The problem with being a walking anomaly was that I usually ended up scrubbing floors. I mean, what could go wrong with that?
I scraped the hardened wax off the library floor, the cheap plastic scrubber protesting with a screech that echoed in the silent, empty hall. It was 2:00 AM, and I was well into my shift at the Oldwick Public Library, a place that felt more like a tomb than a house of knowledge.
I know, why was I working the midnight shift? I needed the money and this job was one out of the only two that I had been able to keep. Sad, right?
I was twenty-two, looked startlingly normal. I had brown hair and grey eyes, with a constant frown etched between my brows but I had a secret that made me feel like a ticking time bomb. Things broke around me. Not just electronics (though I'd ruined four cheap cell phones this year alone), but fragile glass, ancient machinery and the like.
Just last week, while dusting the rare books section, a perfectly preserved Latin volume had spontaneously combusted into a small, odorless plume of blue smoke. The library director, a stern woman named Mrs. Harlow, had blamed faulty wiring. I knew better. It was me. Seraphina Lyra.
I knelt back on my heels, sweat plastering my thin t-shirt to my skin. The library's massive, leaded glass windows, which looked older than the town itself, were my only company. They were currently reflecting the sickly yellow glow of the streetlights.
"Just get through the week, Sera," I muttered, trying to focus on the grit beneath the scrubber. "Pay the rent. Buy groceries. Ignore the static."
The static was the worst. It felt like being permanently charged with low-level electricity, a constant hum just beneath my skin. Tonight, the hum was louder, a buzzing energy that made my teeth ache. I ran a hand through my hair, my fingers catching on strands that felt unnaturally coarse.
The air is thin, a voice that wasn't mine whispered in the back of my mind. Thin and weak. The Veil is failing.
I shivered, ignoring the unsettling thought. This happened sometimes, strange, poetic notions that weren't my usual internal monologue about overdue bills and how badly I needed a shower.
I stood up, needing a break. The main hall of the library was designed to resemble a medieval cathedral, all vaulted ceilings and stone arches. As I passed the card catalog which was now just an antiquated decoration, I noticed something really wrong.
The air above the wooden cabinets was shimmering like oil on water, twisting the reflections of the ceiling lights. It was a perfect circle of distortion, maybe three feet across.
No. Not here. Not now.
Panic clawed at my throat. This wasn't a broken toaster situation; this was magic, or whatever the hell I was accidentally emitting. I scrambled toward the emergency shut-off panel hidden behind a shelf of Shakespeare, my heart hammering against my ribs. If I could just cut the main power, maybe I could stop whatever this was.
But before my hand could reach the switch, the shimmering intensified. It spun, turning into something that looked like a black hole. The smell of ozone and wet earth filled the hall.
And then, something stepped out of it.
It wasn't a shadow, though it was cloaked in them. It was impossibly tall, built like a god, and moved with a silent grace. The figure wore a coat of dark, supple leather that caught the faint light and its eyes when they locked onto me were the color of glacial ice.
This was no human no matter how desperately I tried to rationalize the sight. The figure's features were too sharp, too symmetrical, the tips of its ears barely visible beneath thick, midnight-black hair. Fae. The ancient, beautiful beings from the stories my grandmother used to tell me about.
Damn. The creature is looking at me like he recognized me.
"You," the Fae said, his voice a low, resonant rumble that vibrated through the stone floor. It sounded scarily similar to a command.
I backed away slowly, clutching the dusty scrubbing brush like a shield. "Look, sir, I don't know who you are, but the library is closed. You need to leave before I call the police."
A ghost of a smile that was utterly humorless, touched his lips. "The police. Cute. You think the mortal watchdogs can stop a Shadow-Bound emissary from retrieving what is owed to his King?"
He took one deliberate step, and the distance between us seemed to shrink by half. A wave of icy dread washed over me, freezing the panic into something worse.
"Owed?" I whispered.
"You have been hidden for twenty years, Solar," he continued, his eyes scanning my face, lingering on the grey of my eyes. "But the Seal is breaking. The King needs the Sun-Fire of your blood to mend the ancient magic. Your debt is due."
Solar? Sun-Fire? I shook my head, terrified. "I work at a coffee shop and clean libraries. I don't know what you're talking about."
He sighed, the sound exasperated, as if I were a particularly stubborn child. His hand lifted, and the shadows pooling at the base of the bookshelves stretched and twisted, forming ropes that snaked across the floor toward me.
"The King does not negotiate, little girl. You are coming with me."
I didn't wait. Driven by instinct I didn't know I possessed, I hurled the scrubbing brush. It struck the Fae square in the chest.
It was a pathetic, futile act, but in the split second of impact, a flicker of my internal static discharged. A blinding white light erupted from my hand, striking the Fae's chest like a lightning bolt.
He let out a venomous hiss that sounded inhuman and staggered back a step, momentarily shielding his eyes. The ropes of shadow disintegrated.
I didn't look back. I sprinted for the only exit which was the library's rarely used back delivery door and bursted out into the chilly night air. I ran without thought, fueled by the sheer terror of having finally confirmed my deepest fear: I wasn't just clumsy or unlucky. I was something elseand now something ancient was hunting me.
Behind me, the shattering of the massive, leaded glass windows signaled that my pursuer was no longer politely using the front door.
God, how do I explain all the property destruction to Mrs. Harlow?
His voice that was now laced with fury, echoed down the street.
"You cannot escape the Shadow. You belong to the Nightshade Court!"
I kept running, the fear settling deep in my bones.