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We said our goodbyes, and Lola went back inside. I felt sure I was going to get some answers, though part of me—my wolf part—didn’t want answers yet. Answers meant we’d be leaving town. Leaving Ridge.
I scanned the area again, and the nagging sensation had me heading inside the library, looking for Mrs. Marrow. Something didn’t seem right, and the woman was bound to straighten everything out for me.
“Mrs. Marrow, you here???” I asked, peeking into each door. None of the doors was locked.
I came upon the records room in the back of the building the old woman had mentioned to me. Filing cabinets filled up all the wall space, with neatly handwritten dates on the labels going all the way back to the 1800s. Old newspaper clippings and papers were strewn over several of the desks in the center of the room.
I was surprised to see the disorder of everything. With this being a library and how organized the shelves and magazines were, I didn’t think Mrs. Marrow would appreciate a mess of this caliber.
One desk had a surprisingly sleek computer system. It was more tech-savvy than I’d have expected of a small-town library.
Giddiness rose inside my chest. I could possibly find something here. Not having seen or caught the librarian anywhere, I figured it wouldn’t hurt to snoop, mainly since papers were strewn everywhere. It wasn’t like I was digging through files, and this was a public library, after all. Everything here was public information.
I couldn’t wrap my head around the mess, though. Shouldn’t the papers have been put away?
Clawson was still my number-one suspect. The older woman must’ve mentioned the bird feeder out of confusion or something, but I would still do the due diligence and ensure that everything got investigated. It wouldn’t be good to pin all my doubts on the sheriff, or else I wouldn’t be any better than Ridge.
I spent a good ten minutes perusing the room, grabbing hold of certain articles, but I was surprised to find medical records of births in the county going all the way back to the town’s founding. What was so important about birth records?
I wanted to have more time, but I didn’t know when the librarian would be back. I considered jumping onto the computer and seeing if any files were saved there. It was a long shot, but with the archives held on a library computer, there could be something. Perhaps the search history hadn’t been properly deleted. These documents thrown all over the place didn’t point to a normal search by any means.
Pulling out the chair to the computer desk, I skimmed over ripped-up paper that hadn’t made it into the trash can. Curious, I picked up the pieces and pulled other scraps from the scan.
It was a ripped-up check. I put the scraps together like a jigsaw puzzle. Who would be sending the old librarian checks through the mail?
My blood ran cold and my feet itched to run before I finished piecing it all together. Fight-or-flight kicked in, and in this scenario, flight was winning. I struggled to swallow, and my breath hitched as if I had finished running a mile at full speed.
I stared at the name, at the familiar signature.
William Summers.
Why was my father sending Mrs. Marrow a check? A very healthy-sized check?
Blood drained from my face, dread gluing me to my seat. I looked around me in panic. This room had a ton of information about the town’s history and the familial lineages that showcased the birth records of every citizen—shifters included. My father wanted genealogy, of course. What easier way than to study the shifter lines? What better way than to destroy whole lineages to save the human race—as he liked to put it?
Knowing my father, he’d decimate this whole town. Not just because of the shifters but because of the abundance of humans who protected them. According to my father, humans who protected shifters were worse than the monsters themselves because they were traitors.
Fighting back the urge to be sick, I tried to gather certain documents to take to Ridge. Maybe we could piece some information together and figure out what the angle would be for the hunters to come into town.
The edges of my vision were fiery flames as I pictured my father and what he had done. He’d infiltrated this safe and loving community. Worse, Ridge and the other shifters seemed to think Mrs. Marrow had no idea about shifters and paranormal creatures. But if my father was paying her, then she was a mole, leaking information to him and the other hunters.
Speedily grabbing files, all my fears came to life. I could only think about getting to Ridge. He needed to be warned, and I needed to apologize. Why hadn’t I told him everything? He needed to know this to keep his town safe. He could’ve been better warned had I not been so self-involved. Who knew how much time we’d have to set up proper defenses?
Files in hand, I turned to leave, but then a sharp, debilitating pain struck my stomach.
Blood soaked my shirt as I stared at the supposedly kindly old librarian nobody thought to question.
Mrs. Marrow had stabbed me with a silver knife. The shock was instantaneous but fleeting as I tried to stagger back and get away from my attacker, the papers in my hands raining over us. I didn’t get far before the woman sprayed me with a wolfbane aerosol.
Screams echoed in my ears as panic bloomed in my mind. My father had trained me to be a hunter. This wasn’t going to end well for me.
My skin burned and sizzled, the stench making me retch. My wolf, in a murderous rage, forced herself to the surface.
I struggled against the pain, against the wolf trying to take over. Mrs. Marrow, the unassuming librarian, stared at me with cold eyes. In a calm, creepy, evil voice, she said, “Give in, Miss Summers. Give in.”
I swallowed the sickness that wanted to rise, but the coppery tang told me blood was rushing into my mouth.
In a flash, everything lined into place, and I trembled at the realization that this woman had probably already told my father I was here, meaning Blackwood Creek was in far more danger than I realized. The people I wanted to protect were already in his line of sight.
