Hint of Danger, page 7
part #1 of Undercover Magic Series
“What can I do for you?” he asked.
Finley flashed some sort of pass. “We’re escorting our newest researcher, Ms. Jones.”
The old man glanced at Lina with a nod. “Which stack?”
Nord and Finley frowned at each other, unprepared for the question.
The man at the desk raised his brows, his attention sharpening as he leveled shrewd eyes on Lina. “You don’t know what you’re studying?”
“Genealogy,” Finley cut in smoothly, answering for her.
“And anything that would catalog significant markings, like tattoos, birthmarks, those kinds of things,” she added.
The old man turned thoughtful, his hand rubbing his chin as he nodded. “If it’s pictures you’re interested in, probably best to start with the census books. They document all registered supernaturals as far back as the eighteen-hundreds. How far you looking to go?”
That was a tough question. Lina had no clue how long she’d been dead. Time blurred, losing all meaning as years faded into one long stretch.
“Uh . . .”
“The last fifty years,” Nord cut in, “to start.”
The librarian, as Lina was starting to think of him, nodded. “Very well. Give me some time and I’ll get a table set up for Ms. Jones.” He started to turn, but Finley stopped him.
“Actually, my partner and I have business down here as well.”
The librarian lifted his brows, waiting for them to continue. Finley pulled out another form, this one causing the man’s eyes to widen as he looked from the document and back up to Fin.
“The vaults?” he asked.
Finley nodded. “We know the way.”
The librarian looked equal parts relieved and impressed. He eyed Finley and Nord with a new measure of respect. “Suit yourselves. If there’s nothing else . . .”
“That’ll be all.”
With a little nod, the older man turned and disappeared through a door on the left.
“What was all that about?” Lina asked.
Finley’s face was suspiciously blank as he asked, “What do you mean?”
Lina tried to recreate the librarian’s shocked expression and wary voice as he’d asked about the vaults.
Nord suppressed his smile, but his eyes danced with laughter. Finley was less successful, chuckling as he shook his head.
“Just an area that isn’t accessed often.”
That was probably true, but she’d bet there was far more to it. They were keeping something from her. Why?
“We should probably get a move on. It’s easy to get lost down there,” Finley said, looking purposefully at Nord.
Nord glanced at Lina and the waiting room, clearly not liking the idea of leaving her on her own.
“She’ll be fine. The archivist will be right back,” Finley said. “The bureau is probably one of the safest places on Earth for our Lina.”
Lina mentally congratulated herself. Librarian, archivist . . . she’d been pretty close, although, archivist was a little on the nose if you asked her.
While she was patting herself on the back, Nord’s frown deepened.
“Go,” she insisted. “I’ll be fine.”
His eyes searched hers, flitting between her and the elevator in a silent question. He was worried whatever hidden fear had been triggered in the elevator might return.
Her heart melted at the display of concern. “I’ll be fine,” she repeated. “Promise.”
He took a deep breath before nodding slowly. “All right, but stay put until the archivist comes back. And don’t talk to anyone.”
Lina’s brows snapped together, her stomach twisting unhappily at the tone of his voice. She couldn’t pinpoint exactly why, but his order chaffed. It seemed to poke at her judgment and ability to take care of herself in a way that she didn’t appreciate. She buried the feeling, certain he hadn’t meant anything by it outside of wanting her to be as safe as possible.
“Who exactly do you think I’m going to talk to down here?” she asked flippantly, gesturing to the empty room.
“Okay, smart-ass,” Nord said, gifting her with a small smile, “just stay put. We’ll meet you as soon as we’re done.”
She gave him a little salute and settled herself into one of the chairs lining the walls. Nord shook his head as he and Finley started off in the opposite direction the archivist had taken. She watched them retreat, appreciating the way Nord’s muscles flexed beneath his tailored shirt and pants.
Despite the trappings of civility, there was something about the coiled grace with which he moved that made her think of wild things. He was a predator hiding in plain sight. All the more dangerous because his ability to blend in meant that no one would see him coming until after he’d already struck.
The realization should have frightened her. There was so little she knew about the man she’d tied her fate to, but if anything, it only made her curious to learn more. He might be a predator, but he was her predator. All that leashed violence was hers to command.
Lina shivered, the tiny hairs on the back of her neck lifting as hundreds of goosebumps appeared on her arms. It was like her body couldn’t decide if it was hot or cold.
Nord paused, turning back to give Lina a final, searching look.
Hot, she decided. Definitely hot.
Chapter Nine
Lina
As the minutes slipped by, so did Lina’s posture. She’d started straight-backed, hands clasped in her lap, legs crossed at the knees. She ended up with her head propped in one hand, the fingers of the other tapping impatiently on the chair’s arm, with her legs sprawled out in front of her.
She was convinced the archivist had forgotten all about her. The old bookworm had probably been led astray by some hereto undiscovered tome, with its musty smell and promise of some rare and ancient mystery just waiting to be uncovered. There was no other explanation for how thirty minutes had passed without sign of him. How long did it take to pull out some record books?
A clock ticked overhead, the sound seeming amplified with each new rotation. Lina felt her eye twitch.
“Where is he?” she growled, pulling herself up to start pacing as a restless thrum of energy pushed her to do something.
Lina hadn’t pegged herself as impatient, especially given her history—what else was there to do as a ghost but wait? And she was perfectly happy to wait for Nord to reveal his secrets. Okay, maybe not happy exactly, but willing to give it time. It wasn’t like she could offer him any of hers, so it was hardly fair to demand his. However, it seemed that now that answers were within her reach, she’d lost all sign of her chill.
Lina began counting her steps.
One. Two. Three. Four.
It took twenty-six steps from the elevator back to the desk.
Fifty. Fifty-one. Fifty-two.
Her jaw clenched as she pivoted and continued wearing a path in the carpet. She’d just reached two hundred when she gave up waiting and went off in the direction the archivist had taken.
There wasn’t far to go, just a short hallway that ended with two towering doors. Not giving herself a chance to think through what she was doing, Lina opened one of the doors and stepped into what could only be the archive.
The room was massive, filled with antique-looking wooden desks and chairs. Rows of bookcases lined the surrounding walls, while dozens of chandeliers provided the perfect amount of ambient light. Nothing too bright or distracting. The entire room seemed decorated with a scholar’s comfort in mind.
Lina’s eyes scanned the bookcases, searching for a sign of the pepper-haired man. It wasn’t hard to find him. Well, technically she noticed the half-dozen books floating through the air as they slid in and out of place on their various shelves first, but the archivist was only a quick glance down.
Angling in his direction, she passed a frazzled-looking woman muttering to herself about the buoyancy of mermaid fins. Lina hurried away as soon as the words ‘skinned versus fresh’ left her lips.
From there it was only a few more steps until she reached her target. Wanting to get his attention, but afraid her interruption might cause the books still airborne to come crashing down, Lina opted for clearing her throat.
The archivist glanced her way, his outstretched hand easily catching a book as it floated down from a shelf high above him. “Ah, Ms. Jones. Was something wrong with the waiting room?” His slight smile removed the reproach from his words.
Her irritation at the delay dissipated as embarrassment took its place. “No, I’m sorry. Guess I’m just eager to begin.”
He nodded. “Being in the archives is a privilege awarded to few. I can understand your eagerness. This was actually the last of the books I was hunting down for you. If you’ll follow me, I’ll show you to your station.”
Lina rubbed suddenly sweaty palms against her denim-clad legs. “Please, lead the way.”
The archivist escorted her deeper into the cavernous room, showing her to a table about halfway down the left-most aisle. “Here we are. Please let me know if you need anything else,” he said with a small lift of his lips before turning on his heel and heading away.
“Thanks,” she called to his retreating back, a little confused by the abrupt departure, but too focused on the pile of tomes in front of her to give it much thought.
Running a hand over the thick brown leather cover of the closest one, Lina gave a final scan of the room, spotting only two other researchers, before pulling the chair with its emerald-green cushions out and sitting down.
Stomach filled with nervous flutters, Lina blew out a breath and opened the first book.
Ninety minutes, and three books later, she knew her search was doomed. Interesting, but doomed. Pages and pages of faces and descriptions filled each book. Almost like a supernatural yearbook with a list of abilities accompanying each photo instead of accomplishments. Thin white lines linked pictures to show familial relationships, with almost microscopic dates to indicate birth or death. In theory, this was exactly what she was looking for. The problem was she was still on the As. It could be years before she stumbled across a familiar face this way.
Overwhelmed, Lina let her book fall closed and her eyes wander. They settled almost immediately on an older gentleman seated about five tables away. She had every intention of continuing her mindless perusal of the room, but there was something that held her attention captive. It wasn’t that she recognized him; his mostly bald head with its ring of thin white hair, caterpillar eyebrows, and thin-framed gold glasses were completely foreign. If anything, it was the methodical—bordering on ritualistic—way he seemed to scan each page before jotting down notes in his elegant leather-bound journal. Each movement was so careful, so calculated, it granted them an importance they might have otherwise lacked. He even paused now and then to realign the book’s position on the table, smoothing its pages down, before lifting his pen once more and resuming his work.
She was fascinated.
At one point, he pulled out a snow-white handkerchief, removed his spectacles, and began wiping the lenses. It provided Lina with her first unimpeded view of his face, and she felt her heart clench at the unmistakable grief etched in each line. She’d witnessed enough heartbreak in her ghostly lifetime to recognize the symptoms. It was like his facial muscles forgot how to defy gravity and could do little more than sag in their cocoons of flesh. And there was a brokenness about the eyes; like one morning he’d woken up and the world didn’t make sense anymore.
His sadness washed over her, distracting her from her own purpose entirely. She was betting he was a recent widow, consumed by loneliness and filling his days with a series of mundane and otherwise meaningless tasks, all in the hopes that doing so would distract him long enough that he’d manage to get through another one. That was the story she created for him, anyway. He could very well be a retired scholar, spending his free time doing what he loved.
Somehow, she doubted the latter.
She sat for five more minutes, half-heartedly trying to talk herself out of what she was thinking about doing. In the end, it didn’t matter. She couldn’t have stopped herself even if she’d actually wanted to.
Lina pushed back from her desk and stood.
Nord’s order echoed in her mind. “Don’t talk to anybody.”
She ignored it. She’d already broken the one to stay put, what was one more?
Besides, he’d said that when she’d been out in the waiting room when anybody could wander by. This was a grieving old man. What was the harm?
Satisfied that her logic was sound, even as another, wiser, part of her knew Nord would wholeheartedly disagree, Lina found herself standing a few steps away from his desk.
“Hello,” she greeted softly, not wanting to startle him.
The gentleman looked up, the move initiated by his eyes before the rest of his head slowly followed. Lina fidgeted nervously as rheumy blue eyes stared at her under an umbrella of storm-cloud colored brows. She gathered he was trying to place her, since she had to assume it was uncommon for complete strangers to start up conversations for no reason.
“Hello,” he finally replied, his voice surprising her with its resonance and strength.
He appeared almost frail sitting there, there was even a cane propped against the desk, but there was nothing frail about that voice. Lina’s curiosity piqued higher.
She hadn’t thought through her plan, well, at all. She’d been so caught up in wanting to ease some of that loneliness that she hadn’t thought about what to do after coming over to say hello.
“What are you researching?” she asked, hoping that wasn’t some kind of invasion of privacy.
Given the slight raise of his bushy eyebrows, it definitely was.
“If you don’t mind my asking,” she hurriedly added.
There was a slight glimmer in his eyes now that could have been curiosity or amusement.
Words continued pouring out of her mouth and heat stained her cheeks. “You see, I’m supposed to be researching genealogy, but I had no clue just how tedious it was going to be, and you just look so, um . . .” she bit her lip and twisted her hands together, trying to find the right word, “involved with your subject that I figured I must be doing something wrong or that maybe I might need to consider a topic change.” She gave him a wide smile, relieved to offer a seemingly reasonable excuse that also bordered on the truth.
The old man lifted gnarled fingers and covered his mouth.
He was laughing at her.
Flames of embarrassment licked up her neck as her eyes squeezed closed. This had strayed so far from how she’d pictured it going, and she had no clue how to get back on track. All she’d wanted to do was ease some of the pain she’d read on his face, which she guessed she’d accomplished. Although not quite as gracefully as she’d hoped. Why was talking to people so complicated? It always looked so easy.
Lina took a steadying breath and braced herself to try again. The cane caught her attention as her eyes fluttered back open. It was a lacquered black, with an L-shaped handle that had smooth grooves for his fingers on one side, and a metallic object on the other. She wanted to ask him for a better look, but she didn’t think ‘hood ornament’ was the appropriate term to use—although it was the only one that came to mind—and she couldn’t risk making a bigger ass of herself.
“Pretty,” she said instead, pointing at it. “Handmade?” There. Maybe limiting herself to one word at a time would go better than word vomiting all over him.
He dipped his chin in a nod, his eyes still twinkling. “Family heirloom.”
Her knees almost gave, so deep was her relief that he’d actually offered an answer. “It’s lovely. What is that on the end?”
His free hand lifted to cover the object, protecting it from her view. “A part of the family’s crest.”
Well, he clearly didn’t want her snooping, but at least he was talking.
“I, uh, hope I’m not bothering you,” she offered.
His lips twitched beneath his close-cropped whiskers.
She was obviously bothering him, but he was polite enough not to say so. Although, not quite polite enough to deny it.
Lina felt her own lips curl. This entire situation was so completely awkward and not at all what she’d intended. A soft chuckle escaped, and she shook her head. “I’m sorry. I guess I was just looking for a distraction from my research. I’ll leave you to it.”
She started to turn.
“Wait.”
Her eyes darted back to his face.
“What’s your name?”
“Lina,” she said, offering her hand.
He studied it for a moment before holding out his own. She clasped it, surprised once more by the strength she felt beneath his paper-thin skin. There was more to this man than the mantle of grief that hung heavy upon him.
“Lina, I’m Alistair. Nice to meet you. Would you care to join me?” He gestured to the empty chairs on the other side of his desk.
“Are you sure you wouldn’t mind?” she asked, her hand already curling around the backs of one of the chairs.
He shrugged. “I could use the break.”
Lina eased herself into the chair opposite him. “Am I allowed to ask what you’re studying now?”
Alistair answered by turning the book he’d been reading around for her to see. Lina leaned over and scanned the complicated-looking equation that spanned both pages. She couldn’t make heads or tails of the symbols. The words scrawled randomly along the margins didn’t even appear to be in a language she recognized.
“Uh, math?” she guessed.
“Dimensional Mathematics,” he confirmed with an amused expression.
“Cool,” she said, having absolutely no idea what that meant.
“Not as interesting as you were hoping?” he surmised.
“Let’s just say my genealogy books are sounding more and more fascinating.”
When he laughed, Lina felt herself relaxing fully. Apparently, making an ass out of herself was a great way to break the ice after all.
“So, Lina. Tell me. Why genealogy? What brings you to the bureau’s record room?”
