Chapter 455: Chapter 455

"What gives you this confidence, young man? I really despise that face of yours!"

The man threw his head back and laughed, pulling back the right fist he had just thrown, preparing to smash the impulsive young man's head into a pulp for attempting a heroic rescue. But that would be his final act.

A more violent torrent of brilliant yellow flames erupted from Jenkins, then flowed along the skeletal warhorse and onto Salman's left hand.

He scrambled backward, but the fire had already engulfed his entire body. He had thought it was ordinary fire, but no matter how desperately he rolled on the ground, he couldn't extinguish it.

Just before the searing pain caused him to lose consciousness, he used his last ounce of strength to grab Hathaway, who was leaning against the wall. But to his dismay, the unquenchable flames did not harm her.

After a long moment, only a charred, human-shaped silhouette remained on the ground. The flames crawled along the pavement toward the horse's hooves before retreating, returning to Jenkins.

The woman lifted her head in a daze, staring at the man shrouded in fire, astride the skeletal warhorse.

"If I could turn my own head into a skull, it would certainly be more interesting." ʀᴇᴀᴅ ʟᴀᴛᴇsᴛ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀs ᴀᴛ novel-fire.net

"I know you're referring to the Order of Undead Knights from the Church of Death and End... *cough*... *cough*..."

A cloud of verdant dust quickly billowed from Jenkins's palm, slowly and effectively seeping into the red-haired lady's body.

"I'm guessing you don't really know how to ride a horse..."

She pointed this out weakly, as his dismount had been anything but graceful.

"Ha! I can always learn later."

He offered a quiet defense, then added, "The steam train was late, so I just got to Nolan City. I couldn't find a carriage and was planning to try my luck in the next district, but then I passed by this alley and saw the carriage and the dead horse..."

The truth was that he had seen the rapier he sold to Miss Skylark discarded on the street. After activating his Eye of Reality, he had quickly located the two of them in pursuit and overheard parts of their conversation. That was what gave him the idea to use fire to counter the man's physical regeneration.

He pulled back the hand holding Hathaway's left arm. "We made quite a scene here. If you're feeling better, we should leave at once. Oh, and I've already gathered everything from the carriage and tied it to my horse. Of course, I hope you'll have time to visit the coachman's family and give them some money. Otherwise, they might not survive the winter."

The woman answered softly, taking Jenkins's outstretched hand to pull herself to her feet. She wanted to say more, but Jenkins had already clambered back onto the horse in a comical display of awkwardness. His clumsy mount squashed Chocolate, who was nestled against his chest, and the cat was now preparing to express its displeasure through action.

"Hurry! The police should be arriving any moment!"

Jenkins shouted again, and Hathaway finally snapped out of her trance and walked toward the skeletal warhorse. For many years to come, she would never forget that night, galloping through the city on horseback with a man.

Of course, such an act was incredibly dangerous, but thankfully, no one witnessed it.

The train journey had left Jenkins exhausted, so after taking Hathaway to her destination, he was ready to head home and rest.

He didn't, however, forget to arrange another time to meet and discuss the night's events. Although the two adversaries had already moved past introductions and were fighting when he arrived, he couldn't believe that the tall, sturdy Enchanter was just some premeditated murderer without a motive.

For safety's sake, Jenkins escorted Hathaway all the way back to the residence of Earl Hersha.

They stood together on the street corner. The horse, far too conspicuous for the city, had already been dismissed.

"Are you going home now?"

She asked quietly, her head bowed. Shadows obscured most of her face, leaving Jenkins unable to guess what she was thinking.

"Yes, three days and nights of travel have been exhausting. I need a good long sleep to recover. Gods, I'm already missing my carpet... I mean, I'm already missing my bed."

"Thank you for saving me tonight."

If it weren't for the old postbox on the curb and the rusty steam pipes snaking up the wall, Jenkins might have suspected he'd been transported into some second-rate romance novel about knights.

"Let's not with the lines from a second-rate novel, Hathaway. Be more careful from now on!"

He said what was on his mind with complete honesty. "Sweet dreams!"

The woman lifted her head, her heart in turmoil. But just as she finally came to a decision, the man and his cat had already vanished around the corner ahead. The winter night wind was biting, but it couldn't extinguish the fire that had ignited in her heart just moments before.

Had the writer been just a little more perceptive, he might very well have had a wonderful night.

Her tongue pressed against her teeth, causing the final syllable to tremble ever so slightly. It was the first time the red-haired girl had spoken his name with such an intonation.

She stared blankly at the street for a moment, then looked up at the red and blue twin moons overhead.

She whispered his name again, her heart filled with confusion as to which moon she truly adored.

Leaving the sentimental young woman to her thoughts, Jenkins was indeed exhausted. When he got home, he washed up hastily, then patiently wiped Chocolate's four little paws with a towel, grabbed a blanket, and collapsed.

He never slept on the sofa, much preferring his own floor, which meant the sofa became Chocolate's bed.

The cat let out a theatrical yawn, then swished its tail elegantly and slowly settled down on its personal cushion.

It watched the man under the blanket on the carpet through a single squinted eye. Only after hearing the sound of steady breathing did it rise to its feet again.

It let out a soft, kittenish sound, standing on the sofa with its ears pricked to gauge the man's reaction, but he was truly asleep.

The cat bounced around on the sofa for a little while longer, and seeing that Jenkins showed no sign of stirring, it finally hopped down. It padded through the living room and slipped out through the small cat flap at the bottom of the front door.

There had been no rain or snow in Nolan City during the week Jenkins was away, and the ground was perfectly dry. The cat sauntered across the lawn, ducked its head to squeeze under the garden fence, and stood alone on the mostly deserted St. George Avenue.