The Devil's Blue Eyes

by Chris Sanders

  “There we go, cherub. I want you to drink every drop. It’s a cold night out there my lovely and you need to keep those old bones of yours warm,” Margaret spoke lowering the plate of warm milk before Edward. Slowly, Edward glanced at the plate and licked his lips. Like his owner, Edward had become a creature of habit over the years and his nightly plate of milk was something he’d come to expect. Margaret patted his head and waited for him to start drinking. During her time she’d owned and loved more than a dozen cats. Edward however had turned out to be her favourite. He was in many ways the child she’d never had and she loved the old rascal dearly.

  “Now, I don’t want to see a drop left Edward. Are you listening to me? You were very naughty last night. You only finished half of your plate!”

  Edward continued to sip from the plate, paying little attention to Margaret and her complaints. He’d very nearly finished his treat when Margaret thought she heard something moving outside. Curious, she took a tentative step towards the bay window and peered out. The streets appeared empty in either direction at first. There were no cars to be seen, or foxes for that matter rummaging about in the bins. There were certainly no pedestrians wandering the streets at such a late hour. She was about to turn from the bay window, having decided to make herself a second cup of tea, when a giant shadow cast itself across the shop’s interior and threw it into darkness. Margaret screamed. Edward, who over the years had become blissfully unconcerned by mortal man’s trials and tribulations, continued to sip happily from his plate.

  “Oh, heavens above!” Margaret wailed, holding her hands to her heart. Within a second the shadow had passed. Now Andre’s giant figure stood peering into the shop.

  “Let us in Mrs Bellingham. We are the friends of Alexander. You must let us in now,” Andre ordered knocking against the glass. Margaret could see that he was not alone now. She could see three other men with him along with a young lady.

  “Please, Mrs Bellingham. It is very cold out here,” Andre continued. Soon, he was joined by the others. They each stood peering into the shop, their hands stuffed into their pockets.

  “Yes, yes, of course my loves. One moment please. I’ll open the door,” Margaret spoke, having regained her poise. She walked briskly towards an old coat stand which stood near the kitchen entrance. A British infantry jacket worn during the Boer Wars hung from this coat stand. The jacket had belonged to her great grandfather and would never be sold. Reaching deep into one of its pockets, she pulled out the front door key.

  “Time to win the war,” she muttered under her breath, walking back across the room and slipping the key into the lock.

  ~ ~ ~

  “And this we believe was used at the battle of Waterloo!” Margaret enthused holding the cannon ball tightly in her hand. She then passed the ball to Andre who in turn handed it over to Luke. Both men studied the ball politely before handing it back to its owner. John and Andrew stood together looking unimpressed by Margaret’s treasure trove, eager instead to get their hands on the weaponry. Lena had found herself an old milking stool to sit on. Edward, who’d taken an instant liking to Lena, now sat contentedly across her lap, enjoying her fingers as they stroked the fur behind his ears.

  “Alexander told us that you have weaponry here,” Luke spoke, having grown impatient himself.

  “Ah, yes. Of course. Alexander mentioned you were in need of swords and the like! Our guns don’t work of course. Alexander explained that to you, I assume?”

  Luke glanced at Andre who simply shrugged.

  “None of them?” Luke questioned.

  “Not one I’m afraid. They are very old examples.”

  “But you keep sabres and swords, Mrs Bellingham? Alexander told us that you keep a fine collection,” Andre butted in.

  “Why of course! My father was keen on collecting swords. I think they were his favourite items in fact. He never admitted as much. My father was a very reserved man. He belonged to a different generation.”

  “I understand Mrs Bellingham. Could you take us to look at them?” Luke went on, his patience truly worn out now.

  Margaret smiled.

  “Yes. Of course. If you all just follow me this way. I’ll take you down to the bottom rooms,” she replied flicking on a small light switch which lived against the wall to her right. At once a narrow staircase, winding its way down and out of view, lit up before the group. Edward purred at the change in light and snuggled up even closer to Lena.

  “Down this way please, ladies and gentlemen. I keep the swords and armoury down here,” Margaret then announced stepping onto the staircase. One by one, the four men began to follow their host down the staircase. Lena picked up Edward and did the same. After a few minutes the entire group had reached the bottom.

  “Well, here we are!” Margaret exclaimed flicking on another light switch. A large basement appeared before the group.

  “It’s Aladdin’s bloody cave,” John mumbled as the lights had flickered on. Even Andrew now looked impressed by their new surroundings.

  “I don’t think you’ll find a better collection of medieval armoury in the whole of England!” Margaret proudly proclaimed.

  “It’s very impressive,” Luke commented scanning the room. Andre was the first to break ranks by strolling confidently into the middle of the basement. Raising both his hands high towards the ceiling he then proclaimed, “We have everything we need here to do a good job, men!” It was difficult to disagree. The basement, although narrow, stretched back perhaps fifty yards in total, with every inch utilized. For as far as the group could see, every kind of armoured suit and medieval weapon had been packed down here. There were swords of every length and width lining each of the basement’s walls. Luke had even spotted a ball and chain in one of the far corners.

  “Well, I will leave you to it, gentlemen,” Margaret then spoke heading back towards the staircase. “If you want anything from me I shall be upstairs.”

  “Thank you Margaret,” Luke replied.

  With that, Margaret left them to browse the collection.

  ~ ~ ~

  Carefully, Albert closed the thick volume and reached out for his walking stick. His eyes were sore from reading all evening and now he wanted to pour himself a well-earned glass of brandy before retiring to bed. Albert would be ninety-four next birthday and he’d spent the majority of those years running the bookshop. Quite soon however, he knew he would have to sell the business. Alexander had never shown any interest in taking over the store and having no other children to pass the bookshop onto, he knew that time was quickly running out. Worst still, If Luke and his friends were to fail their mission that evening, then the bookshop would become the least of his concerns. If Chatterton survived their plot, there was a good chance they could all lose their life.

  With a great deal of effort and not a small amount of pain, Albert managed to lift himself up from his chair. It was approaching midnight. If everything was going to plan, Luke and his friends would be on their way towards Chatterton House by now. With any luck Chatterton and his murderous mob could be stopped and exposed for the monsters they truly were. Albert had been praying for that day when Chatterton’s house of cards was finally brought tumbling down. This very evening, he hoped, would be the beginning of that long overdue process.

  A half-finished bottle of brandy sat at the back of the fridge. Albert was not a big drinker, but tonight was a special occasion. He reached into one of the kitchen’s cupboards and removed the largest beer glass that he could find. He then filled the glass to its very brim before returning the brandy to its home. He took a sip and closed his eyes. He savoured the warmth of the brandy as it ran down his neck and into his stomach. He took a second longer sip and sighed with satisfaction. He would finish every last drop and then retire to his bed. He’d been unable to sleep properly the past few weeks and now he hoped the brandy would help him rest.

  Albert didn’t hear the knocking at the shop’s front door at first. The knocking had been too faint for Albert
’s old ears to pick up. Closing the fridge, Albert slowly made his way towards the shop front. He lived above the bookshop in a tiny flat. This small studio had been Albert’s home for over thirty years. His wife of forty years had passed away thirty-two years ago and Albert had not been able to stand living in their old house without her.

  “We shall see what the morning brings,” he mumbled to himself as he neared the front door oblivious to the strange figure who now hovered outside. Albert was pulling down the door’s blinds when the figure again knocked, this time louder. It had begun to snow outside now, the first few flakes having begun to strike the stranger’s jacket.

  “Who’s there?” Albert asked, suddenly afraid. Through the door’s frosted glass he could just see the figure standing outside. “Who the hell is it?” he again asked.

  Slowly, the figure took a step forward, his long face suddenly pressed up against the frosted glass. The face then smiled and Albert could see a long pair of pointed teeth glaring right back at him.

  “Oh, no. Oh, please. Stay away from me. I don’t know anything,” Albert began to plead inching away from the door. In his panic, Albert dropped his walking stick. He turned to try and retrieve it but only managed to trip over his own unstable legs. He crashed to the floor hitting his head against one of the many table legs.

  “Please. Whoever it is. Whatever you are. Please just leave me in peace!” Albert continued to beg from the shop floor. For a moment there was silence. Albert sat frozen beside the table, staring at the frosted window pane. The strange creature disappeared. He could see the branch from a nearby tree rocking in the building wind outside, but nothing more. He watched as the snowflakes continued to patter against the frosted glass and wondered if he had in fact just imagined the face. Perhaps the brandy had gone straight to his head? He’d been off the drink for almost a month now, so it was possible he’d simply imagined those terrible teeth, wasn’t it? He was trying to lift himself up when a fist smashed through the window sending a shower of glass over him.

  “No!” Albert screamed, instinctively covering his face with his hands.

  He could hear the intruder unlocking the door now, his hand having calmly uncovered the lock. Soon, Albert heard the lock click open and then felt the icy blast of evening air as the door swung open. Terrified, Albert somehow found the courage to lower his hands.

  “Marshall,” he whispered.

  “You’ve been talking to the wrong people, Mr Simmonds. That was a very stupid thing to do.”

  “Please. Please. I can explain,” Albert continued to plead frantically trying to reach for his walking stick so he could try and keep the intruder at bay. It was a desperate, last-ditch attempt at survival.

  Slowly, Marshall closed the door behind him and reached for the shop’s light switch. He smiled this time a broader, more sinister grin. Albert could only watch in horror as, once again, Marshall’s reptilian teeth became visible in all their glory. A fraction of a second later and the lights to the shop went out.

  ~ ~ ~

  “And in here we have my favourite collection,” Margaret spoke having led Luke and Lena over to one of the shop’s back rooms. Andre, John and Andrew were busy packing away their swords and knives into two large rucksacks. Edward in the meantime was busy rubbing himself against Andre’s giant right leg.

  “I hope you are not squeamish,” Margaret continued slipping a key into the tiny lock. “We have the animals preserved in small jars. My father did it himself. We have animals from all over the globe,” she finished pushing the door open.

  “I have a strong stomach Margaret. You just lead the way,” Luke replied turning to smile at Lena who didn’t appear half as confident.

  “You speak for yourself,” Lena whispered as they entered the room.

  The space beyond was small and compact. Like the larger, basement room below, this room had also been rammed full until there was little or no space left to manoeuvre. Both Luke and Lena, unfamiliar with its layout, had had to squeeze their way past several piles of boxes.

  “We have three hundred and twenty-two jars in total,” Margaret commented as she stood herself near the centre of the room. Two large, wooden shelving racks flanked her. A dozen or more jars sat on each shelf, a small, dead animal having been carefully preserved within each one. The room had a heavy, musty smell about it. Both Luke and Lena had covered their mouth and nostrils as they’d entered.

  “The bottom sections contain rats, mice and other rodents. On the shelving above you’ll find bats, birds and lizards. We also have a fine collection of spiders at the very back of the room. I can show them to you after if you like,” Margaret continued, clearly very proud of her collection.

  “Perhaps some other time Mrs Bellingham,” Luke spoke. “Time is not on our side this evening. Some other day perhaps?” he finished.

  “Oh, of course. Please forgive me. I do tend to get carried away. My father was very proud of this room. It took him so many years to build up his collection, you see.”

  “We understand Margaret. There’s no need to apologise,” Lena broke in clutching Luke’s arm tightly as he led her slowly past each jar.

  “Very well, I’ll let you both have a little look around. You’ll find me at the back of the room. Just pop your head through the beads when you’re finished and we’ll re-join your friends outside,” Margaret went on pointing towards a small alcove. A hanging net of brown and white coloured beads covered the entrance to this alcove. Luke and Lena glimpsed even more jars as Margaret had pushed her way through the beads.

  “We can’t stay long Luke,” Lena then spoke. “Everything will be packed and ready to go soon.”

  “I know. Just another minute,” Luke replied smiling. “We’ll walk to the end of the room and then say our goodbyes.”

  “You’re too kind. That’s your trouble, Mr McGowan,” Lena went on leaning into Luke and kissing both his cheeks.

  Each of the jars had been labelled. There were specimens from nearly every corner of the globe. Margaret’s father had certainly been a dedicated man. Each animal had been perfectly preserved. The mice in particular looked as if they had been taken that very day, plucked from the floorboards one afternoon and dropped into the jar’s embalming fluid. There were rats from Poland, lizards from Spain and even a collection of giant bullfrogs from Argentina.

  “This place is giving me the creeps,” Lena complained as they came to the end of the room. “Let’s just say our goodbyes and get out of here,” she went on dragging Luke towards the hanging beads.

  “I think we’ll be facing something far creepier later, Lena,” Luke replied. For a second they both stood in silence looking into one another’s eyes. Lena was about to speak when Margaret walked through the hanging beads carrying a large jar with her.

  “Have you finished?”

  “Yes. We have, thank you,” Lena replied.

  “Very well. Before you go I just thought I’d show you one last specimen,” Margaret continued, walking to where the shelving finished. Pushing away several other specimens, she then carefully placed the new jar at the very end of the shelf. “My great grandfather fought in the Boer Wars, you know. He used to sit and tell my father the most wonderful tales. Have you heard of the Chituri?”

  Lena glanced towards Luke. In turn, Luke simply shrugged and said, “No, sorry. I don’t think we have.”

  “It was one of great grandfather’s favourite stories. My father would recite it to me every Christmas. You see, according to the Zulu Legend, the Chituri were a race of people unlike any other. They were, if you believed the legend, half man and half lizard.”

  Luke and Lena peered into the new jar. There were no animals to be seen this time.

  “Oh my God,” Lena exclaimed, suddenly recalling her episode with Elizabeth.

  “It’s one of them,” Luke whispered.

  The head within the jar stared back at them, its eyes black and soulless. From a distance it could have been mistaken for a human head. It was roughly the
same size, but on closer inspection, its scaly skin and greenish brown complexion would soon give the game away. Lena and Luke were now facing a strange, half-lizard, half-human skull. Margaret turned the jar slightly to allow for a better view, the large head inside bobbing gently against the jar’s glass.

  “Was it found in southern Africa?” Luke mumbled.

  Margaret smiled.

  “I’m afraid not young man. My father discovered this particular specimen not two miles from this very room.”

  “How long ago?” Lena enquired turning her eyes away from the jar.

  “Going on forty years now I expect. I think they’ve always been here, you see, in one form or another. People have always been too scared to speak out. My father found this one buried in the fields. He used to be a keen metal detectorist, you see. She was found with a gold necklace draped about her neck. I still have that piece somewhere around here.”

  She gave the jar a slight tap with her finger. Once again the head wobbled slightly within its makeshift prison.

  “You have a very dangerous mission ahead of you this evening. I wanted to give you both something.”

  From inside her apron pocket, Margaret pulled out a long knife.

  “Please. Take this. It belonged to my great grandfather. He used this very knife at Rourke’s Drift. It’s yours now. He told my father it had always brought him luck.”

  Margaret handed the knife to Lena. Its blade was in perfect condition even after all the years that passed. Its handle, long and thick, glittered with tiny encrusted diamonds.

  “It’s beautiful. Thank you so much Mrs Bellingham. I’ll take good care of it.”