Novel & Cerita Mystery Books Without Murders

*The Secret Society* Emma sat in the dimly lit café, sipping her coffee and staring at the small folder she had received from an anonymous source. The folder was labeled "The Order of the Phoenix" and contained a series of cryptic documents and symbols. As she flipped through the pages, Emma's eyes widened in shock. The documents seemed to describe a secret society that had been operating in the shadows for centuries. They were known for their ruthless tactics and obsession with power. But what really caught Emma's attention was the mention of a prophecy. According to the documents, a young woman with a specific genetic makeup would hold the key to unlocking an ancient power. And Emma's sist

I beamed. "Crazy, isn't it?" "Fucking crazy, for real." "First, we put THE DA VINCI CODE by DAN BROWN here." He picked out the book and inserted it in the center line of the shelf. He put HOW TO STOP TIME by MATT HAIG, followed by EVERGREEN by NAOMI HIRAHARA. "Then KISS THE GIRLS by JAMES PATTERSON." He put it next to the first book. "I've read that." I went on in a spur of excitement. "It's a thriller and mystery novel about a detective who's trying to track down a serial killer. So many twists and cliffhangers. Total page-turner." I giggled.

"Word of advice? The good stuff isn't kept with the dusty old books." Before I could ask what she meant, she was gone. Disappeared into the shadows like she'd never been there at all. Who the hell was that? I shook my head and went back to searching. I didn't have time for mysterious women with probably glowing tattoos. Hours passed. My eyes burned from reading by candlelight, but I kept going. Most of the books were about pack laws and territory disputes. Nothing helpful. But then my fingers found something different. A thin book wedged between two larger ones.

Before me were rows and columns of carefully arranged books, most of the covers bearing sweaty, half-naked men and women in different stages of copulation, and the ones that didn’t had dark covers with obscure details that were covert yet somehow let you know exactly what the book was about. Heat climbed to my face, and I slammed the box shut, taking a deep breath before risking a second look. I gave myself a mental slap in the face. Whilst I enjoyed reading all forms of literature, I wasn’t this wild about erotica. Should’ve totally kept my big mouth shut. On the bright side, all the books were labeled bestsellers, so I could only hope they were well written. I walked over to the second box

The air is filled with the scent of old parchment and dust. I move between the towering shelves. My fingers trail along the spines of books as I pass—histories, war, bestiaries, and ancient cities. None of them feel like they hold the answers I need. But I keep searching. I pull down a heavy tome on supernatural entities and flip through it. Nothing. I grab another book on creatures of the old world. Still nothing. My pulse quickens with every empty page. I can’t stop seeing that creature’s eyes. I can’t stop hearing the demon’s word.

His suspicions got cleared after few seconds as Clarissa closed the book with a thud and put it back in it’s place, rolling her eyes in disgust. Asshole! She is a fool to believe that he’s into romance novels, which explains his cold personality. Now she understood the meaning of the phrase ‘Don’t judge the book by it’s cover’. The book she took out is a murder mystery from fourteenth century and now she came to realize how Nicholas mastered in torture methods. He must’ve trained himself by reading such thriller novels. Nicholas chuckled at her actions and found her disdain cute. She can be amusing at times, he thought and stood behind her.

“Back before you were a world-famous author, huh?” Brad laughed. “Yeah, back then I was working for my hometown paper writing obituaries.” “So your work hasn’t changed too much; you’re still writing about death.” “I suppose you could look at it that way.” “I’ll confess I haven’t actually read any of your books. I know of you by reputation, but I’m a bit too squeamish for horror. A mystery, on the other hand, suits me just fine.” “Hey, to each his own. Or her own. I like mysteries, too; in some ways they share similar elements with horror.”

And I treat many people to coffee and tea for free - no need to worry about this. The coffee machine rattled noisily, grinding beans. —Where is your section with horror literature? Thrillers? “Everywhere,” Yuna looked around at all the shelves in her field of vision. — We have a shop with a narrow specialization, there is practically no popular literature, especially sentimental prose, women’s fantasy and ironic detective stories. But there is a variety of alternatives, horror, mysticism, thrillers, dystopias. In general, we buy everything that other stores take for testing sales. With second-hand books, things are similar.

I didn’t even have a wolf. The next book, The History of Gifts, looked promising. I sat down on the floor and opened it carefully, trying not to get my hopes too high. There were chapters about mind links, healing powers, even wolves that could talk to animals… but not a single word about silver fire. Or glowing fingers. Or dreams about strange women with snow-white hair. I let out a long breath, the kind that made your shoulders sag. I felt tired. Like the answers I wanted were still too far away.

"You found the library." Zade's voice. Of course. "Yes," I said, still not looking up. "I found it." "Finding everything you need?" "Yes." Silence. I could feel him standing there, watching me. Could feel the weight of his gaze. "What are you reading?" he asked. "A book." "I can see that. What book?" I finally looked up, holding up the cover so he could see. "Murder mystery. Detective thriller. Nothing interesting." His eyes scanned the cover, then moved to my face. "You like mysteries?"