Witch's Diary: A Paranormal Urban Fantasy Tale (Lost Library Book 4) (23 page)

Looking at him now, Kenna could believe he was in his mid-twenties. Up till now, he’d always seemed so mature. Irreverent, but wise. “I get it. I’ve had my share of family crazy lately.” She knew Harrington was Harry’s uncle and that there was some tension between the two. She’d bet a week’s worth of caffeine that his spell-caster secret was behind that tension.

“This seemed the right time. You needed someone; I was available. I was in Prague for that other thing.” Harry narrowed his eyes.

“Yeah.” Kenna nodded. That other thing, meaning the super-secret project Lizzie was toiling over.

“So Jack grabbed me, and we headed out.” He shrugged, looking a little helpless. “Introduce me to your colleagues?”

She introduced Harry and then Jack, who’d just come back into the living room after depositing the pizza. As she made the rounds, her feelings were ambiguous. She was thrilled to have Harry help. He was an incredible and powerful healer, and he usually had a cool head in a crisis. But the Harry in her living room was more uncomfortable and less certain than she’d ever known him to be. Harry had always been so uniquely himself. Secure in who he was, shockingly so, for such a young guy. It was one of several reasons he was so charming. And on top of the unfamiliar demeanor he was sporting, his spell-casting talents were a mystery.

“Let’s eat,” Jack said. “You can debrief Harry and me on your progress while we all shovel pizza into our mouths.”

Once they’d all retrieved food and were seated, the atmosphere had shifted. Less tense, more comfortable with each other, the initial silence was companionable as they started to eat. Kenna figured she should get the ball rolling, since she was basically the host. In between mouthfuls of greasy cheese, Kenna explained her breakthrough with the candle she’d had earlier. “So basically,” she concluded, “there’s a glimmer of hope that I can put out a fire I’ve started. Which is excellent news.”

Walter was more circumspect, waiting until he’d finished his meal to update Jack and Harry. Once he’d summarized the progress they had and hadn’t made, Walter leaned back in his chair. “Can you help us?”

Harry cleared his throat. “I can certainly cast a sensing ward and make the magic visible. That might make what we’re doing easier. As for adhering to a wall, that’s how wards work. If we can weave my magic in, that shouldn’t be a problem. Blending or unblending magic…maybe. We’ll have to experiment.”

“How do we know that’s how the holding cell was created? Witches aren’t exactly tight with spell casters.” Alan crumpled up his napkin and threw it on his plate. “So even if we create a functioning cell, it won’t be a working replica of the holding cell.”

“First, you guys clearly work with spell casters. That’s where this entire mess started: collusion between Margot and some group of witches.” Jack held up a hand when Alan would have responded. “I get it. That might not have historically been true. But so what? Even if the replica cell is created differently, if the end result is the same or even similar and you can crack the replica, shouldn’t that still give you a plan of attack?”

Alan shook his head, his lips tight.

“Yes. I think it does.” Walter tipped his head in Alan’s direction. “Of course, Alan, you’re right. What were the chances that a spell caster was involved in the creation of the cells? Slim, at best. And magic can be finicky. But it can also be forgiving. If we can figure out how to break apart melded magic, it may not matter how the Coven initially created the cell. If we manage to crack our replica, then I think there’s a good chance the methodology will apply universally.” Walter’s gaze swept the room, gauging responses. “All right. Since Harry’s willing, let’s give it a try.”

Jack pulled Max and Kenna aside. “I’ve got an update.”

Kenna grabbed Jack’s arm. “Clifford?”

Jack shook his head. “No, that’s fine. I got him, delivered him to Harrington, and he’s helping. Crazy, but clever. Better even than Harrington promised. Once Margot’s accessed the decoy funds on the fake site, he says he can build a web of contact points that stretches into her computer network and beyond. Anything she’s touched electronically will be affected. And not just from the time she’s accessing the site forward. So IPPC won’t have to wait until she contacts the Coven to get your mom’s location. Cliff says he can go back in time at least a few days, which will pick up communications between Margot and the kidnappers potentially faster.”

Max was looking less impressed than Kenna would have liked. It sounded like they’d hit the mother lode.

“That sounds like a large data pool.” Max turned to Kenna. “That means a greater delay between when Margot accesses the site and when Harrington’s people can pinpoint a target for us. They’ll have to troll through a lot of data points before they find Margot’s contact with the kidnappers. And then we still have to travel to your mom’s location.”

“Ugh,” Kenna growled. “So either way there’s a delay. IPPC trolls through a bunch of data to find Mom’s location, or they get it when Margot contacts the Coven with instructions—whenever that might be. So there’s a real concern that Margot or the Coven will be on to us before we’ve had a chance to break Mom out.”

“But”—Jack raised his eyebrows—“a much better chance they’ll pinpoint your mom’s location accurately.”

Kenna motioned them to the kitchen, where she could make herself some tea. Bad news sucked. Bad news when she was hormonally tripping—that sucked to the infinite power.

The three continued their huddle next to the stove.

“What else?” Kenna asked.

Jack crossed his arms. “Harrington almost lost his shit when Harry popped up out of nowhere to volunteer for this job.”

“What does that mean?” Kenna asked.

“You tell me,” Jack replied. “I’m hoping it has nothing to do with the success of the mission. I know you’re no fan of Harrington, Kenna, but I don’t see him sending out a guy who can’t handle himself or is underqualified.”

“But it is noteworthy.” Max let out a humorless laugh. “It could be as simple as Harrington not trusting we’ll come out of this. But again, Harry hasn’t even agreed to join us beyond planning, yet.”

“He will.” Kenna poured a cup of the brewed tea. “He will.”

Max nudged Jack. “What else have you got?”

“Other than a fat check?” Jack asked, eyebrows wiggling.

“IPPC paid you? How did that even happen? This isn’t their case.” Kenna eyed Jack dubiously. Occasionally he wheeled and dealed in ways she found highly questionable—and Kenna considered her morals flexible in pursuit of a just cause.

“I convinced them a bonus was in order for reestablishing lines of communication with a valuable asset. The point being, I’m feeling less pressure to hurry my ass home, since the mortgage on the shop and half my employee’s wages are covered for this month.” Jack leaned on the counter. “Not that I would have skipped out…this just puts me in a chipper mood as I risk life and limb.”

“Good to know. Do you have any other relevant information?” Kenna asked. Then she winced. “Oh, and thank you.”

Jack wasn’t kidding when he said he’d be risking his life, even if he was flippant. She needed to remember that so far their prison break was a mess. And at some point she’d have to evaluate their options and make a difficult decision. But not yet.

“You’re welcome.” Jack grinned. “As for other relevant info, we have to count John out. I’m not sure about the specifics of Lizzie’s project, but I know she’s manic from lack of sleep and too much caffeine.”

“Still?” Kenna couldn’t believe she could keep up that pace for much longer without blowing a gasket. Or getting an ulcer.

Jack ran his hand through his hair. “Yeah. It’s not good. John’s flying out as soon as possible to join her. Maybe he can get a handle on her before either she or her little project implode.”

“That’s unfortunate news that John can’t join us,” Max said.

Which Kenna knew meant: Oh, fuck, but let’s not upset the hormonal pregnant lady. She rubbed her eyes.

“John promised to contact the local pack wherever we end up, assuming there’s one in the area, and they’re friendly to Texas.” Jack put an arm around her and squeezed her shoulders. “It’s the best he can do under the circumstances.”

“I know, and I’m fine. It just seems like the odds on my mom’s rescue are complete crap.”

Max hitched a thumb in the direction of the living room. “Let’s go see how everything else is going.”

When Kenna hesitated, Max casually reached down and clasped her hand, interlocking his fingers with hers. He followed Jack out of the kitchen, gently pulling her behind him. Kenna hesitated for a moment, but not out of reluctance. The warm strength of Max’s hand intertwined with hers had made her heart stutter. Excitement? Fear? She wasn’t sure.

Chapter 19

As soon as she and Max entered the living room, Kenna stopped abruptly. When she realized she was staring like an idiot, she closed her mouth and did her best not to laugh.

Walter, who’d thus far been a rational cornerstone to the group, was literally yanking on his hair.

“I’m telling you, it doesn’t matter.” Little tufts of Walter’s hair stood on end where he’d clearly already had a good pull. Each tuft seemed to emphasize his dismay and frustration.

Jack and Max hung out just inside the doorway, but Kenna refused to be cowed by crazy. Sidling up to Harry, she said quietly, “What’s going on?”

“I just don’t get why I’m brown. Why can’t I be pink?” Angela asked.

Alan shook his head and said, “What does it matter? He’s using healer magic. They never would have used healer magic or spell-caster magic to make the cell. It’s just not going to work.”

Harry’s tall, lanky frame and bright shock of orange hair usually drew attention. At this moment, however, he was near a corner, leaning against a wall, with his chin tucked low. Trying hard to blend into the background, if Kenna had to guess.

“How long have these guys been working today?” Harry replied, just as quietly, to Kenna’s question.

“Too long, I guess.” Before Kenna could ask what progress they’d made, she spotted the little cutting board splashed with a gorgeous net of colorful, intertwined magic. She poked Harry hard in the ribs. “You did it. Already? How did you do that? And why aren’t they excited?”

Harry grunted. “Watch that. I bruise easily. Don’t think they’ve noticed, actually. They’ve been arguing for the last five minutes, at least.”

“I’ve only been in the kitchen for fifteen minutes or so. Geez.” Kenna closed her eyes and rolled her head back. “Everyone needs a break. Or caffeine.” She opened her eyes and looked at the bickering group. “Or Valium."

“Hmm—you’ve been more than fifteen minutes, but I take your point.” Harry moved away from the wall.

Max and Jack were still watching the squabbling threesome with amusement.

“Hello. Might I have your attention, please?” Harry called out.

Three guilty faces turned to him at once.

“Sorry,” Angela said with a small wince.

“Apologies, just ah…” Alan’s eyes widened.

“I’ll be damned,” Walter said. “That’s it. Minus the fire, naturally. But otherwise, yes, yes. Well done, Harry.”

“So how’d you do it?” Kenna asked.

“I have a lot of practice binding and splicing. This little project was shockingly similar to healing.” Harry cocked his head to study the color-splashed board. “Not what I expected.”

“Cool.” Kenna reached down to pick up the board.

A chorus of “stop!” “no!” and “don’t!” from the witch crew halted her abruptly. “What? I thought you guys said there was no zap or anything like that.”

Walter stepped forward, moving in between her and the board. “We don’t actually know. And I’d really rather not experiment with a novice, pregnant witch.”

Kenna’s hand moved reflexively to her midsection. She took two steps back. “Are you saying this could hurt my baby?”

“No. Almost definitely not.” Walter now stood about a foot from the board. “But we can’t be sure at this point exactly what it does.”

Walter reached down to pick it up, and his hand stopped about six inches away. “I can feel it. It’s oddly strong given how little magic we invested in the strands. Did you…?”

“Ah, no,” Harry replied. “I took what was there and used just enough magic to seamlessly splice and then mix the edges of the magics. You can see a faint silver shine overlaid in those areas. That’s the trace of the magic I used.” He grinned, showing an even smile. “Cool, right?”

Walter looked up at him and nodded. “Very cool.” He stretched his hand closer then suddenly yanked it back. “It burns like a son of a bitch.” He became very still, and then he spat, “Dammit. Big Magic.”

“Uh, that wasn’t my intent.” Harry shook his head emphatically. “I don’t think that’s right.”

“All right, I’ll ask since no one’s saying. What the hell is Big Magic?” Max asked.

Walter answered without taking his eyes from the small wooden cutting board. “The sum of the whole is greater than its parts.” He turned to Max. “Essentially.”

Alan whistled. “And that’s without fire. You’re sure?”

“Of course I’m not sure. I’ve never seen Big Magic.” Walter looked more than a little worried.

Harry had been quietly studying the interwoven magic. “I was intrigued by the puzzle, so I didn’t notice. I’m not usually so distracted. But you’re right; it’s there—more power is emanating from it than we each contributed.” Harry let loose a tense breath. Looking at Kenna, he said, “That’s bad.”

Jack had walked closer, examining the colorful net. “There are some schools of thought that Big Magic creates dead zones. Or, I suppose, Big Magic gone awry.”

“I hadn’t heard that, and I try to stay informed. Who’s your source?” Harry asked.

Kenna swallowed a nervous giggle and it came out as a choked noise. Harry was crazy well informed. Lizzie called Harry all the time with her miscellaneous questions on magic. She used Harry like her own wiki-magic. So how the hell did Jack know all this shit? He really was much too well informed for his own good.

“A dragon.”

Jack’s curt reply was enough, because Harry immediately said, “Let’s figure out how to tear this thing apart. Now.”