A metro train rumbled by temporarily drowning out the squeaking sax’s appeals for loose change. Gerrick tugged his coat a little tighter and looked this way and that. The message had said 4:35 PM.

His watch said 4:36 PM, and he knew it was correct. He also knew he was not a patient person.

“You Gerrick Abernast?” The rough voice startled Gerrick so thoroughly he coughed and sputtered something that resembled saying yes. The man, a portly fellow in a banker’s suit wheezed, “In accordance with directions given us by your late father, this is your inheritance. Thus concludes all affairs betwixt your father and The Guild of the Seven Wolves. Don’t spend it all in one place.”

Before questions could be asked or answers given, the man left as quickly as he had arrived, leaving Gerrick with a very heavy, and utterly filthy burlap sack.

He looked left. He looked right. He looked in the bag.

He looked in the bag again and wondered aloud, “What am I going to do with a bag full of fairy dolls?”