Chapter 5

   Evelynne marched the little buck-toothed trespasser back to the library, passing a very confused Tracy on the way. The boy's eyes widened as he saw the old rifle, and Tracy smirked half-apologetically as she held it pointed in the air. Good grief..  does this sort of thing happen all the time?

   Once inside, Evelynne sat him down at the table and unceremoniously plunked a cup of tea in front of him. She stood with her arms crossed, wearing the same impatient "Start talking, Kid" expression on her face as the morning she met Evelynne. The kid just blanked, and stared at his tea as if anything that wasn't soda or instant-juice-drink was poison. As Tracy walked in on the scene after hanging up the rifle, she felt a pang of sympathy for him. "Miss O'Brian certainly excels at making memorable first impressions." she thought to herself.

   "So what's your name?" Tracy asked, as cheerfully as she could. "Travis Miller." He answered, dragging his feet a little on his words a little as he peered around. "Great, Travis," she continued, "My name is Tracy. Listen, I know you didn't mean to cause any trouble, but you gotta' tell us what you were up to over here. It's O.K. I promise, we're not as psycho as we look." Evelynne shot over a reproachful look that made Tracy twitch. Travis didn't seem to notice. "I told you, I'm a paying customer." he answered, "I think my brother was murdered, and--"

   "No."

   Evelynne's answer silenced the room so that you could hear a pin drop. "I don't investigate murders." she explained, "Take that case to the police where it belongs. No court will convict a killer based on some psychic reading, anyway." The kid jumped up out of his seat in a flash of anger. His hot cheeks made his freckles stand out furiously. "You're not even listening!" he shouted, "Why would I want to hire you if the cops could help me! You're like a totally last resort!" "Nice," she sneered back, "As flattering as that is, the answer is no. Go home. Tracy, call him a cab?" The kid glared. "This is bullsh--" "Watch your mouth with your elders, boy."

   "Um, Miss O'Brian, where's the phone?" Tracy asked, in a can-you-help-me-in-the-kitchen tone of voice. Travis sat there and sulked as the two women stepped into the other room. "Miss O'Brian, WHY?" Tracy whispered, once they were out of his earshot, "This kid just wants your help. He lost his brother, for crying out loud. I thought this is what you do."

   "Sorry, sweetheart," Evelynne whispered back, "I know it sounds harsh, but I don't do murders. That just opens up a whole new can of worms that I do not want to deal with."

   "but Miss O'Brian--"

   "NO. You don't even know what you're asking, here. I could get in a lot of trouble knowing things that technically only the murderer is supposed to know. Not to mention a whole host of other dangers that come from trying to read the scene of a violent death. I could get hurt. It's not worth it."

   "He probably wasn't even murdered! The kid already went to the cops. If there was foul play, they would have found out in their investigation. Right? He's probably just scared, and upset, and wants some kind of closure."

   "I'll give him the number of a nice psychiatrist, then. I'm sorry. I can't help him. Call the cab."

   Tracy didn't say another word as she looked up the number, and made the call. Evelynne went back in the other room, not minding her. She had a feeling Tracy would think she was a little harsh, but that's too bad. No way was she putting her neck on the line.

   Yet, when she walked into the other room, she caught a glimpse of the kid before he knew he was being watched. His back was turned, and he was looking down at the floor as he waited. It wasn't anything specially dramatic or pathetic, but Evelynne could sense one thing as clear as day; hopelessness. He was thoroughly convinced that something happened to this brother of his, and had thoroughly exhausted any means he had of finding out what. Evelynne silently groaned...  rrgh..  sometimes that damn conscience thing is annoying.

   "So," Evelynne began, still trying to keep up appearances with a pale imitation of the annoyed tone in her voice from before, "How exactly do you plan to pay for me?" The boy's eyebrows perked up. "I inherited a little bit from my brother," he answered optimistically, "Does this mean you're gonna' do it?" Evelynne took a notebook out of her blouse-pocket, and marked down a couple notes as she spoke. "It means I'll take a look. I can't make any promises about anything else. Especially considering, chances are, there's nothing there."

   On the other side of the door, Tracy was listening in as Travis told Evelynne what he already knew. She did a little victory dance in her own head. Maybe Miss O'Brian wasn't quite as grumpy and unsympathetic as she seemed. Besides, this would be Tracy's first investigation, and she was looking forward to finally getting her adventure after all.

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Chapter 4

Miss O'Brian's Library: Chapter 4

   Tracy was dumbstruck. It was true, of course. She knew before she set foot in the door that her job would be dangerous. Evelynne had made a sort of mixed reputation for herself in the nearby town. It was a delightful little chunk of mountains that was home to history, hippies, bikers, and good old boys. Add to it a city council that closely resembled a family tree, and you got a lot of people who wanted to know what the next guy was all about....   and a lot of next guys who didn't want anyone to find out. The place teetered on the brink of wanting to use Evelynne to their advantage, and wanting to run her out of town before she causes any more trouble. Naturally anyone who attached themselves to Evelynne was walking into the same kind of trouble.

   That didn't deter Tracy in the slightest. She was young enough to still be invincible, and "trouble" directly translated to "adventure" in her head. In other words, she was asking for it.

   What really caught her off guard was how quickly Evelynne saw through her. It wasn't her words alone (though, the casually direct way she ran on through her speech detailing the safety procedures was a bit eerie. Wait, you want me to wear what under my blouse?!) but the way she seemed to answer Tracy's questions before they were even asked, and make guesses as if they were deduced from years of having known her habits and quirks. She was good..  but an entirely different kind of good than Tracy had expected. It was almost as if reciting the safety protocol was merely a pretense--  something she was using to keep the girl's attention while she read her like a book.

   "That's pretty good, Kiddo. You catch on quickly." Evelynne's voice changed pace out of nowhere to say; instantly snapping Tracy out of her daydream-like wondering. "Just remember that's an easy one, and I'm not the only one who can do it by a long-shot. So your best bet is to keep your eyes open.. stay alert. Always... remember.. to... focus......." Her voice trailed off as her eyes wandered to something far behind Tracy, and squinted to focus into the distance. Tracy turned to see one of a row of little red LED lights burning bright on a panel on the wall.

   "What does that one mean?" Tracy asked

   "Means someone is coming up on the property from the southwest side.. that's out of the woods, not through the gate." Evelynne kicked into gear, sliding around the table, and heading for the door. On her way through it, she grabbed the antique-looking rifle hanging on the wall that Tracy just now realized wasn't just for show.

   Tracy grabbed a fork. She didn't know why, or what good a fork would do if there was a real goon out there, but in her split-second frantic grabbiness it felt better than being empty-handed. She scrambled to keep up with Evelynne, who was already halfway up the outer staircase that wrapped around the building.

   The view from the roof was interesting. Tracy could see, now, that the property had been set up so that anyone standing on the roof could see anyone who came close to approaching it. The land was clear of tall trees, and the roads were cleverly bordered so that there were only two paths by which a vehicle could get close to the building. Even the steps in front of the building were a subtle defense designed to force visitors to approach on foot. Tracy was sure that if she got the chance to look hard enough, some certain off-pattern patches of land would prove to be booby traps or pitfalls to catch any intruders who made it past the initial deterrents. God! this woman must be paranoid as hell..

   There was no time to look for booby traps now, though, as Tracy quickly swept her eyes to the southwest. Here, the trees crept onto the property closer to the building than any other place, leaving only a short expanse of plain grass and a ten-foot drop-off between the wooded area and the porch. A figure with a mass of yellow hair on top of its head, wearing a big blue hoodie and basketball shorts stumbled out of the trees.

   "Don't take another step." Evelynne's voice rang out....  but her lips didn't move. The sound was coming from a speaker about twenty feet to their right. Tracy spied her boss click a button on a remote up her sleeve. "You're on private property. I've called the Police. (The click-clack of a shotgun played over the speaker) And if I were you I'd behave 'till they got here."

   The figure put its hands in the air, as if to surrender, and turned to face the speaker. As it did, the yellow mop tumbled away from its face, revealing a buck-toothed, boyish face with more freckles than was good for it. He stood up straight, a runty little thing that couldn't have been more than eleven years old. He huffed and puffed, and his voice coughed out the words as if his lungs were full of dust. "Geez, lady!! Hck..  Ya coulda' just gone with 'Damn kids git off my lawn!'"

   Evelynne rolled her eyes like a teenager, as she slumped her shoulders, and handed off the rifle to Tracy to get it out of the way. Tracy took it awkwardly, pointing it out of the way, and absentmindedly trading her the fork. Evelynne slipped silently down from the porch, fork in hand, to approach the boy. "Then Dammit, Kid," She shouted in annoyance, brandishing the fork like an old crank, "Git off my lawn!"

   Seeing that the "shotgun" was nowhere to be found, the boy took a brave step forward, with his hands still in the air. "Hold on a minute, I thought this was a book store." He protested, once he caught his breath, "That's public, ain't it?"

   "Not on this side it ain't," Evelynne asserted, pointing with her oh-so-menacing fork for emphasis, "You come in through the front driveway, and enter the front shop, or else you're trespassing on my personal property."

   "Is that.. is that a fork?" The boy took a couple more steps forward, reaching out to tag the dinky little piece of silverware. Evelynne dismissively tossed it away, and caught him by the ear. "A'right, ya little wise ass, state your business. Does your mother know you're here?"

   He squirmed and twisted. "Ow.. OW! Hey! Is this how you treat a paying customer?!"

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Chapter 3

Miss O'Brian's Library Chapter 3

   Tracy triptrapped in like a ball of neon sunshine, decked out in an outfit that sharply contrasted with Miss O'Brian's conservative blouse and skirt. Evelynne looked her over quickly, bottom to top; beholding black tennis shoes with neon green accents, bright pink fishnets, and a black-and-neon hoodie over a tutu'd pink dress with black tulle at the trims. Neon tipless gloves and headband to match the shoes and sweater topped it all off, giving the whole thing gave a punk-ballerina-playing-tennis effect. It brought a kind of foreign presence to the antiquated little book-nook that made Evelynne shift in her seat a bit.

   "Welcome back Tracy, and pull up a chair." She said, shrugging off the awkward feeling.

   Tracy, of course, did so, crunching down the seat of her ruffly skirt. "So......." She said, as she emptied a couple packets of sugar into her cup, "Where do we start today? Any ongoing investigations I should know about? Any special rules?"

   "Tea first." Evelynne answered, "Then I can start to show you around. I haven't got any open cases right now.. but if you have any questions that weren't covered in the letter I sent you, feel free to ask."

   Tracy hesitated, taking a sip, before she looked up and spoke. "...Can I ask you about your powers?"

   Evelynne swallowed a sigh. She'd been deliberately vague in the letter she sent to Tracy. She'd stayed up a couple hours later than usual trying to carefully outline what to expect without doing more than hinting about what her exact abilities were. The truth is, she didn't like to talk about it. Only a handful of people really believed her, and they tended to either fanatically hate it or fanatically love it. Tracy didn't mean any harm by her curiosity; that she could tell. Still, Evelynne found herself choosing her words very carefully as she explained.

   "Have you ever seen something, and not known what you were looking at?" She began, dinging her spoon rythmically against her glass as she stirred her tea, "Like when you pull out an instruction book, and you just kind of stare at it for a few seconds before you figure out you opened it to the Spanish language section?"

   Tracy nodded along. "Yeah? I guess so.."

   "Well, it's kind of like that. You receive messages that you don't understand. Maybe you can pick out one or two words of them, depending on whether you know what you're looking for, but mostly it's just... it takes some doing. Just like learning a language. I don't know the whole language yet.. but it's there."

   "So.. you're not psychic. Well I mean you are.. but not all the way?"

   "Something like that."

   "So the zoning out.. the moving things.. the.... How did you word that again? 'Potential interference to surrounding parties'? What's that about? Is that because you're only, like, half psychic?"

   Evelynne shook her head. "That's different. That's a control issue. Noisy things like that don't happen as often as they do in the movies, though. I just don't believe in leaving out the worst case scenarios."

   They sipped their tea silently. Awkwardly. It was the closest thing to a social setting Evelynne had been in since.. she didn't remember when, and you wouldn't need psychic powers to sense that. She pulled herself up and cleared away the empty cups after they finished. Then, she pushed the table up on its hinge, locking it back into its panel on the wall. "Most of the work will be less glamorous; alphabetizing books, going into town for packages, scoping out unfamiliar locations. Of course it won't be completely without risk, so I'll be teaching you to shoot, and to moniter the security systems of the library. Do you have a concealed weapons permit?"

   Tracy blinked, with a blank expression on her face. "I.. I don't believe in violence.."

   "Good, neither do I, but there are some crazies out there who aren't quite as nice as you and me, and you know as well as me that a good few of them have an axe to grind against me. Better safe than sorry."

   "Miss O'Brian.. You didn't hire an assistant. Did you?" Tracy suggested cautiously, "You hired a.. a security guard!"

   O'Brian nodded slowly. "You didn't say no."

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Chapter 2

Miss O'Brian's Library Chapter 2

   Tracy's first day started bright and early... for Evelynne. It was Ten O'Clock, and Miss O'Brian was busy organizing things in preparation for the lady she'd hired to help organize things. Don't look at me like that. It made sense in her mind. She really was a neat freak at heart, but study and rest trumped cleaning on her priority list.

   Today, though, she made sure the library was the cleanest little mess in the world. The whole place had been dusted from top to bottom, and any books left lying about were carefully tossed into the rolling wire baskets at the end of each row. She tested each of the ladders, climbing up and down them, and rocking back and forth on the top. The sturdy ones were placed in a nice little line in the corner, and the creaky, untrustworthy ones went into the dark little storage closet. The storage closet... would wait until later. The thick braided rugs that covered the dinged up hardwood floor were smoothed out and straightened. All the windows were cleaned with rubbing-alcohol.... and then opened so that the library wouldn't smell like rubbing alcohol.

   She tackled her desk next. It was a big, solid, oak desk that had been lovingly custom made by a skilled carpenter. The shape was like a giant octagon with a side missing, and the middle hollowed out, so that it was really like seven desks. The first three sections on the left had tall cabinets arching over the writing surface. The next section had a platform that could raise and tilt at an angle like a drafting table. The next had a rack that was perpetually covered with papers, and the next a computer and a bucket full of flash-drives. The last section had a thick, embroidered pillow lying on top.

   Evelynne plucked up the pillow, and tucked it under her arm with the blanket that she'd taken from the top of the chair. She climbed the ladder to the loft in her office (Which creaked, by the way, but she didn't bother to replace it. Tracy can't sue her for falling off a ladder she doesn't climb...), and threw the bedding in a drawer. Before heading down, she paused, and went back to intentionally muss the blankets on her bed up there to make it look like she actually slept in it.

   She looked in the vanity mirror beside her bed one more time. Her hair had been brushed smooth, and neatly tied back in a thick french braid that she was particularly proud of. (Have you ever tried to french braid your own hair? It's hard.) Her thin, draping blouse tucked into a knee-length belted skirt in a rough, warm fabric that matched her warm blazer. Her light scarf was wound attractively around her neck under her blazer. The pinkish tones of her makeup perfectly matched the autumn colors of the rest of her ensemble, even if they didn't quite hide the crow's feet and other lines from lack of sleep that had started to make their presence a little more obvious lately. Hmmh. Ahh well. We can't all be fresh daisies anymore.

   It was right about then when she heard the bells on the front door jangling, as it swung open. Evelynne flew down the ladder in two leaps like a ten-year-old bounding down from a jungle-gym. Her chunky boot heels THUNKED on the wooden floor like a sledgehammer when she landed, and clunked in a steady beat as she dashed into the other room. CREEAK went the table, as she pulled it down from its panel on the wall, like a cupboard that opens side-ways and locks into place. She was just in time to set two steaming cups of tea on the table as Tracy entered the room.

   "Hello there, Tracy." Evelynne said, trying not to sound like she just ran a marathon, "Pardon the mess."

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Chapter 1

Miss O'Brian's Library Chapter 1 Biiinnnnnnggg....... Biiiiiiiiiinnnnnnggg...........    Rrgg.. what is that horrible ringing? What time is it? Why are those blinds still open? Damn it, it's too early for sunshine..    Evelynne fished through the papers on her desk for the little clock-radio that never seems to be around when she wants to see it. After sucessfully mixing up all her notes, and knocking a few weighty books to the floor, she spied something flashing red behind a thin piece of tracing paper. Ah-ha!    She plucked the piece of paper out of the way, and stared at the clock in dismay. Seven-thirty? Who in the bloody blue blazes gets up at this ungodly hour, let alone drives five miles into the middle of Forsaken-Nowhere USA to go to a book store?    Technically the shop was supposed to open at seven. The sign on the door, and the message on the answering machine both still clearly said so, but those were posted years ago. Nobody really went by those anymore, because everyone who bothered to come around these days knew not to expect Evelynne to be awake a minute before twelve O'clock. Evelynne herself never bothered to change the postings. Bingbingbingbing-biiiiinnnnnnnnnggggg......    Yes. Yes, I do hear you out there. I'm coming. No.. not because you keep ringing that bell (although that sounds just lovely, please don't stop), but because this had better be a real emergency. Seven-thirty.. good lord... somebody better be dead.    Heh.    Irony. That's funny.    Evelynne fumbled down the stairs, barely keeping from tripping over her scarf. Looking at her reflection in the little mirrors along the stair's wall, she quickly pushed back her messy auburn hair into a shape that was somewhat acceptable, as she made her way down.    The base of the stair lead right behind the front desk, and when she got there, she caught sight of the bell-ringer. The woman.. girl, really.. stood up perfectly straight on the oppisite side of the desk, and flicked the bell once more with perky enthusiasm. She looked like one of those "hip" teenage fashion-dolls, only without the perpetual snobby pout. The sunshine blazing through the window shone directly on her bright pink hair, lighting it up like a lava-lamp.    "Oh. Hi," she chirped in a chipper voice, "Is Miss O'brian here?"    "I'm Miss O'brian." Evelynne answered patiently.    "Oh!" the girl twittered nervously, flipping her flourescent hair "I'm sorry, I just saw your wedding-ring.. and then well I thought you'd be much younge--"    Evelynne cleared her throat, and drummed the counter with her fingernails. "Is there something I can help you with, Ma'am?"    The girl awkwardly continued. "Of course.. yes... um. I'm here about the job opening, the one posted in the paper..."    "You're here for a job interveiw? Now? ...and why didn't you call first?"    "Well you're psychic, right? I thought you'd be expecting me anyway, so I didn't want to bother you with something silly like that. I know it's a little late, but I heard you liked your sleep, so I figured I'd give you a half an hour to drink your coffee.. or.. or your tea... or... whatever it is... you.... drink........."    Evelynne's patience was ticking down like the precious minutes of shut-eye she wasn't getting. The young lady on the other side of the counter pursed her lips shut, as she began to notice that her prospective employer was not amused. The two stood silent for a minute before Evelynne slowly leaned forward, resting one arm on the counter.    "It doesn't work that way," Evelynne began, "And I would be happy to explain it to you, if I hadn't already wasted my breath explaining it to every other delusional wannabe who wanted me to guess his birthday, or talk to his dead cat, or tell her the name of her true love. Don't think I don't hear your friends goading you on at the other end of the phone, with your death-metal playing in the background, when you guys call me up.    "'Ooh! I'm gonna' be a psychic's assistant and she's gonna' teach me to talk to the dead!' and 'Ohh! Maybe I'll make friends with her and she'll help me win the lottery!' Well guess what, Goth-Barbie, I'm sick an' tired of it. Forget the ad. I'm takin' it down tomorrow. I'll file my own goddamn paperwork, and run my own goddamn errands, before I answer another one of those goddamn phone calls!"    The girl stepped back, smiling nervously as Evelynne finished her rant. "Well," she squeaked in response, "It's a good thing I didn't call you on the phone after all?"    "Get out of my store!!" Evelynne roared as she pointed emphatically toward the exit.    "Miss O'brian wait! Wait! I'm sorry, I was wrong about you, OK, but you were wrong about me too! I'm not just here to win the lottery, or impress my friends, or talk to my dead cat. Just listen!"    Evelynne folded her hands on the desk, and listened with an air of annoyed tolerance as the girl carried on.    "I'm not one of those teenagers just like you're not one of those psychics! It's just that.. well.. I've heard about what you do, and I think it's amazing. Besides, I really need this job, and I don't care if I'm just folding your laundry all day or something. Just please gimmie a chance?"    By this time, Evelynne's expression had softened. She took a second to look the girl up and down. Well she was ignorant.. and annoying.. and way too chipper for this hour.. but at least she did try to be thoughtful. And she did seem to be pretty serious about the job.    "What's your name?" Evelynne finally asked.    "Tracy Masters." the girl's quick reply.    "Tracy Masters.. you from around here, Tracy?"    "No. I came out from the downtown area over near the college."    "From the college? That's clear across town.. You mean to tell me you're going to come from there to here every day?"    Tracy nodded as matter-of-factly as if Evelynne had asked if she meant to make her bed in the morning. Evelynne couldn't help but smirk. "All right, kid, if you think you know what you're getting yourself into I'm willing to give you a shot. I'm warning you though; no funny-business."    "No funny business." Tracy parroted back with a nod.

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