Page 41 of Night Shift

A familiar voice comes from the front row.

“How,” Petra asks, “are you determining appropriate?”

She is seated beside Calliope with a rolled yoga mat wedged between her stone knees. She has apparently brought it to the emergency meeting either because she came directly from class or because she intends to use it as a weapon.

“When the sequence is complete,” I say. “When I no longer wish to preserve this night.”

Petra’s lips flatten.

“And when exactly will that be?”

I look toward Calliope.

She looks away.

“I have never wanted anything before,” I admit. “I have no precedent for how long wanting lasts.”

Petra groans.

“Fantastic. Sunrise is being held hostage by a man having his first crush.”

“It is more complicated than that.”

“I sincerely doubt it.”

Cassian Wolfridge, Blackthorn’s police chief, raises one hand from his place beside Zadok. He has a folder open in front of him and the exhausted expression of a man who would prefer almost any emergency to one involving celestial forces.

“Law enforcement has observed a measurable increase in shenanigans since the cessation.”

Zadok turns toward him. “Shenanigans?”

“Tomfoolery. Hijinks. Some vandalism, mostly of a creative nature.” Cassian consults his notes. “The statue of Clara Bartleby was removed from the library courtyard and placed on the roof of the SuperMax. When questioned, the perpetrators cited the unbreaking spell of the Wild Night.”

He looks at me.

“Care to comment?”

“The absence of dawn can produce certain liberatory effects.”

Cassian stares at me.

“That was not as reassuring as you think it was.”

A man seated near the aisle raises a glass filled with something red.

Alaric Grimhaven is the only person in the room who appears delighted by recent events.

“I, for one, applaud our esteemed darkness for finally taking a stand. After centuries of enduring the tyranny of morning people and their wretched smoothies, at last we may appreciate the subtle pleasures of unbroken night.”

Petra turns around.

“Nobody asked Dracula.”

“I am not Dracula.”

“Nobody asked you, either.”

Alaric smiles and takes a leisurely sip.