He was cornered; he was positive that he had nowhere to go. The devil themself, the Phoenix, had him cornered. He backed up, tried to get away, but even he knew this was hopeless. They brandished their signature ax, heaving it up with almost unnatural strength. "I suppose you've found yourself in a bit of a pickle," they chuckled darkly.
"What have I done," he gulped, eyes watching every one of their movements. "What have I done to deserve this punishment?"
They smiled, a sickening, gut wrenching sight. "You really don't know who I am, do you, sir?" they spat, saying it venomously, as if it was a cuss.
"I am the Phoenix," they continued, advancing quickly towards him as he tried to get away.
"And you," they said disgustedly, swinging down the ax onto his leg, causing him to emit an animalistic scream. "Are vermin. Those two things.." They swung again, across his chest. "..just don't mix well."
Once positive that their business was done, they stood over him triumphantly, "Have a good night, detective." They exited the dark alleyway into the even darker night, leaving their dying victim behind.
YOU ARE READING
The Flames of the Phoenix
Mystery / ThrillerThis book is a prequel to the Westchester Square Murders, which is also by me. --- You've (presumably) read the story of Dan and Phil the detectives, now get ready to read about their predecessors! Lawrence Keaton and his team must work together to...
