Lost Library: An Urban Fantasy Romance (2 page)

S
he handed Kenna the Book.

“Look again. Please,
” she begged.

In the back of
her mind, the specter of mental illness slowly rose. It was shocking, really, that she had never seriously considered something was wrong with her. That someone might think she was crazy? Sure. But not that she actually
was
crazy. Not since that very first day when she received the Book. Wasn’t the total commitment to belief in the face of something so entirely abstract and unreal, evidence itself of mental illness? Lizzie’s hand went to her midriff as a sick feeling started in the bottom of her stomach.

As
Kenna’s hand closed on the Book, she made a small sound of pain and dropped it. Looking at the Book on the floor, she slowly rubbed her fingertips together.

“What—
” Lizzie began, but Kenna interrupted, the surprise on her face clear.

“I think your book has an alarm system
.” Kenna straightened and took a step back from the Book. 

“I have absolutely no idea what
you’re talking about.” Lizzie frowned in confusion. “Did it hurt you?”

Great.
Not crazy, just stupid.
She’d brought an evil and dangerous object into her best friend’s house and placed it directly into her hands. Excellent friendship skills officially displayed.

Both
women looked at the Book resting innocently on the patterned wool rug. Another moment of silence passed. Kenna seemed to be lost in thought.

When
she didn’t reply right away, Lizzie said, “Kenna? Hey.”

“No.
No, it didn’t hurt me. Not really.” She blinked a few times, as if clearing her head. “Before I touched it, it hummed or vibrated a little. Like a cell phone on silent. But then it was hot to the touch and the vibration increased.”

“It was hot but didn’t burn you?” Lizzie asked
, as she inspected Kenna’s hand.

“My hand
’s fine. As soon as I let go, the feeling stopped. Like no burn I’ve ever experienced, that’s for sure.” She waited patiently, hand held out, until Lizzie was done.

If Lizzie was looking for evidence of magic that would convince her friend, this was it. However unexpected it was.

Kenna reached down to pick up the Book again. Before she could pick it up, Lizzie said, “Do you think that’s a good idea?”

Kenna
replied with a shrug, “I have no idea. But it doesn’t actually hurt.” She looked down at the Book again.

“
I can’t see the words. You can’t feel the heat or vibration. Something bizarre is definitely happening with this book. Besides,”—she gave Lizzie a cheeky grin—“I may be
mostly
practical, but I find the idea of magic completely fascinating. So I’m willing to admit there may be mojo involved.”

Several trials later,
Kenna and Lizzie reached a few conclusions. Lizzie could pick up the Book with no effect, but Kenna experienced the “alarm.” Kenna described the pages inside as hazy. No words or characters were visible, the pages were simply unclear, like an out-of-focus picture.

After repeated trials with no new information,
they set the Book aside. Both were convinced that there was something unexplainable about the Book. Magic? Maybe. 

Kenna
spoke first. “We can’t tell anyone about this.”

Lizzie nodded emphatically.
“Agreed. They’d think we’re nuts.”

Kenna
nodded her head with a thoughtful look on her face. “Or want the book.”

Kenna
didn’t have to explain who “they” were. Bad-guy, magic people, the authorities… “They” could mean almost anyone, because a book like this held appeal and value for a vast array of individuals and organizations. She could only hope that her and the Book’s safety would be ensured through secrecy. She hadn’t really worried up till now, because the Book had been hers alone. It was as if by sharing it with Kenna, she had somehow let the secret out into the world to be discovered. Silly. But that was how she felt.

Kenna interrupted Lizzie’s troubled thoughts when she said, “
Have you thought about where it came from? Why it came to you?”

Lizzie rolled her eyes. “It’s been
two years. Of course I’ve thought about that. Also, what’s it for? What’s written in it? Are there other magical books? I stopped myself at some point, because the questions really can become all-consuming.”

“That book may have come to you for a reason. Until you either understand what’s in it or know why you have it, I think keeping it under wraps is a good idea
,” Kenna said.

“And if it’s dangerous?” Lizzie asked.
The question had been buzzing around in her brain ever since Kenna had set off the Book’s “alarm.”

“
You don’t truly believe that. If you did, you’d never have brought it here and invited me in on the secret.” Kenna paused and grinned. “Or you would have at least warned me first. And you have excellent instincts. ”

Lizzie hoped her instincts were correct this time.
Because Kenna was right. She didn’t sense anything evil or wrong in the Book.

A few
months passed without any significant progress. Occasionally, Lizzie caught a word out of the corner of her eye. But any focused attention produced the same disappointing result. The thrill of discovery—even discovery of magic—faded as time marched on and the book remained unreadable.

So on this particular and in every way unremarkable Tuesday, the wondrous and magical book
, with ever-changing text and a built-in alarm system, was gathering dust in the bottom drawer of her desk—the only drawer that locked. She still recognized its value, but simply couldn’t maintain a high level of enthusiasm in the face of no perceivable progress. The book had finally lost its proper pronoun status in Lizzie’s mind. A perusal of her log would show the last entry dated a good two weeks previous. Life had intervened in the guise of bills, work required to pay bills, dog walks, and the occasional margarita night with her girlfriends. So, while not forgotten, the book and magic was far from the fore of Lizzie’s mind.

S
he certainly wasn’t thinking of magic books as she hushed her frantically barking dogs that evening. Her dogs weren’t big barkers, so she got up with some curiosity to see what all the fuss was about. Their attention was focused intently on the backyard. She squinted, looking out into the darkness. Her yard butted up against several acres of undeveloped land. Not a public green space, unfortunately, so the land wasn’t maintained. Just a property with overgrown grass, and trees scattered throughout.

Lizzie
brought the dogs with her as she stepped out into the yard. She lived alone and was accustomed to handling minor household and neighborhood upsets, but the dogs were a comfort and made her feel a little braver. Not that she thought there was a burglar.
Ha. Laughable.
She quickly decided that turning on the backyard lights might be a good idea.

As she
was turning back to the house, she saw a large animal loping away. She didn’t get a clear view, since she saw him through the wrought iron bars of her fence. But he didn’t look scared or in a hurry. Coyotes were bold and not particularly scared of humans—just cautious. So Lizzie thought it must have been a coyote. A large coyote…

At least it wasn’t
a burglar, she thought, as she headed into the house. Silly to have worried over nothing.

Later that night, Lizzie lay in bed thinking about the coyote she’d seen. This was Austin. Central Texas was overrun with coyotes. They trolled
suburban neighborhoods looking for easy prey, like neighborhood cats, small dogs, even garbage. Lizzie knew all about coyotes. Anyone living in Austin for very long could spot the leggy, spare creatures.

But t
he more she thought back, the more she questioned her conclusion. What she’d seen was more than three times the size of a coyote and much more densely furred. In that moment, standing in the darkness and with poor visibility, her mind had leaped to the most likely answer—coyote. But the animal she saw had looked much more like the neighbor’s Malamute, Spencer, than a coyote.

Spencer was a love. Big and slow
at about 100 pounds, he was a fluffy, friendly, teddy bear of a dog. As she rolled over in bed, hunting a more comfortable position, she wondered if it was possible it had been Spencer she’d seen. She’d have to call the Cooks early tomorrow and double-check that Spencer hadn’t escaped.

She was asleep before she could consider what the too-big, too-fluffy, not-a-coyote
, animal could have been, if not Spencer…

Lizzie woke up with a feeling
that she was supposed to do something.
Dang it.
That’s why there was a notepad by her bed. She could never remember her late night to-do lists. Right before sleep, seemed to be a productive time for her brain. But if she didn’t write her thoughts down on paper, it took her ages to remember them again. Grocery list, gone. Awesome idea for redecorating the guest room, gone.

Lizzie
had been working on a client’s website for several hours before she remembered
—Spencer!
She rushed to her cell and called up the Cooks. Mrs. Cook answered on the first ring.

“Hi, Lizzie!
How are you sweetie?”

Lizz
ie would be surprised if Spencer was missing. Otherwise, Mrs. Cook wouldn’t be so chipper. Spencer was her and her husband’s darling. Their kids were grown and out of the house, and Spencer reaped the benefits of all their spare time and attention. If Spencer were missing, Lizzie was sure she’d hear it in Mrs. Cook’s voice.

“Hi, Mrs. Cook. I’m good. Um, how’s Spencer?” Lizzie didn’t want to upset her for no reason. But it really
had looked like Spencer. Mostly. Maybe a little bigger, a little darker than Spencer. Well, the more she thought on it…

“He’s just fine. Getting a little fat, the vet says
, so he’s grumpy about his new diet. But otherwise, great. Why do you ask?”

“I saw a
loose dog out behind my house. I just wanted to be sure it wasn’t Spencer. It didn’t occur to me that it might be him until really late last night, or I would have called earlier. Sorry, Mrs. Cook.” Lizzie said guiltily.

“No problem. Thanks for thinking of us. Oh!
You don’t mean that big dog, the one running out back around ten o’clock? Robert swore it was a wolf-hybrid. I told him he was silly. This close into town, none of the neighbors would have a hybrid. Maybe out in the country, but not here. Spencer growled and barked like crazy, or we wouldn’t have even seen him.”

Lizzie
knew Mr. Cook to be a reliable, practical sort of man. He was also an avid outdoorsman. If Mr. Cook said wolf-hybrid, he was probably right. A shiver went up Lizzie’s back. The thought of a wolf right outside her door was deeply disturbing, though she didn’t know why. Coyotes abounded, and she never worried about them. And wolves were supposed to be much shyer of humans. Still—she didn’t like it.

“Thanks
, Mrs. Cook. I’m sorry to bother you.” Lizzie was ready to put the whole thing behind her, both the unsettled feeling, and the image of the unknown animal. One she was coming to realize was definitely not a coyote. And clearly not Spencer, the friendly malamute.

Mrs. Cook’s reply was cheerful.
“No bother at all. I’m always glad to hear from you. We’ll see you at the neighborhood BBQ next month, right?”

Mr. Cook was fabulous with a grill. He even had his own
custom BBQ trailer that he took to cook-offs. Lizzie wouldn’t miss it, and she told Mrs. Cook so.

Lizzie sa
id her goodbyes, ended the call, and put the whole odd experience from her mind.

Lizzie
was finishing up some logo designs for a client that night, when a knock at the door started her dogs barking.
Ugh.
What was with all the barking lately?
Was her life getting more exciting or her dogs naughtier?

After hushing
the dogs and herding them into the back bedroom, she straightened her crooked T-shirt, made a quick check of the floor for underwear or other inappropriate clothing items, then walked into the front hall. She grimaced as she remembered exactly what the dogs dug out of the laundry bin the last time she’d forgotten to check the floor.

Her neighborhood didn’t allow soliciting, and she
hadn’t ordered from Amazon even once this month. She smiled. She was just a little bit proud of her restraint. But that meant no package deliveries. “Who arrives at the front door without at least dropping a quick text?” she thought absentmindedly, as she opened the front door. 

A
nd...
wow, hot guy
, was her first thought. Tall, really tall, she thought as her eyes traveled up…and up. Six-foot-two, six-foot-three? His muscular frame took up most of the open doorway. Short cropped, dark brown hair, bright blue eyes set in a lightly tanned, very attractive face. Just a hint of shadow on his jaw, like he’d overslept that morning and rushed out the door.  But wait, her eyes skittered back down to a broad chest and muscular arms. A T-shirt in March. How she loved warm Texas weather. It gave her the opportunity to admire bulging biceps at least eight months out of the year.