Chapter 1
Veronica closed the door behind her, being very careful not to make any noise.
Still trying to be as quiet as possible, she waved a small, silent greeting to the lady over the counter and softly put her bag on the table nearest to the door. Veronica knew she really didn't have to be so careful with her motions. The place was empty, after all. She didn't need to, but silence was a kind of respect she felt libraries demanded, regardless of how many people there were. That, and the calm atmosphere surrounding her was one of the few things able to keep her sane lately.
As she slowly made her way to the bookshelves, the smell of old books and dust got stronger and stronger in the air, although they didn't bother her nose anymore. She had plenty of time to get used to them. Over the course of only a few weeks, Veronica had come to know every corner of that small, moldy, definitely underfunded library like the palm of her hand.
Sherwood Public Library was where she spent most of her free time ever since what happened with Heather Chandler. As far as everyone knew, Veronica had been the most affected by Chandler's death, going so far as to exile herself from the Heathers, and from most of the school. The only people that still heard from her once in a while were Martha, who had been incredibly patient with her during everything that happened — even after that stupid Remington party, and Heather McNamara, with whom she had weirdly bonded after Heather's death. Duke, quite predictably, couldn't give less of a shit about her.
JD? She hadn't seen him since then and, being honest, she had no desire to. For her, he became no more than a painful reminder of her sin. What hurt Veronica the most is that he didn't seem to feel remorse at all. In fact, he seemed almost pleased with what they'd done. The image of his stupid, subtle smirk as Heather collapsed to the ground suddenly came to Veronica's head, and she winced at the thought. Shaking her head, she diverted all of her focus into finding a book good enough to distract her.
As she went to grab a copy of one of Dostoyevski's books — Crime and Punishment, quite ironically — spotted something falling on the corner of her eye, culminating in a loud thump. Approaching the book that had just fallen, she quickly bent over to pick it up. It was a small, thin book bound by a black leather cover, no author or title to be found. The closest thing to information she could find was on the first page, a warning in neat cursive writing that simply read:
If you play carelessly with the flames of life, you may be burned for all eternity.
***
For about two hours, Veronica had found herself completely hunched over a long wooden table, all of her school books spread out in front of her. Normally she'd feel bad about taking up so much space, but under the guise of homework those books provided the perfect camouflage for the book whose content she was actually scanning. Besides, it wasn't like there was anyone else there to inconvenience anyways.
Suddenly noticing a sharp pain in her back, she sat straight for a moment before instinctively hunching over again and flipping the book from start to end one more time. The chapters in the summary read: an introduction to spirits: understanding the difference between body and soul, the myth of death in different cultures...
Veronica stopped at chapter three.
How to bring someone back from the dead.
No fucking way.
In many ways, Veronica just couldn't believe was was in front of her. Necromancy was a ridiculous concept, coming straight out of a comic book the geeks in her school would discuss at lenght during lunchtime. Surely it had to be some sort of weird role-playing thing, or something made by someone from school as a prank. It couldn't be anything else.
Against her better judgement, she started to listen to the small part of her that wanted to entertain the thought, if only for a brief moment. If there really was a way to undo her mistake, to…bring Heather back, wasn't it her obligation to do it? After all, she was the one who- the thought made Veronica wince once again, cutting her inner monologue short.
Either way, it wasn't like the book was real, was it? Absolutely nothing could ever bring Heather back, Veronica kept uttering these words to herself much before ever finding the book. Still, the small part of her that wanted it to be real now had gotten much bigger and louder, so that she could no longer ignore the nagging feeling that crept up in her stomach every time she touched that cursed book. Getting up, she carefully hid it beneath her math textbook, and marched towards the library counter. There was one last thing she wanted to verify.
"Um, hi Ms. Elliot" She leaned awkwardly against the front balcony, immediately grabbing the attention of the older woman.
"Yes, Veronica?" It wasn't often that Veronica actually got to get a good glimpse of the librarian behind the counter. She was a caucasian woman that was, or at least looked no older than her early 30's. Her light brown hair had overgrown bangs that fell over her forehead and slightly to the sides of her round glasses, adding to the geeky charm of a red-and-black striped sweatshirt that was way too big for her. She could perhaps be compared to a younger version of Ms. Fleming, although the librarian's features were slightly more delicate.
"I'm doing research for history class, and I need to find something about uh…how death was viewed in different cultures." She took a few moments to remember. "Do you think there are any books about that here? I couldn't find any."
"Hmm...I'm not really sure, but I can check it out for you." The librarian smiled gently at Veronica, looking at the girl over her horn-rimmed glasses. The older woman then turned all her focus to her computer, typing a small string of words before waiting for a few seconds. "Oh...I don't think we have any books like that here. I'm sorry, dear."
"No, no, it's fine..." the girl just kind of hurriedly mumbled the words. "You've helped me a lot."
Without saying another word, Veronica went to her table. She quickly started picking up her textbooks one by one, and forcefully shoving them in her bag — literature, history, math, and…
She hesitated. Her fingertips ran along the leather cover slowly before she finally had the courage to pick up the last book from the table.
Surely if nobody knew it was there, nobody would notice it was gone...right?
Her eyes stayed fixated on the black, minimalistic cover. This could be a mistake. Still, she proceeded to shove it inside her bag much like she did with the previous books, before leaving the library with the same quietness she had entered before.