51- Another Mysterious Encounter

Elmer picked up the bag which had flown past his view a week ago and placed it on his table.

The shuffling footfalls from the horde of the workaholic people who resided in Tooth and Nails made their way into his ears as he took a moment to glance at his window.

Morning was here—still dark, but it was here nonetheless—and so was the next action he was to take. Only, something else had now been added to his plans due to the eventful dream, or rather nightmare, he'd had last night at Spearhead Cemetery.

Luckily, it only disrupted his plans a little. He'd just had to tweak them a bit to accommodate this new circumstance that had propped up, and that was what he had stayed up all night doing—along with one other thing.

He'd made up his mind previously not to deprive himself of his sleep time any longer, but he'd had to put that resolve aside for the night past. There was no way he could have risked falling asleep after his overly realistic experience with the boy in dungaree where he had not even had a chance at fighting back.

Elmer unbuckled the bag, chasing away the darkness that had taken its home inside as he opened it to the flickering glow of the candle light on the table.

"Take on a job as planned, but a more expensive one," Elmer muttered as his eyes weakly perused the bundles inside the rectangular leather before him. "And use the forty percent to replenish the money I took."

He then yawned before fastening it shut.

"Just like that I've switched positions with Lev. I'm now the one being haunted in my sleep." Elmer scratched his hair, ruffling the disheveled mess more, and fell to sit on the edge of the bed Mabel was lying lifelessly upon. "Well, I'm glad it all turned out well yesterday with the exorcism. Would have been very bad if any other result had come of it."

He took off his glasses and slid them onto the table, then buried his face into his palms as he bent over to let his elbows rest on his thighs.

"The route to getting the replacement money was good and all, but how am I even going to return it?" His voice was low and muffled, the former due to his exhaustion and the latter because his mouth was between his hands. "The pendant would have done well if I knew exactly where he would be. Or maybe the alleyway? I could check there." He breathed a sigh. "But I don't want to waste any more time moving aimlessly. I only have a little bit of it left."

Elmer yawned again and pinched his eyes, after which he put back on his glasses and reached for his paperback book where he had translated the words of Col's journal.

As he flipped it open he said, "I hope Ms. Edna has some sort of information on The Warlock's Torch, so I can get whatever job I take on done today, just like with Lev's, and get on with what I have to do." Elmer scoffed soon after those words had left his lips. "Free money, huh? I should have prepared myself for the backlash. What was I expecting?"

The page he had opened on his paperback book was ridden with Enochian symbols and what they meant beneath it.

These were not the words he had translated from Col Fitzroy's journal, these ones had come as a result of what he had stayed up all night doing—besides cooking up his plan for the day—which was copying down the translations he had received from Reynold Dickinson.

He had thought deeply on bailing with the journal and keeping it for himself to use as a bargaining chip with the Church if push comes to shove. But after a few moments of deliberation he'd decided against such atrocious behavior and chose to keep to the agreement he had signed.

That was not who he was.

And also, he was not one bit curious any longer as to what sort of punishment would come from that action, as insinuated in the agreement.

He'd seen enough to know not to test people's patience. And even though the store keeper seemed like someone who took no joy in tampering with the supernatural, Elmer decided not to judge the man by his outer looks. After all, if a boy could haunt his dreams, then what would a grown man do?

Wait…? Elmer's mind suddenly swirled. Should I be returning this money to the boy…? He most likely stole it, if the way things had gone that night were any indicator, so should I be returning it to the thief or to the owner…? Elmer tsked next. What's the use of thinking, Elmer, just give it to the person haunting you unless he'll haunt you more… Becoming an Ascender won't save you from madness…

Elmer sighed and resumed his studies—which he had begun at night—of the Enochian symbols and what they meant.

It was not until the sky had gone from its thick darkness to a brightened blue, and Tooth and Nails went completely silent again, did he shut the book in his hands and rise to his feet.

Elmer had been of the mind to take the bag of money as he was leaving, but since he did not know where exactly to find its recipient yet, he decided against that. He could not be wandering about with such a thing in his hands.

Exposing himself to thieves was not an option. If seven hundred mints made up just a bit of what was in the bag, then he could not even imagine what the whole sum would cost.

Maybe he should count it?

Elmer looked out the window and shook his head. There was no time. He would tell the boy he did not touch his money, after all, he was going to replace what he took.

And in that regard he took the bag and dumped it under the table. Once he got the location of the boy he would come back to pick it up.

He strapped on his waist bag, his mystic artifact carefully placed within it, and stretched a finger beneath Mabel's nose. Confirming she was still of life, as he had been doing for five years, he took the weathered journal of Col Fitzroy, along with the translation paper he had gotten from Reynold Dickinson and exited his room.

Leaving the creaks of the flight of stairs behind him as he arrived at the apartment's front door, he took a moment to glance toward the room to the end of the building.

There was no light spilling from the opening beneath its door, nor was there any trace of sound coming from it.

Any other person would have believed that the room was as empty as its peers on this floor, but Elmer knew better than that. It was the only place inside this apartment, besides his, that accommodated a human being, even though its ambience notioned otherwise.

Seems like she's out already… I doubt that though… She appears to be someone who prefers to remain hidden, I didn't even notice she was in this building before…

It was not like it really mattered much to him, his mind had just suddenly fluttered toward a request he had forgotten, one which had involved a meal, and subsequently the person who had made that request.

He was glad he had completely forgotten about it until now, if he hadn't he would've opted to actually buying it for her despite his lack of the money to spare. And it was also nice that she too had seemingly forgotten, seeing as she did not mention it the second time they'd met.

Elmer huffed out a breath as he turned back to the entrance door to pull it open.

Even though he'd remembered her request now he was sure he would forget it soon enough again. At the end of the day, he had a lot of things to do and his brain could only handle so much processing at once. A meal for his neighbor was not as pressing a matter as the rest of his activities.

He escaped the silence of the apartment soon after those thoughts, and made his way to the thoroughfare of Tooth and Nails street to board a public carriage down to the North-east borough.

…

Highlighting from the carriage brought Elmer before a surprising and confusing scenario. It played with his mind so much that he'd had to halt his steps, crease his brows, and tilt his head in ponder, but still none of those actions made him make sense of it.

He turned around the walkway he stood on, doing well not to interrupt the flow of movement of the neatly dressed people and seafarers passing by, and stared across the street opposite him. There was no mistaking it, he was at the right place.

Then…

Why is this sign board reading 'Elliot's Bookstore'…?

Elmer folded his arms and poked his tongue into his cheek as his gaze went distant for a moment, that was until the jingling sound of the bookstore's bell dragged him back to witness another astonishing scenario.

The bookstore which Reynold Dickinson had said to not have many customers, and to be only frequented by a few boys and girls in search of fictional stories, was of a condition vastly different from that description. And what was even greater was that it did not look to be the same as Elmer had remembered it.

With his brows further nudged downwards, he quickly stuck out his hand, which was free from holding the weathered journal and rolled up translation paper, to prevent the door from closing as its opener had found their way out.

Elmer took himself in.

The store was filled and noisy, its shelves neatly arranged and stacked. The interior was nothing like he had recalled it to be.

Brightened by gas lamps lining the walls, and packed and bustling; a big contrast from the scanty, dusty, and silent ambience he had met on his first visit.

People roamed about it checking out books, and they were not only of the age class of children.

There were children no doubt, a few reading at the corners, but there were ladies and gentlemen as well. And each and every single person was garbed in the attire of those in the middle class of society.

On a normal occasion this was not a bookstore he should be entering, seeing as it was seemingly associated with a class with more money than his, but he could not term this situation as normal.

Elmer pursed his lips. Surely this was not what he was thinking, right?

He heaved in a large amount of air and poured it out soon after in an attempt to calm himself, then he turned to his left and strolled to where he expected the counter to be.

During his walk to the front of the desk, Elmer had been hoping fervently that the storekeeper he would meet would have the same face as he had recalled him to have, the face of the middle-aged man who was Reynold Dickinson. And even though his mind had been split in two with the other whispering a few thoughts on what might be going on, he had still tried to hold on firmly to his hope.

Well, that hope was shattered without remorse now.

The person he was currently standing before was anything but middle-aged, and most of all he looked nothing like Reynold Dickinson.

Elmer's chest tightened for a second at the sight, then he closed his eyes and let out a sigh.

Is this some sort of magic, like how the door of the Black Market is actually a brick wall shuffling open…? Have I mistakenly wandered into another bookstore now, or was it then…?

"Anything you need my help with, sir?" The voice of the young storekeeper, who had been arranging a few books prior to Elmer's arrival before the desk, brought him back to the ambience of the bookstore.

Elmer cleared his throat. He might as well confirm.

"I'm looking for someone by the name Reynold Dickinson. I met him in your store. Do you know where I can find him?"

The storekeeper didn't even take a moment to think before replying, "None by that name I recall, sir. Do you mind if I ask why you're looking for this person though?"

Yes, the storekeeper had to ask. If things ever went awry from Elmer's actions and it was this storekeeper who had given him the location of this person, then the police would question him as well. The young man wanted to make sure he was not entertaining a person with ill intentions for anyone, Elmer understood that.

"Ah, he lent me one of his books the last time. I'm just here to return it to him."

The storekeeper sized Elmer up for a moment, seemingly unbelieving that he could have come in here with enough money to purchase a book. But he pushed away that expression soon after.

"Alright. Well, if you met them in my store then maybe a description would do?"

"Middle-aged. Wears a spectacle. The last time I saw him he was dressed in a woolen coat. Any ideas?"

"Hmmm." The storekeeper shook his head. "None still, sir. A lot of middle-aged men who wear spectacles come into the store, but wearing a woolen coat, I doubt I've seen any."

Elmer's lips tightened softly. That was fairly obvious. Reynold Dickinson, or whoever he was, had not had the looks of someone in a class higher than the lower one.

Elmer sighed.

He was sitting down where you're standing now, as the storekeeper… His thoughts were directed at the current storekeeper before him.

"Thank you." Elmer bowed his head a tad before taking his leave of the store.

Arriving outside, he peered with a little bit of smothering anxiety at the weathered journal he was holding, along with the translation paper he had received from the mysterious Reynold Dickinson.

He felt like he should be feeling more nervous or uncomfortable than he was, or something of the sort. His self two weeks ago would have obviously been feeling that way at this moment, but he could not just get himself to be that way.

Maybe it was because of all he had been experiencing, they seemed to have made him a little bit immune to being hysterical from encountering such scenarios. Now, all he had was confusion and the questions that stemmed from it.

What had happened? Why it had happened? And the most important of all: What exactly was going to happen with the agreement he'd signed?

He had tried to return the journal but he had not found Reynold Dickinson. He was not at fault for things turning out this way, so was he still subject to whatever punishment would come from the failure of keeping to the agreement, even though he had tried to do his part?

Elmer shook his head and took his eyes to gaze at the public carriages trodding down the road.

Again… I've encountered another mysterious individual again… I can't even seem to remember who the last person was, and I've fallen into another… What is up with all these random encounters…? At this rate I wonder how many more I might still come across…