Lost Library: An Urban Fantasy Romance (25 page)

He held out his hand.
This was the moment that Lizzie would later pinpoint as the exact time when she realized, subconsciously, that Worth was the criminal in the adventure she’d been living. Lizzie, usually ever polite and always seeing the best in everyone, didn’t want to take Worth’s outstretched hand. Her aversion was so strong that years of ingrained politeness couldn’t force her to clasp the hand before her. Worth’s hand.

Instead, Lizzie responded, “Mr. Worth, I believe?” She also felt no compulsion to express her delight at making his acquaintance. Her voice was even, firm.

Worth appeared unfazed by her rejection. He simply let his hand fall, then offered her a drink.

“If you’d like to join me in an afternoon cocktail, I would be happy to pour for you, Ms. Smith.” Worth waved her escort away. He had been standing silently in the doorway.

“Not today.” Lizzie felt possessed. It was like her much braver twin-self was driving her actions. No “please” or “thank you,” refusing to shake hands. She was entering a new world. 

“Have a seat. I’m sure you’d like some explanation for your visit with us.” Worth seated himself in one of the chairs near the fire.

She considered her options, and then she decided playing nice might garner more information than not. She sat opposite him and waited.

Worth leaned ba
ck in the chair, placing his drink on the side table. He spared a moment to evaluate her, then he said, “Our plan went somewhat awry with you, Ms. Smith. We wouldn’t have been so persistent but for the untimely death of another candidate. My apologies for any inconvenience I’ve caused you.”

Lizzie knew
two things with absolute certainty. He meant not a word of the apology he uttered. And Worth had killed the other candidate. Lizzie didn’t understand the visceral dislike Worth engendered in her, but she trusted her feelings.

Taking her silence as an acceptance of his apology, he continued. “I have a project that is time sensitive and requires a very specific skill set. At first glance, you me
et the qualifications to complete an important component of the project. I hope you won’t disappoint. Provide satisfactory results, and you will be rewarded. Less than satisfactory results will result in unpleasant consequences for everyone.”

He reach
ed into his inside jacket pocket and pulled out a photograph.

Handing it to her, he said, “I know you left quickly and weren’t able to collect any personal items. So I thought you might like a reminder of home.”

Lizzie’s scalp crawled when she reached out and took the photo from him. She looked down at a photo of her mother and father, sitting at their kitchen table sharing breakfast. She’d never seen the photo before; certainly it wasn’t one of hers. She was sure it had been taken by one of Worth’s henchmen. The threat was quite clear, for all that the words were never spoken.

“What’s my role in the project?” Lizzie carefully placed the photo on the arm of the chair. Her hands were sweating and she was leaving marks on the picture.

“I’m so glad you’ve asked.” Worth smiled reassuringly. “Nothing demanding. I have a library of spelled books. Given my obvious handicap, I’ve recruited several promising candidates to begin categorizing and logging them. You need read only the titles, so the work progresses quickly. We can have you home in a short while.”

Lizzie didn’t believe him for a moment. She remained silent, fearing any response would reveal her skepticism.

“There are a few simple rules. Remain on the fifth floor unless escorted. Be ready to work during your assigned work times. When in the library, follow Moore’s direction regarding the handling and placement of the books. Easy, yes?”

At her continued silence, Worth restated his question. “You understand and will abide by these simple rules, will you not?”

Lizzie replied, “I understand.” And she knew she didn’t have much choice. She certainly wouldn’t risk her parents.

Looking back at the events of the meeting, Lizzie couldn’t pinpoint why
Worth scared the hell out of her. He was a handsome older man with impeccable manners in an expensive suit. Even his threats were oblique—not filled with loud protests or violent demonstrations.

But she knew. The sick feeling in her gut, the aversion she experienced when physically near him. She knew the veneer of civility Worth wore hid a darkness she didn’t want to uncover.

So she stuck with her original plan. She would gather information, hope she wasn’t discovered as a fraud, and learn as much as she safely could—about magic, the library of spelled books, and Worth. 

John studied Worth’s file.
Three known residences in or near Prague. It seemed excessive, but John also wasn’t a fabulously wealthy criminal mastermind. John noticed there was a pattern. Worth had limited himself to singular residences in other countries, or a city apartment and country home. He had no other holdings in the Czech Republic except the three centered directly in and around Prague. It was odd compared to Worth’s properties that IPPC had discovered in other countries. Harrington also noted the change in pattern and requested additional information on the three Prague residences.

After the initial meeti
ng, Harrington had offered John, Kenna, and Max rooms on site. By that time, Harrington had proved himself an invaluable resource, and John was reluctant to pass up an opportunity to stay close to the source of such a vast array of useful information.

Harrington provided
each of the three with a micro-sized room with one shared bath between them. After settling in on a down-sized sofa, John reviewed Worth’s file. As he flipped through the now familiar file, a nagging thought wouldn’t leave him: his pack’s self-imposed isolation from the world had resulted in an intolerable ignorance of the magical world around them. As he was considering the ramifications, Max tapped on the door and let himself in.

“
Kenna’s resting. She’s exhausted by all of the stress and travel. It took a little convincing, but once I pointed out how useless she’d be if she was incoherent from exhaustion, she agreed.” Max ruffled his hand through his hair, and sighed. “What now?”

“You heard Harrington, his people need a few hours to contact their sources and do some research regarding the Prague properties.”

Max asked, “Until then?”

“Until then, we strategize with what information we do have.
” John leaned back in the sofa, dropping Worth’s file on the seat next to him. “I can’t believe how ignorant the Texas Pack has become over the last few decades.” He was furious with himself.

Texas had become quite progressive with both his
uncle’s and his own leadership tenure. Dominance fights for leadership of the pack had been eliminated. A council of elders was created, making the Alpha one of two voices of authority within the pack. But the Texas Pack had remained isolated from other magic-users. That would end now.

Max frowned, but he didn’t disagree. “Information is always useful.
And the Texas Pack
has
segregated itself from the magical community.”

“Spell casters. What the hell?
I don’t even know what their capabilities are.” John’s frustration was clear in his voice.

T
he reason it mattered so much? Harrington had informed them that Worth was most definitely a spell caster, just as Lizzie was. A very powerful one.

John pinched the bridge of his nose, then turned
and picked up the file again. “There’s a reason he’s focused on Prague. We need to figure out why. That may give us some clue as to why he needs more than one spell caster, all females. And where they might be.”

He was interrupted by a knock on the door. At his “Enter,” a young woman let herself in the door. Three people made the room overflow, so she left the door open and stood in the doorway.

“Mr. Harrington asked me to stop by and answer any questions I can, about spell casters.” She smiled. “My name is Sarah.” She held out her hand. After shaking hands with both men, she said, “How can I help you?”

Max
slid around and sat on the sofa next to John, leaving enough room for Sarah to come inside and shut the door comfortably. She took the only seat left, a bar stool in front of the eating cubby.

John had already
berated himself for his ignorance. He wasn’t going to spare his pride and possibly sacrifice critical information, so he said, “I know nothing. Give me the basics, and we’ll go from there.”

Sarah gave him a slightly puzzled look, then shrugged and began a short recitation on spell casters.

“Spell casters use their magic by manipulating objects or binding spells to objects. Wards are a very common expression of the binding type of spell caster magic. Bind a sensing spell to the exterior walls of a home, and you have an alarm ward. Bind a slightly different sensing spell to the electrical wiring of a home, and you have a bugging device.”

Max
looked intrigued. “Is there a limit to the size of the object a spell caster uses? Or to the size of the spell?”

“Yes, there is.” Sarah smiled at him. “You’ve hit on one of the limitations of spell caster magic. The size of the object defines the size of the spell to some degree. Larger objects take more magic, typically. B
ut be aware that creative and thoughtful spell casting allows for variance. As does the caster’s natural talent tendencies.

Sarah waited a moment, but when neither man had a question or comment, she returned to her explanation.
“Two factors will impact the size and strength of a spell. The strength of the caster’s magic is the first. The second factor is more abstract, but basically it can be summed up as experience, creativity, and sophistication. Some casters are intuitively excellent problem solvers. Others have to study different methods and techniques. The best are well educated, with experience and good intuition.”

“It sounds much like any craft
—part sweat and part imagination,” John commented.

Max raised his eyebrows. To which John responded, “Shut up.”

Max grinned. “I didn’t say anything.”

At Sarah’s confused look, John explained. “I’m a statistician. Max is having a hard time picturing me
using my imagination. In fact, he suspects I have none. It’s hard for him to understand that creativity and math are not mutually exclusive.”

“Not true!” Max denied
, but there was a smile on his face. Clearing his throat, he said, “Go ahead and give us an example. Just so we’re clear.”

“A very strong but inexperienced caster may ward a building by simply splashing
it with magic—more in some areas, less in others. A more sophisticated caster with less power might apply a thin veneer to the whole. An experienced or educated caster might choose the points of greatest vulnerability, reinforce those points the most, and coat the rest with a thinner layer. Brute force versus fine motor skills and strategy.”

“You mentioned manipulation of objects. Do you mean creating projectiles?” John asked.

“Yesss.” Sarah drew out the word, as if undecided. “I’ve not seen that application before. I’ve seen toys given limited animation, or an inanimate object’s form altered to resemble something else.” She stopped to think for a moment. “I suppose you could—again using brute force—simply move something through space so quickly that it becomes a weapon, but precise targeting would be difficult with that much force.” She paused, thinking, again. “No, I’m sure you could do it.” She gave a tiny shake of her head. “Sorry. That’s really far afield from my own talents. And I don’t know anyone who would use casting offensively in that way. But I think you’re right. It could be done.”

Her face grew distant and thoughtful. She blinked a few times, as if suddenly returning to the present.
“I might have heard of something similar…but I can’t seem to remember.”

Max interrupted her. “We’
re concerned that a caster may plan to use his abilities against us or hostages that are under his control. Most of what you’re describing sounds like defense and intelligence gathering.”

Sarah nodded vigorously. “Yes, that’s right.”

“But there are more aggressive offensive applications?” John clarified.

At Sarah’s nod,
John turned the discussion to Worth. “We think that this caster has targeted women. That he specifically needs women for whatever he has planned. Can you think of a reason for that?”

“Worth.” Sarah said. “I know about the case. Harrington briefed me, so you can discuss any of the details. Feel free to give him a call to confirm. But, yes. Of course there’s a reason for targeting women. Language.”

Max and John glanced at each
other simultaneously.

Sarah continued. “Women are better at language. Men are better at geography.”

“Seriously? You’re not kidding?” Max raised his eyebrows. “Are you telling me that Worth nabbed women because of a stereotype that women are better communicators?”

Sarah laughed
briefly. “I’m sorry,” she said, stifling her amusement. She continued in a much more serious tone. “I do understand what’s at stake. I’m talking about natural talent. Men are more likely to be talented in areas of geo-location, map reading, dowsing.”