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