Red Eyes (manxman)

Chapter 3 - I Am Cruel

“The death circle,” Soraya whispered. “That’s a powerful spell.”

“You know of it.” Zeke whispered.

“I have, will it work?” Soraya shook her head. “It calls for 100 lives to be scarified, it is a huge deal.”

“I don’t think I can-“ Cooper started.

“No, this cause is much bigger than that Cooper, any member of my order would throw themselves in front of death for the opportunity to stop this evil. This will work, I am sure of it.” Zeke explained and then slid off the bed walking over to his backpack and pulling out a red velvet cloth which he pulled back to reveal the God’s blade.  It shimmered in the light. Ancient Aramaic runes were inscribed on it and the hit was a stunning gold.

“You have to stab him at the exact time of the spell.”  Zeke explained holding the blade out for Cooper to hold. Cooper held his hand over it then picked it up, it was heavier than he thought it would be.

“How can we coordinate that?” Jake pointed out sitting up.

“I will just text them a second before.” Zeke explained.

“Oh, yeah…we’re in the 21st century.” Jake laughed then looked back at Cooper. “You got this?”

“Yeah,” Cooper nodded. “No pressure.”

***

1942, London.

Pru hobbled into her small London apartment, the walls rattled and the dark night sky lit up. England was in the midst of a war. She was an old woman just touching 60 and her old features and wrinkled hands showed that the years weren’t kind to her. She moved over to grab her evening coat as the bomb alarms sounded and she had to run to the underground, the London subway, for shelter.  As she opened the door a tall man waited for her. He was handsome and debonair, skinny with dark slicked back hair. He smiled at her.

“I thought you might need some help ma’am.” He whispered and his eyes glowed red in the darkened hall.

“So, you’ve come for me.” She said, her American accent revealing more about her person than anything else.

“That little girl from the wild west, an elderly woman in London. Now how does that happen? Some help, I assume.” The red eyed demon entered the room. He walked over to a shelf. Pru hurried for the door but the man waved his hand and the door slammed shut. He shook his head no and laughed holding up a picture. It was a younger Pru, with a husband and a baby in his arms.

“Well, Jeremiah, I’ve been told stories of you. But I’ve lived a good long life and you’re no bit closer to finding the key to your demise than you were decades ago.” Pru hobbled over to her favorite chair then sat down.

“That’s a shame,” The demon frowned and walked over to the window. He smirked. “Call me Percy, what a wonderful war we are in. I wonder if this little island will survive the Nazi threat.”

“I lived through the first Great War, I don’t need to live through this one.” Pru clutched the arm of her chair as the whole building shook. That bomb was even closer than the last one.

“That is quite true.” Percy smirked he was unshaken by the explosion. “Where did you send your child? I need to know.”

“You will never know.”  Prudence straightened her posture in the seat, still a bit shaken from the explosion.

“Who helped you?” Percy shouted as the sound of bombs exploding in the distance rattled the windows.
            “Can I offer you a tea?” Prudence countered; she made it clear that Percy wasn’t going to get the information easily.