Laura Clery Book Novels & Stories

"It's some stupid children's book, but I need it." Indianna blinked and she looked at Laura with wide eyes. "A children's book?" "That's what I said," Lily nodded. "Do you know of any children's books about the Royals?" "We do, actually," Indianna said. "Laura gave it to me as a present," she rubbed her stomach, "for them." "I need it," Lily said immediately. "I've been researching something and I think the book is the key." "Researching what?" Indianna asked.

Clara was gone. But she hadn't been erased. In the center of the pier, resting on the weathered wood, were Two Copper Rings. They weren't charred. They were polished, shining in the first light of a new, terrestrial dawn. And beside the rings was a single, physical book. The one from the London library. Hope picked it up, her fingers trembling as she opened the cover. Inside, in Julian’s sharp, executive hand and Clara’s flowing, teacher’s script, was a single note:

“What happened to you and what happened to Lillian are the human center of this case. The financial crimes are significant. But the human center is what makes it matter.” She went back through the conference room door. I sat in the corridor for another minute. Then I stood and walked to the elevator and out through the lobby and two blocks to the coffee shop where Clara was on page one hundred and forty-seven of her thick book and looked up when I came through the door with the expression of someone who had been waiting with patient faith and was now receiving confirmation that the waiting had been worthwhile. She closed the book. “Done?” she said. “Done,” I said.

Although five years had passed, when she thought about it, she could still feel the pain. Suddenly, the phone rang and it was a call from Laura. "Damn, the opening ceremony is about to start, why haven't you come yet?" Laura grumbled as soon as Claire answered the phone. She was Laura's personal assistant. Laura had some activities today and Claire had to be at the hotel before the promised time. Claire hurried off and a few minutes later the taxi pulled up right in front of the hotel. Claire got out of the cab and as soon as she walked in, almost all eyes were on her.

She looked up to find Alaina waiting for her to speak up with a slight smile. "Oh! I forgot." That girl said as she pressed her palm with her forehead. Alaina found that gesture a sweet one. She was cute. "I am Clara. I wanted a book Nectar of Pain." She at last told her demand as Alaina gave her that book and made her library card with Clara's constant staring. Alaina didn't know why she was staring at her like that with her big blue eyes. Alaina's eyes were too blue but with a little shade of grey making her enticingly beautiful. Alaina handed her the book as she was getting confused with her constant staring.

The light flooded the room, revealing a woman grimacing and clutching her knee--and the chaos around her: a toppled desk lamp, scattered documents, a paperweight rolled into the corner. "Claire?" Cecilia lowered the gun, disbelief clear in her voice. "What are you doing here?" Claire rubbed her bruised knee while picking up a book from the floor, muttering, "I just have night blindness, okay? I was curious about what Murphy's been sneaking around doing lately... followed him here. I even thought he might have another woman." Cecilia righted the fallen chair and sighed. "Even if that were true, Claire--what standing do you have to question his private life?"

she said. Jade looked at the book. Then at Dorothy. Dorothy waved a hand without looking up. "She'll grow into it," Dorothy said. Jade looked at the title. Looked at me. The title was something about a woman who had to choose between two versions of her life. I stared at it. Clara put it carefully in the bag she carried that contained, as far as anyone could tell, various important rocks and one very old crayon. Jade caught my eye.

"You've carried so much for so long. It's nice to see you let go." "I'm trying." "You're succeeding." They stood in silence, watching the snow fall, until the fire inside burned low and they finally went to bed. The next morning, Clara found Elara in the library. Her daughter was hunched over an ancient book, her brow furrowed. "What are you looking for?" Clara asked. "Information. About the White Lady. About her kind." Elara looked up. "There's more to her than she showed us." "What do you mean?"

"The practice. The method. The thing that moves between people when the conditions are right." "Then the fourth book is the argument for everyone," Clara says. "The specific is yours. But the proof —" she looks at the letter in her hands — "the proof is anyone who grew up inside the right conditions." "Yes," Valentina says. "That is the fourth book's closing argument." Clara folds the letter again. Puts it back in her coat pocket. "I will be in the acknowledgments," she says. "You will be in the argument," Valentina says.

All to anger Laura. “To take back my place obviously,” gritted Laura. Clara chuckled. But suddenly stopped. Her eyes changed. “Your place?” She got up and headed towards her. Laura drew back, clenching her fists in readiness. “Smell this, whose blood does it smell like?” Clara asked as she brought her blooded hands close to Laura's nose. Laura flinched but since she had a strong sense of smell, the smell already registered in her brain. Her eyes widened and she felt her throat instantly dried up. Shoving past Clara, she dashed into her room and saw her cat pet brutally murdered and lying lifelessly on her bed.