The Girl With Nine Lives and The Girl Who Bit Back: The Adventures of Benedict and Blackwell Book 1 & 2

by E. Earle

  Been there.

  There.

  God, I’m sorry.

  Blackness waved through my sight again as Brynn held me up, his arms almost supporting all of my weight. “Don’t lose me,” I whispered through gritted teeth, fighting through the ink blots in my sight. “I won’t go!” I snarled. “I won’t, go!”

  My gunshot wound started to burn and my feet struggled to find purchase on the floor. Ben meowed loudly and my nails dug into Brynn’s shoulder. I looked up and saw his dark eyes willing me to stay there.

  “Come on Ellena,” he murmured. “Come on.”

  I blinked through the dancing lights and focused my vision on Ben, his unwavering constant figure in the world of grey that surrounded me. For some reason his coat was burning more brightly in my sight, and when I blinked away the last of the sickly blackness, he looked back to normal.

  Brynn’s hold still tight on me; I straightened up and flushed in embarrassment. “I’m sorry,” I mumbled.

  “Don’t worry about it,” Christopher said nonchalantly. “I used to have panic attacks all the time. A pain, aren’t they?”

  I blinked in surprise at his casualness about the situation and then realised he was doing it for my own benefit. I smiled at him gratefully and breathed out a sigh of relief when I could finally feel my knees again. “Yes,” I said, my hand going to my side. I looked back at my palm and for some reason was surprised not to see blood. Shaking my head, I and told myself to focus.

  “Sorry,” I mumbled again.

  “Here,” Brynn said, gently ushering me to a stool. Satisfied that I wasn’t going to fall over anywhere, he straightened and looked to Christopher, pointedly not apologising for my ‘near miss’. I don’t know why but it made me feel good.

  Christopher launched right into it. I was then informed that if I thought I could shirk out of inheriting the museum, I was well and truly mistaken. The land had been bought and paid for, and the only thing that required money was the renovation of the place, marketing and promotion, plus all of the re-licensing. Apparently we had signed something to say that we would not sell to his brother or any of his colleagues, acquaintances or other family and the business would be strictly between us as a partnership. “Chris? Can you wait in telling Marley’s brother about the museum until a certain time today?”

  Christopher smiled. “Of course.”

  “Good.”

  Christopher left and told us he would contact us about funeral arrangements. Apparently Marley had been a terribly organised man and had sorted even that out.

  It made me want to cry even more, but I was so dehydrated at that point I didn’t even risk at losing another tear. I looked at my watch.

  “Ok,” I sniffed, throwing the towel from George Eliot’s desk and turned to Jack and Brynn. “You two bugger off, we’ve got things to do.” They had another surf lesson that morning, and I wondered whether Model-Girl would be involved or not.

  I waited an hour, but I knew he would come.

  Patrick walked in with his two cronies, furious energy bouncing off them onto every surface in the room. Ben’s fur prickled as soon as the door opened and I stroked him to calm him down.

  “Oh hi,” I said looking up at the three of them casually. “What can I do for you, Patrick? May I mention, once again, that your two employees are barred?”

  “My brother died this morning,” Patrick said almost gleefully. “I know you came onto my property last night and took the artefacts. I have an auction due this Saturday- that property is now rightfully mine!”

  I looked up. Patrick’s face was flushed. I searched for any sign of mourning and found none. Shrugging, I carried on putting away glasses. “Don’t think so.”

  Patrick laughed at me and pulled out a cigarette from his coat pocket. It was meant to infuriate me as he lit it, but I ignored it.

  “Apparently my garage is empty,” Patrick said with false pleasantness as he outstretched his arms in a show of ‘you-can-trust-me’. “My boys came this morning to shift the stock to find that it had gone. Now that’s a strange coincidence isn’t it?”

  I shrugged. “What makes you think I had anything to do with it?”

  “I have CCTV, goddammit.”

  “Oh.”

  He smiled at my short lived discomfort and then scowled as I shrugged again. “I can have you arrested.”

  “So?” I sniffed, picked up a tea towel and throwing it over my shoulder. “You’re not the only person who knows people. I can write a letter to someone very important to help me on this. In fact…” I bent down behind the bar and lifted up George Eliot’s solitaire desk and a hammer. “Maybe I should write that letter right now?”

  Patrick Marley’s mouth worked open and closed, blustering and blubbering at the sight of the famous author’s desk before him. He swung suddenly found to Thug #1 and Thug #2. “I told you to put that somewhere safe!”

  Thug #2 shifted in fear. “We did, sir,” he said, his voice losing its intimidating edge and took on more of a whining school boy’s. “We put it where you usually put the rest of the stuff…”

  “Not this!” Patrick howled.

  “Don’t worry, boss,” Boris said smugly, crossing his hands. “There are other flammable items we can set alight here to teach her a lesson.”

  Becker’s face broke out in a grin as he mimicked the sound of an explosion. “Terrible thing fires,” he said, shaking his head.

  I held back a retort and kept that unmovable look of calm on my face. It seemed to disturb the men and they looked to each other as if I was nuts.

  “You know that CCTV technology you have is really amazing,” I said calmly. “I don’t have that. I just have a recording device on my phone. It usually gets me into trouble but it works in any case.” I pointed to my phone, tactfully placed on a shelf on the bar, pointing at Patrick and his crew.

  Patrick laughed. “That means nothing!” He was smiling at me, and my stomach turned at the sight of it. Ben hissed. “The museum is mine now!”

  “No it’s not!” I growled suddenly slamming my hands on the bar, ignoring the exploding pain that followed. “It’s mine and Brynn O Connells.” I looked down at my watch. “In fact, you should be getting a call… right…about… now.”

  Patrick’s phone started ringing, and we all stood about awkwardly waiting for him to answer it. He growled and pulled it out of his pocket in annoyance and confusion. “What is this?” he demanded.

  “Answer it and find out.”

  As he answered his phone and Christopher’s voice sang through on the other side, I was welcomed by the changing of colours on Patrick’s face, from red, to white, to scarlet, to yellow and then gray.

  He hung up, his face shaking. “How dare you!” he spat. “That place is rightfully mine!”

  I pointed up at the camera and tutted. “Now, now,” I said. “Best to calm down, isn’t it? Wouldn’t want you saying something and regretting it, now, would we?”

  I watched as Patrick’s eyes followed my hands as I picked up the hammer over George Eliot’s desk. His body lurched, as though wanting to snatch it away from me.

  “This is George Eliot’s desk,” I announced loudly, more for the camera’s benefit than my own. “Stolen by Patrick Marley and his Motley Crew of mongrels, intended to be resold through auction.”

  “I would never sell it!” Patrick snarled. “I intended to keep it!” He slapped a hand over his mouth, his eyes going wide in disbelief what he had just said. He swore and then looked to Boris and Becker. “Goddammit, get the desk!” he snarled.

  As the thugs lurched forward, I lifted the hammer above the desk. Patrick howled at them to stop and they obeyed like faithful dogs. I smiled as my hand didn’t shake above the pristine wood.

  “One more step and I will smash this into something you couldn’t even flog at a car boot!”

  Patrick motioned for them to step back and they did. “What do you want?”

  I stared at him for long seconds before I spoke. “I
want you to leave this place alone, including your brother’s museum,” I said.

  “And why would I do that?” he sneered.

  “Else I will reveal this video to every police station that will listen, upload it to every blog, social networking site and YouTube channel available.” I took a breath, my tongue dry but lips restless to move. “I will give you George Eliot’s desk on the condition that you make sure no one from your party tries to obstruct us in rebuilding the museum.” There, I had said it. I saw the look of obsession flash in Patrick’s eyes and then swindle into calmness.

  “If I don’t agree?”

  I cocked my head to one side and wrinkled my nose uncaringly. “I’ll just upload it anyway, return the desk, have you arrested and you’ll probably be investigated for a whole load of other offences.” I smiled. “I hear there’s a load of bad things you’re into.” It was a lie, but the fear in his face was reward enough.

  “You would give me the desk?”

  I nodded, hating myself. “On a peace condition.”

  He swallowed, staring at the desk hungrily. “I’ve been after that desk for too long,” he murmured hungrily, probably too quiet for my camera to pick up, but I didn’t care. “I visited Nuneaton briefly after a two hour wait from my train and saw the exhibition of her life and personal possessions.” He looked up at me then. “You know, when I found out you were from the same place I actually got excited?” He looked up and down the length of me, his lip curling. “Your sort could never appreciate her works.”

  “I teach English, dumbass,” I snapped. “I thought you had Googled me, for God’s sake?”

  He looked to Boris and Becker and shifted his chin in indication for them to leave. He turned back to me as soon as they shut the door behind them. “Why wouldn’t you just return the desk to the museum?” he asked in reluctant curiosity.

  “Because I want to keep things sweet between us,” I said in mock friendliness. “If I didn’t have something to bend your arse over backwards, then I have a distinct feeling that you’d probably try and make my life a living hell.” The smile I gave him was sickly. “And I’d rather be the one in control, thank you. This way, we both get what we want, and I’m all up for mutual satisfaction.”

  “I could take that desk from you right now,” he growled, his lip curling at me.

  I raised the hammer with a bored look on my face that screamed, ‘try it.’

  A flash of alarm widened his eyes as he summed up whether I was bluffing or not. “I take that desk now, and we call this quits?”

  I nodded. “If you and yours ever cause harm or trouble, that video will be leaked everywhere and you will instantly be arrested.” I sighed dramatically then. “Think of your reputation! It would cause quite a scandal wouldn’t it? Those important business associates of yours will have nowhere to trade their stolen antiques… Still,” I added haphazardly waving the hammer in the air, “I’m sure there are plenty of other people willing to snap business from you.” I flashed him a brilliant smile.

  He lifted his chin, his eyes finally lying on the desk. “That desk is priceless!” he said through gritted teeth.

  “Then it’s worth the deal then, isn’t it?”

  His cold blue eyes fixed on mine for a full ten seconds before he finally smiled. “Fine,” he said, looking as though those words were anything but what he really wanted to say. “You’ve got some bite, Miss Blackwell.”

  “You’ll also be paying for the damage your louts did to my business.”

  His face twisted by the unexpected add on. Quickly recovering he gave me that professional whitened smile. “Fine.” His hands twitched hungry to lay them on George Eliot’s desk.

  I hated myself a little as I handed him it, the wood warm in my hands. It was something so precious and missed by my town, but I knew as soon as I allowed him to take it that it was a small sacrifice for this small group of people I had met.

  “I’ll be seeing you,” he said as he turned away.

  “No, you won’t.”

  The next week flew by. We saw no more of Patrick or his pair of idiots. Marley’s funeral came, and Ben was even invited. I had a bit of a joke by putting on a bow tie around his neck, which he wasn’t too impressed about, but the attention he got was soon compensation enough. The service was short but sweet, and surprisingly there was a huge turnout. Everyone I knew in this small place came to pay their respects, and those who I didn’t even recognise.

  People had caught wind that Brynn and I had inherited the museum. Soon an excited buzz arose about it rising out of the dust it had lay in for so long, and I wasn’t sure how to answer people’s questions about it.

  Words washed over me as I sweated in my black dress, uncomfortably picking at a loose thread as I stared out to sea.

  Things were coming together, everyone was telling me, but I still felt fractured inside. My hands were better and I could now pull a decent pint again- although Brynn and Jack might disagree.

  Barry hadn’t done much for me in my childhood- this shack had been his attempt at him protecting his own family. The wake was held at Craggys, and as I looked onto the building with all of its cracks and flaws, I felt proud of the place. We had done good. I had once again overcome something that had been thrown my way.

  I briefly thought of his wife and children and stopped myself before I wondered how they were coping. It wasn’t my place- would never be my place. I picked up Ben and breathed a sigh of relief as his purr resonated through my skin.

  “You spoke to Marley, didn’t you?” I murmured to him as people laughed behind us at one of Jack’s jokes.

  Ben looked up at me with his pale golden eyes and gave me a smug, ‘I can’t talk right now,” look. I tutted and scratched behind his ear. “Whatever you did, you made that old man happy.”

  I looked up and catch Brynn staring at me. He stood in a pristine white shirt and a thin black tie. Even Calloway would approve. He walked towards me and I brushed back a rogue tendril of hair behind my ear.

  “Are you ok?” he asked with a small smile on his lips.

  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?’

&n
bsp; 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.