Something in her wanted to be near places that felt quiet and old. Maybe the locket liked that.
Outside the morning was thin and chilled. They walked together—Lily with her stack of returns, Nora humming a tune about pastries she wanted later, John already halfway to his car talking about traffic. Shyla kept pace mostly in silence, watching the town slide past old shopfronts and the bakery where Nora swore, she'd buy every last cinnamon bun after moving. Her thoughts kept drifting to Leo, to Lord Nicolas, to Sunday. Every time she tried to pin a plan, the locket pulsed in her pocket like a tiny trapped heartbeat.
"Shy, you okay?" Nora asked suddenly, pulling her back. "You look like you saw a ghost."
"Just tired," Shyla lied. "And… hungry."
"You're always hungry," Nora laughed and bumped her shoulder against Shyla's. "Come on, the library's this way."
They turned a corner; the library rose ahead—stone steps, tall windows, a carved wooden door that looked older than the town itself. It was quiet in a way that made Shyla's ears ring. The locket buzzed once—a warning or a hello, she couldn't tell.
Inside, dust motes spun in the sunlight and the smell of old paper wrapped around them like a blanket. Librarian Mrs. Hales looked up and smiled like she'd been expecting them. "Morning, Lily. Hello girls." Her voice was calm, like she read minds for a living.
As Lily handed over the books, Shyla wandered the stacks. The rows felt taller than normal, like corridors in a sleeping city. Her fingers brushed spines—history, myth, occult—and every time she touched one a tiny electric prickle ran up her arm. Leo's voice flickered, impatient: Don't touch the books that bite, idiot. Focus.
She found a corner with a green lamp and sat. Nora drifted off to the young-adult shelf, humming. Lily chatted with Mrs. Hales at the counter. The day was ordinary here. Yet Shyla felt anything but.
Shyla traced the edge of the table with her fingertip, staring at the green lamp glow. The air felt heavier here, like the walls themselves were listening. She tugged the locket out just far enough to peek at it.
It gleamed faintly, red as if lit from within. For a heartbeat she thought she saw it blink.
Leo's voice came again, sharper now. "Put it back. Someone's watching."
Her stomach flipped. She glanced over her shoulder. Nora was crouched on the floor, still humming, lost in some paperback. Lily was laughing quietly with Mrs. Hales. No one looked her way.
Then who?
Her gaze slid upward. In the second-floor gallery, between shelves, a shadow shifted. She froze, unable to tell if it was just the trick of sunlight. The locket pulsed harder, once, twice.
Mrs. Hales's voice floated across the room, almost too casual. "Careful where you sit, dear. That table keeps secrets."
Shyla's throat tightened.
The shadow moved again. Not away... closer.
"Mrs. Hales, is this someone's reserved table?" Shyla asked, pointing.
"Yes, dear. Your father used to sit here with one of his friends. I forgot the name… I think it was Alaric. Such a sweetheart. You wouldn't believe how handsome he was drop dead gorgeous, the kind you'd kill for, Shyla dear." Mrs. Hales smiled, amused by her own memory.
"Mrs. Hales, he can't be more handsome than my father," Shyla shot back, half proud, half protective.
Both of them laughed, light and easy. The kind of small laugh that fills a library like a secret.
But Leo was in a different dilemma. Why is he here? Damn it… your hubby is here. I swear this girl has no IQ. I told her someone was watching; can't she take a single note? My mission is to keep her safe. I can't break vampire law — she has to find her soulmate herself.
"Master," he warned again, sharper this time, "look around. Maybe you'll find your prince charming."
Shyla blinked, the locket hot in her pocket. She felt it beating like a second heart. Slowly, she glanced up.
Something moved near the second floor of the library. Between the shelves. A shadow first, then the sharp cut of a coat. He wasn't coming down, just… watching.
Shyla's breath caught. Her skin prickled.
The library silence was suffocating her. She launched toward the counter, ignoring all of Leo's warnings.
"Mrs. Hales… will you miss me? We're leaving for New York tomorrow. This… maybe the goodbye," she said in a rush, her voice tighter than she wanted it to be.
Mrs. Hales looked up, surprised. "Oh dear, of course I'll miss you. This place won't be the same without you."
Her words felt warm, but Shyla could still feel the cold eyes burning from above.