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“You’ve read far too many crazy stories,” Vitruvius teased, speaking out loud as he wrote on the paper.
“Whoa! Was that you just now?”
“Huh?” Vitruvius blinked. “Wait… Can you hear me?”
“Yes!” Clancy looked all around the spot on the couch next to him. “I still can’t see you, but I can absolutely hear you. That’s incredible!” He scratched his beard. “Maybe this means you’re getting stronger?”
“I… I don’t know.” Vitruvius frowned. “I must have been able to speak…”
“You’re fading out now.”
“That’s because I stopped talking.”
“Oh.”
“I can’t remember if I ever spoke to anyone else or not, but I assume I did because I have memories of doing other things with them. Things that perhaps may not require speaking, but I would think so if nothing else than to be polite.”
“Other things?” Clancy blinked. Then he grinned bashfully when he caught on. “Right. The kissing and theotherthings.”
“Yes.” Vitruvius slid his hand over Clancy’s thigh. “I would be happy to show you.”
“O-oh, well… I…”
Vitruvius scooted closer until he could press against Clancy’s broad chest, his hand daring to sneak higher up toward his crotch. He leaned in until his lips brushed over Clancy’s beard, and he sighed happily, breathing in his warm scent…
Something caught Vitruvius’s eye on the shelf, a splash of red, and he stared.
It was a red book, not too unlike his own, and he couldn’t stop looking at it.
There was something about the red…
Vitruvius flinched.
A monster.
There was a monster standing right in front of him. He could hear it growling, smell its sour skin, and the heat of its giant body looming so close made him shiver. It was a horrible beast with horns and a tail—
“I want to go back to my book please.” Vitruvius pulled away.
“Hey, what’s wrong?”
“Now.”
“Okay, okay!” Clancy frowned. “I, I can put the pieces of the cover back together. Is that okay?”
“Yes, please. Whatever. I just… I need to go back for a little while.”
“Of course. Uh, whatever you need.” Clancy adjusted himself before jumping off the couch to head over to his desk.
Vitruvius was shaken.
He had no idea where that thing had come from, and he didn’t know if it was a memory or a dream or what. It had been so vivid, and he’d seen nothing like it in all his many years of being at the bookshop. He thought that he could have reached out and touched it, and he had never felt so afraid in his life.
Life? Afterlife? Whatever.
“I’ve got it here,” Clancy called out to him. “The pages are still soaking, but I’ve got the cover pieces back together.”
Vitruvius floated over to inspect the quick repair job, and he snorted when he saw Clancy had used duct tape. He shrunk and then slid under the cover, closing his eyes and letting himself sink down into the familiar darkness. It was peaceful here, it was quiet, it was—
