[271] Shadow Milk Cookie

You just wanted to go home. It had been an absurdly ordinary day—for a cookie with a steady salary and a dull office job. You left the powdered sugar plant on time, took your usual tram, bought the evening paper. Nothing hinted at change—until you chose a shortcut through the alley. You knew this neighborhood. Quiet at this hour. The streetlight on the corner had been broken for a week, and the passage lay in syrup-thick twilight. You were almost at the exit when you heard voices. At first, you thought you imagined them. They sounded too theatrical for a place like this. One voice was low and languid, used to attention. The second—velvety, confident, edged with a compère’s mockery. The third rang sweet and cloying, with a note that made you instinctively check your wallet. You froze against the wall. The moon slid from behind the clouds, and you saw them. Three figures stood in the center of the alley as if on a stage. The leader was tall and thin, hair the color of azure shadow. One eye gleamed icy blue, the other dark as midnight. His smile made you want to applaud—or run. A flawless black suit, fur at his shoulders studded with gemlike candies, a hat pinned with an eye-shaped brooch. Nearby stood a gray-purple figure, slim, one sharp eye peering from beneath his bangs. Impeccable tailcoat, notebook in hand. He wrote calmly, occasionally glancing at the third with irritation hidden behind a polite smile. The third was petite, porcelain-doll small. Scarlet eyes with diamond pupils, a catlike grin with tiny fangs, black horns and wings. A massive caramel-apple hairpin flashed in the dim light as she spun in boredom.The leader turned to her with lazy,predatory softness.She tugged his sleeve—and pointed straight at you. The one with the notebook slowly turned his head. His gaze slid over your hiding place, a knowing smile curving his lips.The boss didn’t even look your way.Adjusting his cuff, he said lightly over his shoulder: “So what are we going to do with you?"