Spirited Legacy (Lost Library) by Kate Baray Page B

sound check. They were surrounded by silence interrupted only by the slow, even breathing of a few sleeping people. That was the beauty of first class: you could actually sleep if you chose to.
    “True. It wouldn’t mean anything to anyone else.” He grinned. “And no one else would have created such a massive electronic footprint searching for magic books.”
    “Can a girl not Google in privacy anymore?” She huffed in annoyance.
    “No.” He rubbed his chin. He’d need a shave when they landed. Maybe he’d grab a quick shower at the IPPC before he picked Lizzie back up at the care facility. “But a typical Record Keeper comes from a family who actually shares their history. You’re an anomaly, not having known anything about magic.”
    “But it’s possible she could have not known, or kept it a secret?” Lizzie persisted.
    “Possible, but unlikely. And as for not knowing, you’d have known if some unknown relative hadn’t put your magic to sleep when you were young.” He flipped up the armrest between them so he could pull her tight against him.
    He knew she didn’t like the uncertain cloud that hung over her family history. She didn’t know it, but he’d asked Christine to do some digging. John hoped that with a little more information about her family, Harrington—or one of his contacts—could pinpoint the magical branch. If someone had locked up his magic, he’d sure as hell want to know who—and why.
    “That’s true. According to Pilar, most children know before puberty but certainly no later than their early teens.” She tipped her head back into his shoulder. “Even if she was very young and didn’t know, that still doesn’t explain how the book ended up with her. Maybe you’re right, and she wasn’t affiliated with the Pack and stumbled on the book.”
    He hoped that was the case. If she’d been a Pack member and left around the seventies, his father had been involved. And there had certainly been blood, as well as the rage and insanity that had always followed his father.
     

Chapter 9
     
     
    “I ’m here to see Sarah Melton.” Lizzie spoke with greater confidence than she felt. John had left her at the front door of the care facility, but only after she’d shoved him back into their cab. She could do this. And if she couldn’t, she was an idiot for insisting John leave her at the door.
    The nurse typed in the computer and asked her, “Your name?”
    Lizzie paused a second—Harrington wouldn’t dare. “Lizzie Smith.”
    The nurse didn’t even look twice. “Here. I’ve got Elizabeth Smith Braxton listed as an approved visitor. Can I see your ID?”
    Lizzie handed over her ID.
    Harrington was an ass. She wasn’t changing her name. No way. She wasn’t married. It’s a good thing John hadn’t come with her, because she’d likely have thrown something at him. Even though it was Harrington who’d made the arrangements…yep, she’d still have blamed John. Sometimes, life wasn’t fair.
    Apparently, “Elizabeth Smith” on her ID was sufficient, because the nurse asked her to have a seat and told her someone would be by to escort her to Sarah’s room. So Lizzie sat inside a private long-term care facility, in a quiet and well-appointed lounge area, waiting to see a woman she’d never been introduced to, who might never wake up. A woman who had sustained her injuries saving Lizzie. The amorphous feeling of guilt that had hovered in the back of her mind for several days now clawed its way forward. She was responsible, if indirectly, for Sarah’s condition.
    As her escort appeared, Lizzie realized the inside of her lip was throbbing where she’d been unknowingly biting it. She followed the uniformed staff member into Sarah’s private room. With a few quietly murmured instructions, Lizzie was left alone with Sarah. No equipment, no bandages, no visible sign of her condition at all. Just a slight, pale form on a bed.
    Lizzie approached Sarah’s bed, unsure of the