Spirited Legacy (Lost Library) (6 page)

Before they left, she and John had discussed the pack book. She hadn’t had the time or energy in the last few days to begin pulling information from the spelled book. She’d been just a little distracted by John, and she’d also been recovering from some serious sleep deprivation after her kidnapping.

Now that she’d have some time, she could start delving into the Texas Pack’s history. She figured the risk in traveling with the book was minimal if she was discreet. John didn’t have a problem with it, and neither had Harrington. She’d even chatted with Harrington about detecting spelled books and had received her first mini-mentor session. She’d learned that a spell caster could use a special sensing ward to detect a spelled book, but they’d have to know to look.

It was past time she made the pack book a priority. The book had brought John and her together, initially. It was his search for the book that had brought him to her doorstep. She smiled, remembering the first impression John had made. Rude, pushy—and incredibly hot. All bulging biceps and determined persistence. She hadn’t actually liked him all that much. She glanced at his very dear—currently tinged with green and quite pale—face. She couldn’t believe how much her feelings for him had changed over such a short time. Well, except for the incredibly hot part. Those feelings were pretty consistent.

Given her recently acquired magic, she
finally
had the power to read the book. After two years trying to make something out of the shifting words, she was ready to kick that book’s butt. Or maybe to ask very nicely if it would spill its secrets. Spelled books could be finicky about when, how, and to whom they gave their information.

Lizzie took a second to look around. Off-season, the seats around them were sparsely filled. The closest passenger was one row up and on the other side of the aisle, a young guy with headphones firmly planted in his ears and his eyes closed.

She ran her hand lightly down John’s arm. She hated to disturb him, but his color was looking slightly better—and she needed a second opinion.

His eyes blinked open, slowly focusing on her. She’d told him on another flight they’d shared that when she used to get motion sickness, letting herself fall asleep for a few minutes on takeoff and landing would frequently take care of it. Apparently he’d decided to give it a try.

“I hate to bring it up—but have you considered Dramamine?” Seeing his color continue to improve, she moved her hand from his arm down to his hand. She briefly clasped his warm dry fingers.

“Doesn’t work.” He twined his fingers with hers. “The catnap might work, though. So far, so good. What’s up?”

“I wondered what you thought about me using this time on the plane to do a little
research
.” She raised her eyebrows, trying to hint that research referred to the book.

“Worst super-spy ever,” he said dryly. Since it wasn’t the first time he’d told her so, she wasn’t shocked.

“And?”

“And—feel free. It’s just a book.” He leaned back in his seat, tipping his head back against the headrest and closing his eyes. His fingers remained clasped firmly around hers.

Lizzie decided a small nap before she started with the book wouldn’t hurt. Especially since this was an overnight flight. If she didn’t get some sleep, her visit with Sarah and making her connection would be rough.

Hmmm.
She felt warm. She rubbed her cheek against soft cotton. And hard chest. She took a deep breath of—John. Her eyes popped open. Tipping her head back, she looked up into bright blue eyes. Lord, she loved his eyes. Not a washed-out blue or a gray-blue, but a richer color. She took another breath. John always smelled like cloves, minty toothpaste, and a unique musky smell that made her think of warmth and man. Clean man.

John hugged her closer for a brief second, and then he removed his arm from around her shoulders.

She looked down and saw he’d flipped up the armrest between them. And she’d gained a blanket at some point. After a jaw-cracking yawn, she came to the conclusion that she might have slept a little longer than she planned.

Before she had a chance to check the time, John said, “We have another three or four hours before we arrive.”

She stretched her legs out, pointed and lifted her toes a few times, and rolled her shoulders. “Did I mention how grateful I am for my first-class upgrade?”

“You might have. It was purely selfish.” John rolled the shoulder that Lizzie had used as her pillow. “I don’t fit in coach.”

Lizzie stopped stretching to admire his broad shoulders and tall frame. “No, I don’t suppose you do.” She frowned. “Do we have shared assets? Because you seem to fling around first-class tickets and even private plane charters pretty casually. Am I rich?” She grinned at him.

That elicited a loud laugh. “Did you win the lottery? Or come into an unexpected inheritance?”

She let out a huge, put-upon sigh. “No.”

“That’s your answer then.” John grinned, pulled her to him and kissed her so thoroughly she forgot what she’d been teasing him about.

She felt like fanning herself but settled for yanking off the blanket she’d been huddled under while she slept. “I’ll be right back. I think I’ll have a look at that research when I get back.”

When she returned, she found John engrossed in what looked like work. He was a statistician and had his own market research firm. Since Lizzie had known him, he would periodically pull out his laptop or a stack of papers and work intently for hours at a time. Then the work would disappear and he’d never mention it. Since his job didn’t sound incredibly fascinating and he wasn’t keen on sharing the details of his work with her, she was okay with that. But, eventually, she should probably figure out exactly what it was a market research firm did. And what that had to do with stats.

He’d also pulled the pack book out of the carryon he’d stashed in the overhead bin for her. She almost had to laugh at herself. He could open every door, pay for every meal, carry her heavy bags, get things off tall shelves, and reorganize her garage. And she would smile and say thank you every time. She was a Texas girl at heart, and she enjoyed the fact that John was nice. He was polite. He was thoughtful. But then he’d do something completely asinine, like make an
important
decision without her.

She picked up the book and planted her butt back in her cushy first-class seat. Book in hand, her thoughts turned more serious. They had barely scratched the surface with the talk about mates earlier. She needed a handbook. She blinked, looked down at the book in her hand, and blinked again. She was a complete idiot. If not a handbook, she had a resource. Although, to give John some credit, it sounded like his pack—their pack?—had changed significantly in a positive way since the last entry must have been made in the book.

She ran her hand across the soft leather of the cover. It sounded like the book had gone astray before Logan’s tenure as Alpha, and that had been forty or more years ago. Not a bad place to start.
When was the last entry?

Lizzie glanced at John, and she nudged him with her foot. When he glanced up, she said, “You’re sure—”

But before she could finish her question, John interrupted her. “Yes.”

He leaned over so his lips were next to her ear. So close, that she could feel the soft exhalation of his breath with each word. “The plane won’t explode if you use magic,” he whispered. “And no one is popping out of the aisle to snag the book.”

“Am I that paranoid?” She couldn’t prevent the sheepish look that crossed her face.

“Hmm.” And that noncommittal noise was all the answer she got. John was already typing away on his laptop. Diplomatic of him. There really wasn’t a good response to that question, because clearly the honest answer was “yes.” She mentally shrugged. Who could blame her after all the craziness she’d seen and experienced recently?

She’d always had magic, but it had been locked away. She hadn’t known she had it, hadn’t even known magic existed. So when it became paramount that she unlock and use her magic, she hadn’t even a hint how to do so. With the help of Pilar—another kidnapped spell caster held by Worth—she reacquired her magic. Then Pilar had given her a crash course in how to use magic, or Magic 101, as Lizzie liked to think of it. Pilar had broken the process down into three easy steps. Primarily because they both anticipated she’d be under great stress when she would be using her magic. Not having grown up with magic, she’d desperately needed the Cliff’s Notes version.

Step one was to reach inside herself and find her magic. When she’d first tried several days ago, she hadn’t known what she was looking for and it had been difficult—like her magic was reluctant to emerge or was buried deep inside. Then her magic had practically dripped from her fingers—too accessible—and making her worry she’d create some kind of magical disaster. But in the last several days, she felt like she’d gotten to know that part of herself a little. Her magic was there, but it wasn’t burbling like frothy champagne. Settling deeper into the roomy first-class seat, she hunted for the pulsing, glowing, warm bit of herself that was her magic. Eyes closed, she breathed out a small sigh of satisfaction as she found it.

Second, she had to create a clear mental picture of exactly what she wanted. The one successful experience she’d had trying to pull information from a book, she’d found that crafting the most precise question wasn’t always the most productive option. It was more feeling than logic—so annoying. She wasn’t getting any vibes, so she just asked what she wanted to know.
When was the last entry?
And then—step three—she pushed. Pilar called it exerting will, but it felt like a mental shove to Lizzie.

Lizzie’s eyes popped open. “John?”

He stopped typing and turned to her. “Find something interesting?”

She nodded. “When did you say the book had gone missing?”

Small creases appeared at the corners of John’s eyes. Worry or concentration—Lizzy wasn’t certain which. After giving the question some consideration, he said, “It’s difficult to say. Certainly, it wasn’t in our possession in 1980.”

“Wasn’t that a little before your time?” At his confused look, she clarified. “It’s just, you have such a specific time reference. And you were only around five at the time.”

“My uncle assumed control in ’79. The transition was not a peaceful one. I’m not sure of many details prior to that year.” His responses were choppy with pauses between each sentence. He’d also become more distant as he spoke, his gaze drifting out the window.

Curiouser and curiouser. But if he didn’t want to discuss it— “There’s an entry from a little over two years ago.”

His head whipped around. “What does it say?”

Lizzie closed her eyes, whispering the words as they came to her. “I can only hope as I pass along this beautiful burden that the book’s next home will bring it closer to the Pack, it’s one true home. I wish you everything that is good, Elizabeth, as you assume from me this gift, this burden.”

She opened her eyes to find John studying her intently.

“I had no idea,” she said.

He frowned in confusion. “About what?”

“Who had it before? That she knew me? Why she picked me?” She chewed her lip. “You just look a bit peeved, so I thought I’d assert my innocence and ignorance proactively. You know, cover my butt.” Okay, she was rambling. He smiled. More than that, muscles taut with tension eased. “No need on my account. I like a bare ass as much as the next guy.”

He’d pitched his voice low, and she was certain no one else had heard. She still blushed a fiery red.

Chapter 8

M
emories of his father, who was Alpha before Logan assumed control of the Pack, pressed in on John. But Lizzie—curiosity and concern practically vibrating off her—brought him back to the present. He couldn’t resist teasing her. Or making her blush. His father was far, far in the past, and Lizzie was his Here and his Now. His smile widened.

“You know this means a—” She frowned in annoyance and lowered her voice still lower. “—
a person like me
was in possession of the book, at least for a little while, before it landed in my mailbox.”

A single huff of a half laugh escaped. He couldn’t help finding her efforts at discretion and secrecy laughable. She was terrible at covert ops.

“What’s funny? That’s big news, right?” She glanced down at the book in her hands. She fingered the worn green edges thoughtfully.

He wiped the humor from his voice. “Absolutely. Completely unexpected, in fact. It begs the question why she didn’t return the book to the Pack, or seek us out.” This was the first effort Lizzie had made with the book since she’d had access to her magic. It was an important first step. And it begged the question—“What did you ask it?”

As John understood the process, the spell caster—who the Lycan called Record Keeper—formulated questions, and the book responded. Or it didn’t.

“I thought I might be able to use the book to answer some questions about
significant others
and their function in…your town.” She shook her head at him. “I know. Don’t start.”

Since he had no idea what she was talking about, he was content to remain silent.

“But then I realized the information might be out of date since it wasn’t clear when the book went missing.”

He nodded. “So you asked about the last entry. Which happened to be about you.”

“I get a sense of sadness from her. Maybe because she’s letting the book go?” Lizzie looked troubled. “I didn’t know these books could hold emotions.”

John tried to keep his voice light, but probably failed. He’d done the math, if the book had disappeared in the seventies, then…. “Or you’re getting some of her feelings for the Pack.”

Lizzie shot him a quick glance. “Something I should know?”

“Probably.” That didn’t mean he was ready to talk about it. “I do know that Logan claims there were no Record Keepers affiliated with the pack before or during his tenure as Alpha, so that takes us back to the fifties.”

“Eh. I’m not so sure.” At his raised brow, she clarified. “Naturally, that could be the case. But isn’t it also possible you didn’t know? How would you know? You only guessed I was a Record Keeper because I had the book.”