around the corner.
Empty—the library was completely empty.
Nobody was studying at the tables. Nobody was packing up their stuff. Nobody was walking toward the double doors with a backpack slung over their shoulder. Even Mrs. Raven, the woman who manned the coffee cart, had already left for the night.
I bit my lip. Just because I didn’t see anyone didn’t mean the library was empty. That arrow had come from somewhere. Someone had shot it at me, and I had no way of knowing whether or not he was still in here—
A hand clamped down on my shoulder. I shrieked and threw myself to the left, banging my shoulder on the opposite bookshelf. I grabbed one of the thick books, whipped back my arm, and turned around on my knees, ready to throw the heavy volume at whomever was behind me, then surge to my feet and run like crazy.
Nickamedes stood in the middle of the aisle, his hands on his hips.
“Gwendolyn?” The librarian frowned. “Are you okay?”
I scrambled to my feet, for once extremely grateful to see him. So much so that I would have hugged him if it wouldn’t have been just too weird. Nickamedes opened his mouth to say something else, but I held up my hand.
“Shh!” I hissed.
Nickamedes’s confused frown turned into a glacial glare at my shushing, but I ignored him and concentrated. Once again, I didn’t hear anything. No rustles, no whispers of clothing, no footsteps hurrying away.
“I ask again. Are you okay?” Nickamedes said in a snide tone. “Or are you having some sort of ... episode?”
“No, no, I’m not okay,” I said, moving past him and stalking to the end of the aisle. “I’m not okay because of that—”
I rounded the corner and pointed at the end of the bookshelf, but my words died on my lips.
The arrow was gone—vanished, like it had never even been there to start with.
“Gwendolyn? Is something the matter?” Nickamedes stepped out from the stacks behind me.
My mouth opened, closed, and opened again, but no words came out. No, I’m not okay, I wanted to say. Someone just tried to put an arrow through my skull .
But I couldn’t tell him that. Not without proof. Nickamedes hated me. He’d never believe someone had just taken a shot at me in the library. And even if he did, well, he might not care all that much.
I clamped my lips together and stood there, anger, embarrassment, and fear making my cheeks burn.
Nickamedes raised his black eyebrows in a way that clearly said he thought I’d lost what little sense I had. “Well, I’m done with my e-mails. Go get your things together, and I’ll turn off the lights and lock up for the night.”
He walked back to his office, but I stayed where I was, feeling crazy, scared, and frustrated, all at the same time. I blew out a breath and turned back to the bookshelf, as if the arrow would somehow magically reappear. It didn’t, of course, but I realized that maybe I hadn’t been imagining things after all.
Because there was a nick in the wood that hadn’t been there before.
The deep, ugly, starlike shape looked like it had grooved maybe four inches into the dark, glossy wood. Whoever had shot the arrow must have yanked it out while I’d been looking around the far side of the bookshelf. That was the only explanation I could come up with. But if that was the case, why hadn’t he fired another arrow at me when I’d had my back turned? Had the archer heard Nickamedes moving around in his office and had been scared off? If so, I was going to have to start being a lot nicer to the uptight librarian—a whole lot nicer.
But right now I wanted answers, and I knew of one way to maybe get them. My hand trembling, I brought my fingers up to the groove. I hesitated a second, then pressed them to the splintered wood, knowing that my psychometry would kick in and show me exactly what had happened.
THUNK!
An image of the arrow slamming into the bookcase filled my mind—but nothing else. No clue as to who had shot it or why.
Empty—the library was completely empty.
Nobody was studying at the tables. Nobody was packing up their stuff. Nobody was walking toward the double doors with a backpack slung over their shoulder. Even Mrs. Raven, the woman who manned the coffee cart, had already left for the night.
I bit my lip. Just because I didn’t see anyone didn’t mean the library was empty. That arrow had come from somewhere. Someone had shot it at me, and I had no way of knowing whether or not he was still in here—
A hand clamped down on my shoulder. I shrieked and threw myself to the left, banging my shoulder on the opposite bookshelf. I grabbed one of the thick books, whipped back my arm, and turned around on my knees, ready to throw the heavy volume at whomever was behind me, then surge to my feet and run like crazy.
Nickamedes stood in the middle of the aisle, his hands on his hips.
“Gwendolyn?” The librarian frowned. “Are you okay?”
I scrambled to my feet, for once extremely grateful to see him. So much so that I would have hugged him if it wouldn’t have been just too weird. Nickamedes opened his mouth to say something else, but I held up my hand.
“Shh!” I hissed.
Nickamedes’s confused frown turned into a glacial glare at my shushing, but I ignored him and concentrated. Once again, I didn’t hear anything. No rustles, no whispers of clothing, no footsteps hurrying away.
“I ask again. Are you okay?” Nickamedes said in a snide tone. “Or are you having some sort of ... episode?”
“No, no, I’m not okay,” I said, moving past him and stalking to the end of the aisle. “I’m not okay because of that—”
I rounded the corner and pointed at the end of the bookshelf, but my words died on my lips.
The arrow was gone—vanished, like it had never even been there to start with.
“Gwendolyn? Is something the matter?” Nickamedes stepped out from the stacks behind me.
My mouth opened, closed, and opened again, but no words came out. No, I’m not okay, I wanted to say. Someone just tried to put an arrow through my skull .
But I couldn’t tell him that. Not without proof. Nickamedes hated me. He’d never believe someone had just taken a shot at me in the library. And even if he did, well, he might not care all that much.
I clamped my lips together and stood there, anger, embarrassment, and fear making my cheeks burn.
Nickamedes raised his black eyebrows in a way that clearly said he thought I’d lost what little sense I had. “Well, I’m done with my e-mails. Go get your things together, and I’ll turn off the lights and lock up for the night.”
He walked back to his office, but I stayed where I was, feeling crazy, scared, and frustrated, all at the same time. I blew out a breath and turned back to the bookshelf, as if the arrow would somehow magically reappear. It didn’t, of course, but I realized that maybe I hadn’t been imagining things after all.
Because there was a nick in the wood that hadn’t been there before.
The deep, ugly, starlike shape looked like it had grooved maybe four inches into the dark, glossy wood. Whoever had shot the arrow must have yanked it out while I’d been looking around the far side of the bookshelf. That was the only explanation I could come up with. But if that was the case, why hadn’t he fired another arrow at me when I’d had my back turned? Had the archer heard Nickamedes moving around in his office and had been scared off? If so, I was going to have to start being a lot nicer to the uptight librarian—a whole lot nicer.
But right now I wanted answers, and I knew of one way to maybe get them. My hand trembling, I brought my fingers up to the groove. I hesitated a second, then pressed them to the splintered wood, knowing that my psychometry would kick in and show me exactly what had happened.
THUNK!
An image of the arrow slamming into the bookcase filled my mind—but nothing else. No clue as to who had shot it or why.
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