I ruled out the first floor based on the magical residue I’d seen previously and started with the second floor. I knocked on the first door, mentally preparing my story.
The door opened and a frail dwarf peered up at me from behind a pair of thick glasses.
“Pest control,” I announced.
The dwarf adjusted her glasses. “Don’t you work in security?”
“Pest control is understaffed. I offered to help out today.”
“First the handyman, then security, now pest control. The HOA really needs to deal with all these staffing issues. What do my fees even pay for?”
“I couldn’t agree more. Would you mind if I come in? It will only take five minutes, tops.”
The dwarf stepped aside and waved me in. “What kind of pests are we talking about? I have a terrible phobia about palmetto bugs.”
The moment I crossed the threshold, I spotted the dwarf’s shadow on the wall. “Do you live alone?”
“Yes, why?”
“You’re good.” I backed up toward the door.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean there’s no need for pest control. I can see your condo is fine. Bye now.” I slipped outside before she could ask questions. I didn’t have time to offer convoluted explanations to every Neighbor I encountered.
It took me thirty minutes to finish the second floor. All shadows were present and accounted for, with the added bonus of being invited to a threesome with an elderly couple dressed in BDSM attire. I politely declined and excused myself from their condo. My retinas, however, would take time to recover from the image burned into them.
I trudged up the steps to the third floor. Only half the Neighbors were home. As inconvenient as it was for me, good for them. I was glad they were out and about, living their best lives.
The fourth floor was more of a success. I checked three-quarters of the units. All shadows were attached to their owners. Nobody seemed twitchy.
I tried not to feel deflated. After all, I left the building with the number of units to revisit at a later time, a list now significantly shorter than the one I had when I arrived.
I’d nearly reached my golf cart when I noticed a man ambling toward the building. I figured I might as well cross another one off my list and intercepted him.
“Good morning, sir. I’m Maya August, acting director of security. Do you live here?”
“I do,” he said. “Unit 303. I’m just coming back from badminton.”
I checked the notes on my phone. Stephen Clarke. Wizard. “You’re Mr. Clarke?”
“Yes.” His gaze darted to the building then back to me. “Shifty eyes,” my father would’ve called them. “Is there a problem, Director August?”
“Pest control,” I said, distracted. I was too busy observing him from multiple angles to elaborate.
It appeared that Stephen Clarke had no shadow.
There were shadowless people in the world—Gage was one of them—but Stephen was a wizard. He should have a shadow, and I should be able to see it right now.
“One more question, Stephen, if you don’t mind.”
“Ask away.”
“Where’s your shadow?”
His whole body stiffened. “My shadow?”
“Yes. Are you aware it’s missing?”
