Eve’s lips pursed and her brow furrowed, as if she didn’t want to speak the words.
“Spit it out, Eve,” Mac said. “It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve looked death in the face.”
“But this is different,” Eve said. “More powerful than anything I’ve ever seen.”
“And deadly.” Mac’s voice was flat.
Eve nodded. Her lips twisted. “Not for a few weeks, I don’t think.”
A few weeks?
Horror opened a chasm inside my chest. “Surely you can fix her.”
“I can. Of course I can. I just need to know more about the spell that cursed her.” She stood, determination setting her shoulders. “I’m going to get started researching.” She looked at me. “Do you think you can maybe get a sample of the mist without putting yourself in danger? Capture it in a tiny vial if it’s still there?”
A shiver raced over me. She wanted me to approach that close?
I firmed my jaw and nodded. “I can do it.”
Her lips pursed and her brow furrowed. “Are you sure it won’t be dangerous?”
“Of course it’s dangerous,” Mac said. “And this was my damned fault, so don’t go feeling guilty and getting yourself in trouble, Seraphia.”
“It’s my library.” My curse. It had never gotten close enough to touch me like it had Mac, but it was mine all the same. “I’ll be fine. Just need to get to the edge of it and swipe some up.”
“I can help,” Beatrix said.
“No.” My tone was sharp. “Too dangerous.”
Her mouth flattened, but I turned toward Eve and stuck out my hand. “Give me the vial, and I’ll fill it.”
Eve nodded and strode to a table, selecting a vial off the wooden surface. She returned and handed it to me, and I held it tight, having no pockets in my sleep shorts.
“Your tattoos.” Eve gripped my arm and peered down at it. “They’re starting to show.”
Shit.
The twisting vines that crept up my arm from wrist to elbow were magical markings I’d been born with but liked to keep hidden. My friends had seen them but were good enough to ask no questions. They understood that everyone had a past, and it wasn’t personal if I kept mine concealed.
Eve made me a potion to conceal them, but I had to take it regularly.
“Let me get you some more,” she said. “I have a batch done.”
“Thank you.”
She hurried off, and I met Mac and Beatrix’s gaze. They just smiled and turned to each other, talking about how Mac felt.
Gratitude welled within me. I didn’t understand the tattoos myself and certainly didn’t want to try to explain them. Nana had never told me what they were about. But as the darkness had started stalking me closer, I’d gone to Eve to get them concealed. I wanted to hide in any way I could.
“Here.” Eve returned and gave me a small vial that I swigged back, gulping quickly to avoid the bitterness.
“Thank you.”
“Anytime.”
“I’ll be out of here, then.” I looked at Mac. “I will fix this, I swear.”
Mac moved to rise, then gasped and sat back. “I think I’ll stay here for a little bit. Just rest.”
“You’ll be resting plenty,” Eve said. “In the meantime, we’re going to work on finding a cure. Beatrix, can you get in touch with Carrow and Quinn? They’ll help.”
Carrow and Quinn were the other two members of our tiny guild. Carrow, our leader, was a Soulceress. Quinn, a shifter.
I gave Mac one last look, apologizing with my eyes because I knew she wouldn’t tolerate hearing it from my lips.
“Go,” Mac said. “Your guilt is a drag. Don’t worry about me.”
I nodded. “I’m going to figure out what did this to you, Mac.”
Mac grinned, though it was weak. “I know you will. Now get out of here.”
I gave Eve and Beatrix one last look, then spun and left, racing down the stairs and out of the tower. As I crossed the barren courtyard, headed toward the empty shops that bordered it, my mind echoed with Eve’s words.
A few weeks.
That was nothing.
That was days.
I sprinted into the empty alley and hustled through the streets, moving faster without Mac at my side. The city passed by in a blur. Breathless, I rushed into the library, stumbling to a halt on the other side of the door.
The quiet, cool air welcomed me. My footsteps rang on the stone floor, the sound bouncing off the soaring, domed ceiling. The gorgeous wooden shelves rose tall, stuffed full of books. All along the walls and ends of the bookshelves, flameless candles glittered with Fae magic. They weren't true flame, so they’d never light the books on fire, but they provided the same gorgeous glow to light up the room in warmth and cheer.
Normally, the sight would soothe me.
Right now…
Not a chance in hell.
I leaned back against the door, my mind racing as guilt rightfully stabbed me in the heart.
If I’d never become friends with Mac, she wouldn’t have come here to visit me. She wouldn’t have been drawn by the shadow. Cursed by the darkness.
We’d known each other such a short time, but it had been long enough for this to happen.
This is what you get for getting involved.
Disgust raced through me. I’d grown weak, seeking friends.
My gaze moved to one of the statues on the left side of the library. The woman wore a sweeping dress from the sixteenth century, and legend had it that she was a spinster librarian who had never left the library. She’d stayed there so long that she’d finally turned to stone, forever entombed in the only place she called home.
That would be me if I stayed this way.
But I had to.
Mac was evidence of that.
I stiffened my shoulders and drew in a breath, taking courage from the quiet library around me. The vial burned in my hand, waiting.
Moping was stupid. And Mac needed me.
I stepped away from the door and headed toward the rear of the library. Back here, the air was chill. Unnaturally so, reminding me that I was still dressed in my wellies and sleep shorts.
“Come out, come out, wherever you were,” I murmured. It was ridiculous and dangerous to taunt the darkness, but I was pissed.
I was going to figure this shit out and end it.
Save Mac.
My footsteps were silent as I crept forward. I made it to the center of the floor under the massive domed ceiling, avoiding the very middle where our fiery card catalog resided. It located the books using smoke, and while it wasn’t burning at the moment, I didn’t like to walk over it.
Fear chilled my skin as I neared the back of the library. Acres of tall wooden bookshelves filled the space, disappearing into the distance.
There was no sight of the mist, but I could smell it. Fire and brimstone. Heat and magic.
The scent grew stronger, the dark mist appearing. It crept along the floor, curling around the books on the bottom shelves. My hands trembled as I uncorked the vial.
I’d be quick. I had to be.
The mist curled upward, spreading throughout the library. I swore I heard it whispering to me in a deep voice, coaxing me closer.
Seraphia.
Oh fates, I prayed. Not now. Please.
I didn’t want the mist to form the shadow of the ghost who haunted me.