I shoved away the thought and knelt near Mac, who sprawled on the gleaming stone floor. Her cropped golden hair was messy, and shadows darkened the pale skin beneath her closed eyes. She was far taller than me, slim and strong. Her limbs splayed out like a broken doll’s, and fear gripped my heart.
“Mac.” Gently, I pressed my fingertips to her neck, praying. “Come on, Mac. Please don’t be dead.”
A thin pulse beat weakly against my fingertips. Hope flared.
“Come on, wake up,” I begged.
She lay there, cold and still, her breathing shallow. I surged to my feet and raced to the small sitting room near the door. Persian rugs provided a cozy base for the plush, old furniture. A fireplace burned, eternally fueled by magic, and fresh flowers sat on the windowsill. Neither I nor the other librarians were responsible for them—they just appeared, fresh and beautiful each week.
There were many secrets in the library. Most of them more wholesome than the secret of the ghost who haunted me.
I headed toward the small desk near the window. No one had used it in over a century, and the tiny drawers were still full of the bits and bobs of another life. I’d poked around in there once, my curiosity impossible to resist.
Quickly, I rifled through the drawer on the left, finally finding the little vial I’d stumbled upon last year.
Smelling salts.
Ancient and gross, but hopefully effective.
Heart pounding, I raced back to Mac’s side. I fell to my knees, uncorked the vial, and held it under her nose.
She opened her eyes and sat up with a gasp, her face wrinkling in disgust. “What the hell?” Her blue eyes flew open, confused. “Seraphia? What’s going on?”
I wrapped an arm around her shoulders, supporting her. “Are you okay?”
She coughed, looking around the library, her brow furrowed. “I’m at the library?”
“Yes. I found you on the floor.”
“Oh.” She frowned, then clutched her stomach and doubled over, shuddering. “I feel awful.”
Fear spiked. I thought of the rat who had died after wandering into the mist. “What’s wrong?”
“My abdomen. Lungs.” She gasped, trying to breathe. Her gaze flashed up to mine, fear in the depths. “I remember now. I came to see you, but there was this mist at the back of the library.”
“Did it call to you?” In the same way it calls to me?
“Um . . . no.” She shook her head, glancing back toward the rear of the library.
My gaze followed hers, searching, though I knew the ghostly shadow was gone. I was attuned to its presence . . . unfortunately.
“It just looked weird, so I went to check it out,” she continued.
I hadn’t been friends with her long—I’d been following Nana’s advice all twenty-five years of my life—but that was one hundred percent Mac. Bold and brave, she was never one to back away from a challenge.
“Then what?” I asked.
“I felt lightheaded.” She touched her temple, her knuckles bruised and broken. Probably from a fight. She was a bartender at the Haunted Hound, a popular pub in town and one of the magical gates to human London. “Then I collapsed, I think.”
Her face turned pale and almost green as she bent over once more.
Worry tugged at me. “Come on. We need to go see Eve. You’re not well.”
She nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, good idea.”
I helped her to her feet, my own limbs trembling. Why couldn’t the ghostly shadow have gotten me?
It was me it wanted, after all. I could feel its desire, cold and hot at the same time. Why attack my friend?
Because she’d walked toward it, brave and bold, something I’d never even tried. I was too cowardly, too aware of Nana’s warnings. She’d taken me from Greece to hide me. Torn us out of our old lives. I’d respected that and hidden, just as she’d asked. Just as she’d trained me.
And this was the result.
I’m a coward.
“You can stay here and work,” Mac said, her voice thready. “I know you’re supposed to open soon.”
“Of course not. I’m taking you to Eve. You look like hell.”
She laughed, wrapping an arm around my shoulder for support. “Feel like it, too.”
We moved slowly toward the door, and I asked. “How did you get in, anyway?”
“It was unlocked. I thought you were open.”
“Damn it. I thought I locked it last night.” I was really losing it these days if I’d forgotten to lock up. That was a firing offense, and rightly so. The books in this library were beyond ancient. Beyond valuable. Not just because of their age and rarity, but because of the deadly spells some of them contained.
“You’ve been a bit odd, lately,” Mac said as we stopped in front of the door. “Distracted and . . . scared, almost. And you would never leave the door unlocked.”
“Maybe I would.”
“We haven’t known each other long, but I know that’s not true. What’s going on?”
I swallowed hard, wanting to tell her. But what would I say?
I’m being haunted by the terrifying shadowy ghost of a man that repels and attracts me all at once?
Nope. Because that was insane.
2
Seraphia
I helped Mac out onto the street, avoiding her gaze without answering the question.
But she didn’t press. I’d always been good at giving off an icy air that kept people from getting close, and it was working like a charm right now.
Finally, she said, “I’m here when you finally want to talk, you know.”
Tears pricked my eyes. I’d given her the true hedgehog treatment, spikes deployed, but she was still there for me.
But talk?
I couldn’t, of course. Feelings were my enemy. My terrible, wonky plant magic went out of control anytime I felt strong emotion. Trees died, vines grew seven hundred feet long, entire crops would wither.
Exactly as Nana had warned me it would happen. Exactly what I needed to avoid if I wanted to keep the shadowy ghost away.
So yeah, I needed to keep my distance. Caring for people was a surefire way to develop emotions, which was a surefire way to cause catastrophic damage to the natural world.
Hence, my reputation as a badass loner.
Well, maybe as a loner. The badass part was less likely.
Anyway, I’d already been growing too close to Mac, Carrow, Beatrix, and Eve, my four almost-friends. It was too dangerous, though.
This—Mac’s injury—made that clear enough. Getting close to me meant getting hurt. I needed to step back.
So I just nodded and bit out, “Thanks.”
Together, we made our way through the streets of Guild City. The all-supernatural town was hidden within London, a relic of the past inhabited by supernaturals of all types. Most of the streets were cobblestone and the buildings Tudor, with their distinctive dark beams and white plaster. Mullioned glass windows reflected the sunlight, hundreds of panes glinting in the sun.
The humans had no idea we existed here. No idea about any magic, in fact. Which meant that Guild City was a haven for our kind—a place where we could walk without fear. As we cut through the late morning crowd, we passed a Fae with her glittering wings on display and two vampires who didn’t bother to hide their fangs.