Spirited Legacy (Lost Library) by Kate Baray

changed significantly in a positive way since the last entry must have been made in the book.
    She ran her hand across the soft leather of the cover. It sounded like the book had gone astray before Logan’s tenure as Alpha, and that had been forty or more years ago. Not a bad place to start. When was the last entry?
    Lizzie glanced at John, and she nudged him with her foot. When he glanced up, she said, “You’re sure—”
    But before she could finish her question, John interrupted her. “Yes.”
    He leaned over so his lips were next to her ear. So close, that she could feel the soft exhalation of his breath with each word. “The plane won’t explode if you use magic,” he whispered. “And no one is popping out of the aisle to snag the book.”
    “Am I that paranoid?” She couldn’t prevent the sheepish look that crossed her face.
    “Hmm.” And that noncommittal noise was all the answer she got. John was already typing away on his laptop. Diplomatic of him. There really wasn’t a good response to that question, because clearly the honest answer was “yes.” She mentally shrugged. Who could blame her after all the craziness she’d seen and experienced recently?
    She’d always had magic, but it had been locked away. She hadn’t known she had it, hadn’t even known magic existed. So when it became paramount that she unlock and use her magic, she hadn’t even a hint how to do so. With the help of Pilar—another kidnapped spell caster held by Worth—she reacquired her magic. Then Pilar had given her a crash course in how to use magic, or Magic 101, as Lizzie liked to think of it. Pilar had broken the process down into three easy steps. Primarily because they both anticipated she’d be under great stress when she would be using her magic. Not having grown up with magic, she’d desperately needed the Cliff’s Notes version.
    Step one was to reach inside herself and find her magic. When she’d first tried several days ago, she hadn’t known what she was looking for and it had been difficult—like her magic was reluctant to emerge or was buried deep inside. Then her magic had practically dripped from her fingers—too accessible—and making her worry she’d create some kind of magical disaster. But in the last several days, she felt like she’d gotten to know that part of herself a little. Her magic was there, but it wasn’t burbling like frothy champagne. Settling deeper into the roomy first-class seat, she hunted for the pulsing, glowing, warm bit of herself that was her magic. Eyes closed, she breathed out a small sigh of satisfaction as she found it.
    Second, she had to create a clear mental picture of exactly what she wanted. The one successful experience she’d had trying to pull information from a book, she’d found that crafting the most precise question wasn’t always the most productive option. It was more feeling than logic—so annoying. She wasn’t getting any vibes, so she just asked what she wanted to know. When was the last entry? And then—step three—she pushed. Pilar called it exerting will, but it felt like a mental shove to Lizzie.
    Lizzie’s eyes popped open. “John?”
    He stopped typing and turned to her. “Find something interesting?”
    She nodded. “When did you say the book had gone missing?”
    Small creases appeared at the corners of John’s eyes. Worry or concentration—Lizzy wasn’t certain which. After giving the question some consideration, he said, “It’s difficult to say. Certainly, it wasn’t in our possession in 1980.”
    “Wasn’t that a little before your time?” At his confused look, she clarified. “It’s just, you have such a specific time reference. And you were only around five at the time.”
    “My uncle assumed control in ’79. The transition was not a peaceful one. I’m not sure of many details prior to that year.” His responses were choppy with pauses between each sentence. He’d also become more distant as he spoke, his gaze