“Hey Mira, I’m going home,” my coworker, Kari, called out.

“Okay, drive safe!” I yelled back. It was after closing, the only time we dared yell inside the library.

"Are you sure you don’t want a ride? Didn’t you ride your bike to work?” I could hear the genuine concern in her voice, but I could also hear her keys jingling against her metal water bottle and the sound of her adjusting her giant purse from one arm to the other. She was obviously in a hurry to leave and all ready to go and I wasn’t even done working.

“No, I’ll be fine. Don’t worry about me.”

She still waffled. I knew the weather was supposed to be bad, but what’s a little rain in Georgetown?

“It’s kind of bad out there, Mira.”

“I’ll be fine, Kari. I do it all the time. Go home, get your bubble bath and relax. I’ll see you tomorrow.” While I talked I didn’t bother to look up from my work. I was almost done with the book in front of me and only had two more to do. I wanted to finish the task now and would stay late to do it, rather than pick it up again in the morning.

“Alright. Text me when you get home!”

“I will. You do the same!”

Kari didn’t bother to reply. I could hear her high heels click across the tile of the library and then I heard the after-hours security system beep as the doors opened and Kari exited. Even from where I sat in the office I could hear the gale outside. Maybe I should have taken her up on that ride. Shit.

“Oh well. I’ve made my bed and now I’ll have to… bike in it.”

I left the half-finished lamination in front of me to get up and turn on the radio. It was a vintage radio, perhaps even an antique. I wasn’t sure how long it had been in the office, but we were publicly-funded and as long as it still worked I knew we wouldn’t get another one. It was permanently set to a public radio station, the tuner knob having given up the ghost before my tenure at the library even started. I sat back down in my office chair and returned my attention to scoring the sheet of laminate in front of me while jazz music filled the empty air of the office.

Once I had gotten the hang of it, laminating book covers was one of my favorite activities. I was an introvert and didn’t really like working at the desk, greeting people and answering questions. What I liked was working with the books, like this one. It was one we’d had for a while, but the cover was starting to wear badly. By the time I started working there the library already had a policy of laminating the covers of all paperback books upon intake, whether purchased or donated. But before my time the books were only laminated on an as-needed basis, and some of them missed that window entirely. 

I cast a forlorn glance at the bin of books beside the table. Some of them were unsalvageable and would end up in the summer library sale. We didn’t have the staff to go through the entire library and laminate all of the unlaminated paperbacks, so when one was turned in and looked rough, it came to meet me. If it missed that window, it went into the bin.

Now that I was alone, I talked to the book while I worked on it. “I can straighten that corner,” I told the book, smoothing its bent cover with a small burnishing tool. Then I finished scoring the laminate sheet, carefully peeling away the backing grid and applying the sticky film with another tool to squeeze out all the air bubbles. When I finished, the book was as close to perfect as possible. I affixed its new barcode and other stickers, then grabbed the next book on the pile.

“Your spine is broken, and your thread is coming loose.” I sighed as I surveyed the damage. It was an old hardcover that probably should have been retired, but it was a unique book. “I need the archival glue and a piece of linen to fix you,” I told it as I laid it down on the table and got out of my seat to go find the materials. As I stood the security system beeped and once again, I heard the gale outside.

“We’re closed,” I called out, hesitating in the office as I mentally tallied who had been inside the library working that day. Me, Kari, the new janitor guy… the intern. What was her name?

But Kari was the last one to leave. Heavy footsteps rang out on the tile and my pulse quickened a little. I looked around the little glass-walled office, looking for something to protect myself with. I’d stupidly called out and whoever was approaching knew that someone was here, even though the frosted glass of the office likely didn’t reveal my presence.

“Please leave,” I tried again, “we’re closed.” I stepped sideways and grabbed a heavy-duty stapler from Kari’s desk. I unfolded it and waited. It was a terrible weapon, but it would give him something to think about for a millisecond before the approaching stranger murdered me. Then the footsteps stopped. That was almost worse than hearing them come closer.

“Miranda Vidal?”

Scowling, I tried to peek through the doorway to see him, but he wasn’t visible through the doorway yet. The voice that called out my name was deep and booming, and sounded like it belonged to a giant. More importantly, I didn’t recognize it. No one I knew called me Miranda. I’d been “Mira” since birth. How did he get in here? The security system was supposed to be automatic and would only let us out this time of night. If we wanted in, we had to swipe our employee badge and even then, the system was touchy. Sometimes the alarm would still go off, even with a badge.

“We are closed. You need to come back tomorrow.”

“I’m not here for the library. I’m here for you.” The footsteps started again and my heart leapt into my throat. I stupidly backed into a corner between Kari’s desk and a couple of rolling book trucks that were parked beside it, knocking the books off of one of the trucks and starting a loud avalanche of hardcover textbooks that announced my whereabouts if nothing else had.

“Go away,” I tried to sound fierce but my voice cracked, and then he was in the doorway. He stooped a little, then entered the office and turned his whole body to face me. “What are you, like, seven feet tall?” I don’t know why I blurted it out, but I did. It was hardly the most striking part of his appearance. Long, blonde, wet hair hung down and draped over his shoulders. A leather trench coat, also soaked with rain, made him almost look like a cowboy, but the knee-high combat boots with metal buckles changed the effect. Black jeans and a heavy metal band t-shirt swung him all the way into Goth territory, then I noticed the black cowboy hat in his hand. “What are you supposed to be?”

He grinned. Oh no. The tall stranger was handsome, but in a mildly threatening way. His canines were too sharp and his face a little too-chiseled, if that was possible. Icy blue eyes flashed out from beneath his dripping wet hair and I wondered over and over again what I was looking at. Is he even real?

“My name is Harper Berg. I’m an auditor. And I’m not seven feet tall. I’m only six feet and seven inches.” His grin widened while he spoke and I realized that he must find intimidating people amusing.

“Auditor of what?” I racked my brain for all the things that a library would be audited for. But why at nearly nine in the evening on a random, rainy Tuesday?

He looked around the room, raindrops falling in circles around him as they shook loose from his hair and the cape of his leather coat. “Books.”

I stared at him. This didn’t seem like something I should deal with. I wasn’t in charge of the library, and no one had told me about this audit anyway. In the moment, everything felt like a dream. Harper didn’t look like he belonged in our world, and I felt small and frumpy standing in front of him in my loose, brown sweater and sensible slacks. “You can come back tomorrow, when my boss is here. She comes in at eight–”

“I don’t want to deal with your boss. I want to deal with you. You understand books,” he pointed at me, then made his way to the bin of unsalvageable books.

“We all understand books,” I argued, “we all have library science degrees.”

“Not like that,” he laughed as he peeled off the trench coat and draped it over Kari’s desk chair. “You care about them, Miranda. You talk to them, you take care of them, you save the ones that aren’t supposed to be saved. You know that a book is more than just a bunch of words and paper.”

He’s crazy. He’s crazy, probably homeless, just someone who thought he could sleep in the library and that didn’t work out so now, he’s talking to me. “Can you please come back tomorrow? I really think you should go.”

“I can’t leave until I find a particular book. It doesn’t belong in your library.” He made himself comfortable at the table where I’d been working and looked at the broken hardcover. “Sad,” he murmured as he assessed the damage. “Do you have some glue, linen, perhaps some cardstock?”

“Yes,” I replied, a touch annoyed. “I was just about to repair that book when you barged in–”

“Humilis,” he muttered. I don’t know why, but I immediately stopped talking and wandered off to get the supplies. I returned to the main office with them and set them on the table beside him.

“Thank you, Mira, was it? Mira. That’s a lot prettier than Miranda. I agree with you. I smell coffee. Do you have a coffee maker here?”

I nodded.

“Please make a pot of coffee, Mira.”

The main office had several small offices along each side of it. Unlike the main office, which was partitioned from the library with frosted glass, the smaller offices were meant to be private and were built of solid walls and doors. I stepped into one that served as our break room and cleaned the coffee maker, then made a pot of coffee. I stood, transfixed, watching as each drop of coffee landed in the pot. When the machine burbled and gasped the last few drops into the pot, I picked up the carafe and a clean mug and took them to Harper.

He was almost done repairing the book in front of him, but he stopped and smiled up at me. “Did you bring me that mug on purpose?”

I looked down at it and grimaced. Everyone who worked inside the office had chipped in to furnish the break room with a random assortment of mugs and the mug I’d selected featured a floral pattern, the flowers obviously all vulvas. “No, I, I just grabbed it, I’ll get another–”

“No, I happen to like those very much.”

My blush deepened as he took it from me and poured the coffee into it. He took a sip, frowned, then muttered something at the cup. The coffee stopped steaming and he smiled after the next sip. “Much better.”

“Did you just,” I’m going to sound like a crazy person. “Did you just make the coffee–”

“Colder? Yes. Magick,” he winked at me, then waved his hand in a pretty gesture. I thumped into the chair behind me and stared at the mug on the desk. I don’t know what’s happening to me.

“What’s happening, Mira, is something that you’re not going to remember in the morning. Which is really too bad.” The more he talked the fuzzier I felt, reminding me of the last time I’d had a filling at the dentist and he had given me laughing gas for my anxiety.

“Did you give me something?”

“Sort of, but no. If you remember any of this, you’ll think it was a dream. Just relax, fall asleep.”

“No. I have to be alert to ride my bike home,” I fought the fuzzy feeling and sat up straighter in the chair, shaking my head and trying to focus on the room around me. “You need to leave,” I told him again, but he didn’t even look at me.

“You’re not riding your bike home,” he chuckled a little. “I’ll put it in the bed of my truck and take you home, and in the morning, you’ll think you rode it home.”

“You don’t know where my home is and I’m not telling you,” I sneered at him. Who does this guy think he is? I need to call the police. In my patent leather Mary Janes I struggled to my feet, then slammed back into the chair.

“Sit down,” his voice was colder now. “You’re not even dressed for the weather, and if you ride your bike home tonight you will get hit by a car. I can’t let that happen because even though I’m here for this book,” he snapped the repaired hardcover shut, then stood and grabbed his coat, “in eight days you will come into possession of another book that I need a lot more. And if you get hit by that car tonight, you won’t be here to notice that book and set it aside for me. So, you are going to tell me now, do you have a coat? Purse? Belongings you need to take with you?”

I pointed into the break room at my employee locker. Harper nodded and stepped into the room, and a few seconds later I heard the locker open for him. When he returned I stood up and let him tug the coat onto me, then watched him sling my heavy book bag over his own shoulder.

“Are your keys in there somewhere?”

I nodded.

“Alright, upsy-daisy,” was all the warning I got before he hauled me over his shoulder with one arm, the other hand throwing on his cowboy hat and grabbing the book.

“I have to turn out the lights–”

He whistled and the lights went out. The radio and the idling computers all turned off as well.

This has to be a dream.

“It is.”

His heavy footsteps rang out across the hard floor of the library as he carried me toward the door, the system beeping as we exited. Rain pelted us immediately and the wind rushed past, carrying autumn leaves and raindrops with it. The sharp scent of pine was heavy in the air and all around us pine needles and small branches plastered the parking lot. “My bike,” I reminded Harper, listening to him grunt as he tucked the book somewhere inside his coat and turned back for my bike.

“So many interesting things to remember tonight,” he muttered as he lifted my bike out of the bike rack and headed deeper into the parking lot. When he stopped, I could hear the bike clattering into the bed of a truck.

“What are you, like, a Goth cowboy wizard or something? But you drive a truck?” I laughed at my own description of him, but if he was amused, it didn’t show.

“Headroom is a serious issue when you’re my height,” he murmured as he opened one of the doors and gently set me into a seat. “Buckle up and go to sleep.”

“No.”

He sighed. Sitting in the seat of his truck I was finally eye-level with him and I used it to glare at him as meaningfully as possible. “If you don’t sleep, you make my job a lot harder. It’s better if you sleep–”

“Why, so you can do something weird to me?”

Harper cocked his head to the side and raised his eyebrows at me. “Do you actually think I have to do anything ‘weird’ to get women to sleep with me? I’m tall, built, and have magick fingers,” he wiggled the digits of one hand at me. “They pretty much just throw themselves at me, to be honest, Mira.” He slammed the door before I could work up a witty reply, not that I had one. I watched in the mirrors as he circled the back of the truck, pulling a cover down over the bed to protect my bike before getting into the driver’s seat.

“That was nice of you.”

“I do try to be nice, when people allow me to be. Are you buckled?”

I wasn’t, and rather than give me the opportunity to do it or be lippy about it, he reached across me and did it himself. Harper fell silent as the truck’s engine roared to life, then purred as he steered it onto Georgetown’s rain-soaked streets. In Georgetown’s relatively open roadways there was little debris, but as he guided the truck into Seattle’s suburbs bits of spruce and juniper pelted the windshield, the occasional pinecone or spray of hail bouncing off the roof. It was one of Seattle’s typical end-of-autumn or beginning-of-winter storms, a gale of transition built-up on the conflicting energies of warm and cool air. I was used to it after living there my whole life, but I wondered if Harper was.

“I live at–”

“I know.”

“How would you know? You don’t even know me, we only just met. 4019–”

“Rainier Avenue, in a little post-war bungalow you think is haunted. It isn’t, your grandmother just died in it and now it gives you the willies. You’re a self-professed cat lady at twenty-six years old, your last boyfriend is a horrendous jerk, you’re afraid of heights and the dark, and you have a secret passion for crocheting bikinis.” He cocked an eyebrow at me, then looked thoughtful. “I don’t understand how that would work, but, more power to you.”

“What, did you hack my social media or something?”

“I didn’t have to. Your favorites are public. So are your bikini try-on videos, by the way. Amazing.”

He’s seen my bikini projects? I could feel color creeping up my neck. What if my coworkers see those videos?

“Oh, they have. That new janitor really, really likes crocheted bikinis. Now, you need to go to sleep or you’re going to see something very upsetting in about three blocks, Miranda Isabell Vidal. Sleep.”

“No.” I gripped the seat and clenched my teeth while Harper shook his head beside me.

“Don’t be stubborn. It’s for your own good. Sleep.”

I didn’t want to, and he couldn’t make me. I counted down the blocks instead, three, two–I screamed as two cars collided in the intersection in front of us, slamming into each other head-on. One car came to a rest in the middle of the intersection, steam rising up from its busted radiator and twisting in the raging winds that rocked Harper’s stopped truck. The other car shot through the bike lane and finally stopped when it crashed into a low retaining wall. “You weren’t supposed to see that.”

“We have to help them,” I started to unbuckle, but his hand shot out and stopped me.

“No, you’re not supposed to even see this. You can’t get out and interact with it, I don’t know what will happen.” Somehow, I knew he wasn’t lying to me, and I knew that I had to listen to him about this. “You are supposed to be breathing your last breaths between that retaining wall and the front of that Subaru right now,” he told me quietly. “You aren’t supposed to be awake to see this. Trauma leaves an indelible mark on the psyche, even if we don’t remember it. You will be afraid to ride your bike for the rest of your life and you won’t know why. Just like your fear of heights. The fear of the dark is not my fault.”

Harper put the truck in drive and carefully drove around the wreck, leaving the drivers to fend for themselves, if they were able. “Have we met before?”

“We did, once, though you were better about forgetting it that time and we didn’t get to spend nearly so much time together.” He smiled a little wistfully. “I like you, Mira. Now, please go to sleep so that when we see each other again next week, I can have the pleasure of meeting you once again.”