CHAPTER TWO--Things That Notice You Back.
I stared at him longer than was polite...
Up close, he looked even less like someone I should trust. His eyes were a strange shade of gray too light, almost reflective and they didn't dart around the way normal people's did. He stood still, relaxed, like the library wasn't full of witnesses and I wasn't one sharp breath away from panicking...
"I don't know what you're talking about," I said finally.
It was the safest answer I had.
A corner of his mouth twitched. Not a smile. More like amusement that hadn't decided whether to show itself.
"You're lying," he said.
My fingers tightened around the strap of my backpack. "You don't know me."
"I know enough," he replied. "Enough to notice you stopped breathing for half a second when you saw me."
"That happens when strangers corner people in libraries."
He tilted his head slightly, studying me the way you'd examine a complicated sentence you weren't sure how to interpret. "Fair."
For a moment, neither of us spoke. The silence felt heavy, pressing down on my ears until I became painfully aware of my own heartbeat. Somewhere between the shelves, someone coughed. Pages rustled. The world kept going.
I didn't.
"Who are you?" I asked.
He didn't answer right away. Instead, his gaze drifted past me, toward the far end of the aisle. My stomach sank.
I turned just as two girls rounded the corner, deep in conversation. They barely spared us a glance before moving on. When I looked back, the man's attention returned to me, sharper now.
"Not here," he said quietly. "Too many eyes."
"I'm not going anywhere with you."
"I know."
That answer unsettled me more than if he'd argued.
He stepped back, giving me space. "I won't touch you. I won't follow you past the front doors. And I won't lie to you."
"That's a bold promise from a stranger."
His lips curved this time, brief and genuine. "You can decide if I'm worth believing."
I hesitated. Every sensible part of my brain screamed no. But there was something else beneath that something restless, tugging at me like an itch I couldn't reach.
The memory of my shadow twisting on the wall flashed through my mind.
"Five minutes," I said. "In public."
"Agreed."
We walked side by side through the library, past the security desk and out into the cool evening air. The sky had deepened into a soft purple, the first stars flickering into view. Students lounged on the steps, headphones in, lives uncomplicated.
We stopped near the fountain, where water murmured quietly over stone.
He leaned against the railing, arms folded. "My name is Caelen."
I didn't offer mine.
"You don't trust easily," he observed.
"I trust evidence."
"Fair again."
I crossed my arms, mirroring him. "Start talking."
His gaze flicked to my shadow, stretched long behind me by the lamplight. For half a heartbeat, it didn't quite match my shape.
"Did anything strange happen to you today?" he asked.
I laughed, sharp and humorless. "You mean besides the blood, the screaming, and you?"
"Yes," he said calmly. "Besides that."
I should have walked away. Instead, I said, "My shadow moved."
His jaw tightened.
"On its own," I added.
He closed his eyes briefly, like someone confirming a suspicion they'd hoped was wrong.
"That's not normal," I said. "Before you say it no, I don't have hallucinations. I don't take drugs. I slept fine."
"I believe you."
"Why?"
"Because if you were imagining things," he said, opening his eyes again, "you wouldn't smell like fear and iron."
My stomach dropped.
"That's not funny."
"I'm not joking."
A group of students passed behind him, laughing loudly. The sound felt wrong, too bright against the tension curling in my chest.
"You should go home tonight," Caelen continued. "Don't take shortcuts. Stay where it's lit."
"Why?" I demanded. "What is going on?"
He hesitated. For the first time since we'd met, uncertainty crossed his face.
"Something woke up this morning," he said. "And it noticed you."
A chill crept down my spine. "You keep saying that like it's a person."
"Not a person," he corrected. "A rule."
I shook my head. "You're not making sense."
"Good," he said softly. "That means you're still safe."
My patience snapped. "You don't get to scare me and then decide what I can know."
His gaze softened, just a little. "I know. And I'm sorry."
The sincerity in his voice threw me off balance.
"Go," he said. "We'll talk again."
"We?"
"I'll find you," he replied. "Before something else does."
Before I could respond, his phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen, then straightened.
"Change of plans," he muttered.
"What now?"
"Someone's already watching us."
I followed his gaze.
Across the quad, near the shadow of the administration building, a man stood perfectly still. He wore a dark coat despite the mild weather, his posture elegant, deliberate. Even from a distance, I could feel his attention like a hand on the back of my neck.
"Who is that?" I whispered.
Caelen's expression hardened. "Trouble."
The man lifted his head and smiled.
It was the kind of smile you give when you already know the ending.
"I need you to leave," Caelen said urgently. "Now."
My feet wouldn't move. "You're not the boss of me."
The man began walking toward us.
Each step was unhurried, confident. Students parted around him without noticing, like he occupied a different layer of reality.
"Go," Caelen snapped.
Something in his voice finally cut through my paralysis. I turned and walked fast toward the dorms. I didn't look back.
I felt it, though.
The way the air shifted as the man passed behind me. The way my skin prickled, like static crawling over bone.
I didn't slow down until I reached my building and slammed the door behind me.
My hands were shaking.
Up in my room, I paced until my legs ached. Mila wasn't back yet. The quiet pressed in, broken only by distant laughter from the hall.
I caught my reflection in the mirror.
For a second, my eyes looked darker than usual.
I blinked.
Normal again.
I sat on my bed and buried my face in my hands.
"Get it together," I whispered.
A soft knock sounded on my door.
I froze.
Another knock. Polite. Patient.
I stood slowly, every nerve screaming. "Mila?" I called.
"No," a voice replied smoothly. "But I do hope we'll be friends."
My blood ran cold.
I opened the door a crack.
The man from the quad stood there, smiling pleasantly. Up close, he was devastatingly handsome in an unsettling way sharp cheekbones, dark eyes that seemed too deep, like they led somewhere else entirely.
"My name is Lucien," he said. "May I come in?"
"No," I said immediately.
He chuckled. "Good. Boundaries are healthy."
"Then why are you here?"
"Curiosity," he replied. "And courtesy."
He leaned slightly closer, lowering his voice. "You left something behind today."
"I don't think so."
"Your scent," he said gently. "It lingers in places it shouldn't."
My pulse hammered. "You need to leave."
"I will," he said. "Soon. But first listen."
Against my will, I did.
"There are worlds layered on top of yours," Lucien continued. "Most people never notice the seams. You did."
"I don't want this."
"No one ever does."
His gaze flicked past me, into the room. "Something about you confuses the old rules."
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"Of course you don't," he said softly. "That's the tragedy."
Footsteps echoed down the hall. Lucien straightened.
"We'll speak again, Aera Blackwood."
My heart stuttered. "How do you know my name?"
He smiled, eyes glinting.
"Because nothing this interesting goes unnoticed for long."
He stepped back, already fading into the ordinary world of the hallway.
"Sleep well," he added. "If you can."
The door closed.
I slid down against it, breath coming in shallow bursts.
Outside, the campus hummed, unaware.
Inside me, something shifted.
And far beneath Blackridge University, the silence cracked
just enough to let the monsters listen...
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