“That sounds worse than nakedness.”
“It is entirely clothed.”
“But?”
“But intimate. Magically speaking.” He’s very carefully not looking at me now, suddenly fascinated by the ceiling tiles.
“And what happens if we fail? If the barrier keeps thinning?”
“I don’t know. The last time someone failed was 1847. The records are... unclear.”
“Unclear how?”
“They simply state ‘unprecedented consequences occurred.’ The next entry is three months later and mentions new shadow residents in the town records.”
“Shadow residents?”
“Possibly similar to what’s gathering outside.”
The lights flicker and die completely. For three seconds, we’re in absolute darkness. Something scratches at the windows—multiple somethings, from multiple directions. Then the emergency lighting kicks in, bathing everything in that green light that makes everyone look like they’re dying of consumption in a Victorian novel.
A sound from the back of the library makes us both turn. Footsteps. Slow, dragging footsteps. Like someone walking in shoes full of pudding.
“Shadow creatures?” I whisper, clutching the cat tighter. He makes a sound like a squeaky toy.
“They cannot enter yet. The barrier holds.”
“Then what?—”
“HELLO, OCCUPANTS!”
I shriek. It comes out as more of a squawk, really. Stenrik moves in front of me so fast I don’t see him move, just suddenly there’s a wall of winter-scented male between me and whatever just spoke. I peek around his elbow—it’s at my eye level, which is just unfair.
A figure emerges from the shadows between Biography and Self-Help. It looks like someone made a person out of smoke and forgot several important structural elements. It’s wearing what appears to be a rumpled suit jacket and a name tag that says “HELLO MY NAME IS” with “Keith” written in what might be comic sans.
“Keith?” I peek further around Stenrik. “Your name is Keith?”
“Keith Peterson. Konica Minolta Business Solutions.” The shadow creature attempts what might be a smile. Several parts of its face go in different directions. “Keith has won awards for his skilled copier maintenance.”
“You’re a shadow creature who fixes copiers?” Stenrik asks, his tone suggesting this is a new low even for shadow creatures.
“Was. Was a shadow creature. The conference helped Keith integrate.” Keith pulls out what might be a handkerchief and dabs at what might be his forehead.
“Conference?” I ask, stepping out from behind Stenrik.
“‘Evolving Solutions for Tomorrow’s Office Today.’ Three-day seminar. Downtown Springfield Marriott. Excellent snacks.” Keith straightens his tie.
“This is insane,” I mutter.
“The keynote was titled ‘Becoming More Present in the Workplace.’ There was a… slip? I am not sure what happened, but Keith is now present. Embodied. Keith regrets nothing.”
Embodied. That’s... not usually a word you hear from smoke people. Not unless something’s gone very wrong or very motivational.
He pulls out what appears to be a laptop made of shadows and plastic. The screen glows with an unholy light that’s somehow worse than the emergency lighting. “Keith has a presentation about integration if you’d like to see it.”
“You have a PowerPoint?” My voice cracks on the last word.
“Seventy-three slides. With animations.” Keith sounds proud. “And transitions. Keith spent considerable time on the transitions.”
