Nightkeepers

knowing her husband all too well.

‘‘Thanks for understanding, hon.’’ Dick’s voice gained that false cheer that she’d come to hate over the past few months. ‘‘Okay, then, I have to go. I’ll try not to wake you when I get home. Love you.’’

He hung up before she said anything, which was probably just as well, because she didn’t know what she would have said in return. She loved him; she really did. And she knew he loved her. But she was tired and discouraged with their marriage, and had a feeling he felt the same way, which left them . . . nowhere, really, and sinking fast. The more months that went by without the pee stick showing positive, the more distant he became. Or maybe that was her drawing away, like he said. Maybe both. But she’d even gotten to the point of wondering why they were going to bother for another try at in vitro when they barely talked to each other anymore beyond vapid pleasantries and scheduling. She’d wanted a baby to add to her and Dick’s life together, not as an attempt to fix it.

Feeling hollow and achy, she sat for a moment with the phone pressed against her ear before she sighed and snapped the receiver back in its charger.

Lucius crossed to the side of her desk and folded his long limbs into an easy, graceful crouch, so they were eye-to-eye. ‘‘Everything okay?’’

Carrying a battered canvas knapsack over his shoulder, wearing worn jeans, a T-shirt, and sandals, with his hazel eyes clear and guileless, his brown hair too long to be stylish, too short to be a fashion statement, he looked so damn young. Too damn young. The eight years separating them could’ve been twenty, the way she was feeling these days—at least, that was what she told herself, because it was best to think of him as a boy rather than a man, better to ignore the occasional urge to lean on him, especially now, when she was so close to falling apart.

Instead, she forced herself to lean away. ‘‘I’m fine.’’

He tilted his head. ‘‘You’ve been saying that a lot lately,’’ he said. ‘‘Why don’t I believe you?’’

Anna exhaled. ‘‘Weren’t you headed to the library?’’

‘‘I’m on my way.’’

But he didn’t move, just kept looking at her until she was tempted to wipe a palm across her face, thinking she had something on her cheek. A hint of something sparkled in the air between them, an attraction that had no business existing.

‘‘Lucius,’’ she finally whispered, feeling weak and small. ‘‘Please go.’’

‘‘I will. But first, I have something for you.’’ He shifted, dipped into his knapsack, and pulled out a flat, paper- wrapped package. He held it out to her. ‘‘A guy came by my office and asked me to get this to you. I’m not sure why he gave it to me and not you, but . . .’’

She didn’t hear the rest of his sentence, as his voice faded to a buzz—or maybe the buzz was coming off the package, she couldn’t tell. She felt the power before she recognized the handwriting, the shock jolting through her like heat. Like temptation.

‘‘I’ll take it.’’ She snatched the thing away from Lucius and gritted her teeth when the magic sang up her arm, even through the wrapping.

What the hell was in there?

I don’t care, she told herself sternly. This means nothing to me now. I’m a wife. I’m trying to become a mother. I’m not that person anymore.

Yet the power called to her, reaching deep down inside and curling around her soul, warming the places that had grown so cold.

‘‘What man?’’ she asked, more for something to say than because she needed to know. It would’ve been Strike, her baby brother, coming to bring her back to the fold.

‘‘He didn’t give a name, just told me to take the package straight to you, nobody else.’’ Lucius frowned. ‘‘Huh . . . that’s weird. I can’t really picture him. I know there was something seriously cool about him, but . . .’’ He scrubbed a hand down the back of his neck, and as he did so, she saw that the coarse hairs on his forearm were raised, as if drawn upright by static electricity. His voice went serious. ‘‘What’s going on, Anna? Things have felt . . . weird around here since the night you conked out, and I’m not the only one who’s noticed it. Half the artifacts are suddenly under lock and key, you’ve got strangers dropping off mysterious packages, the interns are practically living at the library, and I get the feeling you’d be happy if I joined them.’’ He paused. ‘‘I’d like to think you know me better than that, so why don’t you spare us both the argument and tell me what’s up?’’

Anna almost told him, but didn’t, because he wasn’t part of what was going on behind the scenes of everyday life. Hell, she wasn’t even part of it, not anymore. She was a consultant. A convenience. I’ll give it to Anna, she could picture Strike saying. She’ll translate it.

No, she decided, she bloody well wouldn’t.

‘‘Trust me, you’re better off not knowing,’’ she said, pinching the bridge of her nose. ‘‘I’m trying to spare you a headache you can’t even begin to understand.’’

‘‘I’m tougher than I look.’’

‘‘It’s not about being tough; it’s about—’’ She broke off, shaking her head. ‘‘Never mind. Everything is fine. I’m fine; I promise.’’ She forced a smile. ‘‘And if it feels like I keep shuffling you off to the library, it’s because I do. Or have you forgotten that you’re defending your dissertation in a few weeks?’’

Refusing to be distracted, he tapped the package, which she still clutched in both hands. ‘‘Are you going to let me see what’s in there?’’

Not on your life, she thought, but said aloud, ‘‘Maybe later.’’

‘‘Which means no.’’ His voice held faint reproach, but his grin was pure and sweet and held just enough of the devil to have her taking a second look when he said, ‘‘You know I’ll get a look eventually. I have my ways.’’

‘‘Keep on believing that.’’ She waved him out. ‘‘We all need our little delusions.’’

But her smile died the moment he was out the door. She stared down at the flat packet. It seemed like such a