Our victory was short-lived. The next morning, I found the second note. This one wasn't in my locker.
It was nailed to the front door of my house.
The same expensive paper. The same font. The message was shorter, and far less polite.
"You have something that doesn't belong to you. Return it. Today. Or the next message will be for your parents."
The threat was no longer veiled. It was a direct assault. They knew we had the evidence. They knew where I lived. The feeling of safety I'd always felt in my own home evaporated, replaced by a cold, pervasive dread.
My mother called out from the kitchen, "JM, what's that on the door?"
"Nothing, Ma!" I yelled back, my voice cracking as I ripped the note down and stuffed it in my pocket. "Just… a flyer!"
I was lying to my parents now. The world of shadows was encroaching on my real life, and the walls between them were crumbling.