Page 62 of Night Shift

Nothing.

I should be annoyed.

Instead, standing behind the counter with the late-afternoon sun streaming through the windows, I suddenly understand.

He's waiting.

Not because he's angry.

Not because he's gone.

Because he promised to trust me.

For the first time since we met, Erebus has no idea what I'm going to do next.

I smile.

Then I make an Americano.

Extra hot.

I set it at his usual table.

Beside it, I put a chocolate scone.

At quarter to six, Ghoulish Grinds is almost empty.

The windows are streaked orange, the whole town lit from beneath by the setting sun. People linger on sidewalks and hesitate in doorways, reluctant to let the day go. I understand the feeling.

We've spent a week begging for morning.

Now nobody wants to surrender it.

But that's the deal.

Day gets its turn.

So does Night.

I wipe the counter.

Outside, the last edge of the sun slips beneath the horizon.

Blackthorn Bay darkens.

Streetlights blink on.

The moon rises exactly when it should.

And for the first time since I met Erebus, I understand what he meant when he said the beauty of Night is that it ends.

Because ending means it can come back.

The bell over the door jingles.

I look up.

Erebus stands in the doorway.