Free Witch's Diary: A Paranormal Urban Fantasy Tale (Lost Library Book 4) by Kate Baray Page B

comfort her, but he just sounded condescending.
    Kenna said, “And you’re full of shit.”
    Lizzie looked ready to defend him, but John held up his hand. He flipped the tablet around into Kenna’s line of sight. “Pay attention. Does she look hurt?”
    “Are you a crazy man? She’s bleeding. Her jeans are ripped to shreds around her knees. They obviously beat her up—look at her face. Shit. She’s sixty years old, John.”
    “Look at the video.” John muted the sound before playing it again. “Does she look seriously hurt?”
    Kenna gave John a nasty look she hoped he interpreted as “you’re a douchebag.” But she also couldn’t help but watch the screen right in front of her. It made her heart hurt, until… “Holy shit. She is crazy-ass pissed. Like, I stayed out all night for prom, didn’t come home till ten a.m. pissed. Whoa.”
    “Yes,” John said quietly, without any additional fuss.
    Smart man.
    If her mom was that angry, chances were good she wasn’t seriously hurt. Her eyes were sharp, her posture good—for a tied-up person. Damn. Her mom took serious badassness to a new level.
    Kenna’s brain hurt. She couldn’t think, let alone plan. “So what do we do next?”
    Lizzie said, “Call Harrington. Beg for help. Or at least some way to stall. Though she didn’t give a timetable, John and I both think we need to contact Margot right away. Let her know we’re working on it.”
    “Argh.” Kenna hated it, but Lizzie was right that they needed to beg. “Harrington is such a sneaky bastard. How do we not have any other contacts with IPPC?”
    Lizzie smiled weakly. “You know we do. But Harrington’s the biggest fish.” She wrinkled up her nose. “I don’t think he’s sneaky. He’s…” She shifted her head from side to side, clearly looking for a more charitable adjective. Firmly, she said, “He’s committed to IPPC.”
    Right—that was what made him move everyone’s lives around like they were so many chess pieces in a game. He was “committed.” Shit—her mom was one of those pieces. Kenna massaged the muscles in her jaw. Her mom was fine. Totally fine. For now. “Who gets the honors?”
    “Oh, definitely Lizzie,” John said. “She’s the only one with an official connection to IPPC.”
    Kenna stopped rubbing her aching jaw muscles. It wasn’t helping; she’d have to stop rabidly clenching her teeth. “Crap. I’m sorry, Lizzie. I forgot about your consulting gig with them.”
    Lizzie lifted a hand then pulled out her phone. After a few seconds of waiting, she had Harrington on the line.
    “John, Jack, and Kenna are with me… Yes.” Lizzie tucked a few stray curls behind her ear. “We have a problem. Kenna’s mother, Gwen McIntyre—yes, that’s her. Sure. Hold on.” Lizzie set the phone down on the table and tapped the speaker icon. “The Coven of Light are holding her. They’ve charged her with a number of serious offenses, per Margot.”
    “Margot? Marguerite Brasseaux?” Harrington said.
    “Yes,” Lizzie replied. She kept her eyes pinned to her phone on the table.
    “Is there any way to verify the charges?” Harrington asked.
    “John here. The only contact the Texas Pack has had with the witches has been through Gwen. The Idaho Pack reached a settlement with the local Coven of Light branch near them. But the agreement focuses primarily on mutual non-interference. I also wouldn’t trust any information originating from that particular branch, because we have proof that they’re allied with Margot.” John paused then added, “At least a few members of that branch.”
    Something, some important piece of information, nagged at the back of Kenna’s mind.
    Lizzie had been quietly tapping the table with her forefinger. She stopped suddenly and shot an exasperated look at the phone. “Don’t you have any contact with the witch community? For the love of Mike—you even have contacts with the dragons. Isn’t there someone, somewhere that you