EPILOGUE
The room was dark the only light source was a small lamp placed on the upper corner of the desk. Outside the wind howled and beat angrily on the walls.
With a sigh the man placed his papers down on the desk and removed his glasses, rubbing his eyes wearily. With a head full of black hair and eyes still bright with curiosity the only sign of his true age were the lines that ran across his face.
A quiet rapping at the door caused him to quickly turn over the papers, hiding their contents from the intruder. "Yes?"
A maid timidly pokes her head in the door. "I'm sorry to bother you Professor, but you have visitors."
"Visitors?" He questions.
"Yes sir, they say they've travelled far to see you."
"Are you sure they aren't lost?"
"No sir, they've asked for you by name."
"Very well, seat them in the living room I will be down shortly to sort this out, it's obviously some sort of mix up."
"Yes sir." The maid leaves and closes the door quietly.
The Professor grumbles as he clears his papers away, locking them in their secret drawer and slipping the key into his pants pocket.
As he enters his living room he see's the three men sitting comfortably. The ring leader is obvious, he sits the most at ease and lazy smile playing on his lips, his blonde hair pushed to the side out of his icy eyes. On either side of him sitting still as statues are two men. All three are well dressed making the room look even more drab and bare than usual by comparison. Well dressed thugs, but thugs just the same, the Professors decides about the ringleader's choice of company.
The blond man stands gracefully and extends a hand to the Professor, "So nice to see you, Professor."
The Professor takes the mans hand, a little taken aback. "I'm sorry, are you quite sure you've got the right place? I haven't had visitors in a very long time, nor was I expecting any."
The blond man smiles easily, "I'm very sure we're in the right place. It's nice to finally put a face to the name and stories."
"Stories? Do I know you?"
The man gestures for the Professor to take the seat across from him. "We haven't officially met, no, but my father speaks highly of you."
"And who is your father?" The Professor inquires and he sinks obediently into the offered seat.
For the first time, the statues show signs of life, glaring at the Professor as if he had said something offensive. The one sitting to the left hands begins to twitch irritably.
The blond man waves a hand lazily and they still back into statues again. "How rude of me to assume you'd recognized me after all this time. It has been many years."
He stands and begins unbuttoning his shirt, revealing a fierce looking lions head baring its teeth inked in red across his chest.
The Professor jolts, "Surely you're not? This cannot be, can it? The Lion's son?"
The blond man chuckles as he takes his seat again, "It seems the cub has grown up, hey?" He jokes working at his buttons.
"Still, I can't imagine what would bring you here to me? Is your father well?"
"The Lion is fine. He's getting ready for retirement you know? And I'm getting ready to take over the family business as it were."
"Retire? I can't see The Lion ever doing that."
The man shrugs, "Being the top smuggler and merchant on the black market isn't easy, even for a younger man. It gets more brutal and ruthless every day. My father is a smart man he see's the wisdom in handing over the reigns."
"Well none of us are getting any younger that's true."
The blond man leans forward, "As for why we're here, the old Lion thinks as he gets ready to step down that it is important to honour those who proved to be uh, helpful to him over the years."
The Professor nods along, but averts his eyes at the last comment.
"He sent me with this," The man pulls out a small ring box out of his jacket pocket and offers it to the Professor.
Automatically the Professor accepts the offering and opens the lid with a gasp. Inside snuggled in velvet is a handsome golden ring with a red jewel in the centre. The jewel manages to catch the light even in the dull sitting room.
"I couldn't...really I couldn't. This is far too much."
"You must. The old man insists."
"Well...thank you very much, tell him how pleased I am to accept such a generous offer." The Professor makes a move to close the box and pocket the ring, secretly puzzling out where in his yard he can bury the hateful reminder of his wicked past.
"Wait." The blond man commands.
The Professor pauses, giving him a questioning look.
"Put it on."
"Excuse me?"
In a tone that brooks no argument, "You have to put it on. The old man insists that I stay until I see you wear his present, and I do hate to lie to him."
The Professor looks down at the ring, trying to rearrange his face to hide the repulsion at the thought of putting such a thing on his finger.
The two statues come to life again, both stirring restlessly as if hoping he will resist and give them an excuse to end this boring house call with some fun.
"Put it on, now." The man is no longer smiling and his icy eyes are burning coldly.
Hastily, the Professor shoves the ring onto his right finger.
The mans expression instantly brightens. "Perfect, the old man would have been very pleased."
'Would?"
"Oh yes. Before I killed him to take his crown and throne that is. Now show me where you are hiding them Professor."
The Professor jumps to his feet, the panic clear on his face. Too late he has discovered the danger that he let into his house. His head swivels left and right as he desperately tries to find an escape.
"Tut, tut. Well please remember that I did ask you to help me willingly first." His eyes flash red before he commands, "Show me where you're little experiments are, now."
The expression on the Professors face goes blank, his eyes dull as his jaw goes slack. Without a word or a struggle he rises and leads the strangers towards his study. The blond man follows close behind, his eyes taking in every movement as the Professor removes the key from his pocket and unlocks the secret drawer with his jealously guarded papers inside. Gathering them he turns and deposits them into the mans waiting hands.
The man greedily reads the papers, his expression becoming more and more joyful. He discards some but keeps others, letting the rejects flutter to the floor. Soon he has only 5 sheets in his hand. After a half hour of deliberation and going back and forth between them he settles on one. Turning it around to show the others in the room, he shows them his final candidate. In the top left corner of the sheet a picture of a little girl is clipped. The girl has curly pink hair and startling red eyes and is wearing a wide smile. "Her" he says with chilling finality.