On a normal basis, the supernatural wasted no time plunging into effect.

Well, that was not completely true, taking into consideration the delayed response he’d encountered during his process of ascent into the Lower Echelon.

Although, that was a different case, one which had been far tasking than his current. So the fact that a few seconds had passed and nothing out of the ordinary was yet to occur made Elmer press his lips tightly together.

It was either he’d failed, or someone somewhere had received the message instead of him. The problem now was which he should think it to be.

Elmer folded his arms after another few seconds of waiting, then tilted his head to the side while focusing his gaze piercingly at the piece of paper before him.

There’s no way for me to even confirm which of those possibilities might have happened… Tch… This is somewhat annoying, and most of all, I can’t have myself delaying this any longer…

Instinctively, his eyes shifted from the prayer he had written down toward the quenched cigarette stick lying a messed wrinkle in the metallic ashtray to the side of the table.

He would have loved to take another smoke to clear his mind and work its magic by bringing him some new ideas he could make use of, but that was impossible through the cigarette he was currently gazing at. And he was not in the mood to light up one more.

Sighing exasperatingly, Elmer dipped his left fingers beneath the rims of his glasses and rubbed his eyes. After which he plodded forward, his forehead to the table, and shut his eyelids, closing off his line of sight.

Darkness helped with thinking; or so he hoped. While for the quiet that always seemed to boost the brain’s ability to bring up and process information, he knew he could not yearn for.

Unlike Tooth and Nails street, High street was a place filled with a somewhat high frequency of noise. Sounds of footfalls never ceased, bringing about a rowdy ambience tagged along by utter liveliness. And that all came to be even though neither carriages nor steam cars were rampant here—since the people of the working class preferred to trek to the thoroughfare as some form of exercise before taking any transportation.

Elmer was not complaining though, he’d already grown used to the noise here despite the fact that he’d lived in quietness all his life—taking into consideration Meadbray and Tooth and Nails street. Therefore, it did little to put his thought process behind bars.

And that was confirmed true as he suddenly sprang up, his forehead sharply lifted away from the table, as an idea birthed in his brain with the same manner of speed as a lantern being lighted.

“That… I should try that…”

Elmer’s full brows were raised dramatically, and his eyes bulged beneath his glasses in accordance as though they wanted to pop out of their sockets. His expression was one which would make any person extremely curious as to what exactly he’d stumbled upon through his thinking, no matter how high their intellect was.

Taking another piece of paper from his drawer, Elmer rewrote the same prayer he’d created to receive his jobs, only this time it was in symbols that had nothing to do with the general language of men.

His prayers had been written anew in Enochian.

After moving into the Red-Brick District, Elmer had helped himself with learning the Enochian language to the fullest degree; well, as much as he could with the translation paper he’d received from binding himself to a contract with a mysterious man—a contract he’d never once forgotten.

Of course he had started down that path of studying the Enochian language while he had been at Tooth and Nails street, but he had not really delved deeply into it then. And in all honesty, he still shared that same sentiment at this moment.

Even after countless trials to seek further knowledge on the language, he had found it almost impossible to grasp anything pertaining to it. The only relevant information he’d gotten from the libraries and bookstores he had visited was that it was a special course studied at the Church’s college, hence bringing him to the conclusion that only the Church and licensed Ascenders had any knowledge on it.

And that had also caused him to see how much of a trading gem Col Bylund’s journal would be if he ever came into contact with the Church, and also how much of a mystery the man Reynold Dickinson was.

But that was not all. He had also concluded that if the language was really being kept a secret to anyone who was not an Ascender, then it meant that the language held some sort of special powers for some reason. Subsequently, that had explained the symbols he’d seen on his revolver and all the supernatural items he’d come across.

He’d even gone ahead to translate the words on the only two mystical items he had left, his revolver and divination pendant, bringing upon his sight the words:

“Grant this item your power, oh Creator of all. May thy will be done amongst men as it is done in the Heavens.”

Elmer had felt the prayer to be too abstract for the varying powers his revolver and divination pendant had. But since he was no longer a newbie in the world of the supernatural, he’d helped himself understand that the prayer was not the source of their powers, rather the key that kickstarted it into motion. And if he took that as the case, then just like charms, artifacts also had a process of creation that involved which exact power they were subjected to.

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It was also because he had come up with all these explanations beforehand did he now find himself trying out his newly formulated prayer in the language he believed to be imbued with spirituality.

Something bothered him though.

If, as he thought, his prayer did not work because the language of man lacked spirituality, then how come other prayers worked?

There was something deeper about creating prayers, Elmer believed. Something he needed to find out if he was to further enhance his arsenal.

“Well, this will prove if my deduction is correct.”

Elmer sighed, dropped his ball pen, and assumed his praying stance once again. But just as he opened his mouth to utter his prayer, he suddenly realized that his plan had met another roadblock.

How in the world was he to pronounce the words?!

In an instant his face scrunched while a deep groan of frustration escaped his lips, the hair he had neatly shaped finding itself completely disheveled between his fingers.

“This is too much!” Elmer jumped to his feet as a wave of exasperation took over his being. He loosened the tie he had knotted, as though it was choking him, and breathed out a heavy exhale. “Surely there has to be a way.”

He paced about his room for a minute, the flickering fire from the diamond set gray candles, and the small ray of light pouring in from the tiny gap he’d left between the sill of his window and the curtain spread over it, partaking in brightening his scenery.

All of a sudden, through his deep musing, he had an idea.

Halting his rotary steps, Elmer furrowed his brows and tilted his head to the side as he stared through the coat stand beside his room’s door in a manner that made it seem as though it was invisible.

“This…” he mumbled, his blinks turned owlish. “If this language is really taught in the Church’s college, then there must be a way for me to learn it illegally. Hmm… Yes. That’s correct. As there are legal ways to proceed with something, so are there illegal ways. I just need to find it. Tch… But I guess I’ll have to keep receiving jobs from the bushes around dust pits for now. Well, the faster I learn how to pronounce Enochian, the faster I can get this process done with.”

He took a glance over his shoulder at his reading desk, along with the variety of items on it, and in that instance, he squeezed one side of his face and shook his head sharply.

“No. Scratch that. I don’t have to learn Enochian at this moment. If I can just get someone to teach me how to pronounce these words, then I can find a way to kick my new job reception method into effect. After that I can slowly take my time learning the pronunciation. Yes. That’s far better. I just hope everything I’ve deduced is correct. I really hope.”

Having come to a decision, Elmer put off the gray blessed candles, packed them up, and threw them into the waste bin, along with the ashes originated from his smoking exploits and the cigarette that had expended them.

He really didn’t enjoy wasting supernatural items, as they were quite expensive to purchase, but he knew better than to reuse expendable ones twice. At least that was the policy he’d given himself in order to prevent anything unforeseen from happening.

Reopening the curtains and giving his room all the light of day was what he did next. After which he returned his smoking ashtray into his desk’s left drawer, along with the paper bearing the original words of his prayer.

Elmer opened his desk’s left drawer next—though only halfway—bringing visibility to his revolver, divination pendant, and an adhesive tape. He took them all out, but only entertained the bronze object, wrapping his wrist with it before hiding it beneath his sleeve.

Leaving the rest of the items he’d brought out on the desk, he fixed his silver pocket watch to his vest then took to his cupboard.

There he brought out a workman’s jacket and a woolen scarf—the former of the same color of brown as his vest and trousers, while the latter of the color of white.

He evened out the wrinkles on his jacket with a brush and put it on, along with his black leather gloves, socks, and shoes. After which he redid both his tie’s knot and his hair’s elegant side parting, using the round mirror of his vanity table, then wrapped his scarf around his neck. Coming next was using his most loved lavender water cologne, which he’d purchased from Murray’s cosmetics store—the place he’d gotten all his skincare products.

Before he returned to his desk, he opened the top drawer of the three to the left of the vanity table, and as well the rectangular wooden box kept within it, and took from their compartments the brown gruff mustache and light stubble that came together to form his day’s disguise.

As soon as he’d fixed his postiche using the brown adhesive tape he’d now returned back to its drawer, Elmer made sure that his revolver’s safety was on before he dipped it into his jacket’s left pocket; and following that up was the paper of his prayer written in Enochian now folded and placed within his trousers right pocket.

His route for the day was readied, the previous one he’d had in mind already tweaked to favor his current circumstance.

After checking Mabel’s breathing and giving her a kiss on her forehead, Elmer shut the window, took his flat cap from his coat stand, wore it, and exited his bed chambers.

In the mildly flourished living room was a small paper, with a list of items written on it, placed on top of the coffee table surrounded by three small black cushions of somewhat cheap works.

Due to the constant sounds of cutleries clattering, Elmer confirmed that Mary was in the kitchen doing the dishes. And as such, he picked up the paper and put it into his jacket’s right pocket where the hundred mints he’d left in there the day past was cradled—two mints out of it already converted to changes of pence and shillings for easier payment for smaller priced things.

Set to leave, Elmer took a moment to re-jog Mary’s memory as he knew she was a tad too forgetful at times, hence why she always wanted to do everything at once.

“I’ll be having my leave now. Take care of my guest once he arrives,” he voiced, and instantly the clattering of cutleries ceased.

Seconds later Mary Thatcher appeared behind the simple partition that separated the living room from the dining room, her hands filled with foam.

She cleared her throat, and through a visible hesitation forced herself to ask, “Could you please repeat your words, Master? I’m afraid I… I might have missed it.”

Elmer pushed forth a smile so as to relax her never ending tenseness.

“I said take care of my guest once he arrives.”

“Ah…!” Mary’s eyes widened. “Yes. I’ll get to doing that now!”

Elmer’s lips and eyes twitched.

“Mary,” he called. “He’s not yet here.”