Page 42 of Night Shift

Zadok presses two fingers to his temple.

“Our immediate concern is not smoothies. It is the balance between day and night. Erebus, if that balance is not restored, what happens?”

“It will eventually unravel.”

The room becomes silent.

Cassian lowers his pen. “Unravel?”

Alaric brightens. “Cataclysm already?”

“Not immediately,” I clarify. “The pattern wavers before it breaks. There is time.”

“How much time?” Zadok asks.

“I do not know.”

The resulting uproar suggests this was not the preferred answer.

Zadok bangs the gavel several times until the room settles.

“With respect,” he says, “what exactly are you hoping to accomplish?”

I look at Calliope again.

This time she looks back.

“I have surrendered every night I have ever held,” I say. “Every beautiful thing I have watched beneath it has eventually been given over to morning because that is the order of things. I have never questioned it.”

Her expression softens, but only slightly.

“Until now?” Zadok asks.

“Until her.”

The room grows very quiet.

Calliope closes her eyes.

I continue because stopping now would somehow be worse.

“She is the first thing I have ever wanted to remain.”

Somewhere behind me, someone sighs.

Alaric whispers, “Magnificent.”

Petra elbows him.

Zadok looks as though he has developed a headache.

“With respect, longing is not an adequate rationale for upending the cosmos.”

“I defer to your experience.”

Alaric laughs.

No one else does.