The Book Lovers Club

Diana

The memory of that kiss kept me satisfied for the rest of the day, and my dreams yesterday were for once peaceful and refreshing. I woke up the next day, ready to solve a mystery though, one I could sense Martha and Michael both knew and held from me.

I was not hungry but couldn't pass up another well-tuned cup of herbal tea from Martha, my grandmother. We made casual conversation and she told me she knew I wanted to go to the library and that now was the best time to go.

I didn't tell her about my trip into the woods, not wanting to worry her, but clearly, my mother had called Martha first. I felt some annoyance, knowing my mother went behind my back to try to convince me to come home, but I understood it. Thankfully, Martha knew me well enough to know I was not ready. At least I had someone in my corner.

As I walked to the library, my mind went back to the forest, Michael, and of course, the kiss. Sending me back would be the simple thing to do, but it won't solve any of the problems I felt Michael giving off.

I was surprised that he kissed me first; he always seemed to keep his distance from me. It didn't start off that way. At first, our encounters were organic and electrifying, the tension between us was pulsing with need and yearning for sweet release, and then he pulled away, the moment gone, only to stir up again and for him to back away. It was maddening, to say the least.

The library, like everything else in this town, was cute. It looked less like a library and more like a quant bookshop, the kind you'd find tucked between a cafe and a random credit union, almost too small to count as a store and yet still filled with more books than it should logically hold.

A bell rang, signaling my arrival, and I descended the two steps to the platform leading to the front desk. A woman sat behind the desk, a book opened in her hands, her reading glasses so far down her caramel skin that I wondered if she was using them to read or if they slipped and she was too engrossed to move them.

I took in her appearance as I waited for her to acknowledge that I was standing there. Her hair was short, dyed a grayish-white color, but she was only a few years older than me, her lips painted a deep red, and long looped earrings dangled as she shook her head. I was just about to clear my throat when she lowered the book, putting it face-down on the counter.

"Sorry, things are getting real," she said, and I felt a sort of kinship hearing her American accent. My annoyance with having to wait dissipated.

"I completely understand," I chuckled as I leaned to catch the title. "I haven't heard of that one," I added, knowing the author, but not the title.

"She's got a new series. Seven brothers, gorgeous, one kingdom in ruins due to werewolves, and, of course, seven beautiful women determined not to lose their hearts in the mist of pending doom." She sighed. "I'm on book two."

She had a funny one, and clearly, this was the perfect job for her. "Speaking of werewolves…," I started but stopped when her face lighted up.

"You're here for werewolves? Oh, please follow me," she said, hopping down from her stool. She was a bit shorter than me, her dress fitting for a New York summer versus a German spring, but it bounced behind her with ease.

"I'm Maya, by the way," she introduced herself.

"Uh, Diana. Where are you from?" I asked.

"I was born in England, moved to Chicago when I was four months old, and lived there till I was sixteen. That's when my mom died. I was homeschooled so I was able to graduate early, which worked out well for me. I avoided the craziness of the foster system. I got odd jobs here and there until I had enough for a plane ticket. I've been moving around ever since. Fell in love with Bamberg though," she answered, leading me through the maze of this tiny yet expansive library. "You?"

"New York City. Public school," I said, my life sounding painfully dull in comparison.

"Cool. Okay, so here you'll find books on werewolf legends… oh this folder has new clippings of werewolf sightings throughout the world. The yellow one is for sightings right here in Bamberg," she said, biting her lip with glee. Glad to see I wasn't the only one intrigued by this topic. She gave me a wink. "Enjoy," she said before departing, no doubt eager to return to her book.

I looked over the material before me and wished I had the forethought to bring lunch. Pulling off my coat, I dove in. It didn't take me long to have a table covered with open books, news articles spread out by dates, and a sheet of paper with the number of deaths from each encounter.

"What is all this?"

I jumped when I heard Michael's voice coming up behind me.

"Geez, that is some serious stalker stealth you got going on Michael," I gasped. A man stepped beside him and I eyed him queerly, knowing his face and trying to recall where I had seen him. I pouted when it dawned on me.

"Francis, right? Good Samaritan helping me find the library?" My annoyance dripped from my words. He inclined his head.

"My apologies, simply making sure you were safe," he said.

I wanted to be mad, but it was Michael's doing. I couldn't fault Francis for doing what he was instructed to do. If it didn't make me feel like a child, I would have been grateful to the WatchGuard.

"What's all this?" Michael repeated, coming around to thumb through my hard work.

"My attack wasn't the only one here," I began.

"True, we've had several deaths in the woods prior." Michael tried downplaying my statement, but I didn't give in. I reached over to the table and grabbed a stack of news clippings.

"Look, this happened four months ago. A couple went out into the forest. Only their bloody clothes were found. And here, twin sisters from Japan, Takahashi and Michiko Omura, came here two weeks ago, looking for their brother and they haven't been seen since. They haven't been confirmed dead--but seeing as me and fifteen other guys went into the forest, only five of us came back alive. I think it's safe to bet these are deaths as well," I finished, biting my lip as I scanned my table for the next part of my speech

"And what's this?" Francis asked, pointing to my death count sheet.

"Well, it's mostly an assumption, but the number of deaths, I believe, has occurred within the last six months." I grabbed the paper and handed it to him.

"Twenty deaths." He read it.

"Yeah, most of them from this recent attack. Here, this is from a local, who says he keeps hearing howling outside his backyard, but doesn't dare seek it out. Says he's added wolfsbane to his garden for extra measure." I nodded, proud of my research and detective skills.

However, the look on Michael's face told me he was less than impressed. He groaned, running his fingers through hair that I also had the pleasure of caressing just yesterday.

"You just can't leave this alone, can you?" He cut his eyes at me. "How can I protect you if you keep running toward the fire?"

"You can protect me by telling me the truth, and then perhaps I wouldn't have to endanger myself to learn it," I snapped back. How dare he?

"Diana." He growled my name, but I refused to back down.

"Michael," I growled back at him.

So much for that kiss. I thought as he and I confronted each other, our conflicting energies were swirling in an entanglement of desire and dominance.