tiny, pointed nose. When she spoke to Luce, she pushed up the sleeves of her white cashmere sweater, exposing stacks and stacks of pearl bracelets decorating both of her wrists. “Can I help you find something?” she asked in a happy whisper.
Luce felt instantly at ease with this woman, and glanced down at the nameplate on her desk. Sophia Bliss. She wished she did have a library request. This woman was the first authority figure she’d seen all day whose help she would actually have wanted to seek out. But she was just here wandering around … and then she remembered what Roland Sparks had said.
“I’m new here,” she explained. “Lucinda Price. Could you tell me where the east wing is?”
The woman gave Luce a you-look-like-the-reading-sort smile that Luce had been getting from librarians all her life. “Right that way,” she said, pointing toward a row of tall windows on the other side of the room. “I’m Miss Sophia, and if my roster’s correct, you’re in my religion seminar on Tuesdays and Thursdays. Oh, we’re going to have some fun!” She winked. “In the meantime, if you need anything else, I’m here. A pleasure to meet you, Luce.”
Luce smiled her thanks, told Miss Sophia happily that she’d see her tomorrow in class, and started toward the windows. It was only after she’d left the librarian that she wondered about the strange, intimate way the woman had called her by her nickname.
She’d just cleared the main study area and was passing through the tall, elegant book stacks when something dark and macabre passed over her head. She glanced up.
No. Not here. Please. Let me just have this one place
.
When the shadows came and went, Luce was never sure exactly where they ended up—or how long they would be gone.
She couldn’t figure out what was happening now. Something was different. She was terrified, yes, but she didn’t feel cold. In fact, she felt a little bit flushed. The library was warm, but it wasn’t
that
warm. And then her eyes fell on Daniel.
He was facing the window, his back to her, leaningover a podium that said SPECIAL COLLECTIONS in white letters. The sleeves of his worn leather jacket were pushed up around his elbows, and his blond hair glowed under the lights. His shoulders were hunched over, and yet again, Luce had an instinct to fold herself into them. She shook it from her head and stood on tiptoe to get a better look at him. From here, she couldn’t be certain, but he looked like he was drawing something.
As she watched the slight movement of his body as he sketched, Luce’s insides felt like they were burning, like she’d swallowed something hot. She couldn’t figure out why, against all reason, she had this wild premonition that Daniel was drawing her.
She
shouldn’t
go to him. After all, she didn’t even know him, had never actually spoken to him. Their only communication so far had included one middle finger and a couple of dirty looks. Yet for some reason, it felt very important to her that she find out what was on that sketchpad.
Then it hit her. The dream she’d had the night before. The briefest flash of it came back to her all of a sudden. In the dream, it had been late at night—damp and chilly, and she’d been dressed in something long and flowing. She leaned up against a curtained window in an unfamiliar room. The only other person there was a man … or a boy—she never got to see his face. He was sketching her likeness on a thick pad of paper. Her hair.Her neck. The precise outline of her profile. She stood behind him, too afraid to let him know she was watching, too intrigued to turn away.
Luce jerked forward as she felt something pinch the back of her shoulder, then float over her head. The shadow had resurfaced. It was black and as thick as a curtain.
The pounding of her heart grew so loud that it filled her ears, blocking out the dark rustle of the shadow, blocking out the sound of her footsteps. Daniel glanced up from his work
Luce felt instantly at ease with this woman, and glanced down at the nameplate on her desk. Sophia Bliss. She wished she did have a library request. This woman was the first authority figure she’d seen all day whose help she would actually have wanted to seek out. But she was just here wandering around … and then she remembered what Roland Sparks had said.
“I’m new here,” she explained. “Lucinda Price. Could you tell me where the east wing is?”
The woman gave Luce a you-look-like-the-reading-sort smile that Luce had been getting from librarians all her life. “Right that way,” she said, pointing toward a row of tall windows on the other side of the room. “I’m Miss Sophia, and if my roster’s correct, you’re in my religion seminar on Tuesdays and Thursdays. Oh, we’re going to have some fun!” She winked. “In the meantime, if you need anything else, I’m here. A pleasure to meet you, Luce.”
Luce smiled her thanks, told Miss Sophia happily that she’d see her tomorrow in class, and started toward the windows. It was only after she’d left the librarian that she wondered about the strange, intimate way the woman had called her by her nickname.
She’d just cleared the main study area and was passing through the tall, elegant book stacks when something dark and macabre passed over her head. She glanced up.
No. Not here. Please. Let me just have this one place
.
When the shadows came and went, Luce was never sure exactly where they ended up—or how long they would be gone.
She couldn’t figure out what was happening now. Something was different. She was terrified, yes, but she didn’t feel cold. In fact, she felt a little bit flushed. The library was warm, but it wasn’t
that
warm. And then her eyes fell on Daniel.
He was facing the window, his back to her, leaningover a podium that said SPECIAL COLLECTIONS in white letters. The sleeves of his worn leather jacket were pushed up around his elbows, and his blond hair glowed under the lights. His shoulders were hunched over, and yet again, Luce had an instinct to fold herself into them. She shook it from her head and stood on tiptoe to get a better look at him. From here, she couldn’t be certain, but he looked like he was drawing something.
As she watched the slight movement of his body as he sketched, Luce’s insides felt like they were burning, like she’d swallowed something hot. She couldn’t figure out why, against all reason, she had this wild premonition that Daniel was drawing her.
She
shouldn’t
go to him. After all, she didn’t even know him, had never actually spoken to him. Their only communication so far had included one middle finger and a couple of dirty looks. Yet for some reason, it felt very important to her that she find out what was on that sketchpad.
Then it hit her. The dream she’d had the night before. The briefest flash of it came back to her all of a sudden. In the dream, it had been late at night—damp and chilly, and she’d been dressed in something long and flowing. She leaned up against a curtained window in an unfamiliar room. The only other person there was a man … or a boy—she never got to see his face. He was sketching her likeness on a thick pad of paper. Her hair.Her neck. The precise outline of her profile. She stood behind him, too afraid to let him know she was watching, too intrigued to turn away.
Luce jerked forward as she felt something pinch the back of her shoulder, then float over her head. The shadow had resurfaced. It was black and as thick as a curtain.
The pounding of her heart grew so loud that it filled her ears, blocking out the dark rustle of the shadow, blocking out the sound of her footsteps. Daniel glanced up from his work
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