We both opened our eyes at the sound of someone loudly clearing their throat. A man stood behind us. Could have been handsome were it not for the lifeless eyes he exposed when he pulled the shades from his face. Was that a maggot swaying in his empty sockets? Mischief curled his lips. Evil pulsed from every fiber of his being. Only one person could hold that much vile within a thing of beauty.
I opened my mouth to speak, but my breath caught in my throat. A silver chain dangled from his hand with a cross and the familiar custom made "Q" commissioned to Father Quanon. The holy scriptures normally surrounding the charm had to have been broken. The once lively ink coursing through the letter's curves swirled dull, clinging to life...much like Drakar's eyes.
"Father Quanon..." slipped from my lips, just above a whisper.
Drakar's voice grated against my hearing though it may have sounded smooth to a normal person. "Your life for his, Red Riding Hood. Deal's only good til midnight. Then his soul is mine."
Drakar tossed the chain. I caught it midair. The ink still swirled so Father Quanon was still alive. But for how long?****
What happened with Father Quanon? Will she take Drakar's deal?