The cab ride was suffocatingly silent.
Amelia kept glancing over her shoulder, expecting to see black cars trailing behind them or agents emerging from the shifting sea of headlights. But the streets were choked with traffic, and for now, they were just another pair of strangers trying to disappear into the city.
Celeste sat beside her, unmoving, her fingers gripping the fabric of her dress. Her eyes were distant, lost in something Amelia couldn't reach. She hadn't spoken since they fled the apartment, and the silence between them felt heavy with unspoken fears.
"I know a place," Amelia had told her. She hoped she wasn't wrong.
They reached their destination ten minutes later. Amelia threw a handful of crumpled bills at the driver and pulled Celeste out of the cab before he could even count the change.
They stood in front of a narrow brick building, wedged between two taller ones. A small metal sign hung above the door, paint peeling at the edges. Lina's Antiques & Curiosities.
Celeste blinked. "A curiosity shop?"
Amelia exhaled, already reaching for the door handle. "Trust me."
The bell above the door jingled softly as they stepped inside.
The air smelled like old wood, lavender, and something faintly metallic. Dim golden light bathed the space, reflecting off glass display cases filled with antique jewelry, books with frayed covers, and delicate porcelain figures. Every available surface was crammed with trinkets—candlesticks, carved animal bones, jars filled with unknown substances. The air felt thick, almost charged, as if the shop itself was humming with secrets.
At the counter, hunched over an open book, was a woman with short, silvery-blonde hair and a cigarette tucked behind her ear.
Lina.
She looked up the moment Amelia stepped inside, her sharp, dark eyes locking onto hers. Then her gaze slid to Celeste.
Lina's expression didn't change, but something flickered behind her eyes.
"Well," she murmured, snapping her book shut. "Didn't think I'd see you again so soon."
Amelia swallowed. "I need your help."
Lina sighed, rubbing her temple. "Yeah, I figured." She gestured at Celeste. "And I'm guessing she's the reason?"
Celeste stiffened slightly, and Amelia instinctively stepped closer to her. "She's with me," Amelia said, her voice firm. "And we don't have much time."
Lina studied them for a long moment before letting out a resigned sigh.
"Alright. Come on."
She led them through a beaded curtain into the back room—a space far more chaotic than the front of the shop. Books stacked haphazardly on every surface, maps pinned to the walls, half-burned candles pooling wax onto mismatched saucers. The place felt like a crossroads between an old apothecary and a mad scientist's workshop.
Lina cleared a chair of scattered tarot cards and sat down, gesturing for them to do the same. Amelia stayed standing.
"Start talking," Lina said.
Amelia took a breath. "Celeste isn't… normal."
Lina raised an eyebrow. "No kidding."
Amelia hesitated before continuing. "She came out of one of my paintings."
Lina's fingers, which had been idly playing with a silver coin, stilled.
Amelia continued. "And now, people are after her. Agents, or whatever they are. They're tracking us. She—" Amelia glanced at Celeste. "She thinks if she can remember how she was created, we can stop them."
Lina was quiet for a long moment. Then, very softly, she said, "I knew something was off about you."
Amelia's breath hitched. "What?"
Lina leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. "You ever wonder why your art is the way it is? Why your paintings have always felt alive?"
Amelia's stomach twisted. "What are you talking about?"
Lina exhaled. "Your mother."
Silence.
A chill ran down Amelia's spine.
"What about my mother?"
Lina's expression darkened. "She wasn't just some artist, Amelia. She was something more."
Amelia's mind reeled. "No. That doesn't make sense—"
"Doesn't it?" Lina gestured at Celeste. "You brought a painting to life, Amelia. That's not normal."
Celeste reached for Amelia's hand, squeezing gently. Amelia barely noticed.
Lina sat back, crossing her arms. "If you want answers, you're gonna have to dig into your past. Because I have a feeling this started long before you ever painted her."
Amelia's heart pounded.
She had spent so long burying her past.
Now, she had no choice but to unearth it.
Lina moved toward a locked cabinet in the corner of the room, fingers brushing over the wood before she pulled out a small key. Amelia and Celeste watched in silence as she opened it and withdrew an old, leather-bound book.
Lina set it down on the table between them with a quiet thump.
"This," she said, "belonged to your mother."
Amelia froze.
"I—" Her voice caught in her throat. "That's not possible. My dad kept everything of hers locked away. There's no way—"
Lina tapped a finger against the cover. "I got this from someone who knew her. Someone who told me to keep it safe. In case you ever came looking."
Amelia's hands shook as she reached for the book. The leather was warm beneath her fingers, as if it had been waiting for her.
She opened it.
The pages were filled with sketches, notes in a handwriting she didn't recognize. Symbols she couldn't make sense of. But one thing stood out immediately—paintings.
Paintings of people.
Amelia's breath caught.
Some were faded, but one in particular looked eerily familiar. A girl, standing in the middle of a canvas, colors swirling around her like a dream made real.
Celeste.
Amelia's head snapped up. "This—this can't be—"
Lina's voice was quiet. "Your mother had the same gift, Amelia."
Gift.
Amelia's pulse roared in her ears.
Celeste leaned over, staring at the page. Her fingers brushed over the image, and something shifted. The ink shimmered, almost as if it were breathing.
Lina cursed under her breath. "Yeah. That's what I was afraid of."
Amelia slammed the book shut. "What the hell is going on?"
Lina exhaled. "Your mother's art was never just art. She could create things, Amelia. Bring things to life. Just like you did." She gestured at Celeste. "And now, it looks like someone else knows about it."
Amelia felt like the ground was shifting beneath her.
Celeste's voice was soft. "What if they're not just after me?"
Amelia turned to her, dread curling in her stomach.
Celeste met her gaze. "What if they're after you, too?"
A cold chill ran down Amelia's spine.
Because for the first time, she realized—Celeste might not be the only one in danger.