Defensive Magic: A Paranormal Urban Fantasy Tale (Lost Library Book 3) (24 page)

“That’s what concerns me—that this is big magic.” Harrington sounded worried, but he wasn’t making any sense.

Tentatively, Lizzie said, “That’s what I’m trying to tell you: this ward was huge.”

“No, I mean Big Magic. It’s not something that’s been done in a long time, that I know of.” Harrington sighed. “Do you remember Matylda’s books? Not the Vampyr books, but the death magic and necromancy books. Death magic and necromancy commonly employed Big Magic. But I find it hard to believe what you’re describing is—” He paused. Lizzie could just barely hear him take a breath, then another. “Just let me know if you discover anything that indicates how the ward was cast. Actually, anything about the ward at all.”

Lizzie checked with John to make sure she wasn’t violating some as yet unknown Pack confidentiality. When John gave a cursory nod, she said, “Of course. I’ll let you know if we learn anything. ”

“There should be very few magic-users in a dead zone. So if there is any kind of expat-type community, it will be very small. My advice? If you can find one local magic-user, that person will likely know everyone in the area.”

“Including the killer, if they’re not involved themselves,” John said. “But I agree. That’s an option we’ll investigate.”

“Thanks for your help, Harrington. I’ll let you know what we find out about the ward,” Lizzie said before she disconnected the call.

“So—we’re here. Are you going to tell me why we came now?” she asked.

“Yeah. I wondered how long that would take.” John gave her a weak smile. “A few reasons, but the biggest was the Council. They were close to calling for a no-confidence vote.”

“What?” she hollered.

“It’s fine,” he said soothingly. “They didn’t. And if it made it to the point of a vote, I’d win hands down.”

“But they considered it.” What the hell were those selfish bastards thinking? This mess wasn’t John’s fault. He was an exceptional leader. She gritted her teeth. “They should be thankful to have you.”

What she didn’t say was that they should be thankful to have someone who doesn’t terrorize them and beat them up on a regular basis.

“Most are. But there are some who are complacent because of the security Texas has had for so many years. And others who don’t remember Pack life before Logan.” He ducked his head down and caught her gaze. “It’s fine.”

Rather than stressing over how completely not fine all that was, she asked, “So what does that have to do with us coming to Vegas?”

“Perception, primarily. I may be pursuing leads in Texas, but I
look
like I’m pursuing them in Vegas. But that’s not the only reason we’re here. There is a lead I’d like to follow up on.” He gave her an apologetic look.

“I’m not going to like this bit, am I?” she guessed.

“No. I might have a contact of sorts in Vegas.”

That didn’t sound bad to her—yet. “What did he have to say?”

John cocked his head slightly and hesitated. “He doesn’t have a phone. That’s why I didn’t argue when the Council pushed for more action. And why I chose to come to Vegas. I didn’t know Vegas was a dead zone—I’d never even heard of that before. But I thought my guy might know of some local magic-users or be connected in some way to them, since he’s not a part of a pack.”

No phone number. Not a part of a pack. “I’m assuming this guy is disreputable in some way.” Then the light went off. “He’s been banished from his pack, hasn’t he?”

“Yes, but he’s not like Vicky. He’s no traitor. He was banished for—other reasons.”

At her hard look, John held up his hands and said, “Okay—I just didn’t want to get into it. He prefers his wolf form, and that’s not normal. You know Lycan are human with an alternate wolf form. We’re born human, mate with other humans—Lycan and non-Lycan—and live the vast majority of our lives as human. While the wolf is always there, always a part of us, we don’t spend much time in that form. Thomas Alexander, my contact, spends almost all of his time in wolf form. For that and other reasons, he’s now in Vegas.”

Lizzie shook her head. “How does that even work? I mean, wolves aren’t native here, right? I’m sure anyone sighting a wolf would report it, and that would cause a huge stir.”

“He has some property, but beyond that I suspect that he’s careful. No longer my problem, because he’s not a Pack member.”

“Wait a second—Thomas Alexander. Is he any relation to James the doctor? Your buddy and pack member James?”

“Yes, James is his cousin,” he replied grimly. “I need to shower off the stink of that plane ride, then we can head out to Thomas’s place. Hopefully, by the time we’re done, Max will have an update on Vicky’s recent communications and Harrington will have found an in with local law enforcement.”

And if those leads didn’t pan out—what then? While John showered, Lizzie worried that everything would come crashing down on John and he’d lose, at the very least, any hope of progress for Lycan. She tried not to think about what he’d lose in a worst-case scenario.

Chapter 30

“T
om, you wouldn’t shoot an old friend, would you?” John refused to be intimidated by the shotgun pointed in his direction.

“Are you an old friend?”

The dark-blond, twenty-something standing barefoot in a pair of old jeans and faded T-shirt in front of the adobe cabin looked nothing like the Tom he remembered. Tom hadn’t shaved in days. His red-rimmed eyes combined with the poorly groomed half-beard and worn clothes to give him the appearance of a man who’d hit hard times. But the clothes were clean and the cabin was in good repair. Tom had always been an anomaly. Not the least of which was his choice to arm himself. Lycan didn’t typically favor firearms.

Tom had left the Pack at eighteen, around ten years ago. He knew who John was—it hadn’t been that long. So his question had some deeper meaning that John preferred not to delve into now.

“I thought so, Tom, but if that’s changed, then I ask that you not shoot because I don’t mean you any harm.”

“You never
mean
to hurt your friends, do you Braxton?”

Shit. He was bitter and angry. He had one shot— “I need your help.”

The sharp bark of laughter that followed startled Lizzie. He could feel her flinch next to him.

Tom lowered his gun and asked, “Who’s the woman?”

John stood very still, trying to gauge Tom’s intent. He must have shown more than he intended, because Tom shook his head and said, “Your mate.” He lowered his head and he lost some of the bitterness. He just looked sad. Picking his head up and meeting John’s eyes, Tom said, “I’m glad for you.” He turned his back to them and walked into the cabin.

Lizzie nudged him in the ribs. “It’s complicated? Understatement of the year,” she grumbled quietly. “Come on. I’m pretty sure we’ve been invited inside.”

She walked into the cabin, tugging on his arm when he didn’t immediately follow.

“Mr. Alexander,” she started as soon as she entered the cabin.

“Tom.”

Lizzie smiled warmly at him. “Tom,” she corrected herself. “Thank you so much for inviting us into your home.” She looked around at the cabin’s interior and the smile on her face spread to her eyes. “You have a beautiful home.”

Tom nodded silently, face expressionless, but John could tell he was pleased at the compliment. The craftsmanship was superb. Cool tile flooring met the adobe walls seamlessly. The floor plan was open and airy, giving the cabin a spacious feeling. And the view on the back side of the cabin was spectacular with large windows covering most of the wall. This was no rustic hermit’s hole.

Tom offered them a seat at a pretty, hand carved kitchen table. “Would you like a drink—?”

Sitting in the offered chair, she said, with an encouraging smile, “Lizzie. And yes, please. Water would be lovely.”

“Still or sparkling?”

John tried to contain his surprise. Who was this man? He’d changed to the point of being unrecognizable.

“Oh, sparkling, thank you.”

Tom brought Lizzie a sparkling water with a lime wedge. A lime wedge, really? Then he seated himself at the table with them.

“How can I help you?” Tom directed the question to Lizzie.

“Someone’s been creating problems for the Pack, and recently a former Pack member was murdered here in Vegas.”

Tom tensed, but he didn’t interrupt Lizzie’s explanation.

“We think there’s a spell caster here locally that might have something to do with her death—with Vicky’s death.”

A quickly indrawn breath halted the flow of Lizzie’s speech. She blinked at Tom.

“Of course, you probably knew her.” She winced slightly. “I’m so sorry. Were you close?”

Tom shook his head, the corners of his mouth pulling down slightly. “No. She was horrible. Picked on me when I was a little kid. And then after… After, she was…” He sighed, rubbing his face. “She wasn’t nice to me. I was just surprised. She was no one to me.”

“Well, I suspect some of what you saw as a child revealed her true nature. Because I’d agree with you—she was horrible.” Lizzie’s face scrunched up. “Her murder plays a larger part in some difficulties the Pack is working out. We’d like to know more about the local magic-using community, if you can share anything.”

“There’s not much of one. You’ve heard of dead zones?”

“Yes,” she replied. “One of our contacts explained that Vegas was considered a dead zone.”

“That’s one of the reasons I live out here, outside the city. I don’t actually need all the space anymore.” Tom shot a quick glance at John. “But living in the city, spending any amount of time there, it just feels wrong. I can’t explain it more than that—just a sense of wrongness.”

John thought the conversation had progressed enough that he could speak without upsetting their host. “About how big is the local community?”

“If you include people like me, the ones who live on the outskirts of town, maybe thirty people. I couldn’t tell you what they are, other than four other Lycan right now. Numbers change—it’s a fluid society.”

“So some do choose to live inside the city limits?”

“Yeah. A dozen or so. At least half have some form of dementia or mental illness, though.” Seeing John’s surprise, Tom added, “That’s right. As much as we all hate to admit, there is some mental illness among the magic-using. And Vegas is just one place that magic communities dump their dirty laundry. You people need to wake up and see the world around you.”

Lizzie reached out to touch Tom’s arm, but stopped herself. “I think they’re trying. I know John is.”

John didn’t reply. What was there to say? That they’d all been a bunch of ignorant fucks and had treated Tom badly? That a painfully shy, awkward boy who didn’t particularly like women and who refused to wrestle or get physical with other boys hadn’t been something the Pack understood? That his silent refusal to return to human form for days on end, hiding in the woods from other Pack members had completely unsettled the Pack? Tom knew how the Pack had felt.

Tom’s eyes narrowed. “What are you?”

“I was told that’s a horribly rude question to ask, but since it’s the first thing
I
always want to know I’ll tell you.” She gave him a wicked grin. “Spell caster. And if you want the particulars, you’ll have to wait until I’ve figured them out myself. Oh—I can read the pack book, that much I’ve figured out.”

That seemed to intrigue him. He said to John, “You’ve finally found it?”

John nodded. “Too busy to devote as much time studying it as we’d like, but yes.”

“It’s on the list,” Lizzie said tartly. “Right after ‘Save the Pack from evil geniuses.’ Tom, you seem well-informed about the different types of talent groups. Do you know anything about wards?”

“Not really, other than spell casters use them.”

“You should probably know that the city, all of Vegas, is warded. You live well outside the boundaries of the ward. We passed through it to get here today. But every time you enter the city, someone—some spell caster—knows that you’re there. Do you work in the city?”

He looked surprised by the information. “No. I went to school there, but I’ve lived and worked here.” He gestured to the back of the house. “I have an office in the back. What exactly does this spell caster know about me?”

Lizzie had poked and prodded the ward during the drive, so she could provide him with an answer they hadn’t known as they’d first gone through the ward entering the city.

“Not much, thankfully. That you’re a magic-user and your general location as you pass through the ward.”

Tom scowled. “That’s more than enough.”

“Does anyone in the community—maybe one of the inner-city folks—seem paranoid or careful enough to construct something like this?” Lizzie asked.

“More than a few, but none of them are capable enough to do it except Margot.”

Lizzie leaped on his comment. “So you know Margot is a spell caster?”

“No. I think you missed my meaning earlier. When I said dementia and mental illness, most of the people I’m talking about don’t function well enough to execute a complex plan. They’re struggling with daily living. These people live outside the system, so day-to-day life is a struggle for them. What you’re describing—well, several would like to have such a tool, but they simply couldn’t manage it.”

“Except for Margot?” Lizzie asked.

He nodded. “Brilliant and paranoid. She lives in Vegas and has never seemed as affected by it as I am—as most magic-users are. I’m guessing you haven’t been there long enough to experience it.”

Lizzie and John both replied that they hadn’t. Lizzie added, “But I am sufficiently disturbed and sketched out by your description that I’ll be on high alert. What happened here that years later there’s still a residue of yuck?”

“I’ve always imagined it was something in the land itself. But maybe you’re right, maybe an event scarred the land.” Tom almost smiled. Almost. “If I had more free time and wanted to bring some trouble my way, I might check it out.”

“I don’t want to keep you.” Lizzie shot a glance at John. “Especially since we arrived unannounced, but is there anything else that you can tell us about Margot, about the local community, that might be helpful? Maybe Margot’s full name? Or where we can find her?”