"I checked the newspaper—the one on the coffee table just now," Cohen said. "Five Muggles have gone missing, and someone spotted a shadowy black monster."
"Don't tell me you came out here to look for that thing…" Edward said warily. "Honestly, it sounds more like a Muggle serial killer to me. All the missing people seem to be staff from the town's church. Maybe it's some anti-religion nutjob."
"If it's just a Muggle, I'll be fine wandering around on my own," Cohen replied, trying to shoo Edward away.
"Muggles have guns," Edward shot back, unconvinced. "No way. If I left you out here alone, Martha would chew me out till I'm a bloody mess."
"So, what, we're stuck eating charcoal for dinner tonight?" Cohen quipped. "You'd better head back and save our stomachs—"
Seeing Edward still wouldn't budge, Cohen scanned their surroundings for something to put him at ease.
They'd reached what looked like a low-budget school, though it seemed more like an old house someone had patched up into a makeshift building.
"Look, there are Muggle kids over there," Cohen said, pointing toward the open gate of the "school."
"Hmm… huh?" Edward grunted, not exactly sold.
"Let me hang out with some kids my age. Just pick me up when it's time for dinner," Cohen said, laying out his case pretty reasonably.
"What, you got a split personality now?" Edward wasn't buying that Cohen would "calmly play with Muggle kids his age."
"It's better than being cooped up at home," Cohen pressed. "Come on, go stop Martha from torching our food. I won't get into trouble. If some killer shows up, I'll even spare their life—good enough? Now go, bye!"
And with that, Cohen managed to shoo Edward off. Sure, Cohen might run into danger, but Edward knew deep down it wasn't likely—Cohen could handle himself.
After watching Edward leave, Cohen didn't even glance at the "temporary care school" with a bunch of teens inside. Instead, he headed straight for Coombe Fort's central square. There was a park nearby, but with all the recent disappearances, hardly anyone dared to come close.
Cohen spotted Earl perched on a beech tree at the park's edge.
But right now, Cohen wasn't itching to check in with Earl about his findings. His focus was on the "Mr. Frondo" squirming in his arms.
Frondo had been restless ever since Edward left, and the moment Cohen reached the deserted central park, it leaped right out of his grip.
It landed lightly beside the cobblestone path, then hopped onto a bench nearby.
"What *are* you?" Cohen asked, curious. The thing didnandroidx
't run off—instead, it turned around and kept staring at him.
"I'm a cat," Mr. Frondo replied in a crisp London accent, locking eyes with Cohen as if trying to figure out what *he* was. "Sorry, I don't think I need to explain much about myself. I've been a cat at Martha's place for twelve years—everything's been perfectly normal and reasonable. What needs explaining is *you*—a weird creature with barely any human parts to speak of, and one who's got some shady ideas about me. Of course, if you're planning to mess with a cat, I get it. I've met plenty of kids with a knack for tormenting cats. They'd kill me a dozen times over, get bored, and let me go. But fair warning—if you try to hurt Martha, I'll throw myself at you in a kamikaze fit until you're worn out…"
"…"
Confirmed: total chatterbox.
Cohen had zero interest in engaging. After Earl's example, a talking cat didn't even faze him anymore.
"Frondo?" Earl called, swooping down from the beech tree branch toward Cohen. "I could hear your nonstop yapping from a mile away…"
"Huh?"
"You two know each other?" Cohen asked, glancing between Earl and the cat.
"We do indeed," Mr. Frondo said in a gentlemanly tone. "We first met at a foggy train station. Oh, back then we were pets of little wizards. We hit it off right away and became pals at school—"
"Hit it off, my tail feathers. I swore I'd rip that blabbering mouth of yours to shreds," Earl snapped, turning to Cohen. "If you want any peace in your life, shut its trap *now* and chuck it in the lake. I saw a river valley south of here…"
"I thought our friendship was rock-solid…" Frondo said mournfully. "Have you forgotten I'm a poor, cursed kitty? Throwing me in water won't free me—I've tried all sorts of things: cremation, burial, drowning… But afterward, I figured breaking this curse might not be about death. Maybe it's like a fairy tale—I need true love, a princess's kiss. Guess what I did twenty years ago? I met this amazing girl in London, and then—"
"So, just shutting its mouth works, right?" Cohen asked Earl, deadpan. "I don't think finding the Chimera needs help from some dumb cat that moved in with my grandma twelve years ago."
"Use cement," Earl suggested, covering his ears as Frondo launched into his third love story. "It's sturdier. Buys you a quiet night."
"Chimera?" Frondo paused mid-ramble. "You're looking for a Chimera? I actually know a ton about that. You know, as a cat who's traveled all over Europe, I've seen my fair share of creatures. Like this fascinating hybrid I met in this town—it's got three names, but I like calling it Bellerophon. I picked that from Greek mythology—Bellerophon slew the Chimera. I think the name—"
"Names don't matter."
Cohen cut off Frondo's endless spiel. He'd hoped enduring it might yield something useful, but this chatterbox cat could ramble forever about nothing.
"Do you know it? Where is it now? Are the disappearances its doing?"
"Of course I know it—it's my best friend!" Frondo chirped. "Well, Earl, I mean within the last twelve years. If we're talking three hundred years, *you're* my best friend—no offense intended—"
"I regret ever talking to you," Earl grumbled, turning his backside to Frondo.
"Quiet down and answer one thing at a time," Cohen said. "It's your friend, so do you know where it is?"
"Absolutely," Frondo replied. "It's near the town. Honestly, the livestock business here is pretty outdated, and it's starving. After sleeping for eleven years, it's out looking for food. Probably in the river valley by now… Are you thinking of adopting it? If so, stock up on cows—"
"Silencio," Cohen said, whipping out his wand at Frondo.
"Much better," Earl muttered.
"Temporary," Earl added with a huff. "That spell'll wear off soon, and your quiet life's toast."
(End of Chapter)