Defensive Magic: A Paranormal Urban Fantasy Tale (Lost Library Book 3) (27 page)

“Yeah,” Lizzie added, “it’s possible to create a brief attachment to something like air or mist, but the ward would only last seconds. This ward is much too stable and seems to be attached to something substantial. But if a caster could charge the air like you described, creating a more permanent attachment, it could be spread over a larger area and maintain its integrity.”

“Stop for a second. There’s a sensing ward over the whole city of Las Vegas?” Gwen asked, her voice expressing surprise.

For the first time, they’d managed to fluster the—up to now—unflappable Gwen.

Lizzie said, “Yeah. That’s what we thought. And what Harrington said. I bet he’ll send someone down to check it out. Unless he already has.” She frowned, shooting John a worried look. “We’ve been a little busy with everything that’s going on.”

“If he’s done this, your air witch has been busy. Wouldn’t a ward like that have to be renewed?” Gwen said.

Lizzie pursed her lips. “As it’s triggered, it would be used up—that’s how I understand it. Left untouched, no recharge needed. Each ward has only so many triggers in it.” She held her hands up. “And don’t ask me to explain how many and why—I don’t understand it myself.”

“Ah,” John said. “We did find evidence our witch is in and out of Margot’s coffee shop frequently. And renewing a triggered ward would be one explanation for frequent meetings.”

“More importantly,” Lizzie reminded them all, “it looks like we’re all on board that Margot and the air witch are likely working together.”

The silence on the phone from Gwen almost vibrated. John looked at Lizzie and mouthed, “What?”

Gwen said, “Margot? You don’t mean Marguerite Brasseaux?”

“Yes,” John replied cautiously. “You know her?”

“Only as a known associate of Thad. Thadeus Tewsbury is an air witch with the Coven of Light. You’re telling me that she’s a spell caster?”

Lizzie answered firmly, “Without any doubt, the woman we know as Marguerite Brasseaux is a spell caster. I can also say without reservation that she is not a nice person.”

Gwen made a noise that sounded suspiciously like “humph.”

“What else do you know about her?” John asked.

“She’s twenty-five or twenty-six, owns a little coffee shop, and she’s a writer. That’s all we really know. Oh, and that her association with Thad is likely recent—a year perhaps, but the exact time is unknown.” Gwen put her phone on speaker, and John could hear background noise like she was moving around the room. “I can be there on the next available flight. And Lizzie? I’ll drop the dogs off with Kenna if that’s all right.”

John checked the time, did a quick calculation, and said, “We might have a ride for you at three if you can make it. I’ll have to check with a colleague—but there should be room.”

Lizzie was frantically shaking her head no. When he shrugged and tried for a helpless look, she punched him in the arm. “Ow.”

“That did not hurt you,” she whispered angrily.

He raised his eyebrows at her. “You shouldn’t hit people you love. You really need to work on your anger issues.”

“Hello—still here,” Gwen reminded them.

“I’m not turning down expert knowledge and help against an unknown force,” John said.

“Good choice, Alpha.”

Amused, John acknowledged Gwen’s compliment. “Thanks.”

Lizzie threw up a hand, a motion he interpreted as “shut the hell up,” and said to Gwen, “Do you remember what you said to me about Kenna? Do you remember telling me—warning me—to keep her away from Worth?” Lizzie raised her voice, yelling into the phone, “She will kill me if you come.”

Calmly and in a normal volume, Gwen said, “I assume that means Worth is in Vegas?”

“Grrrr. You people!”

John tried not to wince at the sound of Lizzie clenching and grinding her teeth together. But he didn’t say a word.

Lizzie continued her tirade. “Good grief. This Margot woman is hardly any better.”

John cleared his throat and replied, “He’s on the way. We have a rendezvous tomorrow that he’s theoretically unaware of.”

“Oh, excellent,” Gwen replied excitedly. “I haven’t been ambushed in ages—what fun.”

Lizzie walked away, and over her shoulder she said, “I’m locking myself in the bathroom and I’m not coming out.”

“She’ll be fine,” John said without great conviction.

“Most definitely. Give her a few minutes and she’ll cool down. Lizzie doesn’t hold a grudge.” Gwen sounded a lot more convincing.

“You’re packing?”

“As we speak. I’ll be ready in five. Kenna will swing by and pick up the dogs, I’m sure.”

Gwen had a go bag. That was interesting. “You have some history with Thad?” he asked.

“Hmm. My coven does. He’s on our top ten list of up-and-coming Pain in the Asses.”

John wasn’t sure how to respond to that. He didn’t exactly have one of those lists. “I’ll have Max call with details shortly. And thanks for taking care of Lizzie’s dogs. With everything being as hectic as it’s been—she really is thankful.”

After he hung up, he called Max and sorted out the details to get Gwen added to the passenger list—and found out Logan was hitching a ride. Not what John wanted to hear, but once Logan committed to an action he was difficult to sway. He shook his head. And, honestly, he needed the help.

After John got off the phone he busied himself making a few notes and organizing his thoughts. What they knew, what they thought they knew, and what was a huge open question. He pulled out his laptop and checked the location of the airstrip that Worth was supposedly flying into, which was different from the airport where Max’s flight was coming. How many damn private strips did Vegas have?

He pulled up a street view. He, Max, and Ben would do a quick recon this evening, after they’d all been briefed. But it looked pretty obvious—one small building and otherwise nothing but space.

Looking at the hotel clock, John figured it had been about thirty minutes since Lizzie locked herself in the bathroom. From the noises he’d heard while he was making notes, she’d been taking a bath—not having a meltdown. Well, hopefully not doing both.

He walked over and tapped the door lightly.

“Go away.”

Hmm. She didn’t actually sound mad.

“Are you sure?”

She grumbled something unintelligible. “No.” And then another grumble followed by, “It’s not locked.”

He stepped in and closed the door behind him. The small bathroom was warm and humid and the draft wouldn’t be welcome, he was sure.

“You brought bubble bath?” That was an interesting packing item, given they’d packed in haste. She was covered up to her shoulders in bubbles, but he could see just a hint of bare breast.

“Shampoo, actually.” She grinned. “A whole lot of your really expensive shampoo. Which I still think is funny. For a not-vain guy, you have really fancy shampoo and shaving cream.”

He sat on the edge of the tub. “They were a gift. But you said you liked the way they smell, so I keep buying it.”

She laughed. “That explains a lot.” Her mouth twisted a bit. “Sorry. I used almost all of it.”

He sighed. “And I’m sorry your friend’s mom might be in danger coming here.”

She scrunched up her nose. “But not that she’s coming.”

He ran a fingertip from her neck to the edge of her shoulder, loving the feel of soap and silky skin. “Not if it means we have a better chance of coming through tomorrow in one piece.”

“Gah.” She ducked her head under the bubbles. When her head popped up, she wiped the soapy water carefully from her eyes. After a few seconds of thoughtful silence, she said, “I hate that you’re right.”

Chapter 33

F
resh scrubbed after her bath but not really feeling refreshed, Lizzie joined John to review his notes. One unexpected advantage to her bubble bath was the comforting feeling of smelling like John. It was such a silly, small thing, but she’d take it.

Something else had cropped up as a bothersome thought when she was bathing. “I think you should let Tom know that all heck is about to break loose in his backyard. He should leave town as soon as he can.” She dug around in her bag until she found his card. Handing the card to John, she quietly said, “Call him.”

John looked at the card briefly, and then he picked up his cell and dialed.

His tone respectful, he said, “Hi, Tom, this is John. I’m sorry to bother you. Lizzie and I thought—well, that you might want to consider a short vacation.” John’s face remained expressionless as he listened to Tom’s reply. Then he said, “I see. I’m glad.” Pause. “Thank you again for inviting us into your home and answering questions for us.” Pause. “I will.” And he ended the call.

“He decided about five minutes after we left that something big was going on and he’d be better off nowhere near it. He’s already out of town at a friend’s house. Oh—he also says hi to you. At least
you
made a favorable impression.”

“That’s nice. Maybe something good will come of this visit. Maybe we can start some kind of formal communication with him.” Lizzie tried not to sound too hopeful. Banished was
bad.
Maybe there was no coming back from that.

John shook his head at her. “I’ve already contacted James to get his thoughts about bringing Tom back home.”

Lizzie couldn’t hide her excitement.

Holding up a hand, John said, “Wait a second. He may not even want to come back.”

Lizzie smiled. “That may not matter. Just knowing that he can come home may make all the difference in the world.”

“Okay—if you say so. Let’s grab a bite to eat. We can order in and start coming up with some kind of plan in case this isn’t actually a trap.”

“And naturally a plan for the trap we’re sure that this is going to be.”

“Exactly.”

Two hours later they had the beginnings of a plan that John could bounce off the crew. It would get them started on brainstorming and problem solving. John wasn’t committed to a particular course of action yet, because there were too many moving parts with unknown magical variables. So he wanted everyone involved in the planning stages.

Glancing at the clock, he said, “It’s about that time. I’m glad I upgraded the rental car to an SUV—Logan’s coming, too.”

“I see danger. Let me run toward it,” she said in a gruff, funny voice.

He gave her a confused look.

“What? That’s my impression of knuckle-headed men, including, but not limited to, you, Logan, and Max.”

“Not fair and you know it.” He grabbed the car key and hotel key card. “Don’t forget to do your thing.”

Lizzie laid a sensing ward. She’d figured out through trial and error that her sensing wards didn’t alert her if she was more than a few blocks away. She’d have to ask Harrington if there was a trick to his wards, because he could be much farther from his. But she fiddled around with hers enough to create a ward that changed colors when triggered. Good enough if she wanted to know if someone had snooped or rigged her personal space. Her next project was to see if she could get the color to vary based on specific factors—but she hadn’t gotten that far yet.

“Whatever. I’m allowed to make fun. I’m super grumpy because we just spent the last two hours trying to figure out a way not to die. Give a girl a break.” She sighed wistfully. “A vacation sounds fabulous right now. Actually, even taking a vacation from danger and going back to our real jobs sounds marvelous.”

“Hmm,” he replied, not looking in her direction. “Ow.” He rubbed his arm and shot her a significant look. “I thought we talked about hitting people we loved.”

“I didn’t hit you. I flicked you with a finger because you weren’t paying attention. I’m sure it’s being around all this violence and aggression that makes me want to thwack things.”

“As long as you’re hitting me, flicking me, or thumping me, I’m saying ouch.” He paused for a second. “Unless we’re having sex.”

Choking on a laugh, she said, “Okay, fair enough.”

Man, she really was a grump. Even the thought of slightly kinky sex didn’t improve her mood. She needed to find her happy place before Kenna’s mom arrived.

It took them about thirty minutes to make their way to the small airport where the plane was scheduled to land. By the time they arrived, Lizzie could at least manage a fake smile. That would have to do, because Gwen was heading to the car. Ohmygosh. In skinny jeans, a tight tee, and a black leather jacket. A black leather jacket. Once Lizzie’s shock wore off, she had to give Gwen some credit. She was rocking the leather. Even more shocking, she was rocking the skinny jeans. No one looked good in skinny jeans.

“Lizzie, dear, don’t look so shocked.” Gwen hugged her. “I didn’t blink an eye when you went blonde.” And then she kissed her on the cheek.

Lizzie couldn’t help but laugh. “You look wonderful, Gwen. But let’s agree never to mention the blonde year ever again.”

Greetings all around followed, and then Logan, Ben, and Max piled into the truck with Gwen. Lizzie drove and John went through the events of the last few days, making sure everyone was up to speed.

“Any questions?” John asked.

“Yes,” Gwen said, raising her hand politely from the mid-row back seat. “I know I’ve mentioned it already, but just making sure everyone’s on the same page—we all know this is a trap, right?”

“Yeah,” John said. “And if it’s not, Thad may not be in Vegas any longer. He seems to come and go with more frequency than Margot.” John looked over his shoulder, adding in an apologetic tone, “It might be a wasted trip for you, Gwen.”

“No trip is wasted when in the pursuit of justice,” Gwen said with a merry lilt to her voice that Lizzie recognized but found disconcerting in this situation. Then it hit her—what exactly that meant in the larger scheme of her and Kenna’s lives.

“Oh, Gwen,” Lizzie exclaimed. A tiny piece of her heart broke for Kenna. “All those quilt shows, and the yarn scouting trips, and the knitting festivals. You weren’t actually doing any of that, were you?”

“Sorry, Lizzie, but no.” Gwen’s unapologetic tone contradicted her words.

Lizzie felt betrayed in a way she hadn’t when she’d found out Gwen was a witch. Those trips had been an important part of Gwen’s life, had defined her in some way—or so she’d thought. So Kenna had likely thought.