Beneath the Exterior

[WP] "This potion will give you the form you truly desire." the shopkeep says, "Be warned, this does not mean beauty. I've seen men twisted into monsters by their dark subconscious desires. Very happy monsters, but monsters nonetheless."

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The shop at the address 32 Edmonton Lane was a strange place. Strange in the things it sold, and strange that a lot of people still patronized old Maggie, the shopkeeper and the only person who worked there.

 It must have been a family establishment dating back centuries; Maggie could have well been the third generation of, whatever her surname was, to own and run the place. Of course, all this was just a pure assumption on my part. No one ever asked Maggie anything about the place - they just came, bought, and went.

Anybody could be found there, ranging from the socialites and elites to the riffraff on the road. Owing to the peculiarity of what Maggie sold - most of it ancient relics and artifacts bothering on the dark, occultic, and the supernatural, you would have been surprised at just who patronized her.

But then, everyone had their own strange desires, lurking in their subconscious, having the potential to drastically change your opinion about them.

And I, Wallace Fernster III, had my own reasons for being there. Ringing the bell as I walked in, I walked straight to the counter, avoiding the eyes of the only other customer I saw there - a man in a black coat. If my eyes were not deceiving me, that was the statesman Jonathan Daugherty. As I said, all manner of men would come there, and even though I would have loved to know what he was after, much for my own personal amusement, I went about my business.

"Ah, you," she said, looking briefly into my eyes as she left through the door behind her. It was a strange thing, quite unexplainable, how Maggie managed to maintain a relationship as personal as it was impersonal and businesslike with her customers. Given what she sold, a certain air of discretion and confidentiality was required, yet she managed to be familiar without being nosy.

There was a reason this place lasted as long as it had, that was for sure.

"You have gone through all I told you when you made the request, yes?"

Ignoring her question, I dumped the bag of gold coins on the counter, "I added a little extra for you. Cheers to good..."

"The money, as you well know Mr. Fernster, is not of the utmost importance to me. At least not when the Blacksmith's Vitriol is concerned. The ingredients of this potion are difficult to find, and its effect is as dangerous as it is expensive. I want to know exactly what you thought of my warning, and why you've decided to proceed."

Unlike any wretched sleaze who would have sold it without caring what its effects would be on the buyer, Maggie genuinely cared. But then again, her care was beginning to irritate me.

"Maggie, your terms and conditions were well understood. Yes, I do know that this would give me the form that I wish to possess in the secret crevices of my heart, and that I proceeded to come here must tell you a thing or two about my resolve. I don't think there's any more reason to pry into my reasons; you have the goods and I have the money."

Smiling, she uncorked the potion and handed it to me. "Your resolve seems as sure as your arrogance is clear. This potion will give you the form you truly desire. But be warned, this does not mean beauty. I've seen men twisted into monsters by their dark subconscious desires. Very happy monsters, but monsters nonetheless."

"Do you not think that for a second, my wish is to become a monster? Perhaps my wish might be to abandon this lithe, feeble temporary form and ascend to the realm of the supernatural, setting up camp at the border between man and beast and existing on this earthly plane till the end of eternity itself?"

She looked completely nonplussed at my words, "I have seen many crazy men, yea, but none so crazy as you. Still, I experience no surprise at your choices. Very few of the men who drank this were unhappy at the outcome, no matter what they looked like. I don't believe you'll be any different."

Downing the contents of the vial in one gulp, I grinned.

"Neither do I."

It took a while, but I could notice the effects. My fangs growing, not enough to protrude beneath my lips, but enough for me to notice they had been there. My heartbeat slowed, my skin gained a pale tint for a while before returning o normal, and I could feel my muscles become stronger.

The form I wished to have.

"A vampire?" She asked, shock registering on her face before she narrowed her gaze. "You wish to feed on blood and be addicted to it?"

"As you can see, my skin is not pale. Permit me to say this is a rather upgraded version of a vampire - all the benefits like physical strength, stamina, and excellent senses. But then, without the perks like the extreme bloodlust, intolerance to the rays of the unforgiving sun and that horrendous skin tone."

She actually giggled quite gracefully, much like a schoolgirl. "Way to put a technical spin on it, Mr. Fernster. But, you'll still need blood every once in a while."

"You can call me Wallace now. And that, I do. And I intend to have my first feeding soon," I said, putting on my hat and flashing her a 'toothy' smile. "Thank you!" I said as she greeted an enthusiastic "You're welcome" before walking me to the door.

With that I stepped back into the sunny yet chilly Autumn morning, flicking my tongue over my sharp fang and wondering what it would feel like to sink them into the jugular vein of my fiance.