“Nope,” the girl answered. “He just asked to see the books and then put them back on the cart when he was done.”
“Are they still on the cart?” I asked.
“They’re right over there,” she said, waving her hand towards a wheeled cart. “We haven’t reshelved them yet.”
I started to head over to the cart and felt a hand on my arm. I nearly jumped a foot.
“Sorry,” the girl said, looking abashed. “I didn’t want to shout, but I wondered if you still want these?”
She was holding up my list of books on spirit wards. “Oh yeah, sorry,” I said. “Could you bring them up to the third floor study area? I don’t think I can carry everything.”
“Sure,” she said. “We’re here to serve!”
Her cheerfulness was beginning to grate on my already frayed nerves, but I tried to smile since she was doing me a favor. “Thanks,” I said and turned to the cart. I was bombarded by the smell of burning brownies and prayed silently that she didn’t notice my hands shaking as I stacked the werewolf books and carried them up the stairs. Could that guy have been the werewolf murderer? Perhaps the crow was right to warn me after all.
*****
When Emma arrived I was still researching spirit wards, but kept the pile of werewolf books within sight. I was hoping Calvin or Simon might be able to sniff out some clues.
Literally.
I had texted Cal about an hour ago and he texted back that they would drive back to town and meet us at the library before closing time. I had been sneaking looks at my watch ever since.
“Girl, you look like hell,” Emma said, setting a tall soy latte on the table. “Here, drink this.”
I drank a huge gulp of creamy caffeine goodness and sighed. “I so needed this,” I said. “Thanks.”
“No problemo,” Emma said. “So what are you working on?”
“Actually big problemo,” I said. “Huge, epic even.”
Emma raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms. “You can’t leave me hanging like that,” she said. “There’s a law against it, I swear.”
“I’m allowed an exaggerated pause,” I said,
pausing
. “I think I came face to face with the killer. Actually it was more like face to door…or door to face.”
“Where?” Emma asked excitedly.
“Here, in front of the library,” I answered. “He nearly knocked me over at the entrance when I was on my way in.”
“The entrance I just walked through?” Emma asked nervously.
“Yeah, that’s the one,” I answered.
“Well that’s all kinds of creepy,” Emma said with a shudder.
Tell me about it
. “He was researching werewolf wards, like the items left at the murder scene,” I said. “I grabbed the books he was looking through and brought them up here. I sent Cal a message and he’s on his way here to, uh, take a look at them.”
“Well, if he needs to do his wolf thing first then I won’t touch them,” Emma said. “After Cal’s done though, we should really find out what’s in those books. It might help us find this guy.”
“Do you have room on your library card to check them out?” I asked.
“Are you kidding?” she asked. “Mine is totally maxed out. Is Simon coming with Cal?”
“Yeah, I think so,” I answered.
“Then we should make him check them out,” Emma said. “That is, if he even has a library card.”
To Emma that was the biggest insult ever. She worshipped this place. Books were her religion and the library her church.
“I’m sure Simon has a library card,” I said. “He’s not a total spawn of Satan. He just likes to pretend he is.”
“Talking about me again darlings?” Simon asked as he rounded the corner to our study area. “You can stop going through Simon withdrawal loves. I’m here now in the flesh.”
“I take that back,” I said, looking at Emma. “He really
is
the spawn of Satan.”
“There’s really only one way to find out,” Emma said. “Simon, do you have a library card?”
“I think it’s in my pocket,” Simon said, grinning at Emma. “Want to help me search for it?”
“Simon,” Calvin growled, walking toward us. “Enough!”
Simon pulled his wallet from his back pants pocket and, eyes downcast, slid his library card onto the table in front of Emma. He turned his back to Calvin and winked at Emma with a huge grin on his face.
Brat
.
The sly grin slipped from Simon’s face as he began sniffing at the air. Walking closer to the stack of books at the corner of the table, he exclaimed, “The illegitimate son of a…he’s been here. The man I smelled in the woods at the murder scene. He handled these books.”
Son of a dung beetle
. My hunch was right. The guy who nearly knocked me down the library steps was our murder suspect. A tiny voice inside my head wished I could have pulled off some hardcore ninja moves when I had my chance, but it was a very, very small voice. Mostly I felt afraid. I was afraid of the killer who lurked in our midst, for my friends and the safety of the pack, for myself, but most of all afraid for Calvin, the love of my life and the most likely target for a man obsessed with hunting werewolves.
Simon’s affirmation of the man’s presence at yesterday’s murder scene left us all a bit out of sorts. Calvin sat pensively staring at the offending stack of books; Emma turned an ashen shade of gray and opened the nearest book on spirit wards, escaping into her well-ordered world of research; and Simon paced like a caged animal. I looked down at my already chewed black fingernails and tried not to think about blood and brownies and the glassy eye of a wolf who could no longer see this world.
“When is the funeral?” I finally asked. “I should probably be there in case this new spirit really is Gavin.”
“It’s scheduled for the day after tomorrow,” Cal said. “You’re right. We should all try to attend. Maybe the killer will even make an appearance. Do you think you’d recognize him?”
“I don’t think so,” I said. “I really didn’t see his face, but the spirits might be able to give me something. It’s worth a try.”
Cal knew how much I cringed at the thought of funerals and cemeteries, where I might encounter more spirits of the dead, and gave me an encouraging smile. “Thanks,” he said. “I’ll be there with you the whole time.”
My knight in furry armor.
“Don’t thank me yet,” I said ruefully. “I still may run screaming from the funeral which would
not
be helpful. Too bad I can’t wear my safety pin shirt.”
“Why not?” Emma asked. “Shiny is the new black.”
“Says who, love?” Simon asked dubiously.
“Says me,” Emma hissed.
I was so not looking forward to this funeral and Simon and Emma’s arguing was only making my headache worse. The acrid smell of burning brownies wasn’t helping either.
“You two better start getting along if you’re going to pass as each other’s date for the funeral,” Cal said.
“What?” Simon and Emma asked in unison.
“You have got to be kidding me,” Emma added.
“Actually it makes a lot of sense,” I said. “We don’t want to arouse suspicion. Going as couples, rather than as a group, is the logical thing to do. Right Cal?”
“Right,” Cal said.
It would also mean I may even have a few minutes of peace and quiet for the drive over to the cemetery. Emma was shooting me daggers, but right now I was much more concerned about keeping my sanity. I wasn’t kidding about potentially freaking out at the funeral. In my world funeral homes, graveyards, cemeteries, and hospitals were the stuff of nightmares. There tends to be a concentration of spirit activity in these places and I had discovered it was best to avoid such areas.
Now I was planning on jumping from the frying pan right into the fire. Not my best plan ever, but what’s a girl to do? My friends were in danger and I was willing to take the risk if it meant I could save more lives. Heck, consider it a preemptive strike on the creation of more spirits. It was a logical, strategic plan of action, right?
Then why do I feel like I have enormous vampire bats fluttering around my stomach?
Chapter 6
Cal had ordered Simon to go with Emma and carry the stack of werewolf books to the van for her. He was still at the counter flirting with the ever smiling redhead as Calvin and I ducked out the front. Cal was carrying the books on spirit wards, but still managed to hold the door for me.
Always the gentleman.
The chill night air felt soothing on my face and I hoped I wasn’t getting a fever. The headaches were bad enough. I definitely didn’t need a cold to slow me down. I could smell wet leaves and wood smoke and realized the burning brownie smell had lessened. Perhaps my ghost was taking a nap? Did spirits sleep? If so, what did they dream about?
“Penny for your thoughts,” Cal said quietly. There was something about the empty rain dampened street that invited silence though his whispering may have been a side effect of too much library time.
“I was wondering if ghosts ever sleep,” I said with forced jocularity. My voice sounded harsh and thunderous and I mentally tuned myself down a notch or three. “If androids dream of electric sheep, does that mean ghosts dream of spectral livestock?”
“If I followed your logic, then I’d dream of chasing sheep rather than counting them,” Cal said.
He had a point.
“Which reminds me, I’m starving. Want to stop for a bite? Maybe I can find some lamb chops.”
“That’s baaaaaaad,” I joked.
Cal groaned and led the way to his truck. After depositing the books safely behind his seat he walked around to open the passenger door for me. I tossed my overburdened backpack onto the passenger floor and turned back to Cal. Looking up at him, his head a halo of golden light beneath the streetlight, I reached up and gave him a kiss. My angel may have teeth and claws, but he was an angel all the same.
*****
After picking up take-out Thai food, Cal drove me home. I was about to invite him inside when I noticed my parents’ cars were both in the driveway. I hadn’t realized how late it had become.
“See you at school tomorrow?” I asked.
“Most definitely,” Cal answered. “Need a ride?”
“Most definitely,” I said, leaning in for one last goodnight kiss.
When we finally came up for air, Cal jumped out and retrieved the books from behind his seat. I was feeling all dreamy and had forgotten all about them. He carried them to the front door and helped me get them inside before leaving.
“Goodnight Yuki,” Cal whispered. “Sweet dreams.”
I closed the door behind him and turned the lock. The house was dark and quiet so I tiptoed up the stairs to my room, juggling the books and my bag of take-out food, while trying not to bump into anything. I was largely unsuccessful, but my parents didn’t come out into the hall so I figured they were still asleep. I felt my way to the bed and when my shins hit the mattress I dumped the books onto the comforter. Walking back to flick on the light I listened again for my parents, but they didn’t stir. Perhaps they were dreaming of sheep?
My stomach growled out loud and I quietly clicked my door shut and brought the bag of food over to my desk. I pulled out fresh spring rolls and crispy tofu with peanut sauce and was suddenly ravenous. I couldn’t remember the last time I ate anything other than trail mix. Pictures of dead wolves and the smell of burning brownies had a tendency to make me lose my appetite.
Stomach appeased, I turned to the pile of books on my bed. One cover had a charcoal sketch of a brooding spirit gazing out from the cover. “Don’t look at me like that,” I muttered, deciding to read that one last. I picked a smaller book with Celtic knotwork and vines on the cover and set it on the nightstand. Lifting the rest to the floor, I plunked down on the bed and unlaced my boots. I leaned back against the headboard and settled in for a long night of reading.
*****
At some point in the night I must have drifted off to sleep because I now stood in an unfamiliar fog shrouded forest. The mist covered ground made walking treacherous. Roots grasped at my feet and ankles and cobwebs clung to my face and hair. What was this place?
I tried not to wonder what was hiding in the darkness. It wasn’t working. My mind conjured up images of nightmare creatures and I began to run. My logical mind screamed that running was a bad idea and would only attract the attention of lurking monsters, but my feet flew across the fog covered ground. I ran and ran until I tripped and fell face first into water.
Flailing in the water I awoke wrestling with my sheets and gasping for breath. I tried to remember any details from the dream which may have been important. I hadn’t been visited by any spirit guides. Maybe it had just been a regular nightmare brought on by stress. The feeling of terror clung to me though, and I reached for my notes on warding off evil spirits. Looks like I was going to have to go carve myself a turnip.
Seriously, don’t ask.
Giving up on sleep entirely I slid on my skelly slippers and crept downstairs to the kitchen. I looked through the pantry shelves and refrigerator drawers, but didn’t turn up any turnips. My sleep deprived brain seemed to be turning to bad puns for amusement.
Fun, fun, fun.
Glancing around the kitchen my gaze fell on a bowl of decorative gourds. Bingo.
The book I read on spirit wards claimed people would carve turnips or gourds with faces to confuse evil spirits. On Samhain they would light these curiously carved veggies with candles and either carry them or set them in their windows for protection.
I selected a few small gourds and began carving faces. When my mom padded into the kitchen an hour later I was putting on the finishing touches.
“You’re up early sweetie,” she said, stifling a yawn. “Big day at school?”
“Halloween art project,” I replied. “I kind of forgot about it until last minute. Hope you don’t mind I used some of your gourds,” I said gesturing to the nearly empty bowl. “I’ll buy some new ones today after school. I promise.”
“Oh, don’t worry,” she said, waving her hand in the air. “I’m just glad someone gets to enjoy them. We’re hardly ever home lately anyway.”
“Thanks mom,” I said. “Want me to put the coffee on?
“That sounds lovely, but first what is the dark green one supposed to be?” she asked. “A spider?”