Spirited Legacy (Lost Library) (15 page)

“No problem.” Tavish didn’t even blink over the fact his boss had come, gone, and failed to impart any of the relevant details of the meetings.

The two men discussed business and set a tentative plan in motion to begin the hiring process for long-term staff. John had some contacts within the American Lycan community, and he even had a man or two in mind from his own pack. Tavish would run it by Lachlan before getting the pieces moving.

After they’d wrapped up, he couldn’t help but recall Lachlan’s implied criticism. “One last thing. I think Lachlan…never mind,” he said, shaking his head in annoyance.

Tavish eyed him sympathetically. “Lachlan’s been giving you advice?”

John’s curiosity was piqued. Did he cruise around doling out unsolicited advice routinely? “Yes.”

Tavish nodded knowingly.

“So?” John prompted when Tavish didn’t continue.

Tavish sighed. “Lachlan is like a friendly cousin to Loki.”

“Sorry?”

At John’s impatient look, Tavish clarified. “He can be a mischievous ass. It’s also hard to know what his motivations are. Frequently, they’re convoluted and the end result is his own amusement. What was the gist?”

“The point seemed to be that Lizzie can take care of herself.” He stopped, trying to recall what exactly Lachlan had said. “I need a partner, not more responsibility—I think.”

“Love and relationships? Pay attention. He’s actually quite good when it comes to relationships.” Tavish rolled his shoulders. “Don’t ever take investment advice from him, though. Or race tips.” After a second, he added, “Actually any sports tips. And don’t listen to any weather predictions.”

John laughed. Then he saw the dead serious look Tavish shot his way. “Seriously? You’re not kidding?”

“No, not kidding.”

Huh.
“Thanks for the heads up.” And that was about all John could manage, because really—all he’d learned was that Lachlan was a nut job who gave horrible advice, sometimes on purpose, about almost everything—except love. He snorted in disgust.
Enough
.
That was three minutes he’d never get back.

John excused himself to place a call to Max. The call was overdue, and John had endured more than enough dragon freaky shit for the day.

“Where the hell have you been? I expected a call when you landed.” Max’s tone was shy of angry, but certainly not as light-hearted as his usual self.

“Since when are you my nanny?” At Max’s grunt of annoyance, John took pity on him. “Look—I appreciate your help. Both in getting me Lizzie’s flight info and in keeping an eye on things with the Pack. I’ve just been busy.”

“I don’t suppose that has anything to do with our curly-headed caster?” Max ventured.

“She’s not ours; she’s mine. And you know it does.” John made a note to check in with Logan. He hadn’t received an update since he left. “I’m guessing you have pack news?”

Max was human, but he was also friends with half a dozen Texas Pack members. And friendly with twice that number.

“You need to get Lizzie back. And plant your ass in Texas for the next few months. Once this current adventure is over, don’t leave.” Max paused. “Hang on.” A little background noise, a few shut doors, the electronic ding of a car door ajar, and the soft hum of an expensive engine. “There’s talk of a challenge.”

John should have known. This whole mess with Lizzie made him look weak. “Internal or external?”

“Both. There’s a line forming.” Max’s tone was grim.

Fuck.
“Who?” John asked.

“Does it matter? Get your ass home. And bring your woman.” Max chuckled, but John wasn’t sure there was any humor in the sound. “Just make sure she agrees not to start a civil war on arrival.”

“I’ve only been gone two days. Logan said nothing of a specific challenge when we last spoke.”

“But he warned you trouble was coming, didn’t he?”

John thought back to the conversation. “He warned generally that a challenge could result. But my impression was that no one was rushing to be first. He had no names. I’m sure of it; he would have said.”

“It’s been a while since you’ve beaten the shit out of anyone. Memories fade. And the Council—actually, I’m not sure what’s going on with the Council. Come home.” Max snorted. “And if you need a little help getting your problem out there sorted, let me know. I could use a break myself from some bullshit here in town. Cracking heads and shooting people may be just the thing to brighten my mood.”

John laughed. “Thanks for the offer, however self-serving it may have been. We’re having spirit issues. No guns required. I’ll keep you in mind if that situation changes, though.” After a short pause, John asked, “Are you all right?”

“Yeah, I’m fine, just frustrated and annoyed. Kenna’s driving me nuts. What’s with your spirit issues? Actually, I don’t want to know. I’m assuming everything’s all right unless you call for reinforcements. And I’ll keep you updated if the situation escalates here.” John could hear the indrawn breath of pending speech, but Max hesitated. Then—“Something’s not right, John. There shouldn’t be this much of a reaction—this much dissent—traced back to your absence. Even factoring in Lizzie, your mate announcement, and your apparent refusal to introduce her to the Pack, it’s still—off. The faster you’re home, the better.”

“Thanks.” John ended the call with a sense that another little piece of his world was crumbling. Lizzie, the Pack—what else did he have? If his business manager gave him a call and said all their accounts had cancelled their contracts, he wouldn’t be particularly surprised.

He dropped down into one of the chairs. Papers were strewn across the table from his meeting. He sat in that chair for ten minutes. Not thinking about Lizzie. Or the Pack. Or his business. Or this security job. He just needed a moment to simply be.

After about ten minutes, he straightened, packed away the papers, clicked his laptop shut, made a mental note to razz Lachlan and Tavish about their reluctance to use electronic documentation, gathered everything together, and left the room. He’d catch a quick bite, then try to get started putting a preliminary list together for the new security staff. He was in control. He had a plan. He was ready to take care of business—Pack, Lizzie, and security.

Chapter 19

L
izzie looked down at the large piece of paper spread out on the parlor table. She’d coopted Tavish’s favorite parlor for her craft project because it had a huge table and great light. Google was definitely her friend. Not having dabbled in spiritualism or been into ghosty, ghouly stories as a kid, she didn’t actually know what a Ouija board looked like. So, after lunch, she’d found a description of one online. She could have run into town and bought one. Turns out, they were readily available in stores and even looked like a children’s game board.

Since she needed a simple means of communication, she made her own. She’d gathered together some supplies and planted herself in one of the many parlors sprinkling the huge house. Looking down at her handiwork, she felt a stout sense of accomplishment. Good thing she Googled. She’d have left off the numbers, otherwise. And they seemed handy.

She grinned at her makeshift board. She’d taken an old serving tray from the kitchen and covered the bottom in thick paper. It rested evenly on its handles when turned upside down, presenting a stable, flat surface for the paper and the small pebble she’d planned to use as the planchette. She wasn’t sure how good her ghost’s motor skills were, so she’d made the board with large letters and numbers, none touching the others. A bit like a large print Ouija. She giggled.

Tavish appeared in the door. “What’s so funny?”

“Large print Ouija?” Looking at the politely blank expression on Tavish’s face as he walked into the parlor, she cringed inwardly.
Not funny.

“Sorry. I’ve been at my craft project a little too long.” She waved her hand in the direction of the paper. The big letters in purple marker looked foolish now, with Tavish examining them.

“Good plan with the big letters. She may not have particularly good aim.” Peering down at her, he added, “Have you considered she might have intended those books as a warning, or, perhaps, a weapon? Rather than a means of communication?”

“No. And I’m going to continue not considering it. That’s what I have you security types for, right?” She grinned at him.

But her grin hid her worry. Of course, she was concerned. She was dealing with a ghost. A disembodied ball of energy. Not even the experts were sure what type of energy. Or what a ghost could do. Well, if you considered Harry and Tavish experts.

But if she were to dwell—on the potential for malicious intent, on the possibility that the books
were
intended for her head—then she wouldn’t have the courage to investigate. Or the courage to work in the Library at all. She was already getting a slow start with her internship because of this darn ghost.

The most troubling aspect was that she’d been unable to find any pattern to the books’ placement—and after having such a strong feeling that they were a message, not finding one was both galling and concerning. She’d studied the photos and the books themselves. Nothing. Well, almost nothing. Two books were in French and one in German. Did that mean something? Two philosophical texts and one religious. And that meant what? There was no similarity in the content of the exposed pages.
Argh.
It was enough to make a girl start picking at her cuticles.

She looked at Tavish and decided there was no time like the present. Especially if the present involved a badass, scaly bastard who could surely kick some ghost butt, standing about three feet away. “Let’s do this.” Well, she
sounded
confident.

“Right now?” At her firm nod, he said, “Okay.” He seated himself at the card table where Lizzie had constructed her improvised Ouija board.

“Um, how?” Lizzie looked at Tavish hopefully.

He smiled. “I haven’t a clue. What happened last time?”

Lizzie closed her eyes, imagining that night. “I walked in the door.” She scrunched her eyes more tightly closed, trying to remember. “Ugh. It was just yesterday.”

“No problem,” Tavish said in a quiet, relaxed voice. “Backup. What happened before that?”

“I came down the stairs. With John. We’d, ah, whatever, on the main stairs to the ground floor.” She could feel the heat in her face. She was incredibly glad not to be looking Tavish in the face right now. “Then he escorted me to the Library door.”

She relaxed as the night came back to her. Her voice quiet but confident, she said, “I opened the door after saying goodnight.” She smiled, remembering the kiss John had given her. He’d been disappointed she wasn’t coming right to bed, so he’d wanted to leave her hot and bothered. She was guessing the idea was that she’d hustle up to bed quicker.

“I sat at the table to the right, my back to the wall. Worked for I’m not sure how long. And that was it.”

“So the books fell behind you?” When she nodded, he asked, “In between the wall and where you were sitting?”

“Right. I didn’t see anything, and I was distracted enough that it frightened me quite a bit.”

“Hmm. I remember the scream. Like a teenage girl seeing her first snake.” He grinned.

“Smartass. And by the way, I’ve seen grown men squeal like babies over snakes. Let’s not discriminate.” Lizzie’s scalp itched in a creepy-crawly way. Snakes.
Ick.
She felt a quick shiver run across her body. Rattlesnakes might be right up there with ghosts for creepiness.

“So—I was focused on the notes I wanted to review. That’s why I was there,” she reminded Tavish.

“In the movies, they always just ask the ghost to make itself known.” She paused, trying to come up with a less embarrassing version of that scenario.

Yep. Not happening.
“Excuse me, lady ghost? Are you here in the room with us?”

She tried closing her eyes, then she realized that wouldn’t be helpful, because then she couldn’t see the board.

“We brought a board for you to use. If you want to speak with us.” She realized sticking with a question was a good idea.
“If you’re here, move the stone to ‘yes.’ Please.” She figured it never hurt to be polite. If she was lucky and really nice to the ghost, maybe her ghostly visitor would consider not throwing books at her head.

How about a personal connection? “What’s your name? If you’re here, please spell your name with the stone.”

She looked at Tavish. “I feel ridiculous.”

He nodded complacently. “You look ridiculous.”

“Well, you don’t have anything better,” she said crossly.

“Hmm.” He picked up her stone, rolling it for a second in his fingers then pocketing it. He gathered her board next. “Let’s go.”

“Where—well, damn. Why didn’t you say something earlier?” She was miffed but mostly with herself.

“You seemed pretty determined. It was cute.” He winked at her.

What a shit.
They both headed in the direction of the Library. The only location they knew the ghost to have visited. A ghost who most likely had some special connection with this house. And if location was important, as both Tavish and Harry had said, it was possible the ghost was tied not just to the house, but specifically to the Library. Tavish really was a shit. He could have saved her that embarrassing little scene.
Ugh. Stupid men.

Once they arrived, Lizzie realized that, of course, they’d be interrupting Heike at her work in the Library.
Someone
was working at making a dent in the translation and cataloguing. Harrington had expanded the work area to include both the Library and the large main basement area. So when Lizzie and Tavish stepped into the basement from the stairway, they immediately entered the work area where Heike had stationed herself.

“Hi, Heike. Sorry to bother you. We’ll just pop right through to the Library proper. I’ll close the door so we won’t disturb you,” Lizzie said.

“Investigating the ghost phenomenon?” She looked curious, but only mildly so.

Lizzie was surprised. Why hadn’t she realized that Heike would be informed? They hadn’t discussed it at breakfast, but she would have heard something by now. Likely from Ewan.