Witch's Diary: A Paranormal Urban Fantasy Tale (Lost Library Book 4) (18 page)

“There’s little recorded history of actual witches in England—just the falsely accused variety,” Harrington said. “It makes one wonder at their persistent fear.”

Kenna shrugged. “Paranoia? Hell, I’d be paranoid if I was Marianne.”

“Or there’s a more compelling reason than a prison escape to keep the Coven after her. Keep digging. Do you have the specifics of how she escaped?”

“Not a step-by-step set of instructions, but she talks about unraveling the woven magic encompassing the cell. If I can find a few trustworthy witches—hopefully some of Mom’s friends—we’ll need to experiment to make sure it can be done.”

“And if the Coven has updated the cell’s construction?” Max asked.

“Then we hope that with enough heads, we can crack whatever it is they’ve constructed.” Really, really hope, Kenna thought, because the alternatives weren’t good. Leave her mom? Stay and get caught? “We certainly don’t have an inside man to case the thing for us.”

“What about narrowing down the locations?” Max turned to Harrington. “I’ve already updated Kenna on Jack’s progress. But she mentioned there might be a way to narrow down possible locations.”

Harrington looked at Kenna expectantly.

“Right. I’d have thought your people might already have considered this, but…” Kenna swallowed the last of her coffee. She’d managed to finish it without tasting it. A serious bummer, since it was the last she’d get until tomorrow. “This interwoven net of earth, water, fire, and air magic acts a lot like how you guys describe wards. It seems like it basically encases the walls of the cell. Anyway, unlike your wards that are triggered by certain actions or events, the reinforcing of the walls is full blast, nonstop. These witches could learn a little from spell casters about energy conservation.”

“So it requires a lot of magical juice. Is that what you’re saying?” Max wasn’t looking nearly as impressed by the information as Kenna thought appropriate.

“Right.” Annoyed by his and Harrington’s lack of comprehension, she said, “Find the natural magical spillovers.” When they still looked confused, she said, “You know, the places where magic accumulates.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. If you mean ley lines, then there’s no proof of any such thing. It’s a mundane myth.” Harrington leaned back in his chair, his note-taking apparently at an end.

“Yeah, uh, I’m not sure what a ley line is. I’m talking about these things—wellsprings, Marianne called them—that kind of hold magic. Witches tap into them as a power source. You guys don’t do that?” Kenna blinked at the fierce glint in Harrington’s eyes.

“No. Because magic is created and held within oneself. What you’re describing isn’t possible.” The intensity in Harrington’s voice was getting a little scary.

Kenna lifted both her hands. “Hey, I have no idea, if this is like some weird social faux pas to talk about, that’s news to me. I’m just telling you what was in the book.”

Harrington leaned forward and placed his elbows on his desk. “Tell me exactly what was in the book.”

“Um, is this important? Did I miss something?” Harrington was freaking Kenna out with his intensity. “I mean, Pilar knows about it. Maybe we should get her. Because really, Harrington, that was it. I’ve told you everything I know.”

Harrington picked up his cell and dialed. After a brief moment of silence, he turned to Max. “She’s not picking up. Can you find her?”

Max looked about as confused as Kenna felt. “Where did you see her last?”

“I left her in the library. I was wiped and she said she just had a few things to look up.”

Harrington nodded at Max. “Check the library.”

Max was halfway to the door before Harrington was done speaking.

Picking up the phone on his desk, he pressed one of the speed-dial buttons. “Ewan? I need you to find Pilar. No, to do with the other project. Right. Max has the library covered. Wait.”

Max and an uncharacteristically disheveled Pilar walked into the room together.

“I found her in the hall,” Max said.

“Ewan. Yes, I’ve got her.” Harrington hung up the phone.

“What’s with all the urgency?” Kenna asked. She knew her question came out aggressive and angry. But hell, her mom’s life was on the line and they weren’t nearly as frantic about Gwen. Kenna blinked in confusion. She was pissed. Really, really angry…and yet, no tears. No desire to set someone on fire—thank God. Had her hormones taken a break—finally?

“Whose breakfast is this?” Pilar was eyeing the tray with interest.

“Mine. Help yourself,” Kenna said. Who could be angry at Pilar? Harrington, on the other hand… “What the fuck is going on, Harrington?”

“Nothing I can share right now. But these magical reserves are relevant to Gwen’s escape plan, so you can stay. For now.”

“Gee, thanks. Since I’m the one who told you about them.” As angry as Kenna was, she also wanted to throw a party. Because dickhead Harrington wasn’t pushing her witchy hormonal buttons. And for whatever reason, Harrington really did push all of her buttons. Why Lizzie liked the guy… Kenna shook her head.

In between bites of toast, Pilar said, “Kenna told you about the wellsprings? Naturally occurring pools of elemental-based magic, from what I can discern so far.”

Wow, Pilar looked really rough. “Did you stay up all night working in the library?”

Pilar dabbed at the corners of her mouth with a napkin. “I must have fallen asleep in the small hours of the night. I just woke up at one of the worktables in the library a few minutes ago.”

“So how would we detect one of these springs?” Harrington asked, waving aside the chitchat.

“You have got to be kidding me. I figured you guys knew how to pinpoint these things. That’s…disappointing.” Kenna thought they’d have a backup plan if crazy, geo-locating Clifford didn’t work out. Maybe not.

Shooting a sidelong glance at Kenna and Max, Pilar said, “I’m not sure if a sensing ward would pick one up, but Lizzie’s checking just in case. I’ve never even heard of this type of magic before. It seems like it’s different from an elemental witch’s magic.”

Max lifted a hand. “So if this wellspring of magic powered the holding cells that were created by witch magic, you’d think there’d be some similarity or some tie between the two types, right?”

Harrington pinched his lips together then, hesitantly, he replied, “Not necessarily. Consider that death magic uses the magic of the recently dead as a power source. You have to know how to harness and employ the energy. It doesn’t need to be of a similar type.”

Kenna nodded. “That makes sense. Remember when Worth stole John’s magic? A spell caster feeding on Lycan magic, kind of the same thing, right?”

Harrington nodded. “But if this natural magic is that dissimilar to human magic, then a sensing ward may not pick it up.”

“Right,” Pilar said triumphantly.

Kenna looked at her, then Harrington, then Pilar again. Why was Pilar so excited about that? “There is massive subtext here that I’m guessing has to do with the problem-that-will-not-be-named. Can you either explain what the hell is going on, or tie this all back to my mom? Because a sensing ward only works up close, and we don’t have a clue where she is.”

Harrington considered Kenna for a moment. “Why did you think that these wellsprings would help to narrow your search?”

Kenna shrugged. “Probably a lot of incorrect assumptions. I thought you guys knew about them—what they are and where they’re located. I also thought they’d be like a geological feature, except in the magical sense. That there would be indicators you guys could look for.” Kenna shook her head. “I don’t know.”

Pilar turned to Harrington. Together they said, “Dead zones.”

“That’s exactly the opposite of where I’d think they’d be.” Max leaned forward in his chair. “Ah. I see.”

“Hello, people.” Kenna waved a hand in the air. “I have no idea what a dead zone is, and I don’t see.” When Harrington and Pilar didn’t answer—both appeared lost in thought—Kenna turned to Max.

“A dead zone is an area where magic communities fail to thrive. There’s nothing overtly different about dead zones that anyone has been able to detect.” Max looked to Pilar and Harrington for confirmation. Pilar nodded. Harrington was too busy making notes to notice. “That’s what John told me.”

Pilar added, “If you stay in one for too long, it’s uncomfortable. But it’s usually something that takes days, at the least. And non-magical people don’t seem to notice.”

“All right. So that’s a dead zone. There would clearly not be any of these magical wellsprings in a dead zone, right?” Kenna felt like she was missing a huge point.

“Right.” Max pressed his lips together. “But pick a place where the magical community is especially active, and maybe…”

“Ah. You think you can find hot spots of magic-community activity.” Kenna deflated. “That seems like a pretty complicated equation. I don’t see you guys being able to figure that out on a short time frame.”

“Probably not in time to help Gwen, no.” Harrington didn’t even look up. His pen continued to fly across the page. “This has significant, long-term effects. But where’s the verification?”

Pilar sighed. “We’ve got to find a way to see, or to feel, natural magic.”

“Well, witches must be able to.” It seemed commonsensical to Kenna. They were the ones who’d harnessed the energy for their tiny, one-witch prisons.

Three heads turned to look at her.

“What? The witches found it. They use it. Maybe witches can sense it. Like your sensing wards can sense normal magic.”

Harrington and Pilar exchanged a look then both nailed her with an intense scrutiny that made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up.

“Oh, don’t look at me. I’m a half-baked, very unfinished witch. Maybe in seven or eight months.” She gave them a smile that held no amusement. “Gwen, on the other hand, would surely be willing to help with whatever sneaky project you guys have going on…if you get her out of jail.”

Harrington‘s expression turned pinched and hard. “I’ve already agreed to help your mother. My people are doing their best to aid in her recovery.”

Whoa, she’d managed to offend Harrington. Shocking, since she’d assumed he had the emotional sensibilities of a goat. Oops.

This time when she smiled, she meant it. “Then she’ll be that much more willing to help you when she gets out.”

Kenna stood up with her list in hand. She grabbed a piece of toast, threw a slice of cheese and ham on top, and headed out the door. She had some phone calls to make.

Max followed her out.

Chapter 15

“Hey, slow down.” Max’s voice followed her around a turn in the hallway.

Kenna marched on. She had people to call. And a bunch of bullshit Harrington maneuvering to put behind her.

Max caught up. “It wouldn’t hurt you to be a little nicer to the guy. He’s a useful resource.”

“I know. Trust me, I do know.” She clenched her right hand into a fist. “That doesn’t mean I don’t want to crush his balls.”

Max cleared his throat uncomfortably. “Stress brings out a violent side to you that I had no idea existed.”

“It’s always there. I just had a much better filter before.” Kenna didn’t elaborate on when “before” was. He knew. Before, when there’d been crazy sexual tension between the two of them. Before, when they’d been having wild monkey sex. God, she needed to take a metal brush to her brain now. Lizzie and her weird phrases. She’d never get that freaky-ass image out of her head.

“Fair enough. I guess we all do that.” Max rushed to catch up again. “Seriously, can you slow down? I have this massive bruise on my hip and you’re about to make me cry.”

She stopped suddenly and turned to look at him. “My ass.”

“True,” he said. “But my hip does hurt like hell. I have some deep-tissue bruising that Frank hasn’t gotten to yet.”

They’d made it out of the hall and were heading down the basement stairs…at a much slower pace.

“Sorry,” Kenna finally said. “I didn’t know.” She turned and wagged a finger at him. “And I did actually ask if you had any other injuries.”

“It didn’t seem manly to complain.”

Kenna chuckled, and the chuckle built to a laugh. Smothering the last of her mirth, she said, “You’re a smartass.”

Max was a big guy who frequently wrestled with preternaturally strong Lycan and was handy with a gun. And so incredibly comfortable in his skin, so comfortable with who he was. Kenna envied that.

“I’ve always been a smartass. Unlike you, I’ve never filtered parts of my personality.” Max paused on the stairs. “Why do you have such a problem with Harrington? He’s really not that bad of a guy.”

Kenna stopped a few steps below Max. She turned and leaned against the wall, looking down at her purpley-pink shoes. “He manipulates people. Always pushing and pulling them, directing their choices in a way that benefits him. There’s always an ulterior motive and a bigger plan at work with men like Harrington.” She sighed quietly. “I think the little people—people like me, like Lizzie”—she looked at Max—“like you, I think we’re less important and so we get hurt. And that’s not okay. So I’m gonna disagree and say he’s not that great of a guy.”

“I get it. But you forget that Harrington’s not working for himself. He’s completely dedicated to IPPC’s goals, which is primarily some semblance of a unified justice system in the magic-using community. I agree with you. He definitely has the bigger picture in mind, but not to further a personal agenda. To build a safer, better place for all of us to live.”

Kenna made her you’re-so-adorable face. “Aww. You’re an idealist. How cute.”

Max shrugged. “Okay. And you can hate the guy; that’s your choice. I’m just saying, there’s value in what he does, even if some of his methods are screwed up.”

Kenna turned and descended the last few steps. “Huh. I’ll think about. But I definitely still don’t like him. Oh, I almost forgot the most important piece of the puzzle.” She opened the security door at the bottom of the steps. “Harrington doesn’t get along with Harry. Everyone loves Harry, and they’re even related. Harry’s like a magical, British, millennial version of you.”

“Not everyone is as enamored of me as you seem to think.” He was right on her heels through the door.