Chapter 10: The Clock

I went home on Tuesday morning with the day I had promised him spent, and Runa Aas was waiting in the store.

She stood at the long wall of brass letterboxes with her white coat over her arm, reading the numbers.

The sign still said CLOSED.

"The door was open," she said, without turning.

"Gerda's at the dentist."

"I know. I checked."

I put my satchel down on the counter and kept my hands on it.

"Box 9," Runa said, tapping the brass. "The Moon's box. I looked it up. Old custom, very sweet."

"The store opens at seven."

"I'll be brief." She turned. "Three nights ago at midnight, I was walking back from the hall.

"I saw you let yourself in the side door.

"I saw you at box 9 with an envelope. Then you left without it."

My pulse stayed even.

I was almost proud of it.

"I mail my own letters here," I said. "It's a post office."

"It hasn't been one for forty years."

"Old habits."

"I was curious," Runa said, "so I watched on Friday, and again on Sunday.

"Then I wrote one myself, to see what the Alpha would do."

"He knew it wasn't hers in one line."

For the first time her smile slipped.

"He told you that?"

"He told the clerk he was sure. He was proud of it."

"Interesting."

"Is it?"

"It means he really loves the real one."

She said it slowly, tasting it.

"Which means the real one has a great deal to lose."

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