trying to work through the question when Tavish interrupted her.

“Or she exhausted herself pulling five books from the shelves to the ground,” Tavish guessed.

“And the phone noise was a coincidence? Maybe. Most important question of the hour—why is Matylda fixated on where she was killed when that is the one thing we know? Well, think we know.”

“Because we don’t know?” Tavish picked up the books, scanning the open pages quickly. “I don’t think the content matters.”

“What?” Lizzie was still scratching her head. Metaphorically, at least. Hadn’t she sworn to work on her quick-thinking skills? This whole ghost experience had been a near epic fail on the quick thinking. She really needed scripted questions.

“The content of the books?” He raised his eyebrows as he snapped shut one of the books and held it up. “Not important. Did you not notice how carefully your ghost placed the pebble on the board?”

“Yes. Except when she hurled it at the shelf. It was hard to miss the terrific cracking noise of the stone smacking the shelf. Otherwise, yes, she was very precise.”

“If the content of the book was important, why not dump a book on the ground and flip to the relevant page? She understands us. So language doesn’t appear to be a problem. She can spell—her name and a few words, at least—so one assumes she can read. And the caretaker of a Library, magical or not, I would assume could read. Probably multiple languages.”

“Maybe the books themselves are the message? Or the titles of the books?” Lizzie asked.

“Maybe. But two of these books are empty of text. If she can read the spell, maybe, but that seems improbable.” Tavish didn’t look convinced.

“How long do you think before she comes back? Or can come back.” She was doing the math in her head. “I guess there’s a question of ability and desire. Maybe she thinks we’re idiots and is throwing her ghostly hands in the air,” she added.

“Sixteen hours since her last appearance. She interacted more, maybe tired herself more? But we also don’t know how long she’s been lurking in here, waiting for you to come back.” He was a little quicker with the math than she was. Or more focused.

After examining Lizzie for a moment, he said, “I don’t think our ghost would be so easily put off by a little incompetence. I’m guessing she’s back as quickly as she’s able. Even with as little at her disposal as she had, her enthusiasm was clear.”

Lizzie pulled a half grimace. “Are we that incompetent?”

“Hey, she was talking to you. Don’t include me.” He grinned. He really was pretty laid back. For a guy who could probably breathe fire.

“So, what? I camp out here?” Lizzie started thinking about the logistics. Why not? She could even start working. And she’d give her ghost, Matylda, an opportunity to grab her attention.

“Up to you,” he said.

She thought about her mental to-do list, tallied up the important and not so important parts, then said, “Yep. It’s a plan. I need to make a quick call to a friend and the reception down here is sketchy. So I’ll just run upstairs, make my call, and bring some food down.”

“My unsolicited security advice is to have someone with you at all times when you’re in the Library proper. First, you’ll appreciate the extra set of eyes when she does come back again. And second—” He gave her a serious look. “—she pitches a mean book and an even meaner stone. It’s a good safety precaution.”

Lizzie wasn’t that obstinate. Why did everyone think she wanted to run off into danger and conquer the world? She wasn’t all that brave. And certainly not stupid.

She gave him a squinty-eyed look. “Stop with the judging. I never said I didn’t want help, did I? You’ve obviously been talking to some folks with some incorrect info.” And she had one good guess who that was. Okay, two—make that three. Damn, maybe there were a few people around who thought she was incautious. But they were wrong.

“You didn’t trade yourself to a bunch of kidnappers to save your friend? Or stick your hand into the equivalent of a magical meat grinder to stop Worth from hurting your boyfriend?”

Oops. She did do
that
. But she was a complete weenie. Really.

She chewed the edge of her lip, avoiding Tavish’s more than likely amused face. “But I don’t lack all common sense.”

“Prove it.” He nodded toward the door. At her confused look, he reminded her gently, “Your phone call?”

Chapter 20

“I
t’s so good to talk to you.” Lizzie could hear the smile in Pilar’s voice.

Shifting the phone briefly to sit snugly in the crook of her neck and shoulder, Lizzie used both her hands to open the heavy door out to the patio. “It’s been a little busy, or I would have called sooner.”

“And you have a question now,” Pilar said.

Lizzie wrinkled her nose up in consternation. “I do. I’m sorry. That’s horrible, isn’t it?”

“Not at all. It’s exactly what my children do, and they love me dearly. They even send a text telling me to call like you did.” Her merry laughter tinkled across the phone line.

“And how old are they?” Lizzie planted herself on one of the benches. This might be the only outdoor time she’d get until tomorrow. She couldn’t predict the length of her ghost vigil.

“Younger than you.” Pilar laughed again. “You’re young at heart, darling, that’s all.”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t pick up earlier. I was having a ghost encounter.”

Pilar snorted. Elegant, polite Pilar. Picturing that made Lizzie smile broadly. Apparently ghosts weren’t regular fare for her, either.

“How did that work out?” Pilar asked.

“Still working on it. My question was about a weird experience I had with one of the magic books. I just wanted to be sure it’s safe to leave out on the Library shelves.”

“No problem. I’ll help if I can,” Pilar said. And she would. Pilar had been a rock during their shared kidnap experience. “Doesn’t IPPC also have a full-time spell caster? Someone besides you that also has a language talent?”

“Heike.”

“I see.” Pilar’s tone was neutral.

“Maybe not. She’s…she’s different, Pilar.” Lizzie sighed. “Or I think she is. She’s trying, anyway. And we don’t really know what was happening in this house—between her and Worth. Or so Harrington reminded me quite forcefully.”

“But not your first choice for a prickly problem,” Pilar extrapolated.

“Not my first choice,” Lizzie agreed. She peered up at the clear sky. The sun was muted at this time of day. The garden was truly lovely. “And I’ve wanted to check in for the last few days, to see how you’re doing.”

“My daughter is safe and doesn’t seem to be suffering any lingering ill effects. Now that everything has turned out all right, she sees it as a grand adventure. And, of course, I never discussed the details of my stay with her.” She summed up the entire experience with a succinct and completely motherly comment. “She’s well, so I’m well.”