We Are Monsters 🌕 Book 1 || gxg

Bloody Inconvenient

Winter was in full swing again, and Sam was cozy in her library with her rickety cart—only half-loaded, mind you; she was still rather sore. The bandages were hidden under a plush knit pullover and some fingerless gloves. Only Kathy, her supervisor, knew she had been attacked. Others guessed, but Sam didn't indulge those conversations. Kathy had done a surprisingly good job of keeping Sam's secret from the regulars, but still took to treating her delicately. Sure, a lighter work load was a nice reprieve, but it got old pretty fast. Strict desk duty was not her idea of a good time.

As soon as she was able to put a hardcover dictionary away without wincing, she was able to convince Kathy to let her get back to shelving. At least when her hands were busy she could feel just a little less anxious. Her thoughts often strayed to the empty lockbox, her missing cash, her missing stash. She was furious, more than anything, and a little violated. Keeping busy helped ease it, but not for long.

The deep ache began just before lunch, and she was forced to stop shelving and return to the desk once more. After lunch, when Kathy was in, she sent Sam to do some filing in the basement where the city stored an overflow of paper records yet to be digitized. She reluctantly agreed. The musty, dim basement was not somewhere she liked to spend an extended period of time, but it was her job, after all. So, down the old stone steps she went, the dim daylight eaten up in seconds.

She flipped the lights at the base of the stairs for all the good those old cage lights would do. A wan orange light revealed stacks of cardboard boxes, a dozen metal shelves, and two wooden desks facing each other opposite the doorway. She clicked on the reading lamps at each, which cast a brilliant light on the workspaces but did little for the room. Sighing, she got to work on the nearest box, dated 1936, April.

Time is meaningless in that room. The clock behind it's rusted cage had stopped at 5:46 long before she started working there and she didn't want to check her phone. She couldn't handle the disappointment if it had only been a half hour. The box was a cluster of forms from the local courthouse, everything from deed transfers to marriage documents.

She knocked a file off the desk at some point, and watched it spin into the shadows under the first shelf. With a heavy sigh, she followed it and peered into the abyss. To her surprise she was able to see the file clearly after a second, and retrieved it just fine—along with a dusty toonie. She pocketed the coin and went back to her reading, her mind wandering to memories of coffee and pizza. She was still hungry.

Hands busy again, thoughts free to wander, she pictured Ada's mirthful gaze over the rim of her coffee cup as Sam told her about the time Melody, her niece, brought a stray cat in from the postage-stamp backyard, looking proud as a peacock with the squirming creature in her arms. Lori had been apoplectic at the sight, and Sam had to chase Melody around to get her to relinquish the cat. Sam had been terrified that it would scratch the toddler. Melody thought it was the best game they had played all day.

Coffee had been lovely. What she wouldn't give to be there instead of filing. Ada, though quiet, was fascinating. She managed to keep the focus on Sam for quite some time before she caught onto the diversion and stopped letting her dodge questions. The first one Ada truly opened up on was where she wanted to travel to most.

"La Réunion," she said without pause, lowering her mug right into a sunbeam, setting her chipped sparkly nail polish alight. When prompted, she continued. "I've always wanted to learn to surf, and it's supposed to be just beautiful there."

Eventually Sam dragged out of her that she had siblings of her own, two elder siblings, fraternal twins. They were six years her senior, so she hadn't bonded with them as well as Sam had with her own sister, only a year apart. Ada had stared past her when she told Sam they didn't talk much anymore, and Sam wondered if that upset her. Ada was so hard to read sometimes. Her long face was rather like a mask, but behind her eyes was a constant churning of thoughts and feelings.