Bigfoot and the Librarian

by Linda Winstead Jones

“You wouldn’t understand,” Elaine said in a condescending tone.

  “Try me.”

  A man who appeared to be north of eighty walked into the kitchen. After a moment Marnie realized that she’d seen him before, in Eve’s and on the front porch of the house next door. She’d waved. He’d ignored her, then retreated into his house, slamming the door behind him.

  Her grumpy neighbor was the one who wanted to burn this house down. With her in it.

  “We’re looking for something the previous resident of this house hid from us. It must be destroyed before the wrong people find it.”

  “What is it?”

  “A spell, I guess you might say. That’s not entirely correct but as a Non-Springer you’re not likely to understand the nuances of such a powerful magic.”

  Magic? Spell?

  Elaine continued, “The previous librarian concocted a formula to go along with a spell, and she was just about to put it into action when James here removed her from this world.” She cast a censuring glance at the man who stood behind her. “Prematurely, as we can’t be sure where she hid the formula, and it’s important that we confirm it’s been destroyed.” She looked around the kitchen she’d searched so thoroughly. “Alice loved this house. I do so hate to burn it, at least until we can be certain the spell is hidden here.”

  “Wait a minute,” Marnie said, squirming. Her brain was processing a lot of information at the moment, but one detail stood out. “This was the old librarian’s house? And she was murdered here?”

  James grinned. “Yep. We were having a nice talk right here in this kitchen. She figured out what was what and tried to run. I grabbed her iron skillet off the stove and chased her to the front of the house. Lucky for me, my friend here was standing in the doorway, so Alice ran into the front bedroom and tried to lock the door. She was too slow. I bashed her across the head with her own iron skillet.” He leaned forward. “Three times, to be sure the job was done.”

  “That’s… you… I can’t…”

  The old man flicked a finger in Marnie’s direction, and her words were silenced. She tried to speak, she made the effort, but no words came out.

  “James, really,” Elaine said gently.

  “She was sputtering. I can’t stand that. She can still listen.”

  Marnie pursed her lips together and glared, as best she could, at the man who wanted to burn her house. He’d killed here before and would not hesitate to do so again. She tried to speak, but nothing happened. Reluctantly, James flicked his fingers and her words returned. “Why?” she asked. “What does this spell do?”

  “Alice and a few others wanted to remove this town from the map, to hide us from the rest of the world. It’s a world that doesn’t accept us, that doesn’t suit us, so I can see the appeal in the idea. If she had succeeded, and she almost did, no one would come in ever again, and no one would leave. Mystic Springs would become a prison, of sorts, though of course Alice didn’t see it that way. Why should we be punished for being who we are? Why should we be imprisoned here simply because we’re different?”

  “That doesn’t seem fair at all,” Marnie said. See? I’m on your side!

  “There is another spell in the works, one that would have the opposite effect,” Elaine explained. “One that would open Mystic Springs to the world in a whole new way, one that would allow the magic that encompasses Mystic Springs to spread, and grow, and find.”

  “Find what?”

  It was James who answered, this time. “Springers who have no idea what they are.”

  Too much information danced in Marnie’s head, information that was coming at her too fast. But at the same time, things were falling into place. Bigfoot. Clint. Eve and Ivy. The shadowman. Springers. Clint had used that phrase before, and earlier Elaine had called Marnie a Non-Springer.

  “Let me help you,” Marnie said in what she hoped was a calm voice. “I know this house like the back of my hand. I haven’t been here long, but…”

  Elaine patted Marnie’s hand gently as she rose from her seat. “All right, James,” she said with a sigh. “It’s likely not here, I agree. I’d like confirmation that the formula has been destroyed, but I might not have that luxury. Burn it all.”

  Dressed in borrowed clothes that were a bit too large for his trim frame, Lovell devoured two ham and cheese sandwiches and drank a big glass of milk. As he did, Clint explained to the man what he was. A shifter. Bigfoot. Dyn Gwallt.

  Lovell was full of questions. “Does the change have anything to do with the moon?”

  “No.”

  “Are all Sasquatches shifters, like us?”

  “No. At least, not to my knowledge.”

  “Why did this happen now?”

  That called for a more extensive explanation. Mystic Springs. A genetic component. Springers and Non-Springers. Clint explained as succinctly as he could.

  “Did I inherit this from my mother or my father?” Lovell asked.

  “I don’t know. We’ll have to do some research.”

  Lovell’s ancestors might’ve left Mystic Springs a hundred years ago, or more. Then again, it might’ve been more like twenty. The surname wasn’t a familiar one to Clint, but maybe some of the old timers would recognize it. A trip to the EGG was in order. Those old timers would be a lot of help.

  Lovell began to ask questions Clint wasn’t ready to answer. It was a lot to take in, in a short period of time, but Clint didn’t want to be the one to guide the new Dyn Gwallt along, teach him what to expect, how to handle this new part of himself.

  Thankfully, he was saved by his cell phone. He didn’t recognize the number, but he answered anyway. A young, shrill voice screamed into the phone. “The librarian is in trouble! Save her!”

  Chapter 19

  Her house was on fire.

  Marnie struggled against the scarf that bound her to the chair. It was tied too tightly and cut into her wrists as she wiggled and pulled, but she continued to try. Fire licked the walls, but had not yet reached her. Still, she felt the warmth.

  She tried to scream but could not, thanks to her grumpy neighbor who was apparently a witch, or a warlock, or a wizard. A Springer, that’s what he was.

  Moments earlier the old man had flicked his fingers at an outlet in the dining room and had cackled at the resulting spark. Not that anyone would bother to look too closely, but at a quick glance she imagined it would look like an electrical short had started the fire.

  Marnie continued to wriggle and pull at the scarf. There. Had it loosened a little? Just a little? Maybe, but not enough. Again, she tried to scream at her neighbor, but he had effectively silenced her.

  Elaine tsked at Marnie’s struggles, then delved into the pocket of her oversized pink dress to fetch a small vial. Marnie pursed her lips, figuring whatever was in that vial wasn’t going to help her escape her burning house. Just the opposite. The old woman caught Marnie’s head in a surprisingly effective headlock, pried her lips apart, and placed a single drop of a bitter liquid onto her tongue. The effects were quick. Within two seconds she could no longer struggle, no longer make even the weakest attempt to free herself. Her head fell to the table.

  James said, “I guess there’s just one place left to check. Where else would Alice have hidden her precious formula, if not here? She did love that library. I can get us in.” He looked down at Marnie and grinned, revealing yellowed, crooked teeth. No wonder he rarely smiled! “I’ve done it before.”

  Elaine collected her basket and what was left in it, removing the evidence that she’d been here. Marnie watched the two old people who had killed her head for the back door. She didn’t think it was her imagination that for a moment, just a moment, James looked like the shadowman she’d seen in her dining room. He’d been searching for the formula then, she knew that now.

  He didn’t just walk through the kitchen door, he shimmered and a part of his shadowy body passed through the wall. Had he been in her library? Had he left that note, trying to scare her into leaving t
own so they could search this house top to bottom with no interference? No doubt about it. That creepy grin of his said it all.

  Clint had warned her about the senior citizens of Mystic Springs. She just hadn’t imagined that a couple of them would murder her.

  Witches. Bigfoot. God only knows what else! In normal circumstances she’d love to ponder the possibilities, but at the moment only one possibility was on her mind.

  Death. Hers.

  She never should’ve sent Clint away. He was special. The way she felt about him was special. Every moment they’d spent together had been… okay, she’d say it. Magical. Why had she suddenly become cautious now? Why had it seemed like a good idea to take things slow? Talk about bad timing.

  She never should’ve sent that email to Nelson Lovell. For a hundred reasons! Clint was in danger, thanks to her. Bigfoot, with the kind eyes, was in danger. Nelson had been an irritant in what would turn out to be her last days with Clint.

  Marnie stared at the window that looked out on her back yard. She loved that yard. It had been hers less than a week, but she loved it.

  And the library. She attempted to struggle against her bonds again. Was she able to move just a little bit more? Was she not quite so numb?

  The library, her library. That’s where James and Elaine were headed next, to search for a magical formula. Would they burn it, too? Would they set fire to that wonderful library and all those books? Oh, how it would burn.

  Her eyes burned. Her throat felt raw. The smoke was going to get her before the fire, she knew that. They’d find smoke in what was left of her lungs, and some half-assed Springer coroner would rule that her death had been natural. There was nothing natural about this. Was anything natural in Mystic Springs?

  She was getting lightheaded from the smoke, maybe from whatever Elaine had forced into her mouth to keep her helpless while her house, and she, burned. Surely that was why she saw something hairy at the window.

  Marnie blinked to clear her vision. No, that was not an illusion. It was her Bigfoot, all right.

  The back door burst open. The creature that had frightened her as she’d driven into town scooped her up — chair and all — and carried her onto the rear porch and through an opening where the screen door had once been. That door had been ripped from the hinges. Once they were in the yard, cool, smoke-free air hit her face and her lungs. Nothing had ever felt so good. Bigfoot carried her deeper into the back yard, away from the house, away from the fire. Marnie heard sirens in the distance. Whoever was coming would’ve arrived much too late to save her, but she didn’t need firemen. She had him.

  Bigfoot knelt down and placed her gently on the grass. He broke the back slats of the wooden chair to free her. She imagined with those hands, untying the knot in the scarf would’ve been impossible. The scarf fell away, and without hesitation she reached up, her hand instinctively going to his face.

  All her life, she’d been a big ol’ overthinker. Every decision, every event, every person who’d been a part of that life had been on the receiving end of her analysis. At this moment, she didn’t want to think at all.

  Bigfoot should not exist. Neither should witches, but she didn’t want to think about them right now. The creature — beast, animal, kind being — who held her had saved her. Twice.

  “Thank you,” she whispered, her voice raspy. “I don’t understand any of this. It feels like a dream or a fantasy or a nightmare, but… thank you.”

  The creature stroked her cheek with one warm, hairy finger. The touch didn’t scare her, it was a comfort. He growled, but it wasn’t a threatening sound. It was sweet, and oddly familiar, and…

  Marnie held her breath as she looked into Bigfoot’s amazingly human blue eyes. She knew those eyes. She had looked into them before. And dammit, she knew that growl.

  “Clint?”

  She never would’ve thought a creature like this one could have such an expressive face, but there it was, clear for anyone to see. Surprise. Horror. Fear. Did he think she still found him grotesque? That she was horrified by him in any way? Everything in her ached, but she managed a smile as her fingers caressed a very hairy cheek. “Thank you,” she whispered.

  He gave what could only be called a Bigfoot harrumph, as if he was confused by her response.

  “We really need to talk. Later.” Marnie jumped up — as best she could, since she still hurt all over and jumping wasn’t easy — and ran around the house in order to meet the firetruck that was headed her way. The house could not be saved, it was too far gone, but maybe it wasn’t too late for the library.

  Everything she owned could burn, but that library, her library…

  Janie Holbrook stood in her front yard, cell phone in hand. She brought a hand to her chest and smiled when she saw Marnie. Marnie waved briefly, but kept her attention on the fire truck. Janie must’ve called the fire department.

  At least one of the neighbors didn’t want her dead.

  The Mystic Springs Fire Department was all volunteer, a fact that was indicated on the side of the red truck that pulled to the curb. That was no surprise, given the size of the town. The four firemen were a mixed bag in age and body type. As they climbed down from the firetruck they looked at Marnie oddly. Two of them visibly hesitated. And then it hit her, why they might look at her this way. She was an outsider, a Non-Springer. She knew what that meant now.

  “If one of y’all can wave a hand and put the fire out, don’t hesitate on my account. At this point nothing will surprise me.” A younger man with very short hair and a distinct Native American appearance ran toward the porch, hands outstretched. She really wanted to watch him work, but at the moment had more important things on her mind. She turned her attention to the oldest man in the crew. He was short, chunky, and had long white hair. She would not be surprised to find out he was an elf, or a troll. Well she would, but that was beside the point. He seemed to be the man in charge.

  Marnie called on her most stern librarian voice. “My neighbor James and the psycho bitch who owns the B&B are at the library searching for something. No time to explain what, but if they don’t find what they’re looking for they’re going to burn my library.” She lifted her chin and glared at the heavy-set man with the white hair and beard. Yeah, she’d guess troll. She didn’t care. “Save it.” Her heart skipped a beat. “Please.”

  The pair who had incapacitated her and attempted to kill her scared the shit out of her. If she had a lick of sense, she’d stay here and let the fire department do their job. Maybe they’d radio their poor excuse for law enforcement for assistance.

  But she could not stand here and wait. She’d played it safe all her life, and it was time for that to end.

  Marnie kicked off her shoes and ran.

  Chapter 20

  In the fading light of a summer sunset Clint ran toward the library, after hearing Marnie tell Leon about the threat to the library. He loved that library; he’d spent many, many hours in it, as a child and then as an adult. He’d researched each of his books there, had found it a place of peace when his life seemed to be falling apart.

  But his love for the place wasn’t what spurred him on.

  If there was no library they didn’t need a librarian, and he wasn’t ready to watch Marnie drive away from Mystic Springs.

  He had no need to hide himself from the Springers in town; most of them had seen him in his Dyn Gwallt form at least once, but they didn’t see him this way often. There was no joy in running down the sidewalk or the asphalt. The forest was his home; the trees were his shelter. He loved the smell of grass and the river and the flowering bushes that created the finest perfumes.

  Clint was determined to get to the library before Marnie. She was just going to get herself into more trouble, if she confronted the Springers who had tried to kill her. He cut through a couple of backyards, one well cared for and the other overgrown, and then approached the downtown sidewalk along the south side of the library.

  James and Elaine were already in
side, looking around, tossing books onto the floor. He heard them, as well as smelled them, long before he pushed his way through the front door. He had to dip down to keep from banging his head into the top of the door frame.

  As he pushed his way in, the chime above the door sounded. The gentle noise was almost lost in the sounds of approaching sirens, and the curses of the two elderly Springers who were desperate to find what Alice had hidden.

  “There’s no time!” Elaine shouted as Clint ran toward her. James, from another aisle, tossed a book aside and cursed aloud. All Clint could do was grunt.

  Elaine ran for the exit. James started to follow her, but hesitated. The old man cursed again, and flicked his fingers at a pile of books his partner had rifled through and then carelessly discarded. There was a spark, a flame, and all too quickly a bonfire in the middle of the aisle.

  “You should be helping us, not getting in the way,” James said, and then he vanished, skirting around the end of one aisle, running as fast as his spindly legs would carry him. For an instant, he was the shadowman, and then he was solid again.

  Clint had a choice. Chase James or put out the fire.

  The flames grew quickly, flickering higher and higher. The fire truck siren grabbed his attention. It sounded closer and closer. They’d be here soon.

  Clint turned and ran, watching as James burst through the front door not far behind Elaine.

  James – who was momentarily the shadowman again – exited the smoky library by moving through the glass door. Clint was right behind him, but had to wrestle with the door handle for a frustrating moment. His hands were too big, too clumsy. He finally managed to grasp that handle and pull the door open.

  Volunteer firemen on the street jumped off the truck. Clint gestured into the library, grunted, and ran after James.

  It was no contest. Four long strides, and he had the old man in his grasp. He spun around with James neatly trapped in his arms and saw, down the sidewalk a short way, in front of the antique store, a barefoot Marnie sitting almost calmly on top of a prone Elaine, who still had a bit of fight in her. The seemingly harmless owner of the B&B tried to throw off the woman who was holding her down, but Marnie didn’t budge.