Librarian Bear

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Librarian Bear Page 17

by Chant, Zoe


  "Well, that's alarming." A moment later the trees began to thin and they approached the clearing they'd seen on the map. A small, but long, wood house sat low in the clearing, its roundish roof grown over with grass that matched the rest of the greenery in the clearing. Sarah, who hadn't realized there was a house in the area at all, said, "Holy crap," in surprise.

  The house looked like it had been there since the beginning of time. Built with slender wooden upright beams and bark paneling, it reminded her of the traditional longhouses built by the Iroquois people, just much smaller. And those houses hadn't, to her knowledge, blended in with the scenery by having grass growing on the rounded tops.

  On the other hand, the original tribes of the area hadn't needed to go unnoticed by satellite imagery, either. The grassy roof seemed like a pretty innovative modern solution for a shifter who didn't want to draw attention, but something seemed strange about one section of the roof's and flowers. After a few seconds, Sarah realized they weren't moving with the wind, and after another moment, she saw through the illusion. There were solar panels on top of the little house, disguised by some kind of clever tech that made them blend with the actual earthen, growing roof.

  Moreover, while the greenery in the clearing wasn't the tidy rows she imagined when she thought of gardening, there were actually corn stalks and beans and squash growing all over the place.

  Enough to feed somebody, in fact. She breathed, "Wow," again, and Matthew smiled down at her in stunned delight.

  "Talk about living off the grid!"

  "Talk about hiding from the world in plain sight!"

  "Not hidden enough, it seems." A woman's accented voice came from the low covered door to the house. Sarah and Matt both startled as she stepped out, her expression wary but thoughtful. "You're new," she said to Matthew. She sounded as though English was not her first language, but that she had been speaking it for a very, very long time.

  "I am." Matthew's voice was very soft and somehow awestruck. Given the woman's evident age, Sarah thought everyone else on the whole planet must be new compared to her, although she probably meant he was a new-to-Virtue shifter.

  Sarah had never seen this woman, though. She was old, old in that hard leather and bootstraps way that some people got. Her masses of grey hair fell in two braids, and her black eyes were fierce and bright in a well-lined face. She wore modern clothes, but had the look of someone who had chosen, a long time ago, to live off the grid. Sarah thought she was probably Native American—probably Oneida, since they were the major tribe in the area—or, at the least, had studied Native farming techniques for her own personal survival.

  "I'm Matthew Rojas," Matt said. "A bear shifter, from Argentina."

  Sarah blinked at him in astonishment. That seemed like a lot of information to share upon meeting someone, and truthfully, even Matthew looked a little startled, like he hadn't entirely meant to say all of that.

  But the woman smiled. "New, and from very far away. You may call me Hazel."

  "Hazel. Thank you. Sorry," Sarah blurted. "We were looking for Wallace Evans."

  "Wallace lives a day's walk that way." Hazel pointed northwest, then tilted her head at her front door. "You may as well come in and tell me what you're here for, children."

  * * *

  The interior of the old woman's home was as simple and beautiful as the exterior. There were a few modern accoutrements—a small water heater and an equally small electric heater, both of which were presumably powered by the solar panels, which probably could have powered more. Sarah had the strong feeling Hazel had made a deliberate choice to limit the modern conveniences, though; that living off the grid was her goal. There was a bedstead made of thin, flexible wood with furs piled on it, a washbasin, and a pit scarred with scorch marks and a low oak bench around it. Beadwork and quillwork storage boxes lined the walls, with hand-carved masks hanging higher up.

  It looked like the dream-come-true of a survivalist, or, Sarah thought, maybe like the home of someone who had been doing this for a long, long time, and knew exactly how much she needed to get by. She and Matthew sat down on the oak bench, gingerly, and Hazel squatted across from them and studied them for a while.

  "You're the librarian," she said to Sarah eventually. "I knew your grandmother."

  An electric-like jolt went through Sarah. "You did? Really?"

  Amusement crossed Hazel's face. "Really. And her grandmother, too, when she came to Virtue."

  "But that was..." Sarah closed her eyes, trying to remember that Matthew turned into a bear on occasion and that Virtue had been settled by shifters the king of England knew about. Maybe a woman who had known her great-great-grandmother just after the Civil War wasn't that strange, in the grand scheme of things. "I thought shifters weren't immortal," she finally said in a whisper.

  "Most aren't." Hazel stood and went to pour water from a tall clay jug, then brought it to them. "A very few of us, though, are given reasons to carry on, and no, I will not tell you my reasons. Drink, children, and tell me what you need to know. You wouldn't be looking for Wallace if you didn't have questions," she said to Matthew's indrawn breath of surprise. "I wouldn't say I'm much of talker, but compared to Wallace, I've got a lot to say."

  "We're looking for the town charter," Sarah blurted as Hazel handed her a hand-carved wooden cup. "Not the secret one, although I want to know where that is, too. But the public one. It went missing decades ago. And a few days ago Wallace Evans warned us off trying to find it."

  Hazel's lip curled briefly. "Wallace would hide Virtue like Brigadoon if he could, but it's not like him to warn you against finding the charter."

  "Oh my God," Matthew said involuntarily. "I love that movie."

  The old woman's smile appeared suddenly, quick and warm. "I loved Gene Kelly."

  Before Sarah had a chance to decide what that meant, Hazel went on, "He won't help, though. He wouldn't even if he could. He's been a sour old man in the woods for too long now, and forgets that a little bit of kindness softens the soul."

  "Can you?" Sarah asked quietly. "I don't even—I don't even know what to ask, really. I knew Mr. Evans lived out in the woods, but you're..."

  "A secret," Hazel relied, visibly amused. "The old families know I'm here, but they leave me alone and I leave them alone in turn. Who told you about me?"

  "The Rowlys. Jake Rowly's parents? Chuck and Kim?"

  "Of course. They moved away a while ago, didn't they? Virtue wasn't giving them what they needed anymore."

  "That's right, but Jake moved back and is getting married at the end of the month."

  "To the girl who inherited Doris Brannigan's house," Hazel said with a nod.

  Sarah glanced at Matthew, smiling ruefully. Apparently Hazel knew everything about everyone in Virtue, which was impressive, for someone Sarah hadn't even known existed. She looked back at the old woman, and cautiously said, "I'm sorry, I know this is kind of rude, but...Hazel isn't your real name, is it?"

  Hazel's smile flashed again, brief and beautiful. "Of course not. That name is too old and too powerful to be spoken by the likes of you, child. Now, the charter. As it happens, I couldn't give you the 'secret' one if I wanted to. It's been buried a long time now. But as for the other..." She rose gracefully and went to one of her quillwork boxes, knelt in front of it, and spent a few minutes removing carefully folded papers and files.

  Matthew, watching her, said, "You wouldn't happen to have Elizabeth Todd's diary from the 1790s in there, would you? Or the town council records?"

  The old woman gave him a wicked, sparkling look over her shoulder, but instead of answering, rose again and came back to them with a framed document. "I think this is what you're looking for."

  Sarah bit her lip and took it in careful, reverential hands. It was larger than she'd expected, with enormous calligraphy letters proclaiming George the Fourth by the Grace of God at the top, and smaller ones saying granted a Charter of Township to VIRTUE in the Colony of New York on this 13th day of
October, 1768, and then, in increasingly fine print, laid out the details of the charter.

  The entire thing was gloriously illustrated with royal insignia that meant absolutely nothing to Sarah but looked very impressive. What did mean something to her, though, was the surprisingly excellent map of Virtue drawn at the bottom of the charter. It not only showed the town itself as it had been almost three centuries earlier, but clearly delineated Virtue's boundaries.

  "This is what we're looking for. This is exactly what we need."

  "It's 250 years old," Matthew said. "Is it going to hold up?"

  "Judge Owens thinks so. Thank you." Sarah lifted her gaze to Hazel, her heart full. "I don't know how you ended up with this, or how we managed to find you, but thank you."

  "Oh," Hazel replied blithely, "I stole it from a thief, that's how. And you're welcome."

  "You what!" Sarah shouted with laughter as the old woman sparkled smugly.

  "It was taken from the historical society house decades ago by people who didn't have Virtue's best interests in mind," Hazel replied. "I stole it back from them, but it obviously wasn't safe to return it to the town's keeping. An advantage to being forgotten is no one imagines you're there to steal from."

  "Who?"

  "No one who dares cross me now," Hazel said with a kind of cool ferocity. "And as for you, you should go on. Bring the charter to the judge, and save your friend's farm."

  Sarah, nervously, said, "Okay," and stood with the charter held carefully in her arms. "Thank you so much. And—can we come and see you again?"

  Hazel smiled, as if surprised. "Well, you know I'm here now. I suppose nothing much could stop you, if you decided to."

  "I'd really like that. Thank you again." Sarah let Matthew lead her out of the remote little house, because she was afraid she would otherwise spend the rest of the day there, repeating variations on 'thank you.' They widened their eyes at each other in excitement as soon as they were outdoors, but Sarah, remembering shifters had good hearing, kept her mouth shut until they'd reached the edge of Hazel's clearing.

  Then she glanced back, and to her thrilled delight, saw a sleek fox, grey and white with age, sitting on the top of Hazel's house and watching them go.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  It took an act of supreme willpower to keep from dancing with excitement until they'd gotten well away from the old woman's house. Then Matthew gave up all pretense of being cool and stamped his feet with astonished disbelief that Sarah shared through a huge, amazed smile.

  "Did you see her!" Matt half-shouted, even though Sarah had obviously been at his side the whole time. He wanted to scoop her up and spin her around while shrieking with excitement, but she was carrying an important, 250 year old framed document, so he only flailed his hands and stamped his feet again.

  "She was amazing!" Sarah howled back. "She can't hear us from here, can she? Oh my gosh, that was the most exciting thing that's ever—she's immortal, Matt! She knew my great-great-grandmother! That was—she was—oh my God! And Wallace Evans really has been around forever too? What the heck! I thought shifters weren't immortal!"

  "We're not!" Matt danced around her again, not caring that he probably looked ridiculous. Sarah didn't seem to think he did, anyway, and nobody else mattered. "I mean, we're really usually not. I don't know what she meant, that some of us are chosen to keep going, but...wow, Sarah. Wow, the stories she could tell...."

  "I wonder if she would," Sarah said more softly. "After that Brigadoon reference, I wouldn't be surprised if she's just not there next time we go looking. Like she could just go poof and disappear for fifty years or something."

  "I'm sure if she doesn't want to be found, she doesn't get found," Matt said a little more seriously. "Who can tell one fox from another, after all?"

  "I wonder if that's how she stole this back," Sarah said, lifting the framed charter a little. "Slipped in as a fox. Although I don't know how a fox could carry it anywhere. I wonder who took it in the first place."

  "I don't know." Matthew beamed at Sarah. "Do you want to find out?"

  "I'd love to, but—" Sarah hesitated suddenly. "But only if it won't cause trouble for Virtue's shifters. She said whomever it was doesn't dare cross her now, and that suggests it might be trouble."

  "Well, if you decide to pursue it, tell me how I can help."

  Sarah's smile softened and she stepped forward to give him an awkward kiss over the charter she carried. "That may be the sexiest thing any man has ever said since the dawn of time."

  "Really? I could say it again," Matthew offered hopefully. "'What can I do to help?' 'I'd like to help.' Um...."

  Sarah laughed and kissed him again. "Well, right now you could carry this. It's not heavy, but it's awkward and your arms are longer than mine." She handed him the charter, which he took like it was spun glass.

  "This isn't quite holy grail territory for an archivist, but it's pretty good," he told her. "I'll be careful."

  "I know."

  It only took them a few more minutes to escape the woods, although they came onto the road about a quarter of a mile away from Sarah's truck. Matt, faintly annoyed at himself, said, "Hnh. I should have sniffed out our trail better than that."

  "I'm sure you would have if I hadn't made you carry that," Sarah said in a conciliatory tone. "I thwarted your shifting abilities, that's all. Next time I'll have a harness so you can be a bear and do the heavy lifting."

  Matthew eyed her. "Thaaaanks."

  Sarah's laughter was the warmest, most wonderful sound he could imagine. "You're welcome. Any time." She laughed again, clearly pleased with herself, and strode ahead to the truck. Matthew trailed behind, more than happy to enjoy the view.

  He felt strangely as if his life was coming together in a way that he'd never imagined possible. That didn't make any sense, because he was leaving Virtue so soon, but he felt it anyway. Felt it strongly, as if it was a truth settling into his bones.

  It seemed, somehow, that meeting Hazel had helped cement the feeling. Maybe it was simply that she was extraordinary even in the context of shapeshifters, but Matthew thought it was somehow more than that. It was as if her very presence told him something about Virtue. Something he'd been waiting for, maybe, but didn't yet know how to put into words.

  He wished, very deeply, that his grandparents were still alive. He thought they might be able to help him find words for what he was feeling, or perhaps even recognize it as something they'd experienced themselves.

  His bear muttered, Home, and Matthew knew that was hard to argue with. In fact, he didn't want to argue with it anymore, really. He wasn't sure how it could work out, but it was getting easier and easier to accept that Sarah Ekstrom was the woman he'd always dreamed of, and maybe even that Virtue was the place he'd always dreamed of being. Even if it didn't look at all like the town he thought he'd dreamed of.

  "Come on, slowpoke!" Sarah yelled from ahead of him. "I want to get this thing to Judge Owens tonight so she can do her magic legal stuff in the morning!"

  Matt yelled, "Coming!" but didn't really hurry it up, because it would be a shame to trip and destroy the charter now. Still, he caught up within a minute and they put the framed document on the bench seat between them, Matthew holding it carefully in place.

  "Who do you think it was?" Sarah asked as they drove back to town. "The people who didn't have Virtue's best interests at heart?"

  "It had to be someone who knew about the shifters," Matthew said, although not with as much confidence as he would have liked. "The obvious answer seems like it would be one or more of the old families, but why would they work against Virtue?"

  "I don't know. And why would they not dare work against Hazel, although, in all fairness, now that I know she's out there I also wouldn't dare work against her. Maybe she put the fear of herself in them a couple generations ago."

  "Something could have changed since then," Matthew suggested. "Scary stories about the old woman in the woods might lose their power after seven
ty years. And if you didn't even know she was here, maybe other people don't either?"

  "I didn't know there were shifters, either, though," Sarah said in the tone of someone who wasn't rejecting his idea, just thinking about its implications. "And Jake's parents did know about her, so I'm guessing the Virtue shifters all do. Know what we can do, though? After we've dropped this off to Judge Owens, we could look into the background of the Upstate Resorts company. Maybe there's a link to somebody here."

  "Do you know how to do that?"

  "Not at all, but they do it all the time in TV shows, so how hard can it be?" Sarah grinned at him.

  "They zoom in on bad pictures and are able to resolve them into perfect readability, too," Matt said dryly. "It doesn't work that way in real life."

  "Be cool if it did, though, wouldn't it?"

  "Very." It took another few minutes to drive to Judge Owens' house, a nice colonial on a big lot a few blocks away from the courthouse. Sarah parked in the driveway and bounced up to the door, knocking to see if anybody was home before Matt got out with the framed charter.

  Judge Owens, who looked very mother-like and sensible at home instead of being small but rather imposing in the sheriff's office, welcomed them with an avid, interested gaze. Her daughter Robin, whom Matt had seen at the play a few nights earlier, bounded in to see what they'd brought, then hunched on the arm of the couch like a gargoyle as they all inspected the charter.

  "This is perfect," the judge said in obvious satisfaction. "I don't know how you found it, but it's what we need. It lays out—" Her finger danced above the painstakingly written text. "See, it lays out the leaseholds on the lands around Virtue. Technically, the township still owns all of this land—"

  "Wait, what?" Sarah leaned in, squinting curiously. Matthew leaned close to her, more interested in breathing in her scent than the paperwork, although that was kind of interesting, too.

  "The charter says Virtue maintains its legal standing as long as the town continues to own all the land surveyed for the charter. All the houses and farms and parkland within Virtue's borders are owned by the town."

 

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