Cyril's vision was completely gone as soon as the doors closed behind him. Cyril ran his fingers along the door to find the lock and then turned it. The lock slid shut with a thunk.
Cyril backed away from the door cautiously, straining his ears to listen for any signs of the monster in the storm beyond, but the only thing he was able to hear was the rain crashing against the roof and walls of the building.
The darkness of the building was unsettling, so Cyril reached into his pocket and turned on his phone flashlight. He panned his phone around the place, examining his surroundings.
He was in a large square room. There was a wooden counter to his right with jars of varying sizes placed in front of a mechanical register. Four candles were on the counter. Two next to each other on one side and two on the other. The wax of the candles had melted significantly and were frozen in a waterfall of wax that cascaded down the candlestick and pooled beneath them on the wooden countertop.
In the middle of the table there were some dried up plants. Some of the plants were placed on a cutting board, half chopped up presumably with the knife laying on the counter next to it.
Cyril stepped closer. The knife was short, the blade only about three inches. On the handle of the knife there were intricate carvings of roses and vines that were woven together in a mesmerizing pattern.
The placement of the items was strange, like someone had just left right in the middle of doing something. He shone his phone around, taking in the rest of the room. On the wall behind the counter, there were rows and rows of drawers, from floor to ceiling. The drawers themselves were placed close together and were small and square. Directly behind the counter, the drawers on the walls made just enough room for a door.
The other walls were lined with selves. The entire surface of the shelves were covered with something, whether that be some sort of plant, or more glass jars filled with who knows what. No space was wasted on the shelves.
Cyril's eyes wandered back to the counter, specifically the beautiful knife. He walked behind the counter and picked it up. He was admiring the intricate carving design when his phone's flashlight began to flicker and then shut off, plunging the room into darkness.
"YOU!" A deep voice came from behind him and a hand gripped his shoulder.
Cyril jumped and dropped his phone with a shriek. He whirled around and swung the knife at the figure. His wrist was caught in a firm, tight grip. The candles on the desk flared to life, soft candlelight now illuminating the room.
The man holding Cyril's arm was tall with long dark hair in a loose ponytail that draped over his shoulder. His pitch black eyes glared harshly down at Cyril and his mouth twisted in an enraged snarl.
"How dare YOU!" His voice raised in anger. "YOU THIEF!"
Oh shit! Cyril thought. The place was apparently not as abandoned as it had looked. This man was probably the shop's owner and he was caught snooping around behind the counter and picking up things that weren't his. This wasn't a good look.
"Wait! No, I'm not a thief! This isn't what it looks like!" Cyril pleaded, hoping that the owner would believe him.
"Oh?! Then that isn't my knife that I see clutching your gubby little hand, then?"
"I- I was only looking! I wasn't going to steal it, I swear!" Cyril's grip shifted on the knife and accidently nicked himself on the knife. He hissed at the sudden pain, but continued his defense. "The storm– there was something, some monster, out there in the storm. It was chasing me and I was just trying to hide! I only came inside here because it was the only place unlocked! Please, you have to believe me!"
The man's scowl had lessened and a contemplative look had come over his face. "The door was unlocked?"
Cyril nodded. The man hmmed and glanced towards the door briefly. Slowly, his grip loosened before letting go of Cyril's hand.
The man held out a hand for the knife and Cyril handed it over. It was tucked quickly away in one of the man's pockets. The man grabbed Cyril's hand again and held it up, gently turning it side to side, examining the cut on Cyril's palm.
"Alright. Follow me, child, you need to treat this cut before it gets infected."
The man turned around and entered the door behind the counter. Cyril followed, feeling relieved that he had been believed and that he was no longer on his own. Some of the stress built up in his shoulders loosened.
Behind the door was a longer room, filled with more shelves, this time housing books and bins and paper bags. The room was illuminated by the flame of several candles that were mounted on the shelf ends.
Cyril was led to a small worktable that was pushed against the back wall. The man pulled out a chair and motioned for Cyril to sit down. Cyril sat while the man went into the shelves before returning with a full basket of supplies.
He pulled out a damp cloth and dabbed away the blood from the cut. Cyril did his best not to flinch. The cloth was set aside and then the man pulled out a jar and opened it, scooping some of the contents onto his fingers.
"Antibacterial cream." The man explained when he noticed Cyril's curious gaze. He spread the ointment over the cut. "This will help prevent infection, especially since the knife you cut yourself on wasn't clean."
"Was the plant you were cutting harmful?" Cyril questioned as the man wrapped some bandages around his palm.
"Hmmm, not particularly. However, it's known to cause skin irritation to some. Though I'd be more worried about the bacteria that may have been on the plant and not really the plant itself."
"Ohh."
The man tied off the bandage, returned the items to the basket, and left the table. He returned with a cup and a small pill.
"Here. Pain medicine." The man held out the pill and cup to Cyril.
Cyril took them and downed the pill with a large gulp of water.
The man smiled kindly at Cyril. "So, I haven't seen you around here before. Are you visiting someone?"
"No. I actually just moved here with my mom." Cyril's eyelids began to droop, a sudden tiredness coming over his body.
"Is that so? What's your name, child?"
"Cyril."
The man's smile turned into one of malicious satisfaction. "Cyril… It's nice to meet you. That's what you humans say when you introduce yourselves, isn't it?"
Cyril's eyes widened and he fought against the tiredness that he was coming to realize was unnatural. "What– what did you do to me?"
"Oh, nothing. Just a harmless little sleeping pill. You'll feel much better when you wake up."
A growing horror took hold of Cyril's heart, but it was no match for the potent sleepiness. Cyril tilted out of the chair and fell to the floor. The ceiling above him blurred in and out of focus. He could feel himself losing consciousness rapidly. The man leaned over Cyril's body.
"How rude of me. I forgot to introduce myself back," The man grinned. "You may address me as Master. Welcome, my new little employee, to your new job. Welcome to my apothecary."