Chapter 4
I sat cross-legged on the carpet in front of the Louis XV wardrobe and closed my eyes. But knowing Nick was there, watching me, was too distracting. I couldn't quiet my mind. I took a deep breath, then another. I focused on everything around me that wasn't Nick. The soft vibration from cars passing by outside the library windows. The even softer sound of three kittens purring together in their cat bed next to the cold fireplace. The smell of old books and parchment that surrounded me.
But mostly I focused on the wardrobe itself. My eyes found every chip in the wood, every scuff mark on its spindly little legs. My nose could still detect the coppery tang of blood from the gangster who had been stabbed in 1928 then traveled across time to die at my feet in the present.
Then I cl
