“A teenager? Asking for me?”

“She didn’t ask for you by name. She asked to see the man in charge and, well…she said you had need of her services before noon.”

Who was this? Some teenage hooker?

He was about to tell the acolyte to send her away when the phrase before noon struck a chord.

“She said ‘before noon’? You’re sure?”

“Positive.”

Slootjes was planning to send out his email blast at noon. Could this be related?

What was the harm? The Change had begun. Anything could happen. He’d take a chance.

“Send her in.”

A few seconds later the acolyte admitted a dark-haired teenage girl, rather pretty. But something odd about her—far beyond the oddity of the ratty old blanket she’d tied around her neck to wear like a cape.

Ernst stood and extended his hand. “Good morning, Miss…?”

“Ellie. Just call me Ellie.”

As she took his hand Ernst felt a mild shock race up his arm as giant spindly spider legs sprang out behind her, framing her. He managed to repress a gasp and maintain a stolid front. He’d seen his share of strange things during his years in the Order. This was simply another.

When he broke contact, the legs faded from view. And abruptly the reason for her presence became clear.

“Well, Ellie, I was going to ask what service you thought you could render, but I think I know what it might be.”

“I was guided here to solve your problem.”

“Guided by whom?”

“The same who delayed the sunrise.”

“And why would one capable of such a feat stoop to take part in this mundane matter?”

“I am not privy to that.”

Privy…not exactly a typical component of the modern teenage argot. But then, this Ellie obviously was not a typical teen.

“Although,” she added, “I might venture that the answer is simply: Because it can.”

“But how will you…?”

“I am equipped.”

Remembering his glimpse of those giant spindly legs, he nodded. “I’m sure you are.”

“Where is the problem?”

“Right this way.”

He led her down the dank stairwell to the archives where he knocked on the door. After a pause, Slootjes spoke from the other side.

“Who is it? Is that you, Drexler?”

Without prompting, the girl answered, “No, sir, it’s me, Ellie.”

“I don’t know an Ellie. Go away!”

“Please, sir. I have something for you—something very important.”

Another pause, and then the sound of someone working the lock. Ernst backed into the shadows where he would not be seen.

The door swung inward a sliver for a moment, enough for a one-eyed peek, then opened the rest of the way. Slootjes appeared, pistol in hand, but he held it down at his side. He looked even more haggard and wild-eyed than when Ernst had spoken to him earlier.

“Who are you and how did you get down here?”

“I’ll only be a moment,” the girl said as she deftly slipped past him.

“You cannot come in here!”