Stenrik looks at me. “This is not how the magic should manifest.”
“And yet, he’s here,” I correct. “Keith, are there more of you? Integrated shadow creatures?”
“Several. Brad from procurement is outside. Susan from HR. They’re conflicted.” Keith gestures toward the window where several shadows are indeed pressed against the glass. One appears to be taking notes on an iPad made of darkness.
“About?”
“Between ancient hunger and attending tomorrow’s webinar on productivity optimization.”
“Ancient hunger?”
“For emotion, substance, connection. The usual.” Keith adjusts his tie again. “But the webinar has excellent reviews.”
I start laughing. I can’t help it. The stress, the wine, the sheer absurdity of shadow creatures having HR departments—it’s too much. I laugh until my sides hurt, until tears stream down my face, until I have to sit down on the floor because my legs won’t hold me.
“We’re trapped in a library with shadow creatures having an existential crisis about corporate culture,” I wheeze.
“It’s a very supportive environment,” Keith says defensively. “Great benefits package. Dental included.”
“Dental? Shadow creatures need dental?”
Another window cracks. The less integrated shadows are getting impatient. One has definitely manifested a briefcase.
“Keith,” Stenrik says slowly, like he’s testing each word for traps, “would your... colleagues be willing to negotiate?”
“Keith could set up a meeting. Keith has excellent meeting management skills.” Keith pulls out what appears to be a day planner. “Would Thursday work? Keith has an opening at two.”
“We might be dealing with unprecedented consequences by Thursday,” I point out.
“Keith can reschedule.”
Outside, another shadow appears. This one’s different—less corporate, more curious. I decide to name him. “That one’s Carl.”
“Carl?” Stenrik asks.
“He looks like a Carl. Hey Carl!” I wave at the shadow. It waves back, then holds up what appears to be a name tag that says “CARL” in shaky lettering.
“You named a shadow creature,” Stenrik says flatly.
“Carl seems to like it.”
Carl is indeed nodding enthusiastically, if a being made of smoke can nod.
Mister Poofypants the Third chooses this moment to investigate Keith. He waddles over, sniffs the shadow creature’s leg, then rubs against it, leaving orange fur suspended in the darkness.
“Your small predator is friendly,” Keith observes.
“He’s not friendly. He’s marking you as his property.”
“Keith is honored.”
STENRIK
The clock on the circulation desk, the cat-shaped one, shows five minutes until midnight. The air in the library feels heavy, still. Outside, the shadows press against the glass. They are quiet now. Waiting.
“You said there are three chances,” Rianne states. She stands near the reference desk, her arms crossed tight against her chest. “Tonight is the first.”
“Yes.” I have cleared a space in the center of the main reading room. The salt lines we poured hours ago are uneven, kicked askew by her cat, but they will hold for this. The Chronicle sits on a small table in the center of the circle. It looks like just a book.
