I asked Carol and Keith if they understood the terms of the deal. Not once, not twice, not even thrice. I asked them four separate times, and I was very clear. I am always fair, and I am certain that they understood the price of their purchase. They told me so themselves, impatient and excitable.
I did not hold back any further. They assured me that they understood and so I allowed them to have what they wanted.
It was good quality merchandise. Excellent in fact, some of my best work. I handed them the merchandise with such pride, and they were overjoyed. I always tried to give my best to my customers, and that was why it was so disappointing when they didn't hold up their end of the bargain.
For the first few years, they made the payments on time, and I was satisfied. I didn't ask them for much, I knew that they couldn't provide much, and as I said, I am always fair. Still, despite the small price I asked of them, they'd whine and complain as if I was asking the world of them. They'd cry, plead for another way out, beg and weep, but I was never moved. I had been fair, and I had asked them again and again if they understood what was being asked of them.
It is not my fault that they overestimated their ability to pay their debt. I told them to be careful.
It was an easy payment plan to follow. One payment a year over eighteen years. This year was to be their sixth payment, and unfortunately, this is the year that they finally defaulted.
I waited and waited, growing impatient, just as they had done six long years ago, and at last, the clock struck midnight and October 1st was lost to the sands of time.
Their payment was late, so I had no choice but to repossess the merchandise. I told them that would happen.
When I arrived, the garden was littered with long deflated balloons and crumbled banners. They had been busy, but that was no excuse to ignore their obligations.
I told them, again and again, that there was no other way. Pay the price or else.
It was October 2nd and I was incensed. My pockets weighed heavy with the debt I was owed, and as I trudged through forgotten party favours in the damp grass, I gritted my teeth and clenched my claws.
Nobody double crossed Luxor and lived to tell the tale. I told them that too.
As I approached the house, I saw a little boy staring down from his bedroom window. His face, fractured in fear, matched the pale white of his curtains. He watched me lift from the ground, his big eyes following me as I ascended to his windowsill, tapping on his window with a wicked smile.
He wanted to run, I could tell, but the child was so frightened that his little legs were frozen. He gasped, gawping through the glass, his jaw wide open as tears sprang from his eyes.
As the boy stared back through the window, unable to tear his terrified eyes from me, he seemed to understand why I was there. Perhaps he didn't know the full story, but he could sense my interest in him. Perhaps he even recognised me. It had been a long time, but I have always thought that I had quite a memorable face.
He began to sob. His tears took over his whole body, sending him staggering backwards, shaking and shrieking so loudly that his screams sailed through the window, calling me like a song.
I flew at the glass, watching him stumble, tangled in his bed sheets as the glass scattered, cascading to the carpet. A light flickered on in the hallway, but they'd be too late. I lunged across the room, snatching the screaming sprog as his parents burst into the room.
Their faces were distorted by distress, terror tearing through them as the boy squealed and squirmed in my arms.
One soul a year in exchange for a son. That was all I asked. It didn't have to be clean. It didn't have to be willing. It just had to be sliced, diced and delivered to me by the end of the boy's birthday.
A simple price. A fair deal.
I had even given them a nice little knife to help them make their payments, and Keith held it high as he stared over at me. I laughed, at his audacity, and at the fear in his eyes.
A deal was a deal, and I had been very clear about the terms.
I smiled at my knife, watching it shimmer and shine in the moonlight. With a simple nod, it flew from his hands, slicing and dicing my debtors, before falling to the ground with a clatter. Blood flooded the cream carpet as I leapt from the window to take my merchandise home.
Nobody double crossed Luxor and lived to tell the tale. I told them that.
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