THE FARAWAY LANDS OF OZ - Book One

Part Two, Chapter Eight: The Good King and Vincent

EVANORA

I could even feel the tiredness in my eyes that was how little I had managed to sleep last night. It was nice in this place, but I had to admit that I didn't feel at home at all. On the contrary, quite the opposite: I wanted to get behind the Black Fairy's involvement as fast as possible, help with the Vampire Plague and quickly get back to my life.
Zion was fast asleep beside me with his muscular naked torso, weighing on my arm. I slowly pushed him off me, trying not to wake him up. But if I had had to remain in this position, any longer, I would have screamed.
I lifted the snow-white sheets off me and stepped into a pair of woolen slippers before changing into brown, leather pants, a cream-colored blouse, and a grey trench coat before I moved out of the slippers and into a pair of dusty, old, leather boots.
With silent steps, I moved out of the room and the way back to the room where we had dined last night. I am glad that I had paid close attention to the paintings on the wall and if I hadn't, I probably would have gotten lost by now.
As I was sure that no bedrooms were in the vicinity of my stroll, I lost the caution in my walk and went off to raid the kitchen for food. Despite our late dinner, I was quite hungry because of the hours I had spent staring at the moon-lit ceiling.
In a cabinet, I found a leftover loaf of bread, a bit of cheese and several jars of wine. One takes what one can get even if it means wine for breakfast. When in Rome...
I continued my search, although I was now focusing on a knife with which I could slice the bread and cut the cheese and a corkscrew to open the sealed bottle of wine. After a while, I found both and prepared myself a humble meal.
"You can make one for me as well..."
I jerked around to see the king standing in the doorway and in his mauve nightgowns. He looked rather puny without the big crown on his head.
"You're already awake?" I asked, as I moved the knife along the breadcrust to prepare him a piece of breakfast as well.
"I could ask you the same thing..."
He was so mysterious that it intrigued me but also unnerved me at the same time. I wanted to know every story behind the man that was standing behind me, know every secret in his little head and suck all of these from him.
"Well, I never quite got around to sleep in the first place."
I felt him moving closer, but I was already pouring him a glass of wine as well and turned around to hand him his plate and cup, before he could do or say anything. For a while, we sat at the long table, in silence, slowly chewing our bites of sour bread, pungent cheese and sweet wine.
"I have a mission for the lot of you, today." As I didn't answer, he continued, "I have some open orders and I wanted you to go and grab them for me, I would have sent Isabel but now that you are here... Besides, then you could meet the third man in the business."
I looked him in the eyes, as I swiped the crumbs off the plate and emptied my glass of red liquid. I really wished that Ruby was here. Without her, I doubt that I will ever pierce the wall behind his eyes.
"Is that all? Just fetch some orders?" He nodded and I thought about it. "I'll do it now; doesn't seem much of a challenge."
He smirked and began to stand up from the table. "You are right. And the sooner you get going, the faster we will be done and will have taken care of the plague."
I agreed and he took the two plates and glasses back to the kitchen, wishing me good luck. "Wait, how can I find him?"
He turned on his heel and giggled. The wine went faster to his head than I would have guessed, and it wasn't even a dry one. "I forgot that you are not from here. You just follow the main road and then turn left at the butcher's."
"Thanks," I said, before going through the door, past long rows of paintings and finally out of the gate and into the fresh morning air.

With daylight shining onto the bricked roads, the streets of this quirky London looked a lot less intimidating than during nighttime. I walked down the main road, as the king instructed, past shops and houses and I could see happy families play around and eat through their windows. They had no idea what was going on in the shadows. At least I hoped that they didn't know...
At the butcher's shop, I took a left turn and the only house that was standing there was a run-down old building that looked a lot like a tavern. At least it may have been one back when the walls were walls and not merely wooden planks through which the wind was whistling.
The closer I got, the more I wanted to turn around and just say that this person was nowhere to be found. Just when the door opened. Out came a sturdy, middle-aged man with a balding hairline and thick, bushy mustache. He wore a grape-colored tunic and a stained apron in front of his deep brown pants. His leather shoes were ragged and muddy.
"Excuse me!" The man stood still and stopped tossing the trash onto a pile of compost. "Excuse me, I was sent here to pick up an order. Sent here by the king..."
The man slowly, turned around to face me and I noticed that I was a bit taller than him. He had round cheeks and an aging face with brown eyes and a stomach, three times the size of his head. "You are not Isabel. Isabel was supposed to come here. Who are you exactly?"
"My name is Eva Fawkes and we have come to help you with them. The cause against 'you-know-what'."
"As of when?"
The man reminded me of myself. Suspicious until the very last second. I did not even know if I could trust the king as of now. I knew absolutely nothing about him. I knew absolutely nothing about everything around here: the city, the people, the threat.
"As of yesterday. Picking up the goods is my first mission..."
He chewed on his tongue and tossed the remaining pieces of trash out of the bucket and onto the pile of decaying egg-shells, vegetables and meat. "Come. I have the goods inside."
He entered the door back into his little establishment. I hesitated at first but eventually followed him inside. It looked just as run down on the inside as it did on the outside but not until the man went behind the moldy counter and pressed a button underneath the tabletop. A blinding light made me squeeze my eyes shut and when I was able to open them again, it was as if we had been transported into another reality.
It was magnificent. The floors were polished and waxed oak, such as the furniture. On the Bordeaux-colored walls, hung goat horn candles and animal heads and antlers. The 'achievements' of the owner.
The room was divided into two floors – a spiral staircase leading to further tables. This was a typical London pub of the 17th century. Behind the counter was a bar. Display cases full of various local and international liquors. A door to the right of it probably led to the back room or the owner's living quarters.
"How?" Was all I could bring out at the moment and the man chuckled in amusement.
"One of the last pieces of magic in this country. Now: You are here for the shipment, you say?"
I nodded, confirming only what I had said before and he once again reached under the counter but instead of pressing any other buttons, my host heaved a wooden crate onto the tabletop, making its contents rumble against each other and the crate's walls with a crystalline clink.
"What is it?"
He lifted the lid and revealed a 5x5 box full of bottles; 5 of them placed in it vertically and the other five, horizontally. Making a total of 25 bottles of unknown content. I hope the king hadn't sent me out to deliver his personal stash of liquor. I would be infuriated...
"Holy water," The man answered harshly.
"Praised by the last priest in town, before we found him decapitated in his church. This was the only chest, I could save, before the chapel mysteriously went up in flames, while I was in it."
I nodded once again. This situation really leaves me short in words... But he changing "we" to "I" really reawakened my suspicion. Is there someone whom we don't know? What are this man's secrets? I immediately shrugged off these thoughts.
As much as I praised father for this thorough training of every type of self-defense and how to spot things in someone's sentences that every other person would miss, it sometimes gets in the way. There must be a reasonable explanation. Isabel could have been with him, for one... Yeah, that must have been it. I mean, they are a group and probably go on missions together all the time.
"Thanks. The king will be pleased about this!" I thanked him once again, as I took the heavy crate into my arms and turned on my heel to leave the place.
"Say, I didn't quite catch your name, sir..." I had waited to ask him ever since he asked me inside.
"I am Vincent Van Helsing."
A Van Helsing? Benjamin's father always used to muse about knowing this ancient family of Vampire Hunters. To meet one here was a surprise but at the same time made total sense. I was dumbstruck only for a split second and caught myself quickly enough, not to raise any further suspicion.
These people, shrouded in secrets, really got the best of me but I would get to the bottom of this. Once, I set my mind up to something, I do not rest until I have achieved my goal. This can either be seen as a benefit or burden. Sometimes it is both...
I exited the shop and caught only a glimpse of its real façade, before Vincent returned it to its run-down state. It was a flawless brick-building with stained glass and a sign that read 'The Siren's Call', apparently the pub's name.