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

Had she felt anything when she’d lit it before? Grrr. Of course she didn’t remember. The flame seemed to come out of nowhere. If she hadn’t been too busy freaking out over the teeny tiny flame and her kitchen table, she might be more certain. She forced herself to take a deep breath then rested her hands on the table. She relaxed her shoulders—which had crept up near her ears, she was so tense. Somewhere, floating around in her insides—literally or metaphysically—there was a stash of magic. She just had to find it.

After communing with her innards for a while, she had nothing except a clear understanding of how long it had been since her last meal—too long. She opened her eyes.

Her mom was biting her lip, clearly trying not to laugh.

“What? I’m”—Kenna waved her hands around—“communing. Or something.”

The corners of her mom’s mouth tipped up slightly.

Kenna let her head fall back. After shaking out the tension that had gathered again in her shoulders, she looked at her mom. “If you’re finding this so hilarious, what do you recommend?”

Her mom handed her the candle. “Don’t try so hard.”

Teeth clenched, Kenna took the candle. “Light, you little bastard.” And instantly a flame appeared.

She placed the chintzy white candle in the holder her mom had retrieved—one of her favorite crystal holders—and as soon as her fingers left the candle, the flame went out.

“That little mystery is solved.” Her mom still sounded amused. She waggled her fingers. “You have to be touching the object. But that probably won’t last long.”

“You don’t have to touch something to set it on fire?” Before her mom could answer, Kenna said, “Wait a sec. I wasn’t touching that receipt paper. At the grocery.”

“Right. It’s not that you can’t use your fire magic without a physical connection—more that you don’t know how.”

“But put me on an emotional rollercoaster and my magic does erratic backflips.” Flippant wasn’t great, but it seemed better to Kenna than angry, so she was embracing flippant. “Lizzie definitely got the good end of this deal,” she muttered.

“Pregnancy is hard enough without magic to worry about. I know. Especially for you, being…”

“Single? Unwed? Knocked up with no dad in the picture? Yes, that sucks.” Kenna wasn’t about to argue. “But it’s not like I didn’t have sex. I’m shocked, you’re shocked. Hell, Brian, remarried with two kids, would be floored. But it’s not actually that surprising. Women get pregnant all the time. Even the unwed, previously barren variety. Right?”

Kenna could feel her blood pressure rising.

“You can do this. You’re ready to be a mom. Even if you don’t realize it yourself yet, you’re ready.” Her mom’s soft, sympathetic gaze met Kenna’s eyes. “And I’m here to help you.”

“Thanks, Mom. I can’t really think about the specifics right now. It’s too soon. Too much.” Kenna let out a ragged breath. “So how does a pregnant witch keep her magic to herself? From escaping into the environment?” She was not using the word leak. The bodily fluid overtones were too much for her. Undignified, disgusting, and just ew.

“Practice lighting a candle. Then we’ll have you alter the temperature of various items. Air is fun.” Her mom grinned and her eyes twinkled mischievously. “You can move air by changing the temperature rapidly—and small objects.”

“If I was a little boy, I could see how flipping up skirts might be fun. But as it is, I’m not seeing the appeal. Sorry.”

Seeing a playful side to her mother that was so at odds with her practical, common-sense approach to life was bizarre. But it was good. Yeah, it was cool.

“In any event, once you have some predictable skills, you can channel your magic appropriately in moments of stress. Voila, no leaky magic.”

Simple enough. Use it before it escapes. It seemed like actually keeping it locked up in its little—extremely hard to find—vault would be a better solution, but her mom was the expert.

“And in the interim, I try to find the invisible box that holds my magic. I mean, you can control when you access your magic, right? It’s not like your random thoughts bear fiery fruit when you least expect it. I lived with you for years. That you couldn’t have hid.”

“Yes.” Her mom nodded. “I know what my magic feels like, how to wake it up, how to intentionally use it.” She smiled. “And you will, too, with some time and practice.”

“So your sister Ginny. Any more shocking news on that front?”

“How about we save that for another day? You’re looking tired. We’ll chat before my trip on Tuesday. Why don’t you take a nap; you’ve had quite a day.” Her mom glanced out the kitchen window. “It’s beautiful outside. Maybe you could sit on the deck for a bit and enjoy the little cool front we’re having.”

Her mom was right. Kenna was wrecked. She needed to get some sleep or go and quietly cry some more in her room. Either way.

“Sure. Let me grab my keys and I’ll drive you home.”

Chapter 3

After a long nap on the deck wrapped in a lightweight cotton blanket, Kenna did feel better. Her mom had been right. But she needed to talk to someone about the mess that her life was in. If she sat in her house by herself, she’d brood—which would most definitely lead to tears. And she was damn well done with tears. Going out? Not an option.

Since she typically discussed life drama and magic with Lizzie—and she couldn’t face Lizzie yet—that left only Jack. He was the only other person who was in on the big secret that consumed most of her life these days. He’d been pulled in when she’d asked him to do some investigating into Lizzie’s disappearance a few months ago. And besides the complications of magic, Jack just understood her. She picked up her phone and dialed his number.

Kenna propped her cell on the kitchen table and tapped the speaker button. “I’m pregnant.”

“Uh—okay.” Even over the phone, Jack’s confusion was immediately evident. “You do remember that we haven’t had sex in like two, maybe three years?”

Kenna glared at her phone. “Ugh. Don’t be an ass. I’m freaking out. Now is not the time to be flippant.”

“Is Lizzie—”

“I’m not speaking to Lizzie at the moment.” Kenna thought about rainbows, butterflies, and kittens—because she was not going to cry.

“I’m headed that way.”

Kenna tried to decide if she felt bad for whatever woman Jack was ditching to come to her rescue—but she couldn’t work up concern for some unknown woman. If ever there was a time to be selfish, it was now. She’d had too many bombs dropped, too much weird for even her to handle.

She sniffed. Jack was the male version of her. Eh, maybe a little sluttier, if she was honest. They were both serial monogamists. Jack just took the word serial as a challenge. She had no doubt she’d interrupted something. A dinner date? After-dinner fun? Either way, Jack would forgive her.

He was one of her dearest friends, and he had at least some idea of the existence of Things That Were Not Normal. He was really funny about what he’d acknowledge openly, but he definitely knew about magic. As pissed as she was with Lizzie right now, thank goodness she had Jack—even if he was a smartass. No, especially because he was a smartass.

Her doorbell rang. That was another great thing about Jack—he lived just around the corner.

She opened the door with a smile on her face. But the concern she saw, the sympathy, it was too much, and the tears started again.

Jack wrapped her in a bear hug and held her tight. As she sniffled into his shoulder, she couldn’t help but think it was too bad she and Jack had missed their moment. He was firmly in the brother camp now. But no. It was great, because they were so much better as friends.

Taking a breath and sniffling, she stepped away and motioned for Jack to come in. “Nice. I’ve made your shirt all damp. I’ve got to stop acting like a lunatic practically on my front porch. The neighbors already think I’m strange.” At Jack’s curious look, she added, “I may have answered my door and had a lengthy conversation with Lizzie and Mom on the front porch while wearing nothing but a towel.”

Jack laughed. “I bet your pervy neighbor was peering through his windows.”

“Mr. Matheson was in his driveway, having just returned home with Mrs. Matheson. She was not pleased.” She shut the front door firmly then turned around to lean against it. Jack offered her a hanky. Who carried handkerchiefs anymore? Jack was one in a million. “Thanks,” she said, accepting the folded square of crisp cotton. Unfolding it, she eyed him askance. “You iron your hankies?”

He grinned. “My housekeeper does.” The grin faded. “So, ah, I’m not sure I’ve ever seen you cry. You know you’re going to be fine, right?” Jack ducked down low, trying to catch her gaze. “Unless…have you changed your mind? I thought…”

“That I’d been trying to have a child for years? Right—for about eight of my ten years of marriage, that would be true. But I’m not married.” Her heart pounded in her chest. She bent over, trying to catch her breath.

“Kenna…Kenna? Hey, are you okay?”

A hysterical burble of laughter escaped before she could stop it. “No. I’m happily single. I’d finally—finally!—decided not to have any kids. And now I’m unexpectedly pregnant. Oh, and apparently a witch. And don’t get me started on my whacked-out freaking hormones.” A small sob escaped. “I am not okay.”

Jack winced. “Have you talked to the father?”

Ever the problem-solver, her buddy Jack. But really, that was the problem he focused on? “You cannot avoid the massive elephant here. I. Am. A. Witch.”

“I got that, darling. Since half the people you know have some kind of magic, I don’t find that nearly as shocking as you seem to. But the question remains—have you talked to the father?”

She growled in frustration. Really? Someday they were having a chat about exactly how much Jack did and did not know about the magic-using community. She was pretty sure he’d been as ignorant as her just a few months ago.

She sniffled then blew her nose. “No.”

“Kenna.”

“Could you sound slightly less disapproving? That is not a conversation I’m particularly excited about. Hell, I just found out myself.” She sniffed again and shot him a grumpy look. “Besides, you’re here to comfort me. Start comforting.”

“I comforted. I gave you my emergency hanky specifically reserved for scoring with hot, distressed women, and I let you ruin my shirt with your soppy mascara. I’ve moved on to the next phase: problem-solving.” He headed in the direction of the kitchen. “You need a distraction, so why not one that will actually move you forward and out of this funk?”

She trailed along behind him, his balled-up hanky clutched in her hand. He had a point. So annoying. “Oh—I have tea.” She brightened considerably at the thought.

Turning the corner to the kitchen, she caught Jack pulling a beer from the fridge. He didn’t even look guilty.

“What? You can’t drink it.” He closed the fridge and rummaged around in her spare utensil drawer for a bottle opener.

She glared.

“Oh—I’m supposed to suffer because you’re off the booze for a while?” He popped the cap off and took a drink. “Uh, no. So who’s the baby daddy?”

“If you’re going to taunt me with your beer consumption, the least you can do is put the kettle on. I have a special tea.” He raised his eyebrows, so she explained. “Trust me, you want me to drink the tea. It makes me less crazy-pregnant-witch lady.”

He set his beer down and hustled to fill the kettle.

“Thanks—I think.” When he was done at the sink, she splashed some water on her face. Patting at a damp patch on her neck with a dishtowel, she said, “Really, baby daddy?”

“He is your baby’s daddy. Who is this mystery man with the extra-potent sperm?”

She filled a tea ball with some of her special tea, and dropped it in her favorite teapot. She wasn’t a big tea drinker, but Lizzie was, so she stayed stocked with a few of her favorites and had two cute teapots. Three pots a day, maybe seven months of pregnancy left. She groaned. Who knew they’d get so much use? She headed to the kitchen table with her teacup and saucer in hand.

And she definitely ignored Jack’s question.

“That tea smells like ass. Uh, no offense.” Jack grabbed the pot and followed her.

“Hmm. It tastes like dirt. I’d offer you some, but I have no idea what pregnant-witch tea would do to a guy.” She sat down and wrapped her hands around the warm teacup.

“You have no clue what’s in that stuff, do you?”

“Nope, not a clue.” She stared at her tea.

Jack sat down across the table from her. “Not to linger on an awkward question, but I don’t see you having drunken, unprotected sex with a handsome stranger.”

“Is there a question in there somewhere?” she asked. When he raised an eyebrow in response, she caved. “Ugh. It’s Max. The father is Max.”

“You’re telling me you had drunken, unprotected sex with Max?” Jack crossed his arms over his chest.

“Don’t be an ass.” Kenna shook her head. “I am not having this conversation with you.”

“Does that mean I’m breaking his fingers? Or a kneecap?”

“If that’s your caveman way of asking me whether he broke my heart, the answer is no.” She couldn’t help a short, sharp, humorless laugh. “It’s not like that. Or if it is, you’re breaking my fingers, because I was the ditcher, not the ditchee. Pass on the broken fingers, by the way.” She winced at how she’d treated Max that first month after their…fling? Sexcapade? She wasn’t sure what exactly they’d had. “Max tried. I just…”

“You just didn’t.” Jack sounded resigned.

“I just couldn’t. It’s not the same thing. You can stop with the judgey attitude. You’re not any better.”

“Whatever.” He gulped some of her imported beer. “You and dating is an issue that’s much too complicated to get into now, anyway. But if you weren’t dating…”

“How’d I get knocked up?” Kenna took a sip of her tea. She could actually tell a difference. The dirt-tasting stuff appeared to mellow her out considerably. “Birds, bees, et cetera.”

Jack gave her an annoyed look.

Kenna let out an exasperated huff. “Okay, fine. First, there was a protection malfunction. One barren woman plus one fertile male does not a baby make—so no stress. A frank conversation about STDs followed, in which I confessed to a religious adherence to the principles of safe sex—minus abstinence, naturally.”