It was deep into the night by the time I left the church, and I moved as quickly as my battered body would allow me, wanting to put as much distance between me and that place as possible. I limped through the streets, every step a painful reminder of my battle with the Tank Beetle, while my mind was lost in a fog of questions about what the hell was actually going on.

  I cursed at myself for never really once questioning what the Pigeon King was or what he actually wanted. Why had he saved my life? Why was I doing these things for him? On the surface, they just seemed like silly little adventures, but I'd almost got killed fighting the Tank Beetle, and I definitely felt like I hadn't been sent to defeat it purely for my own sake. Something strange was going on, but I didn't have a clue what it was or even what I could do about it. I was at the Pigeon King's mercy. I owed him my life afterall.

  I had no idea what he was, or how powerful he was, but he knew everything about me. He'd even been in my home. He knew I had the Codex. He knew I was alone without any family. I had given away everything to the pigeon without ever once questioning what his motives were. I groaned in annoyance and frustration, tightening the straps on the bag and hearing the trinkets jingling in it. Even worse, now I was a paid assassin. The thought made me feel sick, and a petulant part of me wanted to reach into the bag and toss the trinkets into the nearest gutter. But the more rational and reasonable side of me knew that I had rent to pay, I was starving hungry, and there was no more of Marilyn's food at home. These little trinkets the pigeons had got me could be worth some serious money.

  I ground my teeth and tried to walk faster, but my leg just couldn't keep up. My knee throbbed painfully, and my hip was just on the verge of locking up completely. I could hear it clicking with every step, and I was still so tired. I hadn't recovered from the energy expenditure of the Agility potion and now I had the added fatigue of battle with the Tank Beetle. The longer I walked, the more I felt like curling up into a ball and going back to sleep for a week.

  Finally, I relented and knew I had to catch a bus home. I sat at one of the few night bus stops, my bag clutched to my chest, my eyes darting back and forth wearily. Sitting at a bus stop alone was perhaps one of the worst things you could do at night in the Boroughs. It was one of the few places that were lit up, making it almost like a spotlight on a solo traveller, marking them out to be robbed or stabbed, or probably both. I pulled my hood lower over my face, trying to look intimidating, my one working glove still on my fist hidden under my jacket. I wondered if I even had enough energy to summon up a single zap. Fortunately, the night bus trundled into view not too long after I sat down. I flagged it down and then threw a couple of cautious looks over my shoulder to make sure no one was about to jump out of the darkness and snatch my bag. The bus was one of those old-style red ones that still ran on combustion engines. It was ancient. The red paint had faded and flaked, and it looked saggy and tired.

  The doors opened, and I looked at the saggy and equally tired-looking driver. Automatically, I raised my wrist to tap in and that's when I realised I didn't have my WristPod on me. I looked up at the driver and suddenly panicked. He gave me a weary look back. Every night, the driver had been through this song and dance with people who couldn't pay. Just as he opened his mouth to give me his automatic response of "if you can't tap in, you can't ride," but I quickly cut him off.

  "Listen, mister, I'm really sorry. I've left my WristPod at home, but I really need to get on this bus," I said quickly. "Would you want one of these?" I asked, unzipping the bag, reaching in, and pulling out two gold coins. It was only as I did this that I realised these might actually be real gold coins worth 300 times the value of the journey.

  I slid them across through the little window to the driver. He looked down at them, then up at the CCTV cameras, his hand slapping down on the coins and dragging them towards himself. He gave me a surreptitious little nod and closed the doors behind me. I thanked him quickly and walked to the back of the bus.

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  Everyone knew the rule of buses in New London, but especially night buses: if you didn't want any trouble, you stayed downstairs with the civilians. I walked to the back of the bus and sat down. It was practically empty; there were a couple of old ladies and a drunk man who was quietly snoozing. Otherwise, it was totally empty.

  I sat down, my bag still clutched to my chest, exhaustion washing over me. I knew it would be about a 30-minute ride back to the Mulberry Estate, and I was desperate to have a quick sleep at least. That wasn't the smartest thing to do on public transport, but I was too exhausted to care. Before I'd even really made a rational decision, my eyes had drooped shut and I was asleep before the bus had even begun regaining speed.

  I awoke with a panicked start. Only one of my eyes had opened properly. As I stared around the harsh fluorescent interior of the bus, I saw it was completely empty. I looked out of the window and was grateful that it seemed we were still maybe 10 minutes away. The quick nap had done nothing to really revive me. I yawned until my jaw cracked and then rubbed my eyes with both hands so hard they watered. I blinked a few more times and stifled another yawn.

  Was that a cat?

  I opened my eyes properly and saw a little black cat sitting on one of the seats in front of me, staring at me. It looked for all intents and purposes like a normal cat, but there was something about it that drew my attention and not just the fact that it was riding on a bus. Stranger things had happened in New London on public transport. Maybe it was its eyes. Cats' eyes are always very strange and ethereal things, but this one's eyes seemed to have a silvery nature to them. They glittered under the lights of the bus and looked oddly human, as if the cat was appraising me. I looked back at the cat curiously, and it meowed at me.

  "Alex.”

  I jumped in my seat. Did that cat just say my name? I leaned forward, and the cat meowed again, sounding just like a normal meow. Oh man, I really needed to get some sleep. I rubbed my eyes again, and when I opened them, the cat was gone. I stood up and looked around the seats, but there was no sign of it. I shook my head and sighed. Was I starting to lose my mind? Maybe I had a concussion. I remember doing a science lesson about those in school, and hallucinations were a common side effect of a head injury. If I had the money, I should probably go to the medical clinic and at least get checked out. But before that, I needed to sleep, eat, and bathe, and then sleep some more.

  I yawned again as the bus rolled into another stop. I stared out of the window, hardly paying attention, and then I saw the cat again. It was sitting at the bus stop and was staring at me. It meowed at me again.

  "Alex.”

  That damn cat said my name. I was sure of it. I jumped up as the bus doors began to close.

  "Hold on! Wait! Hold on, I need to get off," I shouted at the driver.

  I ran to the doors and just managed to stick my arm through them before they closed. I forced the door open and jumped off the bus while the driver shouted at me, but the cat was gone. I turned around just as the bus pulled away and realized the stupidity of what I'd just done. There wouldn't be another one for another hour. I looked around and was thankful to see that at least I knew where I was. I was close to home. I could probably walk the rest if I needed to, although walking through the Mulberry Estate at this time of night wasn't something I was looking forward to, especially with a bag full of jewelry and coins.

  I sighed and took a deep breath, pulling my hood up as I did. I caught the scent of smoke in the air. It wasn't an uncommon smell around these parts, but it was stronger than I was used to. Then I saw a chimney of black smoke climbing into the sky. I began walking towards it, and the smell grew stronger and stronger.

  Just as I rounded the corner, three figures came flying the other way. They smashed into me, knocking me to the ground, and kept sprinting. I cried out as I hit the floor and looked over my shoulder. All three of them were wearing balaclavas and black hoods, sprinting away without even looking back.

  "Assholes," I muttered under my breath as I pulled myself to my feet.

  The smell of smoke was so thick it was almost choking and a sense of unease grew in my stomach. I walked around the corner and saw the blaze. It was a shop on fire.

  It wasn't just any shop… that was Mark's Florist!