Part 7

 I miss half of her story while I contemplate the note I still hold.  I start listening again when she brings up Cyrus trying to stab her in the subway a few weeks ago.

"That was the last day in my apartment.  I had been out of work for three months by then, maxed out my credit cards, pulled in all of the favors I could.  It didn't help."

I interrupt her, "So you're saying Cyrus attacked you on your first day on the streets?  How'd he know?"

"I don't know."  She says.  "Is it important?"

"I'm not sure."  I open the note again.  Read the four words written on it.

She looks at me, checks her pocket.

“It fell out when you got your tissue,” I tell her.

Her mouth forms a silent ‘oh.’  Then, “What's it say?"  She asks and I hand her the note.  She takes it, her fingers brushing mine.  She starts at the contact, a sharp intake of breath, before looking at the note.
 
Bring her to me.

"Who's it from?"  She asks, her lips moving as she rereads the note.

“My best guess?  Old Jenny.”  I open my mouth to say something else, but a train passing overhead drowns out any conversation.  She shivers, whether from the damp, subterranean air, or out of fear, I can't tell.  I pull out a metal barrel hidden beneath a large cardboard box and set it in the middle of the room.  I throw the box, and a few others that do not look too moist, into it and use the Sphere to light it.

She moves closer to the snapping and crackling, bringing a crate with her to sit on.   “How does she know about…”  Her mouth moves a few times the words stopping themselves before they come out.  She finally ended up with “Me?”

“That’s why I think it’s her.”  I say, trying to plan my moves out.

“I, I don’t understand.”

“I’m sure you don’t.”  I try not to be condescending, unsuccessfully.

“Now look here,”  she shouts, standing up from her crate.  The flames cast shifting shadows on her face.  “I did not choose any of this, and you’re the one that grabbed me!  How do I know you’re not the…”  More tears and sobbing.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that.  Jenny has a touch-“ I pause, trying to find the right phrase, “of the sight.”  I fish around in my cart and pull out an almost clean handkerchief, hand it to her.

She blows her nose in it, wipes the tears from her eyes.  “You mean she can see the future?”

“We think so, I mean she predicts things.  Like that.”  I point at the note she still holds.

“So are you going to?”  She asks, taking a seat again and reading the card.

“Not just yet.  I have a few things to attend to first.  Plus, you look like you could use some rest.”

“You mean sleep here?”  She looks around.

“Not quite,” I say, pulling the necklace that hangs around my neck out of my shirt.  “Follow me.”  I grab the Sigil Sphere and walk towards the pile of boxes that hides the opening to this room.  We emerge in an abandoned subway station.  I can hear her heavy breathing behind me as she follows.

As we step away from the open doorway we came through, the light from the fire fades, so I call upon the Sphere once more, holding it at shoulders height.  It glows feint blue, illuminating our surroundings.  Broken tiles, one of which I kick and listen as it skitters across the floor.

We walk along the platform, I count the doors as I pass them.  Two broken bathrooms, the porcelain inside destroyed, and an office of some kind.  It is the fourth door that I want.  The original wood is rotten through and covered by the boards I have used to patch it.  The key slides in easily.   It opens with a slight creak and I slip inside.  The heavy breathing follows.  “You can sleep in here,” I tell her as I flip a switch.  A dozen strands of Christmas lights, green, red and white, blink on, revealing a small room, maybe ten feet to a side.  A mattress occupied one corner, an old dresser with a cracked mirror beside it.  A shelf lines the closest wall, covered in books.

“But, the lights, how?”

“I wasn’t always homeless.”  I finger one of the books on the bookshelf, Electrical Wiring Commercial 11th Edition.  “I’m the only one with a key.  You get some sleep.  You can lock the door behind me.  I’ll check on you in a few hours.”

“Here?”  She asks, looking at the musty mattress.

“If you have someplace else to be, by all means.”  I make a grand sweep of my arms towards the door.

“Uh, n-no.  I’ll stay.”

I move past her, out onto the platform.

“Charlie, wait.”  She calls out after me.

I turn, face her.

She stands, backlit by the multicolor lights.  “Can I- Can I have the key, in case something happens to you?“

I eye her suspiciously,  “I’d rather…”  The pleading look in her eyes stops me.  I take the key from my neck again and hand it to her.

“Thanks.”  She shuts the door and I hear the lock click as I make my way back to my cart.  There was still a lot to do.