Read Online Witch's Diary: A Paranormal Urban Fantasy Tale (Lost Library Book 4) by Kate Baray - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Kate Baray
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pieces of cloth tying her hands together burned as she twisted her wrists, testing for any give in her restraints. She pulled the knot tighter, giving her hands just a little more room. Room to at least try to untie her feet. And if she untied her feet, maybe she could run.
Gwen worked surreptitiously, making only tiny, incremental movements. The driver and his passenger hadn’t stopped the car or even made any noise when she’d fallen over, so she was taking that as a good sign. They must believe her still unconscious. It took several minutes, but her three-times-weekly yoga paid off and she got her feet untied.
And now, to gamble or not. That the van doors weren’t locked. That the van wasn’t traveling faster than she’d estimated. That she’d survive the fall. That someone would be on the other side of those doors. That some traveler would stop.
Fuck it. She threw the die and rolled toward the van doors.
She fumbled with the latch. It opened. She took a deep breath for courage, tried to relax her body, failed, and hit the ground hard. Her last thought before blacking out was to hope she’d bounce half as well at sixty as she had at thirty.
Gwen felt a deep ache in her cheek first. Then hands under her arms, grabbing. She let her body go limp, and tried to rip her fire from deep inside. She jerked as the wash of cold passed through her whole body this time, making her convulse. She did the last thing she could as they dragged her dead weight, knees scraping on the ground—she screamed “fire” for all she was worth.
One of the men let go long enough to punch her. He’d just punched a woman old enough to be his mother; shame on him. The thought slid through her mind as she tasted the copper-salt of blood in her mouth. She spat on the ground and then screamed again.
Chapter 6
Kenna figured she had a good week to ride out the “flu” she’d reported at work, but after that… She sank further into the living room sofa. Well, she’d be spending a lot of time this week deciding what exactly her future plans were. But today was only Tuesday, day two of her fake flu, so she cranked up the volume on her TV and went back to binge-watching Supernatural .
She planned to catch up on a few episodes—at least until her OB appointment in the afternoon. She grabbed a handful of popcorn and stuffed it in her mouth. How her mom managed such a quick appointment… Kenna shook her head. She had more than one kind of magic, her mom.
Her phone rang for the second time in the last few minutes. She picked it up and looked at the caller ID, sure it would be Lizzie again. She wanted to mope, be pathetic, watch TV, and eat salty foods. Not talk to her best friend. Jack’s name popped up on the screen. She touched the ignore icon on her phone and frowned in annoyance. Weird, first Lizzie, and now Jack. The world apparently didn’t think the pregnant, witchy version of herself could handle a morning alone.
She shoved another handful of popcorn in her mouth. And again her phone rang. Ugh. She reached to silence it and saw that it was John. What the fuck? When the Texas Pack leader was calling you—even if he was her friend’s fiancé—that was bad. She wiped her hands on the hem of her old T-shirt and answered.
“Hello?”
“Thank God. I thought you’d never answer.” Lizzie’s voice was strained. “Are you home? Uh, sitting down?”
Even more annoyed, Kenna stood up and walked into the kitchen to wash her hands. “Sure. What’s wrong?”
Silence followed.
“Lizzie? Are you still there? What’s going on?”
“Yeah. First, your mom is fine.”
Kenna stopped. “I’m sorry—what?”
“We—John and I—just got a…” Lizzie’s next words were garbled. “A message. We just got a message about your mom. We’re driving over right now. And Jack should be there in a few minutes. Don’t leave the house.”
Something was wrong. Horribly wrong.
A pounding at Kenna’s door startled her from her frozen
Gwen worked surreptitiously, making only tiny, incremental movements. The driver and his passenger hadn’t stopped the car or even made any noise when she’d fallen over, so she was taking that as a good sign. They must believe her still unconscious. It took several minutes, but her three-times-weekly yoga paid off and she got her feet untied.
And now, to gamble or not. That the van doors weren’t locked. That the van wasn’t traveling faster than she’d estimated. That she’d survive the fall. That someone would be on the other side of those doors. That some traveler would stop.
Fuck it. She threw the die and rolled toward the van doors.
She fumbled with the latch. It opened. She took a deep breath for courage, tried to relax her body, failed, and hit the ground hard. Her last thought before blacking out was to hope she’d bounce half as well at sixty as she had at thirty.
Gwen felt a deep ache in her cheek first. Then hands under her arms, grabbing. She let her body go limp, and tried to rip her fire from deep inside. She jerked as the wash of cold passed through her whole body this time, making her convulse. She did the last thing she could as they dragged her dead weight, knees scraping on the ground—she screamed “fire” for all she was worth.
One of the men let go long enough to punch her. He’d just punched a woman old enough to be his mother; shame on him. The thought slid through her mind as she tasted the copper-salt of blood in her mouth. She spat on the ground and then screamed again.
Chapter 6
Kenna figured she had a good week to ride out the “flu” she’d reported at work, but after that… She sank further into the living room sofa. Well, she’d be spending a lot of time this week deciding what exactly her future plans were. But today was only Tuesday, day two of her fake flu, so she cranked up the volume on her TV and went back to binge-watching Supernatural .
She planned to catch up on a few episodes—at least until her OB appointment in the afternoon. She grabbed a handful of popcorn and stuffed it in her mouth. How her mom managed such a quick appointment… Kenna shook her head. She had more than one kind of magic, her mom.
Her phone rang for the second time in the last few minutes. She picked it up and looked at the caller ID, sure it would be Lizzie again. She wanted to mope, be pathetic, watch TV, and eat salty foods. Not talk to her best friend. Jack’s name popped up on the screen. She touched the ignore icon on her phone and frowned in annoyance. Weird, first Lizzie, and now Jack. The world apparently didn’t think the pregnant, witchy version of herself could handle a morning alone.
She shoved another handful of popcorn in her mouth. And again her phone rang. Ugh. She reached to silence it and saw that it was John. What the fuck? When the Texas Pack leader was calling you—even if he was her friend’s fiancé—that was bad. She wiped her hands on the hem of her old T-shirt and answered.
“Hello?”
“Thank God. I thought you’d never answer.” Lizzie’s voice was strained. “Are you home? Uh, sitting down?”
Even more annoyed, Kenna stood up and walked into the kitchen to wash her hands. “Sure. What’s wrong?”
Silence followed.
“Lizzie? Are you still there? What’s going on?”
“Yeah. First, your mom is fine.”
Kenna stopped. “I’m sorry—what?”
“We—John and I—just got a…” Lizzie’s next words were garbled. “A message. We just got a message about your mom. We’re driving over right now. And Jack should be there in a few minutes. Don’t leave the house.”
Something was wrong. Horribly wrong.
A pounding at Kenna’s door startled her from her frozen
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