Silence buzzed in the auction room like a fly at a window. The anxious expressions and jittery limbs of the other Librarians mirrored Jake's own pent-up energy, and though nobody spoke, he could tell what they were thinking.

We need to get out.

That was easier said than done. They weren't technically trapped, but none of them could forget the Nalusa Falaya. It could be anywhere, and if it caught them...

Frustrated, he leaned forward to put his elbows on his knees and buried both hands in his hair. He still perched on a chair between Cindi and Flynn, who sat in the same restless quiet that was consuming him. Jones was the only one on his feet, pacing down the aisle and glancing at the ceiling as though looking for an escape.

"This is ridiculous," Cindi said at last. "We can't stay here forever."

"Not forever," Jones agreed. "But I vote 'stay here until Eve comes back'."

"We can't even be sure this room is safe," Cindi said.

"We know the hallway isn't," Flynn said.

"What else do you know about the shadow monster?" Jones asked. "There has to be some way to defeat it, right?" He stopped pacing to look expectantly at Jake, waiting faithfully for the answer.

But he didn't have one. All he could muster was a half shrug and a dismal, "Nothing. It's an ancient creature summoned by the flute. Without the flute, there's nothing we can do to it."

"Then we should go after the flute," Cindi said.

"David can control the Nalusa Falaya," Jake said. "It isn't safe to go after it."

"Safe!" Cindi snapped. She stood, turning to put her back to the door and glowering down at Jake and Flynn. "Nothing is safe. That's the whole reason I joined DOSA. Before, I was just a normal college student, two months away from graduating and six months from marrying my fiancé. Then one day he found these cufflinks, and—" She broke off and clenched her jaw and her fists. Her eyes were red, but clear and dry as she sucked in a breath and went on. "He used to hang out in pawn shops when he was stressed. He liked to find pieces of history that people had forgotten, tell their stories. He came home one day with silver cufflinks, said he found them at the shop and that he wanted to wear them for the wedding. The shopkeeper told him they were cursed, but John thought it made a great story. True love breaks curses, he said."

"It does," Flynn said quietly.

Cindi scoffed. "Yeah. The next morning, John had a heart attack. What kind of 24-year-old has a heart attack? I'm the one who found him, when I got home after work… it had to have happened just a few minutes after I left that morning. So I guess true love didn't break that curse, did it?"

"I'm sorry," Flynn said, sympathy thick in his voice. He lost a few of his own loves over the years, Jake knew.

Cindi took a deep breath and went on. "Two days later, a DOSA agent showed up to collect the cufflinks. She said they searched out things like that, cursed things… magical things. And they took care of them. So I went with her."

"DOSA taking care of things," Jones muttered. "That's one interpretation."

"When I learned about the Library," Cindi went on, glaring at him. "I thought our missions were essentially the same. I didn't agree with the agents who said we were adversaries. I figured we were playing different positions on the same team."

"Tell that to the rest of your mates," Jones said.

"The rest of her mates aren't here," Flynn said. "We're on our own, and we can either treat each other like enemies or like allies. I think Cindi's right. We can't stay here forever."

"You really want to go wandering around the hall with that thing on the loose?" Jones asked.

"We can always hide in another room if you think that's safer," Cindi said.

Jake wanted to argue, but she had a point—a door certainly wouldn't stop a creature made of shadow. They might as well do something productive while they waited.

"Fine," he said, stepping over his chair to join Cindi at the door. To make himself feel better, he added, "Stay behind me."

She shifted aside and let him open the door to the empty hallway. When he paused to study the shadows—completely normal shadows, he told himself, not sinister in any way—she made a disgusted sound and pushed past him. Jones went after her, throwing a concerned glance at Jake, but Flynn hesitated inside the door and tilted his head.

"You okay?"

"Fine," Jake grunted.

Flynn made a face. "I know you were closer to the Nalusa Falaya than I was, but I wasn't expecting you to be so affected by it."

"It's not that," Jake said.

"Then what?"

"Nothing."

"It's your friend, right?" Flynn said. "He fooled all of us, not just you."

Jake sighed. "No, David was right. I have too much faith in people."

"You have exactly the right amount of faith in people," Flynn said. "It's what makes you such a good Librarian. More than your knowledge of art or history, more than your resourcefulness, more than your talent with languages—your faith in people is what makes the difference on this team. You're the reason Cassandra worked so hard to earn our trust back at the beginning. Do you remember? She wanted your faith. She wanted you to believe in her—needed you to believe in her—before she could move on to become a true Librarian. Ezekiel needed someone to believe that he could be more than a thief, and there you were. Eve needed someone to put faith in her as a leader, and you—you gave it to them. Every time they needed someone to believe in them, you were there." He gave Jake a crooked smile. "Even Jenkins—even me. We've all needed someone to believe in us, and it's always been you. Your faith keeps us going, Jacob. Don't lose it in yourself now."

Jake looked away and stuffed his hands into his jacket pockets. "Heck of a pep talk, Flynn."

"Yeah, well," Flynn said, sounding pleased. "That's what makes me such a good Librarian."

It didn't use to be. Jake remembered when Flynn used to avoid the other Librarians, when he used their mistakes as proof that he shouldn't be working with them. Jake had always credited Eve for the change in Flynn, but maybe—maybe it was all of them.

Maybe this was just one more thing he needed to turn around.

"Come on," Flynn said. "Before they leave us behind." He hurried after Cindi and Jones, giving Jake a moment to collect himself. The fluorescent lighting overhead was giving Jake a headache, but he tried to block it out as he closed his eyes and took a slow, even breath through his nose. He pictured himself back at the Monkey King's training grounds, enveloped in warm sunlight and a quiet that was peaceful rather than oppressive.

"Stone?" Jones called, shattering the image. Jake let out the rest of his breath and jogged after them, but they'd stopped a few yards ahead.

"What is it?" he asked warily.

Jones pointed down the hall, where a figure stood with his hands up. "Don't shoot," he said, that annoying, cocky voice of his completely devoid of remorse.

"David." Jake pushed between Jones and Cindi and stood in front of them, feet planted and arms folded. There was blood on David's face, which Jake noted with a lack of sympathy.

"Yeah, I know," David said, shrugging without lowering his arms. "But I'll trade you news if you don't attack me now."

"What kind of news?" Flynn asked. He moved to Jake's side but stopped there, waiting. Jones shifted to his other side, with Cindi beside him. They took up the whole hallway, forming a blockade that David couldn't have gotten through even if he was stupid enough to try.

But he wasn't that stupid. He just continued toward them until he was half a dozen feet away, and then he shoved his hands in his pockets and hunched up his shoulders as though he were cold. Making himself look smaller, Jake figured. Less of a threat.

Smart and manipulative. Just like old times.

"I ran into your brother," he said.

Jake frowned. "Which one?"

"I think your Guardian called him Spencer."

So Alex was still trapped in the basement. Jake wasn't sure if he should feel disappointed or relieved—at least in the basement, he should be safe from the Nalusa Falaya. "That your news?" he said.

"I assume you still like to get the bad news first," David said.

Jake scowled—it was irritating that he remembered that. He considered lying and saying he'd changed his mind, but that would only waste time, so he gave a jerky nod and grunted, "Get on with it."

"Your Guardian and your brother tried to take the flute from me and broke it," David said. "Which means the Nalusa Falaya is no longer under my control—or anybody's control—and that is very bad for all of us."

Cindi tensed. "You mean it's loose?"

"Uh, yes and no," David said. "It's in the halls somewhere, but Jake's brother is fending it off."

Dread seeped through Jake's limbs. "Fending it off how?" he asked. His voice was carefully controlled, low and even, but his heart was already racing.

"I don't really know," David admitted. "I've never seen anyone do that before. People freeze up all the time, until it makes them run, but that's not what happened. He turned toward it. He chose to stay behind so your Guardian could escape. And if he can do that..."

He chose to stay behind. That didn't make any sense. Jake remembered the cold fear, the conviction that his death was only moments away, and the Nalusa Falaya hadn't even been targeting him. How could Eliot choose to stay with that kind of fear? "How do you beat it?" Jake demanded.

David shook his head. "You don't. Or if you do, I don't know how."

"That better not be the good news," Flynn said.

"Ah," David said, as though just remembering. "The good news is that I helped your Guardian free your friend. Uh, one of them. The peppy girl."

"Cassandra," Flynn said.

David shrugged. "Sure. But the other one is with the Curator, in her multidimensional lair—that's the bad news—but the other good news is that I opened the portal to it and the ladies are on their way to rescue him."

"Without you," Flynn noted.

"That was the deal," David said. "Besides, your Guardian seemed more than capable. I felt like I'd just get in the way."

"More likely you felt like you wanted to get out before the Nalusa Falaya could catch up to its old handler," Jones said.

The smile on David's face got wider. "Call it what you want, it has the same effect. So I'll tell you the same thing I told them. When the Nalusa Falaya finishes with Spencer—sorry, Jake—it's going to come for the rest of us. And it's going to enjoy its hunt as long as it can. I'd get out of here while you have the chance."

"No," Jake said.

"Listen, I know you—"

"No." Jake took a step forward. "You listen to me, David, because I need you to understand what I'm about to say. You think you're the only one who remembers the good ol' days? You loved art because you said it put you inside the mind of the painter. You wanted to see the world from as many viewpoints as possible. Do you remember?"

"We were kids," David said.

"I don't believe you can lose something like that," Jake said. "You don't just stop wanting to understand the world. You don't stop loving art. So what else changed? What convinced you that what you're doing is sustainable?"

David snorted. "Who said anything about sustainable? Art is great, Jake, and so is love and perspective and whatever, but it's naïve. The real world doesn't care what your perspective is, it only cares about what it can take from you."

"You seem to have taken plenty," Jake said. "What have you given back?"

He didn't answer. Jake knew he wanted to—he could see the way his mouth tightened at the corners, forming and discarding an argument that he didn't have a hope of winning. Because deep inside, he knew Jake was right. The old David would have been ashamed of what his life had become, just as Jake had been ashamed of his life before the Library.

"Come with us," Jake said. "Help us find Alex, and then we'll all get out together."

"That's not how real life works," David said.

Jake uncrossed his arms, bringing down a small barrier between them. "That's how it worked when my truck broke down and I needed a ride back home," he said. "You drove 600 miles out of your way to drop me off. What did you get out of that?"

"Come on, that's not the same thing."

"The principle is the same," Jake said. "You were happy to help me then." He chanced a half smile and another step forward. "It'll be a lot more fun this time."

"Putting my life on the line for a bunch of strangers isn't my idea of fun," David said. He glanced at Flynn and added, "No offense."

But there was a light in his eyes that hadn't been there before. A glimpse of the old David had broken through, and Jake wasn't about to let it go. "We can help you afterwards," he said. "We can get you away from the Curator. Keep you safe."

David paused, making them wait, but Jake could see that he'd already made up his mind. "Fine," he said at last. "If you help me afterwards, I'll help you now."

"Hang on," Jones said, pulling at Jake's elbow and turning them to put their backs to David. "Are we sure we can trust this guy?"

Flynn had half-turned with them, keeping one eye on David while leaning in to listen to Jones. He looked at Jake, waiting for his answer, his eyebrows raised in invitation.

"Yeah," Jake said, his eyes on Flynn. "We can trust him. We just gotta have a little faith."