Then there was Clint, the hot local horror writer. He got under her skin in a big way, but he wasn’t what she was looking for in the romance department. Not at all. So why did he make her so damned antsy? No man who purposely gave her nightmares should make her squirm in a not entirely unpleasant way.
And of course she couldn’t forget Bigfoot. The two sightings had been horrifying and fascinating, exciting and terrifying. She wanted a picture before she left.
But first things first.
Marnie sat down at the computer in the middle of the trio at the back desk. The chairs there were not at all comfortable, and she had to adjust the one she was in a couple of times to make it tolerable. Unlike yesterday, she planned to sit here for a while. Once she was settled in, she went to the internet and typed Alice Daniels into the search bar. It wasn’t an entirely uncommon name, so she had to sift through a large number of unrelated links. You’d think an article about a recent murder would come up near the top. It should at the very least make it to a spot on the first ten pages.
She found absolutely nothing. Not even a mention in the Eufaula newspaper. There wasn’t even an obituary, not that she could find.
Wasn’t the murder of a librarian bigger news than this? Marnie certainly thought it should be.
Sitting in the back corner, facing an uncooperative computer and a plain white wall, Marnie suddenly felt vulnerable. She’d never worried about being alone in this library or any other, but at this moment a warning tingle walked up her spine. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up. She would’ve heard the chime if someone had come into the library, and there had been none. Still, she was almost positive that someone was watching her.
Not a friendly someone, either. Marnie turned her head slowly, certain someone would be there. Someone watching. Someone lurking. People who didn’t intend to do harm didn’t lurk!
She swiveled in her chair; she scanned what she could see of the library, the shelves of books, the narrow aisles. She saw nothing, nothing at all, but the feeling that she was being watched didn’t abate. After a moment, she stood and walked away from the computer station, taking one aisle and then another in her return to the front desk, peering around corners and over the tops of books to catch a glimpse of another aisle. Just reading about the murder had her imagination working overtime. If someone had come in she would’ve heard the sound announcing the arrival of a visitor. She’d been near the rear door, which was locked up tight, and would’ve seen anyone coming in that way. The front door, complete with chime, was the only other way in.
She’d almost convinced herself that the feeling of being watched had been a weird reaction to lack of information about Alice Daniels’ murder when she reached the desk and saw the note there, sitting smack dab in the middle of her work area.
Written in purple marker on a plain white sheet of paper, the tall words filled the page.
GO HOME.
The front door definitely chimed when she pushed her way through it.
Clint drove his pickup instead of walking into town, since there wasn’t a moment to spare. According to Travis Benedict — Police Chief and older brother to Luke — there was no real emergency. Just a hysterical librarian. He considered a hysterical librarian a real emergency, especially if that librarian was Marnie.
The police station was small. Even when the town had been much healthier than it was these days, crime hadn’t been much of an issue. It was tough to get away with much of anything in a town filled with telepaths, witches, and the occasional wizard.
Travis came from a long line of telepaths. Luke’s ability was specific. He knew what you’d need before you did. The family gift seemed to have skipped Travis entirely. He was a Springer, had been born here, but he was one of the few who apparently possessed no supernatural abilities. Mike, the younger Benedict brother, had just a touch of the gift. Enough to be useful, but not so much that it affected his life negatively. He’d married a Non-Springer a couple years back. Amazingly enough, Cindy accepted this weird town and the weirder people in it. She loved her husband that much.
Travis was a good cop, but he still couldn’t explain what had happened to Alice. Unfortunately, neither could anyone else in town, which made this a whole new kind of mystery. When none of the town psychics could solve a crime, there was definitely dark magic at work.
Magic flowed through Mystic Springs, and through the blood of the Springers. The gifts they’d been given might be weak or powerful, useful or amusing. Some abilities were specific and limited, while others seemed to grow and change over time.
Dark magic had the ability to hide.
Clint parked across the street from the police station, in front of the ice cream shop. He saw the owner of the shop, Jordan, on the other side of the glass, and gave her a distracted wave before turning to cross the street. When he walked through the police station door, Marnie jumped from her chair and sprinted toward him. She threw herself at him, launching herself through the air. He caught her.
Her heart pounded. Her breath came heavy. She clung to him, fitting against him in a way that felt disturbingly right and natural. She held on as if her life depended on it. Instinctively Clint turned his head so he could smell her better. He inhaled, slowly and deeply, and her scent filled him. A primitive instinct screamed mine.
It was fast, it was unexpected, and yet he had the feeling they’d been hurtling toward this moment since she’d seen him on the road, on her way into town. She’d been coming to him all along, she just hadn’t realized it.
The possessive wave came and went quickly, but it was strong enough to freeze him in place for a long moment. What the hell had come over him? Marnie wasn’t his and never would be.
“There was no chime, I swear it,” she said breathlessly, without loosening her grip. “I was in the back, and I was busy, but I would’ve heard it. How did he get in? Why leave that… that note?”
Before Clint could ask “what note?” Travis lifted an evidence bag with a single, badly wrinkled sheet of paper in it. He could read the words from his position by the door.
Some asshole had disobeyed the council and was trying to scare Marnie out of town. Why?
Her body relaxed a little, and she gradually loosened her hold on him. He didn’t want to let her go, he wanted to keep her close a while longer, but he did loosen his grip and allow her to slide down, slowly but surely. With her feet firmly planted on the ground once again, she trembled as she explained what had happened. He wanted to hold her again, to comfort her. But he didn’t. He didn’t dare.
Travis tried to suggest that Marnie had been so engrossed in whatever had been on the computer that she’d simply missed the sound at the front entrance. Her answer was a censuring, librarian-like glare.
“Being on the computer didn’t deafen me, and I was hardly engrossed.”
Travis shrugged, a dismissive gesture Marnie did not take well.
“What were you doing on the computer, anyway?” Clint asked. “Ordering new books for the library? Looking for a new job…”
She looked down and away, then back to him. “I wanted to see what kind of news was out there about the murder of the previous librarian.”
“I told you…”
“Yes, I know, it was a drifter.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “I don’t quite buy that. There has to be more to the story. A drifter found his way into town and to Alice Daniels’ house? I drove the road to get here. It’s scary as hell. No one is going to drift into Mystic Springs, all the way through town, to a particular house.”
Travis’s face remained expressionless as he said, “Obviously he wasn’t in his right mind.”
For a long moment, Marnie stood there without speaking. Then she turned slowly, presenting her back to the chief and looking up at Clint. “Have you ever seen those scary movies where the characters make completely illogical decisions? They continue on long after any reasonable person would’ve gotten out. They should get out before things get completely h
airy, it’s only logical, but they never do.”
Hairy. Interesting word choice…
He tried to present a logical argument. “You’re talking about movies. Fiction. There would be no story if…”
Marnie ignored him and pointed a finger at her chest, poking herself squarely between two very fine breasts. “I am a reasonable person. If I hear a noise in the basement, I don’t go into the basement. If a librarian is murdered and then I get a creepy note ordering me to get out, I’m going to get out.”
She brushed past him, heading for the door.
He should let her go. Luke said the town needed her, and so did Susan, but there were other normals out there who could be brought in for the new blood the town so desperately needed. It didn’t have to be her.
It didn’t have to be her.
But he remembered the way she smelled, the way his body hummed when she was near, the way she sometimes glowed, for him and him alone. He also remembered his promise to himself that if anyone was going to run Marnie out of town, it was going to be him.
Before he spun on his heel, Travis said, “Let her go.”
Maybe the police chief had a touch of the Benedict gift after all.
Chapter 8
Marnie walked down the sidewalk with purpose, eyes focused straight ahead. She didn’t look at window displays, and she barely checked for oncoming cars when she crossed side streets. She could spend a couple of weeks, maybe a month, max, with her dad and stepmom number four. Stepmom wouldn’t be happy, but her brother had no room, and her mom… well, her mom lived too far away and they hadn’t had any kind of a close relationship for years.
That left her dad. She wouldn’t have to live there for an extended period of time, just long enough to find another job. There were other jobs available, many of them, and she did have some savings. Not enough to throw away a perfectly good position at a great library, but still, she was smart, she was capable…
She was scared.
Marnie realized Clint was behind her long before he spoke. She felt him, as surely as if he’d placed a hand on her shoulder or at the small of her back. He had a presence; he disturbed the molecules in the air. At least, he disturbed the molecules in the air that surrounded her. She was always, always, aware of him.
Another reason to leave town ASAP.
“It was a harmless prank, I’m sure,” he said as he drew up beside her.
She snorted.
“You’re not going to let one note scare you out of town, are you?” His tone was almost teasing, but she was in no mood for a light-hearted jest.
“You bet your ass I am.”
“Come on…”
She crossed the street and angled toward the library. At the door, she stopped.
Crap. In a horror movie she’d be the first to go! “I didn’t lock the door,” she whispered. “I ran out with that note clutched in my hand and headed straight for the police station. I didn’t think about fingerprints or DNA on the paper, and I didn’t lock the damn door.” She turned her head and looked up at Clint. “I’m an idiot.”
Anyone could be in there. Drifters. Note-writers. Librarian murderers.
Clint stepped past her and opened the door. “I’ll take a look around.”
He remained calm as he walked into the library. The door chimed, as it should. Naturally. Why hadn’t it made that sound when the intruder had come in? The chime might be faulty. Even though she’d denied the possibility at the police station, she might’ve been so engrossed in her research that she’d simply not heard it. Somehow she didn’t think either of those things were true.
She followed Clint, stopping just past the door to watch him search the main room of the library, then staying close as he moved further into the building. He was thorough, walking to the back of the room, checking to make sure the back door was locked, searching both bathrooms. Now and then he disappeared from her view for a few seconds, but never for long. A part of her stayed on edge, as she waited for someone, or something, to jump out of nowhere and surprise them both. Goodness knows there were plenty of places to hide.
Clint searched them all. After a while she relaxed, as he proved to her that no one was lurking around the next corner.
He stopped at the end of the staircase that led to the storeroom/break room and pointed up, as he lifted his eyebrows in question.
“I never lock that door,” she said. Why on earth would she?
Clint walked up the stairs, and she followed. Was it wrong that she was distracted, again, by the way his butt filled those jeans? Of course it was wrong, and still, how could she not be? He had really good arms, too, muscled and tanned and, as she had initially judged, lumberjacky.
He opened the door and stepped inside. The room was small. It didn’t take long for him to check the closets and then step into the bathroom for a look. There were literally no other places to hide.
“All well,” he said as he exited the bathroom.
Marnie breathed a sigh of relief. She still intended to leave Mystic Springs soon, very soon, but at least she’d be able to sleep tonight. Maybe. Tomorrow she’d be gone. Normally she’d feel obligated to give two weeks’ notice, but since no one came into the library, what difference did it make?
All she could do was nod at Clint, accepting his assurances.
Instead of passing her and exiting the room he walked directly to her. He stopped when he was, oh, maybe an inch or so away. She had always been aware of him, but so close, so wonderfully and terrifyingly close, it was as if she tingled from head to toe.
He dipped his head, and she looked up. She couldn’t breathe. Her heart pounded so hard she was sure he could hear it. How could he not? A wise woman would back away. One step. Maybe two. She was apparently not so wise, not where Clint was concerned.
He looked into her eyes and whispered, “Don’t leave. Give us a chance.”
Us? Us as in the town, or us as in… us?
Was there an us?
She saw the kiss coming. Clint moved slowly, bringing his mouth toward hers. Now, while she was terrified? Did he think a kiss would calm her?
That was unlikely. Nothing about Clint soothed her. A simple look had the power to agitate her to the bone. A kiss? No, it would not calm her.
Marnie didn’t move away, even though Clint was moving so slowly she had plenty of time to do so. She felt his body heat and inhaled his scent, which was clean and grassy and real. He was tall, really tall, but that didn’t seem to matter as he leaned down and closer. Closer. Oh my God, he was so close.
They could make it work. She had never wanted anything as badly as she wanted him to kiss her. Her eyes closed and her lips parted a half second before his arrived.
It was an easy kiss, and definitely not her first. And yet, it was unlike any other she had ever experienced. She felt that kiss through her entire body. Two seconds in, she knew that if Clint asked her to sleep with him she wouldn’t even hesitate, even though in horror movies sex was a sure step toward violent death. She lifted her right hand and grabbed the front of his shirt. One of his very fine arms wrapped around her and tightened, just a little. In his arms she was safe, warm, and incredibly turned on. She didn’t want the kiss to end.
She couldn’t kiss him long enough, deep enough. He growled a little. A soft sound of what had to be something akin to desperation formed in her throat and then escaped. Hadn’t she said time and again that he wasn’t her type? Her body did not agree.
The kiss ended, as it had to, but they didn’t move apart. She didn’t release his shirt, and he didn’t drop his arm.
“Are you trying to convince me to stay?”
“What if I am?” His voice was wonderfully husky; his blue eyes were hooded. A lock of hair had fallen over his forehead, and she itched to push it back.
“I can’t be so shallow.”
“Why not?”
Why not, indeed? She lifted her hand to right the lock of hair that had caught her attention, but never got to scratch that par
ticular itch.
The door to the storeroom stood open, so she clearly heard the door chime. She jumped back, her heart pounded — and not in a pleasant way.
So much for magic…
Clint walked down the stairs ahead of Marnie, in case someone was attempting to leave another nasty note. Or something worse. He wasn’t entirely surprised to see Susan standing by the front desk. When she saw him her concerned expression was transformed, and she smiled.
She looked far too amused.
“I heard about the excitement and decided to check on you,” she said, looking past him to Marnie.
“News travels fast,” he said.
“Travis called me,” Susan responded. “He was concerned.”
“He didn’t seem very concerned while I was there,” Marnie complained, almost but not quite beneath her breath.
“Oh, dear.” Susan walked past him to take Marnie’s hand. “Don’t be fooled by the casual air of our chief. That’s just Travis’s way.” She tsked. “I can tell you’re upset. Your face is still flushed, and…” She stopped abruptly, looked at Marnie a moment longer, and then turned her head to study Clint for a long moment before returning her attention to Marnie. There were few secrets in a town like this one. “In any case, please be assured that the Mystic Springs Police Force takes your case very seriously and will find the culprit.”
The Mystic Springs Police Force sounded impressive, unless you knew that it consisted of Chief Travis Benedict, and Travis alone.
A few minutes ago Marnie had been intent on leaving. Not today, it was too late for her to get packed and arrange for a place to go, but by morning…
Was she about to quit? He hadn’t kissed her in an attempt to get her to stay, but if it did the trick he would not complain.
He’d had sexual relationships after his divorce, but none had ever felt permanent. Women came and went. They had fun and in the end either he or she decided it was time to move on. He didn’t blame those who had been the ones to break off the relationship. He held back so much of himself, knowing he could never be totally honest, knowing there could never be anything more than sex. He could not, would not share the truth about himself with a Non-Springer. And if he didn’t share the truth of what he was, how could he have a relationship that went any further than sex?
Bigfoot and the Librarian Page 8