The upper quadrants were quieter than the lower levels.
No bickering echoes from Kevin and Vivianne, no rustle of pages or creak of old wood. Just the soft sound of our footsteps on marble and the steady rhythm of our breathing.
Trish's hand was still in mine.
"Left or right?" she asked, her amber eyes scanning the bookshelves that towered on either side of us.
The diagram in the book had marked the upper quadrants with symbols I didn't recognize, but the layout of the library itself seemed to be guiding us. The left path wound between shelves that leaned inward like tired old men. The right path was wider, straighter, lined with reading nooks that glowed with warm lamplight.
"I'll go left," I said.
"Left feels ominous."
"Exactly."
Trish reluctantly released my arm, her gaze lingering on it for a few seconds longer than necessary before she waved me off and headed to her quadrant. That alone left a lump in my throat.
I knew what she was feeling...
