@diabolics
August had texted him, he knew he was supposed to call, but whatever, it was a simple piece of information that had been relayed well enough. Just off of Greenfield Street was an alley that led behind the buildings, the area where they were going was spelled, concealed by magic so that it was especially difficult to find if you didn’t know where to look already. It might have been a work of a witch, but in all likelihood the Fence had a Fae in his employ, the man was not above working or exploiting others to accomplish a goal. It was fitting that he should die here.
With his text he’d reminded Philippe to bring his grimoire with him, they needed something to at least pretend to use as a bargaining chip. There would be people at the door ready to check the goods before the pair of them were even let inside. August had been to the hospital following his confrontation with Philippe and Aria, she seemed content to fix this for him, and part of him was almost obliged to let her. Though it seemed reckless to endanger another person, then again, since when had he ever cared about other people?
The alley was cold, it was well after dark, closer to daybreak at this point, just short of 2am, their appointment had been set for the witching hour. The Fence’s name was Sylvain Cloutier, and how long he’d been operating in town, August wasn’t sure, but the end was approaching. He felt Philippe before he saw him, though the vampire’s speed was every bit as blinding as August remembered from the night before. “Did you bring it?”