The Eight Amulets, Vol. 1

𝐶ℎ𝑎𝑝𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝐼 － 𝑊𝑎𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑑

𝑃𝑎𝑟𝑡 𝑂𝑛𝑒

It was oddly quiet night during a particular November on Martha Lane, perfect for blood. Not like the neighborhood was very active amongst its small community of crusty wrinkled seniors, but something seemed off about that silent night except for the aggressive chirping of crickets and the whistles of locusts as the only illuminance in the entire neighborhood was apparent from the big moon.

Martha Lane was a quite tiny suburban neighborhood with dainty little cottages with creaking wood floorboards and rusted metal structuring. It wasn't exactly an ideal place to spend your retirement, but it sure was affordable and had beautiful surroundings.

Mr. Krause was much like the other residents in some ways. Of course he was as old as them, around 60 and still had frequent back pains. He lived in a shabby old house that was on the brink of collapsing into a heap of rubble. But the one most important thing that set him apart from his fellow neighbors was that he wasn't here for retirement, or even to find affordable housing. Mr. Krause was housing a dangerous secret. He was studying a magical force that was called The Eight Amulets.

Most people would dismiss Witchcraft as some crazy imaginary force that only existed in Harry Potter or the fabric of a child's brain. To Mr. Krause, this was not some silly lie. This was all as real as it could get.A few years back his wife, Jennifer Krause, had a sister with a terrible disease. No doctor could diagnose the sickness, and she was being studied by doctors from all around the world. The case soon became worldwide news and Mr. Krause started researching online. He started finding out that many people in the area of the New Jersey neighborhood, Springfield, which his Wife and Sister-in-law were grounded, had been poisoned with the disease. It was soon a plague, wiping the face of the dilapidated town west of the coast.Mr. Krause then set off in a long journey consisting of a trip to Michigan to collect information from another civilian interested in this disease. All his evidence had lead him too settling in a village in Michigan, where he scrambled through a box of messily neglected papers crusty and soggy inside the drawer of his bedside table. Bent on one knee, he packed papers into a meek cardboard box one-by-one.He knew it wouldn't take long before he was found at his homestead. The department of magic was notorious for being a ruthless arrangement of intelligent individuals. His only chance was his Remington, sprawled on the floor of his hallway. It was in terrible condition like most of his house.In a few minutes he would be pulled from his house in handcuffs and packed into a vintage car. He'd had a few run ins with the magic department, all of which ended terribly. He was wanted seriously and he knew that they wouldn't supply any mercy to the outlawed criminal. The department of magic didn't want there secretive items in the hands of regular humans, or for that anything remotely hinting at a magical race. Pop culture was the only exception.Mr. Krause was disappointed he would never get to finish his work, but maybe his wife could complete what he couldn't. He thought maybe before he was caught his papers could be salvaged in the basement compartment hidden under a rug. As he loaded the last sheets of paper into the heavy box, he slammed the drawer shut and dragged his feet to the living room.His room was still pretty bland and flakes of paint were peeling from the moldy wood. It smelled damp and the air conditioning was useless as it was broken. The only furniture was a red, plaid scratchy chair positioned in the corner.Flipping open a corner of the carpet revealed a trapdoor with a metal handle used to get a grip and lift up into a dusty small storage room. Light flooded the small basement for the first time in maybe 20 years, alarming the dust which started flying around. Mr. Krause tossed the box down and made a left thunk which echoed around the house.As he flipped the hatch down and pulled the carpet back down, an unsuspecting doorbell rang throughout the house. Butterflies filled Mr. Kraus' stomach as he looked backwards at the splintering door crawling with beetles and angry gnats swarming the light."Hello?" Krause recognized the familiar voice of the president of the department of magic. Allen McCarthy, the leader and businessman. He was a dictating little twat. "Are you home? We need to have a little talk. And don't think of playing any silly games with me.""We'll certainly." Krause snarled, struggling to lift himself from the choppy wooden floorboards. "I'll be there in a moment.""Make it snappy. I have things to do." Allen ordered, having another go at the doorbell. Trembling, Krause raced over to the hallway, where his Remington remained in place. He quickly checked the ammunition to make sure it was loaded. "Krause!""Can you wait?" Krause shouted. He switched the safety off before taking a deep breathe in and out. He made a change of plans at the last minute against the likes of being imprisoned by the snarky Allen McCarthy. It wasn't the smartest decision but it beats succumbing to his enemy."If you don't open this damn door I will force it down- Krause?" It took him a moment to process the sound of the door closing, and Krause had already bolted out the back door into his lawn. His car was parked a few feet from him and he reckoned he could escape without being caught. With a rush of adrenaline, he pulled a heavy car door open and slid into the front seat. His heart fluttered as he realized the car keys were left inside the house. How could he be so stupid?"Hello?" A voice boomed inside the house. Another associate of the department of magic was Zeus, a muscly strong figure with a hand of steel. His voice was obvious to sort out from the anyone else's since it was so deep.Annoying the brute, Kraus huffed and crept out from the car door, trying to catch a glimpse of anyone inside the house from the wide open door. With the gun equipped, he crouched down into the kitchen, where he spotted Socrates, another bodyguard like Zeus."Boss, check the room. His keys are still on the table." Socrates hinted as he admired the small key. With a nervous gulp, Kraus realized it was his perfect opportunity as he cocked the gun and before Socrates could see the cause of the click, a shot pummeled into his shoulder and he fell into the clash table, causing the glass to shatter into a thousand pieces."Socrates?" McCarthy anxiously called. Kraus rushed towards the glass mess and swiped a shiny key glistening in the lamp above them. He smiled at the fear present in Allen's voice as he started towards the open door leading into the pavement. Before he could reach the door, he heard a bullet zip into his thigh, causing him to groan in pain.McCarthy stood at the least 10 feet from the injured senior, blood spurting from his thigh. The blood formed a massive puddle of blood in his pants, but he was urged by the sight of his musty Toyota blue truck with rust covering most of the plating. "Not this time, bugger." McCarthy surged towards Kraus armed with a handgun, but Kraus was quick and the barrel of the Remington collided with his skull. McCarthy clutched his head as Kraus stormed from the building.Kraus was old but could still manage a mangled walk while blood dribble from his pants while he plugged the key into his car. With quick succession, he started the car up and reversed, bashing into trash cans, then carried on bulldozing into the street. He was recovering from the shock and failed to notice that the hood of his trunk made a large bang as it went up in flames.He could feel the heat through the glass windows while they slowly melted. His brain was overloading with information as he jabbed the car door open and it was too late by the time he attempted to scatter from his burning car. His last thoughts were cursing at himself for not playing this smart. Of course the department of magic booby-trapped his car, and an orange glow came hurling at him, and pain surrounded him.