She frowned, looking a little bewildered. “Missing?”
I opened to the gap. She stepped closer—too close—and my breath caught again.
“How would someone even—” She leaned in, eyes narrowing. Then she pulled out her phone and shone the flashlight along the binding. The numbers glinted. Except one.
“See that?” she whispered. “Reflective ink… reflective ink… and then—this one isn’t. Someone altered the numbering.”
There was that competence again.
I stared at her in awe.
She was brilliant. She was gentle. She was breathtaking. She was?—
I had to focus.
Losing hope scared me more than I expected.
But then she murmured, “Can I have the book, please?”
I immediately put it in her steady hands. Her brows drew together in concentration as she studied, then she set it down on the table and marched straight out of the room. I followed like my feet had no choice.
Back at her desk, she pulled up the checkout logs and scrolled, muttering to herself. She shifted her weight from side to side, tapping her temple and rambling under her breath. It was mesmerizing.
“Transfer forms!”
I jerked out of my trance. “I beg your pardon?”
She spun toward me, eyes bright with triumph. “I recognize the name of the last person to check this out. It was on a transfer request from another library. Someone moved books around and—wait—wait—yes!” She clicked rapidly. “He works in First Editions and Historical Records. Since he was the last person to check out the book, maybe he knows something about the missing pages. Looks like these transfer forms indicate he works at the… Carnegie Library of Pittsburgh.”
My pulse soared. We had a clue. A next step.
I didn’t think—I just grabbed her by the waist and lifted her, spinning her once, joy exploding through my chest like heat through stone.
“You’re incredible,” I said, laughing.
“Wha—whee—put me down,” she choked out.
I did immediately, horrified. “I—oh. Apologies. I forget my strength.”
She took a moment to recover her breath, leaningagainst the counter, then looked up at me with wide, delicate eyes that nearly undid me.
“I can go see him now,” I said, heart racing. “Thank you, Artemis. Truly.”
“Wait.” She held up a hand. “You can’t just march in and demand answers from a man who may or may not have damaged a half-million-dollar book.”
I frowned. “What should I do?”
She grabbed her purse with sudden, fierce purpose. “I’m a librarian. I know the system better than anyone. So… I should probably go with you.”
“I’m not sure that’s?—”
No. My first instinct was distance. Her protection required distance from me and this project of mine. Didn’t it?
But distance had already failed her once. She had been taken because I wasn’t near enough. I couldn’t protect her from afar.
She pulled out a taser, pressed the button, and a bolt of blue crackled cheerfully in the air.
“I’m… somewhat prepared, now,” she said. “In a minimal, please-don’t-measure-me-against-real-heroes sort of way.”
