Witch's Diary: A Paranormal Urban Fantasy Tale (Lost Library Book 4) (9 page)

They twiddled their thumbs, stared at the wall, and just as Jack was about to crack a joke about her witchy powers and fried phones—Kenna could just tell by the smirk and the way he was eyeing the phone’s remains—Lizzy came back inside.

She dabbed at the corners of her red eyes.

“What the hell did he say?” John looked ready to kick some Harrington ass.

“What?” Lizzie looked at her fingers. “No. I sat down on Kenna’s nasty old lounge chair and was attacked by dust.”

Kenna sighed. “I keep telling you, you have to sit in the wood chairs. They’re much more comfortable than they look—and I actually use those.”

Lizzie brushed at her rear, then tried to look over her shoulder at her back.

John gently pulled her closer to him and away from the kitchen table. “Why don’t you tell us what he wanted? Stalling won’t improve the news.” And he briskly brushed off the dirt from the backs of her calves, butt, and shoulder blades.

“All right. I made a trade. He had something pop up that needs urgent attention. Pilar strong-armed him into giving me a break by threatening to abandon the project if he called me in. But since I called him…” Lizzie let them draw their own conclusions. Not hard, since they all knew Harrington.

Even Jack had some connection with the man. Not only did Harrington have Jack’s unlisted cell number, Jack hadn’t asked a single question about Harrington. Highly suspect, given Jack’s extreme inquisitiveness.

“So what’s the trade?” Kenna asked quietly. “And do I need to figure out long-distance targeting with my new fire skills?”

Lizzie gave her a halfhearted smile. “It’s fine, except—I’ll be tied up on his project and won’t be able to help you guys very much. But I didn’t see any other solution. Harrington’s working on a fix—a delaying strategy of some kind. But he says it will take some time.” Lizzie squeezed her eyes shut. “And I have to head out to Prague as soon as possible. Today, preferably.”

John growled.

Lizzie winced. “I know. You can’t leave for another week.” Avoiding his gaze, she said, “You’ll just have to join me there in a week if I can’t finish up before then.”

Holy shit. The dynamic duo was splitting up. Kenna couldn’t believe it. They hadn’t been apart, not like this, since they’d gotten together.

“I love you guys.” Kenna felt weepy with emotion. All sorts of emotions.

Surprisingly, it was John who responded. “We know.”

“So how long does Harrington think he’s going to need?” The clock was ticking, and Kenna wasn’t about to forget that.

“A few days at least. He has an idea, but he needs to contact some resources outside IPPC to implement it.” Lizzie chewed on her lip, a sure sign that something about that had her worried.

“A few days? I’m going with you,” Kenna announced.

Lizzie didn’t seem surprised. She glanced at John, who had moved to the corner of the kitchen, where he leaned against the wall, arms crossed.

“I can’t do anything here,” Kenna said.

Lizzie gnawed on her lip some more. “I’m not arguing with you, Kenna. Harrington’s having his people work on a flight for us.”

“Oh.” That had been too easy. Kenna asked, “Who’s ‘us’?”

“You, me, Jack, and Max.” Lizzie did her best to list of the names clinically, unemotionally. But Lizzie was a flincher. And she definitely twitched when she got to Max’s name.

Kenna closed her eyes and shook her head. “How can you still have such a terrible poker face?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Lizzie replied.

“Uh-huh. But in case it might make you feel better, I’m fine with Max going. Max and I are good.” Kenna turned to Jack. “And what’s up with you coming?”

“I suspect I’m being hired.” He glanced in Lizzie’s direction and said, “But I’d go even if it wasn’t official. You”—he pointed a finger at Kenna and gave her a look—“need a keeper. You’re a mess.”

John stirred from his corner. “I can’t go, and Harrington’s not an idiot. He’s targeted two people I trust but aren’t pack members. And I doubt you could keep Max away.”

Kenna ignored the comment about Max. She’d forgotten that John worked out some special schedule so that he could maintain his position as leader of the Texas Pack and travel with Lizzie to Prague, London—wherever she needed to go to get spell-caster training and work with IPPC. It had all seemed so neat and tidy—until now. Now Lizzie had to go, but John was “on duty” as pack leader for at least another week. Crap. This was all her fault for getting her friend mixed up in her drama. Kenna growled. “Shit. This is Margot’s fault.”

Lizzie gave her a worried, you’re-a-crazy-lady look. “Right. This is definitely Margot’s fault.” Turning her attention to John, she said very calmly, “I’ll be too busy with my project to leave the IPPC library. So much as you’d like Jack and Max to keep an eye on me, that’s not the plan.”

John didn’t respond, but Kenna knew they’d have a lively discussion on the way home. The tick in his jaw was a dead giveaway.

“It wasn’t really the plan to split up the dynamic duo. I’m really sorry this messes with the grand plan you guys had worked out with the Pack.” Kenna might be sorry—but she’d still do it. This was her mom they were talking about.

John made a grumbling sound. “It was going to happen. I just wish we’d gotten through our wedding, maybe had a honeymoon, before it did.” He sounded like a grumpy, growly bear.

Kenna tried not to laugh at his turn from seriously pissed to grumpy—because she knew it had to be a combination of nerves, rampaging hormones, and hysteria that let her find humor in anything that happened today.

Lizzie walked over and put one arm around John, hugging him close to her. “Clearly you were delusional to think that was a possibility.” She grinned up at him. “But I still love you, delusions and all.”

The mushy, couply sentiments the couple was sharing must have triggered baby thoughts, because Kenna suddenly remembered her appointment. “Dammit. I have an OB appointment. I cannot miss this appointment. Finding a doctor that takes new patients, let alone getting an appointment this quickly, is a miracle. I have no idea how Mom did it. We can’t get a flight that soon anyway, can we?” Kenna rolled her eyes. This was Harrington. “Silly question. Of course we can.”

“When is the appointment?” Jack asked.

“Two this afternoon.”

Jack nodded. “I’ll take you and we can head out from there.”

She’d planned to go with her mom so she wouldn’t be terrified, freaked out, and alone. Baby daddy Max was out of the question. Just meeting Max at Eastside yesterday—a comparatively neutral location—had frazzled her emotions. She couldn’t even imagine him at the doctor’s office with her. So Jack it was. “Thank you, Jack.”

Chapter 7

As Kenna hurried out of her doctor’s office into the lobby, Jack stood up. “Everything’s okay?”

He sounded worried.

Kenna could feel her face getting warmer and warmer. She kept going without pause, grabbing Jack’s arm as she walked by. “Sure. Come on. Let’s go.”

She dragged him to the door with her.

Once they were outside, he said, “What the hell is going on?” He shoved a hand through his hair then leaned close to her, and in a low voice asked, “Did you set something on fire?”

“No! Geez.” Kenna could feel her face getting even hotter.

Looking at her askance, Jack opened her car door. “All right—in the car.”

“If you keep it up with the orders, at some point on this trip you may find yourself scorched. Remember, I‘m unpredictable.”

“Right. No way in hell would you hurt me. Even if I do manage to push all your buttons.” Jack settled into the driver’s seat. “We’re not going anywhere until you tell me what has you blushing. I’m not sure I’ve ever even seen you blush.”

Kenna looked over her shoulder at the entrance to the doctor’s office. “That is a gross exaggeration. I blush, just like anyone else.” When she saw he wasn’t making any motions toward starting the car, she conceded. “Fine. Get me out of here, and I’ll tell you.” She sank into her seat. “It was mortifying.”

Jack nodded and started the car.

“First, you don’t even want to know what they do to you.” She intercepted his skeptical glance. “What? Really, you don’t. But besides that, I had some questions. And she’s my doctor, so I asked them. That’s what she’s for, right?”

Hesitantly, Jack said, “Sure.”

“Single mom, sketchy about disclosing dad’s details, asks a lot of questions: what does stress do to the baby? Is there anything I shouldn’t be taking? Maybe they could give me a list. Maybe they could tell me what I could be doing that might hurt the baby. And so on.” Kenna sank lower into her seat.

“What’s the issue? I mean, you can’t come out and say, ‘Will this weird witch shit hurt my kid?’ So that all sounds fine.”

Jack hit a particularly deep rut in the road, probably because he was looking at her like she was nuts.

Kenna grunted. “I’m pretty sure you can afford to replace this thing. Or at least replace the shocks.”

“I love this car. They don’t make Jeep Cherokees like this anymore—that makes it more valuable.”

“Uh—no. It doesn’t work that way. That just makes it old and outdated.” Kenna didn’t know why she bothered. They’d had this same conversation at least a dozen times. The man loved his beat-up piece-of-shit car.

“You will never win this argument,” Jack said cheerfully. “So—what was wrong with asking a few questions?”

Kenna felt a little more comfortable now that they were farther away from the office. “Pretty sure they thought I was a prostitute and that I engaged in ‘risky behavior.’ Including but not limited to illegal drug use.”

“You’re being overly sensitive. No way they thought that. And even if they did, so what? I’m sure they treat a wide range of patients.”

“They definitely thought all of that. They pretty much said that: risky behavior, illegal drug use, blah blah. I was probably ten sketchy, overly vague questions into the visit before I realized I might be making the wrong impression.” Kenna closed her eyes and let her head fall against the headrest. “I’m not going back.”

“But everything’s okay, right?”

There it was again—Jack was worried about her.

“Since when are you such a worrier? I’m fine. I’m AMA—advanced maternal age. But generally I’m fine. Unfortunately, it’s not like you go in once and you’re done. There’s a series of visits that they set you up with.” Kenna’s head started to throb. “A lot of visits. I do not want to see these people every month and have to explain that I’m not a drug addict or crazy.”

“I’m not sure you have much choice at this point.” Jack glanced at her from the corner of his eye. “At least about the visits.”

“Yeah.”

The rest of the ride was more subdued. No awkward silence, just the realities of life weighing on both of them. Or so Kenna assumed. Sometimes it was hard to know exactly what Jack was thinking.

~*~

When Kenna and Jack arrived at her house, Max’s car was parked in the drive. Looked like she was going from one humiliating experience to the next. Of course, having to interact with Max was only humiliating because she’d been actively avoiding him for so long. Live and learn.

“You ready?” Jack asked.

They must have been sitting outside her house for a while now. Kenna could only imagine what Max must be thinking, if he saw them drive up. “Yes. Definitely.” She moved to open her door and stopped. “No, actually. Not at all. What do I say to him?”

Jack sighed. “Whatever you want. He’s here to lend a hand getting Gwen back. If you’re that uncertain how to act, just keep that in mind.”

“Right.” She tucked a few fine strands of hair behind her ears and nodded. “Now I’m ready.” Kenna slammed the car door behind her, glaring at Jack. “Whatever you say, there’s not a trick to it. You need to get that door fixed.”

“And the shocks, and the ratty paint, and the back door handle.” Jack walked around the front of the car to join her. “You know, you’re the only one who complains.”

“I’m the only one who’s honest. Besides, I’m sure your usual passengers either don’t realize how juvenile it is to drive a trashed-out car, or won’t say anything because they’re trying to get into your pants.”

They bickered all the way to the front door. Bless Jack and his ability to manage her. That was her last thought before stepping through the front door.

Lizzie and Max were both waiting in the living room.

“Hi, Max. Lizzie, I thought we were picking you up at your house?” Kenna thought she might cry. Her best bud had her back. Now she had two buffers between her and Max. She knew it would all be fine in a day or so—but her emotions were tied very closely to the here and now. Stupid hormones.

“No reason for the delay when we can all leave directly from here. I’ll just make you a bit of tea before we head out.” Lizzie jerked her head in the direction of the kitchen. “Max, can you help Jack load up the bags? Everything’s in the hallway.”

“Sure.” Max took the hint, clever man, and booked it.

Lizzie wrapped an arm around Kenna’s shoulders as they walked to the kitchen together. “You’ll be fine.”

“I know.” Kenna lifted her lip in disgust. “It’s just the witch-pregnancy craziness striking again.”

“What have you done in the past?” Lizzie asked.

“I’m sorry?”

Lizzie poked her in the side. “Don’t be obtuse. When you’ve broken up with someone and then run into them afterwards.”

“Ah. ‘Hey, what’s up? Hope you’re doing well.’ And then walk quickly in the other direction.”

“Seriously? Kenna.”

“What? I’m not Max. Although being friends with basically every woman a guy has ever slept with is hardly normal. That’s way weirder than avoiding people afterwards. I swear.” She took the cup of tea Lizzie handed her. “Geez. I really hope my mom is okay. Leaving her with those crackpot Coven thugs is depressing, demoralizing, and just messed up. I mean—they could change their mind and try her more quickly. Or someone could hurt her while she’s being held. What do we know—maybe they’re okay with torture.” Kenna sat her mug down on the table. “Shit. Of course they’re okay with torture. What am I thinking?”

“Whoa. Slow down. You’re just getting yourself worked up. There may be some answers to those questions. John had his top enforcer Ben break into your mom’s house.”