Radley's Labyrinth for Horny Monsters Annabelle Hawthorne (ebook reader browser .txt) 📖

awesome! Let’s go right now!” Stepping back, he expected Tink to jump down from the chair. She remained in place, scratching her head.

“Tink no remember how to get to Library.” Scowling at the table, she closed her eyes. “Tink remember red book. Red book lead to Library. But don’t know where red book is.”

“Fuck,” Mike whispered, sincerely hoping that the red book hadn’t been out in the garage.

“Is okay. We just look through house for books.” Tink jumped down, leaving her crossbow on the table. Bending over, she pulled the box of Pop-Tarts from her backpack. “Maybe eat these now too.” She ripped the wrapper with her teeth and shoved the first one in her face, handing Mike the second. “Husband come, much look with Tink.”

Mike sighed, setting the hammer down on the table, then followed her into the living room, tucking his Pop-Tart into his back pocket.

Dana set the small box of tools on her desk at home, moving her textbook to the floor to make room. She had taken the tools from her school, sneaking in to avoid the eyes of classmates she was already struggling to remember. Every step through those long college halls brought up a flood of memories of the person she’d used to be. She was still enrolled at the school, but her constant absence made her a stranger to most of the student body. Other than the occasional curious glance, she had interacted with nobody on her way to the maker space.

Closing her eyes, she had once again heard the hum of 3D printers, punctuated only by the sound of a Dremel being used by a student who’d been trying to cut through a small aluminum tube.

She’d deliberately ignored the south side of the room. The memorial for Alex had still been pinned to the wall, directly over the workstation where they had met as freshmen. The pictures had faded already, and she knew that one day, nobody would even know who Alex was and pull the photos down.

Dana deliberately closed the door on that thought and opened her eyes, focusing instead on the mental list in her head. Now she had what she needed, precision tools that would let her do intricate work inside the clock. It was time to get started.

Gears from the clock were spread across the table. Upon opening the clock first thing this morning, she had discovered that something had damaged most of the moving parts inside. Teeth were missing from gears, and more than a couple of them had been broken in half. She wasn’t certain how the inside of a grandfather clock could take such damage but was determined to do her best to repair it.

She had unrolled a piece of butcher paper across her desk, using it to trace pieces, label where they had come from, and even tape them in place. She set up the wire holder she had borrowed, a device with a magnifying glass meant for delicate soldering work. Clipping one of the smaller gears in place, she was able to look at where one of the teeth had broken off.

“Strange,” she muttered, examining the surface of the gear. Whatever had ripped the tooth off had taken it completely. She removed the gear, put it back inside its outline, and wrote the word score underneath. Using calipers, she made a few quick measurements of one of the surviving teeth, writing next to it. She had access to some metal 3D printer ribbon, the good stuff, and was fully convinced she could print a new tooth for the gear and epoxy it on.

Her world faded to black, her entire focus on the job before her. She put on a visor with a magnifying glass and a light to get a good peek behind the clockface, checking for more missing parts. The exploded diagram on the butcher paper was clearly missing a few necessary gears for the clock itself to work, and she needed to find them. Poking around with a long pair of tweezers, she was able to find a missing spring. Just then her phone went off in her pocket.

“Shit,” she muttered, staring at the screen. What had felt like maybe an hour had been nearly five, and she needed to get ready for her delivery job. After stripping in place, she slid into her work outfit, wondering if Mike would order something tonight. She made a mental note to drop by his place anyway and give him an update on the clock if she was on his side of town. Shoving her way out into the cool, open air of the world, she looked back at her apartment.

The clock appeared in her mind, calling to her. This was the start of an obsession; she could feel it in her bones. Maybe after she finished fixing it, she would keep it for a few days, just to properly enjoy it before giving it back. As she backed down the driveway, the clock was on her mind so much that her eyes tricked her into thinking it was watching her go from her bedroom window.

The search for the missing book began in the front room, and Mike was grateful that everything had been uncovered already in order to repair the damage done by Jenny last week. He checked underneath the furniture and even removed couch cushions just in case, hoping to spot this book that Tink was convinced would lead them to the Library.

“How big of a book are we talking about, Tink?” Mike asked, picking up an ashtray. It looked like the kind that was purchased for a relative on a trip, then never used. “Textbook, dictionary, diary, maybe?”

“Husband find red book. What more does husband need know?” Tink had pulled a loose brick from beneath the mantel, revealing an empty depression behind it. “Find red book, tell Tink.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Mike opened a box next to the couch. It contained several items that had been strewn through the