bonnie and damon after hours by l.j smith (best pdf reader for ebooks .TXT) đ
- Author: l.j smith
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an untold tale
bonnie and damon after hours
This is a sweet little story with some violence. Itâs
not terribly disturbing, but be warned . . .
Bonnie McCullough laboriously typed into her laptop, while reading from a pink Post-It note covered with neat round handwriting that included little circles over the iâs: The Conscience of A Queen.
It was her history report, which would determine thirty-percent of her first semester grade in European History. And she had a good idea for it, a really good idea: original, easy to understand and thought-provoking. What, so her theory ran, would have become of England if Catherine of Aragon had had not been so obedient to the husband who had disowned her, and had allied herself with Spain (where she came from in the first place) and then led these forces combined with the English who were still loyal to her to battle Henry VIIIâs army. She was advised to do so often, and only her refusal to take up arms against her husband. Catherine might have been able to establish her little daughter, Mary, successfully as heir, instead of letting Henry have his way in everything; and Henryâs second daughter, Queen Elizabeth, would never have been born.
No Queen Elizabeth! No Sir Walter Raleigh! No British Empireâprobably no America! Nothing would have happened the way it had down to modern times.
A ferociously huge pile of history books loomed over Bonnie on her right right. An equally formidable pile leaned over her from the left. Most of them had Post-Its stuck in them, where she had found evidence to help her theory.
There was only one problem, Bonnie thought, her small strawberry-curled head drooping almost to the library table. The report was due the day after tomorrow and all she had written was the title.
Somehow she had to combine the facts from these books that held evidence to uphold her theory. Other facts were waiting for her out there on the Web, represented right now by the cheerfully lit computer screen in front of her. But how, how to make a coherent paper out of them in only two days.
Of course, she could ask for an extension. But she could just imagine the look on Mr. Tannerâs face if she did so. He would embarrass her mercilessly in front of the class.
I can go without sleep for two days, Bonnie thought resolutely.
As if triggered by her thought, the lights of the library went off and then on and then repeated the cycle.
Oh, no! Ten oâclock already? And she seriously needed some caffeine. Bonnie reached toward the bag beside her, then hesitated.
Her hunches, as always, were good ones. Mr. Breyer came walking down the aisle, glancing at the study carrels left and right.
âWhyâBonnie! Are you still here?â
âApparently,â Bonnie said with a nervous laugh. Everything depended on her acting abilities right now.
âWell, but, the libraryâs closing. Didnât you see the lights?â Bonnie had heard that Mr. Breyer always whispered inside the library, even before opening and after closing time. Now she could confirm that it was true.
âMr. Breyer, I want to ask a favor,â Bonnie said, looking up at him as soulfully as she could through her brown eyes.
âWhat favor?â Now Mr. Breyer wasnât smiling anymore.
âI want,â Bonnie stood up, which at least allowed her to see Mr. Breyerâs face, âto stay in the library overnight.â
Mr. Breyer was shaking his head.
âIâm sorry, Bonnie. But the library closes at ten, no exceptions. Think youâre the only one whoâs asked me?â Mr. Breyer drew himself up, and murmured for a moment, as if counting. âWhy youâre the twenty-forth student to ask that very question.â He seemed to take some comfort in precision. He was picking up her backpack to hand it to her. Bonnie hastily took it, worried it would slosh. âAnd I told each of those who asked the same thing Iâm telling you: âThe library closes at ten, but tomorrow is another day.â
âNot for me itâs not!â Bonnie felt genuine tears flow into her eyes and over her cheeks. âOh, Mr. Breyer, I wonât go outside until morning. Iâll be locked in hereââwith all the ghosts and the spooky shadows, her mind added involuntarilyââsafe asâas anything, until tomorrow morning. Nothing can get me.â
âBut think of your poor motherââ
Bonnie shook her head. âShe thinks Iâm at a friendâs house.â
âOh, my,ââunder the brightened library lights, Mr. Breyer seemed to be considering. He even smiled. âWe used to do the same thing ourselves as children,â he murmured. âTell one parent one house and another the first house. âDouble alibi,â we called it, or sometimes âdouble dipper.ââ He was almost beaming.
âSo youâll let me stay?â Bonnie gazed up at him pathetically.
âWhat? Oh, no. No. Never. It was a most reprehensible thing to do and we were caught and thoroughly punished for it,â Mr. Breyer said, looking as if this reminiscence were as pleasant a the other.
âNo, Bonnie,â Mr. Breyer said, âIâm sure you can do some research when youâre at home. Thereâs more on the Internet than there is in all these books together,â he said, waving a hand at the books Bonnie had scattered with Post-It notes in favor of her theory about Catharine of Aragon. âBut you yourself have to be out of the library now. Pronto! Itâs six minutes after ten oâclock anyway!â He sounded horrified at his own lateness.
All right. When Plan A doesnât work, go to Plan B. âOkay, Mr. Breyer. You canât blame a girl for trying. Let me just get my pencil, and my lucky Elmo dollâthis was a small suction-cup doll that Bonnie always took with her on studying expeditions, and exams, âand Iâll go to the bathroom, and go home.â
âThe bathrooms are closed,â Mr. Breyer eyed Bonnieâs tear-streaked face uncomfortably. âBut they donât lock. I suppose you can go.â
âThank you, Mr. Breyer,â Bonnie said, looking up at him as soulfully as if this favor was as important as letting her staying overnight. She swung her backpack over one shoulder and left the study carrel. She also left a mess of crumpled papers, stubs of pencils, and old Styrofoam cups she knew Mr. Breyer wouldnât be able to resist taking to the trash in back.
A few minutes later, Bonnieâs cheerful, âGood night, Mr. Breyer,â echoed through the library, followed by the sound of the small libraryâs door shutting. Mr. Breyer himself called back, âGood night, Bonnie.â He made sure, however, as he shut the libraryâs front doors, that the bright green car Bonnie always drove was gone from the parking lot.
Bonnie, who had crept back after loudly âleavingâ to perch once again on with her feet on the seat of a toilet in the girlâs restroom, waited until the lights went out. This took a kind of courage she was seldom able to achieve. Shivering, with tears still leaking out beneath her
eyelashes, she immediately broke Rule 1 of Plan B by turning on the powerful flashlight she had in her backpack without counting to sixty. Then the darkness was bearableâalmost. But she knew Mr. Breyersâ routine from the last two nights when sheâd staked out the library after studying, and he left and went straight home like clockwork.
As soon as she got the flashlight on she tumbled out of the bathroom stall and turned on the bathroom lights. That made her feel a lot better. And when sheâd switched on the lights in the computer area at the very back of the library, she knew she was safe.
Go away! she told a worry that wouldnât leave the back of her mind. Youâve done it! Youâre fine! Now all you need is some caffeine . . . she scrabbled around in her backpack for a thermos flask that was entirely filled with the strongest coffee sheâd been able to make from heaping tablespoons of instantâand popped two No Dozes just to make sure as she took a swig. Now, youâre ready for a long, long night with these reference books. Bonnie took her shoes off, unlatched her computer determinedly, and went to work.
* * * * *
Outside, there were two dark shadows hunched over something broken and motionless on the ground.
âYou see?â one said in a guttural voice. âItâs best to come where the lines of Power cross in the ground. The meat is sweeter.â
âI do see,â the second one said, and its voice was thick because its own mouth was full of . . . something. âThe ley lines give Power to the human lifeforce.â
âSweet meatâand thereâs sweeter waiting inside there,â chuckled the guttural voice. âI know all the rules of this library. The little redheaded girl has to come out of the building before morning.â
There was a gnawing sound. âAfter these kills weâll have to go away,â the second voice whispered. âTheyâll hunt us with dogs; theyâll find our scent.â
âThey will not,â the guttural voice replied. âThey may get our scent but Iâve bought an herb-potion that will confuse the dogs. Itâs very simpleâa strong scent we sprinkle when we get to a crowd. After that everyone walks in the potionâand a dogâs nose is overwhelmed.â
The gnawing voice let out a grating laugh. âYou should know, brother! You should know about dogs!â
âNow shut up and let me eat in peace. Weâll have to move the car before too long. Itâs conspicuous.â
The gnawing voice shut up. Its owner did not want to say that it had a feeling of uneaseâof worryâat the back of its mind.
That would be stupid. They were werewolves wandering footloose in the human world, in a town where nobody knew them, no one had cause to fear them, and above all, no one had any reason to suspect what they really were.
They were invincible.
* * * * *
Despite the luxury of sinking her toes into the thick pile of the plush carpet (just under a sign that said SHOES MUST BE WORN AT ALL TIMES), Bonnie had a faint feeling of unease that wouldnât go away.
She didnât know what it was. She knewâshe could feel somehowâthat there was nobody in the library. But still, at the back of her mind, she was uneasy.
At the back of her mindâhey, that was it! All that darkness behind her. Bonnie really, really hated darkness. She knew all too well the things that she could imagine might come out of it. Although her rational mind had accepted that there were no such things as vampires, witches, werewolves, and so forth, it wasnât so sure on ghosts. She had seen a few ghosts in her lifetime and it was hard to dismiss them as remnants of dreams.
You should never have taken up book on spiritualism, her mind scolded her. Itâs given you all sorts of ideas. Now somewhere underneath you really believe that youâre psychic. Thank God you havenât told anyone so. What would Caroline and Meredith say? What would Raymond, her current boyfriend, say? Most important, what would Elena say?
But Grannie MacLachlan, who had always known where to find lost keys and lost T.V. remotes and who had always known when the
phone was going to ringâshe had looked gravely into Bonnieâs hand on her last visit over the Atlantic.
âA life full of excitement,â she had said, slowly and thoughtfully, âbut not a life of stability. And you have the Sight, my girl. Far more so than any MacLachlan before you. Add to that talents of the McCullough, andââ She had looked sharply up at Bonnie, who at age thirteen would much rather have been playing
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