The library was a tomb of blackness. The heavy velvet curtains were drawn, blocking every stray sliver of moonlight, plunging the room into an absolute, suffocating dark.
Ines stood frozen just inside the door, her heart hammering against her ribs. She couldn't see anything. Not the desk, not the chairs, not the thousands of books.
She could only sense him, a tall, warm, breathing shadow in the void. He was close. The scent of his clean soap was sharp in the still air.
He moved past her, his step confident and silent on the thick carpet. He knew this room, even in the dark. She heard the soft, heavy shush of the curtains being pulled aside, not to let light in, but to ensure no light from within would escape. He was sealing them in.
A sharp scratch tore through the silence, making Ines turn.
A spark.
