Chapter 13 #3
With a teasing grin, he says, “No worries, I’ve seen worse.
You should’ve seen the last time we had a dragon shifter shift in here.
Fire everywhere. Took us months to reconstruct the books.
” I gape at him, not sure if he’s serious or not.
“We’ll fix these ones up too. But you can’t take them out of the library—we aren’t a lending library.
Well, except under extraordinary circumstances.
Which these aren’t,” he hurries to finish, pinning Kade, who is about to intercede, with a stern look.
“Fine,” Kade concedes, his hand pressing on my lower back as he nudges me into motion once more.
“I look forward to your next visit,” Seb says, amusement creeping back into his countenance. A low rumbling growl starts in Kade’s chest again. What is it that I’m missing here?
“Because,” Seb continues without missing a beat, falling into step with us as we walk, “I’m not exactly sure what’s going on with your magical abilities—although I’m sure I will get a full report on them in the near future—but they seem damn useful for what we do here.”
“Thanks,” I reply, as Kade steers me past him and out the door, eyeing Seb suspiciously all the while.
***
Just like the drive here, we are silent as the truck peels down the long driveway and begins the trip to Kade’s warehouse.
My heart is heavy as I review everything we’ve learned. The village deaths, the vision of ancient scholars failing, the growing certainty that we’re facing something far more dangerous than we initially understood.
Before long, we’re back in the city, and I stare out the window at the ordinary world sliding past. Streetlamps casting familiar yellow pools of light.
Late commuters heading home from their normal jobs to their normal lives.
A woman walking her dog, probably thinking about what to make for dinner, not about shadow creatures that feed on magic and grow stronger with each manifestation.
What I wouldn’t give for that kind of normalcy right now.
I pick up my phone to distract myself from dwelling on everything, too tired to think anymore. The screen glows, and—unfortunately for me—a single, ominous notification fills my lock screen: “SICK LEAVE MAXIMUM EXCEEDED”.
Oh no, no, no, no.
I’ve been off work, mysteriously “sick,” for, what, three weeks now? My old life, with its predictable schedules, HR policies, and well-meaning managers, crashes incongruently into this new life of magic, echo-beasts, and Kade. How long has it been since I’ve even thought about work?
I’ve been living in this supernatural bubble, while my actual life—the one I built carefully over the years—crumbles in my absence.
The library, my library, with its beautiful rare manuscripts and picture books and romance novels and local sightseeing guides.
It’s all slipping away, while I fall deeper into the rabbit hole. My chest feels tight.
“Problem?” Kade says. How does he always seem to know what I’m feeling at any given moment? It seems monstrously unfair.
“My job.” The word tastes stale. I flick open the email and skim it. “My manager hopes I’m feeling better. She says I have to come back to work ASAP. Or else I have to file for short-term disability leave. Shit.”
“So file for it.” He says it like it’s nothing. Like we’re discussing a grocery list.
I release a laugh that edges into hysterical. “On what grounds? ‘Yeah doctor, you see, I’ve suddenly come down with a big old case of ‘the MAGICS’ and I need to go on leave until I defeat an ancient horrifying shadow monster. You understand, I’m sure you see it all the time.’”
“I know people who can get you the paperwork you need.” His gold-rimmed eyes gauge my response, before returning to the road. “You can’t go back.”
“I know.”
“You’d put them in danger.”
“I know.”
“You need to learn to control your magic.”
“I know.”
“Good,” he grunts, like it’s settled.
The finality in his voice should make me angry, but instead it just makes me tired.
Because he’s right. I can’t go back to shelving books and helping patrons find the latest bestseller when there’s a shadow creature hunting me, when my magic could manifest at any moment and put innocent people in danger.
I swallow, a powerful wave of homesickness washing over me. “I love that job,” I whisper, mostly to myself.
Kade glances at me. “I know,” he says, his voice solemn.
He’s trying to be gentle, but all I hear is a bitter echo of my own words.
Something inside me cracks. I’ve been fundamentally changed, and there’s no going back to who I was before.
As much as I want it, I’m no longer a boring librarian with a comfortable routine, a nice peaceful, predictable existence, and a pile of books for excitement.
But without all of that, I feel dangerously unmoored.
I don’t have very long to dwell on it, however. I notice Kade’s large shoulders getting tense as he drives, his forearms bulging as he grips the steering wheel harder and harder. Something’s wrong.
Then his eyes flick to the rearview mirror, and I see it. The streetlights behind us are going out in our wake, one by one.