The worrying was driving me crazy.
Around seven o'clock, Daphne came into the library, along with her boyfriend, band geek Carson Cal ahan. I waved at them, but Nickamedes gave me such a venomous look that I didn't leave the counter to go talk to them, even though I real y, real y wanted to tel Daphne about the SUV. The Valkyrie was supposed to come over to my dorm room after my shift tonight anyway, so I'd just wait to tel her then. It wasn't the kind of thing I wanted to casual y text her about.
Final y, at around eight thirty, the library started to clear out for the night. I packed up my own books, hoping that Nickamedes would let me leave early. But, being the giant pain in my ass that he was, the librarian pushed another cart of books over to me.
"I have a few more e-mails to send out before I close down the library," Nickamedes said. "I trust that you can shelve these books in the meantime, Gwendolyn, and not make any trouble while you're at it."
"Cross my heart." I made an exaggerated X over my chest.
"No trouble at al ."
The librarian gave me another cold, suspicious glare before disappearing into the glass office complex. I stuck out my tongue at his retreating back. Yeah, I knew he was stil pissed I'd wrecked the library, but that had been weeks ago, and I'd helped him clean up the damage. Nickamedes so needed to get over it. It wasn't like I'd decided to destroy his precious library on purpose-I'd just been trying to keep Jasmine from kil ing me. It wasn't my fault we'd knocked over thousands of books in the process.
I grabbed the old, rickety cart and pushed it into the stacks, having to fight against the loose wheel that always pul ed to the right. I shelved books for the next twenty minutes, sliding al the thick volumes back into their proper places. Despite my psychometry, I didn't get much of a vibe off the books, since so many kids had thumbed through them over the years. They were just history books, used for research purposes and class assignments. Nobody had any other real interest in them. Usual y, I didn't get much of a feeling off stuff that people used every day or items that had a specific purpose or function, like dishes, tables, or chairs.
I only got the whammies-the big, vivid, high-def flashes of images and feelings-when I touched an object that someone had a deep, personal attachment to, like a treasured family heirloom ring or a photo of the kid stepbrother who someone secretly despised.
When I'd first come to Mythos, I'd hated working in the library because, wel , I'd hated pretty much everything about the academy. Especial y the fact that I'd been taken out of my old school and away from al my old friends with no real explanation.
But now I kind of liked roaming through the stacks-mainly because of al the cool artifacts on display.
It wasn't cal ed the Library of Antiquities for nothing.
Hundreds of glass cases could be found throughout the various floors of the library, each one containing an item that had once belonged to someone or something important in the mythological world. Like the shield that Achil es had used during the Trojan War, or the tattered shoes that Pysche had worn as she wandered the world in search of her husband, Eros, the Greek god of love. I peered into al the cases I passed, taking a minute to read the silver plaques stuck on the fronts or the smal white cards tucked inside that told me what the objects were, who had used them, and what magic they might have.
I'd just finished reading about the loom Arachne had used to test her weaving skil s against those of the Greek goddess Athena when something rustled in the next aisle over, and a flash of movement caught my eye.
"Hel o?" I said, peering in that direction. "Is someone there?"
Yeah, cal ing out was probably the wrong thing to do, but I didn't want to step around the far end of the aisle and trip over a couple of kids doing the nasty. I'd done that twice last week, which had been two times too many.
"Hel ooo," I said, pushing the cart toward the end of the aisle.
I wiggled the wheels back and forth, making them squeak-squeak-squeak even more than usual. Hopeful y, if there were some kids going at it, they would hear the noise and have the good sense to pul their clothes back up-or down-where they belonged.
I pushed the cart past the end of the aisle and stepped out into the main library space. "The library's closing in a few minutes-"
An arrow zipped through the air and thunked into the bookcase beside my head.
It quivered there, wobbling back and forth ever so slightly, just like the ones I'd shot into the target in the gym this morning.
A foot closer, and it would have dril ed straight into my skul .
That's when my brain caught up with my eyes, and I realized that, you know, someone was actual y shooting at me.
I immediately dropped to my knees and crabbed backward among the stacks, dragging the metal cart along with me and wincing at al the freaking noise it made. I didn't know if I was out of the archer's line of sight or not, but surely, he couldn't shoot at me through the cart-could he? Were there magical bows and arrows that could do that sort of thing?
Shit, shit, shit! Why did this always happen to me? You'd think the library would be one of the safest, most boring places at Mythos instead of one of the deadliest. This was the second time someone had tried to kil me in here. I so needed to work somewhere else on campus.
I huddled in the stacks, my back against a bookshelf, knees tucked into my chest, and the cart positioned in front of me. My breath puffed out of my mouth in sharp, short, ragged gasps. It took me several seconds and some deep, deep gulps of air before I was able to notice anything but the crazy thump-thump-thump of my heart and the blood roaring in my ears. I forced myself to focus, to listen, and to keep the panic to a minimum. You know, so I could maybe hear whether or not the mysterious archer was nocking another arrow in his bow and coming my way with it.
Silence-I heard nothing but absolute, stil , dead freaking silence.
I stayed where I was. The seconds ticked by, going past one minute, then two, but I stil didn't hear anything.
Whoever the archer was, I hoped he was long gone by now, but I wasn't going to be stupid enough to just go about my business, like everything was normal. I might not be a highly trained warrior like al the other kids, but even I knew that assuming the bad guy was gone would be a quick, dumb way to die.
As quietly as I could, I shoved the metal cart away and crawled to the opposite end of the aisle, keeping close to the shelves and the floor. I paused there and listened some more.
When I didn't hear anything, I slowly stuck my head around the corner.
Empty-the library was completely empty.
Nobody was studying at the tables. Nobody was packing up their stuff. Nobody was walking toward the double doors with a backpack slung over their shoulder. Even Mrs.