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I’m not fully demonic, not like Loki, but the old magic made me pay for my hubris in a different way.
I am aphantom.
Worse, I’m a phantom trapped in the human realm with an unaware female—and because I left it behind and can no longer open a portal like I always have, theGrimoire du Sombrais once again out of my reach.
CHAPTER2
DEPOSITORY
HOPE
FOUR MONTHS LATER
How do you know if you’re going crazy?
That’s what I’m wondering today as I shelve books at work. Because, when I turn down one of the furthest stacks of the library and something about the shape of the shadows welling in the corner has me swallowing aneepbefore jamming the book on its shelf and scurrying away, I can’t deny it any longer.
I honestly think something is wrong with me—and more than the usual anxiety and tendency to overthink that I’ve struggled with my entire life.
If it was just the shadows that spooked me, I could blame it on my watching horror movies at a young age with Johanna and inevitably screwing up my psyche. Can’t deny that I have. I might be twenty-eight, but I purposely chose to rent a home that didn’t have a basement or an attic because they’ve made me nervous for as long as I can remember.
I’m a bit of a scaredy-cat, too, I admit it, and it’s only gotten worse since this strange feeling that I’m being… I don’t know… like,followed,kind of, has settled over me like a shadow of doom or something.
I can’t explain it. For the last few months—maybe since early summer—I can’t shake the sensation that someone’s watching me. Out of the corner of my eye, I swear I see someone melting into the shadows, but there’s never anyone there when I turn to get a better look.
My name is a whisper on a breeze that I try to convince myself I don’t hear.
And then there’s the way that, despite living alone, my house doesn’t feel as… asemptyas it used to.
This is where the crazy comes into play. Because, logically, I know that no one is out there stalking me. Why would they? I have a good relationship with nearly all of my exes, and considering I’ve been single since me and Corey decided on an amicable split two years ago, I don’t think it’s any of them.
Besides, lately I don’t really go anywhere except home, work, and for the occasional meal out with Johanna and her husband so it’s not like I managed to pick up a stalker or something like that.
And yet… I just don’t know. The feeling hasn’t gone away, and I have to work to shake off my recent scare as I head back to the counter to check the depository for returned library books.
Today, I’m working alongside two other librarians: Jake Reynolds, who is a library clerk like me, and Moira Cooke, our library technician and the head of the Westfield Library.
Our library is made up of a staff of seven full-time employees, including our janitor, with about a many part-time workers and volunteers. As a clerk, it’s my job to shelve, process, and check out library materials, though I’m in the running for taking over as a library assistant when Victoria retires at the end of the year.
Without a diploma or any certification, it’s the most I can hope for right now. One day, when I can afford it, I’d like to go back to school and get my degree in library sciences, but when the choice came down to getting loans or jumping in with two feet into the workforce, I didn’t really have a choice. As it is, I barely scrape by with enough to pay my rent and come out with a couple dollars extra at the end of the month.
It’s worth it, though. I’ve always loved books, and knew I wanted to spend my life surrounded by them. I’m firmly child-free—though I love my sister’s kids like they’re my own—and while I’m still searching for the perfect partner for me, my first love is books. Whether those in the library or my own never-ending TBR, my life revolves around books, and any guy who wants to settle down with me has to understand that.
Speaking of…
“Hey, Hope! I didn’t know you were working today.”
Funny that I knew thathewas on shift. Probably because I got the same schedule e-mailed to me that he did so I know who I’ll see on any given shift at the library.
Jake Reynolds is one of the only two men who work at the library; the other is Paulie, our janitor. He’s a cute guy a couple of years younger than me, with a dimple in his chin, messy dark curls, and pretty brown eyes hidden behind a pair of wire-rimmed frames. He has a tan even now in October, and a tendency to wear tight henley shirts every shift to show off his lanky yet undeniably muscular build.
I blame myself for that. Not really thinking about it, I innocently complimented his shirt shortly after he started working with us last spring. Now, I’ve always been a bit oblivious. It takes a lot before I realize that someone is flirting with me instead of just being friendly, and I would’ve thought that Jake would be more into the younger co-eds who work part-time at the library. There’s Liza and Jennifer, both leggy and gorgeous, and even sweet Samantha who turns beet-red whenever Jake grins.
We don’t have any kind of policy when it comes to dating co-workers, probably because our profession skews heavily toward women, and the men who craft the policies seem to forget that lesbians and other sexualities apart from hetero exist. But despite the other girls all trying to catch Jake’s attention, he seems to be stuck on me.
Having him ask me out for dinner and drinks kind of made me obvious, especially when he clarified that he was hoping it would be a date. A way for the two of us to get to know each other outside of the library.
I turned him down gently, mainly because—to put it bluntly—I don’t shit where I eat. If I hooked up with Jake and it all went wrong, things would be awkward at work. I like my job. I don’t want to start over at another branch because I couldn’t keep my panties on. He’s cute, and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t attracted to him, but I have my job and my bills to consider.
