Part 8

My cart was where I left it so I took a moment to compose myself before I used the Sphere to bring me back to the soup kitchen.  Rush still sat where we had left him, calmly finishing the food I had left behind.  “Jenny wants to see her.”  I told him as I approached.  “I think,” I added for good measure.

“Bah!  Witch is useless.  Where is Dairy Mary?” he asks, sopping up the last of the mashed potatoes on my plate with a crust of bread.

I study him carefully.  “She’s safe,” is all I give him.  Watching him eat makes my stomach growl so I look out the window to distract myself.  The sky is dark and full of clouds.  The rumble of subway cars has been replaced by thunder. 

“What happened after we left?” I ask him.

“Cyrus walks in, sees you leave, and leaves himself.  You causes quite a stir leaving like that you know.”

I dismissively wave the comment away and he laughs.  I cast my eyes around the room.  There are a few faces I recognize, even more I don’t.  “I have a request,” I say, loud enough for everyone to hear.  I wait long enough for the buzzing conversations to quiet down.  “I need someone to ask a question of Old Jenny for me.”

“Do it yourself,” someone calls out as I sit in the same chair I had occupied not long before.  I wait, ignoring the look, one full of spite for the witch and questions for me, that Rush gives me.  It does not take long before a small, thin man, barely a man at that, makes his way to my table.

“I’ll d-d-do it,” he stammers.

“And who are you?”  The Russian asks.

“M-my name is Mark,” he responds.  This causes the Russian to laugh.

“But Mark, you are meek as mouse!  Do you really think you can talk to witch?”  He lets out a hearty laugh.  "I shall call you Mouse!"

The young man manages a half smile before turning to me. “I’ll do it.”  He says again.  “I can go see Jenny, what is it you need?”

I look him over, his nose twitches.  I laugh.  “Mouse it is,” I proclaim loud enough for the tables around us to hear.  I lower my voice.  “Someone left me a message on the board.  I need to know if it was from her or not.”

“It was,” he replies.

Rush grabs ahold of Mouse, “How do you know?”  The Russian growls.

“I put it there,” Mouse squeaks.

The Russian glances at me and I nod.  He lets go and Mouse stands there cowering. 

“I-is th-there anything else?” he asks.

I reach into my pocket and pull out a dollar bill, hand it to the man.  “No.”  He takes it and snakes his way through the tables, leaving the building .

The Russian glares at me, “You are too generous.”

I laugh at this, “But I am royalty!”  This elicits a chuckle from him as well.

“So what is plan?”  He asks.

His tone causes me to pause.  What if I was right, what if Cyrus made a deal.  I decide on caution.  “I don’t know yet.”

“Then what of witch?”  He asks, flashing a brown smile.

“Again, I don’t know.”  I tell him and stand up.  “I am sorry old friend, but I have other business to
attend to now.

“Farewell friend,” he waves.

I leave the kitchen and the wind bites through the heavy canvas coat that I wear.  Lightning flashes overhead, illuminating the street long enough for me to tell it was empty.  A peal of thunder sets off a car alarm a few blocks away.  The rain has yet to start as I turn my collar up.  Better be safe than sorry.  I walk a block east and turn around at the sound of a voice calling my name.

“Um, excuse me?”  Mouse says.

I look him over.  He really is thin.  “How old are you kid?”  I ask.

“Almost eighteen,” he says.

“You’re an idiot,” I snap back at him.

“W-what?”

“Where’re your parents?”

“Maine.”

“Why are you here Mark?”  I decide to switch tactics, use his real name to try and put him at ease.

“I didn’t want to work in the mill.”

“So you came here looking for an opportunity.  And you think this,”  I hold my arms out, “is better than working in the mill?”  I bite, my tone harsh again.  “Go home.”

He scowls.

“Mark, I’ve been on the streets for almost half my life.  If I had somewhere to go, I would.”

“But…”

“But nothing.  Did they beat you?”

“Who?  Oh.  No.”

“Then go home!”  I growl.

He cowers, reaches into his pocket.  “She told me you would come back, and that I should give you this.”

I take the card from his outstretched hand, look at it.  A wooden wagon wheel is inscribed upon the card, the letters T, A, R, and O are drawn at the compass points, and the words Wheel of Fortune are embossed in a banner across its bottom.  “What’s this mean?” I ask, turning the tarot card over in my hand, revealing nothing but black upon its back. 

“She said you would have to come to her to find out.”

“Why didn’t you give me this earlier?”

“I was afraid of the other guy…”

I smirk.  “Ok, I don’t want to see you around here again.  Get on a bus tomorrow and go home, or as soon as you can afford one.”  To emphasize the point, I hand him another dollar.  “Now get.”

He disappears into the shadows, leaving me contemplating the card in my hand.