Chapter 4 has arrived (it's much shorter than the others). If you were hoping we'd switch back to Reynie, then sorry. This one's from the POV of...well, you'll find out, won't you?
Disclaimer: OH. MY. GOD.
Chapter Four: Constance
The Brookville Branch was burned. The Quarryside Branch was closed. It was for these reasons that, at 7:30 in the evening, a very small child in her red raincoat emerged from a bus at the steps of the Stonetown Main Library.
Constance climbed the front steps with moderate difficulty. Then she pushed her way through the doors. Then she wandered through the library, those she passed either ignoring her or doing no more than look at her with mild curiosity. She could tell none of them were actually that interested in her.
She chose to stop at a floor that had no men with suits or briefcases in sight. She toddled over to a small table that had an untouched peanut butter candy bar on it in a cellophane wrapper. A few seconds later, the food inside the wrapper had mysteriously disappeared.
Constance wondered briefly what to do now (in fact she wondered for a fleeting instant where she was and what she was doing), and decided simply to sit down. She waited for someone to come for her, before remembering that she had run away and no one knew where she was. Constance realized that she was getting upset. She was feeling lonely, and more than a little scared.
She cocked her head, looking at a particularly thick book on a low shelf. She squinted at the title. The Myth of ESP. She snorted disdainfully. I'll bet even Sticky would find that book boring, she said to herself, but the thought of Sticky made her throat hurt a little. Why on earth had she run away?
After deliberating for a while, she concluded that she did, in fact, want to go back home. She stood up.
The lights went out.
Not just the lights in the library, but the entire city---she could see so through a window directly across from her. Everyone in the vicinity froze for a few seconds. Then some dim, red emergency lighting came on, and all of the people started moving towards the exits. Except for Constance. She moved aside the abnormally thick tome and hid herself in its place on the shelf.
She was starting to feel very panicky. She sensed that someone, maybe even Ten Men, was looking for her. She also had the sneaking suspicion that her friends were in grave danger. She gulped and looked down at The Myth of ESP. There was a code on it: 133 N292.
Struck by a sudden inspiration, she concentrated with all her might on the series of letters and numbers, and sent her thoughts into the mind of the person she felt most warmly to at the moment; and that was Reynie. She wouldn't send it to Mr. Benedict---she was somewhat angry with him, though she couldn't recall exactly why. Then she waited.
And waited. And waited.
She scowled to herself. What was taking them so long? It had already been, what, five minutes! She was just planning a rhyming insult that she would scold them with once they finally found the time to come and rescue her, when a chill came over her; a chill that seemed to spread from inside of her. She shivered. Someone was coming.
The door creaked open ominously. A well-polished black shoe stepped into a room, supporting a tall man who carried a leather briefcase. His dark eyes narrowed and swept the room, his head turning mechanically back and forth, back and forth.
Setting down the briefcase, he stepped toward a puny little table. On the floor next to it was a candy wrapper, covered in crumbs and peanut butter.
Sharpe smiled to himself. The girl was obviously here. He sniffed the room---actually sniffed it---and noticed an upturned book near a sizable gap in the lowest shelf. It was very thick.
The Ten Man leaned in to look at the book, and noticed another peanut butter smear on its spine, above the call number. His eyes moved up to the dark gap in the shelf, and their sharp gaze caught sight of a tiny boot.
Sharpe smiled openly this time. "Hello, muffin," he said, to a small, frightened squeak. He reached for the shelf.
Despite her immeasurable fear, Constance couldn't help but drift off. The van's tires made a humming noise against the asphalt as they moved. Her eyes got heavier and heavier, while Sharpe kept his own keen eyes fixed on the road, until finally they became too heavy and Constance fell asleep.