“Hope you made peace with your gods, you fuckers!” Mr. Hall roared, but Paul let loose a 9mm hollow point into his thigh from behind the shelter of the suitcase. Court’s heart was pounding madly at the developing bloodbath as a screaming Mr. Hall drew on Paul, clipping the suitcase twice and missing the target in the dark.
The homeowner stumbled down the stairs, and all Court could think of was escaping. Now, while the wife and daughter were hiding in a locked room, all he had to do was get past Mr. Hall. He waited for Paul to engage the sadistic Hall, so that he could slip around them and head up the steps.
‘Stay calm. Stay… calm,’ Court advised himself. ‘If you panic you are going to end up dead. Wait. Just wait. It is dark enough.’ With the suitcase in Paul’s grasp Court had nothing to sell but the cutlasses and the belt, but at least he would escape with his life. Flashes from both barrels momentarily lit up the room as the wounded bear of a man raged after the intruder shooting at him. Court saw his chance as Mr. Hall fell hard on the suitcase, trapping Paul underneath. He took two more of Paul’s hollow points in the shoulder and neck, but he was too angry to feel anything.
Court looked back from the steps as he crawled nearer. Mr. Hall planted a bullet firmly in Paul’s head before he collapsed.
‘Go! Go! Go! You can still get away!’ Court’s inner voice shouted. He scrammed up the steps, barely hearing the panic-stricken Hall women in the drawing room. They had no idea who was being shot, but they had specific instructions to stay in the room. From a distance away in the bloody night, Court Callany could hear the approaching police sirens as he exited the house and laboriously scaled the stone wall and fence.
He ran. As unfit as he was, he braved the stabbing pain behind his clavicle and in his side and he ran for his life. Two squad cars stopped in front of the house. “There!” he heard one officer shout.
“This is the police! Stop or we will open fire!” another officer yelled, but Court was not going to get caught. If he had to go to prison, his wife would never get the help she needed and his grandson would end up in a shelter or worse. He had to escape.
At once, a rain of bullets erupted in the normally quiet neighborhood and hit the fleeing suspect in the knees, spine and back of the head.
“What the fuck?” the officer gasped. His colleagues were as shocked as he was. “Shoot him!” he shouted, and another cluster of gunshots rang through Whitecraigs, hitting the suspect at least twice more. “Are we shooting blanks?”
Court gasped for air as he fled across two unfenced yards to reach the main road. The bullets that struck him felt like pelting rocks, but there was no blood. In fact, there were no entry wounds. He had no idea what was going on, but he kept running until he could not feel the pain anymore. Across the parking lot, his car came into view and it was then that Court Callany began to weep hysterically. As he unlocked his car behind the supermarket building, he removed the belt and swords and threw them on the passenger seat.
Back at the Hall residence, the police found Mr. Hall dead on top of the intruder he managed to slaughter. They still could not explain how at least a dozen slugs hit the running suspect, yet left him unharmed.
“Anything stolen from the premises?” the officer asked the distraught Mrs. Hall.
“Not that I know of. That was all of it,” she sobbed over her husband’s body as they emptied the suitcase back onto the shelves. She neglected to note that the umbrella holder had been ransacked, but not being the antique dealer her husband was, she had no idea that a priceless relic had indeed been lifted — a relic of legendary power.
4
Glasgow History Week
Gracewill Primary was a relatively new school, considering the curriculum followed. Principal James Willard was reminiscent of the archetypical teacher, apart from the fact that he dressed somewhat like a wizard. The sixty-year old Brit had been teaching for most of his life, until the position of principal opened up at Gracewill’s old premises, a place he had long yearned to work at.
Principal Willard was a whimsical man, making him the perfect leader for a school of young children. His love for wearing an inverness cape over his suit perfectly complimented his borderline imperial moustache, giving the grey haired headmaster an appearance of a gentleman from the school’s heyday. Not a man for sports, he was tall, sporting a bit of a beer belly, which was probably what started his affinity for the cape business over his suits.
“Welcome to Gracewill, Dr. Gould,” he chuckled as he briskly traversed the floor of the front office to greet Nina. “I must say, it is an honor to host such a renowned historian at our humble academy, and I cannot wait to attend one of your lectures at the Edinburgh History Society next month.”
“Wow, that is a mouthful,” she jested with a wink and she reached out her hand to him. Both his soft, warm palms enveloped Nina’s dainty hand as he introduced himself. “The pleasure is all mine, Principal Willard. I am sorry that I answered so late, but I was tying up some loose ends after a disastrous train trip in Eastern Europe.”
“My God, I heard about that,” he replied seriously. “I believe you saved a group of international delegates from a terrible crash.”
Nina scoffed with a smile and tolled her eyes back in mock modesty. “Actually, I was one of those saved by my two colleagues. They deserved the accolade, in truth, but yes, we narrowly averted a terrible tragedy.”
Nina tried to keep her replies simple, but in fact, the light mention of the would-be catastrophe ordained by the Order of the Black Sun would have brought on global destruction. It merited a long and dramatic account, but she hardly had the strength to relive it, let alone explain the anomaly of physics that was employed for sinister agendas. For her peace of mind and that of the world, Nina elected to treat the ordeal as a train accident and nothing more.
“Well, I am very glad that you and your friends did something to save the people on that train, Dr. Gould, and delighted that you are still with us!” he cheered as he ushered the petite brunette into his office.
“So, Principal Willard, would you like to fill me in on the purpose of my advisory position here for the next week?” she asked as he sat down opposite her. The office reeked of wood polish and old carpeting, reminding Nina of her visits to the principal’s office during her high school career. To her surprise, she found herself feeling quite affected by the smell, jolting her memory back in time to when she was a diligent, but feisty student.
In the sharp morning light that permeated through the pallid blinds behind him, Principal Willard looked like an Olympian god. The grey halo of his sideburns and hair shimmered from the blinding rays as he folded his hands together. “We have a history week here at Gracewill every year and the faculty and I thought it would be interesting for a historical academic to advise us on the finer details. We thought it would breathe some new light into the tiresome old curriculum prescribed by the school board. You know, just to make things more exciting for the children before they grow up and discard it altogether.”
“Interesting,” she smiled. “I think it is a great idea.”
Of course she did. Nina would garner more attention towards her field and its exciting possibilities. If anything, she was hoping to plant some seeds in the young minds at Gracewill that would rouse such a wonderful curiosity for the past as she harbored. Although the school board were not paying her much for the pulling power she could bring them, Nina had enough money to spend her time spreading the word on the fascinating world of history.
“So, you would be interested in sitting in on our history classes, then?” he beamed.