Essex [the bad familiar]

8: A hospital for sinners

"I'm not even supposed to be here. Do you have any idea how lucky we are to be alive? My God, I should've been neck-deep in a hot bath waiting for my boyfriend's shift to end. Getting the Governor's wife for storytime was the sort of move that would put our little library on the map. All we'll be getting now is a shit-ton of teenagers looking for a cheap thrill, and that's if we open before Halloween. Sandelene? Ms. Jhel? You aren't hearing a single word I'm saying, are you? Great."

By the time Sandelene found her voice, there was nothing in the gutter, and she didn't dare check. The keys to Smudge felt heavy and cold in the sweat of her palm. "You don't have to come in," she said. "I only need one hand to hold the box. Think I can manage."

"I damn well will," Margery declared, wrapping his scarf, the second of tonight after the first had been confiscated as evidence, around his neck like a security blanket. "I don't even know how I'm walking around right now. You said it's safe, didn't you?"

"Contained."

Margery pursed his lips. "No, I'm pretty sure you said safe."

"Theoretically," she agreed through the clenched teeth of a false smile. She shoved the key in the lock, turned the handle, and stepped inside. In a routine gesture that felt anything but, she flipped on the light. 

Somewhere near her left ear, Margery gasped. "You've been robbed!"

The main shop had been turned upside down and inside out, as if a cyclone had whirled through. Nothing was intact. Everything had fallen, snapped, shattered, or broken. Thousands of dollars of product, a lifetime of work, ruined in the time it took her to go to the hospital and back. And while it made her want to cry, it made her angry, too, and thankful that she'd left.

Her eyes moved past the upturned register and scattered dollar bills. There was simply too much to take in at that moment, but there was one spot that had drawn her eyes and earned all her attention. The colorful terrarium light flicked and buzzed. One of the smallest toads sat on a rock beneath it. The newts were gone, the other fire-bellied toads no where in sight. She rushed over to it, turned the sloshing landscape back on its proper side and gently lowered the one toad inside.

"The coin," Margery was saying. "They left the petty cash. Oh, God, what was I thinking? We can't live on Noah's salary alone. We've got expensive taste. Oh, shit."

"We have to find Neville," she told him calmly. The terrarium light creaked and went out. 

Margery stiffened at the sight of the toppled tank. "Neville doesn't have a forked tongue, does he? Not that I'm afraid of snakes, it's just that tonight's been feeling a bit biblical in scope and I don't like the idea of the devil's minion on the loose."

"He's a toad," she said, rolling her eyes. Just a toad, she reminded herself, counting to ten under her breath. Her fingers found the handle of the broom she kept behind the desk for sweeping the storefront and, occasionally, knocking the boots of a sleeping drunkard. Neville can take care of himself. Don't be stupid. It wants you to look for him, like it wanted you to look for Officer Peabody. Instead of looking for her pet, she nodded at Margery. Together they headed to the back office. One step inside and Margery screamed. Sandelene jumped, whirling around to face him.

"What is it?" And then she went pale.

He was pointing at her.

She turned, knuckles white against the broom handle. "I don't see anything."

"No," Margery said, shaking his head. "Your neck! Holy hell. We've gotta get you help."

Sandelene took one hand off the broom and made her way to the cabinet with the box. "What? No, I've had this since earlier. It's okay. Stings, but it's okay."