Nora's POV
I rotate the ancient scarab between my fingers, searching for any trace of malevolent energy. Nothing. Just smooth obsidian that catches the moonlight streaming through the library windows. Hours have crawled by since I returned from the hospital, and Renata sleeps peacefully in her bassinet beside my bed. The baby monitor rests in my robe pocket, though my familiars would alert me faster than any electronic device if she stirred.
The small stone stoop outside the library door has become my refuge. We never use this entrance, but someday I dream of replacing those weathered headstones with a proper walkway leading to the pool. This door once welcomed patients when the house belonged to a physician decades ago. When time allows, I'll dig through the Vivian Hill library archives to uncover this property's hidden history and forgotten photographs.
