The Magic Library Mysteries Collection: The Complete Series, Books 1-3

by Hillary Avis

  Allison skimmed, holding her breath. The page described how, armed with a small craft blade, Elaine had spent the whole night methodically slicing out all of Paul’s memories—she’d marked them in every book over the three-year term of her guardianship, though she hadn’t had time to peruse each one individually. She hoped to learn where Paul had hidden the magical pen, but she hadn’t found it yet. Her term of guardianship had nearly run out, so she had to cut out Paul’s memories to look at on her own time.

  “She wanted to find the pen,” Allison said aloud. “She took Paul’s memories so she could read them, not because she wanted to ruin him.”

  “We knew that,” Michelle said impatiently. “Keep going.”

  Allison turned the page, but there was nothing more to read. The next day was marked the following date and recorded how Elaine planned to turn the library over to Myra. And then—blank pages. The back of the book. The end of Elaine’s guardianship. She looked up at Michelle. “That’s it.”

  “How can that be?” Michelle grabbed the book from her and checked herself. She went over and over the pages, shaking her head and mumbling. “This can’t be it. It can’t. It has to be in here.”

  Beside her, Allison stilled, thinking. “No, it doesn’t. The murder isn’t in there because she didn’t do it. Zack did it. Now we know for sure.”

  Michelle stood up abruptly, knocking her cane to the floor, where it bounced in the plush carpet. She grunted as she stooped to pick it up and then began stalking around the perimeter of the room. “We don’t know anything for sure except that if Zack and Leroy are both in on it, we’re in more danger than I thought. You have to tell Emily what’s going on immediately, so she can get out of that man’s house. Figure out how to get her name off that property as soon as possible so they can’t meddle in her mind, and you might want to move Paul to another facility while you’re at it,” she said as she paced. “The faster we can all get out of town, the better. We can maybe rent a place in Elkhorn.”

  “You and I?” Surprised, Allison craned her neck to see her better.

  Michelle stopped and frowned at her. “I meant Taylor and me. But I suppose I could add you to the paperwork temporarily. Until you find somewhere else.”

  “I don’t think we’re cut out to be roommates,” Allison chuckled.

  “Suit yourself. But don’t blame me if your brain gets scrambled like an egg.” Michelle resumed her rounds of the room. “That’s the easy part, anyway. The hard part is what we’re going to do with the books. We have to move them somewhere safe, and it has to be here in town.”

  “The space above our old bakery is still vacant,” Allison said hesitantly. “I could give Eric a call and ask him if we can rent it back.”

  Michelle laughed harshly. “Who’s going to pay the rent? You?”

  “Do you have a better idea?”

  “No. But we need to find somewhere quickly—it will take us some time to pack and haul all the books, and time is something we don’t have. As long as Leroy and Zack can get their hands on the library, the whole town is in danger. We need to find somewhere they would never guess and leave the books in the care of a guardian they’d never suspect. If we move out of town, they won’t be able to check our memories and find out where the library is hidden, even if they make new books. That’s our only hope.”

  Allison’s chest felt tight. Michelle’s plan spelled the end of her hope, not the beginning. “Wouldn’t it be easier to put all that effort into getting the boxes back?”

  Michelle stopped in the middle of the rug and leaned on her cane with both hands as she fixed Allison with a shrewd expression. “No—because even if we do, they won’t stop. As long as they know about the memory library, they’ll try and get their hands on it. It’s the Claypool way. We might get the paper back, but it’s only a matter of time before they succeed another way. And next time, it might be Taylor or Emily who gets hurt.”

  “What if Zack was in jail, too?” Allison asked. “I can write another confession, like I did for Elaine. If they were both locked up, they wouldn’t be a threat. Or I could just remove both their memories of everything!”

  Michelle’s face twisted with disgust. “You’re no better than they are. What’s the point of protecting the library from abuse if you’re just going to do it yourself?”

  “It’s different!” Allison rose from her seat in protest. Michelle rolled her eyes, clearly skeptical. “It is. I’m only doing it to protect people. To protect the library. I’m not trying to hurt anyone or gain anything for myself.”

  Michelle raised an eyebrow. “Really, nothing at all? You’re just adding memories and tearing out pages for the common good?”

  Allison nodded slowly, even as a thread of guilty conscience wove its way through the fibers of her being. She wasn’t being wholly truthful—she very much wanted Paul’s memories back for herself as much as for him. But that wasn’t the only reason. And anyway, he didn’t lose those memories naturally. Elaine had done that to him, deliberately, callously, and if the diary was to be believed, without much thought for the consequences. It wasn’t immoral to want to put that right again. She opened her mouth to say that, but Michelle spoke before she could get the words out.

  “Prove it.”

  “I’m sorry?” Allison shook her head, confused.

  “Prove that you have the library’s best interest at heart. Tell Emily everything and choose a new guardian. When you’ve done those two things, then we’ll talk.”

  “Grandma?” Taylor’s sleepy voice filtered into the living room from where he stood at the bottom of the stairs, one hand still on the rail. “What’s going on?”

  “Did we wake you?” Michelle clucked her tongue and bustled to the entryway, shooing him back upstairs. “We were just chatting.”

  “Are the puppies OK?” he squinted past Michelle to where Allison stood in front of the sofa.

  “They’re fine,” she assured him. “They’re sleeping.”

  “As you should be! Go on now. Up you go,” Michelle said tartly. She started up after him, her hitching gait painfully slow. “Mrs. Rye will see herself out.”

  Chapter 21

  Tuesday

  “I can’t believe you!” Emily screeched. Allison held the phone away from her ear. “You stole Elaine’s stuff?!”

  Allison grimaced. When she woke up, she’d had four angry voicemail messages from Emily. She’d waited until she was fully caffeinated and the puppies had been fed and exercised before she called her back, dreading the conversation. But it was still going worse than she’d anticipated.

  “It wasn’t stealing,” she corrected. “I was trying to return the things Elaine took from Michelle. It’s not stealing if you’re giving it back to the rightful owner, is it?”

  “Mother, it is stealing if you use bolt cutters in the dead of night. Why in the world?! Now law enforcement is involved—again! And we have another set of legal problems to add to the first one.”

  “You say that like it was my fault Elaine went crazy and attacked me. I’m just trying to set things right.”

  “Well, you’re going about it all wrong. If you knew there were stolen items in the storage unit, you should have just asked Zack about it. He would have just given them to you.”

  “I doubt that,” Allison said wryly. Then, realizing she couldn’t put it off any longer, she gave a resigned sigh. “I have some bad news, Em. There are some things you need to know about Zack, and I’m sorry to say that they’re going to mean the end of your relationship. I can drive up and help you pack today, if you want. I have the day off work.”

  Emily groaned. “Zack’s right—the engagement sent both of our moms off their rockers. We’re thinking about eloping just to see if that cures you.”

  A seed of panic germinated inside Allison, and she sat up straight in her chair. “No! You can’t!”

  “I’m an adult and I can do what I want. And what I want for you right now is to hang up the phone and call a therapist.”
Emily’s voice was cool and clinical, her doctor voice. “Until you get your head on straight, I don’t want to hear from you.”

  “Please, you have to believe me. It’s not safe to stay with Zack. He’s the one who killed the Robinsons, not Elaine. I’ll tell you everything when I get there, OK? You’ll understand more when you hear the whole story. I’m getting in the car now.” She rose and gathered her purse, checking it for her keys before heading toward the front door. “When does your shift at the hospital end? I’ll meet you there. You can’t go home alone.”

  “If you show up at my place of work, I will call the cops on you, I swear to God.”

  Allison stopped where she stood, halfway down the front walk, fear blooming in her chest. “Then listen to me now, on the phone,” she begged. “Hear what I have to say before you make a decision. Then we’ll see where we can go from there.”

  “No. I’m going to tell you where it’s going to go. Zack and I are getting married, whether you like it or not. As crazy as Elaine is, at least she’s not trying to break up our relationship!”

  “Oh no, she’d love it if you got married. Then her plan would be complete,” Allison said bitterly.

  “Her plan?! She’s mentally ill, Mom. She told Zack that his family used to own a magical library and she’s on some kind of mission to get it back. That’s why she broke into your house, apparently, because she believed you were hiding magical items that belonged to Zack. It’s totally nuts. She has a delusion, not a plan.”

  Allison sighed and rubbed the knot of pain that had formed in the center of her forehead. Michelle was right again. She should have shared with Emily earlier, before Zack poisoned her against the truth. It was just so hard to kiss Paul’s memories goodbye, because it meant kissing her whole life goodbye. “Unfortunately, Elaine isn’t crazy. That’s what I’ve been trying to say. It’s all true. Well, except the part about the magical items belonging to Zack. They aren’t his, they’re yours. That’s why Elaine wants you guys to marry, to consolidate the power of your two families.”

  “Have you had your water tested?” Emily asked abruptly.

  “What does that have to do with anything?”

  “There must be some environmental toxin in the water supply. Lead, maybe? Or some agricultural contaminant?” Emily’s voice was cool and detached, like she was talking to someone else, or to herself. “That would explain everything. Why Elaine lost her marbles, why you’re both having the same delusions. You both live there.”

  “Because they’re not delusions,” Allison said patiently. “It’s true. Next time you come down to visit Dad, I’ll prove it to you. Anyway, Elaine broke into my house when she was still living in Portland.”

  “Residual effects from her years in Remembrance, maybe. I’ll bring a test kit. We can send it to the state lab. In the meantime, switch to bottled water, OK?”

  “It’s not the water, Em. It’s—”

  “I have to go—promise me you’ll stop drinking tap until I see you again?”

  “If I do that, will you listen to me?”

  “I always do, Mom. But for God’s sake, don’t steal anything else.” Emily ended the call.

  So much for filling her in. Instead of showing Emily the full picture, Allison had just eroded her own credibility. Well, the magic of the books was undeniable. If she showed Emily how they worked, she’d have to believe the library—and the threats against it—were real. But would she believe that Zack was one of the bad guys, too?

  That seemed less likely.

  Allison traced the wood grain on the smooth tabletop like a labyrinth, a thoughtless meditation. She caught herself, clutching her fingers to her palm when she realized what she was doing. It was Paul’s gesture, an outward manifestation of how he wandered, bewildered, through the dark spaces of his mind without the compass of memory to show him the way. She shouldn’t feel so lost, not when her mind was still intact. Not when her family was still intact.

  “HI, I’M ALL—” BUT BEFORE Allison could get out her usual greeting, Paul enveloped her in a hug, pinning her arms to her sides.

  “I know who you are,” he murmured against the top of her head. He let her go and she pulled him back, clinging to him like a drowning person. He chuckled. “OK, then. If you insist.”

  “I do.”

  He leaned in, sliding one arm around her waist to pull her toward him. The other hand twisted in her hair, sending tingles racing across her scalp. She’d missed this more than anything, this kind of closeness. She didn’t know how much she’d missed it until that exact moment, pressed against him from shoulder to knee. He’d softened in the last two years, without the regular workout that was running a bakery, but his body was still so familiar, like a rock worn smooth by running water.

  Her cheek pressed to the hollow of his shoulder, she took a deep, shuddering breath and let it out again. “I told Emily everything. Or I tried to.”

  “I take it that it didn’t go well.” She felt the rumble of Paul’s words through his chest.

  She pulled back slightly to look up at him. “She thinks I’m crazy.”

  He laughed and ruffled her hair before he let her go. “It’s true, though.”

  “It does sound crazy, especially over the phone,” Allison agreed, giggling in spite of herself at his mischievous expression. “I’m hoping it’ll all seem more plausible once she’s here and can see the books for herself. And when you can back up my story.”

  Paul’s face split into a full grin. “Oh, I’m the character witness? The guy whose mind broke and can’t remember his own family? Good luck with that.”

  “It’s you and Elaine backing up my story, and right now, you’re the sanest among us.” Allison made a face at him. “You know, Emily made me promise not to drink the tap water. That’s her theory—the Remembrance municipal water supply infected me and Elaine with the same delusions. We’re so nuts, it must be poison or a brain amoeba or something.” Her mouth twisted as she tried to hold back a rising tide of hopelessness.

  Seeming to sense her swell of emotion, Paul slung an arm around her shoulder and squeezed. “Hey. Kids always think their parents are nuts.”

  “Maybe I am nuts.”

  “Welcome to the nuthouse.” Paul grinned at her and then, spying the tears leaking down her cheeks, gently kissed them away, smoothing back the flyaway hairs that stuck in the dampness. “Don’t cry. Not yet.”

  “What if I can’t convince Emily to leave him? What if she believes Zack that I’m just out of my mind? She’s in danger, Paul.”

  “If she won’t get rid of him, we’ll get rid of him,” he said stoutly.

  She pulled back again to check his face for any hint of a joke, but his eyes were dead serious. “You’re talking about killing him?!”

  “No, I wouldn’t ask that of you. But what if we did to him what they did to me?” He held her gaze steadily. “Just—erase her. From his mind. Like they never met.”

  She couldn’t hold eye contact longer than a few seconds without losing her composure even further. Staring at the quilt on his bed instead, she said, “That’s worse, I think. She’ll grieve more. She’ll try and use her medical knowledge to cure him, and every time she tries and fails to get him back, it’ll be a loss as painful as death. Living that failure every day wears you down to nothing. Ask me how I know.”

  He gave a deep sigh. “Emily’s young. She’ll get over it—eventually. We can’t let her marry him.”

  That much was true. Allison gnawed her lip, thinking. She’d promised Michelle that she wouldn’t meddle in the memory books, but what could Michelle do about it? Kick her out of the library and install a new guardian? She was going to do that, anyway.

  “Maybe I don’t have to tear out his memories,” Allison mused aloud. “Maybe I can just add a few.”

  Paul raised his head. “What’s that?”

  “It’s time to write another confession.”

  Chapter 22

  Taylor crossed his arms, narrowing his eyes
as he stared at her across the dining room table. “You didn’t let them out in time.”

  Allison gritted her teeth, her eagerness to get back to the books wearing her patience thin. Taylor had shown up just when she sat down to write Zack’s confession into Leroy’s memory, and she itched to finish the task. Plus, she was hungry. “I know. I was in a hurry, and I just—”

  “It’s important!” he flared. “Every two hours, minimum. If you can’t do it, you should call me to come over.”

  “I’m not made of money,” she snapped, and instantly regretted it when she saw Taylor’s injured expression and quivering lower lip. “Oh, don’t listen to me. I’m sorry for letting you down.”

  “For letting them down.” He glared across the table at her.

  “Can I make it up to you with some cookies?” She pushed back her chair and stood waiting for his answer. Manufacturing memories could wait a few more minutes.

  “Can I help?”

  She nodded, and together they collected what they needed from the pantry and fridge. She stood back and let him take the lead, measuring the dry ingredients as she told him the amounts from the recipe, even though it meant a little more gritty sugar on the floor and flour dusted on every surface.

  “Now the eggs.” She smiled when she saw the tip of his tongue poke from the corner of his mouth as he cracked the shells into a separate bowl and then whisked them together. “Good, now add it to the sugar and butter mixture.”

  “This takes too many steps,” he complained, his hands trembling with care as he poured one bowl into the other. A dollop of egg slopped from the edge of the bowl onto the counter and he grunted with frustration and banged the bowl down. “I always mess things up! Now it’s ruined.”

  “It’s fine.” She swooped it up with a paper towel. “That’s how you get better. Mistakes just mean you’re learning. I bet your grandma says that to you all the time.”