Creepy that he knew stuff about me, without hardly knowing me at all. “Didn’t have much at the time. Choice, I mean.”

“Lucky break, then. Rousseau’s a good man.”

He knew how to talk like you’d been friends for ages. A skill that could catch you off guard. I sure didn’t have it, but at least I knew what to watch for.

“You know Rousseau?”

“By rep. Not to speak to. Sometimes his buyer Jake stops by for a chat.”

I looked up sharp. “Yeah? What do you talk about?”

“Books. Politics. Why? You got a problem with Jake?”

“Nah. He’s my tier-mate. But don’t tell him I was . . .”

“Here? Don’t worry. I know better than that.”

I scrambled for a redirect. “Didn’t know Jake’s a reader.”

“Plays, mostly. Don’t get many, but I save them for him when I do. Still haven’t found him a Complete Works.”

“You mean, everything . . . like an encyclopedia?”

“Everything Shakespeare,” Daniel chortled. “I could fill the stall six times over with Bibles and Qurans and sutras, but the collected plays of W. S.? Can’t be found. Used to be one in every household, not that anyone actually read it.”

“Must be the book they all took with them when they left.”

He grinned. “I’ll use that on Jake next time he asks for one.”

“Jake quotes Shakespeare a lot. Least I think that’s who he’s quoting.”

“It is.” Daniel swept the magazines off the crate and handed them to me. “Stow these on that shelf over there, will you?” He hauled several of the boxes further away from the door, then stood looking at me. “So how’d you settle on Glimmer?”

“ ’Cause when I woke up in the Ward, I didn’t have one.” My standard joke answer.

“Okay. Got that. A glimmer about what?”

“Anything . . . before.”

“Nothing?”

“Not even my name.” I shrugged. “It comes back in bits. Sort of.”

“Oof. That’s rough, losing your whole history. I mean, that’s who we are.” He nodded like he’d heard it before but never got used to it. “Well, the name suits, since you’re all shiny and new. Nothing wrong with starting over. Some would envy the chance.” His smile turned crooked. “My den handle was Danny Boy. I hated it.”

The wind rapped hard at the metal doors. Daniel stirred purposefully.

“Time to be going. I’ll race you to the pass-thrus.”

“On your way?”

“Close enough.” He tossed the big poncho at me. “Saddle up.”

Outside, darkness and the storm were closing in. Got later than I’d reckoned.

Bolting the doors, Daniel yelled over the wind roar. “Forgot to check the tide calendar. Did you?”

I shook my head. He was worried about the storm surge—how big, how soon—and I’d thought to be home by now.