Vincent clutched the vile of liquid in his hand as he reread the address attached to it. He was vaguely disappointed looking up at the building in front of him. It was definitely the right address. The building was old, probably early nineteen hundreds. The brick that made up the majority of the building had once been painted white, but now the little paint left was chipped and stained revealing the worn out remains of a crumbling foundation. It was at least four stories high, with windows in columns and rows going across each floor. There was only one door, that Vincent could see, It was a large double door that was made out of sturdy wood that had stood against the test of time. Leading up to these doors were three concrete steps, and a small iron gate surrounding those.
Vincent reluctantly stashed the vile back into the pocket of his over sized trench coat, and headed through the iron gate, up the stairs. He looked around to see if there was a buzzer, and, of course, there wasn't, just a knocker on each door in the shape of an eagle with a branch in its mouth. Unfortunately for the eagle on his left, half of its face seemed to have been bashed off. Leaving it's branch awkward and out of place. Vincent slowly lifted his hand to the eagle on his right, and, with grace he thought he had lacked, rapt three long times on the door. He waited for two very long minutes, and was about to reach out and knock again, when the door opened. Suddenly, before him stood the tallest man Vincent had ever seen in person. His head went past the door frame and he had to bend over slightly to see Vincent. His face was a grayish color, and very round. He had no hair, except for little gray tuffs right above his ears. He didn't even have eyebrows. He wore a dusty gray track suit under an even dustier red and yellow plaid bath robe. The robe, which would come down to any normal sized person's ankles, only came down to right above the man's knees.
"Hello?" The tall man asked in a very accusing tone. Without realizing it Vincent had gone an entire minute without saying a word. He had done deliveries for Molly before, but he still couldn't get used to her clients.
"Oh, um," Vincent fumbled around awkwardly with his jacket, but finally managed to rescue the vile from his pocket. "Mr. McAbby?" Vincent stumbled on the name. Vincent looked back up to the man, who now had his non-existent eyebrow cocked. Vincent knew he wasn't human, but he didn't know exactly what he was. He didn't have the Sight like Molly, but he also knew that wasn't always a bad thing.
"Are you here on behalf of Ms. Summers?" The man asked. Vincent could spot, now, an accent, but he couldn't place it to anywhere.
"Um, yeah, I mean yes." Vincent had discovered it always paid off to be polite around the Fey Folk. They were older than anything, and looked down on most humans.
"I'm sorry, but Mr. McAbby will no longer be in need of your services," The man began to close the door, but Vincent caught it with his hand. This turned out to be more painful than he'd thought.
"What do you mean? Molly said this was medicine. How could he not need it anymore?" Vincent was aggressively rubbing his hand now.
"He's dead," At that moment Vincent stopped everything. It's not everyday you hear about someone of the Folk dying. You think about them as being immortal, "We do not live forever, you know, just longer than most." The man said, as if reading Vincent's thoughts.
"Oh, well. I'm sor-"
"Don't waste your apologies on me, young man." The man cut Vincent off short. Vincent was a little annoyed, but he didn't let it show on his face. Instead he stopped the door from closing again. This time much more gently.
"Yes?" The man asked with obvious curiosity.
"If you don't mind me asking, how did he die?" The man laughed loudly, Vincent was caught off guard by the volume of the laugh.
"You don't know? Oh my, this is amusing. Well, if you really want to know, he died having an iron stake shoved through his chest." Vincent only stared, almost unable to get out his next question.
"W-who?" Before Vincent eyes the man, who already towered over him, seemed to grow event taller.
"Who indeed," The man's voice was barely a whisper, but Vincent heard him clearly. Vincent backed away instinctively, and almost tripped down the concrete steps. The man just smirked and closed the door, leaving Vincent alone and desperately clinging to his wits and a small glass vile.
It didn't take him long to be on his way. And as he walked he became more and more infuriated. He looked down at the vile in his hand and suddenly threw it across the street he had been walking down. It caught the side of a bench at a close by bus stop, and as the glass shattered, the contents seemed to shimmer into the air, leaving a small cloud of pink smoke hovering over the broken glass. Vincent carefully walked over to where the remains were. He bent down and picked up a shard of glass, letting pink sand slide down as he lifted it. He squeezed the shard of glass in his hand until a trickle of blood dripped down onto the toe of his shoe.
"Shit!" Vincent gasped, clutching his hand. He gingerly took out a white handkerchief from an inside pocket of his trench coat. Wincing while he worked, Vincent tied the handkerchief around his bleeding hand. He got back up and looked around. The sun was barely visible past the horizon of tall office buildings. Vincent cursed again and started jogging back down the street.
When he arrived back at his one room, poorly lit apartment there was a girl standing at the stove. She was small in height and figure, but you could see the outline of muscle through her arms and legs. She had thick, wavy, dark hair, which she had tied up in a messy bun atop her head. Most of her face was covered in metal, rings going down her ears and eyebrows, and other studs on her lips and nose. She wore a tightly fitted black t- shirt and black cargo pants underneath a plain beige apron she had tied around her waist. Though she was concentrating contently on the pot she was stirring on the stove, she turned and smiled as Vincent walked through the door. Vincent smiled back the best he could as he took off his trench coat and threw it on the floor near the door. Beneath it he was wearing a beyond worn out t-shirt and a pair of jeans he had cut off at the knee to make shorts.
"Hi Molly," Vincent waved to her slightly with his bandaged hand. Molly gasped when she saw the blood soaked fabric, and Vincent quickly tried to hide his hand behind his back. "Molly, it's nothing. I'm fine. What are you making?" Vincent tried to push past her without making eye contact.
"More medicine and you are not fine. Let me see." Molly pulled Vincent's arm to her and she began unwrapping the handkerchief from his hand. "What did you do?" Molly asked suspiciously, but not taking her eyes off his wound.
"I'm fine. It's just that stupid Faerie was being all cryptic, and you know they give me the creeps to begin with." Molly looked up at him and sighed, shaking her head. Then she looked down to continue examining his hand. "Anyway, I was mad, and I threw that medicine shit and cut my hand on the glass."
"Vincent!" Molly dropped his hand and just looked at him. "You know how hard it is for me to make that stuff. Why'd you go and waste it like that?" She turned around and walked towards a small cabinet by the stove.
"I'm sorry, but why'd you have me go over there if you knew the ancient thing would be dead?" Vincent poked at his wound, only to flinch away at the pain. Molly sighed and turned around. She had a small jar of powder in her hand.
"It's called, 'keeping up appearances'. Please tell me you at least tried to look surprised." Molly took his hand and sprinkled the powder over his wound until it was completely covered.
"Of course I did. He has no idea." Molly just made a face at him. Then she leaned in close to his hand and blew away the powder, revealing clean and unharmed flesh. She looked up at him and smiled. "Where'd you learn how to do that?" Vincent asked, turning his hand over.
"I have a few tricks up my sleeve." Molly just winked at him and went back to stirring the pot on the stove.
"Uh huh, like this stuff?" Vincent asked, pointing to the shimmering liquid in the pot. Molly just smiled. "What is this stuff, really?" Vincent eyed her suspiciously.
"I told you its medicine." Molly said without looking away from her stirring.
"I don't get you! Why are you helping them!?!", Vincent half screamed as he backed away from the stove.
"Haven't you ever heard of keeping your enemies close?" Molly said, still not looking away. Vincent just stood there and seethed. "Anyway," Molly continued, finally turning to face Vincent, "There are some mermaids by the docks I wanted you to look into."
"What? I kind of wanted to get the freaky tall guy." Vincent pouted.
"Can't," Molly said simply, "It would look suspicious if he dies after you drop by his house. Also, trolls are kind of hard to take down." Molly finished nonchalantly.
"He was a troll!?! You could've told me you were sending me to meet a troll unarmed!" Vincent said hysterically, practically waving his arms in the air.
"Calm down, you're fine, aren't you?" Molly crossed her arms, "Really, I don't understand you. You're all big killer man, then you get scared of one little troll."
"Well, it's different when I've got the iron and they aren't three times bigger than me." Vincent said, turning away from the conversation. He bent down near a wooden chest placed in the middle of the room. He had to clear off the tope of it because they had been using it as a table. There was a loud metallic sound as he opened the chest, revealing various weapons, all fashioned out of iron.
"Don't be all gangster this time. Just bring what you need. It will slow you down if you are carrying all that iron around." Molly was back at the stove, stirring. Vincent just snorted and took out a long chain and a dagger. He got up and walked back to where he had thrown his trench coat. As he put it back out he stashed his weapons within the hidden pockets.
"Hey Vince," Molly called before he could open the door, "Take this, you look starved." She quickly grabbed an apple from the counter top and threw it his way. He caught it with one hand while opening the door. "Oh, and Vince," Molly said sweetly. Vincent suspiciously turned back around. "I'll be waiting up." Then she teasingly blew him a kiss. Vincent just snorted again and slammed the door.
"I wish."