Jenkins stood at the mouth of the alley, a single step away from the woman within. At such a close range, his eyes couldn't be mistaken:
"A level seven Enchanter... one step shy of a demigod..."
His hand instinctively went for his gun, but he stopped, remembering where he was. He steeled himself and spoke:
"My apologies, ma'am. Please accept this humble bit of help."
He was already prepared for a desperate, all-or-nothing struggle.
With those words, he tossed the coin into her bowl and immediately turned to leave. The disheveled woman didn't stop him, just stood at the mouth of the alley and let out a strange, grating laugh. A passing paperboy jumped in fright, spun around, and scurried back the way he came.
"What do you think you're doing?"
A cool voice, laced with a faint trace of anger, came from behind her. The madwoman turned, melting back into the alley's shadows, and saw Audrey standing by the wall, watching her.
"Oh, little Audrey~ So you were here all along!"
"It has been a long time... Teacher Brolignans."
It was hardly a friendly greeting, yet both women were smiling.
Jenkins had no idea what was happening behind him. He was just inwardly vexed at having run into yet another bizarre individual and made a mental note to tell Papa Oliver about it later. Once he had put a safe distance between them, he glanced back over his shoulder to ensure the madwoman wasn't following. The speck of light that marked her as an Enchanter was gone.
"I hope that doesn't cause any trouble."
He sincerely hoped it wouldn't.
The address for the collection was 19 Gusmaner Shopping Street, an easy enough place to find. A brass nameplate hung on the left side of the building, but the shop itself was shuttered, a "Closed for Business" sign hanging on the door.
The shop was similar in style to Pops Antique Shop, with the owner's family living on the second floor. Jenkins spent a little money on a handkerchief at the clothing store next door and learned that the owner's family, the Kopols, had moved out of the second-floor apartment last year. They had another residence at 34 De Gaulle Alley.
A three-street detour brought him to the Kopol residence, a two-story building facing the street. According to the plump woman from the clothing shop, the Kopols had rented out the second floor and were now living on the first.
He walked up the steps under the awning and knocked on the door. A long silence followed. He knocked again, more patiently this time, but still, there was no answer.
A quick scan with his Eye of Reality revealed nothing unusual inside the house.
He had run out of conventional leads, but he wasn't out of options. He stepped back down to the street, glanced up, then checked behind him. Seeing no passersby, he squatted and gently set Chocolate on the ground.
He'd noticed a second-floor window was cracked open, clearly unlatched from the inside.
"Go see if anyone's inside," he murmured to the cat. "Damn it, don't tell me the Kopols are trying to skip out on the final payment..."
After some coaxing, Chocolate agreed to help. Jenkins watched as the cat took a running start, then deftly scaled the drainpipe up to the second story. With an effortless leap, it landed on the windowsill, nearly toppling a flowerpot. It then nudged the window open with its head and slipped inside.
An unlocked window meant someone was almost certainly home. Jenkins was already picturing the confrontation that lay ahead.
He checked his pocket watch. On the third minute, the cat reappeared in the window and retraced its steps back down to Jenkins's side. With a flick of its head, it dropped something from its mouth at his feet.
It was a key, threaded onto a thin red nylon cord. From its size and the shape of its teeth, it looked to be the key for the very door he'd just been knocking on.
"Why did you bring the key out?"
He snatched the key up, a little flustered, and moved from the middle of the street to the cover of the building's wall. He was terrified someone would walk by and mistake him for a common thief.
"Was anyone inside? Did they see you?"
Chocolate simply rubbed its cheek against his trouser leg, showing no sign of having understood, let alone intending to answer.
"What was it like inside?"
He posed another question, but then thought better of it. The little cat probably wasn't intelligent enough to describe what it had seen with its paws.
So, he scooped the cat up with one arm and held the key in front of its face with his other hand.
"Take this back. Put it right back where you found it."
"Meow~" Fresh chapters posted on NoveI-Fire.ɴet
Chocolate just narrowed its eyes and nestled its head against his chest, apparently not understanding a word.
"Take it back, please?"
he pleaded. The cat let out a soft meow, still looking utterly clueless.
"Did it see me knocking and think I sent it inside to get the key?"
Jenkins didn't know whether to laugh or cry. He couldn't just keep the key, and besides, the window Chocolate had nudged open was still ajar.
Left with no other choice, he knocked on the door again. After confirming that no one was going to answer, he muttered a silent "forgive me" and, feeling like a burglar, used the key to open the door.
"I'm just returning the key, closing the window, and making sure no one's home. Then I'm leaving!"
He vowed to himself, slipping inside on tiptoe and quickly shutting the door behind him. Before even crossing the threshold, he'd used a flicker of flame to evaporate the snowmelt from the soles of his shoes and burn away any clinging residue. Once inside, he deliberately pulled on a pair of white gloves, conjured a head covering to keep any stray hairs from falling, and even fashioned a pair of shoe covers. Only then did he feel at ease.
He didn't bother with similar precautions for the cat because it rarely shed, and its little paws seldom got dirty. Otherwise, Jenkins would never have allowed it to so frequently ride on his shoulder or nestle inside his coat.
Placing the cat on his shoulder, he followed its lead through the chilly, dim living room to the bedroom. There, he placed the key back inside a small, open box on the bedside table.
Jenkins wasn't sure if Chocolate had been the one to open the box, but considering the cat's talent for raiding every corner of the kitchen for food, it seemed highly likely.
He closed the box, confirmed that the first floor was indeed empty, and prepared to head upstairs, shut the window, and return to the antique shop.
As he ascended the winding wooden staircase, he looked up and saw a simple drawing hanging on the door directly at the top of the landing. He mentally labeled it 'Room One.' The drawing on the door looked like a child's doodle, seemingly depicting two adults holding a child's hands in a forest.
But the image was very abstract, and the choice of colors made Jenkins vaguely uncomfortable. He made an instant judgment: whoever drew this would never become a painter—at least, not a conventional one.