by E. Earle
I nodded, feeling nervous for some reason as I looked up at him. Then, I said it. “I’ve got to go back.”
I held my breath as his smile died, but he wasn’t angry. He shook his head, disappointment unmistakable in his eyes.
“I’ll be back for the museum launch,” I threw in quickly.
“And after?”
I held my breath again, wondering when I could ever breathe normally again. “I don’t know,” I said honestly. “We’ll see.”
He nodded then. “When do you leave?”
Swallowing, I put down Ben. “Tonight.”
He flinched slightly. “Ok,” he said. “Well, I wish you the best of luck.”
I stared at his open hand as he waited for me to shake it. “Brynn...” I said, “We’re still partners in all of this-”
“Yeah,” he said, smiling bitterly. “I thought so too.”
My mouth worked as he walked away, but no sound would come out. I looked down to Ben and saw his expression of, ‘you’ve done it this time.’ “What was I supposed to say?” I offered weakly.
Ben didn’t answer.
But he didn’t have to.
I packed my things miserably, preferring to do it whilst everyone was distracted with the wake. Maybe it was bad leaving at this time, but I felt if I didn’t leave now, then I would never go.
I sighed after getting off the phone to Christopher. He had become my own solicitor now- he knew about the museum’s history and I instinctively trusted him for some reason. Knowing I had done the right thing, I slid my phone into my pocket. I had made Brynn an equal partner of Craggys. It was a huge leap of faith, but I knew it was right. I needed to show him I was serious.
“What now?” Ben meowed.
I zipped up my suitcase and looked around my empty room, remembering my first miserable night here. “We go home.”
Ben stared at me, as if to say, ‘which one?’
I rolled my eyes. “The Midlands,” I snapped. “You know where we’re going.”
He flicked his tail at me. “Of course I do,” he said haughtily. “Do you?”
I had a suspicion that he wasn’t talking about direction in terms of maps and opened the door. “Come on.”
I jumped as I walked into someone’s chest and dropped my bag. Brynn stood in front of me, a look of determination in his eyes. His tie was loose and I knew he had probably just downed a quick drink from his reddened lips.
“Brynn-”
“If you’re going to go, then go,” he said stepping forward. “But I’m not going to let you disappear without this.”
His mouth was on mine before I knew it. His arms kept me tightly in place as he pushed me towards him by the small of my back. I just managed to make a small sound of surprise as I tasted brandy on his lips, his hand suddenly in my hair.
He stepped back just as abruptly, releasing me from his hold. His eyes were dark as he breathed hard, his hands now clenched. “Goodbye, Ellena.” He walked away, leaving me open mouthed, head spinning and knees shaking.
I stared after him, and looked to Ben in astonishment. “What just happened?” I breathed.
Ben trotted ahead of me, tail high in the air. “You humans and your strange goodbyes.”
Chapter Eleven
I drove away from Craggys probably faster than I was supposed to. Ben meowed in protest for the first few miles until I finally slowed down. It was a miserable five hour drive back home, and as soon as I stepped back into my flat, I sat on the floor and burst into tears.
I allowed myself two minutes of misery with Ben curled up in my lap before I stood up, dusted myself up and told myself to get a grip. I spent the next week visiting family, spending time with Rowan and the rest of my spare hours in talks with the college about arranging classes for the next intake of students.
I became once again the professional individual that I had always inspired to be before...
…before any of this.
It was my sister who snapped me out of it.
“What’s wrong with you, Ellena?” she said, bouncing Rowan up and down on her lap. He was going through a grumpy moment and she was trying to distract him. “You’ve been miserable since you’ve been back.”
I shook my head and put down my cup of tea. Ben had gone hunting. He didn’t like coming round my sister’s, as my sister and her husband Ryan kept an overactive one year old poodle, whose idea of greeting you was jumping up and winding you in the stomach.
“I just feel bad,” I admitted.
Brynn had sent me an email stating that everything was fine at Craggys and that renovation wouldn’t start on the museum until August. Work had started on the burnt down outbuildings, courtesy of Patrick, and Donny had returned to his duties. He mentioned nothing of our kiss, or of the fact that I had made him partner of the business. Was he angry? I had no idea. Either way, I didn’t feel as though it was right to discuss over email and I was too chicken to pick up the phone.
“You’ve got nothing to feel bad about,” Kayleigh snapped, always straight to the point. “You made a success of that place, despite what Barry tried to do. He left you in the shit, and now you’re making money.”
I raised an eyebrow. “I’m not sure about that,” I mumbled. “I suppose I’m just…”
“What?”
I shrugged and shook my head. “Doesn’t matter.”
“Is it Arthur?”
My head snapped up. “Why?”
She made a face as though she didn’t want to say. “He came over some while ago to talk to me and Ryan about you,” she said reluctantly. “With Rino still on the loose, he wanted to make sure that we were aware of what was happening.”
My jaw clenched down. That man was always meddling. “And are you aware?”
Kayleigh threw me a warning glance. “I’m your sister, Ellena. I have a right to be worried about you.”
I mumbled a, “sorry” and changed the subject back onto babies.
Kayleigh had come into her own as a mother. I loved seeing the look I her eyes as she gazed at her son. Rowan had grown so much since I had last seen him. His eyes had been dark when I had last left, but now they were green like his mother’s. We joked that when he scowled he looked like his dad, and that he had his mother’s grumpiness when it came to being hungry.
I stood up, and dusted my lap free of biscuit crumbs.
“Where you off to, now?” my sister asked looking at her watch.
“Just going to make a few calls,” I said. “I’ve got some things to sort out.”
The drive to Calloway’s took half an hour. It was a Thursday and it was his day off- I knew this because we used to always go to his local and play darts. He was surprisingly good at it and I don’t think I even won once. I parked outside The Swan and got out of my Fiat Punto, heart beating fast as I recognised his new black Vauxhall in the car park, immaculate as always. Quickly checking my hair in my reflection, I nodded at myself in assurance and walked in.
I needed to talk to him about Rino, and most importantly to apologise for not being friendlier at Craggys. I wasn’t angry that we hadn’t worked out; I think I was just disappointed. Did I want anything from him now? I wasn’t sure. I didn’t think so. Brynn’s kiss had thrown my mind into overdrive and I refused to think any more of it, although Ben would say otherwise.
It was a nice little pub filled with lots of nooks and crannies to have private and intimate conversions. Memories of our time together washed over me and my gut twisted in reaction. The walls were covered in old pictures of its time in the heyday, black and white faces looked solemnly and some drunkenly at the person taking the photograph. I nodded at two old men chatting, recognising them from my previous visits and they nodded back, although I was pretty sure they didn’t recognise me.
The pub had two adjoining rooms, one of which led on to a small room, which Calloway and I had nicknamed The Snug. It was a small section that overlooked the garden next to a small wood burner fireplace. A smile had already start
ed to play on my face as I walked into the next room and I froze.
Calloway was sitting at our usual booth, clean shaven and relaxed. He wore a casual shirt with dark grey jeans as he sipped from his pint of bitter. A glass of wine was on the table that didn’t belong to him.
The woman next to him tilted her head back as she laughed at whatever he had just said. My eyes scanned her long legs and the peach dress that covered her perfect skin with a narrowing eye.
I stepped back but not before Calloway saw me. Surprise covered his face as he put down his pint and stood up. “Ellena-”
I was gone.
He may be a cop, but I was a woman in pursuit of escape. You learn a few things with an escape artist cat as a roommate. I was in my car and driving before he could even get out of the pub.
Images of him with the woman flashed into my mind as I found myself driving towards Nuneaton town centre. I took a deep shuddering breath, knowing that Ben would be expecting me home soon. My phone buzzed, but I ignored it, knowing it was from Calloway. I parked my car and went to delete his message before reading it. It hurt more to see that the message was from my sister saying that she was going shopping and asking if there was anything I wanted. I frowned as I replied, ‘no thank you xxx’ and started walking.
I stood outside the museum wondering why on earth I was there. I clenched my jaw, telling myself I knew exactly why I was there and walked in. It was the same as always. The only thing that had changed in that museum was the occasional change of installations. But there was only one I wanted to see.
I walked into the George Eliot museum and up to the stand where her desk used to be. They had replaced it with a 3D cardboard cut-out of what it had looked like, designed by the students of the nearby college that I worked at. It had a nice little news story that had been published in the local paper, next to the bigger news story from the BBC of its original theft.
I looked at the portrait of George Eliot, (real name being Mary Ann Evans) feeling a twinge of pity that she hadn’t been the beauty that maybe her admirers would have liked. It didn’t matter to me. Her work had been the thing that had inspired me to go to University to do my Degree in Creative Writing in the first place. The fact that she could carve her career in writing in a world of men was an inspiration.
“Sorry, Mary,” I said quietly. “But it was for a good cause.”
Her portrait stared back at me, no condemnation in her eyes for my act of blackmail. The desk was gone. It was done and dusted. I had sacrificed the jewel of Nuneaton for the sake of my friends.
It had been worth it.
I started as realisation hit me. I had done it all for Craggys- for Brynn, for Jack, for Donny, Marley- the lot of them.
A shuddering breath escaped me as I put my hands on my hips, knowing there had been a reason why I hadn’t unpacked my bag.
“Here we go again.”
I sang on the journey back to Craggys that afternoon, Ben joining in at times, although he didn’t know the words to most of the songs and decided to go ‘freestyle’ with some good old cat-yowling.
The sun was setting, casting the sky in a bright orange glow. Ben jumped up and decided to sunbathe on the dashboard. I warned him of the dangers, but he flicked his tail at me in dismissal.
It was night when I started driving down the small road towards Craggys. I wasn’t even tired. Excitement at seeing everyone pounced in my blood and I realised that it wasn’t just that I was looking forward to.
I parked my car outside Craggys and stepped out, Ben jumping out after me. Lights shone from the windows and my heart started to beat that little bit faster when I saw Brynn’s truck parked in its usual spot.
“What now?” Ben meowed as he stood at my side.
I shrugged. “We get ourselves in a whole lot of trouble I suppose.”
Someone’s voice shouted out from a window in greeting and I waved, seeing Jack’s tanned face grinning. “Wahey, what are you doing back?” he called.
I lifted up my heavy suitcase with two hands and then dropped it. “What does it look like?” I shouted back.
“You’re back?”
“Yep.”
“For good?”
“Looks like it,” I said. I heard him make a whoop and laughed as he shut the window, saying he would be right down. I heard the door open and slam shut, too soon for it to be Jack.
“Did I hear right?” said a familiar voice. “You’re staying?”
I smiled, seeing Brynn walking out of the shadows. “Carry my bag and I might say yes.”
He was wearing a green tartan shirt, rolled up to the sleeves and black jeans. Relief and surprise were bright in his eyes. I heaved in a deep breath and thoughts quickly raced through my mind. Rino still being on the loose and the mysterious woman after Marley’s secret pirate hoard with the ‘great legs’ still being unknown to us. There was the museum that still needed to be dealt with, the college to talk to and the fact that I still hadn’t learnt to surf.
Brynn walked up to me and leant close. My breath held as I felt the heat radiate from him but he was only leaning forward to grab my case.
“Come on in,” he said with a wink. “I’ll pour you a rum.”
I watched him walk in, announcing my arrival and I looked down to Ben, pale gold in the moonlight.
I rolled my eyes. “I know the deal.”
“You better have plenty of catnip,” he told me, jumping up into my arms. “I have a feeling that we’re going to need it.”
“Amen to that,” I said, holding him close and walking into the warmth of Craggys, a chorus of greetings, whoops and celebrations surrounding me.
Rino, the treasure and Miss Great-Legs would have to wait.
Tonight was about being home.
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More from this author…
The Adventures of Benedict and Blackwell
The Girl with Nine Lives
The Girl who Bit Back
The Girl with Ten Claws
Stay tuned for the next instalment!
Hell Huntress
Tartarus
The Girl with Ten Claws
The Girl with Ten Claws
The Adventures of Benedict and Blackwell
Book 3
By E. Earle
©2014 Copyright E. Earle
www.eearle.com
All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted, in any form or by any means without permission of the author.
For my mother…
Note from the Author
I need to say this…
I am eternally grateful for the month of October, for the invention of cinnamon, for singing about the riptide and for the Lake District. I am forever indebted to perseverance, hope and for a last page in someone’s diary. I am thankful for meeting The Mother of Dragons and the star of The Alex Show. I am indebted for the baking of Mrs Claus, meeting the original Windup Merchant, and seeing what a shaved Bichon Frieze looks like.
Most of all I am grateful for second chances, a ticket to Mount Doom and finally finding my soul mate to do it all with.
Acknowledgements
Thank you for being there when I thought my world was crumbling. Thank you for your endless supply of cookies and for listening when I was too scared to speak. Thank you for giving me the strength to put myself back together.
Thank you for being family.
The Girl
with
Ten Claws
The Girl with Ten Claws
The Adventures of Benedict and Blackwell
Book 3
By E. Earle
©2014 Copyright E. Earle
www.eearle.com
All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted, in any form or by any means without permission of the author.
For my mother…
Note
from the Author
I need to say this…
I am eternally grateful for the month of October, for the invention of cinnamon, for singing about the riptide and for the Lake District. I am forever indebted to perseverance, hope and for a last page in someone’s diary. I am thankful for meeting The Mother of Dragons and the star of The Alex Show. I am indebted for the baking of Mrs Claus, meeting the original Windup Merchant, and seeing what a shaved Bichon Frieze looks like.
Most of all I am grateful for second chances, a ticket to Mount Doom and finally finding my soul mate to do it all with.
Acknowledgements
Thank you for being there when I thought my world was crumbling. Thank you for your endless supply of cookies and for listening when I was too scared to speak. Thank you for giving me the strength to put myself back together.
Thank you for being family.
Chapter One
I stared at the blood as it welled from me; its redness a stark comparison to the filth covering my skin. Biting back a yowl of pain, I looked around at the broken devastation surrounding me.
“You ok?”
“Paper cut,” I grumbled, shoving my dirty thumb in my mouth. “This place is a mess.”
Brynn turned around in a full circle to appreciate the full size of the hell hole we had landed ourselves into.
The museum.
It had been left to us by the village drunk, Old Marley when he passed away, and we were determined to get it up and running again.
“Stop moaning,” he chided, his face streaked with grime and dark hair filled with dust. “We’ll be ok.”
