Caution moves like a cat down the rusted-out fire escape. But she didn’t leave without warning Wayne-Ray how dangerous Merlin could be. He dug a baseball bat out of his closet. He used to bat in the high three hundreds in Little League. That’s where he’d gotten the broken nose — sliding into home. The catcher was in the hospital for weeks.

She drops to the ground. There is a weed-choked backyard, a fence with a door that creaks alarmingly. Then there is an alley. She’s out on Roncesvalles in no time. She should head north up to Bloor. Major Street is only four subway stops away on the Bloor line. But she stands on the sidewalk in the new darkness so that people have to walk around her.

“Freak,” a man says, dodging to avoid making contact with her.

“You have a point,” she says, calling after him. Then she turns and heads south until she comes to the corner of Wayne-Ray’s street.

From behind a telephone pole, she can see the Nissan, three cars down. It’s empty as far as she can tell. The sidewalk is as well. She digs her keys out of her pocket and makes her move.

The car is locked, and she fumbles with the key, drops it, picks it up again, swearing to herself. She ducks low and glances over the hood, up toward Wayne-Ray’s place. Nothing.

She tries the key again, yanks the door open, and jumps in. The car starts right up. She revs too high in her excitement. Then she engages the clutch and pulls out onto the street. She cruises by the boardinghouse unseen, turns south on Sunnyside, left again at the first street she comes to, and then heads south on Roncesvalles. The car smells of L’Homme and marijuana. That gives her an idea.

Roncesvalles ends at Queen, where she turns east. She calms herself down, concentrates on her driving; last thing she needs is a cop pulling the beater over when it smells like this. It’s busy on Queen, the end of the rush hour, the start of the nightlife. She knows she promised Wayne-Ray she’d go straight to the mystery address, but she’s following her instincts right now. Whatever magic might have led Merlin to Wayne-Ray’s, she’s pretty sure the man can’t fly. So if he’s going to pursue her, he’s going to have to do it on foot. Might even have to rely on public transportation like ordinary mortals.

It’s closing on seven when she reaches Parliament and turns south. She pulls a U-ey south of Front and heads back, pulling over right in front of the Fifty-first Division headquarters of the Toronto Police Service. With her eye trained on the entranceway, she unzips her Little Mermaid backpack and pulls out the Baggie of weed. She chucks the bag into the backseat, gets out, locks the car, and takes off north in a big hurry. There are no other cars parked in front of the police headquarters. It’s a no-parking zone.