Bert sat on the aqua pleather, paper-lined examination table with his feet dangling over the edge. At 23 he was not a short man, but the table was high enough to keep his feet from the ground. He waited for the doctor while browsing the internet on his phone and fighting the urge to scratch. He waited in the room for an hour before a sudden knock at the door startled him. The doctor, a woman with a salt and peppered bob cut and laugh lines around her mouth, smiled as she entered.
“Mr. Hada, how’re we doing today? I’m Dr. Nielsen. What can I do for you?” She stood before him holding a clipboard, but her green eyes focused on his dark brown eyes. Bert lifted his left arm up to show her the sickly, dark green gash that ran up his forearm. “Oh, wow. That could be healing better. When did this happen?” she put on a pair of blue disposable gloves.
“Today, a couple of hours ago,” Bert replied. He grimaced slightly as the doctor touched and pushed at various points along the sides of the wound. After a few more prods she nodded, stood back, and removed her gloves.
“That recently? I take it back, you’re healing perfectly. The coloration and spread are somewhat different than what I’m used to seeing, but it all seems to be normal. I’m glad you came in though, you can never be too cautious,” she smiled. Bert did not.
“It looks like I have gangrene, that can’t be normal,” Bert shook his head. Dr. Nielsen nodded.
“Your immune system must be strained, usually the wound would be a brighter less putrid color by now. But it’s doing its best. Was one of your parents human by any chance? That would explain the coloration.” Bert’s face paled and his eyes narrowed.
“They were both human,” he said flatly. Dr. Nielsen shook her head.
“Oh my, I’m sorry to be the one to tell you. The way that wound is healing, that’s fairy blood in your veins. You might want to have a conversation with your parents about,-“
“They died when I was eight,” Bert interrupted her. “Are you sure it’s not something else?” he asked. The doctor held up her hand in a “wait here” gesture, then left the room. A minute later she came holding a small vial filled with gold glitter.
“This is for our, uh… better insured, patients. But if you’re fae, we’ll find out right away. Arm please,” she said. Bert held his arm out. She opened the vial and tilted it over his arm to sprinkle golden dust on the wound. Seconds after contact with the golden particles dark green vines began to grow out of the wound. The vines grew outward, across the wound from each side. They formed a suture-like bandage over the injury and continued to wrap themselves around his forearm. Dr. Nielsen slipped the vial into her pocket and nodded.
“Definitely fairy blood,” she said. Bert stared at the green vines around his arm and sighed.
“Now what do I do?” he asked. “I mean, work and stuff shouldn’t change, I’m good at my job. But,” he gestured at the vines with his right hand, “how many other weird things can I expect? How do I know if it was my dad or my mom? They don’t have any family left for me to ask.” Bert felt himself on the verge of tears. He did not have anything against fairies
“I’m sorry. I have other patients, and your case is already resolved. The last piece of advice I can give you is to go have some Chinese food downtown. There’s a restaurant named Donna Chang’s; the owner will help you out. She regularly deals with fae folk and she can give you some advice if nothing else.”