Odds and ends were strewn about in the clear spaces, lingering close enough to the Kin to blacken, or spread amid the glass-encased shelves: papers, a stray fountain pen, small clips and fasteners. Some were held by wiry frames, others suspended above open flame, still others connected by a myriad of tubes, the entire contraption being called “the Kin system.” Throughout the maze of glass, golden liquid simmered and frothed. All these shelves and the majority of the countertop were cluttered with glass bottles, tubes, and flasks. The place looked like it had once been a candy shop, with a long counter along three sides of the room, wood on top but glass below to display shelves there. Apart from that chime, there wasn’t much decoration to be had. No bell jingled by the door, but a cheap set of wind chimes clinked as a breeze filtered in. She kicked the door open with no more attempt at subtlety. “Someone’s running late,” a voice drawled. An answering sound came from inside, and she grimaced. She grabbed the handle, pushed lightly inward … and the hinges groaned. She glared at it while climbing the few stairs, lugging her bike up alongside.

she was sure it would reach anyone in a mile radius.

Late? Ha, of course not, what are you talking about? All that stood between her and impunity was that damn squeaky door though its noise was usually unnoticeable, in the quiet of 8:30 A.M. All she had to do was sneak in, sit down, pretend she’d been there the entire time. No, she decided, no one was visible through the windows. Laura gripped the handles of her bike harder and squinted, taking in the building before her.

City of Broken Magic by Mirah Bolender