Defensive Magic: A Paranormal Urban Fantasy Tale (Lost Library Book 3) (26 page)

Ignoring her suggestive tone, he said, “Why the Texas Pack?”

“Ah. You assume I direct my own actions. I’m a big girl—but not quite that big. I’m under direct orders from Daddy. Now my turn. I’d like to retire, and Dad needs to go for that to happen. If I give you a time and place to ambush him, can you get the job done?”

Lizzie was dumbfounded. “Are you asking us to assassinate your father?”

“Assassinate, murder, kill. Whatever. As long as he no longer inhabits this plane of existence.” Margot’s gaze slowly traveled from Lizzie’s shabby shoes to her untamed hair. Nostrils flaring slightly, Margot said, “Are you in or out?” The question was most certainly directed to John.

“Why would we involve ourselves in your private family matters?” John tone was dismissive, and he turned to leave with his hand resting lightly on Lizzie’s back.

“Oh, really? You’d pass up such an opportunity?” But Margot spoke to their backs at this point. “He’s pushing for a conclusion.”

John paused but didn’t turn around. Lizzie followed his lead.

“That’s right, he’s marked you. If I don’t manage it, then another of his people will. Isn’t it better,” she whispered, “that he die before he can have you both killed?”

Turning around, John said simply, “In.”

As Margot scribbled on a piece of paper, Lizzie said—more to fill the awkward silence than out of true curiosity, “You’re young for retirement. What are you planning to do next?”

“Haven’t you heard?” She handed the scrap of paper to John and smiled slyly. “I’m a writer. My driver is picking up Worth and his men. This is the address and time.” She wrinkled her nose delicately. “I’m sending a driver I’m not particularly fond of, so—” She flicked her hand like she was shooing away a fly. “No need to be particularly careful. I won’t miss him.”

John placed his hand on Lizzie’s back and once again gently propelled her in the direction of the exit.

As John drove away from the coffee shop, it took Lizzie a few minutes longer before she could wrap her head around what had just happened. There could only be one explanation—a trap.

John ventured the first comment. “I smelled no lies.”

She’d been afraid of that. “Since I have the ability to manipulate scent, we can’t rule out the possibility that she can, too.”

“Did you see the ward? Or anything that confirms she was using a ward to manipulate her scent?”

“No.” Lizzie grabbed a mint angrily from her bag. “No.” She growled in frustration. “How is she doing it? She has to be lying.”

“Yeah,” John agreed. “It has to be a trap.”

“And the whole retirement thing—I definitely don’t believe that she’s retiring. Crime suits her so well.” She knew she was getting snarky, but she couldn’t seem to stop herself.

“Not that I’m arguing, but perhaps your motives in reaching that conclusion are suspect.”

She giggled. “Yeah. Having her lust after you right in front of me might have influenced my opinion. A little of that I get—you’re hot—but she was over the top.”

He smirked.

“You wanted to hear that I was jealous,” she accused. “I thought you were better than that.”

He just shrugged.

“Cute,” she replied. He was adorable when he stepped down to the level of mere mortals.

~*~

Margot watched the sickeningly sweet couple walk out the door. A phone call to her father informing him that IPPC spotted Sylvester in Manila followed by a guarantee of Worth’s safety in Vegas and her plan was well underway. Worth wouldn’t expect a significant magic-using presence in a dead zone, so it shouldn’t be difficult to sway him to come.

With a little luck, the convergence of Worth, Sylvester, Lizzie, and John in one location would result in all their deaths. But really, there was no down side. The death of any one of the players was a welcome outcome.

She smiled. And all this accomplished with so little risk to herself. She did love it when all of the pieces came together so nicely.

Chapter 32

O
nce they’d arrived at the hotel, John said, “We need to check in with Max and get the rest of the update on Vicky’s e-mails.”

Max picked up on the third or fourth ring. His voice was scratchy, and if John didn’t know better he’d say he’d just woken up. “Hey. Sorry. You got the text about the flight at three this afternoon? A friend’s private plane. Ben should know the airstrip,” he said, naming a local place they’d flown out of before.

“Yeah, we got it. Are you okay?” John had a suspicion that was firming up the more Max spoke.

“Yeah, fine.” Max’s reply was airy.

“Shit, Max. You slept with her?”

No doubt. John could hear the rustling of sheets in the background. A door opened and closed.

“I don’t need any shit from you about this. I’ve been chasing after Kenna for weeks, and she’s been treating me like shit.” In a frustrated voice, he said, “I’m actually single—not that you’d have known it lately.”

John sighed. “I get it. I’m talking about the timing. Just—today, of all days?”

Max lowered his voice and said, “I had an extra hour. As for the other…” He lowered his voice even more. “Yes to e-mail but no to phone.”

“And?”

Keeping his voice low, Max said, “Some sexually explicit emails between M_Domme88 and our gal, Vicky.”

“And you’re sure M_Domme88 is Margot?”

“Well, it’s clear M_Domme88 is the woman Vicky was meeting and who she was reporting info to. She never signs the e-mails, but it’s clear from the context. There are even some references to specific dates and places. There’s also a lot of them meeting, having rowdy sex, and revisiting those good times. Vicky was hooked. M_Domme88 wasn’t. Helpful?”

“Possibly. We’ve already made contact with Margot here. She was open about her position in Worth’s organization and her relationship with Worth—his daughter, if you can believe that. But it gets more complicated. I’ll fill you and Ben in this evening. We’re in rush.”

“Any reason? Do we have a date?” Max asked.

“Hmm. With Worth. Am I picking you up at the airport?”

“Holy shit. Uh—yeah, pick up would be good.” At least Max sounded awake now.

They exchanged pick-up details and John ended the call.

He was going through his mental to-do list, when he realized he hadn’t updated Lizzie on the witch scent he’d caught at the coffee shop. She’d lain down on the bed while he’d been chatting with Max. Her eyes were closed, but she was awake.

“You caught most of that?”

“Vicky was a closet lesbian and Max is a ho—that’s pretty much what I got.”

“Vicky was attracted to powerful people, regardless of sex,” John corrected. “But yes, Max is a ho. Can you blame him? Kenna has him tied up in knots.”

“I can blame him, but only because Kenna is my best friend and I think something strange is going on with her and Max. She won’t see him. Or talk to him.” She groaned in frustration. “Kenna is weird about him, and she’s never weird about her hookups.”

“Hey. I get it. I know her, too, remember?” John sat on the bed next to her. “But if she has a problem with Max moving on, too bad. She’s done everything but actually block his number and gotten a restraining order.”

Lizzie got that combination guilty and ashamed look that he was learning to know so well.

“Seriously? A restraining order?”

“Oh no,” she said quickly. “The other one. She definitely blocked his number.”

John shook his head. “Enough about their messed up, nonexistent love life. I wish we didn’t have better things to worry about, but since we do—let’s let them sort it out.”

“If they will,” Lizzie said, but she didn’t sound at all certain.

“I forgot to mention in the car—the witch scent that I was supposed to be looking for? It was there. It was actually all over the place, heavily layered throughout the shop.”

Lizzie cocked her head.

John forgot sometimes that Lizzie didn’t think in terms of scent. “Ah—layered, meaning lots of it, all different ages. So our witch comes and goes a lot. It looks like Margot and the witch meet at the coffee shop regularly. The coffee shop could function as a type of headquarters. And he’s been in the coffee shop frequently. Hard to pinpoint when because there was so much of his smell.”

“He was just in Smithville, so maybe he came here after Gregor’s challenge failed?” Lizzie thought for a second. “You’re concerned he’s in Vegas now.”

“I am. Because it looks like our air witch might act as a bridge between a magic-user and his target. If he can facilitate long distance healing, then it could work with other talents. Can he operate at a distance greater than you can sense him?”

“Yeah, that would be a problem. Whoa—wait a minute. Do you think that Margot and her witch created that massive sensing ward together?”

“Do you?”

“Hmm. But hHHow?” Lizzie asked. But she wasn’t asking him. She was looking off into the distance at nothing in particular.

“We need more information. We’re just guessing at this point.” Watching her closely, he said, “Can you call Kenna’s mom?”

Lizzie huffed out a frustrated breath. “I call her all the time, so—sure. Can my twenty-something-year-long relationship with my best friend’s mom handle me quizzing her about witch stuff?” She shook her head. “I have no idea.”

“You won’t know unless you ask,” John said, striving for a practical response. “And if it helps, you’re not asking your best friend’s mom. You’re the Alpha Mate utilizing a witch contact living within Pack boundaries.”

“Right,” she said, slowly nodding her head.

John wasn’t sure if Lizzie was more upset about Kenna’s mom being a witch because it turned her familiar world upside down or because she had to keep such a devastating secret from her best friend. He watched her slowly pick up her cell and hesitate before tapping the screen. But it was certainly causing her grief.

“Gwen, it’s Lizzie. I’m so glad I caught you. Do you have a minute? I’ve got a few…um, technical questions.” Lizzie stumbled over the question.

Gwen must have agreed, because Lizzie placed her phone on the desk and asked, “Have you ever seen a witch work with another talent type?”

“Hmm. Do you want to know if it ever happens or if it’s common?”

Lizzie looked at him and he shrugged in response.

“I guess if it’s possible. We—John and I—think we ran into a witch working with a healer. To make the healer’s talent reach farther. An air witch, we think.” When Gwen didn’t immediately respond, Lizzie added, “It looked like magic—healing magic—soaked into the subject’s skin, like it was all around him. But there was also a tether between the witch and the subject.” She closed her eyes and a small wrinkle formed right above the bridge of her nose. “I think the tether got wider as it came closer to the subject and then enclosed him.”

“You can see magic?” Gwen asked, her voice curious.

“With a sensing ward, very occasionally without.”

“Ah. Of course—I’m a little familiar with sensing wards. What you describe, I’ve never seen that. But I also can’t see magic like you’re describing. Magic for me is more a tactile sensation. Give me a second.” Background noise came through the speaker, then silence. “Okay, try this out for size. Your healer concentrates on the subject and his injury. Especially skilled healers can assess injuries at a distance. He remotely diagnoses, prepares to heal, then he releases that magic. Your air witch captures it on a magic—well, wind, for lack of a better word. So you’ve got a magically charged wind moving toward your subject. When it reaches the injured target, the magic is released, healing the injured target. Voila, distance healing. What do you think?”

Lizzie laughed. “I think that sounds incredibly clever and useful. You think that’s what was happening?”

A short silence was followed by a decisive, “Yes. Yes, I think it was.”

John asked, “If combining healing magic and witch magic is possible, then you’re saying different types of magic can combine to create a unique result that might be otherwise impossible?”

“Ah. Now that is the question, Alpha. That’s where you start treading the line into Big Magic.”

“Harrington mentioned that as well. He made it sound like a really bad, super scary thing.” Lizzie frowned. “That came out wrong. He made it sound like nuclear war, not like Red Riding Hood’s wolf. Sorry—I’m a little on edge.”

“Nuclear energy isn’t a bad comparison. A useful and powerful tool that can have serious side effects and is susceptible to catastrophic failure.”

John said, mildly annoyed, “But what
is
it?”

Gwen replied, “Theoretically? The combination of magic by several magic-users that creates a result that is greater than the magic contributed by the individuals. But it’s not been done in recent history.” Gwen sighed. “What you’re describing is close, but it lacks the exponential amplification found in Big Magic.”

John looked at Lizzie and mouthed, “The sensing ward.”

She nodded to John, then said, “So—what else do you know about Big Magic? Maybe how to identify it? Really, anything might be helpful.”

“Gosh, not much,” Gwen said. “I think it would take more than just two magic-users working together—but I’m guessing.” She paused. “There are some rumors that Big Magic gone awry can create a dead zone. One thing I know, most magic-using communities have some kind of taboo or outright prohibition against collaborative magic. Minimally, magic-users are very cautious when combining their talents.”

Lizzie asked, “So it isn’t typical to see a healer and witch or a spell caster and a witch working together?”

“No, not typical. And as for witches and spell casters… You’re a lovely girl, Lizzie. But, generally—historically—witches and spell casters do not mix well. I find that a harder combination to believe than your healer-witch scenario.”

“But—that can’t be right. I mean, Kenna and I have been friends forever.”

Gwen took an audible breath, but before she could reply—to reassure, explain, or incite, John wasn’t waiting to find out—he said, “Back to the bigger question. There’s a massive sensing ward stretched across Vegas, Gwen. We were thinking that maybe this sensing ward was boosted across a larger area by charging the air with the ward. A ward has to be attached to a physical object. But with an air witch’s help, why not to the air itself?”