The Girl With Nine Lives, The Girl Who Bit Back, The Girl With Ten Claws 3 Book Boxset (The Adventures of Benedict and Blackwell Series)

by E. Earle

  My skin prickled feeling the heat radiating from him from how close he was. I forced myself to not look away from his eyes, not wanting to show a sign of weakness. “I don’t need looking after,” I growled.

  He stared at me, and then I think it just dawned on him on what he just said to me. He stepped back and then straightened himself up. He picked up his drink, downed it and then walked away.

  I stared up at the ceiling as the sound of his footsteps drowned away and then finally released a shuddering breath.

  “It’s all go, isn’t it?” Ben meowed.

  “You’re telling me.”

  Me and Ben stayed up for the rest of the night drinking and rubbing catnip into our faces (hey I was curious to see what it would be like) until I realised that Jack, after two hours probably wasn’t coming back from the toilet.

  I put on some Jimmy Buffet and danced around the bar with Ben in my arms. He meowed along as I sang and then sense probably told me that allowing my guests to sleep in peace was probably a good thing.

  “Come on, Ben,” I mumbled, switching off the juke box. “We’d better get ready for tomorrow.”

  The next morning I got up early, not by my own choice but because Jack came into my room.

  “Ellena,” he hissed at me as I stuck my fingers up at him to leave me alone. “You really need to come downstairs.”

  “Why?” I groaned.

  Jack hesitated and I finally pulled my duvet away from my face to see he looked depressed. “Old Marley’s lawyer is here,” he said and then paused. “Marley died last night.”

  I was up within seconds, not caring if I gave Jack a flash of my bright pink pants. I pulled on the first thing I could find and ran down the stairs. Brynn was already there making coffees for us all looking slightly worse for wear.

  Christopher was impeccably dressed as always, this time wearing a plain shiny navy suit with a lilac silk tie and matching handkerchief in his pocket. He wore thick stylish black eyeglasses today, but the eyes behind them were serious.

  “I’m sorry to inform you of the passing of Mr Marley,” he said, his voice once again that unexpected high pitched quality.

  To my dismay, I suddenly burst into tears. Arms wrapped around me and I was swallowed by warmth and the scent of the sea. “But we got his stuff back!” I sobbed into Brynn’s chest.

  He stroked my hair awkwardly and rubbed my back, making soothing noises. “Was it painless?” he asked after a slight pause.

  For a few more seconds nothing was said, and then I realised that Christopher was either nodding or shaking his head. I peeked up out of Brynn’s tanned arms and saw Old Marley’s lawyer was nodding.

  “In his sleep,” he said looking down at the ground in respect. “They found a dirty magazine under his bed.” His shoulders shook in a half contained chuckle. “Filthy old man.”

  For some reason, that made me laugh and cry the more. Despite our earlier argument, I held onto Brynn as if he was my lifeline, drawing on him the strength that I lacked. I wasn’t sure why I was so affected- I hadn’t known Marley long, I hadn’t been a resident here long- hell, I hadn’t even been to the museum when it was up and running, yet alone see Marley when he was in his prime.

  Ben’s long mournful yowl shook through my body as I realised then it was simply ok to mourn the loss of a life. Marley was nothing like my Granddad, but it felt as though that maybe I could do some good here- maybe I could bring some relief and happiness to someone’s life to make up for… for what?

  It hit into my chest then as painful as that gunshot. What was I trying to make up for?

  For not being there when my Granddad died, I realised. For not being there every single moment of the day to help him. To tell him the things that I wanted. I would never have missed those visiting hours when I was ill. I would never have not gone round that one afternoon simply because I needed some time away from it all. I would have gone with my sister at twelve when she offered me that lift instead of staying round my friends. I would have been there.

  Been there.

  There.

  God, I’m sorry.

  Blackness waved through my sight again as Brynn held me up, his arms almost supporting all of my weight. “Don’t lose me,” I whispered through gritted teeth, fighting through the ink blots in my sight. “I won’t go!” I snarled. “I won’t, go!”

  My gunshot wound started to burn and my feet struggled to find purchase on the floor. Ben meowed loudly and my nails dug into Brynn’s shoulder. I looked up and saw his dark eyes willing me to stay there.

  “Come on Ellena,” he murmured. “Come on.”

  I blinked through the dancing lights and focused my vision on Ben, his unwavering constant figure in the world of grey that surrounded me. For some reason his coat was burning more brightly in my sight, and when I blinked away the last of the sickly blackness, he looked back to normal.

  Brynn’s hold still tight on me; I straightened up and flushed in embarrassment. “I’m sorry,” I mumbled.

  “Don’t worry about it,” Christopher said nonchalantly. “I used to have panic attacks all the time. A pain, aren’t they?”

  I blinked in surprise at his casualness about the situation and then realised he was doing it for my own benefit. I smiled at him gratefully and breathed out a sigh of relief when I could finally feel my knees again. “Yes,” I said, my hand going to my side. I looked back at my palm and for some reason was surprised not to see blood. Shaking my head, I and told myself to focus.

  “Sorry,” I mumbled again.

  “Here,” Brynn said, gently ushering me to a stool. Satisfied that I wasn’t going to fall over anywhere, he straightened and looked to Christopher, pointedly not apologising for my ‘near miss’. I don’t know why but it made me feel good.

  Christopher launched right into it. I was then informed that if I thought I could shirk out of inheriting the museum, I was well and truly mistaken. The land had been bought and paid for, and the only thing that required money was the renovation of the place, marketing and promotion, plus all of the re-licensing. Apparently we had signed something to say that we would not sell to his brother or any of his colleagues, acquaintances or other family and the business would be strictly between us as a partnership. “Chris? Can you wait in telling Marley’s brother about the museum until a certain time today?”

  Christopher smiled. “Of course.”

  “Good.”

  Christopher left and told us he would contact us about funeral arrangements. Apparently Marley had been a terribly organised man and had sorted even that out.

  It made me want to cry even more, but I was so dehydrated at that point I didn’t even risk at losing another tear. I looked at my watch.

  “Ok,” I sniffed, throwing the towel from George Eliot’s desk and turned to Jack and Brynn. “You two bugger off, we’ve got things to do.” They had another surf lesson that morning, and I wondered whether Model-Girl would be involved or not.

  I waited an hour, but I knew he would come.

  Patrick walked in with his two cronies, furious energy bouncing off them onto every surface in the room. Ben’s fur prickled as soon as the door opened and I stroked him to calm him down.

  “Oh hi,” I said looking up at the three of them casually. “What can I do for you, Patrick? May I mention, once again, that your two employees are barred?”

  “My brother died this morning,” Patrick said almost gleefully. “I know you came onto my property last night and took the artefacts. I have an auction due this Saturday- that property is now rightfully mine!”

  I looked up. Patrick’s face was flushed. I searched for any sign of mourning and found none. Shrugging, I carried on putting away glasses. “Don’t think so.”

  Patrick laughed at me and pulled out a cigarette from his coat pocket. It was meant to infuriate me as he lit it, but I ignored it.

  “Apparently my garage is empty,” Patrick said with false pleasantness as he outstretched his arms in a show of ‘you-can-tr
ust-me’. “My boys came this morning to shift the stock to find that it had gone. Now that’s a strange coincidence isn’t it?”

  I shrugged. “What makes you think I had anything to do with it?”

  “I have CCTV, goddammit.”

  “Oh.”

  He smiled at my short lived discomfort and then scowled as I shrugged again. “I can have you arrested.”

  “So?” I sniffed, picked up a tea towel and throwing it over my shoulder. “You’re not the only person who knows people. I can write a letter to someone very important to help me on this. In fact…” I bent down behind the bar and lifted up George Eliot’s solitaire desk and a hammer. “Maybe I should write that letter right now?”

  Patrick Marley’s mouth worked open and closed, blustering and blubbering at the sight of the famous author’s desk before him. He swung suddenly found to Thug #1 and Thug #2. “I told you to put that somewhere safe!”

  Thug #2 shifted in fear. “We did, sir,” he said, his voice losing its intimidating edge and took on more of a whining school boy’s. “We put it where you usually put the rest of the stuff…”

  “Not this!” Patrick howled.

  “Don’t worry, boss,” Boris said smugly, crossing his hands. “There are other flammable items we can set alight here to teach her a lesson.”

  Becker’s face broke out in a grin as he mimicked the sound of an explosion. “Terrible thing fires,” he said, shaking his head.

  I held back a retort and kept that unmovable look of calm on my face. It seemed to disturb the men and they looked to each other as if I was nuts.

  “You know that CCTV technology you have is really amazing,” I said calmly. “I don’t have that. I just have a recording device on my phone. It usually gets me into trouble but it works in any case.” I pointed to my phone, tactfully placed on a shelf on the bar, pointing at Patrick and his crew.

  Patrick laughed. “That means nothing!” He was smiling at me, and my stomach turned at the sight of it. Ben hissed. “The museum is mine now!”

  “No it’s not!” I growled suddenly slamming my hands on the bar, ignoring the exploding pain that followed. “It’s mine and Brynn O Connells.” I looked down at my watch. “In fact, you should be getting a call… right…about… now.”

  Patrick’s phone started ringing, and we all stood about awkwardly waiting for him to answer it. He growled and pulled it out of his pocket in annoyance and confusion. “What is this?” he demanded.

  “Answer it and find out.”

  As he answered his phone and Christopher’s voice sang through on the other side, I was welcomed by the changing of colours on Patrick’s face, from red, to white, to scarlet, to yellow and then gray.

  He hung up, his face shaking. “How dare you!” he spat. “That place is rightfully mine!”

  I pointed up at the camera and tutted. “Now, now,” I said. “Best to calm down, isn’t it? Wouldn’t want you saying something and regretting it, now, would we?”

  I watched as Patrick’s eyes followed my hands as I picked up the hammer over George Eliot’s desk. His body lurched, as though wanting to snatch it away from me.

  “This is George Eliot’s desk,” I announced loudly, more for the camera’s benefit than my own. “Stolen by Patrick Marley and his Motley Crew of mongrels, intended to be resold through auction.”

  “I would never sell it!” Patrick snarled. “I intended to keep it!” He slapped a hand over his mouth, his eyes going wide in disbelief what he had just said. He swore and then looked to Boris and Becker. “Goddammit, get the desk!” he snarled.

  As the thugs lurched forward, I lifted the hammer above the desk. Patrick howled at them to stop and they obeyed like faithful dogs. I smiled as my hand didn’t shake above the pristine wood.

  “One more step and I will smash this into something you couldn’t even flog at a car boot!”

  Patrick motioned for them to step back and they did. “What do you want?”

  I stared at him for long seconds before I spoke. “I want you to leave this place alone, including your brother’s museum,” I said.

  “And why would I do that?” he sneered.

  “Else I will reveal this video to every police station that will listen, upload it to every blog, social networking site and YouTube channel available.” I took a breath, my tongue dry but lips restless to move. “I will give you George Eliot’s desk on the condition that you make sure no one from your party tries to obstruct us in rebuilding the museum.” There, I had said it. I saw the look of obsession flash in Patrick’s eyes and then swindle into calmness.

  “If I don’t agree?”

  I cocked my head to one side and wrinkled my nose uncaringly. “I’ll just upload it anyway, return the desk, have you arrested and you’ll probably be investigated for a whole load of other offences.” I smiled. “I hear there’s a load of bad things you’re into.” It was a lie, but the fear in his face was reward enough.

  “You would give me the desk?”

  I nodded, hating myself. “On a peace condition.”

  He swallowed, staring at the desk hungrily. “I’ve been after that desk for too long,” he murmured hungrily, probably too quiet for my camera to pick up, but I didn’t care. “I visited Nuneaton briefly after a two hour wait from my train and saw the exhibition of her life and personal possessions.” He looked up at me then. “You know, when I found out you were from the same place I actually got excited?” He looked up and down the length of me, his lip curling. “Your sort could never appreciate her works.”

  “I teach English, dumbass,” I snapped. “I thought you had Googled me, for God’s sake?”

  He looked to Boris and Becker and shifted his chin in indication for them to leave. He turned back to me as soon as they shut the door behind them. “Why wouldn’t you just return the desk to the museum?” he asked in reluctant curiosity.

  “Because I want to keep things sweet between us,” I said in mock friendliness. “If I didn’t have something to bend your arse over backwards, then I have a distinct feeling that you’d probably try and make my life a living hell.” The smile I gave him was sickly. “And I’d rather be the one in control, thank you. This way, we both get what we want, and I’m all up for mutual satisfaction.”

  “I could take that desk from you right now,” he growled, his lip curling at me.

  I raised the hammer with a bored look on my face that screamed, ‘try it.’

  A flash of alarm widened his eyes as he summed up whether I was bluffing or not. “I take that desk now, and we call this quits?”

  I nodded. “If you and yours ever cause harm or trouble, that video will be leaked everywhere and you will instantly be arrested.” I sighed dramatically then. “Think of your reputation! It would cause quite a scandal wouldn’t it? Those important business associates of yours will have nowhere to trade their stolen antiques… Still,” I added haphazardly waving the hammer in the air, “I’m sure there are plenty of other people willing to snap business from you.” I flashed him a brilliant smile.

  He lifted his chin, his eyes finally lying on the desk. “That desk is priceless!” he said through gritted teeth.

  “Then it’s worth the deal then, isn’t it?”

  His cold blue eyes fixed on mine for a full ten seconds before he finally smiled. “Fine,” he said, looking as though those words were anything but what he really wanted to say. “You’ve got some bite, Miss Blackwell.”

  “You’ll also be paying for the damage your louts did to my business.”

  His face twisted by the unexpected add on. Quickly recovering he gave me that professional whitened smile. “Fine.” His hands twitched hungry to lay them on George Eliot’s desk.

  I hated myself a little as I handed him it, the wood warm in my hands. It was something so precious and missed by my town, but I knew as soon as I allowed him to take it that it was a small sacrifice for this small group of people I had met.

  “I’ll be seeing you,” he said as he turned a
way.

  “No, you won’t.”

  The next week flew by. We saw no more of Patrick or his pair of idiots. Marley’s funeral came, and Ben was even invited. I had a bit of a joke by putting on a bow tie around his neck, which he wasn’t too impressed about, but the attention he got was soon compensation enough. The service was short but sweet, and surprisingly there was a huge turnout. Everyone I knew in this small place came to pay their respects, and those who I didn’t even recognise.

  People had caught wind that Brynn and I had inherited the museum. Soon an excited buzz arose about it rising out of the dust it had lay in for so long, and I wasn’t sure how to answer people’s questions about it.

  Words washed over me as I sweated in my black dress, uncomfortably picking at a loose thread as I stared out to sea.

  Things were coming together, everyone was telling me, but I still felt fractured inside. My hands were better and I could now pull a decent pint again- although Brynn and Jack might disagree.

  Barry hadn’t done much for me in my childhood- this shack had been his attempt at him protecting his own family. The wake was held at Craggys, and as I looked onto the building with all of its cracks and flaws, I felt proud of the place. We had done good. I had once again overcome something that had been thrown my way.

  I briefly thought of his wife and children and stopped myself before I wondered how they were coping. It wasn’t my place- would never be my place. I picked up Ben and breathed a sigh of relief as his purr resonated through my skin.

  “You spoke to Marley, didn’t you?” I murmured to him as people laughed behind us at one of Jack’s jokes.

  Ben looked up at me with his pale golden eyes and gave me a smug, ‘I can’t talk right now,” look. I tutted and scratched behind his ear. “Whatever you did, you made that old man happy.”

  I looked up and catch Brynn staring at me. He stood in a pristine white shirt and a thin black tie. Even Calloway would approve. He walked towards me and I brushed back a rogue tendril of hair behind my ear.

  “Are you ok?” he asked with a small smile on his lips.