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“And have you always had so many?” Yannick said, glancing at the rows of cages, stacked two high.

“Last spring was a bad one for kittens,” I said with a sigh. “But the number of stray cats has been going up every year—which means the number of cats freezing to death on the streets has also been increasing. We’ve estimated that around a thousand cats survive each winter, though most aren’t adoptable. To put a dent in the population, we’d need to start neutering the ferals, but we don’t get nearly enough donations to afford that. We do what we can for the tame ones, but I fear the situation is only getting worse.”

“My,” Yannick said, blinking. “I had no idea it was such a complicated problem.”

Élise released Fantôme, who gave a parting hiss and stalked back to his bed to sulk. “We could use more donations,” she said. “More volunteers. What charity couldn’t? But we’ve gotten by, and who knows what the future holds? It’s helpful to have a reasonable landlord.”

She gave Yannick a grateful look, allowing her long lashes to droop a little. But the look also had a question in it, and after a moment, Yannick said, “It was in our interest to have the place rented out as quickly as possible.”

He looked nervous then, as if he’d said too much. Muttering something about inspecting the plumbing, he excused himself.

Élise and I exchanged meaningful looks. Élise didn’t share my concern about the shop, and had lectured me for even thinking of turning down Yannick’s offer.

“So much the better if the place is haunted or cursed” had been her position. “The only good landlord is one starved for rent and desperate to please. Warts and snakes are easily dealt with, and the most ghosts can manage is making a nuisance of themselves, which makes them no worse neighbours than the living.”

I turned to find Mina at my elbow, fiddling with her fingertips. “What’s wrong?” I said. “Is it His Majesty again?” For His Majesty liked to terrorize Mina, hiding in corners and lunging at her ankles as she passed. The feral creature sensed weaknesses in people as well as in other cats, and took as much delight in exploiting them.

“Officer,” she said. “Just there. What does he want, do you think?”

I turned to look in the direction she indicated. A man with reddish hair and a pale, freckled complexion stood before the cage containing the two kittens I’d recently rescued, holding his hand up to the bars. The sister, whom I’d christened Lynx for her temperament more than anything else (her brother was Monk), was attacking his fingers with gusto. The man did not look like law enforcement to me, but I didn’t question Mina’s assessment. I squeezed her arm and went to stand beside him.

“Would you like to hold that one?” I said politely. “She’s a bit feisty, so if you’re new to cats, I might recommend her brother.”

He turned, smiling at me. I sensed something then, a certain piercing quality in his gaze, which I felt take my measure in a single glance. His smile, though, was amiable enough. He was around my age, and uncommonly handsome, with sharp features and dark eyes framed by long lashes.

“I’m only browsing,” he said.

“Ah.” I nodded towards the cats with mock gravity. “And were you looking for a specific size or colour? We have a broad selection, as you can see.”

He smiled again, more genuinely this time. “I actually dropped by to welcome you to the neighbourhood.”

“That’s kind of you.” Lynx was now sticking her front paw through the bars, slashing impotently at the air by the man’s shoulder. I clicked open the lock on the cage door and lifted the cat free, then plunked her into the man’s arms.

“I’m sorry,” I said, “but she seemed to want a proper introduction.”

He gave a surprised laugh. The black cat froze briefly, on her back in the man’s arms, before delightedly attacking the lapel on his wool coat.

“Little beast!” he said warmly. “Well, I grew up on a farm, so I’m used to the ways of cats. I think I know what will appease her—here we are.”

He lifted the cat off his coat and placed her on his shoulder. Lynx froze again, her mouth still comically hanging open. Then, to my astonishment, she butted her head against his ear and settled herself on his shoulder, seeming eminently pleased with her new vantage.

“I’m afraid you’ve no excuse not to take her home now,” I said. “You’re far too comfortable with each other.”

“I wish I could,” he replied, looking away with a wince, as if embarrassed to disappoint me. “But I would make a poor companion—my work is demanding, and I’m rarely at home.”

“Do you have a shop nearby?”

“No, but I often work in this part of the city,” he said. “Detective Rouzet. Please call me Laurent.”

“I see,” I said, noting that he held my gaze a little longer than necessary, as if to gauge my reaction. I had none—I could think of no reason why the police would have an interest in the shelter, apart from the banal one he’d already given. Even if my theory was correct and the place had once housed an illegal magic shop, this had nothing to do with me.

I gave him my name and held out my hand. He had warm eyes that narrowed considerably when he smiled, which made me wish to trust him automatically. At the same time, there was a guardedness about him that made me feel slightly wrong-footed, but I put this down to his profession.

He asked to see my rental contract, which I had no qualms about showing him. He frowned at the place where I had signed my name.

“Agnes?” he said, pronouncing it in the English way, with a hard G. “Not Agnès?”

“I’m named for my grandmother,” I said, smiling. “She was Scottish, and particular about the spelling of her name. You may pronounce it either way.”