Witch's Diary: A Paranormal Urban Fantasy Tale (Lost Library Book 4) (10 page)

Kenna groaned.

“He didn’t hurt anything, Kenna. But he got your mom’s address book. John’s keeping the original safe here. But I’ve got a scanned copy, and we’re both going to look through it on the way to Prague.”

“We’re gonna find Mom’s crew.” The idea of making progress, not to mention meeting some of her mom’s secret buddies, significantly brightened Kenna’s mood.

Lizzie smiled. “We are.”

Max called out, “You guys ready?”

“Bathroom break before we head out?” Lizzie asked.

Kenna laughed. “That’s not quite a thing yet. Although I’m sure it will be soon.”

“Sorry.” Lizzie called out, “We’re coming.”

~*~

The tension between Max and Kenna had broken—mostly due to Max, Kenna had to admit. He was such an easygoing guy, and he was making an effort. So the car ride to the airport passed quickly. Kenna couldn’t get there fast enough. She wanted her hands on that address book.

Once they’d all been seated, Max and Jack near the front of the plane, and Kenna and Lizzie near mid-rear, Kenna pounced. “Let’s do it.”

“Oh! The address book. Absolutely.” Lizzie dug out her tablet.

“I figured we could go through the entries and label them with their connection to Mom. From there, we further subdivide into more and less likely to be witches. Once we’ve narrowed the list, we’ll call.”

Lizzie looked bemused. “And say what exactly?”

Kenna shrugged. “Something about a surprise party that I’m planning. Those details we’ll sort as soon as we have an actual list.”

Heads close together, they studied the address book entries. They jogged one another’s memory and made notes. Several were longtime family friends; many were labeled clearly as plumber, dentist, roofer, cleaning service. Some popped up under her mom’s Facebook with pictures that either Kenna or Lizzie recognized and could place within a specific context.

She couldn’t believe all of the shared memories she and Lizzie had. How much a part of each other’s lives they’d become over the years. Lizzie knew almost as much about Gwen’s life as Kenna did. It boggled her mind.

“Hey.” Lizzie jabbed an elbow in Kenna’s ribs. “Check this out. I think this one is that dentist she tried after the old one retired. Remember? She fired him after he told her she should consider getting her teeth whitened because it would make her look younger. She’s put a little dagger next to his name.” Seeing Kenna’s disbelief, she added, “No joke. Check it out.” Lizzie pointed to a tiny picture next to the entry.

Kenna giggled.

Lizzie giggled, too. “It was funny, the way she told the story.”

Kenna didn’t have the heart to tell her she couldn’t remember that story to save her life, but Lizzie had just proved her point. She was an incredibly important part of her life. “This would be a lot easier if Mom had just created a Facebook group or a Google Plus circle called ‘witches.’”

“Or some bizarre, obscure name that we could guess meant witches.” Lizzie’s brow was wrinkled. “I think we should be able to get at least seventy-five percent of these categorized. I’m not sure I could do the same for my parents. Between antiquing, bridge, and about five other retirement hobbies, they have a whole circle of friends that I don’t know.”

“Mom is very present in my life. Maybe because it’s always been just the two of us.” Kenna suddenly realized it wouldn’t be just her and her mom. Her little family was growing. “Will you be my little girl’s godmother?”

“Oh.” Lizzie’s laughter stopped abruptly. “Yes. Of course.” She cocked her head to the side. “Or your little boy’s?”

“Yes—that’s what I meant.”

Lizzie didn’t say anything, just grabbed Kenna and hugged her. Then she squealed in Kenna’s ear. Moment killed. Trying to block out the ringing in her left ear, Kenna decided, no, the moment was murdered.

~*~

Max winced.

“What the hell are they doing?” Jack looked appalled.

“You know that’s a happy noise, right?” Max leaned back in his seat, examining Jack.

“Yeah, but my eardrums will never be the same. I’ll bitch over here at our end of the plane, and they’ll never know.” Jack cracked his neck. “I hate flying—did I mention?”

“You definitely did not, but it’s hard to miss. I can give you a few flying lessons. It might cure you.” Max raised his eyebrows. “Especially if it’s a control issue.”

“That might do it. Or make me so terrified I’ll never get on a plane again. Pass.” Jack looked uncomfortable. “But, ah, thanks.”

Max had put it off as long as he could stand, and he and Jack were at least having something close to a conversation now. Might as well ask. “So how’d the doctor’s appointment go?”

“She didn’t say, other than ‘fine.’” Jack shifted in his seat. “But I’m just a friend. You’re the kid’s father. You should ask her yourself.”

“Ha, no. She can barely look at me, let alone hold a conversation. You’d think after we had lunch together and managed a semi-adult conversation, she’d be more comfortable.”

“Yeah, not so much. You need to ask her about her asshole ex-husband. Or better yet, don’t.” Jack leaned his seat back and shrugged his shoulders into the seatback. “It’s like these seats are calculated to be about three inches too narrow.”

“Her ex-husband?”

“Yeah. A complete shit. Kenna’s still convinced he was a good guy put in an untenable situation. Bullshit. He wouldn’t consider adoption. He wanted her to keep taking a bunch of drugs that made her miserable. And the worst part—she convinced herself it was what she wanted, too. She finally saw the light, and he left her without flinching.” Jack’s hands clenched on the armrest. “I really hate flying.”

“So you said.”

“No, what I’m saying is that you’ve caught me in a vulnerable moment. You pried the information from me while I was in fear for my life. Or some similar bull. Because if she finds out I’m spilling her personal shit to you, she’ll roast me alive—fire magic or no.”

“Not a word, I got it.”

“And?” Jack prompted him.

“And if she does find out, I pried it from your terrified, near-death lips.”

“Bingo.” Jack shut his eyes. “If I actually manage to fall asleep, wake my ass up in an hour or so, will you?”

Max shook his head. “Sure.”

Jack’s face wasn’t exactly relaxed, but he looked calm. Not for the first time, Max wondered about the man’s relationship with Kenna. Max couldn’t detect any signs of romance—or sex—between the two, but Jack clearly had strong feelings for Kenna. Beyond strong. He’d about busted a blood vessel talking about Kenna’s ex.

Max kicked back his own seat. If past experience proved true, sleep would be in short supply over the next few days. Better to grab rest when possible than agonize over an irrational jealousy of Jack. Although was his jealousy so irrational? It had been Jack who’d held Kenna’s hand at the doctor’s office. Not Max.

Max closed his eyes and feigned sleep.

Chapter 8

Kenna remembered the dark red doors and the height of the house. The building that housed the magical library, the lost but now found library, was noticeably taller than the neighboring row houses. But she hadn’t remembered it being such a cheerful place. She squinted up at the windows on the second and third floors. Yes—those were flower boxes in the window. And the shutters were painted a light shade of green, an interesting and attractive combination with the deep red door and trim.

It made sense that what had once been a prison of sorts was now homier. IPPC staff lived on site; this building was their home.

“Hey. Are you okay?” Max asked.

“Huh?” Kenna felt jet-lagged, and not at her best. But she could usually do better than “huh” on her worst day. Why did Max make her so nervous, still?

“You’ve been staring at the front door for a while now.” He had several bags in hand and had apparently stopped when he saw her staring off into space like an idiot.

Jack ignored them entirely and knocked on the door. Lizzie stood next to him, studiously admiring her shoes—and leaving Max and Kenna to their own devices. Kenna almost snorted in laughter. The whole situation was comical except for the fact that she was in the middle of it.

“All good—thanks. Just thinking the house had changed since I’d been here.”

Max gave her a puzzled look. “Okay. So you’re okay?”

“Yeah.” Kenna nodded toward the opening door. “Time to head in.”

A few minutes later, one of the staff had assigned them each to a room. Kenna, Lizzie, and Max were on the third floor, but Jack had opted to stay with the security staff on the fifth floor. Once the rooms were sorted, the woman assigned to greet them took Lizzie aside, spoke with her briefly, and left.

“All right—I’m off to get debriefed on Harrington’s project. Pilar’s waiting for me. Since it’s technically the start of the day, I’m going to push through and cross my fingers that the long nap I grabbed on the plane will get me through the day.” She wrinkled her nose in displeasure. “You guys may not see me all day.” Turning to Kenna, Lizzie said, “Maybe you should get a little rest? After you see Harrington, I mean.”

Kenna nodded, though she doubted it would be possible for her to sleep, as cranked up over her mom’s disappearance as she was.

Lizzie headed down to the basement, where Kenna knew most of the magical books were still kept. So maybe Lizzie’s mysterious project was a book problem? It made sense that Lizzie’s ultra-secret trade with Harrington was for work on a magical book problem. Magical book deciphering was one of Lizzie’s superpowers. Kenna chuckled. That drove Lizzie nuts. Not a superpower, a talent. Like there was a difference.

“Shit.” Kenna bit back another chuckle—she had a superpower. When she thought about it that way, it seemed cool. Where was Harrington? She had to pee.

Looking up, she saw two pairs of male eyes staring at her curiously.

“What?” She hated missing the punch line, especially when she was it.

Max and Jack exchanged a look, but neither said a word.

“When did you get guys get to be so tight?”

Max perked up and said, “Harrington.”

Looking over her shoulder, Kenna saw Harrington approaching from the hallway.

Any respite from tension Kenna had felt vanished. “Hey, Harrington.”

He reached out and clasped Kenna’s hand. “I know the circumstances are especially difficult with your mother missing, but I wanted to offer my congratulations.”

Was that bastard congratulating her for joining the elite ranks of the magically talented or on her pregnancy? That was unkind, and Lizzie would not approve. Kenna gave herself a tiny mental kick. She composed herself and said, “Thank you. Can you get the funds released? At least some of them?”

“No. There’s no possibility. The funds are no longer controlled by IPPC. A number of mainstream policing organizations hold them.”

Kenna felt a hand under her elbow. She turned to find Max standing next to her, avoiding eye contact. She pulled her arm away and moved out of reach. “What can you do? You must have had some idea when you spoke with us.”

Harrington murmured an agreement. “Let’s take this conversation into my office.”

Kenna glared holes in Harrington’s back all the way down the hallway.

Jack slipped next to her and put his arm around her. He squeezed her uncomfortably close.

She jabbed him hard in the ribs.

He hung on with a steely arm and whispered in her ear, “Watch it. Unpredictable, remember?”

“Crap,” Kenna muttered. “Rainbows and kittens, rainbows and kittens.”

Jack let go of her. “Good start, but you don’t actually like kittens. Although how a person can dislike kittens…”

They arrived at Harrington’s office, and Harrington didn’t have a single scorch mark on him. Bonus.

As she walked through the door, she mouthed to Jack, “Thanks.”

She shrugged. Jack was stronger than he realized. Mental note: no focused hate, ill will, or bad feelings. She could do that. Generalized hate, ill will, and bad feelings with no specific target were just fine, so she should be good. And she had that trick, the candle one. Redirect her magic. Although how to safely do that—and without a candle—she hadn’t mastered. She’d work on that pronto. Or carry candles.

“What’s your plan? My mom’s got days before her trial. And who knows when those crazies will decide to speed up the schedule or…or hurt her.” Kenna looked around the room. “Do you have any candles?”

Harrington seemed nonplussed by her request, but he dug around in his bottom drawer and produced two emergency candles, much like what she’d practiced on at home. With her mom.

As Harrington handed her the candles, he asked, “Do I want to know?”

Jack answered before she could. “No.”

“Whatever.” Giving Harrington the stink eye, she said, “Just in case you piss me off. Lizzie doesn’t think you’re Satan, and my mom needs you.” She saw he still didn’t get it. “Fire witch—I set things on fire when they piss me off.” It was a slight exaggeration, but she was okay with that. “Better the candle than you?”

Kenna could have sworn Harrington mumbled something less than complimentary about witches. Or not. His lips had barely twitched.

Harrington held up a hand to forestall any further comments. “I’ve got a plan. My tech people traced the account number Margot provided to her bank. They’re working on cloning the login portal now. Once the cloned login is available and she actually logs in, Margot will be seamlessly redirected to a dummy site, where she’ll observe what appears to be the transfer of funds into her account. Naturally, we’ll negotiate with her. Both to delay her—as you said, Kenna, we don’t want them to hasten the trial—and to give credence to our agreement. Even though she asked for everything, she’ll be looking for the liquid assets. She knows real estate could never be managed within the time she’s allowed. That gives us room to negotiate.”

“So you fool Margot for a few hours. How does that help Mom? Actually, that’s a terrible plan. Not only do you not help her, you’ve pissed off everyone involved with any power to hurt her. Once Margot discovers the transfer is a sham, they’ll kill Mom for sure.” Kenna couldn’t keep the incredulity out of her voice.

Harrington looked uncomfortable. “The cloned banking site is just the first part of the plan. The second part is the incorporation of a geo-location trap within the cloned site.”