“Lovely. I’ll have that with oil and vinegar on the side, and a glass of water. No ice.”
Eve huffed. “Sounds delish.” Before Nelson could respond, she walked away.
Nelson looked around the cafe, which was not particularly busy even though it was noon. The Bigfoot hunter grimaced a little, as if he found the place unpleasant. Maybe Eve’s Cafe was plain, it was certainly not fancy, but if he’d actually try the food, he’d change his tune.
“The food here is great,” Marnie said. “It’s normally pretty busy at lunchtime.” She suspected many of the usual customers were at home, sleeping off the effects of last night’s party.
Nelson made a low sound that was kind of a scoff, then he said, “Our waitress is rather a bitch, don’t you think?”
Marnie was surprised by his words, which were delivered in that lovely accent but with a bite she didn’t care for. She didn’t say so. “Eve’s not usually so rude. She must be having a bad day.”
He smiled. It was a very nice smile. “Everyone is allowed, I suppose.” His tone shifted, became friendlier, not so snobbish. He leaned over the table a bit, and the smile widened. “Now, tell me all about your sightings. After we eat, we’ll check out the locations. I want to get a few pictures before the camera crew arrives.”
Eve slapped a tall glass of tea and another of water — no ice — on the table. When she was gone again, Marnie whispered, “Camera crew?”
“Didn’t I mention it?” Nelson brushed a strand of hair away from his face with long, elegant fingers. “I’m filming a new show for a well-known cable network. I’m not yet at liberty to share the details, but trust me, you will be impressed. The first episode won’t air for six months, which is why you haven’t heard of it. I’m quite excited. There aren’t many shows out there with cryptozoologists at the helm, and the others are, well, rather substandard.”
“I didn’t realize…”
He grinned at her. “Smile, Marnie. You’re about to be a star.”
“I don’t want to be a star.” She’d just wanted someone to tell her that she wasn’t crazy.
“You’ll be brilliant,” he said. “Will your large and rather quiet friend be joining us on our excursion?”
“Clint? No, I don’t think so.”
“Is he…” Nelson waved one hand to the side, “Your boyfriend? A significant other? Just a friend?”
Marnie sighed. That was a question she was still asking herself. “To be totally honest, I’m not sure.”
“You’re a beautiful and intelligent woman. I’m sure you can do better.”
What the hell did that mean? Clint was a good man, a good (if slightly twisted) writer, and though she would not tell Nelson, he was also the sexiest man she’d ever known. He was lumberjacky at first glance, that was true, but what was wrong with that? Nothing. Nothing at all.
Before she could come up with a response, Eve placed a large bowl of lettuce in front of Nelson. There were two cherry tomatoes, as well as a few soggy looking slices of cucumber, on top. Those slimy things might’ve come straight out of the much-maligned cucumber water. The oil and vinegar were set to the side, as requested. It looked nothing like the fantastic salad she’d eaten here, a couple of days ago.
Marnie’s own chicken pot pie looked much better.
Nelson pursed his lips as he studied her meal with disdain. Then he sighed and said, “You know, the camera adds at least ten pounds.”
Her initial response, which remained unspoken, was bite me.
Chapter 13
Clint’s plan was to go home, shift, and run the woods for hours. He rarely experienced rage, but when he did that was his response. The freedom of embracing who he was at his core soothed his soul.
He’d only felt this way two times in his life. After his parents had died, and when he’d found out Jenna had been trying to change him.
Dammit, a woman he had just met should not have the power to break his heart and his spirit, to drive him to this.
He sometimes wondered if he was more man or beast. What had he been born to be? Which was his true natural state? Since he’d been born human and had remained that way for fifteen years before he’d shifted for the first time, it would seem that was his nature. But at times like these he felt as if Dyn Gwallt was his true self, as if he were truly himself only when he embraced the beast.
Tempted as he was, he didn’t immediately head for home. He went into the hardware store and browsed a bit. Luke seemed distracted, and didn’t have anything set aside for Clint, so they barely spoke. When that was done, he went into Ivy’s bakery and bought two bear claws and a big cup of coffee. She didn’t bother him while he sat at one of her tiny tables and consumed it all.
That done, he headed down to the beauty shop to see if Gabi had a moment to trim his hair, but she was booked. This was a sparsely populated town, for sure, but Saturday was the hairdresser’s busiest day. He could’ve waited, but he didn’t. He wanted to be on the street, needed to be there.
He left Main Street briefly, walking with purpose toward the Mayor’s house. He knocked on the door forcefully. She was slow, but eventually a smiling Frannie Smith, wearing a silky hot pink bathrobe, opened the door and invited him in.
Clint declined to enter the house. “You know why I’m here. No cake for Marnie.”
Frannie sighed. “She’s going to be trouble, and you know it. Several of us are quite worried.”
“I’ll take care of it. No more cake. I want your word.”
The old woman rolled her eyes and promised she’d lay off the baking, for a while.
Clint hurried back toward Main Street, looking this way and that as he came to the intersection. His eyes lingered on the far south end of the street. It was then that he realized that he was waiting around to see Nelson Lovell leave the library. It wasn’t yet noon. The Bigfoot hunter was still there, talking to Marnie. Talking about him.
He should go home. He didn’t.
After perusing the offerings in the antique store window for a bit, he got an ice cream cone from Jordan’s shop. As usual, it was freezing in her place. She seemed to like it that way, no matter the time of year. She smiled as he made his selection, but was quiet, as usual.
Like her father before her, Jordan was the reason that in Mystic Springs, it always snowed on Christmas Eve.
Clint ate his ice cream cone standing on the sidewalk. His truck was close, where he’d parked it last night. He could climb in and head home whenever he felt like it, but he continued to wait. How the hell long was Lovell going to stay in the library?
“Fuck it,” he said beneath his breath as he headed for his truck. Time to go home. Past time.
He had the key fob in his hand, but before he could unlock the driver’s side door, Susan intercepted him. She appeared out of nowhere, swooping into his path.
She looked unsettled. Nervous. That was not a normal look for her.
“There you are,” she said, her voice calm but her eyes… not so much. “I worried when I saw that your truck hadn’t moved since yesterday.”
He could make up a tale, but why bother? “I spent the night at Marnie’s.”
“Oh, I see.” Susan was savvy, but she wasn’t a practiced liar. She knew good and well where he’d been last night.
“But you knew that, didn’t you?”
Susan sighed, then glanced down the sidewalk toward a couple that was walking their way, probably heading to the ice cream shop for a treat. “It’s impossible to keep a secret in this town. Well, normally.” She took his arm and led him across the street to a spot on the sidewalk that was deserted. No one had gathered outside the police station to visit.
Clint couldn’t help but remember when downtown had been packed on every summer Saturday. The town really was dying. What would they do when there was nothing left? The idea chilled him.
Still holding on, Susan walked him to the nearest cross street, where she turned. Only then did she drop his arm. He couldn’t see the library fro
m here, but what the hell? He wasn’t Marnie’s keeper, and Lovell was going to be a pain in the ass no matter where he was or how long he hung out at the library.
Was Susan afraid someone would come along and interrupt them if they stayed on Main Street? No one would bother them here, that was certain. The closest house to the left of this quiet street was for sale and had been for a while. Someone from the town council mowed the grass, in order to keep it presentable, and there were a couple of rocking chairs on the wide front porch. That was where Susan took him.
She sat, sighed, and indicated that he should take the chair beside her.
He didn’t have time for this, whatever it was. “Look, I…”
She didn’t allow him to finish. “Before she was killed, Alice was concocting a potion to do what she’s always wanted to do.”
Now she had his attention. “Brigadoon?”
“Brigadoon. I didn’t think she’d ever manage it, and goodness knows she tried for years, but she finally had it. She found the spell a couple of years ago, but it calls for a formula, a potion of sorts, in order to activate it.” Susan looked at him, and it was then that he noticed how tired she was. “If Alice hadn’t died, Mystic Springs would have been entirely isolated from the world within a few weeks. Perhaps days.”
No one would have ever found Mystic Springs again. No one would have been able to find their way out, either. They’d be trapped, their small town isolated as if it had been completely encased in a snow globe. No way in, no way out. “Is that why she was killed?”
Susan looked out over the recently mowed lawn. “I don’t know, but I suppose that’s possible.”
Again, Clint noted the exhaustion behind Susan’s eyes. She was always so calm, or at least she appeared to be. Maybe she just hid her anxiety well.
“She’s dead and we’re still a part of the world, so what’s got you in such a state?”
“Alice is dead, but the formula she concocted to go along with the spell is somewhere in that house. At least, I think it’s there. I can almost feel it. As you well know there are others, some of the most militant Springers, who would love to get their hands on it and finish what she started.”
That was the truth. Alice had not been the only Springer so fed up with the world that they wanted nothing more than to cut themselves — and everyone else — off from it.
Still others wanted to do the opposite, to knock down the bubble that protected Mystic Springs and make them a real and true part of the world. They’d want the formula as well, in order to destroy it so it could never be used.
“I could’ve placed the new librarian in a number of vacant houses,” Susan said, “but I put her in Alice’s house so I could go in and out without rousing suspicion.”
“So you could search for the spell and the formula. Or do you already have the spell?”
“I found the spell a few months ago, but it was a copy. I’m sure Alice shared it with others. But the formula… I think she kept that to herself. And yes, I’ve been in and out of the house a number of times, searching for five minutes here, fifteen there. For all the good it’s done me. The formula for the potion is there, I know it, I can sense it, but I haven’t been able to find the damn thing.” She looked at him again. “I searched when I was getting the house ready for Marnie, and a couple of times while she was at work. I’d carry in food, or flowers, or something so anyone watching would think my reason for being there was normal council business.”
“Susan Tisdale, welcome wagon,” Clint grumbled.
She ignored him. “I’m not the only one who knows about Alice’s success. I suspect whoever tried to scare Marnie wants her out of the house so they can tear it apart. To find and use the formula or destroy it, I don’t know. Could be either one.” Susan tried a smile that didn’t work. “If you’re going to spend time there, you could look around.”
“I won’t be going back.” Harsh words, but true.
Susan looked genuinely surprised. “Why not?”
“She called in a damn Bigfoot hunter. Nelson Lovell.”
“Well, shit,” Susan drawled. “I should’ve asked for a name for her ‘friend from out of town,’ when she called to ask about a place for a visitor to stay. I thought maybe it was a girlfriend from Birmingham, or family in for a visit. She’s not close to any of her relatives, I made sure of that before I hired her, but still, family is family.” She huffed a bit. “Lovell’s presence could complicate things, though he can and will be taken care of.”
“The problem isn’t what he might find, it’s that Marnie called him in.”
Susan shrugged. Don’t take it personally. “She saw you, she doesn’t know it’s you, her response is a natural one. You can’t blame her for taking action.”
Yes, he could. He did. Logical or not, it was a betrayal to bring his greatest fear to his home.
Susan looked him in the eye in an almost censuring way. “I need you to keep seeing her. Find the formula for that potion and destroy it, before someone who wants to use the spell gets their hands on it.”
“How many people know about it?”
“A small handful. If word got out, you can only imagine what would happen.”
War. The only issue that divided the Springers was that of isolation. Did they continue to be a part of the world, or did they shun everyone who was not like them? A large portion of the residents would welcome a spell that hid them from the rest of the world. Brigadoon, they had always called it. Some said the word with a sneer, others with wistful hope.
“I’ll see what I can do.”
Susan looked genuinely concerned when she said, “Keep a close eye on Marnie. I’m not sure what lengths those who want what Alice discovered would go to in order to have access to that house. If they find it before we do…”
“You should’ve thought of that before. Marnie is in danger because you put her in that house. Frannie baked her a cake.”
“Well, shit. I’ll have a talk with our Mayor.”
“I already did.”
Susan looked away from him, lost in thought for a long moment. “I did what I thought was best.”
He shouldn’t care, but the feeling that they could be more, the feeling that Marnie was the one, lingered. Betrayal aside, he didn’t want to see her hurt.
“You decided that losing a Non-Springer was a risk you were willing to take.”
She didn’t deny that accusation.
The more Marnie talked to Nelson, the less she liked him. The accent that had initially been so charming became annoying. He complained a lot. About the heat, the food, the people. It wasn’t like Mystic Springs was perfect. She’d had her own share of troubles, but she didn’t complain about everything and everyone. Did she? If she did, she hoped she didn’t sound so petty.
After lunch they walked to her house — she wonderfully full from a fantastic chicken pot pie, Nelson grumbling about the plainness of his salad — where she collected her car keys and her car, which hadn’t been driven in almost a week. She drove slowly along Magnolia Road and turned onto Main Street. One more turn ahead, and she’d be heading to the site where she’d first seen Bigfoot.
Along the way Nelson studied the town, commenting often and negatively on its size and lack of activity. Right before she turned off Main Street he pointed out the car he’d driven to town, a ridiculous silver sports car which sat so low to the ground she’d have to crawl in, if she were to ride in it. Which she did not plan to do.
When she reached her destination Marnie parked on the side of the road, on the town side of Harry’s — the interior of which she hoped never to see again — and pointed out what she’d seen and where. Nelson stopped complaining and asked a hundred questions. Most of them she had no answer to. He walked into the woods while she stayed on the side of the road, out in the open. She was not going in there, no way. There had been a time when she’d planned to do just that, to walk in the woods, to find her way down to the river not too far from her house. She’d seriously t
hought about getting a picture of Bigfoot, of seeing the thing up close. What had she been thinking?
Nelson seemed fascinated with the wooded area, though he found nothing of interest.
After that, Marnie drove him back to her house so she could point out the woods where she’d seen the creature the second time. He seemed interested in both settings, but in both he focused on the wooded surroundings rather than the clearings where the beast had been visible.
Nelson walked deep into the woods behind her house, as he had beyond the road where she’d had her flat tire Monday evening, looking for poop. He called it “scat” but that was just a fancy word for poop. He seemed disappointed, so she assumed he didn’t find any.
Marnie remained in her back yard, waiting for him to finish his hunt beyond her white picket fence. There had been a time when she’d planned to do just that, to walk in the woods, to find her way down to the river. Her desire to explore had died a slow but certain death.
As she walked the edges of her flower garden, her mind kept returning to Clint. She’d tried for a while not to think about him, but that hadn’t worked so why even make the attempt?
She bent down and pulled a pesky weed, then another. Her mind wandered.
Why had he been so annoyed with her? What about Nelson had set him off? Ok, good looks and sexy accent aside Nelson could be annoying, she’d figured that out already, but Clint had obviously hated the cryptozoologist on sight.
His instincts were better than hers.
At first glance, Nelson Lovell was everything she wanted in a man. Handsome. Cultured. A writer who didn’t scare her with vivid descriptions of unnatural beings and nauseating gore. And that accent! But he was also kind of a jerk at times, and honestly, was hunting Bigfoot really a sophisticated career choice?
Watching Nelson walk into the woods with his camera and notebook, she’d realized Bigfoot hunting was not for her. There were more important things in life. Like…
“Where’s the asshat?”
Bigfoot and the Librarian Page 12
