Except for the eerie blue eyes, I can't recall much about my first encounter with the library's resident ghost. What I remember is that I had my mouth open but couldn't articulate a scream while my heartbeat thumped in my ears and my legs refused to carry me away.

"Lynn, aren't you done yet?" Conny's voice came muffled through the room from the front, oblivious to my plight.

At least her words had the double effect of tearing me out of my petrified state and bringing the lamp back to life with a reluctant flicker. It bathed the aisle in glaring light right in time for me to witness the blue-eyed stranger fading away into thin air. With shaking knees and a queasy stomach, I clasped the weight of Cervantes' masterpiece against my heaving chest.

"Lynn, I'd like to close shop and catch my bus. You can finish tomorrow morning."

There was an edge to the words now, and I shook my paralysis, slipped Don Quixote into its slot, and rushed back to the reception area. "All done, I'm on my way."

Conny already wore her coat, a matching cashmere scarf, and slipped into her gloves. In a hurry, I picked up my parka and backpack and followed her out of the premises on still wobbly feet. Whatever or whoever I had encountered a minute ago, I hadn't the slightest wish of remaining alone with a creepy ghost or projection of my fears in the library for a single minute.

After saying goodbye to Conny at the bus stop, I walked towards the uni district, glad I was supposed to reunite with two friends at our old meeting point near the station. Despite pursuing different careers, we had made it a habit to spend time together every other week, and seeing familiar faces and catching up was what I needed that night. Also, they knew about my messy breakup with Oliver and would avoid the topic like the plague, for which I was grateful. What they didn't know yet was that I found a job.

Becca waited at the corner, her rainbow coloured hat and scarf making her easy to pick out of any crowd, wearing a broad grin on her dark features. "Lynn, how are you?"

She enclosed me in a generous hug before she held me at arm's length to study my face. "You look tired, girl. Still not over that useless prick?"

So much for avoiding the Oliver topic. "No, I'm fine. It was just a long day on the job."

"You got what?" A muscular hand whirled me around, and I found myself face to face with Sim's sparkling green eyes and her unruly red mane. "A proper job?" She pecked Becca on the mouth but turned her attention back to me. "That's beyond fantastic—you must tell us all about it."

Confronted with so much genuine enthusiasm, I couldn't help but smile, too. "It's nothing grand, but I started today as a replacement librarian in the town library."

"A librarian? That's perfect for a bookworm like you. But I need more details—how is it?"

I knew Sim wouldn't give in and shrugged. "The place and my boss are marvellous. Still, I was only there a single day and can't say much."

Becca, who was the more sensitive of the pair, squinted her brown eyes to scrutinise me through her half-moon glasses. "And what's the hook?"

"There is none." I should have known I couldn't fool her, but I wasn't ready to talk about dissolving strangers and blue cats, not when I couldn't be sure they weren't a product of my imagination. Instead, I plunged into the cold water and told them what I could. "It was pure luck I stumbled over the note the other day in the library window, but I already love the job." I did, and I also needed the money, but they knew this. "Although there is a coworker I'm not convinced I'll get along with, and I still don't know if I'm qualified. I'm not very good with people, as you know."

The fold on Becca's forehead smoothened as she embraced me. "Oh Lynn, you'll do great. Never doubt yourself. And if your coworker turns out to be a hassle, Sim and I will visit and set him straight."

My mood lightened. "It's her, not him, and perhaps I'm just imagining things. But I'll call you if we don't get along, I promise."

She hooked her left arm into mine and the right into Sim's. "Know what? We need to celebrate Lynn's first job. What about a drink at Paul's and the movies later?"

Paul's it was, but of course, we didn't stop at one drink, and after the third, Sim checked her phone. "Are we still good for a film? There is a horror flick bound to start in half an hour."

I glanced at her tiny screen. "I guess I shouldn't, since I have to get up early and after today, I don't think it's a good idea to watch anything with ghosts."

"Why? Is your library haunted?" Becca's eyes twinkled, but her grin faded when she read my face. "Don't tell me it's true."

"I don't know what I've seen. It's probably just the strain of the last days."

Sim leaned over the table. "No, you can't let us hanging like this. I love a good ghost story, and I'll drag you to that movie if you don't tell us the details."

"Sim, leave the poor woman alone. Can't you see how stressed she is?"

Becca going into protective mode had me laugh, a strangled sound, but it helped to dissolve part of the tension between my shoulders. These two were my closest friends, right? If I couldn't tell them, I would have to deal with everything on my own.

"As ghosts go, he wasn't spectacular. Average height, slim, dark clothes." The brief description fitted a great percentage of the men in the room. "The one thing that sets him apart are his eyes."

"Red?" Sim's gaze hung on my lips.

"No, blue." Her face fell, and I chuckled—this time for real. "Not baby blue or sky blue. Not even ice blue, but more like that blue you get in radiation, you know? What you see in a nuclear reactor."

"Cherenkov radiation?" A deep frown had formed on Becca's forehead. She was a physicist and had been the one to introduce me to science fiction years ago.

"Yes, and he dissolved into thin air, too, when Conny asked me something."

"So you didn't get to talk to him? Is he hot at least?" Sim rolled her green eyes and we all burst out laughing.

Two drinks later, we said goodbye. By then I was convinced I had made up the encounter with the ghost, and when I fell into my bed an hour later than I had planned, it was as good as forgotten. A fading recollection of a fickle of my imagination, I thought.

The next morning, I fought to get out from under my cozy comforter but arrived at the library on time. A pale winter sun sent a tentative ray through fast-moving clouds and touched the windows with an ethereal finger. I had stowed the memory of my strange encounter in the farthest corner of my mind. Marjorie's genuine greeting cheered me up further, and when we started the day with a cup of tea, even Conny seemed more accessible. I was surprised how much a few drinks with the girls and a dreamless sleep had brightened my perception of the world.

During my morning round of the shelves, I had no shocking encounters, and even the offensive lamp in the classic section did its job as if yesterday had only played out in my mind. When I told Marjorie about its antics, she sighed.

"That one again—it gives us trouble all the time. I'll call Paco. Perhaps he'll find the fault this time."

Paco? Where had I heard the name before? Before I could remember, the twelve members of the Tuesday knitting circle arrived and installed themselves in the children's area with their colourful handiwork. Most were old enough to be retired but emitted an aura of cheerful energy and chatted like a flock of eager birds. Marjorie joined them with a book and motioned me over. I exchanged a glance with Conny, who mouthed a non-verbal "good luck" and retreated to the front desk to tend to the normal customers.

The librarian made me sit down next to her on her storyteller sofa. "Ladies, may I present Lynn to you, my substitute for the next few weeks? I'm sure she'll read to you while I'm away—won't you, my dear?"

She didn't leave me with much choice since all the knitters smiled at me and a diminutive woman with blueish hair and a charming foreign accent declared how wonderful it was to see a fresh face. I looked around for help, but Conny stared at her screen and ignored my silent pleas. Defeated, I smiled back and searched for a comfortable position. If I had to take over Marjorie's job, I'd better learn about it as much as I could in the short time I had left.

To my surprise, the book she read to her knitting audience was Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets. Okay, I could do that. It would definitely be less challenging than a wild romance full of embarrassing moments and salacious details. I blushed even at the thought of reading a book with mature content aloud.

While Marjorie worked her magic, the room was silent except for the clicking of knitting needles. With her superb reading talent, she almost painted the story's characters into our presence. For a moment, I thought I could see Dobby, the house-elf, peek around a turquoise sitting cube. When I focused on him, he sniffled and slipped away. I let my gaze wander over the knitters, wondering if they had seen him too, when I looked into a pair of bright blue eyes.

I suppressed a gasp. A young man leaned against a bookshelf and listened to the story. I knew where I had seen these piercing eyes before. And this time, it didn't shock me I hadn't seen him arrive. No, it was the fact I could see the books on the shelf behind him through his translucent body. I rubbed my eyes and stared at my hands for a few seconds, but when I glanced in his direction again, he was still there, raising a brow.

A corner of his mouth twitched into a lopsided grin, and he winked. Could he mean me? Well, Marjorie was busy reading, the ladies had their backs to him and their eyes on their knitting, and Conny had disappeared in the office. I ran a hand over my face, but the ghost didn't dissolve like yesterday.

When Marjorie finished the chapter, Conny arrived, carrying a tray loaded with cups and a plate of cookies. Glad for the distraction, I helped her serve tea and coffee. Only when everyone was sipping their drinks, I checked on the ghost. As I had suspected, he had disappeared. I placed my cup on a table and went to the spot he'd occupied moments before, but even there I couldn't find a trace of the young man, nor did a cold draft or a strange smell tell me something was amiss..

Marjorie stepped up to me and took my hand, her pale, age-freckled fingers cold on my darker ones. "Are you fine, Lynn? You look as if you'd seen a ghost."

A shiver ran down my spine. "I think I have, right now, and yesterday evening, too, in the far corner." I pointed towards the back of the library.

"Oh, I bet you mean our young friend Luca. That's a surprise I should have anticipated. If I'd known you are sensitive enough to see him, my dear, I would have told you about him."

The shiver intensified. "Who is Luca? Sensitive to what?"

"To paranormal manifestations, of course," she hushed me. "But let's talk about him later. We don't want to frighten our guests, do we?"

"Sure." I wondered if this meant Luca was someone to be frightened of. And if the mention of a see-through visitor was supposed to scare the knitting ladies, what would they make of the darker parts of Rowling's Harry Potter series? Tempted to ignore Marjorie's request, I was about to ask what burned on my tongue, but I didn't find time, since Conny called me to the reception.

"Lynn, do you have a moment? There's someone I'd like you to meet."