Forgetting the opener, Gideon flew up the stairs, three at a time. The book had slipped from Emma’s lap, and he pushed it the rest of the way off to bundle her in his arms. Her body was warm, too, her temperature slightly elevated. Not feverish, and certainly not as warm as the letter opener, but enough to be noticeable, enough for him to rise to his feet.
She hung limp against him as he carried her out of the library and back to their room. If not for the heat rising from her skin, he would have just thought her asleep. Even her pulse was completely normal, and her eyes darted behind their lids like she was in REM. What he’d seen hadn’t been normal, though.