Witch's Diary: A Paranormal Urban Fantasy Tale (Lost Library Book 4) (28 page)

“Tell me how those glasses work again?” Max stashed the bags with their unused gear under some brush, marking the location on a small GPS unit he stashed in his back pocket.

Jack added some leaves to the base of the bush, making sure the bags weren’t visible. “I should be able to see magic, including magical people, with them on.” Jack held one of the bright orange vests in his hand and eyed it skeptically. “Really?”

“Yes, really. I told you when I packed them, it’s that or get shot on sight. We’re carrying guns. At least if we’re wearing orange we look like we want to be seen. Maybe even like hunters. And then maybe we make it long enough to start a conversation.” Max slipped the vest on over his plain gray T-shirt.

Jack pulled his vest on, as well. “I’m just not so sure two drunk bastards would be smart enough to put on safety vests.”

Max shrugged. “It’s all we have that fits with this plan. All right. Let’s head to the main road and wander around in front of the cameras. That should draw at least a small crowd.” Max handed one of the rifles to Jack.

It didn’t take more than five or six minutes of the two of them strolling up the private road to the compound before Jack got a hit with his glasses.

“Ha. I’ve got them.” Jack grinned, the warded horn-rimmed glasses looking distinctly out of place on his face. They gave him an intellectual air that was at odds with his drunken idiot persona. “They’re on the way. And not just a few. Must be a slow night and we’re the best entertainment around, because I’ve got six witches already headed our way.”

“Got it.” Max took a breath. This was the hard part. They may have guns, but they didn’t actually want to kill anyone. Hell, they didn’t want to fire a shot—not in an open encounter like they were about to have. His and Jack’s best chance of success was in presenting themselves as completely harmless. Because once either of them started shooting, they’d have to kill all of the Coven witches converging on them. He was pretty sure he and Jack weren’t fast enough to do that before they both went up in flames. And he didn’t even know what a water witch or an air witch could do to them. Dammit, he needed to focus on creating a chill vibe, or he wouldn’t come anywhere close to pulling this off.

He could do this. Max took a swig of whiskey, loosened his stance, and slouched. As the six men approached from the direction of the compound, he had a disturbing thought. Was acting more terrifying than shooting at people? Not that he liked shooting people; he absolutely did not. Shooting people was really bad. He sighed.

Good Lord. Let this be over fast.

Max lifted a hand in the air and made a big waving motion with his entire arm. “Hello,” he called out. “Hey there. A little help?”

At least three of the men were visibly armed with shotguns, another had a rifle, and several had been running. None had their weapons pointed directly at him or Jack. And when they saw him flagging them down, they slowed to a walk. No women were present.

“Hi,” Max called out. “Maybe you guys could help us?”

One of the men approached, a guarded look on his face. “This is a private road. That leads to private property.”

“Well, hell.” Max made sure the hand holding his rifle remained loose. “I apologize for the language. My buddy over here, he said he knew where we are.” Max turned to Jack. “You don’t have a freaking clue where we are, do you?”

“Watch it, man. At least I found the fucking road, didn’t I?” Jack jutted his chin out and his features turned hard.

“Awww. Watch your language, you rude son of a…” Max growled.

There was a small crowd gathering behind the man who’d spoken. Max casually ran his eye over the group. Two more had joined, so the total was up to eight. “You guys, I’m sorry. My friend’s had a little whiskey. And a few beers.” Three more were walking up the road in the distance for a total of eleven. Not bad. “He’s normally not this much of a tool.”

“Maybe you and your friend shouldn’t be out hunting if you’ve been drinking.” The Coven member sounded condescending and annoyed, but not angry or exceptionally suspicious. So far, so good.

“Ehhh.” Max waved a hand. “That’s half the fun of it, isn’t it? Drinking with your buddies, waiting in brush.”

One smartass witch said, “Getting lost around dinner time.”

“Yeah. About that. We’ve been out here a while and we’re getting kinda hungry.” Max glared at Jack. “Someone forgot the Vienna sausages.”

Jack lifted his lip in a sneer. “That’s right. Someone did, didn’t he?”

“Hey, now. I told you, yesterday, I told you. Pack the wieners. But you didn’t pack the wieners.” Max looked at the crowd, up to thirteen now. “You guys woulda packed the wieners, right?” Max squinted. “Hey. Did we interrupt a party?”

Thirteen was a big group. Even a wasted nut job had to notice that was a little weird.

“That’s right. We were having a barbecue and you interrupted. Time for you and your friend to leave. Like I said, this is a private road and you’re headed in the wrong direction.” An older man stepped forward and pointed them down the road, in the opposite direction Max and Jack had been traveling.

Jack perked up. “Can we get some dinner down the road? And we ran out of beer. They got beer down that way?”

“Sure. Walk a mile, turn left at the intersection. Half a mile on your right you’ll find a gas station.” The man took a breath. “All the sausages and beer you might want.”

Max gave the man a wide, genuine smile. And there was his out. “We’ll do that, sir. Yes, sir. And sorry to disturb.” Max was standing just a few feet from Jack. He jabbed Jack in the ribs. “Say thank you.”

Jack frowned at Max and sniffed, then mumbled, “Thank you.”

“Come on, you jackass. Let’s get some dinner.” Max turned and headed in the direction they’d been directed, grabbing Jack’s vest and pulling him.

And then it went to hell.

“Stop.”

Fuck. Max stopped and turned back to face the speaker. “Yessir. You got some beers for us? For the road?”

Fuck and fuck again. This guy was in charge. He must have just arrived. Yeah—the crowd was at fifteen. And he knew Jack and Max were totally full of shit.

“What agency do you represent?”

Max shook his head. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what you mean.”

Jesus, was this guy mistaking them for feds?

“ATF? DOJ?” When Max just blinked in confusion, the guy kept talking. “Doesn’t matter. You’re trespassing. Which means you’re in violation of the law. Nothing you discover will be admissible in court. Although I’m sure you haven’t found anything this evening, officers. Have you?”

Jack held up a hand. “Really, man. We don’t know what you’re talking about. We’re just out, having some fun.”

“I’ve changed my mind. I’d like your badge numbers, because I plan to report this ridiculous excuse for surveillance to your superiors.” The man in charge nodded at two of his men, who approached.

Max leapt through about five possible scenarios, discarding each. If only he’d gotten the name of Clark’s contact on the force. By the time the two security types had approached, he had a plan. He lifted his hands. “I don’t have my badge on me, but you don’t need the number.” Max tried his best to look like he was in some serious trouble. Surprisingly easy, given that he was. “You don’t need the number to report us. We’re with Idaho Fish and Game. We heard there were illegal traps on the property.”

“Go on,” the boss guy said.

“You can catch my boss at home.” Max shrugged helplessly. “It’s after hours. Uh—can I grab my phone?” After a curt nod from the guy in charge—likely Gage or Bentley; Max was guessing Gage—Max pulled his cell from his pocket and scrolled through his numbers. Finding the one he needed, he sent a silent prayer up that his old army buddy would play along, then he supplied the Coven man with Game Warden Zach Friedman’s home number.

The man dialed the number Max gave him. “This is Raymond Gage. I’m calling to complain about two of your officers.” Gage looked at Max expectantly. “Your name?”

“Max Thorton.” Shooting a quick look at Jack, Max added, “And Chris Landford.” Now if Jack would just be a good boy and keep his mouth shut…

“I’d like to make a complaint about Max Thorton and Chris Landford. They’re trespassing on my property. And they’re drunk.” After a minute or two, Gage smiled grimly. “I’ll do that.” Gage ended the call and stashed his cell. Giving Max a nasty look, he said, “I’m not sure what your motivations are, but you’re in a world of trouble at work. Your boss said you’re to apologize, leave, and show up at work an hour early tomorrow to discuss disciplinary action.” Gage motioned the small crowd—now seventeen and including a few women—back to their houses.

“My apologies.” Max tried to look as shamefaced as he could.

Jack chimed in, “I’m sorry we interrupted your barbecue.”

Giving Max and Jack a last dismissive look, Gage said, “Good evening, gentlemen.”

Max and Jack turned away from the compound and started down the road.

After they’d gone about a quarter of a mile, Jack gave Max a sidelong look. “Are we DOJ? Seriously? What are these guys into?”

Max pressed his lips together.

“We’re good.” Jack tapped his glasses. “No one around, and the cameras are visual surveillance only.”

Max shook his head. “Shit. I hope Zach doesn’t get fired over this crap.”

“If he does, you and I are finding him a new and better job.” Jack was moving at a good clip now. They’d rounded a bend in the road. While still visible by surveillance, they couldn’t be seen by any of the Coven members who’d met them on the road.

Max sped up, keeping pace with Jack. “We need to leave a wider cushion between us and the compound on the way back. They’ll have upped security because of our incident. And that’s assuming they haven’t discovered Kenna’s crew.”

Jack shook his head. “Up to three minutes ago, I’d say they were safe.”

“Yeah.” Max sucked in air between his teeth. “Gage would have been called away. Let’s move.”

Max and Jack booked it from the long private drive of the compound, through the woods, and headed to the back of the compound where they’d left Kenna, Harry, and the witchy crew earlier. With any luck, Kenna’s team would be waiting for them. And given the number of Coven members Max and Jack had managed to divert to the front of the compound, the odds were a little better Kenna and company had been successful.

Chapter 24

As soon as Harry and Walter disappeared into the house and out of Kenna’s sight, there was a shout then a crash. Kenna’s breath came in short gasps. Should they help? Her eyes met Angela’s, also full of worry. But Angela’s quick head shake kept her in place. A solid thud sounded as a body—surely it was a body—hit the wall next to Kenna’s shoulder. As she cowered next to the door, waiting, Kenna realized two things. She had a fucking gun. And she wasn’t letting her friends get squashed while she huddled like a scared bunny next to the door. What the hell was wrong with her?

She took a breath, reached behind her and pulled her gun, slipped the safety off, and grasped the gun with both hands. Because her hands were definitely shaking. Finger on the trigger guard—no friendly fire was happening today—she stepped into the doorway and immediately dropped down into a crouch.

From her crouch, Kenna could see Harry helping Walter up off the ground. Then a noise to her right caught her attention. A man lay slumped on the ground, against the wall. Actually, “crumpled” was a better description.

“Kenna, put the gun down. He’s out.” Harry let go of Walter’s arm and turned to face her. “Kenna, I’m not keen on getting shot. Put the gun down.”

Kenna scowled at him. “My finger’s not even on the trigger.” She lifted and wiggled her trigger finger. “I know I’m not Max. Although I’m planning to work on that when we get home. And the muzzle was never pointed at you. I’m good with gun safety, contrary to whatever you may be thinking.” What the hell was she dithering about? “Where’s Mom? And who’s this guy?”

“I’m hoping your mom is behind that massive wall of…” Walter gestured to a short hallway that led away from the kitchen.

“Ick?” Kenna supplied the first word that popped in her head. The nasty, creeping feeling had intensified in the house, and now it felt like it was seeping into her skin. She looked around. The back door had entered directly to the kitchen, but she’d been too distracted to notice.

Harry sighed. “Yeah, ick.”

Walter leaned out the back door and said, “Come on.”

Kenna holstered her gun and pulled a pair of zip-tie cuffs out of her interior fleece pocket.

“Oh, can I?” Alan almost bounced with enthusiasm as he approached Kenna.

Shrugging, Kenna handed him the cuffs. Turning to Harry, she asked, “What’s the holdup? Can’t we just walk down the hall? I can see the door from here.”

The house couldn’t be more than a thousand square feet. She could see straight down the short hall to a door—the door to the room where her mother had to be held.

Harry was rubbing his temples. “I’m thinking. This thing is massive—the cell and the magic. Maybe if we just make a little rip—”

“Guys, there’s a slot in the door.” Angela pointed, shining a flashlight on the bottom of the door in question.

They huddled at the entrance to the short hall, until finally Harry said from the back of the group, “Uh, I think we’re good to leave the kitchen, guys.”

Kenna felt like an idiot, but she supposed there could have been booby traps…or something.

Angela shined her flashlight on the hall wall, revealing a short hooked stick hanging there. She retrieved it, and after a cursory examination, said, “To open the door slot? Any idea if it’s safe?”

Harry said, “I don’t know. The cell’s magic could end at the top of the slot. They’ve got to have some way to deliver meals, and if they can’t open it, I’m not sure how that would happen. I certainly don’t see them deconstructing the cell for each meal delivery.”

“Good enough for me.” Kenna took the stick from Angela and slid the slot open. Looking back over her shoulder, she said, “So far so good. Angela?”

Angela stepped forward and took the stick from Kenna, making sure the slot stayed open. She called out as Kenna slowly approached the door. “Gwen? Gwen? Are you in there?”