Izoven: Song of Fire ✓

Chapter 4

Two long days and over a thousand pages of text later, Emery had run out of fuel. After reading through a decade and a half of files, she aimlessly read the more recent ones, trying to find something—anything—that'd be helpful. But there was nothing. The papers no longer talked about anything related to the fires or her grandparents. People moved on. The news moved on. And the mysteries were left forgotten.

Other than a few other abnormal fires with no casualties, there was nothing of note. The newspaper reported Grandpa Joey's death just as she remembered it. The real mystery was Mama Emma's death, but she had no evidence or intel to figure that one out. Emery even tried asking around town about her grandparents, but everyone said they didn't know them that well or that it was so long ago, they barely remembered.

The mysterious mark had yet to turn up anywhere. Seeing as the newspapers weren't useful, she'd started browsing through the mythology and theology section. That wasn't proving useful either.

Melinda Simmons hadn't made an appearance to open the door to the cellar. Nor had anyone opened it again.

And so her list of failures grew longer and longer. Her younger self would've been so disappointed at this sad misadventure. This trip was a major flop.

Emery let out a loud groan before letting her forehead fall flat against the wooden desk. "What do you want from me?" she tried to communicate with her alter ego, or subconscious, or whoever it was that sent her that strange message. The frustration got the best of her, and she started savagely running her hands through her hair.

"Ah, yes. The young detective hard at work," Seth's voice interrupted her meltdown. Strands of her hair fell over her eyes as she lifted her head. Seth reached a hand to smooth them out of her face while he stooped down next to her. "Another rough day?"

Emery stretched her lips into a sadistic grin. "I'm going for a record." Her shoulders slumped when she turned toward him.

Hopeless . . . She felt absolutely hopeless. It was a feeling she wasn't accustomed to. After a whole whopping twenty-one years of knowing what she wanted, for the first time, she thought to reconsider her future. Maybe these were all signs to give up, that becoming a cop wasn't meant to be.

Seth's pink lips plumped into a pout. "Come on, Em. It's only been three days. Don't give up."

Her hand reached out to caress his cheek, drawing little patterns over his freckles with her thumb. "I don't know. There's usually more to go on at this point. My optimism levels have reached an all-time low."

"What about the sheriff? Didn't she say she was going to bring around some files?"

"Yeah, but she's yet to grace me with her presence. I'll pass by the station after closing if she doesn't turn up." Emery shrugged, turning back to a thick book on Norse mythology. "Didn't you have some final project to turn in today?"

"All done," Seth grinned at her, standing up with an air of triumph. "I am officially finished with the semester."

As soon as those words left his mouth, a curious Mrs. Baker peeked her head out from behind a nearby bookshelf. "Seth, sweet boy! Did I hear right? Are you done with college?"

Seth flinched, sheepishly looking over his shoulder at the old woman. "Yes."

"That's wonderful!" Mrs. Baker exclaimed. Her hurried steps echoed through the cavernous library as she waddled closer. "Then you wouldn't mind helping a friend of mine, would you?"

After a second of hesitation, he asked, "With what?" It sounded more cautious than curious.

"He runs a market a few streets from here, and he needs someone to do some heavy lifting." She frowned, deepening the wrinkles over her ivory skin. "His back has been bothering him for a while now, but no one has shown up for the job." She clasped her hands in front of her chest, pleading to Seth for his help.