What Is Known

They interviewed nine nannies before they found Claire.

The first three took one look at Emma, sleeping peacefully in her crib, and watched their shadows back slowly toward the door.

The fourth nanny's shadow reached for Emma. Almost tenderly. But when Jessica asked about previous experience, the woman's shadow flinched backward hard enough to hit the wall.

Marcus called his sister after that one. Mira worked for the Department of Shadow Services. She collected separated shadows.

"It's probably fine," Mira had said. But her voice sounded wrong. "Shadow discord in nanny interviews is common. They're nervous."

"All of them?" Marcus had asked. "Nine interviews and every single shadow reacts to Emma like she's dangerous?"

Mira had been quiet for a long moment. "I'll look into it."

That was three weeks ago. She hadn't called back.

Claire arrived on a Tuesday afternoon with a résumé that was almost too perfect. Ten years experience. Excellent references. Early childhood education degree.

She was probably thirty. Brown hair pulled back. She had this warm smile that crinkled the corners of her eyes. She played with her hair when she talked.

"I just moved to the area," she said. "About three weeks ago. Looking to establish myself with a family long-term."

Her references checked out. Previous families loved her. Nothing concerning in her background check.

Her shadow sat calmly in the chair during the interview.

"Tell us about your experience with infants," Jessica said, watching Claire's shadow carefully.

"I love this age." Claire's smile was warm. "They're just starting to discover the world."

Marcus glanced at Jessica. Telepathic parent communication. She nodded slightly.

"Would you like to meet Emma?"

They walked to the nursery. Claire's shadow followed at a normal distance, didn't hesitate at the threshold. She approached the crib where Emma was sleeping.

"Oh," Claire breathed. "She's beautiful."

Her shadow leaned over the crib. Looked down at Emma.

And smiled.

But Claire's references checked out. She started the next Monday.

For the first week, everything was fine. Perfect, even. Claire sent updates throughout the day. Photos of Emma during tummy time. The apartment was clean when they got home and Emma seemed content.

"See?" Marcus said on Friday night. "We were worried about nothing."

Week two, Jessica came home early from a doctor's appointment. Just by an hour.

The apartment was quiet.

"Claire?" she called softly.

No answer.

Jessica walked toward the nursery. The door was ajar. She could hear Claire's voice inside, low and soothing.

"That's right, sweet girl. That's right. You understand, don't you?"

Jessica pushed the door open.

Claire was sitting in the rocking chair, holding Emma. Nothing wrong with that.

Except Claire was facing away from the window. Away from the light.

And her shadow was on the wall in front of her, not behind her.

The shadow was holding Emma too. But its hands were positioned slightly differently. Like it was checking. Examining.

"Claire?"

Claire turned, startled. "Jessica! You're home early."

"Yeah, I—my appointment finished quickly." Jessica couldn't stop staring at the shadow. It had moved back to its normal position now. "Is Emma okay?"

"Perfect angel."

Jessica took her daughter. Felt Emma's warmth. Normal. Everything was normal.

"Actually," Jessica said slowly. "I'm not feeling well. You can take the rest of the day off. Full pay."

Something flickered across Claire's face. "Are you sure? I don't mind staying."

"I'm sure."

After Claire left, Jessica called Marcus.

"Get home. Now."

He arrived twenty minutes later. "What happened?"

"Her shadow was wrong."

"What do you mean wrong?"

"I mean it was in front of her. And it was holding Emma differently than she was."

They stood in the nursery doorway, watching Emma sleep. Her shadow underneath her, perfectly normal.

"We have to let Claire go," Jessica said.

"Based on what? A shadow that looked wrong for a second?"

"Yes."

"Jess, we've been through nine nannies. You're back at work in four days."

"Then I'll take unpaid leave."

Marcus was quiet for a long moment. "Let me install a camera. If something's wrong, we'll catch it on video."

"Fine. But I'm watching that footage every single day."

Marcus installed the camera that night. They told Claire it was there.

Claire didn't mind. "That's very smart," she said. "You should always know what's happening with your baby."

Her shadow nodded in agreement.

For three days, the footage showed nothing unusual. Claire was attentive. Gentle. Emma thrived.

On Thursday evening, Jessica was scrolling through the day's footage on her phone. Fast-forwarding through feeding, naps, the usual routine.

Then she stopped.

Rewound.

"Marcus. Come here."

On the screen, Claire was changing Emma's diaper. Normal. Everyday. Except.

The shadow on the wall behind her wasn't changing a diaper.

It was holding Emma up. Examining her. Turning her slightly.

And Emma's shadow—the baby shadow that shouldn't show intentions yet—was reaching back.

"What the fuck," Marcus whispered.

They watched the rest of the footage in silence. Nothing else seemed wrong. But that one moment. Those few seconds.

"We fire her tomorrow," Jessica said.

But when they went to check on Emma before bed, there was a note taped to the crib.

"Thank you for letting me spend time with her. She's very special. Keep watching. —C"

Claire was gone. Hadn't even collected her last paycheck.

Emma was fine. Sleeping peacefully. Her shadow pooled beneath her, normal and dark and completely ordinary.

"What did she mean?" Marcus asked. "'They always show their true shadows'?"

Jessica lifted Emma from the crib. Held her close.

"I don't know," she whispered.

But she did know. Somehow, she knew.

She just wasn't ready to say it out loud yet.

Marcus pulled out his phone. Tried calling Mira again. It went straight to voicemail.

"Why won't she call back?" he muttered.

Marcus left another message. "Mira, it's me again. Something's happening with Emma. I need you to call me back. Please."

The voicemail beeped. Ended.

In the dim light of the nursery, Emma's shadow stretched a little longer than it should have.