The pet supply store was crowded and buzzing today with holiday shoppers. Jenkins hated crowds, but it was Christmas time and so they couldn't be helped, and he simply couldn't put off his shopping any longer. Franklin went through chew toys and puzzle toys like candy, and if he didn't have the distraction provided by the toys, Jenkins feared the hyperactive little tea dragon would begin gnawing on the priceless and irreplaceable books and artifacts of the Library. He shuddered inwardly at the thought.
Jenkins and Cassandra stood in line, patiently awaiting their turn to pay for the heaping cartload of supplies that garnered more than one questioning look from the other shoppers. As they finally stepped up to the cashier, the tall immortal turned to his wife, lightly clapping his hand to his forehead.
"Cassandra, my dear," he said in a distressed tone. "Would you be so kind as to run back and pick up a large box of those treats that Franklin is so fond of? I completely forgot that we were out of them!" Cassandra smiled brightly and patted his arm.
"Okay! I'll be back in a couple of minutes." The redhead turned and left the line, hurrying off in the direction of the dog food aisles. Jenkins then turned his attention to unloading the shopping cart. As he heaped armload after armload of toys onto the counter, he smiled at the shell-shocked clerk.
"I'd forget my head if it wasn't attached!" he murmured amiably. The clerk stared at him and said nothing, then began to ring up what promised to be hundreds of dog toys. While the clerk was manically scanning the items, Jenkins slipped a hand into his overcoat pocket and pulled out a tightly folded dollar bill. He quietly slipped it into the collection jar of a local animal rescue, called The Jungle Haven Ranch. It specialized in taking in exotic animals like tigers, monkeys, wolves, and even an Indian elephant—animals that had been rescued from circuses and irresponsible pet owners who had no idea how to care for a normally wild animal once it had grown out of infancy and into a full-grown adult. Jenkins had seen a news report of the rescue several weeks ago, and how they were struggling with getting the funding they needed in order to take care of the animals properly. Having down his good deed for the day, he then began loading the bags full of toys back into the cart as quickly as the clerk filled them. Cassandra ran up a few minutes later carrying a huge box of dog treats in her arms.
"Ah! Thank you, my dear!" Jenkins said as he relieved his young wife of the heavy burden and placed it on the counter. He bent and gave her a small peck on her forehead.
"For your troubles," he rumbled affectionately, then went back to loading the cart.
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"Holy cow!" Ezekiel yelped a few days later, and looked up at the other Librarians as he held up his phone.
"You all are not gonna believe this!" Jacob, Cassandra, Eve and Flynn all looked up from their work and stared at him expectantly.
"There's a news article here about a place outside of Portland called The Jungle Haven Ranch. It's a wild animal rescue that was on the verge of shutting down due to lack of money," he continued. "It says here that someone dropped a 1794 Flowing Hair dollar coin into one of their collection jars…"
"A WHAT?" hollered Jake, bolting upright in his chair, his blue eyes popping wide. "Are you kiddin' me, man?! That can't be right! That thing would be worth millions of dollars!" Cassandra and Baird exchanged confused glances, while Flynn leapt up from his seat and ran over to peer at the phone's screen.
"Yep, that's what it says!" the Librarian confirmed, then looked up at the others and rubbed his hands together. "1794 Flowing Hair dollar, in pristine condition, too! The first dollar coin issued by the US Mint, 1794-1795, and one of the rarest coins in the world. Looks like the 'Angel of Portland' has struck again!"
"The who?" asked Eve, eyeing Flynn warily. "This isn't something that's going to be showing up the Clippings Book anytime soon, is it?"
"No," the Librarian answered, waving a dismissive hand. "Nothing like that! I first learned about the Angel not long after we arrived here at the Annex and did a little digging. 'The Angel of Portland' is a nickname people have given to this person—no one knows who it is—who has gone around Portland each Christmastime for decades and drops one ultra-rare coin into a random charity's holiday collection. Each year it's a different charity, each year everyone wonders who'll be next to receive a donation. Flowing Hair dollars, Fourteenth Century Edward III florins, 1787 Brasher doubloons, 1913 Liberty Head nickels, 1849 gold Double Eagles, Eighth Century Umayyad dinars—rare coins from all over the world, all time periods."
"And each of 'em is worth hundreds of thousands, in not millions, of dollars," added Jacob. "Man, I'd love to meet who the cat that's got a coin collection like that and can afford to just give 'em away like that!"
"Yeah, but, where could all these coins come from?" asked Eve, frowning. "If they're really as rare as you say, it seems like they could be traced back to their original owner pretty easily…?" Flynn shrugged his shoulders.
"No one's been able to find out so far, and believe me—people have been trying for years. Every coin known to exist is accounted for. It's like these coins just...fall from the sky!" Carsen waved his hands up at the ceiling.
"Like pennies from heaven," Baird bobbed her head in understanding. "Hence the name, 'Angel of Portland'. Well, good for the animal rescue, then! That should keep them in tiger kibble for a few years, anyway."
"If they invest the money wisely, they'll never have to worry about tiger kibble again," said Flynn. "Same for all of the other charities, too."
"What others have there been?" asked Cassandra, her brow furrowed. Carsen began ticking them off on the fingers of one hand,
"Well, last year it was a small medical facility specializing in studies of the human brain and in research to find cures for various diseases of the brain. The year before that it was the Bard Society of Oregon, the year before that it was the Portland Public Library. The list goes on, all the way back to 1895 at least, when the first donation is believed to have been recorded—an uncirculated 1652 New England Pine Tree shilling, if memory serves."
"If it goes that far back, it can't possibly be the same person, then," scoffed Jones.
"Yeah, but it could be the family of the original donor, keepin' the tradition goin'," said Jake thoughtfully. "Maybe a corporation, or a trust of some kind?"
The globe mechanism for the Back Door began to spin, the double-doors glowing to life. They swung open to allow Jenkins to return from a relatively stress-free shopping trip to one of his favorite magical supply shops, his arms full of bags and tied-up bundles of all colors and sizes. As he passed through the doorway, Franklin, the Caretaker's pet tea dragon, appeared out of nowhere, jumping up and down with excitement and squealing shrilly in greeting.
Jenkins gently dropped his burdens instantly onto the table and held his long arms out. Franklin leaped up into them and began licking the man's face, grunting happily the entire time. Jenkins chuckled as the small dragon began poking his snout into the various pockets of the immortal's overcoat and his suit jacket beneath in search of treats. Jenkins, astonishingly, pulled out a caramel popcorn ball the size of a softball from a jacket pocket and held it up to show the dragon. Franklin immediately began to screech with excitement and to claw frantically at the rare treat. Jenkins stooped and rolled the candied corn across the floor, sending the tea dragon into paroxysms of joy. He scrambled onto the man's shoulder and launched himself after the popcorn ball, snapping at it as he chased it across the room, his claws skittering against the wood. Laughing, Jenkins began gathering up his purchases.
"I'll be back in a few minutes, my dear," he said. "I need to take these to the lab while Franklin is distracted."
"Here, I'll help you!" she offered, and jumped up from her chair. She stood on her toes to kiss his cheek, then took as many of the packages as she could carry and began to walk with him down the corridor.
Once they were in his magic laboratory, Jenkins directed her to drop all of the packages onto the main workbench. As he began to sort through the various bundles and bags, Cassandra lingered and began to unwrap one of the larger bundles. She gasped and jumped back in surprise, her nose wrinkling in disgust as she discovered it contained a large plastic bag full of what looked like furry, raw liver.
"Omigod, Jenkins!" she yelped. "What is that?" He looked over to see what she was talking about and chuckled.
"Ah, that would the selkie skin," he said. "It hasn't been cleaned yet, that's why it looks so disagreeable. I always prefer to do the cleaning myself. Delicate operation, must be done just so or the quality of the skin and fur are completely ruined."
"Don't you have, like, a hundred of these things already?" the Librarian asked, still eyeing the repugnant-looking mess; it didn't smell all that great, either. Jenkins stopped to look her directly in the eye.
"One can never have too many selkie skins, my dear!" he declared, but didn't elaborate any further. As he went back to sorting through his purchases, Cassandra covered the disgusting skin with its wrapping paper. Turning her attention back to her husband, she walked over to stand next to him and slipped her arm lightly around his waist.
"Ezekiel was just telling us about an anonymous donation that an animal rescue received," she said, trying to sound casual. "Someone put a super-rare coin into one of their collection jars, Jake said it's worth millions of dollars. The rescue was gonna have to close its doors due to lack of money, but now he says they don't have to worry about money ever again." Jenkins only grunted distractedly while he worked. Cassandra tightened her arm slightly around his waist.
"And Flynn says that it's been happening every Christmas for the last 100 years at least," she continued, carefully watching him. "They can't figure out who's been doing it, there's been no discernible pattern to the charities that receive a donation, they've all been randomly picked apparently. Until now, that is." The Librarian smiled in satisfaction as she felt her husband's body tense beneath her arm ever so slightly, just for a moment. His hands froze for just a second, then continued to untie a paper-wrapped parcel.
"Indeed?" Jenkins replied vaguely.
"Uh-huh," she said, confidence in her voice. "Over the last four years, at least, there actually is a pattern." She held up a small hand and began to raise a finger for every item on her list.
"One—the year we all came to the Annex and became Librarians, a donation was made to the Portland Public Library. Two—the year we defeated Prospero, a donation was made to the Bard Society of Oregon, which I just happen to know is a group that brings the work of Shakespeare to disadvantaged kids all over Cascadia. Three—the year I had surgery to remove my tumor, a research hospital that specializes in finding cures and therapies for people suffering from brain injuries and diseases receives a donation." Cassandra turned and faced Jenkins. He now stood straight and stock still as he listened to her recitation.
"And now this year—the year that you just happen to adopt a lost tea dragon, a rescue that specializes in saving exotic animals and giving them a happy, healthy, safe place to live out their lives receives a huge donation that will set them up for life. Coincidence?" Cassandra shook her head, making her long red curls bob, and laid her hand on the immortal's arm. The immortal remained frozen, his eyes focused on the parcels, his face unreadable.
"I don't think so," she said quietly, looking up at the suddenly uneasy man.
"You're the Angel of Portland, aren't you?" she declared, a statement more than a question. Jenkins remained unmoving and silent for a few moments, then turned his silver head to look down at her. He inhaled deeply as he gazed at her, then exhaled and held out his hand.
"Come with me, my dear," he said. After securing the lab door against curious tea dragons, the Caretaker took his wife's hand and led her back to their suite without another word, despite her curious questioning along the way. When they were in his study, he strode over to the shelves lining one wall of the room. Reaching high over his head, he pulled down a large, ornately-carved box of rosewood so old it was nearly black, and carried it over to his desk. He dug around in a desk-drawer for a moment and retrieved a large brass key, inserted it into the box's lock and turned it. He lifted the lid and stood back so that Cassandra could have a clear look at the contents. She stepped forward and peered inside, and gasped in shock: The box was full of old coins. She reached in and began to dig gently through the mass of metal. There were coins from all over the world, from a span of time that seemed to begin with the Dark Ages all the way through to the Nineteenth Century. Gold, silver, copper, bronze, even a few coins made of what looked like jade. Stunned, she turned her face up to his.
"Pocket change," he offered, somewhat embarrassed. "You know how some people have the habit of having jars or bowls where they empty their pockets of change at the end of the day?" He nodded at the box.
"This is my 'change jar', so to speak. Except that I've been emptying my pockets for over a thousand years, after journeys all over the world. I would come back to the Library from a business trip, empty my pockets of change, and simply toss it all into this box, thinking that if I ever went back to a certain location I would already have some local currency to take with me. I collected far more coinage than I ever spent, however." He scooped up a handful of the coins and let them slip through his long fingers, his expression distant.
"You know, King Arthur always encouraged his knights, his nobles, to practice almsgiving, especially at Christmas," he said, seeming to change the subject, his voice tinged slightly with sadness at the memory. "And he insisted that it be done anonymously—he was very strict on that point. It wasn't a true gift if one expected anything in return for it, even mere acknowledgement or simply thanks." A smile suddenly came to him.
"Every year during Advent, as an example to the court, Arthur would disguise himself as a beggar and go among his people, a fat purse full of gold coins hidden beneath his clothes. Any time he came across some poor person, he would slip a coin or two amongst their meager possessions or into their begging bowls without them seeing him do it. When his purse was empty, Arthur would come back to the castle and regale the court with stories of what he had seen. He was never happier than after one of those forays," Jenkins said. The old immortal was quiet as he stared unseeingly into the box of coins, lost in the past.
"Did you ever go with him?" Cassandra asked curiously. Jenkins came back to the present and nodded.
"Yes, quite often, when he allowed anyone to accompany him, that is. And I was always sworn to absolute secrecy afterward. What he reported to the court barely scratched the surface of the great good he had done for his people on those outings." The old knight smiled again faintly and took a deep breath.
"I've carried on the tradition as best I can ever since," he said. "In the distant past I was able to do just as Arthur did—disguise myself and go among the poor, slipping them coins made of gold or silver that they could sell for the metal content. After I joined the Library I wasn't able to do that anymore—the Librarians forbid it. So I had to content myself with dropping them into church or monastery poor boxes. When I began to set up shop in Portland, I gave to local charities, but by then most of these coins were so rare that I didn't dare give more than one or two for fear of drawing too much attention. Plus, one coin a year guarantees that they will be untraceable and maintain their highest value." Jenkins sighed as he fingered a solid gold Spanish doubloon.
"Still, believe it or not, I miss the old days sometimes. Going out among people, the challenge of hiding much-needed money in their pockets or in their bags, the feeling that it gives one to know that one has helped someone who truly needed aid, and without expectation of thanks. Imagining their faces when they discover their newfound wealth..." He looked over at his young wife and smiled, almost bashfully.
"There's no other feeling like it on earth!" With another deep sigh, Jenkins began to close the box, but Cassandra stopped him.
"But you can do it now!" she said urgently, her blue eyes shining with excitement. "We can both do it now!" Jenkins opened his mouth to protest, but she cut in before he could say a word.
"No! Listen!" she said, becoming more enthusiastic as she spoke. "Take one of these coins of lesser value, one worth maybe a couple thousand dollars so that no one gets suspicious, and cash it in. Get the money in small bills—tens, twenties, maybe a few fifties and hundreds. Then we can just go out one day, wander around the city and give the money out to whoever we see who needs it! But we don't let them see us do it, just like Arthur said!" She suddenly turned to face him, her blue eyes wide and shining.
"Oooo!" she yelped, clapping her hands with mounting excitement. "We can get Ezekiel to show us some tricks so that we can sneak the money right into peoples' pockets without them knowing! Oh, Jenkins, let's do it, please?! It'll be so much fun!" It looked as though Jenkins was going to agree with her, but then he frowned.
"I hardly think Mr. Jones would be willing to tutor us in the art of reverse pick-pocketing without knowing the reason for it," he said. But Cassandra took on a knowing look.
"Oh, I wouldn't worry about that too much," she said slyly, bouncing slowly on her toes. "Especially when I show him the pictures I took of him while he was wearing Santa's talisman hat a couple of years ago—like, the ones of him wearing that frilly apron and carrying a tray full of hot chocolate, or-r-r the ones of him making all those Christmas cookies while wearing said frilly apron and covered so adorably in flour...? All I have to do is threaten to post them on Instagram and..." She shrugged her shoulders carelessly, and Jenkins stared at her, awed.
"Dear God, woman!" he exclaimed, impressed. "I do believe that you're the only person I've met in my entire life willing to blackmail a miscreant into doing a good deed!"
"'Blackmail' is such an ugly word," she all but purred as she slipped her arms around her husband's waist and looked up at him. "I prefer the term in pari delicto, don't you? It sounds so much nicer to me—'in equal fault'. 'Cause we are all in this together, right?" Jenkins threw his head back and laughed.
"You wicked, wonderful, clever woman!" he growled as he lowered his head to kiss her softly. "Do you know how grateful I am that you're on the side of the Library?" Cassandra smiled at him as she snuggled against him.
"No," she said coyly. "But then I've always been more of a visual learner. Why don't you show me how grateful you are...?"
