The next morning the High Warlock of Brooklyn was awoken by the sound of someone pounding on the front door. His loft was sound-proofed to prevent too much noise from going out. Maybe I should consider making it so no sound comes in here, he thought to himself. He looked at the clock beside his bed and groaned. It was 7:13 a.m.! What was wrong with people?

"Mr. Bane!" Came a yell from outside the front door. "Open the door, I must speak with you!"

He sighed, pulled a red silk robe over himself, fixed his hair with a snap of his fingers, and reluctantly opened the door. He was met by an infuriated Ms. Mèng.

"What is the meaning of this?!" She demanded, waving a slip of fabric at him. Her hair was falling down the side of her face in tangles, and it appeared as though she'd run all the way there the moment she woke up. Perhaps she had, considering the time.

"My dear lady," he said, "it is quite early in the morning and I am fairly certain I don't know what you're talking about. Please either specify your meaning or come back in five hours." After a moment of silence, he began to close the door.

"I mean, you said you were going to watch my shop!" She shrieked.

"And I did," he said, surprised. "The Children of the Moon seemed to have been using your backyard as a shortcut, I doubt they even noticed your garden. Nevertheless, I convinced them to reconsider their route," he finished.

"Moon children? You mean vampires?" She asked. Apparently just because she knew of the hidden world didn't mean she knew much of its kind.

"No, the vampires are the Night's Children. The Children of the Moon are lycanthropes. Werewolves," he clarified.

"Well that's all well and good with the garden," she said, "but what about my shop?"

"What about it?" He asked, leaning against the doorframe.

"Something broke in again! It's destroying my antique shop! I came in and another cloth was torn!"

So that's what's in the shop, Magnus thought to himself, before realizing his client was still talking. That's...more than a little stereotypical actually.

"What are you going to do about it?!" She was asking.

"Have you considered that the creature breaking into your shop may simply be a r-" He was cut off by the infuriated woman.

She pointed her finger at him and all but growled, "Don't. You. Dare. Say. Raccoon."

"Wouldn't dream of it," he said with a small smile. Mortals, they always tried to be in control. Trying to ignore how little affect their short lives really had.

"Good," she said sternly, holding out a small pouch to him.

"What's this?" He asked, raising an eyebrow.

"It is a key to the shop," she said matter-of-factly. "If you were unable to prevent the creature from getting into the shop in the first place, then maybe you can catch it once it's already inside."

He nodded, and closed the door before his client could protest further. With a sigh, he dropped the key on a table and thought with amusement how differently things usually went when someone offered him a key to their home.

…

The antique shop was cluttered, yet completely organized. Among the displays of jewelry, lamps, vases, and other furniture, there was a table dedicated to intricately carved boxes, placed in order of length. A glass case full of perfectly placed porcelain dolls followed him with glass eyes; and delicate paper fans lined the walls next to beautiful tapestries. Which, upon closer look, were shredded at the ends. One had only the smallest of tears, and Magnus recognized it from the slip of cloth his client had shown him. It was really barely noticeable though, nothing to get so worked up about. Ah well, he thought, As long as I've been paid I suppose it doesn't matter how trivial the problem seems.

Once again, it seemed to Magnus that his client simply had a stray animal getting into her shop, whatever had torn the tapestries couldn't be very big. It probably was a raccoon. Just then, Magnus heard a small shuffling noise coming from the back of the shop. It was coming from beneath a shawl that had fallen behind an ottoman. He peered at the dark fabric, and saw something small moving beneath it. A large rat then, he thought to himself. He quickly yanked back the cloth, and gasped. It was a kitten!

He was a tiny slip of white fur with grey stripes, so small Magnus could hold him in his hand. He mewled loudly as Magnus gently picked him up, and then blinked up at him with little blue eyes, the pupils slits just like Magnus's own. He's so young to be away from his mother, Magnus thought to himself, stroking the kitten's head slowly. Its mewling quickly turned to a purr, and it bumped its head against his hand happily. Magnus suddenly remembered what his client had said during their first meeting.

"I almost had it trapped once, but it started shrieking and managed to get away before I could see it. It nearly bit my hand off though!"

That must have been his mother, Magnus thought. It would certainly explain the tipped over trash cans and ripped cloth. My client scared her off so badly that now she won't come back for her kitten… "It's alright," Magnus murmured softly to the kitten as it began to fall asleep in his arms. "I know what it's like to be abandoned too."

…

Magnus watched the kitten breath softly as it slept in its makeshift bed. It had seemed fond the blue armchair, so Magnus had taken several of his scarves and placed them on top of the cushion. The tiny feline had then immediately curled up and fallen asleep; regally claiming the space as his own.

"It's like they believe they're all royalty," Magnus thought to himself, smiling. His smile faded though as he was reminded of another person who possessed a similar attitude. He picked up his cell phone and dialed his client's number.

"Hello?" She answered.

"Hello," he replied. "I believe I found the uh, "creature" that's been breaking into your shop."

"Really?!" She exclaimed. "Was it some kind of demon? That screeching I heard-"

"It was a cat," he said, cutting her off.

"A…demonic cat?" She asked.

"No, just a cat," he assured her. "I believe she'd been living in your shop. The tipped trash cans were just her scavenging for food."

"But what about the cloths?" She asked in disbelief.

"Bedding for her kitten," he answered. "No demons, just a stray."

There was a pause.

"Oh," she said quietly. A moment of silence passed before she said stiffly, "Well, thank you for service Mr. Bane."

"Of course, Ms. Mao," he said, rolling his eyes. Mundanes…

"Mèng," she said flatly.

"Hmm?"

"My name is Ms. Mèng!" She said in annoyance. "Mao was the name of Chairman Mao! Can you really not be bothered to even remember your client's names? What kind of-" Magnus never heard the rest, as he then hung up.

"What an annoying woman," he thought to himself with distaste. There was a fine line between spirited and entitled. At least one good thing had come from the job though...

As if sensing his thoughts, the kitten woke up, and meowed loudly for attention.

"Alright, alright," Magnus murmured, walking over to the kitten. I have to call him something, he thought to himself. "But what? Something regal to match his personality..."

"Are you a Prince?" He wondered. "No, that's not right…. Emperor? No…"

The kitten stared at him from the chair, his tail waving back and forth as he focused on Magnus's ring-covered hand.

"It should be something no one will forget…" He looked at the kitten again, who was now trying to climb over the chair's arm, and smiled as an idea came to him. "That's it! You're a Chairman! Chairman Meow," he said, picking the kitten up. Chairman Meow purred loudly, and Magnus laughed. "It's official then. We should celebrate!"