Witch's Diary: A Paranormal Urban Fantasy Tale (Lost Library Book 4) (26 page)

“Clark and his people can’t help us. They should have some good intel, but they can’t provide us with any direct assistance.” Max rubbed his face. “They’ve got a non-interference treaty with the Coven of Light.”

“That’s interesting,” Harry said, perking up. “How in the world did that come about?”

Max grunted. “It was a mess. The local branch of the Coven was outed to the Idaho Pack as a result of some bullshit Margot pulled. Once the Idaho Pack and the northwestern branch of the Coven became officially, mutually aware of each other’s existence, they began treaty negotiations.”

“The result of which is that we get no Lycan help.” Resignation colored Jack’s voice. Understanding the politics didn’t make the result any more palatable.

“Fascinating. I’ll be interested to meet Clark.” Harry’s comment generated two curious looks, so he said, “An American Alpha who negotiates with enemies is hardly typical. Traditionally, Alphas fight, hide, and exclude. It looks like Lycan are at least moving into the last century.”

Jack’s phone rang. “It’s Clark.” He tapped the screen.

They’d agreed Jack would be point person for the mission once they boarded the plane. Kenna didn’t have the experience, and Max didn’t have the detachment necessary.

Did Kenna have any idea Jack had feelings for her? It had become more obvious to Max over the last few days. But Max would bet the profits off his next book she didn’t have a clue. If there was such a thing as relationship IQ, Kenna’s was shockingly low. He’d never have guessed she’d been married for ten years.

Jack ended the call. “Better news than we’d hoped.” He stood up and motioned for Harry and Max to follow.

~*~

“I’ve got an update from Idaho’s Alpha,” Jack announced as he sat down. “The Pack’s picking us up at the airport and escorting us to within a few miles of the Coven compound. They’ve got some detailed satellite imagery of the compound and an estimate of numbers. The place is run by a guy named William Bentley. His assistant, apparently more of a VP than a secretary, is Raymond Gage.”

Angela raised her hand, flagging the group’s attention. “That’s new. They’re moderates. Actually, I know Bentley is a moderate. I assume his right-hand man would be, too. But my point is, the Pacific Northwest Coven of Light has traditionally been governed by radicals.”

“What defines radicalization in the eyes of the Coven?” Harry asked.

Walter leaned forward in his seat. “Radicals believe in the strict segregation of witches. They typically place the least value on non-magical human life—though that’s a very broad generalization.”

“The reason the Pack won’t enter the compound is because they’ve got a non-interference treaty with the Pacific Northwest Coven.” Jack glanced down at his beeping phone. “Max, can you grab my tablet out of my bag?”

“That fits,” Angela said. “It’s unlikely a radical leader would have allowed enough contact with the Pack to reach an agreement.”

Max handed Jack his bag. “So, if the moderates are so forward thinking as to fashion treaties with other magic-users, how are they now the same witches who are holding Gwen?”

Shaking her head, Angela said, “Not forward thinking. Different thinking than the radicals. They’re not opposed to working with other magic-users. They’ll accept payment for services from other magic-users. They’re in closer contact with non-magical humans. Combine proximity and a disgust for non-magical lives, and a much more dangerous situation for people with no magic evolves.”

“The moderates are where you’ll find mercenary witches, witches who will hire out their services to like-minded magical people,” Walter said. “And you’ll also find the formation of coalitions with non-witches among moderates. A perfect match for Margot.”

“Any chance you know when the leadership change happened?” Jack asked Angela.

“I didn’t know it had. But I can tell you that three years ago, maybe as few as two years, the NW was radical. Ethan Peterson, the national leader and the Coven’s highest leader, came out of the Pacific Northwest. When he ascended, he may have left a vacuum, which would have given the moderates a foothold.” Angela shrugged helplessly. “Maybe.”

Jack gave her an encouraging smile. “That’s helpful. Thanks.” He pulled up a map on his tablet. “I’m working off the images Clark gave me. He says the compound where Gwen is being held isn’t far from Boise proper, and it houses about twenty to twenty-five witches.”

“That’s not enough,” Alan said.

“Alan means that’s not enough witches to power a holding cell,” Walter explained. The creases around his mouth deepened. “Hopefully they have access to a magical wellspring. If not, they’re powering the cell with death magic. I doubt they’d have any qualms about using locals.”

A tense silence followed his statement.

Her eyes wide, Angela said, “There’s a reason we work to place checks on the Coven. If they’re killing humans to fuel their magical power needs, someone has to stop them.”

“I get it—but today we’re here for Gwen,” Jack said. “Our Lycan contacts think that she’s likely to be here, but Harry can easily confirm from a distance with a sensing ward. There’s no way they’re hiding the massive magical output of a cell.” He pointed to a small house on the property near the eastern edge.

Jack explained his plan: “Harry casts a sensing ward to confirm our target location is here.” He pointed to a house located at the farthest point from the road, one of a cluster of houses. “Max and I create a distraction here.” He pointed to the roadside entrance to the small housing development. “The witch crew plus Harry sneak into the house, at which point you all try to keep the booms, bangs, and flashing lights to a minimum. Max and I extricate ourselves and meet up with everyone—including the newly liberated Gwen—here.” He pointed to the tree line closest to Gwen’s suspected location. “Questions?”

So, so many, but none that could be answered. Kenna would give herself a headache if she kept grinding away on her back molars. She unclenched her teeth. There was one question she could ask that likely had an answer: “Why that house?”

John explained, “It’s isolated slightly from the others, farthest from the entrance to the compound, and is relatively small. The other houses seem to be multi-family dwellings. It’s an educated guess. But either way, we won’t have confirmation until we’re on site and Harry casts a sensing ward. Gwen’s cell should light up like an explosive Christmas tree.”

Harry raised his hand slightly. “Yes—but not literally. I can cast a sensing ward without visuals. It’s easier, actually.”

“Each of you needs to take a moment to review the maps.” Jack handed the tablet to Walter.

Walter looked at the colorful screen saver. Swiping the screen, he said, “Then what?”

Max kicked his chair back. “Then you wait.”

Kenna rubbed at her sore jaw muscles. Waiting was the worst.

Frowning, Angela said, “Wait—and hope Harrington doesn’t call to tell us the decoy site has been pierced and the fake transfer revealed.”

“Yeah, that too,” Max said.

~*~

Two painfully long hours later, they touched down on the Idaho Pack’s private strip.

Disembarking, Max spotted the salt-and-pepper hair and burly build of Clark right away. He grabbed Jack and steered him in Clark’s direction. The rest of the crew followed behind.

Clark met them halfway, flanked by two Lycan, likely his enforcers. As he arrived, he hitched his thumb in the direction of a van fifty yards away. They turned as a group toward the vehicle. Clark said, “It’s unfortunate that we’re meeting under these circumstances, Max, but it’s good to see you.” Turning to Jack, he shook hands firmly and said, “You must be Jack.” Clark briefly studied him. “I’ve heard about you.”

Clark immediately pivoted to greet Kenna. She stretched out a hand and he shook it. They reached the van before she could introduce the crew. One of the enforcers opened the back door and waved them in.

Clark hopped in the front passenger side and his enforcer joined him in the driver’s seat. He canted his body to face the rear. “I understand you’re on a tight timeline.” At Jack’s nod, he continued, “You’ve got a twenty-minute ride and I’m with you for fifteen minutes. Before I start, is there anything specific you want to ask?”

“Is there a secondary compound?” Max asked. He remembered the witches’ concern with how the cell had been powered.

“Yes, but it’s an hour away. I’ve had eyes on them since I received John’s call, and there’s been no transport yet between the two. You should still have no more than twenty-five souls on site.”

“Who exactly does your treaty encompass?” Jack asked.

“The Idaho Pack and the northwest branch of the Coven. Your actions today shouldn’t affect the treaty—in theory. Whether you’re our guests or not, we can’t be responsible for action of non-pack individuals.”

Max shared a look with Jack.

“We were actually curious as to how many locals had gone missing in the last week,” Jack said. “And whether there was a provision in your treaty for them.” Clark’s eyes narrowed as Jack spoke. Jack leaned forward. “We think your witches are utilizing human sacrifice to power one of their gadgets.”

“Not a violation, unless they harm a pack member directly, and that hasn’t happened. They’d be idiots to target a pack member. But it jeopardizes the safety of the entire pack if they’re acting recklessly and risking exposure, whoever they’re targeting. I’ll make the argument, if it becomes necessary. How many people would they need?” Clark raised his eyebrows.

“No idea. It’s a hypothesis at this point. It might be worth a chat with your local law contacts.”

“No problem.” Clark shook his head. “About the sacrifices…I’ve got a man on the police department in town. I’ll have him look into it. Is there a particular time frame when the deaths would have occurred?” Max and Jack looked to the crew for help answering Clark’s question.

Walter responded, “It could be as recent as the last week, but I suspect constructing Gwen’s cell would take several weeks. Maybe one or two months.” Walter lips twitched, a look of distaste crossing his face. “And it’s always possible that death magic isn’t new for them.”

Clark sighed. “We’ll look into it. Any questions on the layout?”

Jack shook his head. “The maps were helpful.”

“Glad to hear it. All right then, about Bill Bentley. He’s ambitious, petty, and not particularly loyal to his people. He has a small circle of followers he trusts, Raymond Gage being his primary ally. There’s a great deal of distrust amongst him and his people, but he’s been their leader for at least the last year, from what we’ve discovered. We’ve assumed he’s either a powerful witch or connected with others who have more political clout.”

How the hell did Clark know this shit? Max knew the Idaho Pack and the local Coven branch had been in negotiations. But this was more than he’d expected. Apparently, Clark had taken a few notes.

“What do you know about Bentley’s sidekick, Gage?” Jack asked.

“He’s a different animal. Completely loyal to Bill, seemingly content as right-hand man. The closest I can tell, he’s a combination enforcer and pseudo-CEO. He runs many of the daily functions of the Coven, and he’s the public face of their local business interests. But he’s definitely completely controlled and directed by Bill.” Clark tapped his thumbs on the steering wheel. “We’re not happy about the proximity of these people to the Pack, but they’re a known enemy. Too much noise may bring a change of management.”

“Are you telling us to minimize the noise?” Max asked. He wasn’t sure they could get in and out at all. Trying to mitigate the fallout from their mission was the least of his concerns at this point.

“Hell, it may be too late if they’ve left a trail of bodies.” Clark sighed. “The Coven is unlike anything we’ve dealt with before. They’re no competing pack. They’re an organization, with levels of management that stretch across state borders. Chop off the head you see, and another will grow back. If you remove the current leadership, we won’t be entirely displeased—but it will make life interesting.”

Shit. Clark was hinting at future favors owed. John wasn’t going to be happy if this mission got messy, because Clark would be looking for some kind of compensation. Fucking pack politics. It fascinated Max—until he was mired in the middle of it.

“Our plan is to get in and out with as little mess as possible. But there are a number of uncontrollable variables.” Jack was smart enough not to make a promise they couldn’t keep.

“Yeah. There always are.” Clark shook his head. “Texting, videoconferencing, and even Twitter I can handle. But large, institutionalized enemies with layer upon layer of management make me want to retire. That’s a change I’d preferred not to have seen in my lifetime.”

Clark’s enforcer choked when Clark mentioned retirement, then coughed.

“Shut up, Hank.” Clark’s comment was muttered good-naturedly. “Lizzie’s called a few times. About IPPC branching out to the States. Maybe—” Clark swiveled his head to the window. “Almost there. Any last questions?”

The driver was pulling off onto a small side road.

“No,” Jack replied. “You’ve been a great help.”

“Humph. You’re welcome.” Clark and the driver hopped out. As Jack climbed in the driver’s seat, Clark said, “Don’t suppose, if things go awry, you might not just blow the whole place up?”

Jack laughed. “Doubtful. But we’ll keep it in mind.”

“If we are going to have a change in management, it would be nice to have something to keep the new guys occupied for a while. Rebuilding would be a nice little project.” Clark lifted his hands and smiled slightly. “Just a thought.”

Max hopped in the front passenger side. Leaning forward so he could see past Jack, he said, “Thanks, Clark.” He shook Clark’s hand through the open window. “We appreciate your help.”

Clark waved a final goodbye as he walked to the waiting car behind them.

Max swiped the screen on the tablet in his hand, bringing a map up. “Straight ahead three miles, then we need to stash the van. We’re looking for a small farmhouse with a barn. The property almost abuts the edge of the compound. Per Hank, Clark’s enforcer, that property is abandoned and the barn will conceal the van well enough for a few hours.” Jack looked over his shoulder. “You guys have been quiet. Everyone okay?”