It was Charlotte who approached Nif the next morning, even before Nif had gone for the usual coffee run. Her arms clasped a folder against her chest and her normally perfectly coiffed hair was thrown up into a no-nonsense bun. Had she slept overnight in the office?

“I hope I’m not disturbing you,” she said and her smile, while strained, appeared genuine. That should’ve been Nif’s first warning.

“Not at all.” Nif was fairly certain that folder was the one she’d given the older woman yesterday. “You're early this morning.”

“The thing is, that manuscript you gave me?” Charlotte bounced on her heels and Nif quickly checked the woman hadn’t partially shifted into her wood pigeon shift. No feathers or talons, but she was shoeless and there was a run in her aqua tights.

This would be the perfect opportunity to ask...no…demand the manuscript back. Come on, Nif. Be the change you seek and all that jazz.

“Yeah, about that. You see, Charlotte…”

“I loved it,” and the woman spun on the spot in her excitement. “I was up all night reading it and I ended up crashing in the consultation room. This may very well be the best new author we’ve had all year and honestly, you would’ve been doing Sarah a disjustice if you didn’t pass her on to a more senior editor.”

Well, that was a sucker punch to the gut.

“Oh.”

“I’ve already tripled the budget for the first run and the acquisition meeting is mostly for show. I’m going to get Pavel to read it today and I’ll have Jude throw together a mock cover so we can aim for an early June release.” Charlotte finally noticed Nif’s crumpling face — Nif could feel her bottom lip quivering and the skin around her eyes felt hot as she fought tears.

“Hey. This is a good thing. You want what’s best for the author, right? And those drawings you included, they’re pretty good. I was going to ask Jude to base the designs off them.”

Had Nif been doing a disservice to Sarah? She hadn’t even thought the others would love her story as much as she did. She’d thought she’d have to fight for A Lonely Star to be published, but it seemed she was just being selfish. Wanting to keep it all to herself and thinking the only way it would see the light of day was if Nif was leading the project. How could she have been so arrogant?

“You’re right,” Nif said, laughing wetly. “You’re far more experienced and I’m just happy Sarah will get the recognition she deserves.”

“We’ll take care of her, Jenny. I promise. And you’ll represent your first author soon, I’m sure. It just won’t be Sarah.”

Nif was still nodding as Charlotte walked away, her gaze glued to the paper weight cactus on her desk in a desperate attempt to avoid becoming a blubbering mess.

“You okay?” Clare asked, materialising beside her. Nif almost assumed she’d shifted from her dormouse form, she’d appeared so quickly, but she was wearing jeans, a tunic the colour of growing things and a leather jacket.

“Not really.” Nif chewed on the inside of her cheek. “Do you think I was being selfish? I was so desperate to start my own list that I didn’t even stop to think I wouldn’t be doing what was best for Sarah.”

“You would’ve done an amazing job, but you need to remember we’re a team here. You’d never have done it all on your own. Even Charlotte is having Pavel and Jude help, and in the end, everyone will pitch in.”

“Is it bad of me, though, to feel cheated? Charlotte has just been handed an easy sell. Another great author to be put under her belt after doing none of the work.”

“You’re being a little harsh,” Clare said, squeezing Nif’s arm. “Sifting through all the unsolicited manuscripts has its own challenges, but Charlotte’s job isn’t going to be easy.”

“I know.” Nif rested her head on her crossed arms, trying to absorb the smooth coolness of the desk through her skin. “I’m just angry. At this rate I’ll never be more than an office assistant.”

“You’ve got your review coming up soon. Have a chat with Leon about where you want to be and how he can help you get there.”

“He didn’t even know how long I’ve been working here.” Even Nif disliked the whining edge her voice had taken.

“And I’m not excusing that,” Clare said softly. “Leon is many things, but observant isn’t one of them. You need to make some noise if you want to be noticed.”

“Noise? What kind of noise?”

“The right kind. You’ll know what it is when it happens,” Clare yawned wide and settled behind her desk, flipping open her laptop and wincing when the music from some MORP game blasted the room. “Now isn’t it time for the coffee run?”

“Suppose it is. This is me,” Nif said, gathering the coffee cup basket. “Clearly making the wrong noise.”

“Keep your eyes peeled, Nif. Prepare yourself for the right opportunity so when it comes up, you can grasp it with both hands.”

“You should write motivational books,” Nif grumbled, her thoughts already on seeing Yong-shen and Huan until she remembered her crushed coffee cup. She’d have to get a disposable cup and she hated using those. The day was still young though. She just had to soldier on.

***

“Ah, Jennifer. Just the person I was looking for.” Leon was wearing a purple smoking jacket today that no one else would’ve been able to pull off, but somehow Leon made it look a million dollars.

“Good afternoon, sir.” She clambered up from where she’d been sitting on the thinning carpet, surrounded by boxes of rejected manuscripts and bags full of shredded paper. The consultation room she was clearing out had become a dumping ground for all the unsuccessful stories sent to them by post. Nif was very much supporting digital submissions only, but Hopscotch Publishing was keen to continue an open accessibility policy for people less computer savvy. Nif thought it was outdated and wasn’t supporting a greener work approach. The bags of shredded documents would be dropped off at the local shifter shelter, so at least they weren’t completely going to waste.

“It’s Leon, Jennifer. Please, we’ll be working together closely and I’d like us to be on a first name basis at least.” She liked how he rolled her name on his tongue. She hated Jenny -- and only Charlotte insisted on calling her that -- and used only Nif with the people who she was particularly close with. But no one could quite say her full name like Leon did.

“Of course. You said you were looking for me?”

“Ah yes, Clare mentioned I was perhaps a little too quick to hand off your acquisition pitch, so I wanted to apologise.” He rubbed the back of his neck and he looked young, reminding Nif he was not much older than her. “It wasn’t my intention to dismiss your work so I was wondering if you’d consider joining me for a coffee? My shout. As an apology, but it will also give us a chance to discuss the new project beyond prying ears.”

Nif glanced around the still very cluttered room. She’d hoped to have it sorted before she went home for the day, but she also really wanted to spend more time with Leon. Not because of her crush. She’d mostly outgrown that the first year she worked for Never Archives. But she was curious to find out what he was like outside of the office.

At work he was enthusiastic and yet somehow distant. Clare said he wasn’t observant, but Nif didn’t think that was quite true. He was juggling a dozen things at once: schmoozing with potential investors and established authors, wooing new writers and artists, and he was the unofficial team lead on every project. Leon had the final say on cover designs, font choice, book launches and printing. He wasn’t so much as unobservant, as efficient in the knowledge he retained. Knowing how long an employee had been working for the print was not useful in the overall running of the company.

What did he read when he was at home? Did he like music? Had he travelled a lot? He rarely took any personal leave, but he was constantly out of the office recruiting or networking.

If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

“I’ll see if one of the others has a free moment to assist you with this. It’s not fair to heap this all on your shoulders,” Leon said, glancing around the room. Normally Nif was the one reeled in to do extra work.

“A hot drink does sound lovely,” Nif said and dusted off her knees. “And honestly, I spend enough time bringing them coffee. The least they can do is let me have some time this afternoon to have a drink with you.”

Leon grinned. “That’s the spirit! Let’s go.”

Pavel was roped into sorting the room for Nif, and she only felt a little bad. As a boar shifter though, he kind of enjoyed destroying things, and using the paper shredder was a good afternoon in his book. Nif made a note to ask him to do all the shredding.

“Shall we go to June’s on East Street?” Leon asked, slipping his hands into his pockets as they reached the footpath. Nif wrinkled her nose, and immediately regretted it when he noticed. “Not to your taste then?

“No, I’m sure it’s fine, but I prefer To Bean or Not to Bean.” Feeling daring, she took the lead. She wanted to impress Leon, make some of that noise Clare was talking about, and Yong-shen’s coffee was an easy way to do that. “It’s this way.”

“Oh, I haven’t been there before.” Leon trailed behind her.

“You’ve had their coffee. It’s where I do the morning coffee run,” she said over her shoulder. She adjusted her bag strap and neatly side stepped a horse laden with packages.

“Wait, that’s you that does that?”

Nif shrugged awkwardly. “Who else is going to do it?”

“That’s not part of your job description,” Leon said, a cute frown line marking the smooth skin of his forehead.

“I don’t mind. Really. The owners are amazing and I usually get a free drink for my efforts.”

“Still, that’s why we have interns. They get the coffee, sort the mail, manage the more trivial aspects of running the office.”

“Can you imagine Jemina juggling nine cups of coffee three blocks every morning?” Before he could open his mouth to comment about how she managed to do it, she added, “Really, it’s okay. It’s actually one of the best parts of my day. Not the juggling coffee bit and Stan from advertising crushed my keepcup yesterday, which sucks, but just getting out of the office and talking to the loveliest people is a real highlight. But I’ve never had a chance to actually sit and enjoy one of their divine muffins, so if you don’t mind, that’s where I’m taking us.”

They turned down Wymys Lane and Leon jogged up beside her as the crowds thinned out. Nif could feel his eyes on her and when she glanced over, he was studying her with a bemused expression.

“What?”

“You’re so quiet in the office. I didn’t expect you to be so…”

“Noisy? Someone told me recently that making some noise isn’t a bad thing.”

“I guess I’m realising there’s quite a bit I don’t know about my colleagues, up in my ivory tower as often as I am.”

“Maybe you should take us out for coffee more often?”

“Maybe I shall.”

Nif had to squeeze close to Leon when someone passed, looking down at their phone and unaware they were taking up the entire footpath. Leon radiated warmth and she was distracted so at first she’d thought her bag had just slipped off her shoulder. Except she was then jolted backwards as it was jerked away.

“Hey!” Nif shouted, turning to see who’d stolen her bag and already resigning herself to never seeing it again. The thief was a monkey, some kind of jungle breed, the size of a toddler with a long, curling tail who must’ve been piggybacking on the guy who’d almost walked her off the footpath. There had been articles about this type of crime in the papers. Already the monkey was across the street, leaping over taxi bonnets and using lamp posts to gain speed, while the human accomplice vanished into the crowds.

Nif started after the monkey shifter to only realise Leon had already taken off. She almost tripped on the leather shoes he’d left behind. His lion form was sleek and dark, like his human body, his paws eating up the asphalt as he tore after the thief.

Mostly gobsmacked as her boss actually gained on the monkey, Nif collected the clothes left discarded on the footpath and tried to follow as best she could. She caught up with Leon two blocks over by a newsagency, standing in his human skin with her bag in his hands.

“He tossed your purse when he realised how close I was,” he said apologetically.

“That’s okay. Getting this back was really all that mattered. Thank you so much.” Nif handed over his underwear — briefs — and tried her hardest not to blush.

“I’m still going to report it,” he said, dressing casually on the sidewalk. “It could happen to someone else and they may not be able to chase them down.”

“I really am grateful.” Nif handed over his shirt, still warm from being so close to his skin. “You didn’t need to do that.”

“Your wallet was in there, right? And your phone? It would’ve been a pain to replace and I need you focused on this new project.” He realised he’d done his buttons wrong and had to start again with an embarrassed cough.

“Still. Thank you.” She handed over the last of his clothes and finally checked the condition of her bag. There were claw marks across the leather, but it wasn’t a new bag nor expensive.

“I’ll make a police report. I got a pretty good scent off the thief, so hopefully that’ll help catch them. Why don’t you head back to the office and we’ll do a rain check on that coffee?”

“Sure.” Nif wasn’t feeling up for anything anyway. After the initial surge of adrenaline, she was now washed out and wanted nothing more than to sit down.

“Were you really planning to chase him down yourself?” Leon asked, doing up his shoe laces as Nif stood awkwardly beside him, unsure whether to wait or head to work.

“I was going to try.”

“Even without a shift form? I’m impressed!”

Nif told herself not to take offense, but she couldn’t help but bristle. “What do you mean?”

“Well, even if you had a soft shift like a mouse or a rabbit, I think you would’ve still given it a go.” He stood and rocked from heel to toe, as if his feet were not quite the right size anymore. Nif knew the theory of shifting. All teenagers had to attend the classes at school, whether they were shifting already or not, but she’d never had that out of body sensation people spoke of when they’d switched between forms too quickly. Leon rolled his shoulders and then sighed, offering Nif a shy smile. “I admire that. You don’t let anything limit you.”

She wasn’t sure if that was a compliment or not, even though it was clear Leon intended it to be one.

“I should head back,” she said instead, looping her bag strap over her neck and shoulder. “Call me if you need me to come down to the police station.”

“It won’t be necessary, I’m certain. Let Clare know I’ll be out for a bit. Oh, and before you go, pass me your phone.”

Nif fished her phone out of her bag and handed it to him, screen already unlocked.

Leon swiftly entered in his personal contact information and then called his own phone.

“I’ve your number now, too, and you can call me if you need anything.Take care, Jennifer.” He strode off without looking back and Nif was having a tough time trying to decide if she was glad to see him go or not.

Nif was already at the next corner when she realised she hadn’t gotten around to asking who she would be working and what he’d written. She pulled out her phone, texted Leon a message, and waited to see the read icon change. First date nerves fluttered to life in her stomach. Don’t be silly, Nif. Having his number doesn’t change things.

The author’s pen name is Cliff Salem. Leon replied. He wrote the Fragmented Chronicles.

Nif’s heart skipped a beat, her lips stretching into an uncontrolled smile. She was going to be working with Cliff Salem! The author had come out of nowhere, the fourth and last book of his Fragmented Chronicles only released a month ago and each book had superseded the one before. Extremely private, Cliff had refused interviews and book launches, but he was highly active on social media. Nif had only managed to read his first novel, the one written before the Fragmented Chronicles. It was a sweet novella called The Atrium, about a girl trapped inside a glass dome. His use of imagery always walked that fine line between poetic and pretentious, and yet somehow he pulled it off. All four of the Fragmented Chronicles were sitting on her bedside table, waiting for a quiet moment for her to get lost between the pages.

No one even knew what he looked like, but Nif was not only going to meet him, she was going to work with him!

Remember, this information is need to know at the moment. We’ll be making the announcement at Never Archives next week. Leon added.

I won’t say a word.

Nif was so distracted by the knowledge of who she’d be working with (and making plans to binge read the series), she’d almost forgotten the purse snatching entirely until Clare wrinkled her nose and asked why her bag smelt like monkey.

After Nif told Clare what had happened, the older woman made her a cup of tea and shooed Prishna away, who had a nose for gossip, so Nif could fill her afternoon with busy work until it was time to pack up. She was the first to leave for once.

Her doctor’s appointment was two bus stops away, but she left early enough to walk. At first she enjoyed the fresh air and the brief afternoon warmth before the evening chill moved in. A tall man, built like a vending machine passed too close and she darted to the side, keeping her eyes on him until he was clear. Nif cradled her bag close to her chest. An ache pulsed behind her eyes and she was regretting her decision to walk, but by the time she reached the clinic, her anxiety had faded, grey and lavender echoes lingering on the edges of her mind.

No wonder she’d never shifted. She could never hold onto a strong emotion for long enough. She was starting to think her parents were right. Avoiding any significant emotional trauma had to be a good thing, but a small thought nagged at her. Maybe there really was something wrong with her?

No, she was fine. She wasn’t broken. There were plenty of others who were like her, and they all went on to live perfectly normal lives.

She could always ask Heather, though. The doctor always had a few reassuring words for Nif, and she really needed that right now. The bell chimed as Nif entered the clinic waiting room, and the sweet smell of vanilla warmed her through. A chat with Heather was the perfect way to end her day.