Prolouge

     It was cold, and windy. A man walked alone down one of the many streets in the town of Bastille. It was rather quiet tonight, you would have your random stranger walk past every now and again but they were the drunk or homeless and paid no mind to the man that was walking swiftly down the street in mucky weather.

     The man rounded the corner and found himself at the intersection of Angel Drive and Highland Road. He turned and moved down Angel Drive, the light sprinkle of rain turning into a heavy down pour. The man paused outside a red brick house. Something about this house was off. He pulled out a piece of parchment, the glanced at the address written in the middle of the page.

134 Angel Drive

The number on the house matched the number on the paper but the condition of the house would suggest that no one lived there. The man moved forward, stepping carefully on the caved in porch stairs. He knocked lightly on the door and waited.
    The door creaked open and the man stepped inside. "Hello?" he called out seeing no one to receive him at the door. "Mr. Cartwright. Pleasure to have you here." A slim shadow appeared at the top of a staircase. "Are you the man who summoned me here?" Mr. Cartwright called out. "Yes I am" the shadow said. It begun to move, slowly and stiffly.
     "May I inquire who you are and your business with me?" Mr. Cartwright asked.
   "Who I am is not really a concern of yours but, my business is with you is rather important.
    A tall thin man stepped into a dim light revealing his face. His hair was a silvery white, his body seemed to curve in ward slightly, his face was thin and sunken it had the appearance of a skull. "You see Mr. Cartwright, I am very old. You, you are very young." Mr. Cartwright brow furrowed in confusion. "What is this all about Sir?" he asked again.
    "I have a request for you Mr. Cartwright, but first, how old do you think I am?" the man asked.
     "Early eighties, late seventies" the other replied.
    "You would be wrong Mr. Cartwright, and off by about a hundred years." a thin smile appeared across the man's face. "I'm afraid I don't understand. Are you saying that you are over one hundred years of age?"
     The man smiled again. "Yes, you are correct in that."
     "But that is impossible. No human man could live that long."
   "So you are aware that there are other things in this world than humans. Am I correct Mr. Cartwright?" Mr. Cartwright eyes widened. "I thought, but those were just stories, things I had made up. There is no possible way that things such as werewolves and fey exist."
    "You are right in thinking that those things don't exist in this world, but in another." the man turned and opened a door to under the staircase. "If you will please follow me Mr. Cartwright I have something to show you."
  
      He followed the old man into a large office. Books upon books lined tall shelves that stretched above their heads. A small fireplace was off to one side, two tall back chairs sat in front of it. Even a small desk was placed in the room.
     This room was so different from the one they had been in previously. This room was so much warmer, not just in temperature but mentally. It was far more lived in, far more special.

     "Please, take a seat." the old man gestured to a squat chair that sat on one side of the man's ancient desk. "Please Sir, you haven't even told me what your business with me is, nor why you have chosen me to be the one complete this business."
    The old man held up his boney hand. "I know that all this must be very strange for you. I will tell you why I've chosen you to complete my tasks. Is it not true Mr. Cartwright that you are in need of a place to reside?"
     "Well yes I suppose so."
     "That is one of the reasons you stood out to me. The second is your mind my boy." Mr. Cartwright looked at the man inquiringly. "Look at the walls in this room boy, are they not covered in books? Even the floor has stacks of them. You may inquire from all this that I do a rather lot of reading. Out of all these books that I have read, yours are the ones that stick out the most." the man reached into one of the drawers in the desk. "This book in particular is what really convinced me that you are the right man for the job."
    Mr. Cartwright looked at the book that the man had just pulled from his desk. It was indeed one of his works, Fey in the Garden. "Sir this is from two years ago. How can this book be what made you choose me for whatever you wish me to do?" he placed the book back on the desk.
    "This book Mr. Cartwright is no ordinary book and I believe both you and I know that. Tell me what inspired you to write this story?"

     Mr. Cartwright was at a loss for words, he knew perfectly well what had made him wish to write this story. Two years ago he'd been in quite a pinch, need a bit of money to settle a dept. He was out in his garden when something small and glowing flitted into his view.

     "I wrote this book in a time of deep desperation. Whatever you may have gotten out of this story other than it being some silly children's story is complete and total-" the old man held up his hand again. "Your mind Mr. Cartwright is not silly, nor is it foolish. This book told me that you are able to see things in a different light, you look at a rich man's shadow but you don't see the outline of his body. You Sir, see this outline of his demon within. When you look at a woman you don't just see a face or her form, but the beautiful creature she really is. Mr. Cartwright, your mind is a magnificent thing! You see things differently than others, you see the magic that is hidden away in this world, and that my good Sir is why I have chosen you to protect something!" the old man suddenly looked twenty years younger. "Earlier this evening you asked me how old I was and I told you the whole and honest truth but you did not leave, you did not walk out you stayed and you listened, any other man would have called me a looney and walked right out but you, you stayed!" The old man slumped back in his chair the excitement leaving his body. "Here boy, open this."
    He handed Mr. Cartwright a sealed envelope, this one far more detailed and older that the one that he had received that morning. He opened it and began to read it's contents.
   
      "Sir! This is the deed to your house, and all that you own!" Mr. Cartwright looked up at the man in pure surprise.  "Yes it is, you see young sir I am dying, and at a rather rapid pace. Give it two weeks and the house is yours and I will be gone. The reason why I am giving you all if this is because you will be guarding this house and something very important within it.Tell me Mr. Cartwright will you take this job?"

     The old man sat back down and looked at the man across from him. "I will take this job." Mr. Cartwright said after a moment of silence.

     "Splendid my boy, splendid! Every other detail will be given to you upon your moving into this home. When you move here this house is yours do with what you will, and if you choose to have a family I beg of you to keep this house in it."

Author's Note

If you see any grammar mistakes please let me know so that I may change them, thank you!

Reviews

[PureHeaven]

Very nice. It kept a fast pace, and you left me guessing just what's so important about the house.
I only found two mistakes, first one "He knock lightly on the door" I guess it was supposed to be "knocked"?
And the second was "He boy open this" maybe it was meant to be "Here boy, open this."
Other than that it read very well, looking forward to where this goes.

[Wildwood Fox]

Thank you! I'll fix these right away!

[PureHeaven]

Anytime yo.

[Donovan "Grey Wolf" Go..]

Huh this is a very interesting start. So many questions are racing through my mind. I can't wait to see what you have in store for the next chapter. Great write :)