Still, I lower the Swiffer and soften my voice. “Hi there. Can you come out, please?”
I aim toward the next room, where the glow is now visible, even through the walls. I step around the corner and navigate down another row of shelves, only to realize it is not a child in my library. Nor is it an adult. And it’s not even a terrifying villain.
No, the intruder in my library, who is currently sliding a book off the shelf, is a raccoon.
There’s araccoonin my library.
“Fucking Gods!” I scream.
The rodent whips its head toward me, the thing’s mask-patterned face staring straight at mine, black eyes sparkling with mischief.
The creature lets out a loud string of chatters, and then it waddles away. Fluffy, big ass pointed in my direction, strutting off like it couldn’t give a fuck.
Meanwhile, I give a hell of a lot of fucks.
“Oh my Gods,” I whisper-scream. “What in all the hell dimensions?”
I don’t know what to do about vermin in my house. Why is Ame not here right now? Animals are her thing.
This town doesn’t even have an animal control; they just call the veterinary office.
That’s what I need to do.
I will call Zara.
Thank the Gods I have animal people in the family who know what to do about the fact that there is a wild rodent in my home. In my business. Touching my books.
A forest creaturetouchedmy books.
“Where’s that hoard protection magic now, huh?” I hiss the words into the air, as if the house might be listening.
There’s no response as I frantically search for my phone in all my pockets while cautiously following after the raccoon. But I also try to keep distance from it because I don’t want the animal to end up being rabid and in a biting mood.
Not going to happen.
Only, when I turn at the end of the shelf, I don’t see the raccoon. What I do see is an open window. With the screen popped out.
Can raccoons do that?
I don’t know why I’m asking. Obviously, they can because it did.
I hurry over and slam the window shut. Then I press my shoulders back against the wall and try to catch my breath. Only when I am not gasping, as if I’d just swum the entire length of Lake Galen, do I make a call to the town vet.
Of course, my sister answers the phone.
“Thank you for calling Folk Tails. This is Ame speaking. How can I help you?”
“There was a raccoon in the library.” I’m yelling, and I can’t stop. “It broke in. How do I keep raccoons from breaking into my library?”
“Mor?”
“Yes, Ame, this is your sister. There are no other libraries in town. Do you think that Toccoa’s library is calling you all to figure out how to handle raccoons?”
“You just surprised me is all,” she says, her voice staying calm, unruffled by my outburst. “You’re not normally a yeller.”
She’s right, and I drag in a deep breath through my nose to calm myself. “Sorry. Yes, it’s me. Back to this raccoon problem.”
“Raccoons are smart. You need to use locks. And latches.”
