Defensive Magic: A Paranormal Urban Fantasy Tale (Lost Library Book 3) (19 page)

John blushed slightly. “Sorry. I meant to tell you last night, but you were asleep when I got home.”

Blushing? Really?

When he still didn’t explain, she said, “Okay. So, who’s Vicky?”

He tipped his head back against the headrest and closed his eyes. After a few seconds, he turned to her and said, “An ex. She wrote the note.”

The note? “Oh. Ooooh.”

“Yeah.” He reached up to rub his neck. “I had some suspicion but didn’t think she was capable of something so stupid. My mistake. Ben picked her up last night after I got confirmation that she was responsible. He’s got her locked up at his house.”

“Seriously? What the hell is he thinking? No—never mind. I don’t want to know.”

“Max?” John caught Max’s eye in the rearview mirror. “Go ahead and head to your house. I want to drop you off. Lizzie and I need to do this alone.”

“You got it.”

Once they’d dropped Max off and were headed to Ben’s, Lizzie asked him, “Is this really a good idea? You lost a lot of blood. Shouldn’t you be resting—or something?”

“Probably. But this can’t wait. Can you dig around in that bag for some food? I should have some jerky and some protein bars.”

“Sure. So—ah, how long ago did you and this girl date?” Lizzie strove for nonchalant, but given the charged look John threw her way, she probably missed.

“First, we didn’t date. We had sex. Second, it was over a year ago.”

Lizzie chewed on her lower lip. After a few seconds, she said, “That’s a long time for her to hold a grudge.”

She waited. Silence followed. She almost growled in annoyed frustration. Either John was being deliberately obtuse or he was truly exhausted and not at his best.

Deciding to give him the benefit of the doubt, she asked patiently, “Do you know why she might have held a grudge for so long?”

“Other than an unfulfilled desire to be Alpha Mate of the Texas Pack?” John asked wryly. “Not really.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Sadly, no. The position was more appealing than I was. Not a huge boost to my ego—so no, I’m definitely not kidding.”

“I really, really don’t like this woman.” She handed him a protein bar, smacking him in the arm with it.

“We’re agreed on that.”

She left him to eat and strategize in peace for the rest of the drive. She didn’t need John to tell her that this meeting would not go well. At least she could pump him full of food before they arrived. She went back to the bag at her feet and started hunting for jerky.

Chapter 24

“B
en has a…” Lizzie hesitated. “A holding cell at his house?”

“The cage,” John confirmed.

“Where did you guys come up with that name?”

John gave her an amused look. “It’s actually a cage. Don’t look so appalled. It’s not used often, and only when necessary.” He sighed. “She ran, so Ben threw her in the cage until I could get here to question her. You ready for this?”

They’d arrived and were sitting in the driveway.

“I don’t suppose there’s any chance she’s unattractive?” Lizzie asked hopefully.

“No. Well, except for her personality, not unattractive.” He shook his head.

A girl had to ask. “Yeah—I figured. I’m ready. Let’s do this.”

It turned out that the cage was an eight-by-eight cell with a cot. Still incredibly bizarre, and there were definitely bars, but it wasn’t quite what Lizzie had envisioned. It was even somewhat hidden. A thorough investigation of the house would reveal the hidden entry to the room housing the cage, but she supposed it was covert. She felt just a little like “the Man.”

All of her fascination with the absurdness of the situation fled when she saw Vicky. Gorgeous, tall, thin, long blonde hair. And full of hate. The look on her face when she saw Lizzie enter the room was shocking in its virulence. And that look brought Lizzie back to the moment she found the scrap of paper. She’d held the echo of those hate-filled emotions in her hands. She’d forgotten how disturbing it had been. She’d moved beyond the feeling of having her home invaded, her privacy destroyed, and being threatened—until now.

“What did I ever do to you?” The words were out before she could recall them. The first thing she says to John’s ex-lover and Pack member, and she looks weak. Dammit. She needed to up her game.

Vicky’s lip curled. “You breathe.”

“Enough,” John growled.

Lizzie placed a hand on his arm. She hadn’t expected such overt hostility from the woman. The note she’d left had been unequivocal, but it had also been anonymous. But she could handle this. The woman had a problem specifically with Lizzie, so Lizzie should be the one to handle her.

She strove to keep her tone neutral. “You’re brazen for a woman locked in a cage. You’ve been found out. Your options are nonexistent.”

Vicky laughed. “Hardly. I’m not alone.” Then she pressed her lips together. A sign that she’d shared more than she intended to?

Then her comment registered. Not alone. As in, had accomplices, people who wanted to hurt her and maybe the Pack. Shit. She exchanged a look with John. She needed to be certain he was okay with her proceeding. The stakes had just been raised. She was certain that John hadn’t expected Vicky’s response.

She gathered as much calm as she could and dug deep for some acting skills. Kenna. She smiled. She’d channel Kenna. “John’s had a big day, and you’ve managed to push my buttons. So guess what?
I’m
going to ask you a few questions.”

Vicky didn’t say a word, but the contempt she felt was written across her face.

Lizzie smiled, lips stretched but devoid of any humor. “You’re right. I’m just a puny little human.”

She didn’t see this woman cooperating. If words didn’t work, maybe magic would make an impression.

“Recently, John and I encountered this incredibly effective ward. It’s a neat trick.” She continued, trying to sound conversational and hiding as best she could how flustered she’d become. “It traps all of the subject’s scent. But you’re already familiar with it, aren’t you? You used something similar when you planted that note in John’s home—in my home.”

Vicky looked at her like she’d lost her mind.

Lizzie cast a ward enclosing Vicky in a scent-capture bubble. Watching Vicky closely, she said, “I’ve tried to figure out how to replicate it, but I may not be quite clever enough to recreate it. I can’t seem to figure out how to trap the scent but still let air flow through.”

Lizzie saw the first signs of understanding pass across Vicky’s face. “You wouldn’t do that,” she said. But she didn’t look at all certain.

John crossed his arms, clearly already aware of what Lizzie had done.

“Right. I already have. I’ve never been brilliant at math, so I have no idea how long the air trapped inside with you will last.”

Vicky looked frantically at John. “You can’t let her do this.”

John shrugged. “You threatened her. What did you expect?”

Vicky’s eyes flitted between John and Lizzie, back and forth several times. She finally settled on Lizzie when she directed a question at her.

“Who’s helping you?”

Vicky shook her head slowly.

Lizzie turned to John. “What do you think? Does the bubble block scent?” She really hoped it did, because she knew she must reek like anxiety. She was pissed, but she didn’t want to actually
kill
anyone. Even this bitch.

“Works great. Well done,” he congratulated her.

He must have picked up on her concern. Tipping Vicky off that she was terrified probably wasn’t helpful. And she knew she must be leaking the scents associated with anxiety and fear.

Pivoting to face Vicky, she said, “Really, this is an excellent opportunity. I haven’t tried out this particular ward on anyone yet. I mean, I don’t want to accidently suffocate a volunteer, right?”

Vicky’s breaths were coming noticeably closer together. Whether from a dearth of oxygen or panic, Lizzie didn’t know or care.

“Who’s working with you?” she asked again.

Vicky shook her head. “She’s not Pack. I don’t know her name. I swear, I don’t. She approached me.”

A woman? She had to keep herself from looking at John for his reaction. Play it bland, unconcerned, she reminded herself.

“Lycan? Witch? Spell caster?”

“Spell caster,” Vicky gasped. “Average height, medium build, brown hair.”

“What were you given for your cooperation?”

She directed a venomous glare at Lizzie. “Your death.” Her breaths were shallow, almost pants. “And John.”

Lizzie couldn’t help a sidelong glance at John. The disgust on his face was clear. Vicky couldn’t miss it. How did she think that was going to work? Even with Lizzie gone, John would never… This woman was an idiot. Or blinded by her ambitions.

“What exactly did you tell her?”

“No. Not until you—” She crumpled, landing on the ground with a solid thud as her head hit the floor.

“Oh, shit,” Lizzie exclaimed. She dissolved the ward. She looked frantically at John. “I didn’t—”

He silenced her with an upheld hand, then tipped his head toward Vicky. She was already coming to.

Lizzie reached into her back pocket and touched the piece of paper she’d stashed there. She quickly cast a ward, using Matylda’s ring as an anchor. She looked at John for confirmation that the ward was working.

“All good.”

Vicky was disoriented, but awake. Better hit her now before she realized something was up. “What exactly did you tell her?”

“You bitch,” Vicky spat.

“A little suffocation, a peaceful death. Really not that bad of an option if you consider that John or Ben are likely to do much worse to you.” Lizzie smiled carefully. “And don’t think they won’t. Neither of them has any affection for you.”

“If I die either way—what do I care?” Vicky said, looking up from her position on the ground.

Lizzie glanced over her shoulder and saw that John’s intimidating stare had her pinned in place. She was glad he was on her side.

John quickly interjected, “No. Cooperate, and I’ll banish you.”

Lizzie tried to keep the surprise from her face. What the heck was banishment? She hadn’t heard that one yet.

Vicky’s face stiffened. “No deal.”

Okay—banishment sucked, Lizzie concluded. Oops, her turn. She lifted her hands. “I’ll just recast that ward then.”

“Wait.”

Lizzie paused with her hands lifted. She didn’t need her hands to cast, but figured it made for a good visual effect.

“John’s movements. When he was out of town and where, that kind of thing.” She paused. Then she smiled. “And I gave her some names. Evan, Alfred, Martha, Justin, the Kalfords, Janet. People who see you for what you’ve become, John. Weak.”

Lizzie curled her lip. “Are you sure I can’t just kill her?”

John raised an eyebrow. Turning to the woman on the floor, he said, “Where did you meet her? Not here, I assume.”

Vicky seemed to weigh her options, but cooperation must have won out, because she finally offered, “Dallas.”

“Ben will see you escorted out of the territory. I recommend Nevada as a final destination.”

Her nostrils flaring, she asked, “How long do I have?”

“Oh—you don’t. You’ll leave now. And you’ll leave your car and house keys with Ben.”

Right on cue, Ben walked in the front door. “I’ve got it, boss, if you want to head out. Scott’s right behind me.”

John nodded. As he turned to go, he touched Lizzie’s arm and she started for the door. Before they got to the door, Vicky called after them, “This could have ended differently. You could have done so much better.”

John just kept walking.

John’s truck was in the drive, Scott holding the door. “Figured you’d need a ride.”

John caught the keys Scott tossed at him and said, “Thanks.”

Once they were in the truck and on the way home, John said, “That was a little scary. I’ve never seen you lie so convincingly.” Apologetically, he said, “You’re usually a terrible liar.”

Her voice trembling, Lizzie said, “I’m not so sure I was lying.”

John pulled over to the shoulder. Once the truck was stationary, he said, “Give me your hand.” Pulling her hand to his lips, he kissed her knuckles. “I love you.”

Teary-eyed, she said, “I know.”

They sat in the car for several more minutes before he started the drive home again.

Chapter 25

L
izzie and John had been driving for a few minutes when she said, “I did have an unpleasant realization today. I’m actually pretty angry with my family for not preparing me for this life.”

John thought about what she was saying; then he asked cautiously, “Is this one of those times I’m supposed to be a sympathetic ear? Or do you want my opinion?” He saw her smile and relaxed a little. “I’m good either way—just checking.”

“And here I’ve been thinking you’re psychic. Have at it—tell me why I’m wrong.”

He shook his head. “You’re not wrong. You’re allowed to be angry. At your family. At the Pack. I think you know that.” He shot a quick glance at her. Eyes back on the road again, he said, “You’re more prepared for this life than most who grew up in the magic-using community. You were protected as a child. You have a loving family. You’re self-confident. And you have a strong moral compass.”

A small huff of air sounding a lot like a denial escaped her. “I watched three men die and used the magical equivalent of enhanced interrogation, all in one day. I’m not sure everyone would agree.”

“By the rules of our society, those three men were justly killed. And Vicky…well, she deserved worse. Think about this. Is it possible that growing up like you did—ignorant of the magic-using community—gave you a sense of security you might not have otherwise had? And maybe made you
more
able to cope with this world. Not to mention that growing up like you did made you the truly exceptional person that you are today. But yes, it also makes this life harder.”

“So I’m prepared—but it will sometimes suck,” she summarized. “That’s not really making me feel better. Although you can always tell me about my awesomeness. A girl can never hear enough of that.”

They drove in companionable silence for a few miles.

“Wait a second,” she said. “What if I need to talk to someone else? You know, like a counselor? Not that I do, but it has to happen occasionally. Or medical care. Lycan still get sick, right?”