The woman who called herself Miss Stevel set down her teacup with a sigh. The rain outside did little to cool the room; if anything, it only made the air more muggy. She took the initiative to shrug off her heavy coat.
To Jenkins's surprise, she wasn't wearing everyday attire beneath the coat, but a nun's habit. He could tell by the cut that it didn't belong to the Sage's Church, and with no emblem on the chest, he couldn't identify which church the distinctive robe represented.
"Could she be undercover?"
The thought drifted absently through Jenkins's mind. He'd had so many questions prepared, but now that he was finally face to face with the person he'd been searching for, he found himself at a loss for where to begin.
"Jenkins," she began, her tone asured. "Alright, I'll call you that. We've never t, but I've been aware of you ever since the first edition of your book ca out six months ago. Papa Oliver's apprentice... that's a rather unusual position to hold. I don't know what circumstances led you to the antique shop, but it always brings back mories of my own past... And please, refrain from guessing my age, young man. That look in your eyes is quite rude."
As she spoke, Jenkins let out a sigh of his own and turned his gaze to the window. He knew the answers he sought were finally within reach:
"Then why co to Nolan to find ? Did you really return to a city you haven't seen in years just because I was looking for you? To be frank, Miss Stevel, I'm in quite a bit of trouble at the mont. If you're here for sothing else, I suggest you tell now. Otherwise, if you get entangled in my problems, things could get very ssy."
"Trouble?"
The woman tilted her head, studying Jenkins's expression. The serious set of his jaw convinced her he wasn't lying. She followed his gaze to the rain streaming down the windowpane, looking out at the distant skyline of Nolan—a city both strange and familiar. A wave of complex emotions seed to wash over the red-haired woman.
"I didn't co here on any particular business," she explained. "I simply wanted to see you for myself, to find out what sort of apprentice Papa Oliver has found this ti. I never had the chance to et the young man who died during the Scourge of the Undead. That's been a regret of mine for many years."
"Just to see ? Then why haven't you returned to Nolan or even written to Papa Oliver in all these years? I found the piece of bark you sent him for a Year's End Festival. I imagine if you two had been in contact since then, you would have told him about it, and it wouldn't have taken until last week for to find it."
"That was a long ti ago... Jenkins, what's your impression of Papa Oliver? What kind of man do you think he is?"
She changed the subject.
"Kind, optimistic, open-minded, with a great sense of humor..."
Jenkins listed off the most complintary adjectives he could think of. In truth, aside from the occasional bout of stinginess, Papa Oliver seed to be a man without any real flaws.
"Have you ever noticed anything strange about him?"
"I know he's lived for a long ti," Jenkins admitted. "Well over a hundred years."
Jenkins had discovered a connection between Papa Oliver and Dolores's great-grandfather, which confird he was far older than the fifty-odd years his appearance suggested.
"That's right. It's one of his secrets. He was once afflicted by a terrible curse. The Gaze of the Sage could have dispelled it, but there was a risk it would utterly shatter his soul, so he refused the treatnt. Mortals are so very fragile, you see."
"A curse that grants long life?"
Jenkins asked. If he hadn't known Papa Oliver was actively investigating the Carl family, he might have suspected him of being the mysterious figure who carved the word "Awakening" into that tree.
"Yes. It's an eternal wound in his heart. But that's not why I left. I left Nolan because of sothing else... another secret..."
Her words trailed off. She frowned, her gaze drifting to a corner of the room, clearly with no intention of elaborating. After waiting a mont, Jenkins had no choice but to press on:
"What other secrets does he have?"
"Papa Oliver's back! I'm staying here. You can find any evening after six within the next two weeks. Don't tell him I'm back in Nolan!"
She quickly flicked a calling card at Jenkins, then shot to her feet and snatched her coat from where it lay. With a snap of her fingers, a white mist suddenly swirled around her. When it dissipated a mont later, Miss Stevel was gone.
"Ah, Jenkins, where are you off to? Get over here, quickly! I'm afraid things are more complicated than we imagined!"
The voice belonged to Papa Oliver, who had just rushed back inside. He clearly hadn't brought an umbrella; when Jenkins saw him, he looked as if he'd just crawled out of a river fully clothed.
He had no umbrella and no briefcase, and even his hat was missing. A trail of dripping footprints led from the entrance into the shop.
"Co with ! Now!"
Papa Oliver urged, reaching out to pull Jenkins by the arm. Jenkins had no idea what was going on, but he acted fast, scooping up his cat and grabbing his coat and umbrella before following Papa Oliver out the door.
The downpour outside was even heavier than Jenkins had imagined. The rain fell in dense sheets, hamring the ground and splashing in every direction as if trying to shatter the pavent. The sheer force of it was staggering, and the sound inspired an unfounded sense of dread.
Papa Oliver pulled Jenkins, about to dash into the downpour. As Jenkins turned to shut the shop door, Papa Oliver roared at him:
"There's no ti! Leave the shop!"
"No," Jenkins declared. "You're not Papa Oliver. Who are you?"
Flas surged from Jenkins's hand. The "Papa Oliver" holding him recoiled as if shocked, yanking his hand away. The impostor leaped back, landing in the middle of the street, and the remnants of the Inexhaustible Fire on his hand were sohow extinguished by the rain.
The charred flesh of his hand regenerated with astonishing speed. It was as if the falling raindrops were being absorbed into his palm, instantly replacing the burned skin, muscle, and nerves.
"No matter what's happening, Papa Oliver would never, ever abandon the shop," Jenkins stated calmly. "His attachnt to this place runs deeper than I can even imagine."
Jenkins stood his ground in the rain, letting the deluge soak him through. Sothing squird inside his coat, and Chocolate, his now-drenched cat, wriggled free. The cat leaped to the ground, padded quickly through the puddles, and took shelter under the shop's awning.
The rain had matted its fur, plastering it to its body and making Chocolate look a size smaller. The cat arched its back and shook itself with such speed that it was just a blur in Jenkins's peripheral vision. Though it managed to fling off most of the water, it was still thoroughly soaked.
"And another thing," Jenkins added, his voice low with anger. "I'm furious. You interrupted a very important eting of mine. Do you have any idea how long I've waited for this day?"
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