Witch's Diary: A Paranormal Urban Fantasy Tale (Lost Library Book 4) (11 page)

Kenna looked around. From the blank looks, no one knew what that was. “A geo-location trap?”

“The trap is similar to a virus. Once Margot accesses the dummy site, she triggers the trap and the virus spreads back into her system. If done correctly, it could tag the origin of any transaction, communication, or interface with other systems, working from the time of infection forward. Possibly stretching back a few days.”

Since Margot would have to contact the kidnappers after the money was transferred, that sounded like a solid start. But then, why did no one look particularly excited, including Harrington?

Looking at the varying levels of discomfort and unease in the group, Kenna decided someone needed to ask. “Okay. What’s the catch?”

Harrington straightened a few papers on his desk before answering. “Very few geo-locaters exist who can manage this type of magic. And the man I had in mind is…difficult.”

Jack looked intrigued. “Difficult to find? Difficult to persuade?”

“IPPC knows where he lives, but we can’t speak with him. It’s impossible to get inside his house, he rarely leaves, and he only lets in people with a standing appointment. People he’s reached out to.”

“How is that even possible?” What the fuck? Kenna had entered the Twilight Zone. “You know what, I don’t care. Can you get him to help?”

Max had been sitting quietly, but he’d shown significant interest when Harrington mentioned the geo-locater. Max answered the question for Harrington, and he sounded not at all happy. “Harrington is glossing over a major bump in the plan. What do we do once we know where your mom is?”

Kenna couldn’t keep the you-dumb-ass look off her face. “We go get her.”

Max looked even more pissed. “Right, a prison break. Our buddy Harrington is throwing the ball back in our court.” Face tight and eyes narrowed, he said, “Unless you’re planning on sending in your security team?”

Harrington shook his head.

“You’ve secured Lizzie by ensuring she’s committed to a separate project. You know John is unavailable. You obviously know she’s pregnant.” Max hitched a thumb in Kenna’s direction, as if he could be talking about anyone else. “Jack and I have no kind of chance against a bunch of witches. And you can’t be guaranteed that Margot will immediately follow up after the fake transfer with her witch contacts—we may not even get Gwen’s location, just Margot’s. You’re an ass, Harrington.”

Wow. Kenna closed her mouth. Wow. Max never got mad. Wow. “What he said.”

Harrington looked unruffled. Of course, it wasn’t his freaking mom.

“I urge you to construct a better plan. I’m eager to hear it, and will participate in whatever capacity is possible. But this is the only viable—” Max interrupted Harrington with a harsh laugh. Harrington gave him a chilly look and continued, “The only viable option I could envision.”

Jack was much calmer than either Kenna or Max. “All right. We’ll give it some thought. But for now, let’s say this is the only option. If someone gets in to see this geo-location guy, is he going to listen? Is he going to agree to help?”

“I think so.” Harrington wasn’t exuding his normal level of arrogant certainty. “He’s a decent man, and his skill as a geo-locater is unparalleled.”

“Shit,” Jack murmured. “Oil, minerals, diamonds.”

“And water.” Harrington took a deep breath. “You see the dilemma. He hides to escape the impossible and frequently unethical demands. I had a way to reach him, but he’s been unresponsive. Your mother’s case might interest him. He might help.”

“His inaccessibility makes more sense to me now. I get in, obtain his cooperation, and get him…where? Here?” Jack asked.

Kenna could see the wheels spinning in Jack’s head. “This is the kind of stuff you’ve been doing, isn’t it?”

“Yeah.” Jack smiled.

“I can’t believe you just admitted that.” Kenna knew his discretion was legendary, but beyond that, Jack didn’t even talk about what he did in general terms.

“I’m actually all out in the open these days. I just knew it drove you nuts not knowing.” Jack hunched his shoulders and ducked his head when she aimed a smack at his head. “Watch it. I’m on Yelp. I have a website. How did you not already know?”

“Grr. Okay. Whatever,” she snapped. “Can you drag this obnoxious little geo-locator back here so he can find my mom?”

Looking at Harrington, Jack said, “Yes. I think I can. If we get him here and he’s willing, you’re sure he can do what you have in mind?”

“Ninety-five percent,” Harrington replied.

If one more person said something idiotic… Kenna smiled and pulled out one of Harrington’s candles, and it immediately flared into a steady flame. Yep. Her magic was there and ready to be used, and she had fire on the brain.

Again, Harrington looked nonplussed.

“Not much experience with fire witches?” Max asked.

“No. Dragon fire is another thing altogether.” Harrington’s eyes didn’t leave the flame. “And there are other elementals. But I’ve no experience with fire witches.” He looked mildly uncomfortable.

Too bad.

“I say ninety-five percent, because what I’m planning hasn’t been done—that I know of. It’s structurally sound, but a high-level geo-locater is hard to find, so not many people would have access to such a skill set.”

Jack looked thoughtful. “I say we move forward with the plan we have until we have a better alternative. I’ll retrieve this guy…?”

“Clifford Dawes,” Harrington said.

“I’ll retrieve Clifford. Max, you’ll stay here and work on Plan B.” Jack didn’t need to mention that Max would be keeping an eye on the newly volatile Kenna. Everyone in the room must have picked up on that.

“And who figures out our prison break?” Kenna asked.

Max said, “I’d say we start with the library under our feet. Harrington, if you can spare someone to help Kenna dig through the books for something that might be helpful?”

“Of course,” Harrington said.

“The Witch’s Diary!” Kenna had almost forgotten. She and Lizzie had talked about having a look at it.

“Yes. It might be relevant, but that particular text is problematic. Lizzie is the only one who’s had any success accessing the contents.” As soon as he finished, Harrington must have realized how his statement would be received. “I—”

“No. You did not just—argh. You cannot tell me that whatever your mysterious problem is, it’s as time-sensitive as my mother’s looming death?” Kenna was going to kill him. Or fry him. Or set the curtains on fire.

“It’s not that simple,” Harrington said.

“Then your answer is ‘no,’ and you would be happy to have my best friend help me save my mother from a horrible death.”

“Uh, there’s only one right answer to that.” Max gave Harrington a sympathetic look.

Yeah, Max just got bumped back up on her shit list. Harrington didn’t deserve anyone’s sympathy. That conniving bastard.

“Absolutely right. I’m sure we can find time for Lizzie to help you with the Witch’s Diary book. And we have a librarian and spell-caster staff who might be of some help in finding other resources.” Harrington didn’t look the least intimidated, and he’d probably already decided to have Lizzie help her before she got pissy. But Kenna couldn’t help but feel a little empowered regardless.

Heart rate back down to a reasonable level, Kenna remembered the little package in her purse. Better to ask now when he was in an accommodating mood.

Kenna yanked a small plastic bag of the tea her mother had given her out of her purse. Holding it up, she asked Harrington, “Do you have a way to have this analyzed?”

“Are you looking for something in particular?”

“No. I’d like a list of ingredients, proportions, that kind of thing. I’d like to reverse-engineer it, if possible.” Kenna couldn’t hide the smile that broke across her face. Harrington looked like he’d been co-opted to participate in something unsavory. Raising her eyebrows, she explained, “It’s a tea my mother gave me to offset the effects of pregnancy.” She paused importantly. “Witchy pregnancy.”

“Ah.” Harrington took the bag from her slowly. A look of concentration passed over his face. “I’m happy to, but I’m not sure that will help. It’s been infused with some kind of magic. Some kind I’m not familiar with, though it seems innocuous.” He opened the bag and shook it slightly, rearranging the contents, and then he took a good sniff. “I can tell you there’s some type of mint and chamomile in the mix. Even with the ingredients, it’s likely useless without whatever magical component that’s been added to this batch.” Harrington shot her a questioning look.

Kenna wavered then decided it couldn’t hurt to know what was in it. “Yes. Do it.” As an afterthought, she added, “Thanks.” She yanked a list from her back pocket. Holding firmly to it, she said, “If I give you a list of, most likely, completely innocent people, can you look them up without messing around in their lives?”

“No. Not without some reason as to why.” Harrington gave her a cool smile. “Since we’re talking about completely innocent people.”

“I just need to know if any of these people are witches. I figured you’d have some massive database and could plug them in.” Okay, it sounded pretty foolish now that Kenna had said it out loud.

Harrington sighed. “Give me the names and I’ll have my people look into them.” He reached for the list, but when she didn’t immediately hand it over, he added, “Discreetly.”

She handed over the list with a reluctant twitch of her lips. She felt like she’d ratted out some poor souls to the IRS, or just Big Brother in general.

“There can be signs that a person is a magic-user. But if you tell me more specifically what I’m looking for…”

Kenna bit her lip. Shit. In for a penny and all that. “My mom has a crew of people she travels with—to craft fairs, supposedly. Lizzie and I were suspicious that wasn’t entirely true, and we brainstormed what we know of her friends. Then we cross-referenced Mom’s Facebook and her address book.” She nodded at the list. “You’re holding the result. That could be a list of old friends, her cleaning lady, and her hair stylist for all we know. But it’s the best we could do.”

“Done. So, if we’ve determined next steps…?” Harrington’s dismissal was polite but clear.

“I’ll just stay a moment and catch the details on Mr. Clifford Dawes. The sooner I’m gone, the quicker I’m back.” Jack gave Kenna a quick hug and steered her out the door.

Which left Kenna and Max in a deserted hallway when Jack closed the door behind them.

Chapter 9

“That could have been worse.” Max was going for optimism, but he might have overshot and landed in the world of Pollyanna. It was actually pretty fucking bad.

“You lie about as well as Lizzie.” Kenna smiled weakly. “But thanks for trying.”

Max started off down the hall. “Not true. Most of the time, I’m an exceptional liar. And a good storyteller.”

“That I believe.” She sounded relieved to be talking about something other than the crap-ass plan Harrington had cobbled together.

Not that he’d come up with any better. Yet. That was top priority, because he wasn’t keen on dying before his kid was born. Fatherhood might have been unexpected, but the more he considered it, the less the idea shocked him. He could do it. He was as sure as a guy with no kids and no idea it was coming could be, anyway.

“Yeah. You know I’m a writer?”

Kenna frowned. “I’m not sure I did know that.” She grimaced slightly. “I thought you might have cash.”

“Sorry, I don’t follow.”

“Cash with a capital C. A trust fund, an invention or a company you sold, something like that.”

“Ah. No, I’m actually currently employed.” He tilted his head. “With incredibly flexible hours at least fifty percent of the time. But definitely employed. Helicopters, international travel, that all costs a lot of money. So retirement isn’t a near-term thing.”

Kenna nodded, lost in thought. She paused in front of the stairs and turned to him. “Have I read anything of yours?”

“That depends on what you read.”

“Hmm.” Kenna gave the question some thought. “Mysteries occasionally, maybe some how-to stuff online, blogs that friends recommend. That’s odd. I used to read a lot more. I’m not really sure when I stopped.”

“Probably not, then.”

She lapsed into silence and continued up the stairs.

He walked quietly next to her, letting her sort through whatever it was that popped into her head.

They passed the first floor before she spoke. “I’m not really sure how my job is going to fit in with motherhood, witchhood, and all the other craziness in my life.” She sighed. “I ‘have the flu’ right now. But that can’t last forever.”

“You’re looking pretty good for a flu patient.”

“Yeah. I never call in sick.” She frowned. “I don’t actually get sick all that often. Which is a good thing, since the office would fall apart without the attorneys’ favorite secretary. Anyway, I gave myself a week. You know, to try to figure out if I could keep my job. If I couldn’t, what I could do. That sort of thing.”

Max was confused. “I thought you liked your job?”

“I do. A lot. I have been doing it a while now, but that’s not it. I mean, is it safe for me to be in the office? I don’t want to hurt anyone.” She held up a hand when he tried to interrupt her. “I know. I don’t really think I’ll hurt anyone seriously. But even something small… And then there’s the whole issue of accidentally outing myself. That would be a nightmare.”

They’d arrived at Kenna’s door, the little plaque next to the door designating it The Violet Room.

Max smiled, remembering his “outed” story. “Have I ever told you how I learned about magic? Well, Lycan, actually. The whole magical community came later.”

“Uh-uh.” She waited, eyes wide.

“You know Christina?”

“Sure. Tall, thin, brown hair, sweet brown eyes. Never in a million would I peg her for Lycan.”

“Right—you know her post-marriage and kid. We were in the military together. She could drink like a sailor and kick some serious ass.” Max crossed his arms and leaned against the wall.

“Huh. Crazy. The ass-kicking part. Apparently, all Lycan can hold their liquor.”

“True. Long story short, she turned into this massive wolf. Saved both us from what I thought were three very large, very fast locals.”