Kidnapping the Classics: Book 2 of the Mari Fable Mysteries by Emily Fluke

Author:Emily Fluke [Fluke, Emily]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2022-04-04T16:00:00+00:00

“Maybe it’s simply a quincy-dinner,” Scarlet said.

I pinched my brow and rolled my eyes to the left, trying to piece together her minced word. “A coincidence?”

“That’s what I said.” She edged around me and reached for the book. It slid off the shelf with ease and presented real pages with illustrations and chapters.

“I don’t believe in coincidences,” I said as I stared at the book. She fanned through the pages. The snarling, blood-covered canines struck me first. Scarlet stopped at the picture of the wolf, the book falling open in her palms. The black-and-white image matched Jameson’s face when he was the wolf, right down to the tuft of fur missing on the right side of his jaw that had snagged on a branch in Pioneer Park.

“You don’t believe?” Scarlet prodded. Her finger landed on the picture, tracing the familiar features of the man I’d killed. AKA the wolf who’d hunted me. All the fear and confusion and relief rushed back to me and I wanted to run to my mother to apologize for ignoring whatever story from which she belonged. But she didn’t know the story cycle. I did. Not believing wasn’t an option anymore. I needed to want this so I could see the glow around my mother and find the character who’d framed her once and for all.

A slice of pain cut across my forehead. The pulse of my heart throbbed behind my eyes as light burst into the room. The skylight didn’t shine any brighter, nor did a lamp flick on. I resisted the urge to clap or call for Google’s Alexa to turn off the light. But this wasn’t technology. Hundreds of thousands of books glowed in blazing reds and brilliant yellows. There were as many shades of colors as there were books. The light grew more and more intense until I squeezed my eyes shut.

The thin skin of my eyelids couldn’t shadow the story aura. The stories forced their way into my mind. I swayed and shot my hand out, reaching for Scarlet. I heard her gasp but blinded, dizzy, and weak, my knees buckled before I could grip her arm.

I came to on the floor. The hardwood dug into the bone on my hip and shoulder, but a soft fabric cushioned my head. My shoulder popped as I moved from the fetal position to sitting with my legs crossed. Scarlet’s sweatshirt lay in a bundle where my head had been and smelled faintly of the detergent I used mixed with the salty scent of sweat. I made a quick mental note to teach Scarlet how to do laundry.

Across the room, Wendy squealed and took a tentative step toward Scarlet. She held onto the shelf until Scarlet peeled her chubby fingers from the smooth wood and guided my toddler’s steps in a little circle.

“I believe in you.” Scarlet knelt and tickled Wendy’s tummy until my daughter giggled and plopped on her behind. Wendy noticed me awake and crawled across the room, wearing holes in the knees of her stretchy blue pants.

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