Spirited Legacy (Lost Library) (19 page)

“Not really,” Heike said. “I think it’s just you.”

Lizzie frowned at Heike. Was she calling Lizzie a trouble magnet? Because this crazy drama stuff found her, not the other way around. She had slowly been softening toward Heike, but she’d have to seriously rethink her position.

John looked concerned. “There’s a flaw here that no one has considered. If Matylda wants Lizzie to fade to the location, how can that happen? Even assuming she is a Kovar, and even assuming that the talent has remained true throughout several intervening generations—she can’t teleport somewhere she’s never been and can’t see. That would be suicidal.”

“Shit.” Lizzie dropped down into one of the chairs. She’d bet she was pale. She
felt
pale.

Every head in the room turned to her. “
Worth
can teleport. If it’s really that rare, and I’m actually a Kovar….” A nasty thought intruded. “Please tell me I’m not related to that, that—” She felt sick.

John was pushing her head down in between her knees. Lizzie could have sworn he was on the opposite side of the room no more than a second ago.

“What are you doing?” It came out muffled, since she was speaking to the floor.

John’s hand lightly massaged the back of her neck. “You’re white as a sheet. And seeing you pass out once was more than enough for a lifetime, thank you.”

She hadn’t realized that she’d gone all clammy. But a slight swoosh of air passed by, catching on her damp skin. Goose bumps popped up immediately. She tipped her head slightly to the side. Tavish had joined them, hence the mild draft as he’d opened the door.
Great. More witnesses.

Hadn’t John mentioned passing out? Nuh-uh. “I don’t do that anymore. My magic’s all in harmony now, or whatever Harry said. You know what I mean.” Her protest was mild at best. More an explanation than a protest, because his warm hand on her neck, his body close to hers, was making her feel less like she wanted to puke her guts up.
Wow. That was romantic.
She might keep that thought to herself.

“Uh-huh.” The gentle but firm massaging on her neck didn’t stop.

Heike interrupted her thoughts with a no-nonsense observation. “We don’t know. These conclusions are simply conjecture, based upon not one known fact. Until we know if you’re a Kovar, how many families have the fade ability, if you can fade—there’s simply no point in assuming the worst.”

Interesting.
Heike was apparently on board with everyone’s evaluation of Worth as a super-evil, way-bad dude. Lizzie liked that. It had a nicer ring than mastermind, which seemed to give him too much credit. It was a helpful discovery, insofar as it might help Lizzie to believe Heike wasn’t a cooperating and fully participating member of Worth’s gang.

She covered John’s hand with her own, squeezed once in thanks, then moved to sit up. “I’m good.”

Lachlan seemed unconcerned, but mildly curious. “Worth used teleportation to escape?” He gave Harrington a quick side-glance. “I wasn’t aware.”

Harrington remained silent.

Lizzie slipped Harrington an annoyed look. “I’m confused. Wasn’t that in the report? Worth disappeared, and Frank—our healer—picked him up again in a neighboring house. It should have been in the report.” Lizzie knew the IPPC had recorded all of the information. Why didn’t the head of security—temporary though he might be—have all of that information?

“There were certain aspects of the case that we decided required further investigation. That was one of them.” That was Harrington—no apologies.

“Is there a way to prevent someone from teleporting into an area?” John asked. He rubbed his jaw thoughtfully. “I’m thinking about our perimeter security.”

Harrington said, “The distance Worth seems to have traveled is very short. It’s possible it was a function of his weakened state, but more likely it’s a limitation of the talent.”

Tavish and Lachlan murmured words of assent.

“What little I’ve seen has been short distances. No more than twenty feet, certainly. Probably less.” Tavish seemed certain.

After a short consultation, the men seemed to be in agreement that there was minimal security risk from teleportation unless Worth could boost the distance significantly from any historically known teleportation attempt. There were multiple perimeter wards and physical security barriers in place at points in excess of twenty feet from the walls of the house.

Lizzie waved at the group of men. “We need to come up with questions for Matylda, before she returns. Clearly, she thinks she can help with Sarah. I couldn’t be more thrilled, if that’s true, and I’m pretty sure she’s going to keep coming back until we get the message.” She looked around the group. “I’m not sure about you guys, but I’d eventually like to get some sleep. And we’ll be here all night at the rate we’re going.”

Heike nodded in John’s direction. “He had a good question. You can’t teleport to a place you can’t see and haven’t been before. Or if you can, you don’t how to do it safely.”

Tavish said, “How can Lizzie teleport to an unseen location?” Heike nodded and wrote it down.

Lizzie raised her hand. “Um—I can’t teleport, remember? We need to tell her that. And what about an alternative entrance?” She perked up. “Wait a minute. If it’s an escape route, there’s another side. A passage or tunnel has at least two access points. Maybe we can find the other end.”

And avoid a gruesome end to a, thus far, much too short existence. But she kept that thought to herself.

Heike spoke as she wrote. “Alternative exit—got it. Lizzie cannot fade, or doesn’t know how.”

And, naturally, a stack of books fell over with a loud crash.

Chapter 23

“A
re you kidding me?” Lizzie practically yelled. She didn’t think she was the only one to jump at the loud noise.

There was a tapping noise coming from the table with the board. All six of the room’s occupants moved to surround the table. John and Tavish quickly cleared everyone away from the side of the table near the heavily targeted shelf.

The source of the tapping was the tip of a pen, hitting the “no” word repeatedly.

Heike interpreted for anyone who missed Matylda’s meaning. “She’s not kidding.”

And the resident ghost had a sense of humor. Either that or she was really annoyed with them. Or with Lizzie.

Heike shoved the short list at Lizzie. But Lizzie shook her head and quietly murmured, “Thanks.” Two questions she could do on her own.

“You want me to fade to the other side of the wall?” Her tone was clipped, almost angry. She had to remind herself that Matylda wasn’t the problem. Their limited communication was.

Yes

“I can’t fade.”

No.
The pen thwacked the word on the board.

“You’re telling me I can?”

Yes, yes, yes.
The pen tapped lightly three times in quick succession.

“How?”

F-O-L-L-O-W

“Sure. I just follow a ghost, who I can’t see—eek!” Lizzie was being pushed, no, pulled. But not with hands. Then she felt a soft tug deep inside, like her magic wanted to grab onto something, someone. Matylda?

Lizzie panicked. Was this what Worth had done? He’d grabbed Sarah’s magic and pulled it from her body. She could hear a growling noise, as if from a very long way away—John. If she was this frightened, he was surely seeing red.

But then she felt the most amazing sensation. It was as if she was twining fingers with Matylda, even though Matylda had no hands. Like their magic touched and intertwined. It was intimate like a close hug, but not invasive. And she could feel, she wasn’t sure what, but something from Matylda. Comfort? Reassurance? It was warm and pleasant.

When Matylda tugged at her magic, it was a polite question: follow me?

Remember the rules, Lizzie reminded herself. She had to find her magic, pull it to the surface so that it was ready to be used. Matylda had done that for her. Something Lizzie had never experienced before. That was what had so frightened her. She thought that Matylda was taking her magic, but she was simply calling it and mingling it with her own.

Next she imagined very clearly in her mind the connection between Matylda and herself. Or maybe she was seeing it? Then she formed a clear picture of what she wanted to happen. She didn’t know where she was going, so she cleared her mind of a destination and thought only of Matylda. Of the feel of Matylda’s magic. Of the connection remaining strong and intertwined.

Finally, she willed that into being.

And that’s how magic worked.

She lost the sensation of intertwining magic, and slowly became aware that she was back. She hadn’t been aware that she’d been gone, but now, now the reality of her surroundings intruded. She’d been drifting. She wondered how long. She couldn’t hear John. She was sure she’d heard him before—

She realized suddenly that she was cold. Her fleece jacket was insufficient to ward off the suddenly lowered temperature. She tried to open her eyes and blinked. They
were
open. A tiny kernel of fear began to unfurl in her chest. It was dark, incredibly dark. Where the hell was she? She thought frantically back. What exactly had she done?

Oh my god. I’m in the wall.
What the hell had she been thinking? And where was Matylda? And where
the hell
was the light? She hadn’t moved. She’d been disoriented at first, then paralyzed by fear. If she took a step, what would she find?

She could feel herself getting light-headed. Her fear turning to full-blown panic. Her breath was coming in short gasps. She could not pass out. Not here. There was no one to save her, wherever she was.

No one but her, dammit. She tried to slow her racing thoughts. Her breathing was next. She tried desperately not to think about whether there was any ventilation. The space felt small and close to her. The air stale, with a sickly sweet taste. Light. She needed light. How could she make light? Wards shone brightly when they were viewed through her magical lens.

She tried to detect any existing wards. No luck. She dug in her pocket for a handkerchief. Her mother made them for her, so she could hardly insult her mom and the environment by using tissues—could she? She found the tiny bit of embroidered linen stuffed in her jeans pocket. She took it out and unfolded it, thought for a second, then cast one of the few wards she was familiar with. A sensing ward may not be that helpful when attached to a small bit of cloth, but like any ward, it lit up and provided a small light source. Having just learned and practiced sensing wards, she created one attached to the hanky—carefully.

Lizzie’s breath caught so suddenly that she choked, gasping for air. Matylda. Or what was left of her. Lizzie wasn’t sure how she knew, but she was certain. An overwhelming sadness engulfed her. Matylda had died in this room, all alone.

The very faint, sickly sweet smell that had nagged at her and caught in the back of her throat took on a more sinister cast—human decomp. She shook herself.
She
wasn’t dying in this room. She turned her attention to her surroundings. She’d find a way out. And if not, by damned, they’d beat that wall down until she was out. She knew her wolf. He wouldn’t leave her in here.

She could just make out four walls. The ward was bright but didn’t illuminate very far. She squinted and calculated. The room couldn’t be more than six feet by six feet. She scanned quickly past Matylda’s remains, propped partially in a chair. Behind the chair was a very small table. Lizzie forced herself to take a step closer. The ward light was bright but didn’t illuminate like a lantern, outward in an even wash of light. And speak of the devil. Not a lantern, but a candle. She lit it using the flint left on the table. It took several tries, but she finally had a tiny flame.

And wouldn’t you know, behind the table, illuminated now by the candles glow, was a niche in the wall with several books. Lizzie wondered now about the dry air in the small chamber. Did that occur naturally? Or had the mysterious Kovar family done something to the chamber to make it more hospitable for the few books stored here? She cast a quick glance at Matylda. And maybe that was why she appeared to be mostly intact. Her skin was stretched and tight. She looked small and shrunken, with small bits of cloth clinging to her body and scattered around her on the ground. Lizzie’s eyes welled with tears.
Oh, Matylda. What happened to you?

Lizzie wiped at the faint wet marks on her cheeks. Now wasn’t the time to be crying. Especially not over Matylda, gone a hundred or more years now. Speaking of—where the hell was she? She’d brought Lizzie here and then disappeared. Maybe Matylda had been exhausted by the effort? That didn’t seem right. Lizzie thought back to her first fade. And “fade” was the right word. Teleport, her ass. She’d simply drifted or faded away. Then she was back again—but somewhere else. She still wasn’t sure that she actually had the talent. Matylda had played a huge role. Lizzie certainly wasn’t keen to try it on her own. What if she faded away and didn’t come back? Her whole body shivered at the thought, starting with a creep in her scalp and then slithering down her back.

But she was pretty confident that it was
her
magic that got her here. Matylda did the driving, but Lizzie was the engine. So Matylda shouldn’t have exhausted herself. And suddenly, she was there. Lizzie could feel her presence.

“You scared me like you wouldn’t believe, Matylda. I hope that wasn’t your intent.” Lizzie didn’t expect an answer. So when a small object nudged at her hand and fell to the ground, she was surprised. She kneeled down and retrieved it. A sapphire ring with diamond accents, Lizzie guessed. A gift? Meant as an apology? No.
Aha.
Just like the pebble and the poker chip—a small, easily moveable object.

“All right, Matylda. But if you throw this anywhere near me, you’ll do some damage. So be careful.”

She thought for a moment, then—carefully moving past Matylda’s remains—she grabbed the books from the niche above the desk. She counted them. Seven books, of varying sizes and colors. Moving as far from the desk and Matylda as she could, she created two stacks of books. The stack on the left was low, with the three thinnest books. The stack on the right held the remaining books and was taller. She placed the candle in between the two stacks. Then she thought a moment and grabbed one of the books off the low stack, making it even lower. Flipping quickly through the book, she settled on a page and placed it typeface up, open on the ground.