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“You too,” I said, because it was. Lily was an amazing, if abrasive person, and I felt lucky to have spent the time working with her last month. “If you ever need a helper for another library job, you know where to find me.”
“I’m done with the library,” she said. “But thank you. Your help in Roldaria was invaluable.”
She rose from her seat, too. My heart sank.
“Call me some time, and we’ll catch up,” she said.
“I’m free right now,” I said.
She checked the time on her phone. “I wish I could stay, but I have a job. Silas is waiting for me.”
“Need a third?”
“Not this time,” she said with a warm smile. “It’s a soup, so your bodysnatching won’t work on this one. Next time, maybe. Bye, Imogen.”
Now I was in the mood for soup.
I said goodbye, and as Lily headed toward the bathroom, likely to travel through her magical potty portal, I left the boring way, through the front door.
The heat of the summer day still lingered in the night air. I kicked a small rock down the sidewalk as I headed back toward my basement apartment.
Baaa.
My entire body seized up, every muscle tense in a massive flinch. I listened to the sounds of cars, of people, of the city. Everything was as it was supposed to be, which was strange, because I could have sworn I heard the terrifying bleat of the worst kind of monster—a sheep.
It was probably just me being silly, because I’d been hanging out with Lily, and the last time we’d spent time together it had been in sheep-infested lands.
I tried to shake off my fear and kept walking.
There were no sheep in Piccadilly. Even thinking there could be was just ridiculous.
Baaaaaaa.
The bleating was louder, and growing louder still.
I whipped around wildly, searching for the terrifying beast that was surely charging. I saw nothing.
BAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA.
The sound wasn’t coming from the street.
It was coming from above.
My heart pounded in my chest. My limbs trembled. I slowly tilted my chin toward the sky.
A body of white fluff, four skinny black legs, a creepy set of soulless eyes—a sheep plummeted from the sky at Mach 10. I cried out in terror and agony, as it landed on my head.
More magical hijinks ensue in Imogen’s story, Mixtapes and Mind Control!
