Page 190 of Monsters in Love

Might as well organize it, too, as it was now a very big eyesore in an otherwise sparkling study. I quickly sorted, filed, and tossed all the academic debris that had been allowed to pile until he had a very respectable-looking surface that befitted his scholarly pedigree.

I grabbed a microfiber rag and dusted his tchotchkes one by one. I left the Key for last. A twisted bit of metal, stone, and wood that was supposed to represent the labyrinth that he was obsessed with. To me, it looked like scraps of material that someone welded together to form a surreal sculpture.

At one point, it looked like a tetrahedron, at another, a pyramid. It was admittedly fascinating, though it still held no more interest to me than being a shiny paperweight.

“Ah, my legacy,” Professor Snowden said.

I jumped, nearly dropping the thing. “Professor!” I said, a little too loud. “I didn’t see you return.” Placing his prized possession back on his desk, I back away. A few drops of blood appeared on my rag, and I saw a slight cut on my finger.

Great. That was going to be a good look. Stain your professor’s legacy.

“I wasn’t expecting you back for a few hours,” I continued. I hoped he would say nothing about his desk. He was very particular.

He was a wizened old man, tall, lean with wispy white hair atop his head that reminded me of a cotton swab. His eyes disappeared into the folds of his eyelids, and his wire-rimmed glasses clung to his face with magic that defied gravity. It was the only way something so large and bulky could balance on his delicate features.

Despite that, he could see extremely well, and often devoured pages of old text for hours.

He smiled up at me, staring in my general direction. “You know me. I couldn’t seem to stay away.” He reached for the Key. “Plus, I have a special notification to tell me if someone is at my desk.”

Cringing, I apologized. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to touch your desk. When I clean, I can’t seem to stop.”

“It’s all right, my dear, quite all right,” he patted my hand. “I understand. If I remembered you were here, I wouldn’t have worried that my work was being disturbed.”

A rising anxiety twisted my stomach into knots. He didn’t sound mad, and he was saying the right things. But the way his eyes zeroed in on the Key made me step away from him.

Maybe it was time to take a coffee break…

“Did you touch the Key, my dear?” He asked. His tone was innocent enough, as casual as anything else he would say to me. Yet my pulse quickened, and I suddenly felt very much like a little rabbit trapped in its den.

“Only to move it out of the way as I cleaned,” I said. Maybe the reminder that I’d been cleaning and organizing would make him less…strange.

Professor Snowden picked up the artifact and held it so close to his face that every now and again, some of the edge pieces clinked against his thick lenses.

I tried to act casual. It wasn’t the first time that the professor had descended into one of his moods. Usually, he would mutter to himself as he tottered around his bookshelves or scowled over delicate parchment.

Silently, I went to my desk, and searched for my small essentials kit I kept in my drawer. I took out a bandaid from amid my supplies and placed it on my finger. It was already healing, thank goddess. Papercuts along my fingers were the worst.

I turned around to sit back down at my desk when I nearly knocked into Professor Snowden again. “Professor!” I yelped, jumping back. “Uh, sorry for yelling in your face. I didn’t mean it.”

He stuck the artifact in my face. “Does the Key look different to you?”

I blinked at it, leaning back so I could focus on the piece properly. He wasn’t making it easy to inspect it. “I’m not sure, professor. I’m not an expert on it, but I suppose it looks a little different.” There was an extra piece jutting out in the middle that hadn’t been there, but it still looked the same. I mentioned my observations.

He studied it once more, feeling it this time rather than trying to see it. “Yes, I suppose you’re right. There is a little piece. Something new, just here, am I right?”

I nodded, trying to humor him and wondering if this find would make him happier or angrier.

“In all my years, I had never seen this Key change. Not once.” He turned his attention back toward his desk. “Do you recall anything different today?”

The knot in my stomach tightened anew. “I cleaned your desk, and then dusted your paperweights–I mean, your artifacts.”

Snowden’s face lit up. “Oh! Did you use a special solvent or acid?”

“No, just a microfiber cloth. I didn’t want to ruin any finish or polish,” I said.

“Bring it here. Let’s have a look.” His voice held the excitement of a child on Yule's morning. He took the cloth from me, and cleaned the Key, asking if he was doing it right.

“I guess,” I said. “I wasn’t doing anything special, just being careful while dusting it.”

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