Spirited Legacy (Lost Library) (23 page)

“Understood,” Harrington replied. Lizzie guessed that meant the books wouldn’t be destroyed. “The necromancy and Vampyr books?” he prompted.

Pilar sat straighter in her chair and clasped her hands in front of her, as if steeling herself for an unpleasant task. And in that moment, Lizzie realized, maybe Pilar felt the same way that she did. Not guilty about Sarah, more an assumption of responsibility. An acknowledgment that
someone
had to make her a priority. That Sarah was important and that she wouldn’t be a forgotten casualty of their rescue.

And there was another important point that Lizzie had overlooked.
She
hadn’t been rescued.
They
had. Both of them. This was Pilar’s story as much as her own. Lizzie frowned. More so, actually. Pilar had been held longer than Lizzie. Her beloved daughter captured and detained by truly terrifying people. And amidst it all, Pilar had made time for Lizzie, had tried to teach her. Hell. It was Pilar who had figured out that her magic was blocked. She was an amazing woman.

“There were some concerning pieces of information in the necromancy books. They’ll certainly require additional study—much like the death magic books. The Vampyr books, however, stand apart. Matylda was convinced they would be the most useful in aiding Sarah, and I have to agree. I see strong parallels between the Vampyr’s and Worth’s attacks.” She looked to Heike for support of her conclusion.

Heike said, “The first book showed the aftermath of a Vampyr attack. We missed some of the relevant pieces of information initially, likely due to the graphic nature of the images recorded. The family were magic-users. You can actually see what remained of the wards protecting the home, if you look closely enough. The attackers were either very sophisticated casters or had a top-notch caster aiding them. The family’s protection had been deconstructed. Conceptually, it’s a simple work-around for a ward but quite difficult in its execution. And the family would certainly have known the attack was happening.”

Lizzie shook her head slowly, trying to process the implications. “So the family members were magic-users? And they were warned? But….” Her words trailed away.

“I don’t think you’ve ever understood how powerful your magic is, Lizzie.” Pilar spoke directly to her in low tones. Funny, really. Almost everyone in the room had super-hearing, so trying to speak privately was a joke. A little louder, at a normal, conversational volume, she said, “Even forewarned, the family had no opportunity to escape.”

Pilar’s comment was not helping. Her distress must have been clearly written across her face, based on Heike’s next words.

Heike spoke tentatively now, as if she wasn’t sure what to say but felt obligated to speak. “There’s little doubt—it was all very fast. Once they were inside the house, the family wouldn’t have had much time. From the wounds—well, it would have been over quickly.”

“That’s some comfort, I suppose,” Lizzie said. She felt foolish for such a response, for being so upset by something that had taken place hundreds of years earlier. But she couldn’t change how she felt. At least she still found the images disturbing. How much more death and blood would she have to see before it
stopped
upsetting her?

Pilar returned to the books. “The second book records a caster’s first experiences as a Vampyr. The high he experienced the first time he ingested blood soaked with a dying man’s magic. The difficulties he had ingesting human blood, regurgitating the blood almost as quickly as he consumed it. Also, his frustration as his victims’ magic unwound itself from the blood in their bodies, sometimes before he could harvest the blood. He struggled with tying the magic firmly to the blood, to make it more readily accessible.”

Lizzie looked appalled. “Are you telling me that those people’s blood acted as a medium to carry the magic the Vampyr actually wanted?” Lizzie’s voice started to shake. “That the Vampyr hadn’t perfected their technique, hence all the blood?”

“We think so,” Heike said. “I know the images were terrible—”

Pilar placed a hand on Heike’s arm, quieting her. “It makes sense that Worth solved the problems that are discussed in the book. Either through experimentation or research. Because there are too many similarities between our Vampyr caster’s experiences and what happened to Sarah.”

John had been silently watching the proceedings. Now he turned to the dragons and said, “Lachlan mentioned a group of men who drank the blood of their slain enemies. That they believed drinking the blood would allow them to steal their enemies’ magic. What about that group? Any connection to Vampyr? To this caster whose book we’ve got now?”

Lachlan replied, “The men I described were considered cannibals and their acts determined to be against the natural order of magic and man. They assumed the name Vampyr. Though they were more like a movement or an organization, unlike the myths that portray them as a type of magic-user. Any magic-user type could be found among the Vampyr. Casters, Lycan.” A look of acute distaste crossed Lachlan’s features. “Even healers, if such an abomination is imaginable.”

Harrington’s typically neutral expression was showing distinct signs of cracking into interest. “What became of them? IPPC has no record of Vampyr.”

Lachlan’s expression firmed, his green eyes hinting at the fire deep inside. “We hunted them into extinction several hundreds of years ago.” In moments like this, Lizzie could easily believe Lachlan hid a mouthful of vicious teeth and rock-hard scales.

Lizzie was starting to wonder more and more about those glowy green dragon eyes. She shivered a bit, then snuck her hand under the table searching for John’s fingers. Once she found his hand, she twined her fingers in his. He glanced down at her, worry clear on his face. She just shook her head once and turned back to Lachlan. She had no problem at all with her boyfriend turning into a fluffy tailed, monster-sized wolf, but fiery, glowing eyes were a little freaky. Her mind was a mystery.

“I’d thought their methods had been lost with them. Until now.” That was the sound of a pissed off dragon, Lizzie thought. She glanced at Lachlan’s eyes. Yep, fiery green. She was starting to wonder if no one else saw that. She’d have to remember to ask John later.

“And Sarah? How does this aid in discovering some kind of cure?” Harrington asked.

Pilar checked her watch. “I’d hoped Harry would arrive by now. We’ve been updating him on what we’ve found, and he’s had a few thoughts.”

“And what were Harry’s thoughts?” Harrington did not sound enthusiastic. Downright disapproving, in fact.

Lizzie wondered what had caused such strife between the two. Surely the breadth of Harrington’s disappointment and disapproval couldn’t be solely due to Harry’s refusal of an IPPC position.

Harry breezed in, right on cue. “Replace what was taken. Replenish her core magic.” He stopped, looking for an open seat. Finding none, he grabbed a chair and dragged it to the table. “Apologies for my tardiness. My flight was delayed.”

Once seated, he kept speaking, as if he’d not been late and there was no awkwardness between him and his uncle. Maybe there wasn’t on Harry’s side. He was an odd duck. A cute, frenetic, brilliant guy. But absolutely an odd one. “The challenge is in determining how to affect the replacement. If we can determine how the magic was removed, then the chance of reversing the process is much improved.”

Max had been silent up to this point, but he was troubled enough by something that he raised his hand up a few inches to catch everyone’s attention. “Maybe I’m the only one seeing a flaw in that—but where exactly does this core magic come from that you’ll be putting back into Sarah? I mean, Worth made off with whatever he took from her, right? It’s not like he’s going to swing by and make a donation. So even assuming you figure out the
how
of this process, where do you get the juice?”

Harry smiled. “Excellent question. Braxton solved that problem for us quite nicely.”

John looked up in surprise when his name was mentioned. “Me?”

“The night Sarah was injured, Worth attacked three people: Sarah, John, and Moore. The result of each attack was different. Based on the reports and a physical examination of Sarah and Moore, the conclusion that I’ve drawn is that the quantity of magic Worth siphoned was the determining factor. With only three subjects, it’s impossible to be sure, but it does make sense.”

John had assumed a thoughtful expression. “I’m not sure about Sarah and Moore. I do remember being—” John stopped, as if choosing his next words carefully. “I was very concerned. I thought I’d lost the ability to shift.”

“And I remember the feel of the magic moving through the connection. It felt Lycan,” Lizzie said.

“And it’s these impressions that lead you to believe that only a small amount of magic was taken from John, explaining his full and rapid recovery?” Harrington attempted to clarify.

“Correct. More was taken from Sarah, resulting in a coma. And even more from Moore, resulting in death.” Harry looked pleased with the conclusion, but Lizzie still wasn’t exactly sure what that meant.

“I won’t approve such a risky procedure,” Harrington said.

Now Lizzie was really confused. What was Harrington talking about? And why the stare down between him and Harry?

Heike shared her confusion, probably less aware of the conflict between the two men. “I don’t understand. What’s the problem?”

Max answered before either of the two men, currently staring each other down, could reply. “Donors. Volunteers. Each person only giving a little, so that none suffer ill effects.”

Harry looked away from Harrington casually, as if nothing had happened. He smiled at Max. “Exactly. Preferably spell caster donors, in case there’s a compatibility issue.”

Max cocked his head thoughtfully. “That sounds a lot like a blood transfusion.”

Harry assumed a professorial tone and was settling in for a lengthy explanation. “We don’t actually know how much of a role magic plays in the normal functions of the body. But we do know that it becomes intertwined with the body on a very basic level, and that’s expressed in different ways depending on the particular talents of the person. Lycan, for example, heal themselves with their magic. Is it possible that magic, like blood, flows throughout the body carrying some vital components that feed our magic needs? Why not?” Lizzie looked around. If she had to guess from the reception Harry’s speech was getting, magic-users didn’t get much insight into how their magic worked.

“I can tell you that magic is not static, it ebbs and flows. And it certainly moves throughout the body. Even the least talented healer can tell you as much. A much more challenging and interesting question relates to volume and quality. Unlike blood in a human body, the magic each person possesses can vary in its strength and quantity. One person’s normal levels of magic could be significantly higher than another person’s, because they generate more magic more frequently. And since our magic is not contained within a closed system—one significant difference from blood—some magic-users leak unused magic. It’s one of the easiest ways that healers can identify a magic-users talent type.” Harry blinked. Then he gave a sheepish grin. “Sorry. I get a bit carried away.”

Surprisingly, it was Harrington who spoke for the group. “Not at all. Useful information.” Then he frowned and said, “I still find the idea of experimenting on Sarah and several hapless volunteers unacceptable.”

Ewan, who’d been silent for the duration of the meeting, added, “I agree.” He looked at Heike briefly. Lizzie was startled by the intensity of the look between the two of them. Clearly intended to be private, it was scorching. “It’s hardly safe.”

“The question remains, how do we remove magic from one person and give it to another?” Max asked.

“Worth.” John looked annoyed that he opened his mouth.

“Agreed.” Lachlan spoke, but several other heads at the table nodded curtly in agreement. “Given Worth’s fascination with finding the Lost Library, I find it not unlikely that he discovered other spelled texts.”

“And?” Harrington prompted him.

“And if we can’t get the information out of Worth, perhaps we get the information from Worth’s source,” Max answered, looking at Lachlan for confirmation. As Lachlan offered a small smile, Max continued. “He’s liquidated several assets, and he’s gone into hiding.” Max turned to Harrington. “Your people are surely still working on locating assets?”

Harrington responded in the affirmative. “They are and they have. I’ve got half a dozen possible locations. All were buried even deeper in a series of complex transactions, the sole intent of which was to obscure the buyer. But we need weeks, maybe months to determine which locations, if any, he’s actively using. If we’re not careful, we’ll spook him and he’s in the wind again.”

Ewan cleared his throat. Not an attention getting sound. More an embarrassed, damn-I-have-to-speak-now sound. “Uh, I may be able to help. That’s actually why I’m here at the meeting today. Lachlan asked that I come and offer my—” He halted mid-sentence, reluctant and pissed. He looked at Lachlan, who gave a nasty snarl. Lizzie did a double take. What the hell was that? “I’m to offer my tracking skills.”

Harrington looked intrigued. Never a good sign, in Lizzie’s opinion. Lizzie stopped and had to laugh a little at herself. She wasn’t biased, or anything. She was still pissed about Harrington springing Heike on her. But at least she was big enough to admit that she was seeing Harrington through a very skewed lens these days. The asshole.

“Scent tracking?” John asked.

“Magical tracking, I suppose you could say,” Lachlan replied for Ewan, who was still looking ticked. “Ewan says the stink of Worth’s magic is still all over this place. So no problem finding trace magic to work off of.”

“So not all dragons track?” John looked confused.

“We can smell prey from miles away, little wolf. It’s magical tracking that is unique.”
Uh oh.
“Little wolf” was never a good sign. Lizzie squeezed John’s hand. Hard. Well, as hard as she could. But he’d locked in on Lachlan.

Lycan were preternaturally strong and violently efficient in a fight. She’d seen John in action. It wasn’t at all like what she’d expected. Quiet, no fuss. Just vicious clawing, crushing, and shaking. She’d come to terms with that aspect of John’s life much more quickly than she could ever have hoped. Circumstances had helped, since he’d routinely been saving her life whenever someone’s butt was being kicked. But imagining her wolf up against a dragon—not good, was her conclusion. She knew she was being an unsupportive little wolfy-wife, but it didn’t change the conclusion. Not good.