Monday, 30 September 2013

REDD: Storm Wings (part 2)

Emery grabbed his coat and pulled it on. "What weapons do you think I should take, Edwin?"
Ruedalow looked at his small friend, "Just a gun. Mrs Tailor sounds safe enough but you never know."
Mrs Tailor was the lady who had sent the letter.
"What makes you think she sounds safe enough?" Inquired David, who was busy reloading the detectives guns.
"The fact she's written a shopping list on the back and left a 'PS' saying, 'please can I have the letters back Misters Ruedalow and Emery because my shopping list is on the back.'" Ruedalow quoted.
Emery laughed and took the gun from the mail room boy. Rolling the revolver cartridge, he raced up the steps. Ruedalow snatched his Beretta and hurried after his assistant. Out of the fifth room they ran, then up another set of steps, followed by a rush through the several different and then hailed a cab to Mrs Tailors address. They sat down in the carriage and Ruedalow explained their destination. Emery retrieved a bingo pen from his pocket and traced a symbol onto the roof. He left it three seconds and then announced, "It's safe to talk."
"I hate Victorian London." Replied Ruedalow.
"Why? What could you possibly hate about this place? No diesel fumes, no track suit bottoms and no reality television!"
"No reality television? There's no television full stop! And as for diesel fumes, I'd prefer them over the constant smell of horse manure and raw sewage. This whole place is full of misery and woe and to be truthful, there isn't a reason why we are here! Name one reason why we are here? Name one!"
"Because the 1800s are the beginning of the evolution of the dragons! Dragons have always existed of course but after some point in the 1800s everything changes! Nobody knows which point and it was unlikely that anyone would ever find out but then you come along and suddenly bestselling author, researcher, scientist and half gnome genius, Johnathan Emery can relive the full a hundred years as he wants! That's why we're here and as for television, I did buy you a DVD player and that show- doctor what was it?- to watch! Now stop complaining, we're almost there."
"Have you ever noticed how most conversations end perfectly on the point of the arrival?"

Emery ignored this and cocked his gun. They climbed out of the carriage and payed the cab handsomely. They then proceeded to walk across the pavement and then gave a small knock on the door of the little house. A few seconds later, the door creaked open and an elderly woman welcomed them in. "Here's your letter Mrs Tailor," said Ruedalow as he passed the letter to the client, "I took the liberty to change the list slightly as some of the things can be bought for cheaper at different shops. And this thing about wanting good coffee, I'd thoroughly recommend a small coffee bar in a place called Mort-"
"Yes well we are here on business." Interrupted Emery.
"Of course of course!" Cried Ruedalow. "Where did you see this night wyvern then?"
"In my back garden actually." Answered Mrs Tailor.
"Really?" Asked Emery. "I've been study them a lot and I've never known them to come so clos-" He didn't finish his sentence as they walked into the kitchens which had been burnt to a cinder. "Ah." He looked onwards and studied the trail of disintegrated gardens. As a true hunter would tell you, if you're hunting rabbits, you'll need to follow the pushed down trail of grass at the boarder of the area the rabbits are in, and that'll lead you to the burrow. When hunting dragons, all you need to do is follow the piles of burning ash. Simple.
"When did it come?" Asked Ruedalow.
"Three nights ago."
"Are you the only magician on the street or are there more?" Asked Emery.
"About two. The rest of the street thinks that it's just some arsonist but I knew different the moment I saw it emerging from its lair."
"Lair?" Cried Emery.
"Why yes. It's hiding in one of the sewer tunnels down near the river."
Emery drew his gun, as did Ruedalow, and they raced out of the house without further ado. Their coats flapped in the breeze and their hats stuck firmly on their heads. To the sewers they ran, with guns in hand!

No comments:

Post a Comment