“Everyone knows who you three are!” Agnes said. “Ernst, Morton, and Glass, of course! I’ve often read about you in Illustrated Phantom Stories.”

More accurately, Agnes read as much as she could in Illustrated Phantom Stories. She could only read a little and thus needed the illustrations to guide her reading. Her grandmother, who cared for her after her mother couldn’t, never bothered to give her an education. She didn’t see the value in it compared to putting her to work in a factory putting replacement parts together with her tiny hands for the gigantic steam beasts that loomed over Blackwall and the London ruins. Even colossal machines like the steam beasts had small parts, and small fingers were useful in putting those parts together, if they were quick enough to avoid being chopped off by the blades of the sizing machine.

“You three were ones that dealt with the Brute of Ipping, and the Lord of Ballard Hall, and the Elf King. You three are…well, you three are famous!”

“At the risk of sounding conceited, I suppose we are.” Martin said.

“Oh, there’s nothing conceited about it! It’s just a fact!”

Agnes suddenly flinched. Her eyes had wandered over to the man, still at the window. He hadn’t moved an inch.

“So that man outside is a ghost?” Agnes asked. “I’ve been attacked by a ghost?”

A pained expression crossed Martin’s face.

Agnes looked at her side. “I’m all healed up now. I understand very little about this teleportation power the ghost put me under, but I understand that I’m not torn to shreds anymore. How did you heal me? Was it magic? There’s not even any blood, now. My dress isn’t even ripped.”

“It wasn’t magic. It was just an application of scientific, manesological principles.”

“I don’t understand--and don’t bother trying to explain it to me, I’ve always been a rather dull girl. But tell me, will it last this time? Am I going to come open again and will you have to put me back together? It was terribly confusing outside, but I remember Dr. Ernst and Dr. Morton healed me but then the wound opened up again, twice I think…did I meet Dr. Ernst before Dr. Morton?”

“That doesn’t matter. What matters is that it will last this time. You’re healed. It took us some time to understand what it was we needed to do to heal you and I’m sorry for that. I’m sorry you had to go through so much pain.”

“It’s alright. I’m alright now. Compared to how I was before you three rescued me, I’m very alright. Ohhhh…” Agnes gave a whimpering sigh. “I thought I was going to die. I lost so much blood, I didn’t know I had all that blood inside me! But maybe he didn’t cut me? I mean, not physically, right? I don’t know much about ghosts, but I’m guessing he gave me a ghost-wound, so you could use your ghost-powers to make it all go away, is that how it worked?”

“The important thing is that you’re safe now. He can’t come in here. All he can do is gape at us.”

“Who is he?” Agnes asked. “Or, I guess, who was he?”

“That little, violent creature outside is best known as the Werewolf of Blackwall.”

“He’s not so little when he’s up close to you. It felt like I ran face-first into a wall when he stumbled into me. All I could see was his black clothes and cloak. It was as if he was the whole night, and it was all against me…but I’ve never heard of the Werewolf of Blackwall.”

“Well, he’s known to the police by that name.”

“Was he some sort of madman?”

“He was an evil, horrible man.”

“I thought I knew all about the lunatics and madmen of Blackwall. You wouldn’t know this, Dr. Glass, being a gentleman of learning and distinction and all, but I live on Chopin Street, and Chopin Street is, well, it’s like a gutter, all the bad things in Blackwall flow into it.” Agnes gave the Werewolf of Blackwall another brief glance. “Shame his ghost didn’t turn out different. I read that they sometimes do.”

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“They sometimes do. Other times, they’re very similar to who they were in life.”

“Oh, Dr. Glass, I feel so strange.” Agnes rubbed her temple. “I think he may have done something to my head. It’s like he fractured my memories and put them back together the wrong way. I keep thinking back to what happened outside and it’s all a messy blur, I just can’t make any of it make sense…”

“Confusion is common after a haunting experience. Try not to think about what happened much. Know that you’re in my olprt radiance right now, and it tells me things about you. It tells me that you’re fine, physically and mentally. You are fine.”

“Olprt is the er, technical name for this moon-colored light, isn’t it?” Agnes asked.

“Yes.”

“Oh.I thought so. I read that somewhere, I think.”

Agnes looked around the building. “Are we the only ones here?” she asked.

“As far as I can tell. The sign outside says Marvin’s, but judging by the conditions here, I don’t think Marvin has been around much lately.” Martin smiled.

Agnes chuckled. She would have chuckled at any sort of humor.

“Just between you and me, Agnes, the door wasn’t unlocked.”

“Ha ha! Oh dear!”

“They say the Ror Raas created us manesologists to negotiate between the laws of men and their laws of spirits. But what that really means is that we sometimes have to break both laws to get things done.”

“Entirely understandable! Oh, Dr. Glass, you don’t need to talk to me about breaking the law. You probably know what I am. It’s not illegal, but that doesn’t mean it's proper, and so much around it is illegal. A girl out on the streets at this hour, surely you know what I am.”

“You are a woman in trouble and in need of help.”

“That’s a very polite way of putting it, and I thank you for putting it that way. Dr. Glass. But you don’t need to worry about breaking the law, not in my company. I break the law even when I don’t intend to. You know, I think I’m breaking the law right now. I’m not supposed to be in a coffeehouse, or I’m not supposed to be at a coffeehouse with my friends. I’m not sure exactly how that one law works. Sometimes I don’t think it really exists and they just make things up to get us into trouble. Do you think the owner would mind if we used their facilities? I would really like to have some tea, or some coffee. Even just some water would be really nice.”

Martin looked behind the counter. “I don’t believe they have anything. At least, not anything that isn’t spoiled.”

“They’ve been closed that long? I guess it can’t be helped, then.” Agnes strummed her fingers against her arm nervously. “Oh, but I wish I had some coffee. My nerves are frayed like bristles.”

“Would you really like some? Would it help you calm down?” Martin asked.

“I think it would, but if there’s no coffee, there’s no coffee. One can’t fix up something from nothing.”

“Not when dealing with me.”

Martin pointed at the empty table and suddenly there was a steaming cup of coffee.

“Oh bless you, Dr. Glass! Where on Earth did that come from?”

“I made it.”

“Yes, but out of what?”

Martin smiled. “From out of scientific, manesological principles.”

Martin knew that if Joseph was here he would tease him about using his skills for “stage tricks,” but he wasn’t here, he was yards away, and he wanted to do something to make Agnes happy.

He knew she had quite a shock coming up, and soon.

“You mean you pulled it out of thin air?” Agnes asked. “Manesologists can do that?”

“Well, I have a few more skills than my colleagues. A few years ago, I made an attempt to enter the Ror Raas and become a thaumaturgist. It didn’t work out, but I learned a few tricks. They’re helpful as a manesologist.”

“And as a coffeehouse owner, if you ever consider that profession!” Agnes sipped her coffee. “Oh, that’s good! That’s the best coffee I ever had!”

“Thank you. But it’s really just hot water compared to what’s out there. My old teachers got me hooked on fine coffee when I went to Baghdad to study Alhazred from primary source documents. There’s nothing quite like Arabic coffee.”

“Nothing like a brush with death to make you appreciate a little hot water, I suppose.”

“It’s not my only trick. Do you remember how I told you to breathe? In through your nose slowly, then out through your mouth? That’s something the Ror Raas taught me.”

“That little thing counts as a magic spell? Or a magic principle, or manesological spell, or however it’s supposed to be properly put?”

“It is indeed a thaumaturgical trick. In fact, it’s the first trick they taught me. The ability to calm oneself is the gate before all other Operations. If you can’t control your emotions, it’s impossible for you to work a single Operation. But if you can control your emotions, then all further mental disciplines are possible. So you see? Now you can do a little magic!”

Agnes smiled bashfully. “You waste such things on me, Dr. Glass.”

“Education is never a waste. One day they’ll teach thaumaturgy in schools, just as they teach math and reading.”

“Schooling is not an option for me. It never was, not even when I was a girl.”

“A lot has changed in the world since you were a girl. Manes are a scientific reality. History has uncovered pre-human civilizations. It’s not so unusual anymore for a woman to be educated. The Ror Raas has several woman thaumaturgists.”

“Really?”

“Yes. Why, they just accepted a young girl named Edith Nesbitt into their ranks, and she shows a considerable deal of promise.”

“The world is changing so fast! Dr. Glass, this may seem like a very foolish question, but…you’ve made me think of all the strangeness out in the world these days, so I feel that I must ask…the Werewolf of Blackwall…he’s not a true werewolf, is he?”

“No.”

“Well, that’s something from mythology that ended up not being true, at least.”

“Oh, but there are werewolves.”

Agnes stared at Martin.

“Come again?”

“They prefer to be called metamorphe, shapeshifters. They’re very secretive, but they’ll be as well-documented as manes in a few years.”

“Lord! It seems like the world’s always more dangerous than you think.”

“Not in the case of the metamorphe. They’re no more dangerous than humans.”

“That is not saying much, unfortunately.” Once again, Agnes glanced at the man outside.

“Please don’t look at him anymore.” Martin said.