Monday’s morning came and the world was utterly silent to Elmer.

He knew he had run out of time to delay his decision any further now. He’d had two weeks—well less, if the three days before that incident had occurred were removed—and still he had been unable to think it through.

Elmer leaned backward, while shirtless, on the cold metal frame of the bed bunk, his hair still dampened due to his lackluster toweling as he kept his eyes—which were taking no help from the glasses laid on his lap—fixated on the opened bag beneath the window, the beats of his heart reverberating through his ears.

If someone walked up to him at this moment and asked him what had happened on that night, he would be unable to say a word. He could not remember—rather, he could not explain how exactly it had happened. His mind had clouded back then at the sight of the stacks of money arranged within the leather bag, and the next thing he had known was that he was back at the apartment in Tooth and Nails.

He had quickly boarded a carriage, true, but it had been more of a reflex than knowing why exactly he had acted in such a way. And even now, the reason was still unbeknownst to him.

Following that action—or reflex, as he had thought it to be—he had been stuck within the walls of room six till today—apart from when he had had no other possible course of action but to go out to get food or water—and today would have been no different if only he had a choice.

He had to get up and leave soon—he had to make up his mind soon.

“What should I do, Mabel?” Elmer dropped his head on his shoulder, glancing over it and at Mabel who was watching the ceiling with opened, sunken brown eyes devoid of light.

He looked at his little sister’s blurred figure for a while, and knowing fully well that no reply would come from her, he turned back to the bag across from him.

His lips pressed together in a slight grimace as he muttered, “Should I, or should I not?”

Ever since the bag had slowed down mid-flight before his eyes, his thoughts had taken a u-turn from his search for Patsy to his conflict about using the money that was within that bag for his purposes. And even though he had had just a little less than fourteen days to do all that thinking, he was still right where he had started.

Elmer shook his head and put on his glasses, giving his blurry eyes focus, then he pulled in a deep breath and slowly released it before pushing himself up to his feet.

It’s the only way… He spoke to himself deep within as he walked up to the bag and towered solidly above it, staring it down with narrow eyes strengthened by determination, while tacking on his demeanor with an outward thrust of his bare chest. It was almost as though he wanted to seem intimidating to the bag.

But soon after, he gave up on the useless posture he had taken and fell to a squat with a sigh.

Elmer dipped his hand into the bag and took ahold of a bundle, his fingers tensing almost immediately with a single pound of his heart as a result of the tender and subtle, smooth feel of paper that had come to nestle in them.

He paused and closed his eyes, his body falling back into reluctance as his mind wavered.

If he decided not to take this money, then how exactly was he going to make the amount he needed?

He was to meet with Hanky today—in truth, he was to be there at this present moment. Early morning was long past already. But still he was here, tugging with his choices, one he’d already noticed that he had none of.

He had tried looking for Patsy, but that didn’t work. Who else besides her did he know that could help him earn the amount he sought? Eli Atkinson was not someone he could just randomly meet and ask for a job. The young doctor had said he would be the one to contact if he ever needed anything, so that was as well out of it. There was no other way.

Elmer pried his eyes open, and as though the bundle he held suddenly grew to weigh greater than a grating stone, he forcefully pulled his hand out of the bag, bringing into the view of his eyes green notes, with the number ten visibly written at their top left, piled upon each other and bound together by a cash strap with the words ‘City Bank of Ur’ in bold.

His chest stiffened and relaxed in a flash. There was no going back now.

Elmer counted the bundle and confirmed that it contained a hundred mint notes.

With pacing breaths, he hurriedly scooped out six more and placed them before the first bundle he had brought out, then counted each until he was sure they all summed up to seven hundred.

He sighed after, then stood up when he decided that he was done giving the bundles of money before him a piercing look.

His shirt, suspenders, and waist bag, Elmer put them all on, and ended his preparation by filling his bag with the seven hundred-bundles of money.

There was no space left in his bag for his revolver and gloves, so he went ahead to put them down on the table gently. And that was when his eyes fell upon the journal filled with Enochian symbols, the translation paper he had gotten from Dickinson, and as well the paperback book he had bought for his work in progress.

Only three pages had been completed still—all he had yet to read—and he had examined the journal to have had a bit of over twenty pages, where most of the symbols on the ending pages had already faded, or the pages themselves had gone missing.

He had been unable to put his full concentration on the translation ever since he’d brought the flying bag of money into his home, but he would have to push himself now once he returned from his activities today. He had to discard whatever weaknesses he had and force himself to do whatever was necessary, which fully translating and reading this journal was one of. That was the only way he could help Mabel.

Elmer looked at his sister, then leaned over and stuck a finger beneath her nose, warm air breathing onto them in response.

At that, he nodded his head and walked out of the room, his waist being dragged down from the weight of what it was carrying.

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…

Elmer had already known he would be late, but he had not expected it to be too much of a deal. The last time he had come, the bakery had been empty, although, now, it was anything but that.

The racket deafened him, and the small width of the bakery was not helping with the constant shoves of the customers perambulating the shop.

He could glimpse Hanky filling paper bags with bread and pastries, and handing them out to customers from behind the counter, but the man could not seem to get a sight of him. For someone who didn’t like ruckus, he sure seemed to be enjoying this one.

Elmer thought to shout, but what sort of uncivilized person would do such? Definitely not him. Therefore, he kept shuffling in the crowd as he tried to approach the counter while sneaking through the spaces left from those who had gotten their orders and made their way out, before the new customers who wandered in would fill it up.

It genuinely surprised him how Hanky had this many customers, but it also rubbed against his curiosity as to why he was sticking his hands in illegal jobs if he was already somewhat well off.

But Elmer made it of little concern to himself. There was no reason for him to dig into the reasons of why someone else lived the way they did—a lesson he had learnt the hard way.

Suddenly, through his constant squabbles with pushes, he felt a tiny hand tug at his. Looking down after halting his struggles, he saw a familiar face that had been double the last time he had been present here, and this time not smeared with the white of flour.

He exhaled, knowing what one half of the twins coming up to him entailed.

“Hanky says to come with me,” the boy said, so gently that Elmer was sure this one with him was the less outspoken of the twins.

Elmer nodded and followed the boy’s lead as they circled about the throng, moving through the edge of the crowded shop and into the door of mahogany beside the counter.

Elmer had snuck a peek at Hanky before entering, but the man had not spared him a glance. Maybe because he was busy—but wasn’t he the one who was to give him what he had come for?

The door shut, and Elmer found himself in a baking kitchen, his body immediately covered in a perfectly balanced warmth—due to the only window in the room being halfway opened—while his nose was filled with the sweet combined aroma of freshly baked bread, buttered flour, and dough.

On the walls at the last corner of the room hung pots and sifters, and various other tools used for baking, while the single wooden shelf erected opposite the window bore jars of different spices.

Leaning against a wash table beside a baking oven of wrought iron was a young woman who had long black hair and looked to be in her late twenties, dressed in a casual gown of brown with an apron wrapped around her waist. She smiled when she saw him and greeted with a nod of her head. Elmer did the same. He suspected that she was the twins' mother.

While before the flour-dusted wooden countertop—which was occupied with a few mixing bowls—was the other half of the twins who was steadily flattening a dough with a rolling pin. Well, that was until…

“Ned, no! I’m the one meant to flatten the dough!” the half of the twin that had led Elmer into the baking room suddenly screamed, and it stunned him.

The tone of the boy’s voice had changed significantly, and Elmer found himself wondering how. Wasn’t he the less outspoken one?

“But, Ted, Mother said I could,” the other twin mentioned as he put a stop to what he was doing, his hands gently caressing the rolling pin.

Ted hurriedly crossed over from where Elmer stood at the door and toward his twin, then he snatched the rolling pin. “Go and do something else.” He pointed, and Ned did little to fight back before shuffling away from his brother’s presence and to his mother’s, scarcely dejected.

Elmer could not hide the surprise plastered about his face. Were the twins not only indistinguishable in face but in personality as well, or was it just this boy Ted?

“I have told you to stop doing that to your brother, Ted,” the woman said as she wrapped her arms around Ned’s neck gently.

“I didn’t do nothing,” Ted shot back, then pointed at Elmer. “I wanted to flatten the dough and you said I would after I brought him. I did as you said, so let me do what you promised me.” He had a momentary pout before continuing his brother’s work of using the rolling pin on the dough.

Their mother sighed then rubbed her hands on Ned’s chest as she said, “Go and mix the flour for the next one.” Ned nodded and went ahead to do as she had told him. “Pardon me,” she voiced to Elmer. “Just give me a minute.” Elmer nodded, and she pushed the corners of her lips up slightly before putting on the mittens that were on the washing table and pulling open the oven’s door.

As she took out a tray lined up with freshly baked breads, Elmer wondered if she was the one who would provide him with the form. It seemed more like it, seeing as Hanky was not here, and he probably wasn’t coming.

It took more than a minute, but well less than two, before the woman took off her mittens and approached him with a brown envelope.

“Here,” she said. “You can check it.”

And Elmer did.

He pulled open the envelope and brought out the form, confirming that at the bottom of it there was a red, circular seal with irregular edges and the design of a clock with one hand pointing upward. He did not know what exactly the Church’s seal looked like, but he had no choice than to believe that this was it, and since it matched the inscribed emblem at the head of the form, it gave him a little assurance.

He also had a bit of wonder for what exactly the process used to fabricate the seal was? Had he been scammed, seeing as the emblem atop the form was fairly similar to the seal below? Maybe he could have just bought a cheap inkwell of red ink and replicate the seal himself, or was there something different done that differentiated a fake and original seal?

“Good?” the woman asked, and Elmer had no option but to nod in agreement.

Then he brought out the bundles of money from his bag and handed it over to her with a deep exhale. The woman smiled and made sure to count it all first before finally giving Elmer the go-ahead to leave with a bob of her head.

But as he turned to do just that, she mentioned in a rather flat tone, “You never came here.”

And Elmer swirled back to see her arranging the money in a paper bag while her twins looked at him strangely as though they, as well, were warning him to keep his mouth shut.

The walls of the room suddenly filled his body with some sort of uneasy pressure that his brows knitted, and no one had to tell him before he quickly hurried away from there.

This time, as he shut the door of mahogany behind him, he met Hanky’s gaze; narrow, they were, and filled with warning as well. Hanky’s worsened the pressure the woman and the twins had put on him, and Elmer made sure he understood them clearly.

They were telling him that if the Church ever caught him he should make sure not to give them out.

That was not a problem. His lips were going to be shut even if they didn’t drill him with weird gazes. And he would never let the Church get a hold of him.

…

Elmer stepped down from the public carriage as it brought him to his next stop.

He glanced across the walkway and found the building of The Glowing Eye bureau still standing, and the path before it as well still empty.

He hoped everything would go well once he stepped into the building—he wished it would—there was only a little over two weeks left for him before the illusionary potion wore out.

Elmer exhaled and tugged at his suspenders, but just as he was about to cross the road, the familiar face of a man dressed in a white shirt with a brown vest and pants came wobbling out of the bureau’s door, and the sight rooted Elmer to the spot as well as furrowed his brows.

His mind whirled in confusion for a little over a second before he muttered under his breath, “Lev?”