Growing Sunlight

The Apothecary

Tommy lifted a hand to shade his face as the first evidence of the sun peaked over the eastern rooftop. He squinted and hissed involuntarily at being interrupted by the light. If only the growing season were in the winter, his life would be so much easier. But his charges required sunlight to thrive. Tommy rose from his knees next to a bed of transplanted aloe and surveyed his work as he clapped his hands to knock loose dirt of his gloves. The spring had come early this year and it was time to move his new plants from the nursery to the ground. It was a sensitive time and he would have to keep a close eye on them.

Unfortunately, the arrival of the sun called for the end of his current project. He carefully stepped between his precious plants and retrieved the watering can. He gave his new transplants a bit of water and took a quick step back. The succulents were planted where they were to get the maximum sun and that meant Tommy would need to be careful as he tended to them. He retreated, watering some plants as he escaped with the receding shadows. Dropping the watering can by the door, he dropped his gloves onto the counter and washing his hands and exposed forearms free of dust. He stepped out the door, leaving it ajar, and climbed the stair to his apartment, showered and dressed in a pair of dark jeans and a light gray dress shirt.

He grabbed a bag of blood from his fridge and holding it between his teeth, he descended the stairs, rolling his sleeves to his elbows. He pulled a mug from the cupboard and dumped the contents of the bag into it. He sucked on the bag before tossing it into the biohazard waste bin. Taking his check of his store before he opened for the day, he sipped leisurely at the blood. He made a note in his ledger of what was running low. Tomorrow was Monday, which meant a calm day in his workshop. It was the one day a week he kept for his own peace and quiet so he could restock his shelves. His phone pinged at him and he finished his blood, rising the mug in the sink in the back room.

Rolling a sleeve down and replacing a glove, he reached his hand beyond the curtain to flip the open sign. He unlocked the door and moved back to his workroom, his sharp ears tuned for that small bell that would signal a customer. He tossed his glove into the back room and re-rolled his sleeve. For the time being, Tommy took up his place on his stool and flipped through his notes in his ledger and began to make a list of which plants he needed to harvest and which he could start working with. Tommy was absorbed in his notes when he heard the bell ring. He inhaled deeply, taking in their scent before glancing up from his notes.

Human, the scent identified. Tommy’s lip quirked up a tad as his sharp ears caught the kid’s musing. Young blood, interesting. Outside his regular patients, his shop usually attracted witches and old sorcerers. Thomas lifted his eyes to glance at the young boy, he half expected him to wander in, realize he was not anywhere where the ambiance would lend itself to a good selfie, and leave. However, the boy wandered. Tommy went back to his notes, there wasn’t really much damage the boy could do.

So, Tommy focused on his notes, marking numbers here and there in his small neat writing. He was going to have to do a lot of harvesting over the next few weeks. And the rosemary needed to be cut back, it was again starting to invade its neighbor’s pot. It sold well, Tommy didn’t mind. Along with the other herbs, they were his most popular item. The mushrooms were running low and he needed to make another batch of the pain reliever. All his thoughts poured out one after another, recorded neatly in his book. For the most part, Tommy ignored the kid, keeping an ear on him. God help him if Tommy heard the clink of glass.

It’s an irritating sensation. The feel of someone watching you. It made the hair stand up on the back of his neck, an itch on the forehead as if the eyes were pressing on him. Slapping his ledger closed, Tommy’s head snapped up and fixed on the boy. “Do you need something?” Tommy growled, doing nothing to hide his annoyance. Perhaps it wasn’t polite, but Tommy was about a hundred years over being polite. He was here to work, not be some sideshow to a kid too wet behind the ears to know that staring was rude. Tommy fixed his eyes on the boy, examining him with the same intensity as the boy was examining him. Pale, scrawny, the kid looked puzzled by something. Maybe he’d never seen a vampire before. Joy, dealing with a kid’s curiosity was not what he wanted to deal with today.

Bemused, Tommy watched the boy with a raised brow. How peculiar. Tommy leaned back and tapped his pen on his cheek. There was a sense that he may be trouble. Not the kind of trouble that came from someone intending to be trouble. But the kind of trouble that came from nervous fumbling. Shaking his head, Tommy flipped open his notes again and tried to focus. He kept the kid in his peripheral vision. It was so distracting having someone browse a store. Especially some kid. Ugh, of all the people, teenagers annoyed him the most. Giggling to each other, causing trouble. Acting as if they were the rulers of the universe. When he was their age he had been working for his father and learning his trade. Now they had no purpose, no direction. Just floating about the world like they owned the place.

Noting the kid wandering toward the vials and concoctions Tommy decided he wasn’t going to wait for an accident to happen. “Hey, kid,” he called. Leaning on the counter he crooked a finger at the boy, beckoning. He was far too young a kid to be looking over those vials. He shouldn’t need anything here. Tommy wasn’t going to shoo out a potential customer, but the kid was clearly out of his depth.

Thomas watched the boy with narrowed eyes, suspicion rising. It didn’t help his case that the boy looked altogether guilty. He slinked to the counter and Tommy tried to force himself to not judge the kid before he knew more. It wasn’t the kid’s fault that Tommy thought everyone was awful. Poor kid probably didn’t even have enough years in him to be considered ‘bad’. But one didn’t need to be ‘bad’ to be troublesome. He rested his elbow on the counter his sharp eyes meeting the boys as he examined him for a while not saying anything. Everything the vampire did was calculated. He waited just enough time to be sure the kid was uncomfortable.

“Do you know what those vials are for?” He asked. He watched the boy carefully, his healers’ mind working through all the things that could potentially be wrong. Nothing smelled off, but that didn’t mean that there wasn’t something wrong. Blood was the strongest indicator, but it wasn’t like he was going to just take a chunk out of the boy’s arm to find out. He’d been at this job long enough to know when someone was in trouble and when they were faking.

The point was, those medicines were hard to make and some of the ingredients were hard to come by and Tommy wasn't going to be happy if curious fingers caused them to fall and break.

Tommy leaned back and made a slight hum in the back of his throat, as if satisfied with the answer. “They’re medicines,” he answered, “Of various sorts. Sickness, headache, nausea.” He pointed to the shelf, “Those salves there can help with burns, sore muscles, bruises.” Turning his eyes back on the boy he was silent for a while in thought. “This is a medicine shop, you see?” Now his tone was neutral, reserving judgement before he decided this kid was trouble. Glancing toward the candles and teas, Tommy gave a shrug. “Well mostly.”

He turned his eyes back to the boy. “Are you in need of anything like that?” He asked, there was something peculiar about this boy. Tommy rarely saw teenagers in his shop, and those that he did usually came with a parent. Something was off, Tommy couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but this kid didn’t wander to the candles or the teas, nor the ornamental plants. He wandered to the vials of medicine.