Rain lashed against the library windows as Vinny and Deborah huddled over the newspaper clippings. The scent of wet paper and old ink filled the air, mixing with the electric tension between them. Deborah's fingers lingered near his marked wrist, not quite touching, as if afraid the contact might erase what little he'd remembered.
"You gave up pieces of us," she said softly. "But why would the Lady want our memories?"
Vinny stared at the fading silver lines. "Maybe because they're the only things strong enough to hold her back."
A particularly violent gust of wind made the windows rattle. Somewhere in the library stacks, a book fell with a muffled thump. Deborah jumped, her knee knocking against his under the table. The simple contact sent a jolt through him—not from the mark this time, but something deeper, more human.
"We need to find Lena," Vinny said, forcing himself to focus. "She knows more than she's telling us."
Deborah's expression darkened. "I don't trust her."
"Neither do I. But she's the only one who—"
The library door creaked open. Both of them froze as slow, shuffling footsteps echoed between the shelves. Not the quick steps of a student, not the measured pace of a teacher. These footsteps dragged, uneven, accompanied by a wet, rasping breath.
Vinny's mark flared to life, the sudden pain making him gasp. Through the shelves, he caught glimpses of something moving—a distorted shadow that didn't quite match the flickering fluorescent lights above.
Deborah's hand found his under the table, her fingers ice-cold. "Is that—"
A book cart overturned with a crash. The shadow lurched toward the sound, its form twisting unnaturally. For one heart-stopping moment, the light caught its face—pale, bloated, with black veins crawling beneath translucent skin. Daniel's face.
Deborah made a small, broken sound in her throat.
The thing that had been her cousin turned its head toward them with jerky, mechanical movements. Its mouth opened too wide, revealing gums studded with thorns instead of teeth.
*"She's hungry,"* it rasped in a voice that wasn't human. *"The bridge is breaking."*
Then the emergency lights kicked on, flooding the library with harsh red light. When Vinny blinked away the spots in his vision, the thing was gone. Only the overturned book cart remained as evidence it had ever been there.
Deborah trembled beside him, her breathing shallow. "That wasn't Daniel," she whispered. "That was never Daniel."
Vinny's mark pulsed in agreement, the silver lines now barely visible against his skin. The pact was fading fast. Outside, the storm grew louder, the rain now pounding against the windows like desperate hands.
"We need to find Lena before sunset," Vinny said, helping Deborah to her feet. Her entire body shook, but her grip on his hand was iron-strong.
As they hurried toward the exit, Vinny caught a glimpse of their reflection in the library's glass doors—two figures standing close, his dark head bent toward her golden one. The image tugged at something deep in his chest, a memory just out of reach.
Then the doors swung open, and the storm swallowed them whole.