《Slaying Monsters for Dummies》


 1.1 Friday Night – Seren - Ten Kilometers North of Atlantic City

    All paths are black. Not literally mind you. This part of Suburbia is still lit by the yellow glare of tired lamp posts. Nevertheless, all paths are black.


    Seren does her best to push raspy breaths out of her tired lungs and ignore the pain in her feet. Flat boots are definitely not meant for long distance running. She also does her best to ignore Milo although this is getting more difficult by the minute.


    ¡°What the fuck¡­ Is wrong¡­ With you?!¡±


    ¡°I told you I saw someone¡±


    Milo starts to ask questions but Seren ignores him. Once the way to their rented house had switched to black, she had turned around to reach the main road going south to Atlantic city and the relative safety of cars passing by. On her way, all paths had darkened faster than she could run. Black has been the color to avoid since she started seeing paths two months ago. Black leads to hard men with hungry eyes, drunk drivers, falling things. Pain and death. Now all paths are dark and that can¡¯t be good, even if the sound of their footsteps is still the only thing breaking the silence.


    Think.


    If she cannot get to the main road in a straight line then she needs to think outside the box, because all paths means that either someone is after her, or a meteorite is about to flatten five blocks of New Jersey residential area. The October night is clear so apparently the district would not be renovated just quite yet.


    Seren switches her focus, looking for another option. A lighter path appears on her left just as the beginning of a headache hits. She ignores the inviting way ahead and runs along a low wall to a small garden gate. Behind it she can see tall trees and a two stories house. No lights. She pushes the handle and the gate opens, just as she knew it would. Her peripheral vision catches movement before she rushes in, dragging Milo behind her. To his credit he has stopped bitching.


    ¡°I saw it too.¡±


    Glad to know she is not hallucinating. Very comforting. They sprint past a locked front door, feet slipping on an unkempt lawn and a garage locked tight. There would be no sanctuary here. Finally, the back of the house. It¡¯s a dead end, there would be no egress either.


    No, focus.


    The paths leading back were black but a clearer one went over another low wall topped with a wire mesh fence loose enough that it could be scaled. She uses her momentum to jump on it, her arms reaching the top. Her feet make a little dance until she finds a hold and with a supreme effort, she hauls her ass over the top, spreading the content of her handbag on the ground in front of her. As she falls, the screech ripping fabric sounds the requiem for her all-time favorite bomber jacket. Dammit.


    She turns around to see Milo hesitate. He has his cell phone in hand which is emitting a pale light in the darkness. If blood was not rushing in her ear, Seren was pretty sure she would hear a calm voice asking her about her emergency. Milo must have seen the desperation in her face because he puts the phone in his blazer and launches himself. Milo who has a sharp wit and good flexibility. Milo who she can beat in an arm wrestle even though the only iron she lifts is in her fencing foil. Milo grips the metal wiring and struggles up, his face a mask of pain and effort. She has to help him, to do something! She reaches to him, placing her finger under his feet in a pitiful attempt to lift him, the only result being more pain when he crunches them against the unyielding metal. She looks behind him and sees the frame of a man walking calmly to them. Adrenaline floods her systems, she bangs her fists against the cold barrier, powerless. Milo slips and falls back on the deserted lawn.Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.


    There is no time left.


    He turns to face the incoming threat. Slow as a dream, a man of small stature wearing a black leather jacket opened on a lean chest walks to them. Seren watches his pallid face, black eyes and ugly smirk as he approaches, then the impossible happens. With incredible speed, the man grabs her loved one by the throat, and in a lazy motion, rips it out.


    Just like that.


    In a single instant.


    Seren sees her reality shatter in a geyser of arterial blood. Milo¡¯s eye are fixed on her, uncomprehending. This is a nightmare. It can¡¯t be real. She hears a scream and only barely realizes the voice is hers. Horror and shock fill her. Death is on TV, it does not happen to normal people just like this.


    It happens to other people.


    Milo¡¯s eyes glaze, he falls. His killer puts a hand on the fence.


    ¡°No!¡±


    Seren turns around, panicked. Milo¡¯s blood has splashed on her hand. No time to do anything. All paths are black as night and the reason for it stands in front of her. There is a second man, or is it a man? He looks disfigured, grotesque, something out of a dark tale. She is done, she would die here on the backyard of some rich asshole¡¯s summer home, and cops would come in the morning to poke her cold corpse over doughnuts and coffee. This is a nightmare. She will wake up any minute.


    No, fuck that, she would not give up, not give the freak show in front of her the satisfaction of an easy kill. The doughnut cops would see signs of struggle and say that she did not lie down without a fight. Yeah that¡¯s comforting. Seren only has a few seconds to act, she rakes her addled brain for a solution. She stands in the back of another cozy house, on her left lay the foundations of a small building, possibly a garden hut or something. There is no rocket launcher or tank handy though. The grotesque man takes a step forward. All paths are still black. But wait, she is no longer trying to escape, she is trying to fight.


    Seren switches her focus again, the slight headache turning into a head-splitting migraine. There, on the side of a cement mixer, a few tools. Seren jumps back, the creature following her slowly, sure of its power. She reaches for something to use and her hand find the blade of a circular saw. She grabs it. It is heavy and cold in her hand. The path becomes clearer. She waits, then throws. The blade goes slightly off and the thing sidesteps it easily. It was so close. In desperation, she grabs for something else, anything. Intuition guides her hand to a solid and heavy shaft. She swings with all her might, putting her fear and anger in the strike. It occurs to her that she had found a pickaxe when the tool catches her opponent mid head.


    With a sickening crunch, the pick penetrates flesh and bone and then stops. The thing howls in pain, its hands clutching its right cheek where the metal has been buried. It recoils and Seren loses her grip. She has to take the chance, use it while the thing is down. She grabs something again, her headache becoming almost blinding and swings. This time, a shovel connects with the thing¡¯s shoulder, she hits again, and again. She screams her rage, her grief and her will to live. On the third blow, the creature moves forward with blinding speed and backhands her.


    Seren feels herself moving backward, then to the right after the small of her back connects with the cement mixer, then she hits the wall. Pain would be coming then, anytime¡­ Anytime. Blinding agony sears her back, her left shoulder, something warm and liquid drips down her neck. The area around her left ear is just a massive spot of hurt. She tries to scream, to release it all, but only a raspy moan comes out. She should move, but she can¡¯t. Nausea overwhelms her and she leans to the side to heave. Too much pain. As the thing angrily extracts the pickaxe from its face, she comes to the bitter conclusion that they have been playing with her, that from the beginning she hadn¡¯t stood a chance.


    Poor Milo, he hadn¡¯t stood a chance either. Oh God it hurts so much. And her jacket is ruined, and her bag. They were two of the last precious things she had left. An angry face comes close, black blood trickling lazily from a huge hole on the side. Terminal case of the uglies on this one. Another face, pallid and cruel, comes and says something in a guttural voice. The angry face retreats. She had an emotional attachment to that jacket, it had cost a bit under a thousand bucks, a gift from Mom. Is her shoulder broken? It feels broken. Poor Milo. As the cruel face grabs her under the armpit, she finally faints.

 Arc 1 Dragged in.

    When do you become a team? A couple? When do you become an adult?


    There can be defining moments, or it can be such a seamless transition that you do not remember when it happened, but when you realized it had happened. For you it can be the first time holding hands, but for your love it would be that first afternoon when you talked together for three hours straight, never feeling that time was passing.This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it


    When did you first lose someone?


    When did you realize that one day you would die?


    When did your world collapse?


    The most painful moments are surreal because the world should stop. The skies should open and rain down on everything just like tears are running down your chin, despite your best efforts. Nobody should be able to smile, everything should be subdued, or giving you space and privacy, mourning with you. The world should stop, but it doesn¡¯t. The world doesn¡¯t care, but some people do.

 1.2 Friday Afternoon – Nathan – Hallows Residential District

    Reality has this vibrant quality to it when one faces a life-changing (or ending) moment. All colors appear vividly, all sounds magnified. Time seems to stop. Of course, this is an illusion, a last-ditch effort by the brain to try and notice everything and anything that might save your sorry ass. The truth is that you are not faster, nor stronger, and just as screwed as you were before.


    Nathan¡¯s eyes dart left and right, past the multicolored lines of neatly parked suburbans, the cookie cut rows of identical houses, the firestorm of autumn leaves on the street and straight into the thing standing in the middle of it. Nathan is having an epiphany. His colleague Sarah¡¯s babble of insults barely registers on his consciousness and his full attention is dedicated to the thing, and his new sense. His new sense is telling him that what stands in front of him is a thing of swamp and death.


    Cold. Unforgiving. Inhuman.


    Inhuman.


    There is too much too consider, too much that he doesn¡¯t understand. With a supreme effort, Nathan focuses his attention on the now. Sarah is holding her phone and mentioning things like ¡°sorry ass in jail¡±, now that he pays attention, it does look human. Barely. It is standing almost as high as him, about five foot ten , although somewhat stooped, as if It could be much taller. Its face is large, ugly and misshapen, its chin is too forward and is supporting a mouth that is too large, above a long and bulbous nose, and small dark eyes. Its auburn and grey hairs sprout from its scalp like desert grass and its skin is the greyish tint of really sick people. It is also wearing a dark T shirt, a jean with holes in it and ruined sneakers.


    Besides a general air of decay and total lack of respect for self or basic hygiene, the thing¡¯s most noticeable feature is its world class creepy stare. Sarah remains undaunted but the thing just keeps staring so it looks like violence would be inevitable. Violence. Nathan cannot help the cold dread that creeps up his spine, making him stiff and turning his hands into shaky wrecks. Funny how seeing violence on TV or in video games should numb you but when confronted to it one finds it hard to react.


    Thankfully, when Sarah mentioned a stalker at the end of her shift, Nathan knew he had to come prepared, so he reaches into his hoodie and paws option B. Sarah, he¡¯s going to attack. Nathan does not know for sure how he knows, but he knows. He also knows that the thing will attack him because, well it¡¯s staring at him as if he were made out of bacon. He is proud that his voice is only slightly off.


    "Go. Now."


    He pushes her lightly on the shoulder and Sarah mechanically moves to her yard gate on Nathan¡¯s right, seeking shelter. After a second of hesitation, the monster finally makes its choice and lunges forward, hands aiming at Nathan¡¯s neck. Nathan moves his hand by a fraction and pulls option B¡¯s trigger.


    Nitrogen launch two barbed darts that bury themselves deep under the filthy T-shirt. Contorted rage turns to surprise, then pain as the thing falls on the ground, shrieking like a banshee as the electric gun¡¯s high intensity current fries his nerve endings.


    For a good ten seconds, Nathan only stares as it convulses in shock, then whatever fueled the current stops. For a brief instant, the street is filled with a surreal calm. Nothing moves, not even the trees. This looks so much like a horror movie that Nathan half expects the thing to play dead so it can grab his leg and turn him into exhibit A for the FBI investigation.This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    The thing moves a hand.


    Slowly, almost lazily, the thing sits up and looks at Nathan. Its gaze is one of sheer hatred, dark and unforgiving. Pain, humiliation, despair. With a glance, the creature promises all of it and more. Nathan has never faced this intensity of feeling before and it makes him shudder. What must one do to warrant this aggression, this¡­ Grudge?


    Nathan steps back as the creature slowly squats. Its claw like hand grabs the nearest car¡¯s door, leaving a furrow in the bright paint.


    It¡¯s decision time.


    Nathan sprints toward Sarah¡¯s yard gate, still open. In an instant, the creature leaps but falls short, still numbed by the shock. Nathan is in the yard, pulls the gate closed behind him. The creature¡¯s second lunge ends in a metallic clang against the sturdy metal frame. Then, climbing noise. This was just a respite. Nathan scans the small yard. Short grass dotted with children¡¯s toys, the entrance door shut tight.


    There is a metal dumpster tucked against the wall. Nathan uses his momentum to jump on the dumpster and then, over the wall and out of the yard. His knees scrap against the hard stone but with a supreme effort, he is over. In the yard the thing screams. Nathan is now in the street perpendicular to the one he was before. There are no hiding places, no obvious weapon.


    On a hunch, Nathan decides to circle back to where he came from. As he reaches the corner he hears a frustrated yowl behind him. Spotted. So much for the mind games. Nathan runs. There are gouges on Sarah¡¯s gate. Unbelievable. He needs something, anything. On his left there is an empty beer bottle on an electric box. He grabs it, but this is not a weapon. Not against this. A diversion? At the next crossing Nathan risks a look back. The thing is running at him in a strange gait, gaining ground. It¡¯s faster than a cheetah on steroids. This will be a close call. Nathan turns left again. This street is much shorter. It is not long before the next intersection. He turns left a final time. He has circled the entire block.


    Timing.


    Nathan jumps on a car, then on its roof, his momentum carrying him on and up. At the apex of the jump, he whirls on himself and throws. There is a beautiful instant when gravity seems to lose its hold and the glass decoy reflects the pale light. Then reality comes knocking. As the thing finally emerges from behind the wall, he lands and rolls while a clear shattering sound hopefully drives attention elsewhere. Nathan crouches. The smell of asphalt is the only thing he can pick up but he knows there is little time. Hugging the line of cars he flees away, away from the thing. Finally, he hears something he did not expect: snorts. Using a car for cover he risks a glance back.


    The thing is on all fours. A hunched form sniffing the ground like a hound. Unbelievable. Nathan swears the thing felt his stare on its back. It turns its head and yowls. Nathan starts running again. This doesn¡¯t look good. Nathan has no weapon, he cannot hide. The thing is faster than him and he is already beginning to tire. He needs shelter, but where? He doesn¡¯t know this part of the city. Need to keep running. And then he hears rather than see salvation. Salvation is coming from the right. Nathan risks a last look back.


    Now or never.


    He reaches the next intersection mere instants before the thing. Nathan jumps up, the thing lunges at him. For an instant, it looks like he will fall short. Then his foot catches a metal roof and he moves on again. Destabilized, he lands and try to catch his balance, turning just in time to see the surprised look on the face of the thing while half a ton of sedan rams into it. Brakes screech and the thing falls down.


    Nathan stares helplessly. He is spent. If the thing keeps coming, he doesn¡¯t know what he can do. The thing sits up in the slow and careful way that screams ¡°blunt force trauma¡±. In its dark eyes there is something more: fear. Then it hops away. A fifty something woman steps out from the blue sedan, she is tastefully dressed and her prim face is marked by disbelief.


    ¡°What the fuck¡­¡±


    Nathan could not have put it better himself.

 1.3 Friday Night – Nathan – Hallows precinct

    Nathan stares at the spot on the wall of the police station¡¯s waiting room. From here it vaguely looks like a fallen tree. Or a dog being violently sick. He can¡¯t tell. Nathan tries to rest comfortably in the plastic seat. His ass hurts, as does his shoulder and the room does not help his mood. The place is still mostly empty this early in the evening, as even the most desperate alcoholic has apparently not reached the wife beating stage yet, but the numberless multicolor leaflets, some of them showing children faces and ¡°Have you seen this person?¡± are sad enough. The entire room is forlorn and smells of wary despair and bad coffee.


    Nathan shudders.


    Sarah turns her delicate face to him. Her voice, much lower than one would expect from such a tiny frame sounds forced


    ¡°I¡¯m so happy I took a video, there is no way the cops would believe you chased down a stalker with that cute face of yours.¡±


    Nathan stares at her with mock outrage. Sarah is, well, adorable, with elfin features, big brown eyes and a waterfall of wavy back hair, but she has basically shown more courage than him during the whole affair, since she had not actually lost her nerve.


    Nathan wishes someone would call him handsome for once but it looks like this will not happen today. She is right, his face is more cute than virile and his build is that of a runner.


    ¡°Hey I can look dark and broody when I want¡±.


    "Nah having dark eyes does not make a dark look."


    Nathan lets the casual banter calm him down a bit but the questions remain. Did he dream that feeling? Where is that stalker/monster now? Why in the name of fuck did he not run when the thing was on the ground as the stun gun notice urged instead of staring at it like a brainless fuckwit, saving him the trouble of playing suburban parkour? When could he finally drive home and take a long shower?


    After a few minutes they sit in front of an officer¡¯s desk. Nathan lets Sarah describe the encounter from her perspective and she gradually relaxes. The officer, a tall pale guy with close cropped red hair and a tired face, listens with obvious attention. The man himself gives off a vibe of quiet competence despite his exhaustion. The fact that he looks attractive in a safe guy next door sort of way has a salutary effect on Sarah. When prompted, she transfers the video to his antiquated desk computer and he starts it in silence.If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.


    Nathan watches his reaction. The man hasa good poker face but, reading people is Nathan¡¯s job: he is shocked when he sees the stalker though he masks it well, even more interesting is his reaction to something that had escaped Nathan¡¯s notice. After only a few seconds, he pauses the video and zooms on the monster¡¯s collar. Despite the poor resolution Nathan is able to make out a tattoo out of the pixelated blur.


    The officer resumes the video, looking thoughtful. As the show ends with Nathan¡¯s ghostly face, he is pleased to notice that he just looks scared instead of just about to shit himself as he expected. Nathan feels vaguely comforted before realizing it means he cares that the police officer does not see him as a wimp.


    "You know him?"


    The officer, who according to the notice on his desk answers to Martin Henkel, raises his eyes to him and his hand to his mouth as if thoughtful. Nathan recognizes a defensive gesture. He evades by asking another question.


    ¡°And you are?¡±


    ¡°I am a friend of Sarah, we work at the same place. My name is Nathan Mordred Turner, please call me Nathan.¡±


    ¡°Your middle name is Mordred?¡±


    Nathan gets that a lot so he gives him the usual answer.


    ¡°Yes my parents were into knights and Middle Ages stuff.¡±


    ¡°But why not Percival or Gawain?¡±


    Now that is more unusual, not that many people are familiar with the Knights of the Round Table. Besides Lancelot.


    ¡°I guess you will have to ask them.¡±


    He says that with a smile but the cop takes the hint.


    The rest of the interview is uneventful. Officer Henkel asks her if she had met him before, she had once, and they talked about restraining orders and other legal recourse. Nathan does not pay much attention; he is more concerned about what he has seen. That Henkel had recognized the guy, or at least he had recognized the tattoo. Although he was increasingly certain that stalker had just been human, that his panic had been induced by the pressure of being in a genuinely dangerous confrontation for the first time ever, Nathan could not shake the feeling that something weird was going on.


    In the end Sarah makes a legal complaint and has an officer drive her home, but not before profusely thanking Nathan and promising her very best homemade blintz. Nathan belatedly realizes she thinks he has saved her life, and maybe he has. Feeling like a manly hero and with the perspective of future gastronomical rewards, Nathan decides that today was a good day and heads home.

 1.4 Saturday - Nathan - Home

    Nathan wakes softly to the pale light of fall¡¯s morning sun. Around him, the old house creaks and groans as if in greeting and a warm weight on his chest tells him that his on and off roommate is paying him a visit. After a good ten seconds savoring the feeling of the mattress¡¯ warm embrace, Nathan stands up and curses and blames past Nathan for agreeing to go for a run with Ambrose.


    The old house is not completely his. A two storied affair sitting in the middle of the woods half an hour from central Hallows (such as it were), it had been in the family for a century and currently belongs to him at least on paper. He lives there rent free but for taxes, utility and having to protect the clearing and garden from the ever encroaching forest, with the implicit obligation that large family gathering would take place here. It feels like home. When someone drives into the clearing for the first time they can see it standing in the middle like an old lady taking the sun. A front deck with a multitude of chairs speaks of summer grills with the family, and the wooden fa?ade tells of age. The guest would then enter the house on the first floor and find stairs leading up up and down, a recently renovated kitchen and a huge living room with an old oak table that could seat fifteen people. The second floor is home to three bedrooms and two bathrooms and the basement and attic are mostly for storage. The furniture looks like they have been accumulated over a century, which they have, with only the strongest chairs surviving through a process of large ass resistance based natural selection. The general feeling is one of a family house well lived in but without more people it feels a bit cold.


    Looking out the kitchen window to the front deck and his car, Nathan thinks about what had happened yesterday. He wants to believe that fear played a major role in turning an addict into a monster it was not. Yes, it was probably that, just an addict in the middle of a dangerous high.


    Probably.


    A mewl makes him look down. Bismarck the stray bumps his head against Nathan¡¯s leg in a show of affection coupled with a wrestling move. Bismarck is absolutely enormous and Nathan will never forget the first time he had fed him fish only to find a dead rat the size of small dog on his mat the next morning. A favor for a favor. Bismarck purrs in appreciation of an ear scratch before exposing his belly in the traditional cat hand-slicer move.


    ¡°No thanks¡± Nathan wisely comments before retreating to prepare for the run.


    Forty minutes later and ten kilometers away, Ambrose runs up to Nathan as he finishes his stretching. He is twenty minutes late, as usual. He looks red in the face and decently embarrassed.


    ¡°I¡¯m so sorry man, I had a call from my boss and I really could not tell him off, I¡¯ll make it up to you I swear.¡±


    Nathan feigns a scowl before granting Ambrose forgiveness. Ambrose is often late because of his duties and Nathan just decided to work around his schedule and besides it would feel really low to scream at a guy who labors during the weekend for free and for the government, no less.


    ¡°Next beer is on you¡± says Nathan before starting.


    The two walk away from Hallows Memorial Entrance. A long walkway circles Hallows only park, with around half dedicated to the history of the region. Patches of local flora with notes explaining their properties alternate with historical buildings dating back to the region¡¯s earliest colonization or weaving industry period. The place itself is just nice and makes the run just a bit less awful. The added bonus is the other runners.Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    Nathan notices that Ambrose is already starting to stare at spandex clad posteriors and decides to direct the conversation before Ambrose starts grading them. As usual, Ambrose is dressed to kill and probably wears five hundred bucks in elegant sportswear. Nathan does not even bother because he knows that within an hour he will be sweaty, red in the face and breathing like an anvil. Ambrose is not only six feet tall, he is also a very serious runner and Nathan will attempt to match his speed then fail.


    Momentarily distracted, Ambrose starts a slow jog and details with a knowing smile how he managed to bullshit his way through having his love interest be assigned to the project he is currently managing. As Ambrose explains each step of his machination, Nathan wonders wether he should kill him now to save the US from a future evil president or just plan his own escape to Nicaragua. After a while though, Ambrose stops talking. As this is the signal that shit just got real, Nathan focuses on long strides, breathing and keeping pace.


    The both of them fall into a routine and soon they reach the furthest corner of the walk. That is when Nathan stumbles as his new sense screams at him.


    Expecting certain death, Nathan sees his life flash before his eyes and regrets not calling his mom more often and that he forgot to return that library book back in seventh grade. He quickly regains control of himself and scans the surroundings. Between him and the wall surrounding the park there are but a few trees with bare branches. The undergrowth is reduced to a minimum with the season. In the distance, he can catch a glimpse of a mill replica. Besides him and Ambrose who now wears a worried expression, there is just a depressed looking couple and an obese man trotting with a grim expression. Everything is quiet. There is no place to hide. So why?


    ¡°Are you alright there man?¡±


    ¡°Yeah yeah just a weird feeling in my leg, you go on ahead¡±


    Ambrose goes on with a last look and Nathan does his best to bring his heartbeat down and stop panicking. Deep breathes.


    As fear recedes and his heartbeat slows, his consciousness expands like a screen come to life. Colors, in bright hues ranging from peaceful green to the fiery red of dying leaves appear left and right in all shapes. Carried by the wind, wet earth and tree smells caress his nose. Looking at tree branches show them to be asleep, yet expectant. Roots reach below his feet from everywhere and here and there, there are creatures walking, flying and jumping. Behind this display there is an overarching feeling of life, expectation and ¡­ just a touch of anger.


    Perception pops like a bubble and the distant sounds of city life rush back. This isn¡¯t it. This isn¡¯t it at all. The Stalker was a thing of cold, rot and death, a predator whose malice was so strong it was clear falling in its claw would be a fate worse than death. This is wild life, nature. He will not die today. Well at least not within the next five minutes.


    The stunning realization of what just happened hits Nathan like a wall. He is experiencing a new sense for the second time in two days, and that leads to the most logical conclusion.


    Nathan is insane


    Although, come to think of it, Nathan remembers the face of the woman who had totaled the stalker, he also remembers what he had seen while walking back to Sara¡¯s home: claw marks on the wall.


    Nathan approaches a tree where he felt something move. On the lower branch, a small brown bird stares at him, unmoving.


    Maybe, just maybe he is not crazy.


    That leaves option two, as mad as it sounds: monsters exist. And there is probably one around.


    By corollary: he can feel monsters and¡­ Whatever it is he is currently feeling.


    And lastly, if monsters exist then what else does?


    Nathan knows he should feel fear or certainly be confused, however what he feels now is a strange mix of elation and disbelief, like a kid who thinks he discovered a hidden chest but not quite sure yet if it is real.


    The potential implications are numerous but there is one overarching priority: Nathan needs to protect himself because the stalker had seen him, and for that, he needs to know more. Besides, if he is in fact insane, a possibility he has not completely discarded yet, better to know sooner rather that later. If he plans well he could possibly choose the wallpaper on his padded room.


    In any case, the summer feel comes from beyond the wall of the park and that means the Salt Spring shopping area. This is where he will start to investigate.


    Might as well finish that run.

 1.5 Just a bit later.

    An hour later, at the entrance of the Memorial Park, stand two people. One of them is healthily pink and goes through stretching motions while casually staring at the passing female ass. The second one is actively trying not to die and currently looks like a sweaty hobo.


    Ambrose and Nathan agree to a drink on Wednesday and split. Nathan walks back to his grey Ford Escape and grabs a sweater and a bottle of water then goes hunting.


    The Salt Spring Area used to be filled with half derelict Victorian houses. Ten years ago, a local group with the support of the Hallows township had acquired a large swath of land in an effort to create a living town center. Some companies had come and gone, but overall the place had lasted  by being half decent and also by being the only real social meeting point in a twenty miles radius. On a Saturday morning it was bustling with activities with many Hallows denizens resupplying on locally made foodstuff and delicacies. Nathan takes note of a bakery offering discounts on home made bacon and maple syrup doughnuts and ponders whether or not he wants to die by massive heart attack. Maybe later.


    Nathan reaches the place closest to where his new sense had activated and waits.


    Nothing.


    Nathan looks around. On his right the Park¡¯s low wall and fence go on, on his left there is a well decorated flower shop, Hallows¡¯ most expensive tailor and a darker place offering spiritual and magic stuff.


    Nathan approaches the magics shop. There are cards, magician paraphernalia and books on display. Still nothing.


    On a hunch, Nathan turns around and enters the flower shop.


    The nature aura smashes into him as soon as he crosses the threshold, it feels like opening the door to an oven. A sensation like electricity but without the horrible pain courses through his limbs and climbs up his spine. It takes a good five seconds for him to recover his senses and observe the interior.


    The place is well lit, well designed and warm.The smell of fresh flowers is almost overwhelming and green things of all size occupy every available space on ever shelf and table. The door to the back of the shop is framed by wisteria, kept in place by discreet metal supports. On the counter, tiny cacti surround a tree colored Maneki Neko, its moving paw inviting fortune. Behind it, a slim and beautiful woman in a green uniform finishes to pack a massive floral arrangement for an old man in flannel. The center of the shop is dedicated to a massive cherry tree bonsai and sitting next to that bonsai is a creature.This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    For just an instant Nathan is taken with vertigo. The bonsai is so perfect, so lifelike that it briefly looks like a huge tree in the distance with a normal size woman squatting beneath it. Soon however, the size of the leaves breaks the illusion.


    Nathan stares dumbly at the creature. Two feet tall, she, definitely a she, has long brown hair falling to her deformed feet like a dress, a bark like garment starts from her chest and reaches her legs halfway to her knees. Yellow eyes peer at Nathan from a face that even a mother could not love. She is not ugly like the girl sitting at the back of the class, she is ugly as if it was made on purpose. No warts, mo wrinkles, no crooked teeth, her face is just so unbalanced and disgraceful it almost counts as a work of art.


    The creature speaks.


    ¡°Long have I awaited a kin or a hero to come and save me. Instead, fate has sent¡­ You.¡±


    Nathan closes his mouth and composes himself. On top of the sarcasm, the most striking thing about the creature is her voice: smooth, beautiful. It is a voice that could sell companies. It is even a voice, Nathan reflects, that he could wake up to for his early shift and not want to immediately smother.


    ¡°Like it?¡±


    Nathan jumps in surprise. The woman behind the counter is just next to him and he had not seen her move, not had he noticed the old man in flannel leaving. From up close, Nathan realizes that she is older than he first assumed. Her black wavy hair, held together in a practical knot, shows signs of grey and there are crows feet next to her chocolate eyes. Hey lithe figure and genuine smile make her look ten years younger at least. The patch on her chest reads ¡°Elizabeth¡±. She obviously has no idea her store is inhabited by Miss Dogface.


    ¡°It¡¯s, well, I have never seen anything like that¡±


    Nope, never seen anything like that indeed.


    ¡°Free me now mortal, or feel my anger¡±


    ¡°Are you familiar with bonsai?¡±


    ¡°No.¡±


    Elizabeth launches into an enthusiastic, and somewhat lengthy explanation on the art of bonsai. She is obviously a fan.


    ¡°A bargain then perhaps, but first you must take me away from this place.¡±


    Nathan knows he is in unknown waters, but he feels that getting walked over is not the way to survive or succeed here. Despite the tiny creature''s radiant power, it is obvious she is trapped and needs some help. That gives Nathan some bargaining power.


    ¡°How do I take care of it?¡±


    ¡°Oh, taking care of a bonsai is something you have to commit to but it can be both rewarding and relaxing¡­¡±


    ¡°You must remove me from this container and let me into rich soil, in a secluded place.¡±


    Elizabeth and Nathan talk for a while and he purchases the bonsai. Then comes yet another realization: if Nathan wants to know more, he will need resources because the bonsai cost the reasonable sum of fifteen hundred dollars. Fifteen hundred for a stunted cherry tree and the ugliest female garden dwarf in existence, who could just be waiting to turn him into a giant cucumber for all he knows.


    On the way back, Nathan stops at the bakery and gets himself the Marple syrup and bacon doughnut as dying of coronary disease looks more and more unlikely.

 1.6 Saturday noon - Nathan - Home

    Nathan parks his car in front of his porch, letting silence take over before turning to the backseat, where the bonsai currently stands.


    ¡°So, you said you wanted to¡­¡±


    Nathan doesn¡¯t have time to finish his sentence before something slams into him with incredible strength. He reels back and tries to grab onto something, to resist, to survive. His hand reaches the steering wheel and holds onto it as if it could save him. The thing¡¯s voice reaches him through a cloud of pain and confusion, the sound made worse by its silky beauty.


    ¡°Now, human, let us end this farce. Take me to your master.¡±


    The only thing that saves him is the simple fact that his addled brain could not understand the question, and therefore, could not comply. Surprise must have loosened the creature¡¯s hold on his mind for an instant and that is enough.


    This isn¡¯t real. I am not being crushed against the seat.


    Slowly, Nathan starts to push back. His vision returns, awareness of the creature¡¯s wild aura returns to him and finally, her attacks against him. Her power pushes against him, not unlike a wooden post, while his is unfocused and soft.


    How do you fight someone with a wooden post when all you have is more like a pillow?


    By having a much bigger pillow.


    Nathan realizes that he can feel the limit of her strength. She is feeble, probably weakened by the stunted growth of the tree. He is, in fact, stronger.


    She is, however, much more experienced.


    ¡° I grow tired of your resistance human, yield to me.¡±


    The thing¡¯s mind grows more acute, the post turning into a stiletto, drilling into Nathan¡¯s mind like a thorn. Nathan is losing, his mind recessing before the pain. He fumbles like a drowning man, searching for an escape, anything that would help him.


    An idea.


    Nathan desperately reaches for the space between the two front seats searching with just his touch as his vision blurs and pain robs him of clarity.


    His fingers grab the familiar cold iron, made dull with age and human hands. He flips the top and cranks the wheel. The lighter blazes alive with unusual strength, fire flaring in the car and in his head like a little sun.


    The pressure vanishes instantly and he turns around.


    The thing is backing against the trunk of the tree, and the expression on her face is one of shock, then shame.


    ¡°You might as well kill me human.¡±


    ¡°You pull that shit again and I will burn you to a fucking cinder¡±


    Silence, once again, takes over the car¡¯s interior. The thing breaks it for the first time. Nathan is not quite sure but she looks¡­ Tired.


    ¡°There is no need human, I yield¡±. She bows. ¡° My name is Gwahin of the Leaves.¡±


    ¡°And I am Nathan Mordred Turner, now what the fuck was this about¡±


    Gwahin hesitates, the formality behind her words of surrender giving way to a subdued familiarity.


    "Humans lie. I thought you had. I could never imagine that¡­"


    "That what?"


    "That you were not an initiate. That you had no master."


    "I don¡¯t know what you mean."


    "It means that you can feel and act on the flow without someone showing you how to do it. And the problem is that until a few moments ago, I knew it to be impossible.¡±


    Nathan raises an eyebrow.You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.


    "I am serious Nathan Mordred Turner, in more than three centuries of existence you are the first¡­ Spontaneous awakening I have ever witnessed, or even heard of."


    "Is it bad for me?"


    "It is bad for every sentient being on this planet. Every one of us. But let us not digress. First, a bargain."


    Nathan feels his arm automatically crossing in front go his chest before he makes a conscious offer to relax. The lighter feels warm and heavy in his hand.


    ¡°I have some questions.¡±


    ¡°Before this, I need to absolve myself. You acted in good faith and I attacked you. As a reparation I propose that you be my host, and I will be your guest.¡±


    ¡°Wait, hold on, that doesn¡¯t sound like a reparation at all!¡±


    ¡°It is. Allow me to settle on your land as you guest and you will gain power from it. As part of the agreement, I would be honor bound to assist you should you be attacked on your own land. For your forgiveness I will grant you protection, for your earth I will grant you a boon, that you may choose when you see fit, and if you do this right now I will promise to answer all your questions at a favorable cost, so long as they do not lead to harm against me and my kin.¡±


    ¡°Your kin? You have a family?¡±


    ¡°Why human you think I just popped out of a stump somewhere?¡±


    ¡°Hum I don¡¯t know much about the reproductive cycle of¡­ Of whatever you are.¡±


    ¡°¡­¡±


    Silence reigns in the car yet again. This time it is really awkward.


    ¡°No offense.¡±


    ¡°Do you accept this pact Mordred Nathan Turner, I, Gwahin of the Leaves, swear to my ancestors that this is more than advantageous for you.¡±


    Nathan¡¯s perception picks on Gwahin¡¯s aura. She has done the equivalent of baring herself. Nathan tentatively extends his perception towards her and almost jumps back in surprise. Behind Gwahin¡¯s wild magic, he can feel emotions rolling of her: despair, hopelessness, humiliation and behind, the certainty that what she said was the truth. His first impression had been spot on: Gwahin is at her wit¡¯s end. He did have leverage the first time he had met her.


    ¡°Very well I will help you set up. ¡°


    Relief rolls in waves from Gwahin¡¯s stunted frame.


    "Yes, that would help, but the hardest part is, I am afraid you will have to carry me."


    Nathan pushes the wheelbarrow with all his might, the weight making the wheel dig furrows into the wet ground. Moving forward is slow and frustrating and it takes him a few minutes just to cross a hundred steps, and yet he does not feel like slowing down. Excitation and anticipation roll out from Gwahin in a steady pulse, a pure and beautiful feeling. Nathan is amazed that a being as old as her can still feel such strong emotions. On the other hand, she probably spent a long time stuck in an earthen pot so¡­


    Nathan eventually pauses to catch his breath. His house sits in the middle of a clearing, easily a hundred feet across. A single paved way leads to the road outside his land. There is a small trail that leads to his neighbor¡¯s house and the only way deep into the forest. The catch is that it was never designed to accommodate a bonsai-carrying wheelbarrow.


    ¡°By the way, how did you end up as the central piece in a chic boutique?¡±


    ¡°Rub it in human¡­ My kind¡¯s existence is bound to a tree. When it dies of old age, so do we. Our essence then travels to another sapling.¡±


    Gwahin falls silent and Nathan looks up to see her face only a few inches from his own. From there he sees that her eyes are a slitted like a cat, her iris leaving no white to be seen. It is the color of molten gold. While he was staring at her, she was doing the same. Nathan does not know what she had been looking for but she had apparently found it. Gwahin gives the slightest nod, then continues.


    ¡°When it happens we are vulnerable. We¡­ can also be killed outright if our tree is destroyed. I do not how, but someone found my sapling and when I became aware again I had become this thing. That was about forty years ago.¡±


    ¡°Oh. I see. By the way, what happens to people who come close to your tree from now on?¡±


    ¡°Besides you? Something unfortunate.¡±


    ¡°Uh? Uh. Ok, just so you know, there is this cat.¡±


    ¡°I have no need to harm pets Nathan Mordred Turner.¡±


    ¡°Sometimes I order stuff¡­¡±


    ¡°Unless your mailman enjoys walking through a dense forest during his working hours there will be no issues.¡±


    ¡°Ok.Ok. Let¡¯s go then we are almost here.¡±


    After what feels like an hour, Nathan finally reaches his destination, a clearing in the middle of the otherwise dense forest and the only place where he feels it would make sense to plant a tree. A small pond with brackish water gives the place a pungent smell.


    Nathan heaves the bonsai off the wheelbarrow and takes out a shovel and a pickaxe. Digging a hole in the middle of the forest implies cutting a lot of roots and he does not look forward to it.


    ¡°This place is perfect, I could not have chosen better myself. And we will not need any tool.¡±


    ¡°Wait, what? I carried them all the way here for nothing? Why did you not tell me sooner?¡±


    ¡°I found your pointless suffering entertaining. Are you going to do it or not?¡±


    Nathan knows he should be pissed but he finds it hard to resist the pull of anticipation. With a last effort, he carries the pot through waist high ferns, surprised by how easy vegetation just seems to give way before him. There is a hum in the air and even the late morning light feels more intense on his skin. Finally reaching the spot selected by Gwahin, he locks his feet around the bonsai, places his hands around the trunk and pulls.


    The cherry tree, roots and all, practically removes itself from its container. A vibration goes from the trunk to his hand and soon covers his entire body. Nathan¡¯s mind is overwhelmed with vertigo and the feeling of free fall you get from missing a step on a stair down.


    Earth, Nathan needs earth, quickly, but not here, not just right here. A few feet away stands the center of the maelstrom of wild energy. The beating heart of the forest. Nathan moves forward and the bases of grass parts in front of him like as if it were water. He vaguely hears a voice calling his name but it doesn''t matter. Nothing matters but the call of the earth. There, the perfect spot. He lowers the sapling, light as a feather. Other living things uproot themselves, giving way before the being to come.


    The roots make contact and Nathan¡¯s mind explodes in ecstasy. The sheer felicity it makes his limbs and leaves shake with delight, he extends his arms and lets the light shine on his skin and his bark, it has been so long, so long! But finally, he is free. The roots take hold with unnatural speed, drinking the power and giving it back. The world around him looks beautiful, he had had a glimpse at the park, but this? This is the real deal. He can see every root, every stem, even the fine details on the spade coming right at his face.


    Wait, that¡¯s not right.


    The metal surface hits Nathan¡¯s nose with all the small strength that Gwahin can muster. Curses fly and he touches his painful face while giving the small woman what he hopes is a murderous look.


    ¡°My apologies Mordred Nathan Turner, I should have realized from what happened in the car that you could not protect yourself from strong auras. I called you but you would not listen. I do believe, at least, that you had a good time?¡±


    ¡°Yeah it felt pretty great, right until the shovel that is.¡±


    ¡°Yes. It does feel amazing. Regrettably this would have killed you as you would have remained here until your human body died of exposure. ¡°


    ¡°You¡¯re kidding right?¡±


    ¡°I am quite serious. You do have an uncanny ability to take everything in stride. I have never seen such an ability in a human before Nathan Mordred Turner. Now if you don¡¯t mind¡­ I have been waiting for this for longer than you have been alive.


    ¡°Sure sure. I¡¯ll leave you to it. Do you want me to check on you tomorrow?¡±


    ¡°My, what a serious host. Please do.¡±


    Nathan¡¯s return home is anticlimactic. After everything that happened today, pushing the now empty wheelbarrow (and tools) feels incredibly trivial. Nathan comforts himself by thinking back on today¡¯s achievement and that all in all, nobody had died so far and hopefully, nobody would die anytime soon. He is, of course, completely wrong.

 1.7 Saturday noon - Seren - Location unknown

    Seren mechanically licks her cracked lips, her mouth so dry her tongue sticks to her palate, but she cannot bring herself to care. A bump in the road makes her head bounce by a few hairs. The pain is debilitating and the urge to retch hard to control. A hand to the back of her head had confirmed that the van¡¯s dirty floor was sticky with her drying blood, giving the fetid stench of the place a metallic tang. Terms like shock and concussion had drifted in her mind, still, she cannot bring herself to care. Dark paths flicker in her mind, not a surprise considering she has been kidnapped by creatures coming straight of a horror story, still, she cannot bring herself to care, because Milo is dead.


    Milo is dead, Milo is dead, Milo as died a few feet from her, surprise and horror painted on a face made to smile and laugh. The physical pain of it overwhelms even her current discomfort. It feels like her chest has been gouged open and her heart torn out. Breathing is a constant effort.


    Milo is dead.


    Out of the hundreds of people she had ever met, Milo had been the diamond, the wonder, the miracle. He had been a light and an inspiration and to her disbelief, he had loved her with all his heart. And now he was gone, twenty eight years of experience, and knowledge. A font of wisdom. Kindness beyond measure. Gone in an instant. The weight of this realization cages Seren¡¯s mind like a steel trap. She is numbed, stunned, paralyzed. Reality comes down to physical pain and mental anguish. There is nothing else. Nothing, except anger.Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.


    Simmering outrage starts a slow burn at the back of her mind. With casual violence, the monster have destroyed that which was irreplaceable. Their filthy hands have stained what was pure and beautiful in Seren¡¯s life.


    The van stops. A minute later the back open. Seren forces herself to focus on what can be seen. Concrete ground and a concrete wall. Tall trees. Outside. A city.


    The two monsters climb in, the van inclining under their weight. The killer looks as menacing as before, his dark eyes glinting with malevolent intent.


    ¡°I like the way you look now.¡±


    His voice is harsh and gravelly but the intonations seductive. This thing has spent time in human presence. The stupid one turns to him. To Seren¡¯s satisfaction, his head still bear the mark of a wound.


    ¡°He said¡­¡±


    ¡°I know what he said, shut up.¡±


    The Killer turns to her and smiles, displaying sharp and uneven fangs. Seren is sure that the reveal is on purpose. The killer wants her to be afraid.


    She stares, unflinching, registering his height, reach, stance. He is fast and powerful, much more dangerous than the other one. Well balanced. Seren could not take him even if she had been at her top, even if he had been human. Not with her bare hands at least. It doesn''t matter. She is still alive, and she will have her chance.


    The killer''s smirk turns into an ugly grimace, full of hatred. Only Ugly¡¯s tug on his dirty sleeve seems to hold him.


    ¡°When I¡¯m done with you bitch, you will show me some fucking respect. I own you bitch, you¡¯re mine.¡±


    Seren can see Ugly¡¯s incessant tug, still Killer squats next to her, his voice slurred and angry.


    ¡°I know your kind bitch, you think you¡¯re better than me but I¡¯ll fucking break you like I broke the others. I¡¯ll take good care of you, you can count on it. ¡°


    Seren closes her eyes and shivers and the killer stands up, satisfied, but this is just an act. Seren knows his kind as well, and her time will come.


    Very soon.

 1.8 Sunday, early morning - Nathan - Hallows Appliances

    Nathan swipes his access card and the security door unlocks with the dull thud of a castle gate. Every time he fully expects the hinges to creak and groan under the massive weight and some hunch back named Igor inquiring about his business, but the door just leads to a corridor in sterile grey, and the ugly welcomer is an obese woman called Stacey. Disappointing.


    As the manager for After Sales Services of Hallows¡¯ massive appliance outlet, Nathan often needs to show up an hour before his shift to take care of small details such as employee performance reviews, making sure key performance indicators are stable, writing guidelines, handling complaint notices, employee developments and scheduling, not mentioning common projects with other departments. Sometimes talking to irate customers is the easiest part of the day.


    ¡°Hey Nathan, how was your weekend?¡±


    Nathan turns to the open door of the coffee room with a smile and goes to shake Allan¡¯s hand, leaving him with enough time to put back the black sludge his office calls coffee on the rec room¡¯s stained table. Allan is short and a bit on the plump side but his smile is dentist white and Nathan thinks his impeccable hairstyle is carefully maintained in place with enough chemical agents to melt paint.


    ¡°Sorry about the Bears Allan.¡±


    Allan has moved recently from Chicago and remains loyal to his favorite Football team. Nathan half suspects he doesn¡¯t care that much about sports, and that it only provides him with a never ending source of conversation starters. Allan is not a bad sort though, and he has apparently mastered the ability to tell the difference between ¡®Having Command Skills¡¯ and ¡®Being an Asshole¡¯.


    ¡°Jesus Nathan what happened to your face?¡±


    ¡°Oh that, I was gardening and a shovel fell on my face, believe it or not.¡±


    ¡°Who were you gardening exactly? Because it looks like a direct hit to me.¡±


    ¡°Har har. No seriously I never saw it coming.¡±


    ¡°I can see that. Next time you garden please take a camera with you. If I¡¯m working on Sundays I could use a good laugh.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re all heart Allan. I¡¯ll catch you later.¡±


    Allan nods and turns to another group that just entered the rec room, not wasting any time on his quest to connect with his fellow coworkers.


    Nathan reaches his office and starts working on incident reports. An hour later his desktop phone rings.


    ¡°Hey Nate? This is Marcus. You have any news on Sarah?¡±


    Nathan frowns, not understanding.


    ¡°I called her yesterday she was alright. Why?¡±


    ¡°Well it¡¯s ten minutes into her shift and she¡¯s a no call no show.¡±You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.


    Nathan feels that if you spend more than a few hours per day in a place it becomes familiar. Of course, things can happen: people meet, fuck and bicker, but is all part and parcel of every day life. Not this though. Sarah always shows up in advance, and on the rare occasions that she does not, she calls. No exception.


    Nathan has to ask but the cold grip of dread in his chest tells him he already knows the answer.


    ¡°Did you try calling her?¡±


    ¡°Well that¡¯s the thing, it goes straight to voicemail.¡±


    ¡°Ok. Ok. Have Joyce cover her I will take care of this.¡±


    Nathan does his best to keep his speed under control, telling himself that if the Stalker came back it is already too late. Although the flimsy excuse he gave to leave early will probably hold given the circumstances and his otherwise good record, Nathan asks himself if he should not have left the police handle it. Even as the though crosses his mind, he knows that he could not have done anything but to come and see what had happened.


    Nathan parks his car almost in front of the house but not directly in front of one of the windows. On a hunch, he leaves his key on the contact and the door opened, and grabs his taser. The street is deserted and his magic sense cannot perceive the sickly aura of the Stalker. So far so good. He focuses on the house and knows immediately that something is wrong. Breathing deep, he pushes back the fear and pays attention to his senses. Why does he know something is wrong? It¡¯s the details.


    First detail: the garden gate is unlocked.


    Second detail: there is a parked car thirty feet down the road with a smashed window and something on the driver seat.


    Nathan takes out his phone and moves forward carefully, stopping to feel the air sometimes. There is a trace of the Stalker, but it is faint. If he had not known what to look for he would never have noticed it.


    Nathan reaches the car¡¯s window and fails to comprehend what he sees.


    Nathan is unaccustomed to violence. To him, Death has always been sterile and faraway with one notable exception. Funerals have always been closed casket. Someone is there and then suddenly, they are gone, leaving behind them grief but no corpse. The shock of seeing a dead body is simply too much to process for an instant, then his senses go into overdrive and hit him in waves.


    The first thing he notices is the smell: blood and shit. He knows on an abstract plan that sphincters relax upon death. Smelling it first hand is another thing altogether.


    The second thing is the silence, or rather, the absence of movements. Next time someone tells him that a dead person sometimes look asleep he will have to call bullshit. There is no mistaking the absolute immobility of the man in the driver¡¯s seat.


    The last bit is visual and with it, the realization that there is no dignity in death, at least not in violent death. The man on the seat is white, with black receding hair and grey eyes. In life, they would have been piercing and intelligent, now they looked at nothing. He had been handsome, if a bit overweight and his good looks and conservative clothes would have made people trust him implicitly. His face is now twisted in a repulsive grimace, his tongue lolling out like rotten fruit. A torrent of congealed blood covers the wheel and down as far as Nathan can see.


    Nathan eyes set on the man¡¯s throat and stay there. He soon has no choice but to acknowledge that it is, in fact, gone. Completely.


    Well then.


    ¡°911 what is your emergency?¡±


    Nathan lets the woman navigate him though a well rehearsed protocol. No he is in no immediate danger. No the person is not breathing. And so on. All the while he wonders where Sarah is, and where her child might be.


    The first car to arrive on the scene is marked and two officers come out, hands on their weapon. The first one is a slim old man with a grim face and the second is a black man with an athletic body, more than six feet tall. When they see the body, both of them grow pale and they start talking in hushed voice. They check the house and come back to confirm that both Sarah and her baby are gone. They start the dance of setting a perimeter, taking pictures, clearing the place. During the whole process, Nathan is feeling numbed, yet he cannot help but admire the officers going through the motions with drawn faces and resigned silence as it becomes more and more obvious that the dead man was one of them.


    After a few minutes, an unmarked police car arrives on screeching tires and officer Henkel himself jumps out like a bat out of hell before stopping clear of the car. Grief finally takes over, and a few of the man and women avert their faces. Nathan feels like an outsider at a funeral, awkward and useless while a community mourns the loss of a loved one. At the same time, he is choked by his own failure. He helped Sarah come home? Big deal. She got to stay free, or even alive for all he knows, for one more day. What had he expected, that the creature would leave? He called it a Stalker himself, and stalkers do not stop stalking. He should not be here waiting for questions that would lead nowhere, he should be out there finding a solution and trying his best to make up for that half assed rescue. He had made some headway and thought that he had solved the problem and now Sarah was gone. He had failed her. He¡­


    ¡°Sir?¡±


    Nathan shakes his head and breathes deep. Once. Twice. Slightly centered, he turns to the detective. They have some questions. He goes through the answers mechanically, all the while his mind has already decided the best course of action. The only thing he knows about the stalker is that it¡¯s not human, and unless there is a special paranormal police force he has never heard about, the police is not going to be of much help. Telling the exact truth will land him in a padded room, particularly because people had seemed to be unable to see Gwahin to start with and she was the only proof he had that there was something fucky in the land of reality. Ergo, he needs to talk to an expert on monster and it so happens that he has one on hand who owes him answers. After that, well, they would see.

 1.9 Sunday Morning – Seren – Location unknown

    Seren crashes into the ground of the dirty room and winces. She had been feeling slightly better but being shoved into the ground isn¡¯t fucking helping. She bites back a comment though, dark paths telling her it would be a bad idea. Common sense too.


    The monster clomps out of the dark room lazily and slams the door behind. There is the sound of a lock and then, silence. That makes it all the more surprising when soft hands help her up.


    This time she cannot help it, she yelps and kicks herself back only to look in the dirty face of another blond woman.


    She is dressed in running gear and filthy. Tear tracks run down her cheeks, clearing a path in the grime. Seren realizes she must look the same, except, you know, paler and with darker eyes, courtesy of the concussion. The woman looks sideways at the caked blood running covering the side of her head. Yeah, that too.


    ¡°Who are those people?¡±


    The sobbing voice comes from behind the first woman. She can see a dark haired girl, wait no, woman. Her small stature and elfin trait make her look younger somehow, that and the fact that she looks so miserable.


    She sniffs. Seren cannot believe her ears.


    People?


    Those are clearly monsters. They even look the part. Is she insane?


    There is a look of surprise on the blond woman¡¯s face. She opens her mouth, hesitates then assents.


    "I c-couldn¡¯t believe it at first¡­"


    Upon closer inspection this woman is¡­ Clearly not what Seren expected. Not that she expected much. But still. Where the dark haired girl and Seren are young women, this one is clearly in her early fifties. It is obvious she takes good care of herself though: slim and strong, with skin untouched by tobacco or alcohol. Fit. Age only has a tenuous grip on her face. She is beautiful in a dignified kind of way but what is striking are her eyes. They are a rich, deep blue and so¡­ Innocent. On a hunch, Seren switches the paths to her and almost gasps in surprise. All white, the most positive hit she has had of anyone, ever. She feels instantly that this person would not betray her, would not use her, would not fight back. In most people, Seren has to get a general feeling and then could only use the paths with any degree of accuracy if she focused on a very specific aspect. Not her. The woman is Good with a capital G. Not stupid good. Good.


    She is looking at Seren a bit nervously and playing with a crucifix on her necklace. Who keeps this to go running anyway? But then Seren notices a wedding ring. Apparently people go sweat wearing jewels nowadays. Oh well.


    ¡°Hum hi, I¡¯m P-P-Patience, uh Patience Willow¡­Smith. Uh, nice to m-m-meet you, although the circum¡­.stances are not g-good.¡±


    ¡°Yeah they suck, they really do¡±. Says the other woman with a sob.


    Patience winces at the rude term and Seren feels an instant feeling of sympathy toward Patience¡¯s possible children. That was both cute and super annoying. Seren likes her curse words extra spicy, extra personal and stringed together.


    "I¡¯m Seren. I think I was kidnapped a day ago, uh, what day is it?"A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    The dark haired woman sniffs again and manages to say ¡°Sunday Morning, I¡¯m Sarah by the way¡± before being wracked by another sob. Poor thing.


    No sarcasm here. She really is a poor thing. They all are.


    "Right, I was kidnapped on Friday evening. I was with¡­"


    Milo.


    Seren does not finish her sentence and instead gulps back the overwhelming grief. She will cry later, when she has the time. She swallows one more time and regroups


    "¡­ Someone else."


    Patience blinks in sympathy and Seren hates her for it. She hates it that she sees her weak. She doesn¡¯t want the blond woman¡¯s kind words because she cannot understand. She cannot get it, how could she? This stranger? She cannot comprehend the sanctity of the pain caused by the loss of half her world.


    Patience wisely withholds her hand and Seren blinks, surprised by the woman¡¯s sensibiliy. She is not just Good but tactful too? Has Seren just met the dream housewife?


    ¡°I don¡¯t know who they-they are. They t-took me when I was ¡­jogging. Hum. Yesterday and-and huh. I s-saw them¡­ run af-after my friend, huh, Vero...nica. I think she g-got away.¡±


    Seren regrets her previous anger. There is no telling what that woman has been through and she still has sympathy left. Well she is Good so obviously. But yes, no reason to be angry.


    ¡°I¡¯m sure she did.¡±


    Seren hears the empty words leave her mouth and hopes Patience will take them as they are intended. She does. A sad smile crosses Patience¡¯s lips and her face changes, she looks almost¡­ Angelic.


    "Yes. Thankfully I am a believer. It helps."


    She laughs. It sounds hollow. All the while, she is still fingering the cross on her neck. So that¡¯s what true courage is. Dominating an overwhelming fear.


    Seren finds that she is no longer annoyed by the woman.


    She finds a measure of peace.


    Behind her, the door bangs open with a heart stopping clash and bumps against the wall. Seren does not turn but her paths shift again, giving her a slight headache, She knows she should not shift so fast but she simply cannot help it.


    It¡¯s white.


    The thing is not here to hurt her. She almost breath in relief when she hears mumbling. The approaching monster is saying something under his breath, repeating it like a mantra.


    As the thing comes close enough and the two other women recoil in terror Seren blanches. She finally hears a full sentence.


    "Not the blond ones."


    The creature reaches down and grabs Sarah¡¯s wrist and the woman screeches. Then her face turns up and she starts screaming in anger. Seren is paralyzed by fear and by something else, something that she knows and hates above all else: helplessness.


    She knows what is coming.


    The monster opens its maw to a row of yellow fangs, rotten yet serrated. Sarah¡¯s eyes focus and it is as if she its seeing the thing for the first time.


    Her screech is absolutely deafening.


    Seren jumps on the monster tries to push it away, an instant later Patience joins her. They pull. They might as well have tried to pull a boulder.


    The monster chomps down on Sarah¡¯s arm, just under her elbow. The screech of fear turns to pure agony. Seren keeps pushing the thing away, her eyes blur and she want to retch, The monster pulls as well and with a disgusting noise, leaves behind a bloody stump, then stands up and casually walks away.


    Seren is stunned. Shocked. There are now words. She hears a voice call her name.


    Something light slaps her face and forces her to refocus. Patience has removed her top leaving full breasts to the cold air, and is using what appears to be her sports bra around Sarah¡¯s arm.


    What¡¯s left of it.


    Oh my god.


    Patience ¡¯s calm voice finally pierces through the fog around Seren¡¯s brain.


    A stick. Right. She glances around.


    They are in a sort of small storage areas in a long abandoned factory. She stands up too quickly and almost faints. There, on the ground, a plastic straight thing that looks like it was part of a widow or a wall.


    She grabs it and turn around.


    That will do says Patience. Gone is the hesitation on the pure face. It has been replaced by a calm face, serene in its focus.


    Seren rushes back and hands the woman the piece of plastic. She works tirelessly and the improvised tourniquet slows down the blood flow to a trickle. Patience hands her shirt to Seren and tell her


    "Put this on her wound."


    The screams have mercifully stopped. But it¡¯s not good right? Or is it? Seren would prefer to faint when it happens to¡­ Oh god.


    Patience glances at Seren and sees her eyes on the tourniquet. She mistakes her intentions.


    "Yes. Thankfully, I am also a registered nurse. It helps."


    But this time she is not smiling. This time, Seren can see her own despair mirrored on the woman¡¯s crying face and in the distance, they can hear the horrific sounds of snapping bones and mastication.

 1.10 Sunday noon - Nathan - Sarahs home

    Nathan calls his company to warn them and to take the rest of the day of. Allan assures him he will take his shift and handle things on his hand, and to ¡°take it easy but not drink and drive¡±.


    Nathan does not intend to drink.


    The city gives way to the countryside which gives way to the forest. During the drive, Nathan does his best keep both his composure and his car below the speed limit. The only piece of good news is that Isaac, Sarah¡¯s kid, is with Sarah¡¯s mom somewhere in Philadelphia. Safe for now.


    After what feels like an eternity, Nathan walks the path to Gwahin¡¯s clearing. The flow around him hints at her presence with an absolute surety that was not present the first time he had looked for her. Perhaps he is getting better at it, but Nathan suspects that Gwahin¡¯s aura has simply grown exponentially more powerful.


    Even with the awareness of her growing power, nothing could have prepared Nathan for what now stands before him. The clearing¡¯s underbrush is completely gone, replaced with grass and curious flowers that definitely do not belong here, especially in this season. The riot of colors contrasts with the surrounding trees¡¯ dying leaves and the glassy surface of the pond, all surrounding and leading to the center piece: the ex bonsai. The cherry tree, in full pink bloom, rises to twice its previous height and pulses with power and life, seemingly bending the light and making it both blurry and more intense. Nathan is so mesmerized that he only notices Gwahin¡¯s presence when she stands right in front of him.


    "Hello Nathan Mordred Turner."


    ¡°Hello Gwahin of the leaves, you seem to have settled pretty well.¡±


    And indeed she has, she is herself taller by at least a foot and not quite so ugly anymore. She almost reaches his¡­ She is half a person high. Her voice is still the same, smooth and rich like dark chocolate.


    ¡°So before I start, do you need food? Do you watch TV?¡±


    ¡°Good manners Nathan? I must commend you, though I can see that there is something on your mind you are dying to ask and so I will save my requests until later.¡±


    ¡°Ok. So. I have a few questions. ¡°


    ¡°I can imagine. I could answer, provided a small incentive?¡±


    Nathan hesitates, wary.


    ¡°What small incentive are we talking about exactly?¡±


    ¡°Not your first born you nitwit, I want fertilizer.¡±


    ¡°Fertilizer?¡±


    ¡°Fertilizer.¡±


    ¡°As in cow sh¡­¡±


    ¡°Thehigh grade kind from the shop you found me in. I have been eyeing ¡°the good stuff¡± for some time. You will provide it to me.¡±


    ¡°How much are we talking about?¡±


    ¡°That will depend on your questions.¡±


    ¡°Deal. Alright let¡¯s start. First, it might be rude but, what are you?¡±


    Gwahin laughs softly.


    ¡°A bit direct but not unexpected. A handful of fertilizer.¡±


    ¡°Deal¡±


    ¡°There are no word in your language to qualify us but you can call us ¡°Yol¡±. It just means ¡°people¡± really.¡±


    ¡°So you are a Yol¡­¡±


    ¡°A pinch. ¡°


    Nathan raises an eyebrow.


    ¡°Yes Nathan, I am a person.¡± She laughs softly again.


    ¡°How come I could see you but others could not?¡±


    ¡°A fair question. This one is for free. Someone turnt me into this¡­ Bonsai, and did something to me. Only sensitive initiates or other magical beings could have perceived me, and then, not all of them. This cage was the first thing I broke yesterday. I still wonder who put me there. Perhaps you can help me find out sometimes?¡±


    ¡°So other people can see you now?¡±


    ¡°A handful.¡±


    He nods.


    ¡°Only if I want them to see me Nathan. We are in a Yol forest now and I can move around and hide. I will not reveal myself needlessly. I am still fairly weak.¡±The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    Nathan reminds himself that Gwahin¡¯s brown skin and dark bark-like attire would act as a perfect natural camouflage in this forest, of course, and that would be without using her other resources.


    ¡°So there are other species of magical creatures?¡±


    ¡°A pinch.¡±


    He nods.


    ¡°Yes, countless, but only a small fraction should be on this plane of existence right now.¡±


    ¡°There are other planes of existence?! Seriously?!¡±


    ¡°A pinch?¡± She laughs again. ¡°Yes, but that is a discussion for another time, for now focus.¡±


    ¡°Ok, ok. ¡°


    ¡°Is there a species that feels like death and rot, taller than a man but somewhat hunched, really fast, really strong, big claws and teeth that look like they came out of a dentist¡¯s nightmare?¡±


    As Nathan description goes on, Gwahin grows worried.


    ¡°A shovelful.¡±


    He nods.


    ¡°Yes, I thought I had smelled them one on you but with humans you can never be sure. Your kind gets stinky so easily. Those are called Varogs, or ¡°eaters¡±. That is a short version of their names but the real version has too many syllables and humans have no memory. They prey on your kind, I understand that they prefer women and children for the taste.¡±


    Nathan swallows a lump in his throat.


    ¡°Yes because they are more tender. Also, human males stink. Did I not mention that before?¡±


    ¡°Alright I got it. What can you tell me about Varogs?¡±


    "Sixty shovelful."


    ¡°Wow wow wait, I don¡¯t need the Wikipedia entry just give me the short version.¡±


    ¡°Sigh. You will have to tell me which part of my colossal knowledge you are interested in.¡±


    ¡°I want to know what are their strengths, and how to kill them.¡±


    ¡°A bag and a half.¡±


    ¡°Wow ok. Alright let¡¯s hear it.¡±


    ¡°Varogs are swamp ambushers. They are particularly adept at hiding their presence through magical means. In essence, you will notice anything but them until you get close enough for it not to matter and that is particularly true for creatures that do not feel the flow. They are also much stronger and a bit faster than normal humans although their stamina is inferior. Last and that is relevant for other humans, they are beings of two world and wounds inflicted through normal weapon will be smaller, or sometimes simply disappear.¡±


    ¡°Wait so they have natural resistance to weapon? How do you kill them then?¡±


    ¡°Hold on Nathan you obviously crossed path with a Varog, what happened?¡±


    ¡°Wait should I not ask payment for answering those questions?¡±


    Gwahin lifts a brow and shows as much disdain as her smallish frame allows.


    ¡°I was striking bargains with all manners of being when your grandfather was mewling and soiling himself, Nathan Mordred Turner, and I am currently providing you vital answers for shovelfuls of fertilizer that cost eight dollars a bag are you sure you want me to treat this seriously?¡±


    ¡°I was just joking. Haha.¡±


    Nathan relates his first encounter. Gwahin stays silent for a short while then looks in wonder.


    ¡°How in the name of Winter are you still alive. Do you realize the full extent of you luck? Nevermind, you could not have known. In order to kill them you need an infused weapon, preferably with aspects like life or fire or anything of the flow really. As I mentioned, they are ambushers and their strength lies in their ability to surprise their prey. After they capture one, they will usually keep it alive for as long as they can, eating one limb at a time so as to keep the meat fresh and¡­ Are you quite alright?"


    Oh shit.


    Nathan feels like retching.


    Oh shit oh shit oh shit.


    No time.


    ¡°I will have the truth now Mordred Nathan Turner.¡±


    ¡°I told you the truth, only, the story does not end here. The person I was talking about, Sarah, she was taken.This morning.¡±


    ¡°Then there is still a chance to rescue her, but¡­¡±


    Nathan sees in Gwahin¡¯s face the same look he had seen on police officers years ago: pity with a hint of powerlessness.


    ¡°Can you help me?¡±


    ¡°I am sorry Nathan Mordred Turner, I cannot give you this as a boon. It will take months before I can even leave this forest! I fear that there is nothing that can be done.¡±


    ¡°Wait, wait¡­ You spoke about infused weapon right? Do you¡­ Have any?¡±


    As he says that, Nathan winces. Gwahin has spent decades stuck as a bonsai, how could she possibly have any weapon lying around. He curses himself for his stupidity when Gwahin¡¯s voice rings like hope in the middle of the clearing.


    ¡°As a matter of fact I do.¡±


    ¡°You do? YOU DO?! Wonderful!¡±


    ¡°But even if, and that is a big if, I trade you weapons, what do you intend to do about it?¡±


    Nathan stops for a moment. He licks his lips.


    ¡°Actually I can sort of¡­ Feel it. Like I felt you.¡±


    Gwahin stares in silence for what feels like a long time and blinks once.


    ¡°How far can you feel the Varog Nathan Mordred Turner?¡±


    ¡°Not very far, maybe thirty feet? But I could feel it had been to Sarah¡¯s house and by that point it had been gone for an hour apparently.¡±


    More silence. She sighs.


    ¡°I fear you do not have that much time Mordred Nathan Turner. ¡°


    "How¡­ How much time do I have?"


    ¡°Perhaps a day, but you have to remember¡­ It is a great pain to be eaten alive limb by limb.¡±


    ¡°Alright, alright stop. Then, how long is she going to remain¡­ Whole.¡±


    Gwahin stares again but this time her eyes hold sadness and¡­ Empathy. Nathan refuses to accept that.


    ¡°I am sorry Nathan Mordred Turner.¡±


    ¡°NO! Do not say it. ¡°


    Nathan breathes in and out, forcing, pushing the pain and horror back. There is no need to think about it now. He has to focus.


    Breathe in, breathe out. The horror recedes to the back of his mind, to be dealt with at a later time. He has to focus on the now, on what he can do.


    ¡°Do you perhaps, have a way to locate the¡­ The Varog?¡±


    ¡°I could track him if he were to pass through but¡­¡±


    ¡°Him? It¡¯s a him?¡±


    ¡°Yes, all Varogs are male. ¡°


    ¡°How do they? Nevermind I don¡¯t want to know.¡±


    ¡°You really do not. ¡°


    ¡°So you can¡¯t track him. Would there be a way to locate his¡­ Huh¡­ Aura? ?


    ? Aura. Yes. An apt term. There would be but I would need to feel him, or something that belongs to him.¡±


    Wait I thought you had smelled him on me. Could it be enough?


    ¡°No Nathan, that would be impossible. ¡°


    She searches his face with sorry eyes, trying to make him understand.


    ¡°It would be like smelling alcohol on someone¡¯s breath and deduce the bar he had been to.¡±


    ¡°I see. I see.¡±


    Nathan is out of ideas. Gwahin is looking at him with the same level of empathy that a parent at a child whose dog died as if Sarah¡¯s horrible fate is just an inevitability he has to accept.


    But no he could not give in so easily. There had to be away to locate the Stalker. Had to be.


    Nathan hit his head with the palm of his heand. The ¡°smack¡± sound makes Gwahin lift a brow.


    It never was about finding the Stalker right? He is such an idiot.


    Nathan rushes back to his car, leaving splintered branches and trampled leaves in his path. He opens the passenger doors and looks at the seat, frantic.


    A neighbor could have heard him scream ¡°YES, I KNEW IT!¡±


    Nathan races back, leaving behind him trampled branches and falling leaves. His feet are flying above the muddy path.


    He runs back to the clearing, a single black, long and wavy hair clutched in a sweaty fist.


    ¡°And¡­ And this? Could you track a human with this?¡±


    ¡°Yes Mordred Nathan Turner, I believe I can.¡±


    Now let us talk about payment.


    ¡°Alrightwhaddayawant?¡±


    ¡°A pint of your blood.¡±


    The wind blows, leaves rustle.


    ¡°Come again?¡±


    ¡°The price for a tracking device and the weapon to carry out your task. A pint of your blood.¡±


    The wind blows more and the leaves rustle more. The trees look bored, somehow.


    ¡°Wait. Why? How? ¡°


    ¡°I will use it as a source of power. Blood of the host, blood of an initiate. Belayed autumn equinox sacrifice. That sort of things.¡±


    ¡°And¡­ And how?¡±


    ¡°I do not have a proper recipient yet so I will just drink it. I can use the energy immediately in any case.¡±


    Nathan shakes himself, what was he expecting anyway? A PayPal transfer? This is a world of blood and things that eat people. Sarah is being eaten alive right now. What is he waiting for? Why is he wasting time?


    Shame creeps up Nathan¡¯s mind. He has made this his responsibility. This is his choice, and he will not back down at the first sign of weirdness and, well, blood shedding.


    ¡°Alright. ¡°


    ¡°Excellent! Blood of the initiate is so delicious!¡±


    ¡°Wait how do you know how initiate blood tastes? ¡°


    ¡°A shovelful.¡±


    ¡°You know what never mind. Last thing though. How do you intend to, hmmm, extract the blood, so to speak.¡±


    Gwahin of the Leaves walks up to Nathan and slowly, slowly smiles. Up until now Nathan had mainly focused on her eyes, or perhaps it is just that she spoke without showing her teeth. He had never really noticed them until now.


    Needles. Every single one of them. Reddish needles, slightly curved inward, in single file. They looked sharp enough to puncture steel.


    ¡°Your wrist please.¡±


    Nathan tries to swallow the fear lodged deep in his belly. This is it isn¡¯t it? You can make big claims and say you will do something but the true test always comes when you actually face the pain, the danger, or the humiliation.


    This is the beginning, the first easy step forward. Sarah is suffering and he can help her. Actually as far as he knows, only he can help her. Sarah. Isaac. Those people deserve better than to die or to grow without parents.


    Deliberately, Nathan gives Gwahin his wrist. She gives him a toothless smile and this time it holds something¡­ Different than amusement or sarcasm. She sighs.


    ¡°Ah Nathan, you are so¡­ Pure. I only wish you could remain just so.¡± Then she opens wide her jaw and¡­ A black talon erupt from her thumb and pierces his wrist. Taken by surprise, Nathan jump but Gwahin is already fastened on the wound and the pain turns to a dull throb before it evens starts.


    ¡°WHY YOU LITTLE!!!¡±

 1.11 Twenty minutes later - Nathan

    ¡°Come on Nathan Mordred Turner that was the least painful option. Teeheeehee.¡±


    Nathan mechanically scratches his bandaged wrist. He is not sure he actually needs the bandage or even the disinfectant. But better safe than septic. Still, it is a bit early for it to itch, he feels that he should feel pain.


    Gwahin looks giddy. Actually now that he thinks about it, she looks¡­ Well, drunk.


    And perhaps taking him by surprise had made the pain less. He is no expert.


    ¡°Onto the help I will give you now dear host! Teeheehee! I will give you two. No! Three things! And Advice! I am such a good Arkha to you.¡±


    Gwahin stumbles toward her bonsai and drops to her knees, a hand on the ground. Then stops.


    Nathan starts to wonder whether she needs help when Gwahin pulls. With a grunt, she extracts from the ground a straight piece of wood, basically, a spear.


    ¡°Wooh! That was a bit early! But I did it!¡±


    She turns to Nathan and he realizes that she had taken specific care not to show her teeth before. Now that she is quite obviously plastered her guard is down, so her lips are up and Nathan wants to step back. He still grabs the spear.


    ¡°Alright then! You know how to use a spear right?¡±


    ¡°I read that somewhere, you have to stick them with the pointy end right?¡±


    ¡°Hold on a minute Mordred Nathan Turner you are the master of your house right?¡±


    ¡°Uhhhh sort off?¡±


    ¡°And you live alone?¡±


    Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.


    ¡°Yeeesss?¡±


    ¡°You have never been trained to fight? What if enemies come to your house?¡±


    Nathan thinks about his childhood, trips with his parents to fairs and movie sets and the people who had done their best to master an art of war that was five centuries obsolete. He had not trained with them, he had loved the jesters, and now it is too late to try an impress flesh eating monsters with his juggling skills. He is not a hunter either and Hallows is too safe to warrant a weapon.


    ¡°My only enemies are the IRS and irate customers. Killing customers is bad for business and you can¡¯t defeat the IRS.¡±


    Gwahin shakes her head then blinks. Then blinks a few more times, trying to focus on Nathan¡¯s head. Then she remembers that his head is significantly higher and that she is staring at his crotch.


    ¡°One more reason for the third gift. Onto the second gift, Nathan Mordred Turner! ¡°


    Gwahin seizes Sarah¡¯s air and turns around. She starts working on something, making huge gestures punctuated with grunts and expletives. Nathan tries to see but as soon as he takes a step forward she turns her head around and gives him the stink eye. Nathan relents, sits down on the grass.


    After less than two minutes, two tiny hands drop something on Nathan lap.


    ¡°Tadaaaa! How do you like it!? Teeheeeheee!¡±


    It is¡­ A dreamcatcher. A small dreamcatcher with the center hole covered by Sarah¡¯s hair braided in a eight points star. At the center of it stands what looks like a droplet of resin, the amber shining in the pale light. As Nathan delicately picks it, the amber shivers, then moves to the edge of the circle.


    Towards the city.


    Gwahin looks, expectant. Nathan just nods, speechless.


    ¡°Awesome work for an improvised weaving, if I do say so myself! Onto the last part!¡±


    Gwahin saunters to the edge of the clearing, stumbling only once, then grabs a bunch of stuff from a tree branch that just¡­ Leans toward her. She paws the things and shoves them in her mouth, gargles and makes weird noises then spats them out.


    Nathan stares silently as exactly six acorns are dropped on his lap. He gathers them in his hands.


    The acorns have become blood red and pointier somehow. Upon closer inspection they have an aura and Nathan can feel that those will never grow up to become trees. They are weapon now.


    ¡°How is it? Teeheee. You can almost go get yourself blooded now but before I have a few pieces of advice! See? You are an idiot Nathan Mordred Turner, an imbecile, but, but! I dont want you to die! You are fun! And so refreshing! And I still owe you a debt! So! You will listen with unmita¡­. Untimig¡­ Complete attention! First! As I mention a Varog can make people stop observing him. But! You dont have that problem because you just never stop weaving yes?


    ¡°I dont¡¯t know what you mean.¡±


    ¡°The flow! The¡­ The Magic! You never stop using it, yes? You know that yes?¡±


    ¡°Uh¡­¡±


    ¡°So since you are paying attention the Varog cannot use that, but! But it can still get the jump on you, if you are stupid! So dont be stupid and go save your friend. Next! The acorns are projetc¡­ Protej¡­ You throw them. Be at a safe distance yes? And dont miss. Just toss them, teehee! Dont be stupid. Next! Find your friend before you find the Varog because the first thing they do if they know they are going to be attacked, is, guess what? They eat! Because it makes them slightly stronger. So that tends to kill people. So your friend, first! Then the Varog. Now, the spear. Just¡­ Just dont drop it. All those weapon will last until nightfall, that¡¯s long enough! You really, really can¡¯t lose with what I gave you, you know? If you do I can¡¯t help you, you are just too stupid! Anyway, you go now, I have many.. I have to¡­¡±


    Gwahin turns away from Nathan and topples. Like a tree.


    Nathan stands up and moves to her unmoving form. He can hear a light snore, which just shows that the three century old bonsai faerie cannot hold her human blood. Hilarious.


    Nathan sighs, he has places to be, a monster to kill. He has six ¡°projectiles¡±, a primitive spear and his total lack of knowledge and experience in fighting. What could go wrong?

 Interlude - Phone call

    ¡°Hey Mom.¡±


    ¡°Hey baby Nate, you are so lucky to catch me on my coffee break. Not that this should qualify as coffee. It¡¯s more like dissolved coal or¡­ I don¡¯t know. I can¡¯t believe that they pay actors millions and can¡¯t even afford a proper coffee machine!¡±


    ¡°How is the movie coming along?¡±


    ¡°Oh great! Today I taught this man to look like a proper smith, I wanted to be on the movie but they said a woman smith would break immersion. If only they knew! Particularly in parts of Eastern Europe in the late middle¡­¡±This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.


    ¡°Ok ok I got it.¡±


    ¡°Aaaanyway. I showed him how it¡¯s done. His name is Harold and he has those HUGE bulging muscles!¡±


    ¡°MOM!¡±


    ¡°Aw Nathan you are just so easy to tease. Anyway, what¡¯s going on with you.¡±


    ¡°Ah, uh, nothing. Nothing, just wanted to call you is all.¡±


    ¡°Naaaaaaaate? Don¡¯t play that game with your mother and tell me what¡¯s wrong. Is it work related?¡±


    ¡°What? No.¡±


    ¡°So there IS something!!!¡±


    ¡°Mom please it¡¯s nothing I just wanted to check up on you before¡­¡±


    ¡°Before what? Nate? NATE!¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry mom I have to go.¡±

 1.12 Sunday afternoon - Nathan - Hallows Industrial District

    Nathan parks the car in the empty road. This is it. Hallows has an industrial park with some medium company, nothing too big, and this is the end of it. On a Sunday afternoon there would be little traffic to start with, and this part is virtually empty. The whole area feels abandoned. On his last circle, Nathan has noticed swampy grassland next to decrepit buildings. The Varog has chosen his lair adequately.


    Now that there is nothing to occupy his mind, stress turns to horror and for a brief moment, Nathan is paralyzed. The fear that had sit in his stomach like a ball of lead snakes its way through his body, making his breath grow short and his mind numb. No question nor objection reach him, the world is static and nausea. Nathan is afraid. No, he is terrified, yet it is said that people get used to anything and every tide must withdraw. Eventually, Nathan comes back to his senses and finds out he is holding the steering wheel in a death grip as if it would offer him some measure of control. He forces himself to breathe deeply, to refocus. He pushes back the terror to the place where feelings can be digested and stored to be dealt with at a later time, when it hurts less and when it does not affect judgement. He breathes, and the world comes back into focus.


    The scene is somewhat anticlimactic. Just like any job interview or exam, the pressure makes the world more vivid and yet the reality just isn¡¯t up to it. The exam place is old, the examiner tired, the company office has dirt on the ceiling. Someone has split coffee on the ground. This is the same.


    A rusted board displays a fiery mascot and the words ¡°Tiera Wood Pellets¡± in faded colors. The parking is sad and empty and the place is closed. This is a far cry from the expected cave in the ground from where yellow cloud of sulfur escape. The cold aura of rot does not lie though, nor does the strange dreamcatcher. This is the place.


    Nathan opens the door and stands out. He is wearing light sneakers and a jean for mobility, but above it a utility vest containing the acorns in a pocket and he holds a spear. The surprise gear rustles lightly under the vest and he moves his shoulder to rebalance it. No helmet. Nathan figures that if he is hit in the head, the plastic top he wears when using a chainsaw would be of little use anyway.


    Perhaps the police could¡­ No, if he calls them now they would send a car to investigate, and they would be killed. Gwahin has been clear, if you want to hunt a Varog you need the ability to detect them and you need infused weapon. Hallows police officers do not have that. None of the officers he had met at the death scene had emitted any sort of aura. Calling reinforcements would just lead to more death, hostages being first. If the government had formed a corps capable of handling such threats Nathan knows nothing of it anyway. He could already imagine the call.


    ¡°911 what is your emergency?¡±


    ¡° Oh hello I would just like to inquire whether or not you fine people have a division dedicated to killing magical swamp monsters that eat people and cannot be detected by non magical people, sort of like man-eating chameleons really. Any chance of that being the case? Hello? Hello?¡±


    Yeah, no.


    Not mentioning that any form of law enforcement would announce their presence and Sarah would be used as an energy bar.Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    Sarah.


    No time to hesitate.


    Nathan breathes in a last time and walks to the small factory. A last look around shows only rows of trees surrounding the company¡¯s walls, fallen leaves and a forlorn antique jeep parked in the distance. Nothing stirs.


    Nathan pushes the metal gate open, just wide enough to pass through. It opens silently.


    He walks toward the main building. It is a large warehouse building painted white, with high up widows. A small building stand near the entrance, deserted at the moment. The face of the warehouse contains two large entrances currently shuttered. They seem large enough to accommodate a truck and Nathan assumes they would be used for deliveries. Both of them are locked. Another door leading to a lobby looks locked as well as barred. Nathan shakes his head, this is not the entry point. The noise of the break in would alert anyone in the silent building.


    Nathan starts to look around. The warehouse extends for several hundred feet and on the left side he finds the prize: an open door, slightly ajar.


    Nathan approaches in silence and slips into the darkness.


    The interior of the warehouse is dark and musty, which is to be expected. What Nathan had not expected is the smell. It reeks. A subtle mix of animal and excrement. Very little light filters through the high window to cast a dull light on three massive machine lines, laying idly in the semi darkness like three giant caterpillars. To his right, a relatively empty space leads to the closed delivery bays. The left leads to what looks like storage silos but the main attraction is on the opposite side of the building. Tracks in the dust lead to a series of rooms, separated from the rest of the place by thin walls of glass and plastic. From his position near the door Nathan cannot tell which one could be inhabited.


    Nathan crouches and crosses the assembly lines in silence, slow and vigilant. He crouches under machine as carefully as he can and stops every five steps to check behind him. Cold sweat runs down his back and drips in his eyes as he makes his way through. Nothing moves.


    Nathan reaches the other end and find the tracks again, they lead to the two central rooms. As he nears the first one he stops for the first time. If the aura had not been an indication, the noise would have been enough. It sounds like what he expects bears would sound like when they snored.


    Found the Varog.


    Nathan creeps even more silently while his heart tries its best to bounce out of his chest. The second room has a lock on it, something that looks like it was stolen from a pen.


    Sarah.


    Nathan tiptoes forward until the snores turn into a grunt.


    Nathan freezes but does not turn his head, in case the Varog can hear his stare. Thankfully, the grunts lead to a wet cough and then, to more snores.


    Nathan waits for a minute before shaking himself. He suddenly really needs to pee.


    He approaches the door and seizes the lock. He turns the key.


    The clang sounds like a thunderbolt to him.


    The snores do not stop.


    With agonizing slowness, he opens it. Luck is still on his side and it moves silently on its hinges.


    In the darkness of the room, he can see three unmoving shapes. A few steps forward and he can stare in silence, dumbfounded.


    There are three women in the room.


    The first one is a blond woman in her forties. She wears sports trouser and a shredded vest and nothing underneath, and she is shivering with cold. Her hands are currently grasping at something hanging from her neck. The second woman is much younger, athletic and wears tasteful clothes now stained and torn. The left side of her face and her blond white hair are caked with blood. The black and red stain reaches down to her trousers.


    While they are both filthy, the two women are a study in contrast. While the older one is silently crying, the younger one is staring at him with a calculating look, her eyes going from him, to his spear, to the door. They are grey and¡­ Cold. There is something of metal in her. Behind them is¡­


    Nathan tries to reconcile what he sees and his mind.


    Of course, Gwahin has warned him.


    When Nathan thinks of Sarah, he sees an expectant mother, then a young one working alongside him with unerring serious. Sometimes she would be silent and focused, sometimes she would have a smile on her elfin face and a twinkle of mischief in her eyes. She would wear the company shirt, or casual clothes. The mess of her black hairs would be held in place with a circlet or a band. The Sarah lying in front of him is a broken thing, marred by violence and¡­ Mutilated. But she is still Sarah.


    No time, they have much to do. Nathan forces his mind to the present yet again but nothing has changed, the warehouse is silent, silent as a tomb.


    Silent?


    Oh shit.

 1.13 Sunday afternoon - Seren - The Lair

    Seren expected the SWAT, the army, a spook squad dressed in suits or even a knight in shining armor at this point. Instead, salvation has come as an average height dude dressed like a gardener holding a stick of wood. She almost feels like crying. Fan-fucking-tastic. His angular face is pasty white with fear and his black eyes dart from woman to woman. At least he is not staring at Patience¡¯s chest. Small comfort.


    Seren feels like Princess Leia being rescued, except this time there is no dashing rogue and Vader has definitely not given the order to let them go. Speaking of which.


    Seren stands up slowly and stretches. This is it, do or die. After two days of hell and the loss of the love of her life she should feel at her wit¡¯s end, instead she is having a second wind. Seren is detached, because with the next ten minutes she will be free or dead.


    Quiet steps approach their cubicle and the would be savior turns on his feet to face the threat. He looks like he is two seconds away from pissing himself. Seren eyes the spear, in case he faints.


    There is something about the spear. Paths weave and twirl around it. They also move around something in the guy¡¯s hands.


    The door opens.


    If she had not seen it for herself and someone had told her the monster had once looked human she would have called bullshit. The only thing tying the horror in front of her to mankind is that it is a grisly parody of it. An insult. It now stands at close to seven feet even while hunched, its head barely a flesh appendage conveniently housing vitreous eyes and a nightmarish mouth. Raspy breath come from a degenerated torso and its pallid flesh make it look like a mad scientist had fused taut muscles on crooked bones. The abomination licks blood from the jagged wound that is its mouth and take a step forward.


    And so does the man.


    Seren was absolutely sure the newcomer was two fingers away from screaming but after seeing the hurt girl he apparently grew a backbone. More, he looks like he wants to fight.


    The next seconds feel like a mirage.


    The horror steps forward with a terrifying speed.


    The man cocks his arm and throws something.


    The monster sees the something flying at him in an lazy arc and swats it by reflex.


    A grenade explodes.


    This is what it feels like. An instant, a monster backhands a small projectile, the other instant, three flowers of death have bloomed in the enclosed space. Three nightmares of blood and thorns and a noise like a pop corn if pop corns were the size of a dog house. An instant and the flowers have wilted to nothingness.


    Seren¡¯s ears are ringing and something is screaming, a keening sound that pierces her sensitive ears like a drill. The monster has fallen forward, clutching his only remaining arm to the ruin of his torso. The smell is absolutely disgusting.


    Seren is still detached, she walks forward and takes the spear from the guy¡¯s lax hand. She casually walks forward and stabs the monster in the neck.


    Silence reigns for a handful of seconds and surprisingly, Patience is the first one to break it.Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.


    ¡°We have to get out before the other comes back.¡±


    ¡°Wait, there is another? Shit. Let¡¯s go my car is outside.¡±


    Patience stands up, she is already carrying Sarah in a fireman hold. Seren moves forward but steps away from the unmoving form. The hole in the monster¡¯s neck is sizzling and it looks like flesh is, well, melting. But you never know. It¡¯s a monster. Seren has seen enough movies to know that you don¡¯t come near the mangled corpse to check if it¡¯s dead. I mean if it¡¯s not, what are you going to do exactly? Right.


    So they step away from the creature and out in the warehouse. Fresher air fill her lungs and not a second too soon.


    The guy looks at the spear in Seren¡¯s hand but says nothing. He has pawed some of the thorn grenades and looks around, cautious. He and Seven take the lead and trot around the assemble line has fast as Patience can make it, hopefully that car is not too far. Patience is tired and the girl¡­ She needs medical attention.


    They stop in front of the door. Seren does not need to shift her focus to know that it¡¯s clear.


    She steps forward at the same time as the other guy, look at each other then just go on.


    How did he know?


    Seren gets out first and holds the door for the two others, then they resume their formation and jog along the warehouse¡¯s exterior. The smells of a city reach caress her nose. She can even hear a distance honk. They move forward, fifty feet, thirty feet, fifteen feet.


    At fifteen feet they both stop. How did that guy know though. Patience is slower but catches on, then walks back. Seren can see that she is no longer crying. Instead, her face is resigned, but stern.


    ¡°Come out¡±


    Perhaps Seren should not have said that. Perhaps they should have run the other way, however, Seren is detached and she is also really, really fed up. Within five minutes she will be free, or dead, and she wants to be free.


    Another monster steps from the shadow, his ambush foiled. This one still looks mostly human but his long and clawed arms and the fangs betray him. He speaks in a nasal voice.


    "Well well ¡°snort¡±, I thought the missy or hunters had found us. But it¡¯s just another prey."


    He turns to the rescuer with a hungry look.


    ¡°You¡­¡±


    It looks like they know each other, how cute. The dude cocks his arm.


    Seren needs to provide an opening.


    ¡°Hey!¡±


    It works, the creature turns to her. The dude throws.


    Seren doesn''t know wether this one is smarter or it¡¯s just bad luck but he dodges to the right and swipes with his claw.


    There is another boom, but this time only one flower blooms.


    The monster backs off and howls. He grabs the bloody stump of his mangled right hand and screams in anger. Seren is already moving forward.


    The memory of the voice of Vassily, her grizzled sword teacher, brushes her mind. His heavily accented English mocking.


    ¡°It is one try, yes? Every time, you only have one try.¡±


    Seren swallows her fear, her grief, and even her anger. She forgets about the others with her, and the sun on her skin, and the pain in her shoulder and in her head, and dehydration, and switches her focus and the paths on one task. Killing.


    Seren is detached.


    She falls forward in a feint, the monster swipes his monstruous arm in an arc trying to catch her. Seren moves back at the last moment and lowers her weapon, letting him brush the air above the spear as she lunges. The tip of the spear flies forward and pierces into the monster¡¯s chest.


    Not deep enough.


    Even before her movement is done she rotates to her left and catches the return. The monster¡¯s arm rams the shaft into her arms and her chest and she exhales as the momentum moves her backward. She rolls back as she hit the ground and prepares her counter attack, then blinks. This is not what she expected.


    Their would be savior has grabbed the monster¡¯s one remaining arm and is trying to push him away from her. She rushes forward but too late.


    The monster dismissively backhands him with his mutilated arm then swipes him with the other one. There is a metallic reaping sound, not what Seren expected, but when he draws back his hand there is just a bit of blood on the claws.


    Seren lungs forward and hits the monster in its mangled arm, not a killing blow. She dodges yet another swipe and counters before pulling back and hitting his healthy arms on the back swing. She does not let him go to forward, nor does she let him hit the spear as it would surely disarm her, but Seren is tiring. The thing is too strong and too fast and it looks bigger and less human than before. Even its clothes are stretched on its mishappen frame. Seren on the other hand is exhausted, dehydrated and hurt. She needs to end this fast.


    Seren puts everything she has in the next few attacks, pushing the creature backward and scoring another hit. She is flying, letting the paths and her training guide her.


    One try.


    Seren fights her exhaustion and the migraine that tells her she is about to drop. Just a few more seconds. She is detached. Detached. The paths flow around her in delicate spirals and the spear moves in a blur.


    Thunder explodes in the cloudy sky. No, not thunder.


    Gunshots


    The creature shivers as bullets hit it from the back. This will not kill it though, Seren knows it as surely as she knows that she has won.


    Seren guides her spear in a perfect thrust and shoves it in the monster¡¯s throat, but that is not enough, it prepares to swipe.


    In a totally not within regulation move, Seren kicks the creature in the chest with all her might as it is just about to jump. It looks really surprised for an instant before falling backward.


    On a land mind.


    The two remaining thorn grenades go off when the monster¡¯s back drop on them and the shockwave pushes Seren back. She falls on the ground. In her field of vision there is the top of a warehouse wall, the top of a tree and little bits of black. The little bits of black fall on her body and face and turn out to be blood and body parts. There is something wet on her cheek.


    Seren raises her head. Yep, that shirt is definitely done for. No saving it now. The rescuer is leaning against the warehouse wall and holding his left arm. He checks his hand and frowns when he sees blood although there isn¡¯t much of it. A fifth person is rushing toward them. He is a tall man with short cropped red hairs and an attitude that screams cop. In his hand is the kind of hand cannon that people use when they want to hunt dinosaurs or if they have to compensate for a really, really tiny dick. He stares at the mess on the ground then shakes himself.


    ¡°What the fuck¡±


    Seren could not have put it better herself.


    Then she faints.

 Arc 2: The crucible. 2.1 There is a time for fighting and a time for healing

    Nathan scratches idly at his shoulders and tries to consider the problem from another angle but it doesn¡¯t work. He is genuinely screwed. It¡¯s not about the people, Sarah is stable and the two other women, Seren and Patience, are safe. It is not about the money, his hospital bill is covered by insurance and his risky behavior validated by something called the ¡°Good Samaritan Act¡±, Detective Henkel was the one to tell him that. It is not even his job although the management will not like him acting like a vigilante. You do not want your head of after sales going on a rampage. No, the real problem is that people know.


    If only detective Henkel had not come. Seren would have won regardless since the creature was literally falling apart, each spear-inflicted wound growing more dire by the second. If only dead Varogs turnt back to human. With the creature dead, its illusion had lifted and Henkel had stared at the monstrous remains with what could only be described as shell shock. If only he had not called for reinforcement. But no, the cops had notified someone and a couple of weird looking agents had asked questions while he played dumb. One of them was some Eastern looking slick dude and the other Ivan Drago¡¯s big brother hooked on steroids. And they had questions. How did he find the place? He had followed a man who looked like the stalker while going shopping for gardening supplies. Why not call the police? He was not sure it was actually him, then he was too scared by all the blood. The monsters? What monsters, just criminals high on drugs.


    What about the fucking chain mail?


    Nathan had been wearing a chain mail under his shirt. A gift from his mother. That was the reason why his arm was still attached.


    "It¡¯s good as a conditioning exercise. Excellent for cardio. Yep."


    The guys did not look like they were buying into his bullshit at all but they had left, but they would come back, oh yes, and then what¡­


    ¡°Excuse me, are you, are you Nathan Turner?¡±


    Nathan turns to find out that his dark musings were interrupted by a fifty something woman with a short stature and the tell-tale wavy hair.


    ¡°Are you related to Sarah?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m her Mom, oh, the nice detective told us everything, thank you, thank you!¡±


    The woman jumps on Nathan and holds him in a bear hug. Behind her, a balding man with teary eyes pats Nathan on his good shoulder.


    ¡°Thank you son. Thank you.¡±


    Nathan inexplicably finds himself flooded with relief and calm. For the first time in three days, a natural smile forces itself on his face.


    The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    ¡°You¡¯re welcome.¡±


    Nathan¡¯s problems are still unsolved but he feels at ease, because he knows that regardless of everything going on at the moment, he made the right decision..


    ¡°Hey girl.¡±


    ¡°Hey.¡±


    Sarah¡¯s eyes are clouded with exhaustion and painkillers. Nathan forces his eyes not to travel to her missing forearm. He is the first to break the silence


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry. I should have¡­¡±


    ¡°Do you know why I divorced?¡±


    Nathan shuts up on the spot. He remembers the day a very pregnant and very calm Sarah had shown up early, told him that she was getting a divorce, that she would need a few days of at some point to handle the administrative end of things and that they would not talk about it any further. Since that day, Sarah¡¯s matrimonial status had passed politics and religion as the team¡¯s top one taboo topic.


    ¡°Hum. No?¡±


    ¡°He refused to come and pick me up at the store. He said I could ¡°take the bus or something¡±.¡±


    Nathan knows that Sarah¡¯s ex husband is military and that soldiers live through some crazy things, however telling your heavily pregnant wife that she can ¡°take the bus or something¡± instead of picking her up when you are on leave is really pushing it. He just nods silently because he knows Sarah is going somewhere with this.


    ¡°It sounds like a stupid reason for divorcing right?¡±


    Nathan stays silent because he really doesn¡¯t know.


    "It¡¯s funny how someone I have known for seven years has slowly become a stranger, and that it took something so little to make me realize we had nothing left in common, not even family. Isaac and I, we mattered so little that he could not get off the couch to pick us up. That¡¯s how I finally realized¡­ You know. That is was over. But you.. You¡­¡±


    ¡°Sarah¡­¡±


    "Quiet! You came and saved me from this nightmare¡­ You don¡¯t even owe me anything. Hell. We are not even real friends.¡±


    Sarah is crying now and Nathan wonders what he should do, so he goes around the bed and take her good hand in his.


    ¡°How did you even¡­ ¡°


    Nathan can see when the memory returns to Sarah. Her face shows an emotion he had never seen her show before.


    Absolute terror.


    ¡°Nathan I think I¡¯m going crazy!¡±


    ¡°No you are not.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t understand!¡±


    ¡°I saw then as well, and we killed them.¡±


    ¡°You¡­ You did? But they were¡­¡±


    Nathan lowers his voice and checks the door.¡±


    ¡°Yes I saw what they were. We killed them Sarah, both of them.¡±


    "Oh Nate, Nate¡­"


    He does not understand. Shouldn¡¯t she be relived?


    ¡°Nate, there were four of them! Four!¡±


    Nathan freezes, his reassuring expression stuck on his face like a bad mask, but only for an instant.


    ¡°I¡¯ll kill them too Sarah. Don¡¯t worry. I¡¯ll kill them too.¡±


    Terror ever so slowly gives way to resolve on Sarah¡¯s tear stained face. She nods once.


    ¡°I believe you Nate. ¡°


    She closes her eyes and finally goes to sleep.


    Nathan walks away slowly. At least two more Varogs, and he has run out of weapon. Something tells him that Gwahin¡¯s blood trade was a onetime offer born out of his need for tools and her need for power to fuel her belated growth. The situation may look bad but it¡¯s not hopeless: Nathan has ressources, he also has potential allies. Sarah is definitely not going to go hunting any time soon, but Henkel might help and he is a cop. He doesn¡¯t know about Patience, but the Seren girl would definitely be a great help. He thinks he felt something coming from her even though the whole place was saturated with the stench of Varogs, but that doesn¡¯t even matter.


    Nathan shivers as he recalls the fight. It was not that she had beaten a Varog one on one with a glorified stake. It was not that the Varog had failed to draw blood even once. It was not even the fact she had managed all of this while looking like death warmed over. No. It was her face. Nathan had looked into the visage of the Varog, wounded and screaming, distorted with rabid rage and malice, yet the one who had scared him had been a grim and pale mask, cold and beautiful like a statue of marble and moonstone. A goddess of war and murder. Nathan had looked into Seren¡¯s eyes and felt the same thing he had felt when looking at a fighter plane on that air show, or that tiger on his family trip to Thailand, the lizard part of your brain telling you: this thing is made to kill.


    He needs her on his side.


    Not now though, now he needs sleep and rest.

 2.2 Never look down on a boon.

    Nathan closes the door behind him the immediately freezes. There is someone watching TV in his living room. A very brief inspection reveals Gwahin¡¯s lively aura.


    Bismarck comes with a meow and bumps against his leg with the strength of a small battering ram.


    ¡°Your cat is extraordinary dear host. Do you know that he tried to challenge me?¡±


    ¡°Did he really?¡±


    ¡°Yes, although an agreement was quickly reached when he felt I was not an intruder.¡±


    Nathan stares at Bismarck thoughtfully. A guard cat? Huh.


    Bismarck stares at the paper bags in Nathan¡¯s hand thoughtfully. Smart cat.


    ¡°You are alive and you do not exude despair, therefore I assume that your expedition was successful and that you rescued your friend¡­ But wait.¡±


    Nathan drops the bags in the kitchen and shoves the cold stuff in his fridge with a total disregard for proper fridge organization. Gwahin enters the kitchen and sniffs the air with a predatory look. Black and gold eyes turn to him.


    ¡°You are hurt! How could you!¡±


    Nathan ignores the fact that she has grown a few inches since yesterday and raises a placating hand.


    ¡°Shower first. Explanations later.¡±


    ¡°I should perhaps remind you what your status as ahost entails in term of duties and¡­¡±


    ¡°There is a small brewery around here that makes artisanal mead and I got you a bottle since you mentioned libation and such.¡±


    ¡°Nevermind Nathan Mordred Turner you are doing well. Where are the glasses?¡±


    ¡°Behind you, upper shelf. You don¡¯t want to drink it in the skull of your enemies or something?¡±


    ¡°Alas I first need to rebuild my collection, and gather river stones big enough to cover the orbits.¡±


    Nathan smiles at the joke and climbs the stairs to his bedroom.


    That was a joke right?


    ¡°Two of them? And four in total? Are you sure?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m pretty sure yeah.¡±


    ¡°There is no need to be sarcastic dear host. Any more of that meat jerky? Thank you. Two of them is unheard of.¡±


    ¡°Can I ask why? Do you still need fertilizer?¡±


    ¡°Let us cut to the chase, I will act as your really good friend and answer all of your questions and in return, you will carry all those fertilizer bags in your car to my tree as soon as it is convenient. Yes?¡±The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.


    ¡°How did you know?!¡±


    ¡°I am old and wise and smart. ¡°


    ¡°And modest.¡±


    ¡°Indeed. Also! You should stock up on those honey covered nuts, you can thank me later. Ask away!¡±


    Nathan lets his eyes slide on the paper strewn, food covered mess that his living room table has become, and wonders of it is a valid metaphor for his life. Gwahin is snarfing food with speed and gusto, no longer bothering to hide her nightmarish teeth. One of her eyes sometimes wanders to look at the TV, set on a nonstop news channel. The other stares in his soul beneath an arched brow. He sighs.


    ¡°Alright. How are four Varogs unusual?¡±


    ¡°This will be a long one. Let me give you a short summary of world¡¯s history related to magic. Oh yes, first, what is magic. It is the fabric that binds physical reality and thought. Intent. Whatever sentient creatures capable of enough abstraction to define concepts have. Some creatures that are not capable of abstraction can still use some aspects of it by instinct but they are the exception. Magic is the link between everything, it exists everywhere and ultimately obeys no rule but that of intent. Intent affects the world literally through magic. We Yol call it the flow, and manipulating it is called weaving. This definition is true for us, and other species have other definitions, that are true for them, and because of the flow¡¯s very nature all versions are true. ¡°


    ¡°Wait would that not limit you? I mean, if you define something as true then you limit yourself to it right? If you say it¡¯s true you cannot, say, move a stone with your thought but the other species says you can, then you can¡¯t and they can, right?¡±


    Gwahin¡¯s eyes glint with amusement.


    ¡°You are a worthy pupil. Sometimes. Your point is valid and leads to this fortunate corollary. Even though the flow is without limit, sentients are not. Your own intent, your will, can only carry you so far and the rest comes from training and¡­ Affinity. Surely you have realized that I am bound to what you think of as nature. Yes?¡±


    ¡°Um. Yes?¡±


    ¡°And so I can weave the flow of those things that are related with nature with ease, because I understand them and I have, for lack of a better term, affinity. Similarly, fire scares me and I would be hard pressed to use it because it goes contrary to my nature. I would be pushing my will against both magic and myself. Even if I have affinity with something, I can only push it so far because magic is a link and a force, reality is still reality and I am a thing of flesh, I grow tired and I fail. So do all sentient things yes?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know, do they?¡±


    ¡°They do.¡±


    ¡°Ok. So why do I not know about magic. I think people would have noticed fireballs. For that matter I think people should have noticed the Yol, and the Varogs. And dragons and stuff.¡±


    Gwahin unexpectedly shivers.


    ¡°Do not speak of Dragons.¡±


    ¡°They exist?¡±


    ¡°I¡­ Do not know. To go back to your previous question, there was a time millennia ago when magic was abundant, or so it was told to me. Then something happened. We Yol do not remember what. Magic mostly left the world and entities that depended on it had to make a choice: adapt and stay, leave, or die. I know that before, we did not have to bind our existences to trees and that Yol lived in big communities. Now we are scattered, hidden and isolated, for there is too little of the flow to allow large groups to sustain themselves. Varogs mixed with the human population and went dormant. Only a few would manifest and remember what they are, and those would quickly be hunted. Four Varogs together is unheard of. It appears, that the flow is waxing.¡±


    ¡°Wait, what? How do you know?¡±


    ¡°There are places where the flow grows stronger and it first I thought this forest was it but¡­ No. The flow has become more powerful. Slowly, but surely. There is also the Varogs all waking up at the same time. And there is you.¡±


    ¡°Me?¡±


    ¡°A human who can weave without being taught, and with such affinity. You remember those hunters I mentioned? Those are humans who can weave. They are different from you. They have to be taught, to be shown, and they have to congregate in places of power in order to weave. Their magic is a cold one, a thing of logic and reason. You though, are different. You weave by instinct, and this could not happen unless the flow is growing again. Even if you are a born weaver¡±


    ¡°That sounds weird, there should be people who should be able to weave by instinct. That should depend on people, not the flow.¡±


    ¡°You are correct in saying that weaving abilities depend on people, but as I mentioned it also depends on intent. Those who can weave instinctively are exceedingly rare and even those that can do not believe in it. Therefore, they do not weave. Even in places of power where they might feel something, they will not believe they can. It is only natural for your species. You have a strong sense of logic.¡±


    ¡°So that¡¯s it? Humans are all magic wielders who are out of magic?!¡±


    ¡°No, as I said, you need affinity, which is rare in humans, and you also need practice.¡±


    ¡°Alright so those humans who can already weave, where are they and how do I find them?¡±


    ¡°They should already be here, I do not know much of hunters save that they intervene fast if they find out about a Varog. I am not sure that you should go look for them.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°Well for one if they find out that I live with you they will come and try to kill me. All magic creatures are kill on sight for them.¡±


    ¡°What the fuck?!¡±


    ¡°Precisely. You are also an unknown and a free weaver. They might not take it kindly.¡±


    ¡°Would they not try to recruit me? Not that I want to join a group that kills Yols on sight but¡­¡±


    ¡°I am going to be prosaic Nathan Mordred Turner, but when I say not kindly I mean they will get medieval on your ass with white hot irons, whips and agony weavings.¡±


    ¡°Right.¡±


    Nathan stares into Gwahin¡¯s molten gold eyes. As if sensing his mistrust she bares herself. Warm power rushes over him , vivid and alive and stronger than before. Gwahin feels better than she used to, even if there is still a hint of loneliness in her aura. What gathers most of Nathan¡¯s attention though is a strange realization.


    ¡°You¡­ You cannot lie?¡±


    ¡°No.¡±


    Nathan licks his lips.


    ¡°You cannot lie but you can tell part of the truths.¡±


    ¡°I am sure that if the hunters get their hands on you, you will be treated as a threat to them, and that is before they learn that you have given hospitality to a non human.¡±


    ¡°Ok so let me summarize: magic is stronger, for some reason. There are still at least two Varogs around and they can probably find out we killed two of them. Human magic users have gone somewhere and even if they had not they would be hostile. So. I need resources.¡±


    ¡°I am afraid so dear host, and while I can now offer some manner of protection while you are here, as long as you step into the city you are fair game.¡±


    Gwahin has a good poker face but Nathan knows she is leading him somewhere, to something. Then it dawns on him. There is only one conclusion that she would drive him forward to by telling him this situation.


    ¡°About that boon. Can a Yol teach a human how to weave?¡±


    The smile on gwahin¡¯s face is bone-chilling.


    ¡°Why Nathan Mordred Turner, I thought you would never ask.¡±

 Interlude - Phone call 2

    ¡°Nate? NATE!¡±


    ¡°Hey Mom.¡±


    ¡°How DARE you? How dare you¡­¡±


    ¡°Mom I had to do it. You know it.¡±


    ¡°No I don¡¯t know it! How about letting the police do their fucking job, what are you? Superman?¡±Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.


    ¡°They couldn¡¯t do anything.¡±


    ¡° ¡­¡±


    ¡°I swear.¡±


    ¡°I find it¡­ Hard to believe. Explain.¡±


    ¡°They were monsters. Actual flesh eating monsters.¡±


    ¡°Nathan, are you high?!¡±


    ¡°No. And one of them ripped my chainmail open. Left arm.¡±


    ¡°The chainmail I got you for your eighteenth birthday?¡±


    ¡°Hum. The police has It for now.¡±


    ¡°OH! That¡¯s it, as soon as this job is done I¡¯m coming over. I swear if this is a sick joke!¡±


    ¡°Mom¡­¡±


    ¡°Don''t!¡±


    Click.


    Shit.

 2.3 Manage expectations

    The alarm clock screams like some fucking rabid banshee forcing Nathan to reach his night stand and punch the ever loving shit out of it. As his sixth alarm clock this year falls to the ground in a loud crash, Nathan higher brain functions finally kick in and he realizes that the infernal sound is, in fact, coming from his cellphone.


    Nathan debates with himself for only a couple of second before having to admit that he will not be able to propel the noisy thingie through his bedroom window. He manages to punch the answer symbol with a vengeful thumb, barely noticing the fact that the caller ID is hidden.


    ¡°Mmmnfrgyea?¡±


    ¡°Mr Turner? This is detective Henkel.¡±


    ¡°Do you know what time it is?¡±


    ¡°Yes, it is currently 1PM.¡±


    Huh.


    Nathan checks the time. It is, in fact, 1PM. He curbs his desire to uncork the good detective¡¯s head from his body and use his intestines as Christmas decorations, since calling him in the afternoon is perfectly normal. Yes, perfectly normal. And he is on sick leave, so, no pressure.


    ¡°What do you want?¡±


    ¡°Did I really wake you up? Because I can hear a car engine in the background and I know you live in the countryside.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s my cat purring you hear.¡±


    Detective Henkel knows where Nathan lives. Well that¡¯s to be expected. What is also to be expected is that authorities will have some further embarrassing questions such as how come the kidnapper¡¯s bodies look like horror props that had been used as target practice by an artillery battalion.


    ¡°Ok, listen, I¡¯m not good at this sort of things. I¡¯m not supposed to contact you, but we really need to talk, it¡¯s also in your interest, trust me.¡±


    ¡°You have my attention.¡±


    ¡°Ok so you are most likely under surveillance by now and for obvious reasons. You know you are deep in it right?¡±


    ¡°¡­ Yeah.¡±


    ¡°So we need to talk. Is there a back entrance to your house?¡±


    ¡°Well you can park on the other side and cross the forest it shouldn¡¯t be too hard. ¡°


    ¡°Right. I¡¯ll do that. Today?¡±


    ¡°Yeah today. I¡¯m not going anywhere.¡±


    ¡°Right, see you then.¡±


    Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    Nathan raises from the pile of paperwork and wonders how can Gwahin get in his house without making any noise. He is reasonably sure she cannot go through walls. He turns his head around and catches her entering the living room.


    Gwahin has two sets of smiles. The first one is very human and comes into several category: cute, peevish, pouty, sensual. The second one shows her teeth and is definitely PG 16 material. The one on her face right now is definitely a category two. It falls off when she realizes his eyes are on her.


    ¡°I thought my presence was well hidden. I must be getting rusty in my old age. ¡°


    Nathan lifts an eyebrow. She currently looks like someone who can¡¯t decide between dwarfism and puberty.


    ¡°And to what do I owe the pleasure?¡±


    ¡°I wanted to notify you that someone is spying on your property from the front, however they are outside and I am not bound to intervene.¡±


    ¡°Are they human?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°Then do not, that¡¯s the police.¡±


    ¡°Fine. Next! There is also someone currently sneaking up from the back.¡±


    ¡°Human?¡±


    ¡°Yes¡±


    That¡¯s also the police, but that one is on my side. He¡¯s my guest.¡±


    ¡°Aaawwwww really?! Really?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°Awwww. I dont know how I can comfort myself. Unless¡­ You still have some meat yes?¡±


    ¡°You can get jerky, there is also leftover bacon in the fridge.¡±


    Gwahin is already through the door.


    Nathan sighs and stares at forms. He can finish later. Or tomorrow. Ah tomorrow, where most of mankind¡¯s productivity is stored. No. Enough procrastination.


    ¡°By zhe way can ashk you a questhion?¡±


    Oh well it¡¯s not procrastination he is just entertaining his guest. It¡¯s his responsibility. Really.


    ¡°Can you finish chewing first?¡±


    Gwahin swallows the equivalent of a burger steak in a single gulp and licks her lips, showing just a hint of teeth. Nathan wonders if one way he will get used to her strange mix of humanity and alienness. Probably not.


    ¡°I am familiar with the role of the police. Do you intend to use them to seek the Varogs?¡±


    ¡°Yes, I do. It will probably be unofficial though I don¡¯t think getting too much attention would be healthy right now.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°Hum even if they believed me, I don''t think authorities are comfortable with not understanding and controlling stuff.¡±


    ¡°No I mean why do you intend to hunt the Varogs?¡±


    Gwahin¡¯s face looks calm and attentive but there is an immobility to her that gives a curious weight to the question. Nathan deduces that she cares about the answer.


    ¡°Why do you hunt the Varogs? Why did you save Sarah? You are not a true altruist Nathan Mordred Turner, you are a loner. You live alone in a house away from your kind, you do not invite people over and you do not provide shelter and food even though you could. Yet you go to help someone you have no feelings for. I felt it yesterday. You do not care about that Sarah of yours like a lover would, nor like a brother would. So why?¡±


    ¡°Wow hey I actually give to charities you know?¡±


    ¡°Does this represent a sizable portion of your income? Do you also spend time helping others?¡±


    ¡°No. ¡°


    ¡°Then you helped someone that you had not helped before, and you will probably not help afterward. Sarah¡­¡±


    ¡°Is in good hands.¡±


    ¡°Is at a hospital, defenseless and you have not checked on her since you left.¡±


    ¡°I assume you have a point?¡±


    ¡°Yes. Do you not think that you are being hypocritical? You care yet you care not? You are preparing to hunt Varogs yet do not protect their likely victim?¡±


    ¡°Well Gwahin, you see, you are taking this the wrong way. You are judging me, saying that I have done little before this rescue and will probably do little after, a point which I am unwilling to debate. But at least I did something! Contrary to what you seem to imply, I do not have any real obligation to do good, but I still do it sometimes. I pick my fights, however modest they are and I make things better at my scale and if I can. And finally please do remember that I agreed to accompany Sarah home at first, and maybe if I hadn¡¯t she would already be dead, and secondly, let me remind you that your tree is currently rooted in MY garden hmmm? Do not try to guilt trip me. I know I¡¯m not Ghandi and will never be, but I still care for a few people and will actually act on it.¡±


    ¡°That does not answer my question.¡±


    ¡°Alright here is an answer: I do not relate to people easily but if I do, I will be there for them when they need me. Sarah is one of them. And she¡¯s as safe as she is going to get at the hospital, it¡¯s a super public place and the police is keeping an eye on her.¡±


    Gwahin stays silent for a few seconds, then a small (category one) smile slowly emerges on her face.


    ¡°This does answer my question Mordred Nathan Turner, and several others too.¡±


    ¡°Can I ask the reason for those questions? I mean, would it not have been better to ask all of this before you took roots on my turf?¡±


    ¡°Beggars cannot be choosers, but knowing one¡¯s host is always valuable. Also! I really like to tease mortals and have them face their own contradictions. I never tire of it.¡±


    ¡°So you did interact with mortals before. I thought you were hidden.¡±


    ¡°It happens sometimes, mostly when hunters come and think to ¡°purge¡± the woods from our presence.¡±


    ¡°Do I really want to know?¡±


    ¡°Did I ever mention my skull collections?¡±


    ¡°You seem really interested in principles for someone who doesn¡¯t sound like they have any.¡±


    ¡°Sarcasm! Insults! You are a terrible host Nathan.¡±


    Nathan stares up. Gwahin is just being playful. He doesn¡¯t really know how to take her. Sometimes she is just funny and teasing but sometimes he looks at her and is reminded that she is something else. She could have manipulated him or done something to him and yet she has been helpful. No, more than helpful. Essential. Without her, he would never have found Sarah. She reminds him of those videos of lions being kind to their caretakers, then you see the same lions take down a buffalo. He just hopes that she remains on his side because he is certain that he is no longer able to stop her.


    ¡°And now I do believe your guest is about ready to deposit several pounds of mud on your floor.¡±


    Ah yes.

 2.4 Give every negotiation your best shot

    Nathan walks to his house¡¯s back door and opens it at the moment Henkel is about to knock, making him jump in surprise. The detective is dressed in outside clothes, warm and comfortable to Nathan¡¯s lazy day sweats. Nathan gives him a knowing smile as if it wasn¡¯t pure luck. It is always better to look more competent than you are. It is also bad to set expectations and then fail to meet them so Nathan tunes down his smile and invites Henkel inside.


    The detective takes one step inside and Nathan realizes that Gwahin had not been exaggerating that much.


    ¡°Uh, can you take your shoes off? ¡°


    Henkel looks like he is reluctant to do so. He was maybe hoping on the possibility of a quick gateway. Walking in socks through north western New Jersey backwoods is no fun, especially in this season.


    ¡°Look, you want to do this outside?¡±


    ¡°No, it¡¯s alright.¡±


    Henkel fumbling betrays his nervousness. Nathan decides to leave him at it and pours some tea. There is something vaguely obscene about watching someone take off their shoes, especially if they are nervous. Curious.


    Henkel sits on the couch across from Nathan. He has kept his coat and must be very hot but hey, it¡¯s his problem.


    ¡°Ok you must have questions so ask.¡±


    Henkel licks his lips once or twice and Nathan realizes he was wrong. The good detective is not nervous. He is scared shitless.


    ¡°Alright then. First I must say, I must say that we are onto you, and by we I mean, the cops, but not my unit. Some suit pulled rank and got us to transfer all the files related to my partner¡¯s murder to them.¡±


    ¡°The guy in the car? That was your partner?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, and mentor. He was a good man, genuinely cared about people. It¡¯s not easy when you spend your life dealing with the worst mankind has to offer.¡±


    ¡°For what it¡¯s worth, I¡¯m sorry¡±.


    ¡°Yeah, yeah. Alright. So they got this and the stuff related to the kidnappings. We don¡¯t do kidnappings that¡¯s another unit. They are watching you now if you try to run you¡¯re toast. ¡°


    ¡°I haven¡¯t been charged with anything.¡±


    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t count on them following all the rules, they look like they have a lot of pull. And they are assholes.¡±


    ¡°How do you know?¡±


    ¡°The way their boss looks at you when he speaks. That Indian looking guy. You met him at the hospital. When he stares at you, it feels like you¡¯re just an item on his to do list, not a person. He doesn¡¯t give a shit. You know what I mean?¡±


    ¡°I do.¡±


    ¡°Yeah so. Anyway, I don¡¯t think you¡¯re with¡­Those things.¡±


    There is something almost pathetic in Henkel¡¯s harried face. Nathan realizes that he had been raised by a dreamer and that his childhood had been filled with tales of chivalry, of dragons and demons and mysterious lands clouded in mist. Reality had been a disappointment but now things were looking up, after a fashion. Henkel may have a different perspective. How would one feel if one thought one had seen the worst and find out the stuff of your nightmares has dismembered girls in your precinct? That would be horrifying.


    ¡°I am really not.¡±


    ¡°Alright then, so what are they anyway.¡±


    ¡°First I want to tell you that four days ago I had no idea those things were even real. The first time I faced the Stalker I thought I was going crazy. ¡°


    ¡°The stalker?¡±


    ¡°Yeah the guy Sarah and I reported on Friday, the one you shot in the back.¡±


    ¡°Jesus fuck, really?!¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°I did not recognize him at all. I thought he was, you know, inside.¡±


    If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.


    ¡°Wait. You knew him?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, but let¡¯s get back to that later. You haven¡¯t answered my question. What are those.¡±


    ¡°They are flesh eating monsters, apparently they are called¡­¡±


    Nathan hesitates, the less Henkel knows about Gwahin, the better for both of them.


    ¡°Eaters.¡±


    Technically true.


    ¡°I know from them because I got access to a source of information through sheer luck.¡±


    Nathan turns around to grab tea, it¡¯s going to be a long discussion. When he turns back, he stares down the black muzzle of a barrel.


    Henkel is backed into the couch and is holding a handgun in a death grip. His breaths are shallows and sweet is dripping down his brow. He looks like he is just about ready to run away.


    Nathan should be scared, and in normal times he would be. Nathan thinks people forget that guns are the apex creation of millennia of research and efforts into killing people. He doesn¡¯t. He isn¡¯t even numb enough not to care. There is something though, that prevents him from feeling fear, and that thing is white hot anger.


    ¡°Henkel I swear on everything I hold dear if you fire that thing at me it will be the last fucking thing you do, ever.¡±


    As if reacting to his anger, Nathan feels a new aura. It is the comforting smell of wood burning in a campsite, and the smooth touch of obsidian. The aura is both warm and cold and so very familiar. With a start, Nathan realizes it is his own. He has an aura.


    Answering his anger, the feral presence of Gwahin overwhelms his senses and the urgency of the situation dawns on him.


    ¡°Detective you are my guest here, your behavior is unacceptable.¡±


    ¡°Ok, ok, it¡¯s just¡­¡±


    ¡°Look I told you I am not on their side and I won¡¯t do anything to hurt you so stop this. What are you going to do, shoot me in my house with a weapon that¡¯s registered to you? While I was threatening you with a teapot?¡±


    ¡°Alright sorry buddy. It¡¯s just. I thought I had seen some shit but the past few days¡­¡±


    Henkel is starting to calm down even though is eyes are still moving left and right, scanning the room for threats.


    ¡°Ok. So about the gun?¡±


    ¡°Oh yeah, my backup weapon, a Smith and Wesson SD40. I like it.¡±


    ¡°No I mean please put it away.¡±


    Gwahin is standing right behind Henkel. Nathan can see no visible weapon but there is no mistaking the menace that rolls off her in waves. Henkel relents though, and Gwahin walks away on silent feet after a last look at Nathan.


    It is both comforting to know she is here to defend him and worrisome that she might just have killed the good detective. Nathan thinks he can still manage the situation but if the suits Henkel spoke of find out a cop died on his property, he is well and thoroughly fucked.


    ¡°I¡¯ll work with you and tell you what I found out but I¡¯m not telling you how I got it and if you ever pull that shit again we¡¯re done. Got it?¡±


    ¡°You know I have been threatened by more intimidating people, but A for effort. Alright. Eaters. ¡°


    This was not going very well. Nathan¡¯s first prospective human ally had pulled a gun on him and the next one was a lithe blond girl who had just suffered a horrific trauma. Now that the action is over, he can already feel a headache building behind his eyes and exhaustion coming back with a vengeance. Grasping at straws, he tells Henkel all he knows without telling him how he knows it.


    ¡°So if normal weapon don¡¯t work well against them what was that thing you were using. We never found it. ¡°


    ¡°That was an infused weapon. I don¡¯t know exactly how it works but I¡¯ll try to get some more.¡±


    ¡°From that anonymous source?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°Can you get an infused flamethrower?¡±


    A snort comes from the kitchen. Henkel does not look like he noticed.


    ¡°I don''t think it works that way. I think you need the weapon to be really personal, perhaps it¡¯s even better if you do it yourself.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re not as dumb as you look!¡± Can be heard over his pantry being methodically devoured.


    Henkel blinks and touches his ear thoughtfully. So he cannot hear her if she doesn¡¯t want to be heard.


    ¡°Alright, but it can slow them down.¡±


    ¡°Yeah. There is one last thing, they are, huh, hard to notice.¡±


    ¡°But you can notice them?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not sure.¡±


    Technically true.


    ¡°Alright. I¡¯ll let it go. Now, onto the real problem. How do we find them and kill them.¡±


    So there is a we now huh.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know. Why don¡¯t you tell me what you know and I¡¯ll use that to ask my anonymous source?¡±


    Again, they stared at each other.


    ¡°I cannot give you details as this is an ongoing investigation.¡±


    ¡°Curious. I was under the impression that you were off the case and that we were having a friendly conversation at my place, you having a gun at hand just being one of your many quirks. Or am I wrong?¡±


    There is a pause as Henkel weighs his options.


    In the end, the need to stop the Varogs, or as Nathan suspects, to take back control of his world leads him to a decision.


    Henkel sits back down on the couch and reasserts himself. It¡¯s funny how the same scared man who had crossed his threshold can now look so composed and professional. Henkel starts explaining the situation with a military precision and the assertiveness of a seasoned professional.


    ¡°The situation is the following. The suits I mentioned questioned me for two hours straight. The boss was furious. The suits only wanted to cover everything and the explanations? As much bullshit as a presidential rally. They don¡¯t care that people died or that Charlie bit it protecting a vic but I do, so I made a few calls I wasn¡¯t supposed to make and talked to a few people I wasn¡¯t supposed to contact, that sort of things. Here is what I found out:


    The first abduction attempt I know off happened in the state of New York last Thursday, that was Patience and a fellow nurse. The other nurse, a Veronica Truman, escaped with a few lacerations and she was talking about an ugly man. No monster for her. The second abduction was on Friday evening right next to Atlantic City. Seren Nechayeva, the student, and her boyfriend Milo Lambrou. Milo was killed and they got the girl but left her handbag with her ID on the ground. The dude I spoke to said Milo was fucking butchered. ¡°


    Henkel sighs and looks dejected, but only for a moment.


    ¡°I haven¡¯t seen her since you freed her because of the suits. Then there is you and Sarah. The last important thing is that they always seem to move in rental vans that they rent under their own names. Now this tells me a few things. First, they attack pairs, second they don¡¯t care if we find out who they are and that means that if they do this again we can find them out easy, and last, they are sloppy.¡±


    ¡°Sloppy?¡±


    ¡°Yeah. I mean I don¡¯t think either you or Veronica were meant to escape and after you did they stopped coming after you guys. It¡¯s weird, but there is a pattern and if we can find the logic behind it¡­¡±


    Nathan wants to think for a while but the headache and tiredness make his mind muddy. It¡¯s probably better to just talk about it with Gwahin at some point.


    ¡°There is something else. Take a look at that.¡±


    Henkel takes out a folded piece of paper from one of his large pockets. Despite the fact that the photo is slightly crumpled and the quality isn¡¯t great there is no mistaking the tattoo.


    ¡°Wait. What? That¡¯s the stalker?!¡±


    The man on the photo is handsome in a rakish way, with curly dark hair and a slightly angular face. He is smiling and posing elegantly in a well tailored suit. The only thing they have in common besides the tattoo are a certain similarity in the face and their eyes. Trying to make the images of the stalker and this guy match in his head is difficult for Nathan, it reminds him of before/after pictures, except this time it¡¯s warning you about the effect of the heavy consumption of ultracrack and ubermeth with a generous sprinkling of asbestos.


    What the actual fuck.


    ¡°I knew the guy.¡±


    ¡°You did?¡±


    ¡°Andrew Wilcott. Thirty-three. Small time crook but mostly non-violent except for one case of domestic abuse.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s violent enough for me.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s because you haven¡¯t seen what a man can do to another with a baseball bat. In my line of occupation you get to see the world in several shades of grey, so one case of abuse is mostly non violent.¡±


    ¡°Alright, well, it confirms what I was told before. It doesn¡¯t help us much though, I don¡¯t think we can find them before they, well, manifest. Last thing, do you have the¡­ The victim¡¯s contact information?¡±


    Henkel gives him a blank stare.


    ¡°I mean the people I rescued, Seren and Patience.¡±


    ¡°Oh ok buddy. I guess. Yeah I should be able to find that pretty easily. I¡¯ll get back to you on that.¡±


    ¡°Good I need to check on a few things then we can start to find a way to get the two last ones.¡±


    ¡°Do you really believe they will be the last ones?¡±


    Nathan and Henkel silently look at each other in the eye. There is really no need for answers. They both know that this has just started.

 2.5 Leave a lasting impression.

    Seren is lying on her bed with her dark thoughts and the hoodie that still smells like him. Her mind is a prisoner, trapped in a loop of problems without solutions, jumping from one to another like a dying man searching for water. There is no salvation, just the ticking of a clock and the noise of the campus.


    Milo is dead, there is no solution.


    She missed Monday¡¯s competition and lost her sports scholarship, there is no solution. She had tried to negotiate, arguing that abduction and assault are an extreme case. She had bloodied her knuckles on the wall of bureaucracy, begged and hustled. To no avail.


    Her mother is dead. There had never been a solution but she misses her now more than ever. Her mother would have known what to say, and when to keep silent.


    Without the scholarship she may not be able to stay in Cornell at all. She has already emptied Milo¡¯s place of her stuff and placed the key beneath the welcome mat for his ex wife to find. She had taken his favorite statue, a stylized ballet dancer cut from a single marble block. She had hidden it in her bag and ran home, feeling like a thief all the way. Or is it grave robber?


    The welcome mat is a private joke between them. Was, a private joke. It says ¡°nice panties¡± and is a reference to the first time she had worn a dress for him. Now the joke is gone and only the tasteless mat remains.


    She could still get enough money. Cornell itself does not offer scholarships for athletes and it¡¯s too late in the year anyway. Maybe another loan. That would be difficult with no collateral. She could eventually end up forced to beg her dad but, well, she cannot bear to talk to him right now. And she knows what his answer will be. He has not even called yet. Maybe he doesn¡¯t even know.


    If only the paths could lead her to a stash of money, but they are more literal. How do I live, how do I flee, where did he run, where will he strike are questions that work well. Lead me to a big stash of money doesn¡¯t. Hopefully, she just needs a little bit more practice.


    Her phone buzzes on the night stand. It¡¯s Yuki asking her about tonight¡¯s training session.


    She cannot give up yet.


    Seren pushes herself from her old mattress. Her body feels like it weighs a ton and it is not because of gravity. The whole world has become heavy, dull and so, so cold. In a way it is a good thing that her room feels so depressing or else she would not have been able to leave it.


    The training room smells like plastic, detergent and old sweat. On the back, mats are placed for the benefit of the martial arts class, leading to an MMA ring. On her side, fencing lanes run parallel.


    Seren stretches and moves, trying to relax the bruised muscles in her left shoulder. Exercise helps. Probably. It¡¯s not exactly what the doctor ordered but staying in her room would have been a really bad idea. Fencing is liberating, requiring focus and running on muscle memory. Going through the motions itself brings back a sense of calm.


    The maitre d¡¯arme, a heavy set veteran called Salvador walks to her, his voice clear though his own mask. He is the only one wearing black.


    "Yuki I need you to pair with Paige on this one. Seren, fence with Liam."


    The very small amount of serenity and normalcy Seren had gathered in the past hour pops like a bubble.


    Liam? Really? Really?


    Even Yuki stops to stare at Seren, horror obvious in her posture.


    ¡°It will be fine.¡±


    Yuki nods and walks away, just as she had when Seren had told her she was fine. They both know it¡¯s a lie but Yuki will pretend to agree then still look after her.


    But seriously, Liam.


    Seren walks to her assigned lane and makes sure her body cord and electric vest work properly. If her electrified foil hits her opponent¡¯s vest first, the box will detect it and award the point to her. This is particularly important when two fencers hit each other almost simultaneously as will happen very soon.


    ¡°Hey¡± says Liam.


    Seren ignores him, feeling anger and tension build.


    ¡°I said hey¡±


    ¡°En garde¡±


    Seren takes position and breathes deeply, centering herself.


    ¡°Pret¡±


    It would have been easier with anyone but Liam.


    ¡°Allez¡±


    Liam lunges as Seren knew he would, she parries a first thrust then another, on the third she deflects the tip of his blade and counter attacks, scoring a hit on his shoulder.Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.


    The beep of the counting machine announces her victory, which doesn¡¯t prevent Liam from ramming the foil in her breast. Thank God for protections.


    ¡°tsk, lucky hit¡±


    Seren remais silent. On their second bout, Seren attacks herself, alternating thrusts and parries before landing a hit on his chest. Again, Liam shoves the foil in her breast even as the beep announces her victory.


    ¡°Ooops did I hit a boob?¡±


    Seren breathes in and out. She wants to do something, it¡¯s just that Liam has not broken any real rule yet and even if he did, she is not sure their referee-slash-teacher would do anything.


    Liam is actually half decent, he is also their only serious male contender in the upcoming tournaments. The fact that he is a remorseless asshole does not seem to factor in.


    The third bout is almost static, neither opponent lunging, until Liam circle parries one of Seren¡¯s feint. Using the wasted movement she hits his shoulder and retreats before he can further aggravate her.


    ¡°Can you ever land an actual blow?¡±


    Liam is known for thinking only crippling or killing blows should be counted. Seren wants to remind him that fencing is a sport and that if he wants to use a sword as a combat tool, he should invent a time machine. He would not listen of course. He cannot stand that anyone would be better than his own magnificent pampered self. The fact that Seren is a woman probably doesn¡¯t help either.


    ¡°Three zero¡± she replies.


    Liam bull rushes her and manages to lock guards with her, pushing both of their blades upward then rams his shoulder into her. As she staggers backward he hits her in the chest, at the exact same spot. The noise announces her technical defeat. The maitre d¡¯arms remains silent. Surely he has noticed? The entire room is heavy with tension.


    ¡°Three one.¡±


    Seren can almost see the ugly smirk on his handsome face behind the mask. With brown eyes, brown hairs and a square jaw, he looks like the young and successful professional in every stock photo. Or every man in the Bachelor. Seren is tempted to use the paths to fight him but¡­ That would be cheating.


    Liam rushes her again. Why change a winning strategy right? This time she flicks her blade, using its flexibility to hit him on the same shoulder, scoring yet another hit. He stops when his face mask is only a few inches away from hers.


    "Liam, enough."


    The tension in the room decreases when the maitre d¡¯arme stays next to them monitoring the duel. Despite her exhaustion, Seren manages to win by a fair margin, less than the previous time, but she had done worse.


    As expected, Liam does not salute her.


    As they finish and Seven finally takes her mask off, Salvador comes to her and tell her in a low voice.


    ¡°I wish you guys played nice, you are the best we have. I need you to set an example.¡±


    Seren is speechless. She just stares silently.


    Later in the changing room, Yuki whispers:


    ¡°Wow if looks could kill¡­¡±


    ¡°I was just staring at him.¡±


    "Then you have a no poker face whatsoever."


    For the first time in five days, Seren gives a genuine smile. Yuki is genuinely nice, too nice for duels, in fact. She is much better that she lets on, but hates competition.


    ¡°I¡¯m worried about you and Liam. You were not here on Monday but he lost it pretty bad in the semi finals. He¡¯s been an absolute asshole since then. If you wait five minutes I will walk you back to your dorm¡±


    ¡°Nah it¡¯s fine I need to get some food on the way anyway.¡±


    The gym courtyard is lit by a lone lamp post, casting a sickly yellow radiance. The darker paths tell her before it happens. She turns around as Liam grasps for her shoulder.


    "What do you want."


    Seren is surprised that there is no fear in her voice, she is probably just still numb. After the hours of the past week end, how could a spoilt man child with a petty mentality scare her? Then again, he can harm her too, just not as easily.


    ¡°Don¡¯t you think today¡¯s fencing is geared toward cowards and weaklings?¡±


    ¡°Isn¡¯t that good news for you?¡±


    Liam¡¯s eyes flash in terrible anger and for a moment, Seren believes that he will strike her here and there. Liam squares his jaw and manages to control himself, forcing back the parody of a smile. Seren realizes she has already taken a fencing guard position. Right foot forward.


    As Liam prepares to open his fucking shit trap, the numbness that had smothered Seren for the past few days suddenly lifts, blown away by the fire of her rage.


    Fuck him. And fuck the maitre d¡¯arms for being a dickless piece of shit. And fuck her dad for being a gutless coward and a man whore. And fuck the monsters, and fuck that Turner guy for saving her worthless hide, who the fuck does he think he is? And fuck Milo. For leaving her on this rotting piece of garbage of a planet. Fuck everyone.


    When Seren speaks she is so close to Liam¡¯s face that she could lick it.


    ¡°You think you¡¯re a true warrior huh? You think you¡¯re the shit? You think you could beat me in a street fight? Put your money where your mouth is, I¡¯ll fucking open you.¡±


    Liam almost recoils but his pride an arrogance make him stand.


    ¡°You¡¯re on, bitch.¡±


    Seren looks around and finds what she expected. Someone once left a barrel full of bokken near the entrance. The long wooden swords shaped like katana are used by the kenjutsu class. Seren rushes in, grabs two and walks out. She doesn¡¯t know what expression is on her face but given the terrified reaction of Paige, it¡¯s not pretty.


    And it¡¯s about to get worse.


    She throws one of the blades to Liam who catches it deftly. He looks surprised and vaguely worried. Reality not up to your taste pretty boy?


    Taking her best demeaning voice she asks


    ¡°Are we ready yet?¡±


    Liam gulps, realization catching up to him.


    ¡°Bring it.¡±


    Liam should have shut his fucking face. Or he should have run. Now it¡¯s too late.


    Seren lunges as she refocuses all the paths on the duel. She feints right and immediately lowers her sword. Liam¡¯s blade uselessly moves past to deflect a blow that would never come, her blade is already back up, pushing his blade further down before she puts all her strength in a reverse sweep. The very tip of the wooden stick catches Liam on the chin with a very satisfactory whack. Before he can recover she falls back then lunges and hit him in the sternum.


    Liam recoils away in pain clutching his chest and brandishing the bokken ineffectually. As if that could stop her.


    There is no pause in a real duel.


    Seren presses the attack, dancing around him. She strikes his shoulder and his elbow in a quick succession before feinting high and lunging low, catching his tibia. Liam screams in pain but fights back, his face desperate.


    Seren is the eye in the storm of her fury. For the second time in her life, she matches the paths and her skills. This time it comes more easily.


    Seren lets Liam attempt to strike back, she parries all his pitiful thrusts without effort. She could have disarmed him at any time but she is not here to win, she is here to punish. As Liam¡¯s efforts falter, she counter attacks twice, striking him in the chest and in the liver. Streams of tears roll down his cheeks.


    Seren is the speed to his slow, the purpose to his hesitation and the ruthlessness to his fear. All the paths are white showing her what she could do, what she should do to satisfy her urge. She is powerful, in control. It is all so¡­ Easy. She is not fighting, she is making a point.


    Gathering his last remaining strength Liam bull rushes her as he had done in the gym, but this time there are no rules and Seren is more than ready. Throwing her weapon in a lazy arc, she lets his blade pass by her and shoves the pommel in Liam¡¯s face, using his momentum against him.


    With a sickly crunch, the handle hits Liam in the nose. He screams and finally collapses on his back.


    A torrent of blood pours from his left nostril.


    Seren grabs the handle with two hands. Time to bash his face in. Time to kill.


    Two solids arm grab her from behind and she is propelled away. She rolls and is back on her feet in a heartbeat.


    There is a strange man opening his mouth. He is not part of the fight. He is outside the paths.


    The bubble of her focus pops, as does her anger. Reality beyond the duel rushes back to her senses. The man is Salvador and he is screaming at the top of his lungs


    ¡°WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU!?¡±


    His face displays a little bit of anger, and a lot of something Seren had never seen there before: fear. As if in slow motion her eyes take on the surroundings. Liam is on the ground, his nose is quite obviously broken, his face is already bruising. He is screaming in agony. Paige is crying. Yuki is in shock. A few other people have gathered, looking like they are witnessing a train wreck. In a way, they are. Worse, she can see a new cellphones recording the scene.


    Seren¡¯s stomach churn as she takes on the scene and realizes the likely consequences of her actions. Assault charges. Expulsion.


    How?


    She stands up. She is not going to cry in front of everybody. She walks back toward the gym.


    ¡°Where do you think you are going?¡±


    ¡°Inside.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t belong inside.¡±


    The maitre d¡¯arme¡¯s face is twisted with anger. Does he feel betrayed? Probably. Does Seren care?


    Absolutely not.


    ¡°Are you going to stop me?¡±


    Her voice drips with disdain. Pain registers on Salvador¡¯s face as he realizes that he has lost all respect and authority. If only he knew how much of it is aimed at herself.


    His eyes slide to her weapon, still in her hand and back to her face. In the end, he does nothing.


    Coward.


    Seren enters the girl¡¯s changing room. The place feels completely alien now, and it¡¯s likely the last time she will see it. It doesn¡¯t matter. She cannot control it anymore.


    Sobs wrack her and tears fall on her coat. She did not think she had any tears left but here we go. Losing the scholarship is the last of her worries now, she is lucky if she doesn¡¯t lose everything.


    A minute later, the door opens and closes and Yuki¡¯s arms hug her. She hugs her back.

 2.6 You will fall a thousand times.

    The interrogation room is just as cold and impersonal as she expected. Out of curiosity, she switches her focus to escaping. There are a few clear paths. Amazing. Not that she intends to use them, only one life-shattering event with violence per day thank you very much.


    The officers who led her here had been surprisingly nice. She suspects that the rest of the class spoke in her favor, they know about the abduction and nobody who ever sparred against Liam could ever doubt how much of an absolute asshole he is. One of the cops had even smiled and laughed while being told what happened, guess he was impressed, or maybe seeing a cocky fucker get his ass handed to him by a girl a full foot smaller than him is his personal fetish. Who knows?


    Still, it has been more than an hour. This is getting weird.


    The door opens and Seren jumps at the noise. The man who enters is a second surprise, if she had met him in the street she would have guessed marketing executive or cult leader. Designer suit, perfect brown curly hair, perfectly trimmed short beard, unmarred mahogany skin, sculpted body shape, and whitened teeth stuck in fake smile. The guy is a walking advertisement for a spa or something.


    Seren forces her lifted eyebrow to descend back to its normal position, no need to give him hints about her reaction.


    The impression is that she instantly dislikes him. It¡¯s not the suit. She had loved a suit on Milo. He had been able to walk in them, a feat that actually requires some effort. No. It¡¯s the eyes.


    Seren has already seen eyes and smiles like those at her father¡¯s place when she was a kid. It¡¯s a pairing, like red wine and beef. The mouth smiles and spews kindness and compliments and it¡¯s all bullshit. Seren used to put her hand in front of her to hide the whole bottom part of the face and just leave the eyes but she stopped really fast because it was too spooky. The eyes are cold, and calculating. They see you but they don¡¯t see a person, they see a parameter, a weakness or a waste of time. She does not need to obscure the bottom part of this guy¡¯s face to know he is bad news.


    ¡°Hello Seren, can I sit? ¡°


    Without waiting for a reply, he sits down. Of course. Seren forces her anger down, prevents herself from switching the paths to maiming him. Switching them too often will give her a terrible migraine and she needs all her attention now.


    A second man enters the room. Silently, he takes the seat next to Mr toothpaste advertisement and studies her.


    If the first man was silk this one is rock. Probably around seven feet, the suit he is wearing strains to contain his bulging muscles. His face looks like he failed the interview for evil genius henchman simply for being overqualified: Nordic and hard. A scar runs down from his cheek all the way down from his chin. He could probably breach a door with his jaw. He even has the obligatory buzzcut.


    Seren¡¯s gaze jumped from one to another in amused surprise. Those guys are larger than life, she feels that she has just been propelled on a movie set.


    Silence reigns in the room while Seren and the duo study each other. Mr plastic surgery flier relents first.


    ¡°My name is agent Chauham, this is agent Eriksen. We work with the NSA.¡±


    Seren perks up at that. The NSA? With? Not for? What the fuck is going on.


    ¡°I would like to first extend my heartfelt condolences to you. As if the kidnapping wasn¡¯t bad enough, you lose a loved one. I know how this feels, I lost my wife. It seems like it can¡¯t be real and the we can¡¯t live without them, and yet we must go on, but every little thing around us reminds us of them. You even went to that class despite that, you must be very brave.¡±


    Agent Chauham¡¯s posture and expression show concern and fatherly care, the image reinforced by a touch of grey at his temples. His voice is smooth and cultured and he looks like the kind of person you could confide into, who would understand you and comfort you. Mature. Reliable. Tactful. Even his story about losing a lost one finds echo in Seren¡¯s heart. It¡¯s true that she sees Milo in everything she does, in everywhere she goes. She misses his voice, his snide comments and witty jokes, and the look he had when staring at her and only at her, like she was a long awaited birthday present he was unwrapping every day. If only she had been faster. If only she had said no to his invitation, and trained like she should have¡­


    Seren blinks back a tear and steals a glance at Eriksen. For some reason he looks uncomfortable and frowns slightly. It almost looks comical on a man that large. Chauham knows he has pierced her defenses and plows on through with his pitch, Seren is indeed sad, and Chauham¡¯s word have touched her but that doesn¡¯t mean that she believes for a second that he genuinely cares.


    ¡°I understand your pain Seren, and that is why I believe we can do something about that accident at the gym. Truly regrettable, but we talked to your friends and they all agree that, well, he had it coming! ¡°


    He smiles at that and Seren feels her own traitorous lips twisting in answer. Damn, but this guy is good. She is even sure he noticed her slip up as he goes on.


    ¡°It¡¯s just that we need your help with something. But first let me ask you how you did it. You know? Beat that Liam so hard. I know that he is pretty good. He even placed fourth at the state competition last Monday and you guys¡¯ trainer thought that he was not fencing at his best. But you just didn¡¯t give him a chance.¡±Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.


    Seren decides to answer, speaking for the first time since entering this room.


    ¡°I¡¯m actually good at fencing.¡±


    ¡°Oh yes, we know about that. We know you always beat him and we watched a recording of your performance at this year¡¯s national tournament. Truly impressive! We watched it and then, we watched this.¡±


    Chauham hands her a tablet. Just as she takes it, there is a knock on the door. Eriksen stands up to answer.


    On the tablet there is a video. The light is not good and the angle sucks but there is no mistaking the scene. The screen is frozen on a very clear image of her back, the bokken in her hand and Liam¡¯s worried face. The video was clearly taken by someone with a very high end smartphone. The image is crystal clear. She can even see the knitted tear in her winter coat.


    Eriksen comes back to whisper something in Chauham¡¯s ear. She ignores it and press the play button.


    She watches the duel start and notices with surprise that the video only lasts thirty seconds. It sure felt much longer.


    At first she sees nothing wrong. She catches Liam in the chin with perfect form. Those two suited fuckers certainly did their homework on her but they don¡¯t know that her weapon of choice is not the foil. It¡¯s the sword. Forgetting that herself had cost her the first place at the cup they had watched.


    After watching five more seconds she realizes what¡¯s wrong.


    Seren is good. She knows she is good. She has the skill, the will, and she trained for it, hard. She knows what a good fencer looks like and this isn¡¯t it. No human being can fence like that.


    Seren looks at the woman on the screen and finds it hard to believe it is actually her. Her face is not her usual focused persona, instead it looks feral and really, really cold. Cruel. That¡¯s still believable. What isn¡¯t is her movements.


    Fencing takes a lot of mind games, anticipation and reading your opponent¡¯s body, particularly because the average athlete can move faster than the eye can see. The Seren on the screen does not stop or do any of the ¡°wasted¡± movements used to provoke a response. The fight looks like it has been set by a choreographer and repeated a hundred times. She parries every attack with total ease. Not once does she lose the initiative. The tablet¡¯s sound system makes the ¡®Holy shit!¡± And ¡°get Salvador¡± clear enough, illustrating everyone¡¯s surprise.


    Seren watches the rest of the video numbed with shock. She did not even blink when Liam¡¯s blade passed a breath away from her eyes, did not even hesitate before bashing his face with the wooden handle. Seren sees the shock on her face after seeing her opponent on the ground, then the horror, and finally the defiance in her voice


    ¡°Are you going to stop me?¡±


    The boyish voice of the phone¡¯s owner concludes the show with an amazed ¡° Oh shiiiiiit¡±


    Seren finally lifts her eyes of the tablet.


    They know.


    They know that this was not natural. Not¡­. Normal. They know that she is not normal.


    There will be no point lying to them. She can see it in the confidence of Chauham¡¯s gaze and Eriksen¡¯s slightly worried expression, as if she were one of the only people on the planet who he wasn¡¯t sure he could take on.


    Seren licks her lips. They know, but they want her to admit it. As if sensing her reluctance Chauham speaks. His voice is low, his posture forward.


    ¡°We found three types of wounds on the creature¡¯s remains. Gunshots, explosives and a third set. Like stab wounds inflicted with something coated in acid.


    It was you wasn¡¯t it?¡±


    Seren still doesn¡¯t speak. Mistaking her surprise for hesitation, Chauham presses on.


    ¡°Help us and we will help you. We will have the charges dropped, we will make sure Cornell lets you stay, hell we could even get you a scholarship, but you have to let us help you.¡±


    Why not. She hasn¡¯t been abducted in a secret facility yet so they can¡¯t be that bad right? If she goes with them they will use her and her skills, and probably control her but at least she¡¯ll get some support, and more importantly some answers.


    Just as Seren is about to break the door slams open. For the second time in just a few minutes, she jumps in surprise. The man who enters is not someone she knows but he smiles when he sees her. He is also wearing a dark suit as well as a pleasant smile on his jolly plump face. Were it not for the setting and his bag, he would have looked like someone¡¯s nice uncle. Behind him, an officer in uniform looks at Chauham apologetically.


    ¡° Hello Miss Nechayeva. I¡¯m your lawyer. Your father hired me.¡±


    Her father?


    Disbelief must have shown on her face


    ¡°We are in the middle of a talk.


    "My client is exhausted, she has suffered a traumatic event recently and needs to rest. I am sure we can all continue this discussion tomorrow? Unless you charge her of course?"


    "Your client just beat a man almost to death, it would be in her best interest to¡­"


    "Mr Austin will make a full recovery, and my client defended herself after the man who had been waiting for her after practice physically accosted her. We will also be looking into why he was never disciplined despite numerous complaints against him. I mean, it¡¯s a clear case of harassment. Perhaps it has something to do with his family¡¯s generosity towards the University? In any case, unless you perform an arrest right now we are leaving.¡±


    The lawyer turns to her.


    ¡°Shall we?¡±


    Seren mechanically stands up, realizes her mouth is hanging open and manages to close it.


    Her father?


    Later that night


    ¡°You got spicy chicken wings as well? Oh Yuki¡­¡±


    ¡°If you say thank you one more time I¡¯m eating them.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s blackmail, pure and simple.¡±


    Yuki mockingly glares and lifts a wing with delicate fingers.


    ¡°Talking about felony, how did it go?¡±


    Seren waves the slice of pizza around and sticks her socked feet against Yuki¡¯s portable heater.


    ¡°That Allen dude says he¡¯s pretty sure he can get me to stay, and definitely sure he can settle this out of court with Liam¡¯s parents. I¡¯ll get disciplined though, and probably expelled from the team.¡±


    ¡°Old Salvador could be pressured into letting you stay, you know, on account of you being our best chance at winning the national?¡±


    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t count on it, Cornell doesn¡¯t depend on their athletic team for visibility. I¡¯ll get no special treatment.¡±


    "One can only hope."


    "I¡¯ll drink to that."


    Seren gulps the coke. It¡¯s too sweet against her tongue and the bubbles make her want to sneeze but she doesn¡¯t care. It tastes like hope.


    "Did your dad call you?"


    "No."


    Yuki adverts her eyes. Even when slumming her posture is impeccable., looking like she is one yukata short of conducting a tea ceremony. Seren can hardly blame her for ruining the mood. It is Yuki who managed to find her father¡¯s contact using only information available on her profile, Yuki who related all the events to their freshly hired lawyer and Yuki who had knocked on her door with a meat pizza, coke and her favorite wings.


    "It¡¯s ok. I mean. You were here for me."


    "Stop blushing! And stop thanking me!"


    Yuki pats Seren shoulder and she appreciates the gesture for its true value. Yuki almost never willingly touches anyone.


    ¡°Oh! You had a delivery today. I picked it up on the way.¡±


    ¡°Wow Yuki can I hire you as my personal assistant?¡±


    ¡°Bitch please you can¡¯t even afford your own personal training gear. ¡°


    ¡°Then when I¡¯m triple Olympic gold medal and a famous actress.¡±


    ¡°My poor Seren you should get your head checked for a concussion, because you¡¯re raving mad. ¡°


    ¡°Hey!¡±


    Seren stops chuckling long enough to look at the small box. It doesn¡¯t feel heavy but it does contain something. Opening it she finds a burner phone, a charger and a message in an envelope.


    ¡°Wow this is some James Bond bullshit. What¡¯s going on?¡±


    Seren can¡¯t help but smile. Yuki swears like she is speaking a foreign language, as if she had to force herself to be suitably rude. Seren opens the envelope to find a letter written in a clean hand.


    ¡°It¡¯s from that guy who saved us last Friday, Nathan something. He wants to talk.¡±


    Yuki doesn¡¯t say anything. Seren has never told her the details of the abduction, only that it was bad and that Milo was dead, and Yuki had not asked. She is here now and Seren realizes two things. She needs to share what happened and she needs to tell someone what she can do. Her trust in Yuki is absolute.


    ¡°Tell me¡­ Do you believe in monsters? I mean, that they exist?¡±


    Yuki¡¯s eyes are clouded and sorrowful.


    ¡°After seeing you fight, I do.¡±

 Interlude - Phone call 3

    "Hello?"


    "Hey! Wait just give me a minute. Malik! Can you take over please? Thanks."


    "¡­"


    "Ok sorry I¡¯m at work. Hum. Is this Seren or Patience?"


    "You sent a phone to Patience as well?"


    "Oh I¡¯m not the one who sent it but yeah Patience should have one as well."


    "Then who sent it."


    "The police officer, you know , the one who shot the Eater in the back? That¡¯s him, he¡¯s with us. I mean, us, if you join."


    "Join what exactly?"


    "Hum I dont know if you heard but basically, there are two more of them."Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.


    "I know I was there."


    "Oh yeah of course, sorry. Hum. Anyway. I think they¡¯ll come back. Them or something else. I want to be ready and huh, I think you can help."


    "Why don¡¯t you go to the police?"


    "Two things. First, admitting this in public could get me in a psychiatric ward and I¡¯m not willing to give others that much power over me. Second, if it were just the police I would at least consider it but¡­ Apparently it¡¯s not in their hands. Some dudes pulled rank on them and, well, if I judge them according to their actions they are more interested in secrecy than in actually solving the problem."


    "That doesn¡¯t answer my question. What do you have that the police cannot do."


    "You know what I have, and you have it as well. I am not sure Patience does but I want her protected."


    "I don''t know what you¡¯re talking about."


    "You know exactly what I''m talking about, but I¡¯m not pressuring you or anything, you don¡¯t want to join that¡¯s fine. Just, be careful. The eaters are not the only spooky things out there and if what Gw¡­ What I heard is true it will only get worse. Be careful what you tell the authorities. Oh and please don¡¯t tell them I tried to contact you, please? Can you at least do that?"


    "Yeah ok¡­ Ok. Can I call you back?"


    "No problem. Same number. Hey Malik!"


    Click

 2.7 Go out there and make new friends.

    Nathan is sitting on the clearing ground with his ass deep in grass in an awkward lotus and concentrating as if his life depended on it, which in a way it does. The vibrant feeling starts at the back of his head and spreads out in his body, taking strange paths. The woodsmoke and obsidian aura he recognizes as his own mingles with the wet earth and clean soil feel in a seamless mix. With agonizing slowness the tingling finally moves outward toward its target.


    ¡°Will it.¡±


    Gwain¡¯s voice sounds different in this state, fuller and somehow, more intimate. Nathan follows her instruction, pushing the feeling of life and energy outward and along his arm inch by inch, to a point outside of his body. The feeling is eerie.


    ¡°Release it.¡±


    It takes all of Nathan¡¯s willpower and stamina to maintain the flow for even a few seconds but he manages to hold, sweat dripping down is back. The strange energy evaporates as he lowers his hand and he sits back, exhausted and panting.


    On the ground, just in front of his knees stands a fully bloomed flower. A tulip. This is neither the place nor the season and yet its carmine petals unfold to catch the pale light.


    ¡°I did it!¡±


    ¡°Congratulations, Nathan Mordred Turner. On your third day. And you did not blank.¡±


    Nathan raises his hand to his left temple, head already well on its way to a tequila-night-hangover class migraine.


    ¡°Hum about that?¡±


    Gwahin stops sharpening her spear and leans to the side, grabbing a wooden flask and emptying a light green liquid in a very small bowl. Nathan manages to stand up and grab the bowl gratefully before gulping it down like a vodka shot. The bitter concoction leaves a root like aftertaste in his mouth. She puts the flask down and it disappears in the tall grass, then starts polishing what looks like a bow frame.


    ¡°I guess it¡¯s an acquired taste¡±


    ¡°You already said that twice before.¡±


    ¡°If I keep repeating it maybe it will become true.¡±


    Weaving had proven exhausting both on the body and mind. The first time he had tried he had ¡°blanked¡±. Blanking is a strange feeling, there is no memory of it and when consciousness flows back it¡¯s as if no time had passed. It just leaves an uncomfortable impression and makes one helpless. Nathan had had proof when he had gone home and realized that Gwahin¡¯s good mood had stemmed from the floral pattern she had drawn on his forehead while he had been out.


    Gwahin inspects the flower then nods, satisfied.


    ¡°We will continue this tomorrow, for now, you should rest. I heard mortals do not always come back from being blanked.¡±


    ¡°Ugh, you¡¯re telling me now?! ¡°


    ¡°Relax I would not put you in danger. Well! Not in mortal danger anyway. ¡°


    As the pain starts to fade, Nathan gets a flash of half-devoured arm. He shivers and pushes the image away knowing well that it would return. Nathan had had difficulty understanding what flashbacks meant to someone who had a traumatic experience. He thinks he understands a bit more now. It seems to him like there is little way to fight it. How exactly do you not think about something? Exactly.


    ¡°Oh before I forget my mom will come over at some point. She will probably yell at me, but, she¡¯s not a threat alright? No need to do anything.¡±


    ¡°Oh I won¡¯t, I only intervene if you are in serious danger.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, that got me to think. I need to be more careful, I mean, when Henkel pulled a gun on me I didn¡¯t think too much but I realize that you can avenge me but not exactly protect me.¡±


    ¡°What are you talking about dear host, of course, if you had been in mortal danger I would have killed him.¡±


    ¡°So you can tell he wasn¡¯t going to shoot?¡±


    Gwahin laughs as if Nathan had told a joke, looks at him and laughs again at his confusion.


    ¡°Hahaha, of course, silly me, how can you know? He would not have hit you.¡±


    ¡°At this range?¡±


    ¡°You weaved the most peculiar thing, a sort of displacement. I have never seen, or even heard of anything like it. He would have shot a few inches to your right and probably damaged your teapot.¡±


    ¡°Wait so I weaved? I actually weaved?¡±


    ¡°Of course! It is not unsurprising, you were in mortal danger after all.¡±


    ¡°How come I weaved without realizing it but now I feel like I have run a half marathon just by making a tulip bloom?¡±


    ¡°Ah yes. You remember what I said about intent, yes? The flow reacts to stronger intent. It can be achieved by discipline just as well as strong emotions, but emotions are unreliable. So! That is why you must train. ¡°


    ¡°Ok. I suppose. ¡°


    Nathan remembers his exhaustion during and after Henkel¡¯s visit. That might explain it.


    ¡°Will more discipline really allow me to do anything more than landscaping?¡±


    ¡°Of course, but weaving is like hunting. How can you be strong when you have never used your muscles before? Only time and effort will make your muscles strong, yes? The more you weave and the more you will be able to weave. Also! You need balance and control on top of power. So! We work on this first. And then! I will have you weave while I try to stab you.¡±


    ¡°That doesn¡¯t sound like a good incentive.¡±


    ¡°You will learn how to weave while I try to stab you, or you will learn while a Varog eats you alive. Is that good enough incentive Nathan Mordred Turner?¡±


    ¡°Hrm yeah. Can you stop using my full name it reminds me of my mom when she¡¯s pissed.¡±


    ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°Sigh. Ok. Hum. About the Varogs. Have you thought about anything? There has to be a pattern for those attacks.¡±


    ¡°Yes, of course, I have thought about it. And I know the patterns. Also! I have decided not to help you.¡±


    ¡°What!? I thought you were, I don¡¯t know, at least curious?¡±


    ¡°Your story and this situation have indeed attracted my attention, however, I do not wish for you to depend on me too much. I will provide assistance by steering my teachings and making sure you do possess the knowledge needed to complete your tasks, but I will not do this for you.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s the longest ¡°sort your own fucking mess¡± I ever heard.¡±


    ¡°I do abhor vulgarity. Next! Time for you to ¡°sort the mess¡±, as you said.¡±


    ¡°Ok. Ok. Well. The essence of it is that I need to locate and kill the two remaining Varogs, assuming there is only two of course.¡±


    ¡°Better.¡±


    ¡°Could you possibly help me find them?¡±Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.


    Gwahin half smile is replaced by an expression that mixes both disappointment and disgust. Gwahin¡¯s girly face and sharp teeth only make the impression more condemning somehow.


    ¡°Let me rephrase, is there any way to find a Varog using a tool similar to the one you gave me to find Sarah.¡±


    ¡°It would work if you had something belonging to that specific Varog you are looking for, if not I¡¯m afraid a very short distance is all you can manage, and even that will cause you a great deal of difficulty. You are simply not ready.¡±


    Nathan tries to work a different angle. Tracking death? No way, too big. Violence against humans? Stupid.


    ¡°Is there any way to track weavings made by Varogs? You said they have a way to influence others?¡±


    ¡°Better mortal, you are starting to think. I was getting desperate and wondering if what sat atop your shoulders was only for balance and decoration. You cannot know, but tracking a Varog aura would be like finding a needle in a haystack warehouse.¡±


    Nathan feels discouraged but he cannot give up. His time with Gwahin is limited due to his work and her propensity to avoid any serious topic when she is at his place, being fully busy devastating his pantry or watching TV.


    ¡°How about attracting them? They are predators, I should be able to lure them.¡±


    This time Gwahin smiled in earnest.


    ¡°Yes you could, provided you know what they seek. And you should.¡±


    ¡°I should?¡±


    ¡°Yes, all that you need to know has already been provided to you. ¡°


    ¡°I know they mostly hunt pairs, but not always. Hum. It¡¯s highly possible the police officer was collateral damage.¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°I still don¡¯t see a pattern, Why pairs? Maybe I should just ask¡­¡±


    ¡°ENOUGH!¡±


    The sudden scream breaks the clearing¡¯s calm aura. The peaceful feeling of vitality turns to something more feral Wood creaks and groans around Nathan as he feels cold dread creep up his spine. Just as it came, the feeling goes. The fear stays. Gwahin¡¯s mask of fury reverts to a more sulky expression, turning the bare-fanged horror into an average looking girl once more. The only sign of her outburst is the anger in the molten gold of her eyes.


    ¡°Do not waste my time mortal, you would regret it. You need to stop asking others and start asking yourself. ¡°


    ¡°You gave me all the hints I needed to resolve this didn¡¯t you?¡±


    The last of Gwahin¡¯s anger disappears when she sees he is facing the problem head-on. The term ¡°moody bitch¡± may or may not have come to Nathan¡¯s mind.


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    She thinks for a moment and adds with an expression that speaks of all the arrogance of a noblewoman giving a coin to a retarded peasant so that he could feed his family.


    ¡°Perhaps I can give you one last hint. Notice what happens to each member of the pair.¡±


    ¡°For Patience they captured her and her friend escaped.¡±


    ¡°Lucky her.¡±


    ¡°They captured Seren and killed her boyfriend.¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°They captured Sarah. Alone.¡±


    ¡°That was not an attack on a pair though, was it?¡±


    ¡°Ok. The attack on the pair happened a day before. When she was with me.¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°Seren can weave, I¡¯m almost sure of it. They had her and Patience longer but never touched them, but they ate Sarah.¡±


    ¡°¡­¡±


    ¡°They grab a pair. One is a weaver, one is dinner. Patience is a weaver as well.¡±


    ¡°¡­¡±


    ¡°Sarah was eaten because of me. They must have felt me on her¡­¡±


    ¡°She spends a lot of time with you.¡±


    Nathan gulps. He is the cause of Sarah¡¯s missing arm.


    ¡°What do they do with those weavers if they don¡¯t eat them.¡±


    ¡°That is an excellent question, dear host. When they next come for you, you should ask them.¡±


    Nathan walks around the clearing, stealing glances at Gwahin who is now applying some kind of oil on a nasty looking recurve bow, minus the string. It looks bigger than her.


    ¡°Mmmm I want to make sure the girls are weavers, but we can¡¯t go see them, besides you need to stay here. Perhaps I could invite them to have a look at you.¡±


    ¡°Dear host, if you can successfully convince a woman to enjoy a stroll in an empty forest with a man she does not know to see a mythical creature less than a week after she was violently abducted by cannibalistic monsters, you do not want her as an ally, she is too stupid to live!¡±


    ¡°Alright, I got your point. Is there a weaving I can do to see if they are sensitive to it.¡±


    ¡°Dear host, if you want to see if they are sensitive to magic, it stands to reason that any piece of magic would suffice, so long as they notice it.¡±


    "So I could just grow a flower in front of them."


    "Will you test their ability to feel or their ability to see? And do you expect them to be as sensitive as you? Besides, you cannot."


    "What? But I just did!"


    "You can take two hours to grow a flower in the heart of the forest, at the core of my power and in a place favored by the flow, under my help and supervision. Doing it in the cold light of winter, stranded on a sea of concrete with people watching you is still far beyond your capabilities.¡±


    Gwahinputs the bow frame down on the grass. It disappears from view.


    ¡°Nathan, I do not wish to curb your enthusiasm. You have been a great hostand a good man, and I am glad it was you who freed me, but I must be the bearer of harsh truths. You are not unlike a man who has never walked before."


    "Like in the Matrix?"


    "Do not interrupt. You only started moving a week ago. Your ability to perceive things is extraordinary, and this weaving you made was impressive, for a neophyte, but weaving by design is something else altogether. It will force your¡­ Izham. That part of you that touches the flow, to great effort. Right now it is incredibly weak, and it will take time to fully develop. It is not something that can be hurried. Do not count on weaving offensively this year, or the next."


    "I, I see. So me opening this flower and weaving something on the Varogs is like driving on an empty parking lot versus in Manhattan during rush hour."


    "I suppose I should be satisfied with your feeble mind grasping this concept, I will not give this comparison the comment it deserves."


    "Wow Gwahin you managed to insult me even more than if you had actually used a proper insult. Color me impressed.¡±


    That gets Nathan a fanged smile. Actually, that gets him two fanged smiles. He watches with curiosity as the third weird creature he ever saw (except if you count his ex Emily, that woman was insane) float a few inches away from his face. The creature is humanoid, as long as his hand and painfully thin. It remains afloat on a set of large dragonfly wings and is made with what looks like bark and thorns. Nathan reflexively extends an index and the creepy faerie lands on it, light as a feather. Now that it stopped moving, Nathan can see in more detail that its feet and arms are thin and long like roots, and that it has a face that would look almost human. It is currently looking around with the confused face of a drunk man waking up naked in a chicken coop. While hugging a traffic cone. Right before the hangover hits.


    ¡°Ah yes. A Sylvan. I was¡­. Expecting it.¡±


    Nathan lowers his hand and the Sylvan clings to it with desperation. If it were not for the light touch on his skin, he believes that he would not even have noticed it.


    ¡°You don¡¯t sound thrilled. Wait it¡¯s not going to eat me right?"


    "You¡¯re too big. And they prefer sugar."


    "They?"


    "Yes, he is the first one. More will come eventually¡­ It is just that¡­"


    "Spill it."


    "I am loath to ask one more thing of you, but it would be in both our interests if you could take him with you.¡±


    Gwahin¡¯s face is unreadable.


    ¡°Come again?"


    "You see it is my fault. I come here, I disrupt the season so I can jump start my growth. I use the power of this place and amplify it. The magic wakes up, yes? It feels like spring has come. So! The first Sylvan is born, except, it is almost winter and he will die."


    "He will starve?"


    "Starve. Fade. Freeze. I do not know, but he will die."


    "What about you?"


    "Thank you for your concern. I can almost hibernate now. Unless you accept me in your house, then I can prepare and grow faster."


    "Well it¡¯s not like you¡¯re not already sleeping on my couch and eating in my fridge. Tell me more about Toothy here.¡±


    Big mistake. Nathan jumps as the flow flexes and stretches around him like a lazy cat. The trees in the clearing move and creak under an invisible wind as something builds up between them. Nathan could not have moved if he had wanted to, instead he opens his perception to the flow around him. It tastes like brambles and mischief and behind it, his own wood fire and obsidian. A link grows taut between them and snaps loudly. The flow abates as quickly as it had risen.


    ¡°TOOTHY?! TOOTHY!? REALLY?¡±


    Nathan¡¯s face freezes into his most professional and customer friendly face out of sheer conditioning. He is not sure that this valuable defense mechanism will work on a blood drinking Yol though. Gwahin keeps screaming.


    ¡°Do you even have any idea what you¡¯ve done?"


    "I¡¯m going to assume I named him?"


    "And you named him Toothy! Toothy! A Sylvan firstborn!"


    "Ok ok I¡¯m sorry but Toothy isn¡¯t that bad right? What did you expect? A Haiku?¡±


    Gwahin slaps her head with a hand, a very human gesture.


    ¡°Aaahhh. I always forget that you know nothing. You almost look like a proper adult and then things like this happen. Well. At least you have bound now.¡±


    Toothy is now trying to explore Nathan¡¯s sleeve.


    ¡°It¡¯s a bit late now but what does that entail?"


    "Well. You will need to warm him and feed him during this winter. Sweet stuff. Those honey covered nuts will work well. Hum. I think I finished the bag you will have to get some more. The Sylvan is now imprinted on you he will follow you everywhere. He is very useful , you will see."


    "Can he throw rocks the size of small cars shoot laser from his eyes and do the dishes afterward?"


    "Please do not test my patience any further. He will amplify your grasp on the flow while he is around. It is not much but¡­ Right now you are as vulnerable as a babe. No, worse even, because a babe could be spared out of pity."


    "Is there any drawback? Does he shorten my lifespan or something?"


    "Not as such.¡±


    Gwahin is suddenly very still, shedding her humanity in an instant. Her smooth voice comes from a faraway place.


    ¡°You do not understand. Intent goes both ways. Just as you weave the world it changes you. You can barely do anything and already, ripples from your actions affect things around you. The Sylvian gets a stupid name. The detective gets involved. Your colleague gets mutilated. You are thrown into a game with rules you do not understand. I will try to help but there is so much to do.¡±


    ¡°Sufficient unto the day is the Varog thereof. Chill. I¡¯m still alive and I can make it work. Speaking of which, I got an appointment, gotta go. See ya!¡±


    ¡°Please take this seriously.¡±


    ¡°You said I needed a weapon right? I''m going to get one now.¡±


    ¡°Is it a baseball bat? Wait I need to explain a few more things!¡±


    ¡°Sorry Gwahin, gotta split. Bye!¡±


    Nathan walks away with the strange creature nestled in his sleeve. Well, it will help his weaving and he has to feed it in return. He¡¯s basically a pet. It¡¯s probably nothing he cannot handle.

 2.8 Strange bedfellows

    Hallows firearms and ammunition is an unassuming compound on the outskirts of the city, barely twenty minutes away from Nathan¡¯s home. The only hints that the place is not just a warehouse are the sounds of discharges and the smell of spent gun propellant. Toothy is sleeping in his car, nestled in soft fabric with a sugar cube as pillow.


    Nathan turns to Henkel.


    ¡°Aaaaah the smell of cordite.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not cordite you smell,¡± The man answered, ¡°it¡¯s either IMR propellant or NATO¡¯s WC844. Cordite is obsolete. Has been for some time.¡±


    ¡°You must be super fun at parties, anyone ever told you that?¡±


    ¡°When I go to parties people tell me ¡°please officer don¡¯t tell my parents or I¡¯m dead.¡±¡±


    A joke? From Henkel? Only his relaxed face and a glint in his eyes show it.


    ¡°So why am I not getting one of those monstrosities that can punch a hole through a wall like you used last time?¡±


    ¡°Well this is all a question of stopping power. If even a .357 cannot put down one of those things in one shot you might as well take a gun that shoots fast and accurately, that way you have a chance to kill it before it gets to you. I reckon that with those things we¡¯d better aim for the head and failing that, pump enough metal into them that the bits that make them move stop working. So we need something that shoots fast and that you can aim. For you it¡¯s that M&P 9. For me, well I¡¯m not sure yet.¡±


    ¡°Can¡¯t we pick something that will push them back? Like a huge ass shotgun?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not like in the movies buddy. The people you shoot receive the same kinetic energy that you get. Newton¡¯s laws and all that. You get the recoil. They get a piece of expanding metal through the gut. They don¡¯t fly away into the wall, and they only fall if it¡¯s bad enough¡±.


    ¡°What about the bullets? I heard that hollow points are the best for killing people. Uh I mean, unarmored targets¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s right buddy but if you get caught with hollow point bullets we¡¯ll both get problems. You have safety rounds that will expand a bit and will not go through walls so we will limit the collateral damage. And don¡¯t worry, Smith and Wesson make good weapons and they have been at this for a while. You though, you¡¯ll have to start practicing.¡±


    Two hours later.


    ¡°Alright. Thanks for helping me get that¡­¡±


    Nathan checks the documents again


    ¡°License to carry firearms. You sure it can¡¯t be tracked back to you?¡±


    ¡°Nah I called in a favor. You¡¯re lucky. Else you would have waited ¡®till Christmas just for the background check to be over.¡±


    ¡°Yeah. Lucky. Thanks for helping me pick up the weapon as well. By the way, are you not worried they¡¯ll follow me here and see us together?¡±


    ¡°Nah buddy. Your car¡¯s bugged. So is your phone. They don¡¯t need to be here.¡±


    ¡°Oh well ok that¡¯s comforting.¡±


    Nathan tries to keep a straight face as he opens his door and Toothy flutters happily in his face. The good detective shows no reaction. Just as he expected, Henkel cannot see Toothy. He can feel the small Sylvan¡¯s tiny weave distorting the flow around it and the light looks blurred around the edge of his wings. At least he can go to work without having to worry too much. He realizes he was wrong, he should definitely have listened to what Gwahin would say.


    ¡°Seriously Turner I¡¯m taking a huge risk here. Those¡­ Things. Those eaters, they¡¯ll come back. You need to spend hours at the range. I don¡¯t even have time to train you on trigger discipline. Shit. ¡°


    Henkel paces, obviously worried and frustrated.


    ¡°You¡¯re an amateur. No trigger discipline. Can¡¯t really afford to be shot in the back but¡­¡±


    ¡° But you are desperate and you have seen firsthand what we¡¯re facing. Don¡¯t worry. I¡¯m taking this seriously.¡±


    ¡°¡­¡±


    ¡°Really I am.¡±Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.


    ¡°Yeah, yeah, it¡¯s just.¡±


    ¡°Out with it.¡±


    ¡°Are you a magician?¡±


    Nathan thinks carefully. Can he trust Henkel? It¡¯s not even a question or wether he should but rather, whether he has a choice. He was planning to tell Henkel how they would kill the Varogs and that would mean telling him he can feel them, and that they are looking for him. He might as well clear it.


    ¡°I¡¯m not right now, I mean, I¡¯m training. I told you the truth when I said it¡¯s news to me.¡±


    ¡°So what you can, I dunno, throw magic shit at them?¡±


    ¡°No I¡¯ll just be able to tell where they are but I¡¯m working on it.¡±


    ¡°Alright, alright, I can¡¯t deal with this shit right now. I¡¯m off. Keep working on your aim as well, can¡¯t rely on that arcane crap.¡±


    Henkel stomps away angrily, before almost stumbling on his shoelaces. Toothy barrel rolls himself in front of a car¡¯s side mirror, radiating amusement. So the Sylvian is a prankster huh? Nathan hopes the creature¡¯s tricks will work on Varogs.


    Something about Gwahin said brushes his mind. She was really curious about what motivated him, and now that he thinks about it, he doesn¡¯t know exactly why Henkel decided to go behind his hierarchy¡¯s back. He looks so much like a straight arrow.


    ¡°Hey Henkel¡±


    ¡°WHAT?!¡±


    ¡°Why do you do this?¡±


    Henkel blinks in confusion. Nathan waits in silence, knowing the detective would want to fill it. Henkel¡¯s nature is to stick to the rules. What would happen after they are done with the immediate threat? Perhaps, he should not be so desperate for allies. Perhaps it would be better to face the Varogs alone with a well made plan rather than being shot in the back by someone who believes you are, what, an aberration? An anomaly? The spawn of the devil?


    ¡°Seriously Henkel why are you doing this and taking risks instead of letting your colleagues or a federal agency handle the matter?¡±


    Henkel has this faraway look people have when they are silent because they are putting their thoughts in order.


    ¡°There are two things you don¡¯t know. First, my father died in Ethiopia because he trusted his hierarchy to do something they didn¡¯t do. Something they couldn¡¯t do. You trust the people above you but in the end they are just that, people. I won¡¯t hinder those suits they can do their things on their end, but I¡¯m not going to sit around on my ass - pardon my French - waiting for someone else to solve the problems if there is a chance I can do it.¡±


    ¡°I see. And the second reason?¡±


    ¡°Hmm. The suits have already stopped a pair of those eaters you were talking about.¡±


    ¡°This one throws Nathan off. They have? This changes everything.¡±


    ¡°Yeah. Seven people died including the hostage.¡±


    ¡°Oh.¡±


    Nathan is stunned. Before, he could understand death on an abstract level. Death is, of course, tragic, but he could not relate unless he knew someone who was involved. Before, it happened to strangers. Now however, his imagination supplies him with all the horror he needs to appreciate the situation. A trained rescue team of lethal operators, confident and disciplined and then, the otherworldly nightmare. An ambush. Incredible strength and men who would not die, who turned out not to be men at all. Worse, a dead weaver. He or she had been eaten to fuel the battle prowess of the captors. Nathan feels like an asshole to prioritize the death of a person over that of the others but from a survival perspective, people who weave without training will be key in fighting Varogs. How many others have already died or been transferred who knows where?


    Henkel continues, oblivious to Nathan¡¯s inner turmoil.


    ¡°And then you, a fucking amateur wearing, excuse me, a fucking middle age armor and a chick with a spear and a concussion manage to down two of the things with barely a scratch and I realized something. You were wearing chain mail when most people wear Kevlar and it worked! It fucking worked! I saw claw marks that had torn through metal. Kevlar isn¡¯t designed to stop that shit, chainmail is. Everybody was laughing but actually, you were right. I don¡¯t know why the suits haven¡¯t offered you a position with your own team and a fat bonus, but after making sure you were who you said you were I would have, because I only care about what works and how to stop those things. I care about this more than I care about my pride and even my career. Then those shit for brains left off and I knew I had to do something. Why are you looking at me like that?¡±


    Nathan closes his mouth, which is currently hanging. The simple question had opened the flood gates and Henkel¡¯s breathless rant had attracted the eyes of a few customers leaving the compound. It is time to leave.


    ¡°I just didn¡¯t expect you to be so¡­ Vehement.¡±


    ¡°Why do you have to talk like a fucking book.¡±


    ¡°Fuck you. Ok. Now that we have cleared this I need to talk to you about our plan.¡±


    ¡°Wait, here? Now?¡±


    ¡°Yeah. Why not? Are they listening to us?¡±


    ¡°No it¡¯s just¡­ Alright never mind. Talk.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s simple really. The eaters hunt pairs, they eat one and take the other¡­ I don¡¯t know where. And those they don¡¯t eat are weavers.¡±


    ¡°Weavers?¡±


    ¡°People like me.¡±


    ¡°Wait are you implying that Seren and Patience¡­¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°Wow. Buddy you sure? I talked to them they didn¡¯t look like they knew how to handle arcane bullshit.¡±


    ¡°I mean they are exactly like me: untrained. So the eaters are after untrained weavers and it¡¯s very likely they will come back for us.¡±


    ¡°I see.¡±


    ¡°And when they do we ambush them and we kill them.¡±


    ¡°Wow that¡¯s your plan? It¡¯s¡­ Well it¡¯s kind of shit.¡±


    ¡°Hear me out for a second. You guys, both you and those suits, you can do detective work and maybe you will find them. If you don¡¯t at least we know they will come for us. Now eaters are ambush predators.¡±


    ¡°How do you know that?¡±


    ¡°I was ambushed, your mentor was caught by surprise, and back at the factory both of the eaters tried to catch us when we were either trapped or unaware.¡±


    ¡°Ok what¡¯s your point?¡±


    ¡°The best way to get ambush predators is to lure them out. If they know we¡¯re coming they will trap us and they will kill whatever hostage they have. If we strike first they won¡¯t know how to react.¡±


    ¡°Why not. Why not¡­ Actually you know more than I do so I¡¯ll just believe you this time. What do we need?¡±


    ¡°Ok, first we need to know when they¡¯re coming, so if they rent a van or if there are suspicious disappearances that match the profile we have to know.¡±


    ¡°I have contacts that can take care of that.¡±


    ¡°Ok second we need a place to lure them in. That would be my house.¡±


    ¡°Uh wait. Why not an empty parking lot or something?¡±


    ¡°I have the home advantage, and it¡¯s mostly secluded. And the surveillance team is gone anyway.¡±


    ¡°Ok. ¡°


    ¡°Now for the ambush. I will try to find infused weapons but we can also use some heavy ordinance.¡±


    ¡°You mean things that go boom?¡±


    ¡°Yes as in massive damage if we really want to hurt them. I know you¡¯re a cop but it¡¯s for a good cause.¡±


    ¡°Actually I know¡­ A guy. I¡¯ll have everything ready.¡±


    ¡°Then we have the beginning of a plan. Let¡¯s work on getting the stuff together. Oh, wait, I have to take this.¡±


    ¡°Alright I¡¯m off keep your phone at hand. And learn to shoot.¡±


    ¡°Will do. Hello?¡±

 Interlude - Phone call 4

    - Hello?


    - Hum h-hello, Nathan?


    - Ah Patience, thanks for calling.


    - Yes well, I certainly.. owe you that much f-for saving my life, al-although Im m not s-sure what you¡­ expect me to¡­


    - I talked to the others and I know there are more of those things out there.


    - Those, uh th-things you say?


    - You know what I mean. The Eaters? Your flesh eating kidnapers?


    - Enough!


    - ¡­


    - Sorry, habit. Hmm. Ass-ssuming you are.. right, what do you expect me to do exactly? Im¡­ just a nurse.


    - Just a nurse huh? By the way I talked to Sarah recently, she said that the doctors are all dazzled by her incredible recovery. They say she should have bled to death before she reached help, and that when I talked to her in the ER she should have been deeply asleep. They were amazed. A real miracle. You wouldn¡¯t know anything about that would you?Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.


    - Do not talk about miracles s-so lightly. Faith can d-do a¡­ lot.


    - Ah yes, but here faith had a helping hand. Have you noticed anything unusual about you recently? Related to your care of patients.


    - . I.. Huh. I d¡­dont know where you are going with this.


    - Where Im going is that there are other eaters out there and they need to be stopped. I¡¯m trying to get a group together. If you can do what I believe you can do you would be a huge help to us.


    - I appreciate what you are doing, Mr Nathan, I truly do, but I have a husband and five kids and more patients than I can shake a stick at and I will not drop all of this to go hunting demons with you. I am not a warrior.


    - I should have worked on my pitch, I assumed that it would be easy to convince you guys.


    - You c¡­ You called Seren too?


    - Yes she rejected my offer.


    - I am s-sorry Mr Nathan but I c¡­ really can¡¯t¡­ help you. My husband threw a f-fit when he opened your package. I am still trying to ca- to calm him down, he thinks I¡¯m in trouble.


    - Maybe he should learn boundaries, that package had your name on it, not his.


    - I d¡¯¡­ I dont appreciate your lessons.


    - Ok fine, whatever. Just remember that the eaters kidnapped you on purpose and there are still other out there. You do your things and keep this phone at hand for when they come back, ok? Because they will


    - I¡­ Yes. I will. Im sorry¡­ Nathan. I can see you really want to help. I will pray for you, but I¡¯m sure the police will protect us if those¡­ Things¡­ come back.


    - We both know they are not equipped to protect you against that. Keep the phone at hand. Goodbye Patience.


    - Wait! Are they.. Are those things demons?


    - Not in the way you mean. If you change your mind you know how to reach me.


    Click.

 2.9 Thicker than water.

    ¡°I am terribly sorry Mrs Nechayeva. I know how much it means to you.¡±


    Seren studies Allen¡¯s face. The lawyer really does look like your every day nice uncle, and she is definitely sure he milks it for all it¡¯s worth. Still, looking in his eyes she sees no deception. Allen¡¯s sympathy looks genuine.


    ¡°I expected as much, so don¡¯t worry.¡±


    All in all, Seren has it easy. Liam¡¯s family will not press charges. Seren wishes that it is because they realize the error of their ways, but she suspects that it¡¯s the combination of reputation, self proclaimed fencing prowess and the threat of the video of Liam¡¯s ass kicking ending on Youtube that did it.


    And it¡¯s not like she wanted to go back to the club anyway. How could she expect to take advice from someone she despises? Salvador bears some of the responsibility for this fiasco. His failure to control Liam cost his team two of their three best fencers.


    Still, that was all of her equipment. And fencing partners. And easy access to competitions. Oh well. It¡¯s done.


    ¡°As for your stay in Cornell, I was able to reach the disciplinary committee and you are probably looking at some community service works. I will, of course, monitor the situation. I am worried about those agents you met, hum¡­¡±


    ¡°Chauham and Eriksen.¡±


    ¡°Ah yes. Curious. Is it perhaps related to¡­?¡±


    ¡°It is.¡±


    ¡°I see, well, I will need to make some research. I will take my leave now. If anything happens, you have my number and remember, don¡¯t talk about it to anyone without me being present. I cannot stress this enough.¡±


    ¡°Dont worry it¡¯s not as if I want to.¡±


    ¡°You have been under a lot of stress recently, hum¡­ You might be more vulnerable to pressure that usual.¡±


    Seren purses her lips. Stress? What a joke. Stress. Hah. More like utter despair. Still, uncle Allen is just doing his job.


    ¡°I got it. Mouth zipped until you¡¯re here.¡±


    ¡°Thank you. Oh, I almost forgot. Hum¡­ Your father expressed the desire to join you by phone at 9PM Eastern Standard Time. I believe that it will be during his lunch break. I took the liberty of giving him your current phone number. ¡°If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.


    Seren remembers her gaze make people uncomfortable when Allen finally turns red with embarrassment. It is sometimes difficult to remember that her resting bitch face is currently on overdrive due to pallor and the black under her eyes. She must be really close to that special crazy bag lady look. Her finger distractedly reaches for the tear in her coat¡¯s fabric.


    ¡°That¡¯s alright I guess. He hired you after all. ¡°


    Then she remembers she is tired of excusing other people behaviors.


    ¡°You should have asked me beforehand, this was not polite. Nor professional.¡±


    ¡°I understand Ms Nechayeva. Your father¡¯s arguments were really convincing though.¡±


    ¡°What arguments were those exactly?¡±


    ¡°He said you needed help and help would be offered. You do need help. I am not just talking about the recent circumstances, you will face difficulties in the future. I have met people like Chauham before and they can only be here if they want something for you, and when they do they don¡¯t understand the meaning of no. They always have the means of getting what they want. ¡°


    Allen¡¯s steady gaze bores into Seren¡¯s soul. Gone is the nice uncle, as the cold intellect behind the jolly appearance becomes apparent.


    ¡°You were broken in that room Ms Nechayeva. He had you. Five more seconds and I would have been too late.¡±


    ¡°I¡­¡±


    ¡°Just think about what I said, you really do need help. There is no shame in that. The shame would be that you have to drop out of a prestigious university for a stupid reason, or falling prey to the likes of agent Chauham. Take care Mrs Nechayeva and goodbye.¡±


    ¡°Bye.¡±


    (In Russian)


    "Hello?"


    "Oh Renka, my little one. I am so sorry for your beloved. I wish I could have met him. I will not ask you if you are well, just know that you are in my heart."


    "Thank you dad, and thank you for the lawyer, it was a big help."


    "I offer you my home again but I imagine you do not want yet to return."


    "I am sorry dad, I want to stay."


    "Ah yes, you must have unfinished business. You are so strong Renka. Strong like your mother. You stay and do what you have to do, please remember that our home is your home. Ilia has a room saved for you, she would welcome you, always."


    "Yes dad, she is a good woman. She has only ever shown kindness to me."


    "But she is not your mother and for that, you cannot forgive her. Aaah Renka, you worry your father. Trouble never comes alone in this world."


    "I will be very careful."


    "Would you come for Christmas?"


    "I¡­ Yes, I want to."


    "You will? Oh that is great Renka, the little ones will be so happy to see their sister, wait until I tell them!"


    "I will plan the trip, I probably won¡¯t stay too long."


    "Of course. You must tell me when you land. We will bring you winter clothes. You do not have to worry about anything but to come."


    "I would like that and huh dad, thank you for not trying."


    "Ah Renka, I only want to protect you and give you the best, but I have come to realize that the harder I try to hold you and the more you struggle. It is best to let you fly away from me and hope you will feel safe enough to return. I will be here for you, always."


    "Dad¡­"


    "But I will still try to find you a good husband."


    "DAD!"


    "Hahahaha not during Christmas. It is a promise. A truce."


    "And dad?"


    "Hm?"


    "If one of Ilia¡¯s friend comes to visit with her young, handsome son who happens to be an investment banker I¡¯m out of here."


    "Oh Renka you hurt my heart, do you think your father so shrewd?"


    "..."


    "Ah very well, young Sergei will be disappointed. Besides, he is an architect."


    "I¡¯ll send you my flight detail as soon as I get it. Bye dad."


    "Goodbye Renka. It was good to talk to you without all the usual screaming."

 2.10 Customer Disservice

    ¡°This is an outrage! Do you know how much I paid for this? I want my fucking money back!¡±


    From the corner of his eyes, Nathan catches Allan pass by and waves his hand, his white dress shirt as pristine as ever. His own esteemed customer keeps ranting. Allan must have entire stores of white shirts at his place. Mountains of them.


    His trained ears pick up the words ¡°incompetent¡± and ¡°fucking joke¡± and he switches his attention back to the man standing not so tall in front of him, finally starting to lose wind. Nathan lets him finish and keeps a suitably contrite and sorry mask. He imagines Allan in a walk-in dresser room, all filled with the exact same white dress shirt and black ties, and asking himself what he could possibly wear that day. Nathan struggles to keep a neutral expression.


    The man facing him stops to catch his breath. He is a large fellow, middle aged with a sweaty striped shirt, balding black hairs peppered with grey and sad brown eyes. He crosses his arms defensively and Nathan realizes he should have said something earlier. Missed timing due to overactive imagination. Not very professional. Fortunately, it isn¡¯t too late yet.


    ¡°Of course sir, may I ask your name so I can find you in our system?"


    He gives it, and Nathan acknowledges even though he already knows everything including his address and phone number, he is just stalling so he can check the availability of their repair team. All of this could have been done sooner of course, but complaining people demand full attention. Nathan sometimes wonders how much better the world would be if people realized how often letting their emotions control them gets in the way of their happiness. Then again, complaining can get you more stuff than just being reasonable just because people want you to stop. It¡¯s a balance.


    ¡°We apologize for this service Mr Lee, however we would like you to allow us to make up for it. I have a repair team available right now and they could go check your installation immediately. You could go and select a couple blue rays so you can test the home cinema when they are done. On the house of course.¡±


    Solid stuff works better on older customers while younger people prefer free months of streaming services. It¡¯s not like blue rays sell anyway, with most people torrenting what they do not stream. Yarrr.


    Mr Lee of the striped shirt hesitates one second before starting angrily about how he has had enough disappointment but the brief pause is enough, he is the constructive kind, the one who is more interested in reparation than in revenge. His eyes dart toward Nathan¡¯s bandaged left arm and he starts to show signs of empathy, worry, and guilt


    If it were a normal situation he would have inquired after Nathan¡¯s health. Screaming at him had made him feel like an asshole.


    ¡°Please sir, most problems like those come from a bad installation, it could be solved in five minutes. ¡°


    Nathan can almost see the gears grinding inside his head, but his fuel had been anger and it had run out. Nathan looks harmless, wounded even, his phone in hand already raised, waiting for his approval. Mistakes are going to be fixed, apologies have been made, a price is to be paid and the lure of browsing a store for gifts is difficult to resist.


    ¡°Well, alright I guess."


    "Thank you sir. Blue rays are over there.¡±


    Nathan passes on data and instructions and the well honed corporate machine stirs while striped shirt Lee walks away, still a bit defensive.


    Nathan looks at Naomi and winks. The tall woman only returns a skeptical glance, the brows drawn on her dark skin raised high.


    ¡°This was an easy one sugar, let¡¯s see how you handle that." She points with her chin.


    ¡°Hey next one was supposed to be yours.¡±


    ¡°You see that chick? She will ask for you within two minutes.¡±


    Sometimes, Nathan thinks, he can tell if someone is for his team just by the way they walk. The woman in question is striding angrily with the self-importance of a banana republic general, or a scorned Latina lover, whichever is worst. If it had been a bar Nathan would have ducked behind the closest table. He reminds himself the wooden counter offers a nice buffer and would be hard to climb. As if.


    The woman has short but artfully cut dyed blond hairs, a face that might have been pleasant if it had worn a different expression and reasonably stylish clothes, not quite hiding the fact that she is overweight. Her shoes look particularly expensive and so does her bag. Nathan would bet ten bucks her name is either Karen or Susan. As Miss Nemesis stops and looks around Nathan steels himself in anticipation and sighs deeply. Naomi chuckles briefly, a pleasant, throaty sound. It is the calm before the storm.


    Irate customer finds them and aims at the after sales booth like some kind of seeking missile of offended fury. The more Nathan sees, the less he likes. She has finely manicured hands. She moves with the gait of someone not used to being fat, must have been recent. Worst of all, she is holding a small dog in her right arm, the wretched thing looking around with bulging black eyes and shivering as if it had a fever. The ¡°No pets allowed¡± notice is for other people of course, not her, she is too important. As she comes closer Nathan spots scarlet cheeks and nose beneath the makeup. Alcohol. All indicators on the asshole detector shift to bright red and he tries to relax his shoulders in preparation for the showdown, before wincing in pain. His left arm still has a deep cut and he had to stop taking painkillers after Gwahin had talked about ¡°clear mind¡±, ¡°pain tolerance¡± and ¡°stop being such a sissy¡±. He tries to forget the pain, the incoming shit show and Toothy currently trying to build a fort out of post-its and paper clips. He should convert to Buddhism and move to Nepal.If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.


    The woman closes the last few feet and a wave of perfume submerges him, barely masking that of booze. That¡¯s it, Nathan is going to die, drowned in amber, vanilla and distilled malt, not by the hands of a Varog but from fumes at a thousand bucks a bottle. Nathan doesn¡¯t know what fate he should blame for that woman not walking next to an open flame and spontaneously combusting.


    ¡°You¡¯re customer service?¡±


    Nathan resists looking up at the big, big panel with ¡°customer service¡± written on it in bold letters and telling her ¡°No I¡¯m the king of ice cream and I¡¯m waiting for my nephew¡±.


    ¡°Yes how may I assist y¡­¡±


    ¡°I want to talk to a manager. I have dealt with enough clueless idiots today. No offense.¡±


    She bares her teeth in what was probably an attempt at a condescending smile but was just really her own satisfaction at having insulted someone who could not reply without losing his job. Of course. No offense. Right.


    Nathan¡¯s smile is frozen on his face. He has seen it all before but for some reason, his ability to distance himself from all this shit is wearing thin recently. Normally he would let all of this go through him and would simply not care, for the simple reason that the person in front of him is insignificant and nothing they say can affect him. That woman simply doesn¡¯t matter. It¡¯s a skill.


    Sensing something, Toothy lazily takes off from behind the counter under the panicked gaze of the queen bitch¡¯s rat like dog.


    Nathan points to his corporate shirt where a large pin where ¡°Nathan, Manager¡± is written in bold, clear letter and announces:


    ¡°I¡¯m the fucking manager you booze whale.¡±


    Just kidding.


    He says ¡°As it happens I am the manager, please let me assist you with your¡­¡±


    ¡°You? A manager? Bullshit. Get me your manager then, and stop wasting my fucking time.¡±


    She grabs the complimentary penholder off the counter and half pushes, half throws it into Nathan. He watches in disbelief as the heavy black cylinder slides off the counter and, with uncanny accuracy, lands on his still-healing arm. The dull throb immediately turns to blinding pain. Nathan recoils and hisses. Seriously, what are the odds? What are the fucking odds? Naomi is already calling security but they won¡¯t get there before he does what he intends to do. He will lean over the counter and wipe the smirk off that bitch¡¯s face by smashing it in the wooden frame. He cannot wait to see her ugly mug turn to panic, the crunch of broken bones and her mewls of pain as blood pours down her expensive rags in a beautiful crimson tide. It will be glorious.


    No.


    What is wrong with him? There are protocols to deal with this kind of situation, protocols that he reviews and enforces regularly. Those rules serve his department well and give harried people guidelines on how to deal with the small minority of utter assholes who believe they are too important for rules and regulations, that employees are just insects to do their bidding, and that there is a conspiracy to frustrate them and waste their time. Nathan manages to stop himself midway off his chair.


    The queen bitch has taken a step back and stares at him warily. With agonizing slowness, Nathan sits back and forces his anger down, down the cold well of his control. Yes. Everything is fine.


    The Sylvan strikes.


    The bitch¡¯s dog is struggling in her arms as if knowing what was going to happen. Nathan wants to stop all this, to deescalate the situation but it is far too late: Toothy reacts to emotions and Nathan¡¯s have gone too far out of control. In the blink of an eye, The Sylvan dives on the dog and is gone, but not without taking some flesh.


    Oblivious to it, the bitch sees him back down and decides it is time to strike back.


    ¡°You dare? You piece of sh¡­¡±


    She would never get to finish that sentence. Her dog¡¯s mild struggle turns into a flight for his life as he yowls in pain. She reflexively holds him tighter and he does want all cornered creatures do: he bites.


    Canine jaws clamp on her fat arm and start ripping. Nathan can only watch in grisly fascination as her flaccid flesh tears and blood start dripping down her arm. Her shrieks of pain reach all the way to the cashiers and a few heads start to turn.


    ¡°OH SHIT.¡±


    Naomi reacts first and rushes to her help. It is the bitch¡¯s turn to struggle and in only a few moments she successfully grabs her ex-pet and throws it away with the strength of desperation, making her wound much worse in the process.


    Nathan is still in his chair when security rushes to his booth, looking at Toothy munch on something and oozing satisfaction. Nathan cannot see the woman, but he can hear her. She is currently screaming like a fucking banshee, cursing at Naomi and him, the store, the whole fucking world. Nathan tries to tell himself that he did not go help her because she would not have accepted it. He then tries to tell himself it was because of his surprise at Toothy¡¯s action. Then because of the threat of a lawsuit. The truth though, is that he had wanted her to suffer and she had.


    Nathan shakes himself. Time to be useful.


    "Hum, security? There is a loose dog near aisle 6."


    ¡°On it.¡±


    Two hours later she is gone, the blood has been cleaned and everything is back to normal. Sort of.


    Nathan finds himself in the break room drinking a cup of coffee. It looks like it someone used mud instead of roasted beans and it tastes about as good as you would expect. He is the unwilling witness to the slaughter of a bag of sugar, savagely gutted by Toothy¡¯s claws after an epic fight. The little Sylvan is celebrating his victory by devouring its innards.


    The security chief, a tall black man with a belly called Lucas comes in. They are the only two humans in the room.


    ¡°Hey Nathan I was looking for you.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s up man?¡±


    He looks embarrassed for a second.


    ¡°Huh it¡¯s about that woman. We found her dog. Anything you would like to tell me?¡±


    Nathan frowns before remembering about the bite. Of course. ¡°


    ¡°No? Why? Is there?¡±


    ¡°Well it¡¯s just that¡­ The dog was bleeding. You don¡¯t have anything to do with that, do you? I mean, Im not accusing you of anything it¡¯s just that this customer is pissed as hell and we¡¯re all pretty sure she¡¯s going to sue.¡±


    ¡°Lucas, I did not come within three feet of the woman and I certainly did not touch her, how could I make the dog bleed? The nasty thing probably hurt itself escaping. ¡°


    It wasn¡¯t the first time they had issues about disgruntled people claiming the team assaulted them, they had very good security cameras on the customer service desk and several years of archived film secured at an offsite location. Nathan had made sure of it. Now Nathan has some regrets, but is not too worried. Toothy has a way of bending light, and even if Security saw something it couldn¡¯t be linked to him right? Right? Right. Who would believe in the carnivorous version of Tinkerbell anyway.


    ¡°Yeah sure, the guys are checking the footage right now. I was just checking and, you know, giving you the heads up. Just in case.¡±


    ¡°I appreciate that man I really do.¡±


    ¡°That woman was talking about legal actions and everything.¡±


    ¡°They all do, but the dog was in her hands when he bit her so¡­¡±


    His phone rang and he answered promptly. After a few seconds said "I see, good", then hangs up.


    ¡°Ok fine there¡¯s nothing on tape. I don¡¯t know why it just starts trying to escape all of a sudden.¡±


    ¡°Maybe she was crushing it, angry people do that sometimes.¡±


    ¡°Yeah¡­¡±


    The room drowns in awkward silence.


    ¡°I have to go back to work, you take care now.¡±


    ¡°Goodbye Lucas. Thanks for coming to tell me in person. I appreciate it.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, bye.¡±


    There is nothing on tape as he expected, so there is no proof. The problem is that unless he gets himself under control this could happen again and if it does, he could unwillingly send the next asshole who gets on his nerves to the hospital, or worse, lose his job. This is not like him at all. It could be that the recent events have taken a toll on him but Nathan suspects the reality is more worrying: the Weave is messing with his life.

 2.11 Ethics

    ¡°Ow, ow! I¡¯m awake. I¡¯m awake! Stop that.¡±


    Gwahin sits back up on Nathan chest and stops slapping him, she reaches on the ground and produces a small gourd.


    ¡°Here, drink this. ¡°


    Nathan swallows the vile mixture as fast as it could go down and waits for the inevitable migraine to hit. Yep, there it is. He winces.


    Toothy is hovering above his face wearing an expression of calm expectation, or perhaps, contempt. Faces are somewhat hard to read from a low angle.


    Gwahin had tasked him to deceive Toothy onlyusing his natural ability while the Sylvan was doing the same. Surely there is no shame in being ridiculed by a pint-sized voodoo doll that was almost literally born yesterday, right? Right? Right. No shame at all. He is probably magical by nature. That¡¯s cheating, is what it is.


    ¡°Enough with weaving practice, you should never risk going blank twice in a day. Instead, I will attempt to show you how to stab something.¡±


    ¡°Any advice on how to win against the little guy?¡±


    ¡°Wait, human. Wait. You actually believed you had a chance?¡±


    ¡°¡­¡±


    ¡°Hahahahhohohohohoho you are just too much. No, there is no hint, no strategy. You are thinking normal human while you should be thinking Yol. Or Jedi!¡±


    ¡°You spend too much time watching TV.¡±


    ¡°Silence! Do not interrupt me when I am lecturing you. You are not meant to win, you are meant to practice until this weaving of yours is engraved in your being, until it comes as naturally as breathing. That is your goal. Also! For the record, no human can catch a Sylvan in a forest. They are too good, and too fast. Get this idea out of your head.¡±


    ¡°But I do catch him sometimes, like when he was tying my store leader¡¯s shoes together.¡±


    ¡°Only when he lets you.¡±


    Toothy abandons his current attempt to discreetly lift Gwahin¡¯s gourd and nestles in Nathan¡¯s collar. It¡¯s getting cold.


    ¡°He defended me two days ago, you know?¡±


    ¡°Oh? Someone died?¡±


    ¡°Not exactly. He bit a woman¡¯s dog. Took out a chunk of flesh and that made it bite her in return.¡±


    ¡°Hahahaha what a prankster.¡±


    ¡°The thing is, the dog wasn¡¯t attacking me, the woman was. And she was not even dangerous.¡±


    ¡°She probably wasn¡¯t. It is, after all, an enlightened age. But. What was your intent?¡±


    Gwahin walks to Nathan and never since her attempts to dominate him had he felt her otherness so much. Her steps are predatory, and although her body is the same she feels bigger, larger, and absolutely lethal. Nathan feels the flow uncoil and stretch around her, like a cat waking up. There could be a house a few minutes walk from here. There might even be other humans somewhere, but right now, it doesn¡¯t feel that way. The forest grows around them to infinity and its queen stands before him. Gwahin¡¯s voice grows strong and seductive.This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.


    ¡°You wanted to kill her, but before that you wanted to maim her and make her and the others understand that you are not to be trifled with. You would have seen the disbelief and the fear in her eyes as her life slips away from her and you would have reveled in it, and instead you controlled yourself out of habit and internalized rules, but not out of belief. You did not believe that she should be spared, yes? The flow hates hypocrisy.¡±


    ¡°I did not attack her because she was no danger to me even though she was a bitch. I do not let my emotions and my instincts drive me, that is the domain of beasts and monsters.¡±


    ¡°Nathan, Nathan¡­. What is your polite society¡¯s stability based on? Internalized rules. Enough of you respect the rules that transgressors can be contained by those of you dedicated to the enforcement of said rules. Yes? Most of you uphold this and the rule breakers are crushed with overwhelming force. When you faced that woman you did not stop yourself out of belief but out of fear, Nathan Mordred Turner, and the Sylvan acted because your fear is a lie.¡±


    ¡°The police busting my ass for violence is not a lie.¡±


    ¡°But they could not because there would be nothing to ¡°bust¡± you for. Your ¡°Toothy¡± hurt that person. Were you arrested? No. Again, the rules only apply because no single man can stand against ten others without facing overwhelming odds. You have weapons that act as equalizers, ways to coordinate, to hunt down those transgressors I mentioned, but what happens when a man can stand against a hundred warriors and win? What happens when a man can hurt another and never be caught? Those internalized rules no longer apply. Weavers are such individuals. The next time you face such a situation, you should control yourself out of belief and not out of unfounded fear, because the Sylvan¡¯s power will only grow and so will yours, and the next punishment might be death. Nathan, you must act out of belief,not control and believe in your acts, or the Weave will punish you.¡±


    ¡°This¡­ This means that other natural weavers might just decide to, you know, let go. Follow their most basic instincts¡±


    ¡°There will be some.¡±


    The moment loses its gravity and the glade returns to normal.


    ¡°Wait. Wait¡­ I never believed that the dog was a threat! Why did Toothy attack the dog then?¡±


    ¡°Aaaaah humans and their rules of war. Your kind have many rules about what should and should not be done in conflict and you cannot even agree on them among each other. Apparently, for you, an animal belonging to the enemy should not be harmed, yes?¡±


    ¡°Yes well I mean, it¡¯s not like it¡¯s their fault.¡±


    ¡°I would prefer to be honest with you. If someone attacks me or my kin, they, their families, pets, livestock and belongings are all fair game."


    "I really hope it doesn¡¯t come to this."


    "Oh it will, but do not worry. I am not vengeful enough to actually go after their family after they have died. My point is, your rules of war only apply to those who believe it. That would be some humans. Do not expect other races to act the same way."


    "So Toothy will go after pets?"


    ¡°Toothy¡± will act according to his nature, and he is not human."


    "You know, out of the three supernatural species I have met, two have tried to hurt me seriously and the third has nested in my favorite teapot. Those are not good odds."


    "What are you talking about human, those are excellent odds. You are very lucky."


    "If you say so. Gwahin, I need to talk to you about what to do. If I want to kill the Varogs and I mean actually killing them, I need an infused weapon. Or two. Can you teach me how to make one?"


    "I will, but we should create it a day before the battle. You will understand why when we do it. And it will be a living weapon, a Yol weapon."


    "Like that bow of yours, the one I saw you work on?"


    "Yes. I am sure human hunters have their own ways but¡­ I do not know them."


    "But you said it¡¯s about doing it yourself when Henkel was here."


    "Yes. By this I mean that it cannot be built by a factory. It must be made with, well, intent."


    "Would that be enough?"


    "I suppose not. I am afraid you would have to question hunters to know more."


    "Could normal weapons be made more effective against Varogs?"


    "Yes, I suppose, although they would never be as effective as a proper Makka. The weapon must be yours. People who see it must know at first glance that it belongs to someone. Customizing it helps, as well as using it, cleaning it, spending time on it. It goes without saying, but natural weavers like you will make weapon much more effective."


    "Hmmm, what about arrows or bullets? Would working on them make them more effective?¡±


    ¡°Yes of course. Hah. Your friend the police officer will assist you then?¡±


    ¡°Yeah that¡¯s what I was thinking about. If I can infuse bullets, even a little bit, it would help a lot. Between this and the infused weapon we should be able to take on two of those creatures.¡±


    ¡°I sure hope so Nathan Mordred Turner. I also hope there will only be two of them.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t jinx it.¡±

 2.12 Blintzkrieg

    The blintz¡¯s dough parts under his teeth, only to free the creamy filling. It is light and sweet and tastes of lemon and cinnamon. Nathan sits back and sighs in pleasure.


    ¡°Sarah those are delicious!¡±


    ¡°Of course they are, I made them. ¡°


    Nathan watches her deftly flip one of her blintz in the air then catch it with the frying pan. Sarah is a methodical cook and if the loss of her arm has affected her, the impeccable work plan as well as the steaming tower of blintz gives no clue of it. In the past two weeks they have grown closer and the most surprising thing is how open she is about the existence of magic.


    He softly shakes Gwahin''s shoulder. The Yol is looking at the apple filling with a strange intensity. After a while she just looks at Nathan instead, blinks, then shoves an entire blintz in her mouth.


    ¡°Mmmshoush¡±


    ¡°Gwahin it looks like you are attempting to communicate. You should try to swallow the food and then speak, It helps, you will see.¡±


    Toothy is passed out on the table, victim of baklava induced food comma. The two have become drowsier as winter approaches.


    ¡°You are too arrogant human. And sassy. You are letting your minor success go to your head.¡±


    Nathan is getting more and more convinced that Yol cannot tell the difference between training and educating their kids. Half of the training is just games, which is nice but it also feels a bit random. Those past sessions had confirmed a few things. No matter how hard he tries, Nathan cannot weave anything without a lot of efforts. As Gwahin had said, the part of him that touches the flow is atrophied and only time and practice will make it grow strong. He is reminded of that scene in The Matrix when Neo asks why his muscles hurt and Morpheus tells him it¡¯s because he has never used them before, except instead of Lawrence Fishburn, the mentor figure is under five feet high and can also eat up to a hundred dollars of groceries in one sitting. That does not deter his mentor from training him of course. In order to prepare for the creation of an infused weapon, she had him bend wood in different shapes. He now has two funky back scratchers and a weird looking brush for Bismarck.


    Besides weaving, he actually proved himself decent at dodging Gwahin¡¯s spear, but where he shines is when playing hide and seek. Now, Gwahin is a forest spirit with a forest colored skin and a century of experience hiding from, and tracking humans. The term ¡°unfair competition¡± may have crossed Nathan¡¯s mind, and yet, if they were keeping score they would be even.


    Gwahin says keeping score is a human notion and that when playing, he should only focus on the present because this is all just training for the day when hiding will be a life and death situation where his score will not matter. Nathan suspects Gwahin is full of it and just doesn¡¯t like to lose, and, no matter how hard she tries, he can always find her. At first, it was not difficult. Following her aura was like finding the sun in the sky. Then she started to actually work on hiding herself, but Nathan would always end up tracking her location within a few feet. The hardest part was actually spotting the devious chameleon girl. The best part was pointing a finger at her face while loudly exclaiming ¡°There you are!¡±. Her grumblings and grudging recognition made the trek through the woods worth it.


    ¡°So you haven¡¯t told your friend Ambrose about Gwahin of the leaves?¡±


    Nathan raises his head long enough to see Sarah dump a pile of fresh blintz on Gwahin¡¯s plate. The Yol thanks her with a soft voice and a hand on her shoulder. Sarah does not express any discomfort at the contact if anything she looks happy. Nathan wonders whether Gwahin realizes how protective she is and if it relates to the fact she calls Sarah ¡°child¡±. Sarah is not a weaver and so she is nearly defenseless, and yet she took Gwahin¡¯s existence in stride, especially after Nathan had mentioned that the weapon she had provided had been, quite literally, a blast. Now she shows up on occasion and feeds both of them. Her contribution to the war effort, she says. Perhaps this, more than her age, is what appealed to Gwahin, or maybe the Yol is just lonely and has a weakness for apple cream.This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.


    The proof that humans and other sentient beings can coexist is a very comforting thought and it is something that only Sarah could have brought. Ambrose would be a whole other problem.


    ¡°No. For several reasons but the main one is this: Ambrose is fiercely patriotic.¡±


    ¡°So? You don¡¯t trust him?¡±


    ¡°I trust him to do what he thinks is best. That¡¯s not necessarily the best for me, or for Gwahin.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t get it but ok.¡±


    Just then his other phone rings.


    ¡°Yep?¡±


    ¡°This is Henkel. You know, not much has been happening recently.¡±


    Nathan takes his best Noir detective voice.


    ¡°Is this the part where you go see that informant in the murky, derelict part of town where dreams come to die?"


    "Could you be serious for a second?¡±


    Nathan deflates a bit. Obviously, Martin Henkel¡¯s sense of humor left to get cigarettes at the store a decade ago, leaving behind the bitter detective.


    ¡°Yeah yeah,


    ¡°I kept my eyes opened for something similar to¡­ To what we had here¡±


    Henkel could not bring himself to voice ¡°man-eating spawns right out of the depths of the seventh circle of hell¡±. No surprise here.


    ¡°I did not find anything similar for a while, which does not mean that there is nothing, a lot of people disappear every year after all. Anyway, I got a call: possible matches two days ago in Virginia and yesterday in Maryland. ¡°


    ¡°How is that a match?¡±


    ¡°They have the same MO.¡±


    ¡°Ooooh police linguo! Does that mean I am one of you?¡±


    ¡°Cut it Nathan I¡¯m not in the mood.¡±


    ¡°They are moving north then. You think they will come here?¡±


    "Honestly, buddy, I don¡¯t know. You seem to know more about¡­ Those things, than I do but if they do, they should be here tomorrow."


    Nathan thinks for a while.


    Gwahin has disclosed very little information about them or what other ugly critters they may encounter; something about her being the teacher and choosing what she would teach, how decades of wisdom and experience dictated her decision and ¡°Mortal, you are but an ignorant child, yadda yadda yadda.¡± Anyway. What he does know was that the first one had ¡°smelled¡± him on Sarah and that the other had tried to ambush them as they were making their ways to his car. He has to assume that they have some way to find him, so logically they would follow him.


    Then if he could bait them to a suitable place of his choosing, for example a minefield or a mall on black Friday, he could dispose of them.


    Not by himself of course.


    ¡°We have to assume that they can track us and planaroundit. We don¡¯t really have a way tofind them ourselves anyway, so here is what we will do. Today I won¡¯t go out, tomorrow you come to my place early and we set up shop. You have the firepower you were looking for right?"


    "Wait you want to fight them on your own property?"


    "Why not it¡¯s secluded and I¡¯m no longer under strict surveillance right?"


    "It¡¯s your call."


    "Do you have the firepower?"


    "Oh buddy, hell yeah I do. And my brother will be here as well."


    "You want your brother to fight this?"


    "My bro is, well, you will see for yourself. So, tomorrow we show up at dawn, prepare the place and then what?"


    "You and I will take the car and drive around, I will do something that makes me, huh, visible to them. Then we go home and we wait."


    "Isn''t it risky to drive around? Wouldn''t they attack us on the street?"


    "I don¡¯t believe they would, at least they''ve never done it before. Every time they attacked there were no more than two people around. I am betting they will just follow us and then try to get the jump on us instead of risking a car chase."


    "What if they find you early? What if they go after Sarah instead? What if they just ditch the place and rush to Cornell to grab your friend?"


    "My house is secure."


    "More of that eldritch bullshit?"


    "Yes. I will tell Sarah to leave town for a while and I will warn Seren and Patience. Mhhh. Perhaps we should call those assholes of yours you know, just in case things go wrong."


    "And if we do they will arrest you and send teams here, and if the monsters come they will slaughter a lot of good people before they are taken down, and if not they will go after Seren and Patience and God knows how many other people. You getting cold feet now? Listen buddy, Im asking questions because I want this operation of ours to be as clean as possible. So far we got things that shouldn''t walk the earth, civilians and spears and chainmail. I¡¯m kind of out of my confort zone here, you got me? So get your shit together. Tomorrow I come, my bro comes, we bring enough armament to blow any hellspawn horror to kingdom come and back and then we go home and have a beer. How does that sound?"


    "That sounds really nice. Ok I¡¯ll get things started and keep you in the loop. See you."


    "Don¡¯t let met down Mr Turner.¡±


    Nathan hangs up feeling a weird mix of fear and relief. It¡¯s finally happening. They are coming. And he would be ready.

 2.13 Peer pressure

    Three people sit in front of Seren. Their faces display little emotion and she thinks it might just be a good sign. Surely if they were to expel her they would look more serious. Surely. She recognizes the dean of the College of Business. The second man works with the office for Student Life. Both men, both wearing suit and an expression of polite curiosity. The woman sitting in the middle invites her to take a seat before speaking. She wears an expensive looking ensemble under dyed blonde hairs and is tastefully made up. Seren thinks she is above fifty and her eyes are dark and sharp.


    ¡°Good afternoon Mrs Nechayeva, my name is Ruth Morrison. I am the vice-Provost for public affairs.¡±


    Seren is stunned. Public Affairs?!


    ¡°After careful deliberation we have decided on an¡­ apt punishment for you. As you know our University admits students from a great variety of backgrounds because of our belief that the dissemination of knowldege furthers our pursuit of the greater good. We firmly believe that our students will drive positive change both in the State and in the World in general.¡±


    Seren nods. To be honest, the reason she joined is that Cornell had been the best university, and the only Ivy League one, to accept her application. To be completely honest, she would have studied Oceanography to get away from her father¡¯s grasp and she couldn¡¯t stand boats. Cornell¡¯s School of Applied Economics¡¯ acceptance had been more than a pleasant surprise. It had been a windfall.


    ¡°We ask that pupils display their commitments to the greater good even on campus, and that includes respect for the rules and for their fellow students.¡±


    Seren lowers her eyes, trying to look suitably contrite. It¡¯s just a shame that those rules did not apply to Liam.


    ¡°You resorted to violence against another student. We cannot understate how serious an offense this is. You have shown disregard for our most fundamental value: to make the world a better place. As a result people suffered, the police was involved and your actions have impacted not only yourself and Mr Austin but our very reputation and, by extension, the entirety of the student body.¡±


    Shit really. They were going to expel her after all. Shiiiiiii-


    ¡°With that said we are not insensitive to the ¡­. Circumstances leading to this regrettable incident.¡±


    Thank fucking god.


    ¡°We appreciate that you were physically hurt and¡­In mourning¡±


    Seren does not like where this is going. How do they know about Milo? She only told Yuki. Is this public information?


    The man from the student office speaks. His voice is calm and measured


    ¡°Next time you find yourself facing a difficult situation you should use the resources provided by us. With so many students on campus we have tragedies every year so we have well trained people dedicated to helping those in need. I mean, it¡¯s easy to feel a sense of anonymity with so many people around but you are not alone. Please come see us. We are here to assist.¡±


    Seren nods again. This guy at least is trying to help, although she can¡¯t think of anything that would have helped her attend the training and not react to Liam¡¯s aggression. Industrial strength LSD maybe?


    Ruth resumes her speech as if her colleague did not exist.


    ¡°We think it would be fitting if you showed your dedication to Cornell¡¯s values by applying yourself to them in a concrete manner.¡±


    Here it comes.


    ¡°We have been recently contacted by a branch of the government that requested¡­¡±


    And that¡¯s it. That¡¯s fucking it. That¡¯s why those guys looked curious. That¡¯s why this Ruth woman showed up. Public affairs? That¡¯s like external affairs but with public entities. They would only keep her if she worked with Chauham.


    ¡°Your continued enrollment depends on your commitment to¡­¡±


    Seren only half listens. The good lawyer had it right. Chauham was going to get what he wanted. She had escaped him at the police station, she had refused to answer his calls, so he was going after what she had favored the most: her freedom. She had seen a glimmer of hope after the call with her dad. Who knows, perhaps he could have been convinced to fund her studies? Now it wouldn¡¯t matter. No amount of money would convince Cornell to keep her if she refused their punishment. She had to bend and give up her freedom to choose, or leave Cornell and give up her freedom to live the life she wanted.Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.


    ¡°Are you listening Mrs Nechayeva?"


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°Do you have any question?¡±


    ¡°Do you know what this task force you mentioned do?¡±


    ¡°No, however agent Chauham assured me that you two had spoken.¡±


    The vice-Provost¡¯s eyes turn sharper. She is not fooled.


    ¡° Mrs Nechayeva I need a firm answer."


    ¡°I need to think about it.¡±


    ¡°Do I need to remind you that your stay here depends on your willingness to comply with our decision?¡±


    ¡°As you said yourself, you do not know what this task force does, so you have no idea what you are asking me to do. I need some time to think about it.¡±


    Seren¡¯s rebuke catches the woman off guard and the dean looks vaguely amused. He is the one who speaks next.


    ¡°Mrs Nechayeva. Seren. Please consider our request, we would really like you to stay with us. I have read your student file and talked to your professors and I personally believe that you have great potential. Your previous experience with commodity trading is astounding, especially at such a young age!¡±


    Thanks dad.


    ¡°Consider your decision carefully, if only because working for prestigious agencies would look amazing on your resume.¡±


    Seren would rather get experience in cleaning fish gut than to work for the likes of Chauham.


    ¡°If that is all?¡±


    The Ithaca campus is a marvel, but right now it is also a bitter reminder of the decision she has to take. This isn¡¯t fair. Of course, life isn¡¯t fair. Seren already knew that. After Milo¡¯s death though, she had hoped that the world would give her some respite before throwing another punch, but well, fuck it. It was not meant to be. With a start, Seren realizes that she is in her room and that someone¡¯s cellphone is ringing.


    It¡¯s not her cell.


    Actually it is. Her James Bond phone as Yuki calls it.


    So that¡¯s it today is disaster day. Funny.


    ¡°Yes?"


    "Hey there it¡¯s Nathan. I got a call and¡­"


    ¡°I¡¯m in.¡±


    ¡°Same pattern as, wait what?¡±


    ¡°I said, I¡¯m in.¡±


    At another time Seren might have thought this through. Surely there is no need to risk one¡¯s life fighting monsters, if there is, why not do it with Chauham¡¯s support anyway? Seren is not thinking this through, she has succumbed to intrusive thoughts. Intrusive thoughts are those that say, hey, why not jump off that bridge, slice this passenger¡¯s throat, grab that person¡¯s butt? It is the voice of insanity. Seren knows it, but she cannot help it.


    Hey, why not face man eating monsters with no weapon and no preparation?


    Because if she wins, she will feel in control, and she will have taken revenge on Milo¡¯s murderers. If she loses?


    Well, all her problems will be solved then.


    ¡°Are you ok Seren?¡±


    That Turner man¡¯s voice brings her back from her morbid thoughts. Genuine concern. How nice.


    ¡°I will be when this is over¡±


    All of it.


    ¡°Huh right. Can you come over? Do you have a car?¡±


    ¡°No. Do you have weapon? A plan?¡±


    ¡°You realize what you are in for right? We are going to try to kill the Eaters. Of course I have a plan, but there¡¯s going to be a fight.¡±


    ¡°I said, I¡¯m in. I don¡¯t have a car though.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s fine. I¡¯ll send someone to get you. I¡¯ll call you back with the details.¡±


    Seren hangs up. There, it¡¯s done. She will fight, face things that need to be killed. After being confronted to all those gray decisions it¡¯s good to deal with something straightforward even if it is for the wrong reasons.


    And then she realizes that decision is already made. She takes out her normal phone and reaches in her sadly empty wallet for that special business card.


    Agent Chauham¡¯s card is as slick and elegant as he is. He answers after two rings. Seren suspects even the time he takes answering is calculated.


    ¡°Chauham speaking, who is this?¡±


    ¡°Well played.¡±


    ¡°Ah, Ms. Nechayeva, so good to hear from you. Have you considered my offer?"


    "You know I have considered it, I have received your ¡°offer¡±." she retorts, " You are not leaving me much of a choice."


    "I am sorry that you feel that way Seren, but you must understand the challenges that we face. You have seen what we have to deal with. We simply cannot pass up someone with your skills."


    "So you wreck my life for the greater good?"


    "Believe me I appreciate the situation I put you in but people are dying Seren, if I have to step on you to get your help I will. Not to mention that nothing will be ruined if you join us, quite the contrary. Now have you called just to complain?"


    "No I called to tell you I won¡¯t do it.¡±


    "Chauham is silent."


    ¡°I understand your anger but you must think carefully."


    "Your behavior reveals what kind of person you are. You think you are doing good things for your country? You don¡¯t even value what this country stands for."


    "Do not tell me what this country stands for! You think you know everything? Do you know how many good men we lost? I could achieve so much more if you were not so selfish!"


    "I will tell you what this country stands for because you forgot. Freedom is one of those, and it was the first thing you took from me. Well, fuck you, I¡¯m not joining."


    "Be very careful now, I am willing to make concessions but it¡¯s all off if you do not comply. I¡¯m not just an agent. I represent two agencies of the US government."


    "Gee, I feel important already. Bye Chauham.¡±


    Seren throws her cellphone on the bed and resists the urge to crawl back to Chauham and tell him she reconsidered. She buries her head in her pillow and tries to find comfort in the belief that it is the right decision, that she could not live with her choice to compromise her freedom and her principles, but try as she might, certainty eludes her.

 2.14 The red Makka

    Nathan hangs up from telling Martin where to pick up Seren then turns back and sighs. This took more time than he expected and now his blintz is cold, Sarah is off somewhere and Gwahin is looking at him with the same face reserved for people who just suggested their boss or drill sergeant shove a rocket propeller up their asses and see where that gets them.


    ¡°Human you¡­ You are going to lead Varogs to us? To ME? This wasn¡¯t part of our deals! I agreed to defend you not to act as your troop to call upon when you please!"


    "They¡¯re going after us anyway wouldn¡¯t it be better if it were on our term?"


    "That¡¯s not the point at all! Our arrangement is others attack, I defend, not you bait and I kill! This is not! Our! Contract!¡±


    Nathan is about to lose his temper but reins it in, he still needs Gwahin to help him craft an infused weapon, and besides, she is not wrong. If this is about intent as she so often repeats, then he intends to bring danger to her and she is right, this is not the spirit of what they agreed on. He feels that he could press the issue but there is surely no need to antagonize a three-century-old nature spirit who happens to be willing to teach him magic.


    ¡°You don¡¯t have to if you don¡¯t want to."


    "And you¡­ I don¡¯t?"


    "Yeah. I was not including you in the plan to start with. And with the guns we have, the infused weapon and Seren I think we can handle two eaters, especially since I will be able to tell where they are. Just, you know, defend me if they attack before we are set up."


    "That is¡­ acceptable Mordred Nathan Turner. We should head to my glade now and get you armed. I will head first.¡±


    Gwahin is gone, her usual gait replaced by tense strides. She¡¯s fast too. As usual, Nathan doesn¡¯t hear the noise of the door opening and closing which makes him wonder if she just slips under it. As he starts to follow her he realizes why she left him behind.


    Sarah is in the living room nestled in one of his biggest sofas, tapping nervously on her phone. From here she looks vulnerable with her tiny feet peeking out of her oversized wool sweater. Nathan takes in the rare sight. From here he can only see from her face a pair of chocolate eyes peeking under a mass of dark curls. Sensing him, she stands up and stretches.


    ¡°Hey Nat, I¡¯m asking my Mom to take care of Isaac tomorrow as well."


    "Hum, you¡¯re not fighting."


    "I know I¡¯m not stupid, but I need to know¡­ How it goes."


    "If you show up and we lose, you die. That sounds like an awful idea to me."


    "What¡¯s not to say I¡¯m not next anyway. What if those eaters want to finish me off because I¡¯m a witness or something?"


    "You don¡¯t know that¡­"


    "And you don¡¯t know it¡¯s not true. And you don¡¯t know that they will not come after me first because I¡¯m super delicious."


    "I¡¯m just staying you are putting yourself at risk for no reason. We could have you in protective custody."


    "Listen, Nathan. It¡¯s not your decision.¡±


    Nathan suspects he could win her over using the Isaac argument: if you die for no reason your son will grow up without a mother, yet a few things stop him. One, it would be a complete dick move. Two, this is Sarah, she could pretend to agree then sneak in from the back at a critical moment. And three, everyone who will be here tomorrow will be here by their own choice, facing something that they could all run from. It¡¯s not like Nathan couldn¡¯t hop on a plane to Key West and use his company vacation time eating lime pie until someone else deals with the problem. Sarah has earned the right to decide to stay. As far as he knows there should be two Varogs and they will face off against four people, of whom two are weavers and two have combat training, a tired Sylvan, possibly a tired Yol, an infused weapon and enough modern armament and explosives to satisfy a doomsday prepper, she should be fine. It will be up to him to make sure that she will be fine.


    ¡°Fine but you stay near the phone and if things go south you call the cops then run. Gwahin will protect you."


    "That was my plan. And, huh, can I stay the night?¡±


    The magic words hang in the air and Nathan is suddenly really, really aware of how close she is, and how she is anxiously biting her lovely lips and ooooh must not think about that. Of course, he should refuse it¡¯s not prof¡­


    ¡°Oh yeah of course. Hum. It¡¯s probably better that way in case the eaters arrive earlier than expected."


    "Yeah that¡¯s what I was thinking about too. Hm. I mean, that was my plan. Hm. You should go get that thing of yours.¡±


    Nathan walks on the now familiar path and visualizes the proverbial little angel and demon who give bits of advice. The devil says ¡°sweet we getting laid¡±. The Angel takes a pompous tone and adds ¡°Do you know that famous sportsmen have sex before a match because it increases their testosterone levels?¡±


    Nathan shakes his head and dismisses the images. He needs to focus on getting an infused weapon and not the possibility that he can break all corporate and friendship rules by going back to Sarah and kiss her while moving his fingers through her lush hair and then grab her¡­


    And just like that Nathan has to stop because his pants have grown uncomfortably tight. At least if he hasn¡¯t managed to take his mind off the gutter by the time he reaches Gwahin¡¯s glade, there is still the option to take a dip in her frozen pond.


    All thoughts leave his mind when he reaches the clearing.


    ¡°The time is almost upon us. You need to prepare¡±


    It is now late afternoon and Gwahin¡¯s voice reaches across the clearing from her tree. The quiescent of winter has been replaced with quiet tension, and the flow is waxing slowly, but surely.


    Roughly in the middle is a grey circle, roughly five feet across. Nathan walks to it and the grey resolves into a light dusting of ash on dead ground. Gwahin is sitting on her heel in front of her tree, her back to him.


    ¡°Ash? I thought you didn¡¯t not like fire."


    "I do not, but humans do and this comes from your fireplace. Hear me, Nathan Mordred Turner. In the short time we have spent together I have learned to know you just well enough to attempt this. You have proven to me that adults of your species can work alongside Yol without having to dominate, or even understand them, yet you clearly see the dangers posed by true monsters like the Varog. This is why I am giving you a live weapon: a Makka, a Yol secret. I trust you and I extend this favor to you, with the hope that you do not turn it against me but against the things that threaten us all. Please, do not disappoint me."


    "Gwahin¡­"


    "You will not speak. Now. At the edge of the circle, there is an obsidian knife and a piece of aspen. Remove your gloves, shoes, and socks and take them. Good. Now enter the circle. Close your eyes and focus.¡±Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.


    The air inside of the circle makes Nathan shiver through his heavy coat. It¡¯s not just chilly, there is something ominous about it and the black knife in his hand does nothing to alleviate his fear because he has a good idea who he is going to use it on.


    ¡°Feel the wood, its grain and its shape and call to it¡±


    Nathan falls into a familiar trance, feeling energy pool around him. The usual flow surges, bolstered by the forest¡¯s entire aura. The aspen is hot in his hand, linked through affinity to a forest far away. The deeper he goes, the more he realizes the stick is bound to a whole copse, all their trees different yet the same. They share their root network like a single organism. The copse is asleep at this time of the year and its answer is sluggish. The usual feeling of life he gets is merged with that of death and renewal, yet this death is neither violent nor horrible, it is just a fact. A part of the whole. Slowly, Nathan calls to it and feels life push back from everywhere to what he holds in his hand. The wood starts pulsating and the heat increases until it answers the beat of his own heart. In his mind images and feelings gather, forming a question.


    Purpose?


    The flow waxes and wanes in echo to his heartbeat with an intensity that is almost painful. The obsidian and firewood of his aura mirror the ash below his feet and the knife in his hand.


    Purpose?


    What is the purpose of a weapon but to kill? No, this is an abstract concept. Nathan needs to think in term of emotions, of intent.


    Nathan stands in front of the warehouse¡¯s door, holding Gwahin¡¯s spear in a death grip. Sarah is inside and needs help. He opens the door and goes in. Nathan throws himself at the Stalker while Seren recoils. He is hit. There is pain in his shoulder but it does not matter, he will jump again, he will jump until he wins. Seren charges back into the fray with grim resolve.


    Stand.


    He is at the shooting range, he pulls the trigger, recoil makes his hand move backward and a hole appears in the target¡¯s center. Seren¡¯s stabbing wound liquefies the Stalker¡¯ flesh. The acorns blow up, the death flowers spread before his eyes and the sound deafens him. He is eight, the sword his mother made in his hand. He hits the wooden post before she can come back and scold him. He stares in fascination as the sharp blade cuts wood and ropes clean.


    Fight.


    The Stalker falls on the thorn grenade, the blast shredding his body. Pieces of him are falling in a grisly rain. Seren stabs the Varog in the head,a ruined husk that already stinks. He grips the car¡¯s wheel and averts his eyes from the flattened road kill. His dog is in her dog bed, eyes open yet unseeing. His dad is¡­.


    ¡°No human! You cannot stop!¡±


    His dad is on the ground, his face hidden by the corner of the wall. A black pool of blood circles the top of his body in a grotesque halo.


    Kill.


    The aspen in his hand is burning him, the pain is excruciating but he cannot move. The flow in the grove is a thunderous storm, threatening to rip him apart in a thousand pieces.


    Purpose accepted.


    Nathan slashes his hand guided by instinct and the light red of his blood and dark crimson of the twilight sips in the wood. The ritual reaches its zenith. The flow rushes is through his mind to his hand. Nathan holds on to his sanity like a falling man to a hold, desperate and frantic. That¡¯s it he¡¯s going to buy it here and there. The flow rushes in never stopping, never relenting. He has been here an hour, a week, an eternity, his arm is gone, there is just his mind and a nasty looking pike that goes on forever.


    The ritual stops.


    Nathan collapses on the ground and retches, the pain evaporates almost instantly.


    In his hand, steaming, is a Yol spear. His spear. The red twilight casts a strange light on the weapon. It is as tall as a man and not completely straight, with a strange reddish tone. The shaft is smooth save for a sort of handle in the middle. The tip is the most surprising part of the weapon. It is extremely dark, and tendrils twirl around it in a strange pattern, so black they shine. Nathan takes a closer look at the extremity.


    It is sharper than anything.


    The certainty of it wars with his reason. How can he know this for a fact? He tests it with the fat of his thumb.


    He meant to just press it against the tip but fails. There is no resistance as the dark end slices through his flesh. Not only is the weapon sharper that a syringe, it also drinks blood.


    Normal sensations return to Nathan and the first and most important one is that his feet and hands are naked and it¡¯s getting really cold.


    While he pulls his boots, Gwahin is emptying one of her flasks down her gullet.


    ¡°You ok there Gwahin?"


    "That was¡­ That was perfectly executed. I am a genius, a natural talent. You! You did well. I am simply the best. I¡­ I created a, a red Makka! For a human. A visionary is what I am. So! You have to¡­ You have to lend me your couch¡­ and I need a drink."


    Nathan barely has time to reach her before she collapses. He almost checks for a pulse. Do Yol even have a pulse? Nathan puts his fingers against her (theoretical) jugular then gives up.


    Gwahin is snoring.


    She will be fine.


    Nathan goes through the most basic steps of what Gwahin calls the war dance. The spear is light and warm in his hand and makes him feel relaxed. He could die tomorrow but it all feels distant, as if it did not really matter. Stab, turn, stab, parry, counter, step back and stab. The dance is minimalistic, it has no wasted movement and all steps take the entire body to move in a precise fashion. The movements are relaxing and what is even more relaxing is the silence. Gwahin is asleep, tucked in his couch under a mountain of cover. She woke up just long enough to empty a glass of brandy and a bowl of meat. Parry. Stab. Stab. Move forward then stab. Thankfully this does not require too much strength or Nathan would not perform well. If Gwahin knew that when he was a kid he did not want to be the knight but the fool she would laugh for a solid hour. Swinging sword is beyond him, but he could juggle them. Stab, move back, stab, move left. Stay mobile. In balance. At least he used to be able to. The spear hums and pulses to the rhythm of his heart. He is working up a nice sweat and it feels good. Nathan moves faster, but not too fast. No need to botch it. Swipe, move back, move up and stab. Stay balanced, stay focused, move smoothly.


    He doesn¡¯t know how much time passes before he feels eyes on him. Sarah is on the house¡¯s steps dressed in an elegant long coat and sips tea from a steaming cup. She looks amused.


    Nathan twirls the spear around in a show off gesture.


    ¡°Like what you see?"


    "My what a nice spear you have here Nate, can I touch it?¡±


    Nathan will not be outdone is his own damn house. Does Sarah think she knows lewd retorts? Hah!


    ¡°Yeah the shaft is really smooth but the tip fells nice too."


    "It sure looks like it hasn¡¯t been used in a while.¡±


    Ouch.


    ¡°Yeah but as you can see my technique is intact"


    "Yeah, you must practice a lot by yourself, how sad.¡±


    Double ouch. Alright, this is not going according to plan, time to be more direct.


    ¡°I just need a good partner.¡±


    Nathan would go on but Sarah¡¯s lips are warm on his own. She tastes like tea and berries. Her hair is as full and silky as he had imagined under his caress. Sarah goes straight to the point. Really straight. There is a small voice at the back of his head that insists this is something he should not do, that Sarah is a friend, and that she¡¯s vulnerable. Then her hand grabs his ass, slides forward around his body and the tip of her fingers catch his belt buckle. Ok.


    ¡°We should take this inside.¡±


    Much later, Nathan wakes up to the sound of his front door ringing. He considers getting the gun but Varogs would not ring the bell. He quickly dresses and heads down.


    Nathan opens his front door and thinks for a second he is getting double vision. There are two Martins at the door. They use the opportunity to take in his disheveled looks and healthy flush and the second Martin gives a knowing smile.


    ¡°We interrupting?¡±


    A figure comes out from behind Martin number 2. It takes a few moments for him to recognize Seren. Now that he is not in imminent danger of being eaten alive and that half her face is not covered in dried blood, it is obvious to see that Seren is striking. Her face is sharp and aristocratic and her pale grey eyes make her look cold, the impression is only barely softened by plump lips. She is not conventionally pretty, as she has a kind of cold beauty he associates with statues, but she is attractive. They see each other and she smiles sadly and suddenly it feels as if the sun had risen. Smiling changes her face from arctic to luminous. He cannot help but feel himself mirroring it.


    ¡°Hey Seren. You look much better. Come in, come in!¡±


    The first Martin passes him by. He wears a sensible long brown coat and a light white turtleneck over trousers and shoes that can be used for running. He looks all prim and proper, you could present him to your grandma and you saw him on the street, you would know instantly that he carries a badge and will help you if you are lost. The second is the evil twin.


    ¡°Oh where are my manners. This is my brother, Michael¡±


    An actual evil twin.


    Michael is wearing a leather jacket and cargo pants and a baseball cap barely contains messy red curls. If you saw him in the street you would start wondering how you could get home without a phone or wallet. If Martin is the good cop, this one is the wild dog. Where Martin strides, Michael stalks, where Martin looms, Michael lounges, where Martin assesses you, he judges you, when Michael does he checks you for weapon then switch to something else. Possibly an ambush. He has a perpetual sardonic smile on his lips that never reaches his eyes.


    They come in and turn left into his imposing living room. Michael whistles at the weird collection of chairs and questionable design choices while Seren just drops a heavy bag on a couch and crashes in it.


    ¡°I have guest rooms ready I¡¯ll show you to them afterward.¡±


    She just nods and rubs her eyes.


    Michael jumps in.


    ¡°So you are Nathan right? Awesome. Are we killing anything tonight?¡±


    ¡°Uuuuh I hope not?¡±


    ¡°Oh goodie. Then I¡¯ll just unpack a few things and set a basic perimeter.¡±


    ¡° Uuuuh yeah.¡±

 2.15 Dawn of War

    The 6 AM alarm rings with the noise level of a Challenger shuttle taking off, tempting Nathan into grabbing his seventh alarm this year and propel it across the room in the hope that it collides with something super hard, hopefully a hydraulic press. Unfortunately the noise comes from someone else¡¯s cellphone.


    ¡°Rise and shine pretty boy.¡±


    Nathan¡¯s expensive alarm soon emits sounds of waves crashing on rock. His bedroom gradually lightens in an illusory dawn.


    The light does not reach the corners.


    And yet, despite the darkness of winter, and his situation, he smiles.


    There is something about waking up next to Sara. Ok it¡¯s not the romance of the year, they would be both fired if someone found out and the threat of kidnapping is a heavy burden on their minds. Still, the white light falls on her slender body tangled in his sheets , revealing here a soft shoulder, there the curve of a hip. A messy waterfall of hair the color of midnight runs down her pillow and covers most of her back. He leans close enough to let it tickle his nose. Jasmine and vanilla over silk.


    She feels him moving and turns around. Chocolate eyes and a mischievous smile meet his own. She blocks an errand hand diving under the cover.


    ¡°Nuh huh, we have a long day ahead.¡±


    Nathan grumbles and jumps out of bed thinking to himself that monsters or not, at least there are mornings that are definitely better than others.


    Nathan¡¯s first floor is barely recognizable. His living room¡¯s dining table has a crude map of the property on it, escape routes included. A laptop displays images captured from small cameras set up on all reasonable access points and movement detectors are linked to an alarm system ¡°in case they show up early¡±. Nathan is not completely sure it would work on Varogs but it seems that it made the good detective happy. His trust is in Gwahin¡¯s promise of protection and in running very fast.


    ¡°Hey¡±


    ¡°Good morning Seren¡±.


    Seren looks ready. Her white blond hair are held in a tight ponytail. Her face is focused, if tired. She is wearing heavy trousers and rangers, though her top is covered by a comfortable looking hoodie. It looks a good size too large and was probably stolen from a boyfriend


    There is something wrong with Seren. She should look much happier than when he rescued her. Well, when they rescued each other really, and yet she doesn¡¯t. Cleaner, healthier, less fierce yes. No concussion. It¡¯s her eyes.


    They say eyes are the mirrors of the soul. Seren¡¯s has taken an extended vacation. Her gaze skims over reality without stopping on anything long enough to show any trace of concern. She is alone with her thoughts, in a dark place. Nathan would bet a month¡¯s salary that if eaters were to crash through the door this instant she would just sigh and look vaguely annoyed. It¡¯s none of his business really, except that he needs her fully awake and kicking. Time for some low level manipulation.


    ¡°You ok Seren?¡±


    ¡°¡­ Uh? Yes.¡±


    ¡°Do you want some breakfast?¡±


    ¡°¡­ Hum. Not really.¡±


    ¡°Do you want a shot of vodka?¡±


    ¡°¡­¡­¡­¡±


    ¡°¡­¡­¡­¡­¡±


    ¡°Are you asking because I¡¯m half Russian?¡±


    ¡°No I¡¯m asking because you look like you need it. You¡¯re half Russian?¡±


    ¡°You thought Nechayeva was Korean?¡±


    Seren¡¯s reptilian brain woke up. Nice. Now to reach the cortex.


    ¡°How about we sit down and have some food before the brothers arrive. How about some nice French toast with Marple syrup? The good stuff.¡±The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.


    Nathan displays his nice, nice smile. Here. Completely harmless.


    ¡°I.. Suppose. Yes. I should eat. French toasts sound really good actually.¡±


    Cortex reached. Nobody in their right mind would refuse French toasts soaked with genuine maple syrup. If they do they¡¯re probably worse than a Varog anyway.


    An alarm rings. Nathan walks to a monitor and gets a glance at a passing Humvee. All good.


    ¡°it¡¯s ok!¡± He yells, and Sarah¡¯s rushed feet stop in the middle of the stairs.


    ¡°Oh good then I¡¯m going to dry my hair¡±


    When did she even bring a hair dryer? Nathan could swear that as long as a woman stays anywhere near his place for a night, hair pins and make-up would spontaneously pop out of thin air for a month. And they would clog his shower.


    Nathan sighs then steps out to welcome the twins.


    The gray colored monstrosity roars its way in the clearing and reverses before stopping a few inches away from the wooden stairs leading to his main entrace with barely enough room to open the car¡¯s back door. The twins jump out. Michael smiles and winks.


    ¡°Is that your car?¡± Nathan points at the monstrosity. The Humvee is painted a neutral gray instead of the expected camouflage, but it feels like someone put a clown nose on a lion. The thing is clearly military surplus.


    ¡°I¡¯m terribly sorry about your dick Michael.


    "If you think I¡¯m compensating right now wait till you see what I brought.¡±


    True to his words, Michael opens the back and Nathan whistles. There is enough there to start a small war. Nathan wonders where he got it.


    Martin starts unloading with a grim face while Michael proudly lists the contents: body armors, weapon names that mean nothing to Nathan, explosives.


    ¡°Wait. Explosives?


    Nathan looks speculatively at the heavy secured container in his hands.


    ¡°Oh I forgot to ask. How much do you value your front yard?"


    "Not as much as I value my life."


    Michael suddenly takes a serious air.


    "Excellent! I should probably tell you that storing those boxes together violates OSHA regulations."


    "That¡¯s totally fine, I¡¯m sure we¡¯ll violate many more laws before all of this is over."


    Michael nods wisely as if Nathan had said something brilliant while Martin looks like he would very much like to hit his head against the closest wall.


    After they¡¯re done unloading they gather in the living room. The delicious smell of French toasts caress his nostrils like a seductive lover with promises of luscious amounts of marple syrup. Sarah is in the kitchen working her magic. Nathan realizes with a pang that he had said he would cook. He hopes this will be the only commitment he fails today.


    ¡°Hum thanks for taking over.¡±


    ¡°Your time is better spent carrying heavy stuff around and mine is better spent making those. ¡°


    She turns around with a scold.


    "Your toasts are too soggy anyway. Go, the others are waiting."


    Nathan stomps away to the living room grumbling about how his toasts are not bad and that nobody complained before and some people like soggy anyway, so there.


    The group has gathered around the old oak table and what a group it is. On his left Martin sits upright with a scowl on his face. He even brought notes. Michael lounges with a sardonic smile right next to him. Opposite them Seren reclines on his most comfortable chair wrapped in her black hoodie. It has seen better days. Come to think of it most of her wardrobe has seen better days. The table is already laid and the sweet aroma of fresh coffee improves his mood. If not for the weapon this would look like a b&b for neurotic people.


    ¡°Alright everyone¡­¡±


    Just then a whiff of life and growth spreads across the room. Toothy emerges from his tea pot with a stretch and a yawn.


    ¡°Well now that¡¯s a surprise.¡±


    Seren¡¯s glare turns to delight when the Sylvan lands on her hand and the twins stare at him wondering if he finally lost his marbles, both of them seeing nothing. That leaves Gwahin free to prepare her grand entrance.


    She actually looks good. Gone is the stunted creature, in her stead is a lithe huntress with eyes of molten gold, still too small to look truly impressive, but Nathan suspects the whole ¡°I¡¯m not human¡± effect will be good enough to make an impact.


    Gwahin uses the distraction and her natural abilities to stand unnoticed atop one of his chairs (with muddy feet for sure), then gives him a playful smirk. To his surprise she has not only brought her own weapon, a wicked looking bow, but also a quiver of arrows and what appears to be pearl earrings


    Time to play the game.


    ¡°Gwahin, so kind of you to join us.¡±


    To Nathan¡¯s guilty satisfaction, everyone recoils in surprise and shouts erupt along the line of ¡°what the fuck?!¡±. Seren¡¯s surprise seems the greatest of all. Gwahin herself surveys his three guests with a grim expression. Only the glint of her eyes betrays her amusement.


    ¡°What a sorry lot. You look like you could not take down a one legged skunk, much less Varogs.¡±


    She sighs.


    ¡°Mortal, it appears that you need my help."


    "Does this mean you will fight with us?"


    Gwahin pretends to look pained.


    "Aaaah mortal, what a waste it would be to have you die so soon."


    She dramatically brings her hand to her chest.


    "Although as my host you should not invite danger upon yourself while I am in your care, I cannot let you die unaided. I have taken measures, and will help you. This once!"


    "Wow thanks that is unexpected. Hum. Everyone, meet Gwahin she is a ¡°Yol¡±.¡±


    Nathan catches Michael discreetly pinching himself. Martin just looks like he swallowed a whole lemon. Nobody asks what a Yol is.


    ¡°Oh hi Gwahin, I thought I heard you. I made extra and here is the syrup.¡±


    Gwahin¡¯s ominous air is immediately ruined by a look of pure gluttony at the sight of the steamy stack and the tension in the room eases somewhat. Everyone sits and start digging in regardless of species. Ah the magic of maple syrup. Nathan looks around the room. Six determined people. Six people who have all faced death at least once before. Weapon. Explosives.


    They can do this.


    ¡°I assume you have a plan?¡±


    Nathan smiles and nods to Martin.


    I do, and to summarize it: it''s a trap

 2.16 The calm before the storm

    Nathan opens the flask and takes a swig of Gwahin¡¯s herbal tea. Martin scowls from the driver seat. Looking at him, you would think Nathan is chugging opium laced booze. Speaking of which he should ask tree girl if there are any side effects to the concoction, although, knowing her she would just smile mysteriously and say something along the line of ¡°if you stop drinking it you might be dead in a week.¡±


    The truth is that Nathan is about to blank. His vision is starting to tunnel, his extremities are starting to shake and lose feeling, a telltale sign.


    Of course the draught helps, so does his limited training and the fact that the act if weaving is enough. There is no need for results, he just needs to keep at it. As Gwahin puts it ¡°you weave like a small one eats soup. Most of it ends up on the ground¡±. If Varogs have been able to track him before, the juicy trail he leaves now will be impossible to miss.


    So he has kept a tiny trickle of power into the flower pot on his lap. The smallest he could manage. Now a tiny green bud pushes valiantly up as a symbol of his ability to actually make something happen. You don¡¯t even need a spyglass to see it. Take that Gwahin.


    The downside of this is that he needs to keep at it until they reach his home and he is not sure he can make it.


    Martin clears his throat, his voice is forced.


    ¡°I checked your background.¡±


    Nathan¡¯s voice cuts the background noise like a sword, sharp and cold.


    ¡°Did you now?¡±


    Martin steals another glance. His face is calculating, gauging him.


    ¡°It made no sense what you said in the range¡¯s parking lot. You were talking like someone who should be a firefighter or a solider or something. Or works with charities on his free time. But you don¡¯t¡±


    Silence.


    ¡°I¡¯m thinking, is that because your father killed himself? That you are trying to save people now?¡±


    Silence. Martin would not meet his eyes. He is licking his lips nervously.


    Cold rage spreads over Nathan¡¯s mind, surging through him in a chill wave and devouring every other emotion.


    Breathe in, breathe out. The anger recedes and settles in a ball in his chest. He used to be able to control himself better, make every slight slide with a smile, but no longer. His anger pulsates with a life of its own, fueled by the outrage born of Martin¡¯s action. He can tolerate the disgust over magic and himself, he can tolerate the occasional sneer at ¡°civilian behavior¡±, as if pulling over drunk drivers helped with killing cannibalistic horrors. But this? He had opened his home to him, Martin had eaten his food, it should mean something, it should¡­


    See some people are like that, they feel like they could have done something, seen it coming.


    Martin steals another look at his face. Whatever he sees makes him stop


    ¡°Don¡¯t take it the wrong way, I just, I don¡¯t know, I need to understand the people I work with. There is always a goal, I just don¡¯t see it with you.¡±


    Anger pushes for control and Nathan forces the vicious smile away from his village. The anger asks for retribution. If not violence then at least let¡¯s make him feel like shit. Ask him if it¡¯s ok to dig up someone¡¯s personal tragedy because he needs to understand, ask him if this is the best timing he could find, question his empathy and his morality and watch his composure crumble. Make yourself the victim and gnaw at his confidence as a proterctor of the people. Make him bend.


    No.


    Nathan reasserts himself. Anger serves, the mind leads. Nagging and throwing barbs like a pissed off spouse is a luxury he cannot afford, yet Martin crossed the line and he needs to know it.


    ¡°I think that you don¡¯t understand how this works. We are not friends, we are allies. I do not owe you answers. You don¡¯t need to understand me or know me to kill monsters with me, and you should not have done that behind my back. You overstepped.¡±


    Martin gives a single nod and returns his full focus to driving. He looks a bit pale.


    Nathan waits for empathy to kick in. It doesn¡¯t. Instead he realizes that he is no longer close to blanking.


    The flow going to the bud has not changed in intensity, instead, his focus meant that it took much less strength to keep the flow going, and he knew where this was coming from.


    Anger.


    Gwahin had told him that strong emotions would affect his ability to weave. Looks like Martin¡¯s timing was good after all.


    The ball in his chest dissolves, sated for now but not gone.


    Seren


    Seren distractedly scratches a burr in Nathan¡¯s deck¡¯s paint. Of course she has plenty of available entertainment, like checking her sword¡¯s edge for the sixth time, reading the same paragraph from a borrowed copy of ¡°Hyperion¡± for the fourth time and biting her nails.


    Waiting can be tedious. Waiting for an exam or a duel to start can be stressful. Waiting when you don¡¯t know when the enemy is coming and if you even have a fighting chance when they do, now that is hard. Seren comforts herself by remembering that it is still not as hard as waiting in a hospital room for the doctor to come and tell you wether or not your loved one survived. At least here she can do something.


    The others don¡¯t know that the trap will work but she does. The paths are getting darker and more complex as the minutes go by, she does not focus on them too much now though, she will need all her strength. Nathan suggested that changing paths too much would cause ¡°blanking¡±, whatever that is.


    ¡°Contact.¡±


    Sarah¡¯s voice breaks the nervous silence. Seren changes her posture instinctively. Nathan stops lounging against the wall. He looks a bit ridiculous in his mix of modern camo suit, chainmail and a nasty looking spear. It¡¯s almost¡­.geeky. What has the world come to.


    ¡°Hum, it¡¯s not them. It¡¯s a blond woman.¡±This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.


    ¡°Wait, what? Michael, stand by.¡±


    ¡°Roger that my dude.¡±


    A beat-up Sedan slowly drives up the clearing. She can see a mop of blond hair and recognizes the woman first.


    ¡°Well well well, we have a medic now.¡±


    ¡°Nathan who is she?¡±


    ¡°That would be Patience, the nurse from the file.¡±


    ¡°I thought she wasn¡¯t coming.¡±


    ¡°I thought that as well.¡±


    ¡°H-H-Hello! I have come to help!¡±


    Patience is clutching a first aid kit as if her life depended on it. Her voice is strangely distressed and the stuttering only makes it, well, cuter. Her posture is tense and fearful. Seren thinks about the determined woman who slapped her back in that factory. She cannot reconcile the two.


    After three seconds of awakward silence, Michael saves the day.


    ¡°Somebody fucking pinch me.


    Nathan, 1PM.


    It¡¯s not stress, not really. Something is off. He can feel it like an itch under his skin, a thought under his scalp. Something that will not go away. It¡¯s there, at the periphery of his mind. They have plans, they have weapon, they have com and now they even have a nurse. They are well prepared, well, as well prepared as they could be under the circumstances, but something is not quite right.


    So Nathan does what he thinks is best, he stops focusing on the problem. He lets his hand run across the smooth wood, looks left and right. Probably going to have to cut that branch at some point. He hopes Patience¡¯s car is parked properly, wouldn¡¯t want to cause it undue damage given the state of the thing. It¡¯s a very old Ford model. It was probably wiser to pick that rather than the family car, if she intends to ¡­


    Wait that¡¯s it.


    Intent.


    Nathan can¡¯t believe he was this stupid. Gwahin was pretty clear, what matters in magic is intent. He is not the best fighter in the group, hell he is probably the worst of the four. What he brings to the table is his knowledge of magic through Gwahin¡¯s painful lesson, and he almost fucked up already.


    Their intent is to kill the Varog to stop them from eating people but he messed up when he presented that. It¡¯s an overarching goal. An ultimate goal meant to be achieved after a campaign, not just this single battle and here was the catch. The world is usually complex, and different shades of gray, and this has changed Nathan¡¯s outlook, given him a strategic goal. What he needs now is a certain purity of purpose, to reduce the world to himself and the task in front of him. There is, in fact, a simple goal.


    To defend one¡¯s home.


    Essentially the Varogs are coming here to kill his friends and him, to finish what they started with the girls, with their friends, with Martin¡¯s mentor. They came here not like conquerors but like raiders and locusts to take, consume and leave.


    No.


    This is his place, his family¡¯s refuge. This is the gathering , where his family sometimes crash for a while where he acts as host. It is his.


    There is a pulse as his aura exerts itself for the second time this day, except this time it comes from outside. There is a current, a trend, something to follow. Nathan half suspects that the weave itself likes to flow in a certain way, half sentient but capricious like a cat. This time the weave is on his side, he merely has to go with the flow.


    He feels his stance change, lets his feet carry him to his door. His hand lift the Yol spear forward and it stops a finger away from the wood. The world holds its breath. Nathan realizes he is at a crossroad. The Varogs will come no matter what, but he has a chance to change the paradigm, here and now.


    ¡°They are coming for us.¡±


    Only Seren is close to him right now, and her eyes dart left and right, not just looking at him but also at the spear and at the door.


    ¡°They are coming for us.


    He only exerts a minimum of consciousness and lets his hand flow, wielding the spear like a brush. The weave guides him left and right, through gentle curves and pointed angle, until he steps back to admire his handiwork.


    On the wooden frame, a sigil burns like cinder, a beacon and a warning.


    Home.


    ¡°¡­And we are ready.¡±


    Seren¡¯s smile is the coldest thing in the clearing.


    ¡°Everyone I got a car coming¡±.


    Sarah¡¯s voice echoes in his ear. Just in time then.


    ¡°except huh, it¡¯s not them.¡±


    Wait what?


    ¡°You sure?¡±


    ¡°Yah, I¡¯m definitely sure. You got to see this.¡±


    Thirty seconds later on Nathan¡¯s desert and as yet unexploded front yard sits a car. A red convertible to be precise, with its hood opened despite the gray sky and chilly weather.


    ¡°Who the fuck is this schmuck. And is that¡­ A Kid?!¡±


    The driver slowly steps out of the car with his hand in the air. He is wearing an impeccably tailored coat the color of burnished brass over a navy suit. He has unnaturally pale amber eyes, copper hair that reaches his neck and perfectly matches the coat. Nathan has to admit that he is incredibly handsome in a pop star kind of way. The man could probably fill stadiums. Nathan cannot help but notice however, that his most defining feature remains a pair of horns.


    They grow out of his temples up and backward, encircling his head in a golden crown. As Nathan focuses, he tastes an aura of cinnamon and overheated metal, a presence as compelling as Gwahin herself.


    The man stops a few feet from the wooden landing and flashes his perfect teeth.


    ¡°I think you can lower your arms now, Agrias dear.¡±


    The teen in the passenger seat lowers a white board with ¡°Not Cannibals¡± written on it in tall black letters and underlines thrice. She is short with blue eyes and blond hair in a pixie haircut. She currently looks like the living embodiment of boredom.


    Everyone is speechless. Nathan can feel the barest movement from Toothy, safely tucked in his scarf.


    ¡°Ah where are my manners? Allow me to introduce myself. Jin Mirra, of the Mirra and Z house of trade, purveyor of all things magical. At your service!¡±


    His voice is smooth as butter. His words flow with the practiced ease of the politician, or the expert salesman, and an undeniable charisma. Nathan instantly dislikes him.


    ¡° As a newly minted practitioner, you now have access to the full range of our extraordinary services! Congratulations! Please accept our welcoming gift to new customers. Agrias, the package please.¡±


    The young girl steps out of the car with a bundle in her arms and steps closer, and Nathan can hardly believe he took her for a human. Sure she looks the part, but there is something sinuous and reptilian in the way she walks and as their eye meet he shivers. There is an emptiness in them that speaks of death, but where Varogs are the decay of the putrid marsh, that one is the absence of life. The surface of the moon could not possibly be colder.


    Seren takes a step back and mutters while all of Nathan¡¯s hair stand on end. Sensing the mood, the GQ model doubling as a salesperson takes the bundle from the monster teen¡¯s arms.


    She looks up and smiles.


    All her teeth are square and flat. An illusory sound caresses Nathan¡¯s psyche. Breaking bones and squelched flesh.


    ¡°This is a short sword made of true steel. And now I believe I have done everything I could here, and since we are on a schedule¡­¡±


    The man drops the bundle on the stairs and deposits what looks like a business card on the wooden ramp. He raises a wrist and consults a massive gold watch.


    ¡°We are just on time for our next customer. And with this, I bid you a good day. Let¡¯s go Agrias.¡±


    The man gives a flawless bow, turns around smartly and steps into the car.


    Agrias lingers. Her eyes go from left to right, stopping on Michael and Martin¡¯s hiding place, Nathan himself, then Seren, then up to where he assumes Sarah and Patience are. Through the wall. Gwahin herself is not there since she unilaterally decided she would be in charge of making sure nobody would attack them from the sides or back.


    ¡°Fun times ahead.¡±


    Her voice is exactly what you would expect from a fifteen year old girl if a bit raspy. It makes it way worse.


    ¡°Agrias, please.¡±


    The¡­ Thing, walks back to the car and, without a word, they leave.


    The sound of the muscle car¡¯s engine fades in the distance. The wind blows. A few leaves fall on the grass.


    Sarah breaks the spell.


    ¡°What the, and I cannot stress this enough, actual fuck?!¡±


    "I can¡¯t believe we have been in this business for less than a month and laying low and still we get salesperson knocking on our doors."


    "Stop joking Nathan how did they find us? Because if they can so do others."


    Seren comments thoughtfully.


    "Both of them were incredibly dangerous.We''re lucky they were not hostile."


    Nathan steps down the deck and grabs the package. It doesn¡¯t have any aura.


    "Can I have that?"


    Seren sounds unusually eager. He throws her the bundle and grabs the business card for himself. It is well designed and super fancy. The company logo is a Z letter in a black circle, with the Z crossing it on both ends. There is a phone number but no website.


    Huh.


    Nathan reflects on the implications of this meeting. Gwahin makes it sound like magic has been dormant for a long time and magical creatures remain a rarity, however the existence of an actual trading house implies that there is a market. Others like him. The United States have a magic population. Huh. Maybe there are voodoo witches in Louisiana or covens around New York that gather every full moon in posh hotels for massive orgies where they¡­


    ¡°Mmmh guys?¡±


    Sarah¡¯s voice is shaking.


    ¡°It¡¯s them¡±.

 2.17 The Crucible

    The screen of Nathan¡¯s phone shows not one, but three vans parked on the road with one in his driveway so as to block the access. Shapes come out from every door, looking human still. There is just a small problem. They were expecting two, they had planned for five. There are currently eight of those monsters gathering just outside of his fucking lawn. Nathan considers calling the cops and getting some much needed reinforcement. Maybe not the cops, the SWAT, or better, the national guard. A gloved hands moves past his shoulder to make the camera zoom on the group. A wisp of blonde hair brushes his arm. Right. It¡¯s too late to sissy out.


    The grainy image shows six figures going up the path to the clearing, all dirty men wearing grungy clothes, slouching  and stalking forward with the ease of a gang on its home turf.  At their head, a massive bald man in a brown trench coat over a wife beater and slightly behind, a sneaky type wearing a leather vest over a naked torso. Seren practically hisses at the sight.


    ¡°This one is mine.¡±


    Nathan knows there is something he is missing, with the familiarity of someone who loses his key twice per year.


    Ah yes.


    ¡°Guys be advised we are missing two.¡±


    Michael answers: ¡°Oh yeah, they are probably cutting through the forest.¡±


    Martin¡¯s voice cuts coldly.


    ¡° No change to the plan, just assume one suspect on each side when you move.¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t see them¡­¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s ok Sarah we expected as much.¡±


    A tense silence falls on the clearing. Twenty seconds, maybe, then they will be in sight. Seventeen. Fifteen now. Nathan¡¯s heart thumps against his chest and his breath comes loud. Please let this just be over with. Less than ten seconds. Time to see if you can ambush ambush predators. Only a few seconds now.


    The leaders comes in sight, then the rest only a few meters behind. They enter the clearing.


    They are here.


    The head Varog turns his eyes to Nathan. Even fifty meters away, he can feel the sadistic smile, the vile urge behind and the absolute self-confidence. This is not the confused stalker nor the monster in the warehouse, this is an entire entity entirely. A leader.  A pack alpha.


    He steps forward.


    NOW screams Michael.


    Nathan and Seren hit the deck in a fragment of a second. Ears blocked, moth open.


    The world erupts in light and sound, a deafening bang  that rocks the clearing and an instant later, a shockwave that he feels in his very bones. Debris fall near the entrance as Nathan looks and a cloud finally reaches them, smothering his nose with the stench of ashes, powder and charred flesh. He raises his head over the wood enclosure to get a better look.


    The clearing itself is intact, the path, not so much. Even from here he can see a handful of trees shredded to mere stumps and foliage drifting down from everywhere in shades of brown and red, and then slowly the smoke disperses to reveal a shape.


    ¡°It¡¯s our turn now¡±


    Seren¡¯s voice cuts the silence like a blade. She steps down with light steps and unsheathes her own sword.


    There are two of them left. The big guy¡¯s clothes have been completely shredded but his chest and arms are intact and covered by a weird serpentine tattoo that¡¯s completely black. Behind his the sneaky guy in a leather jacket stumbles forward, his left arm missing at the elbow. Nathan stops at twenty meters and  takes aim, shoots the big one in the chest. Not sure if it hits but it got his attention. The big one stumbles on unsteady feet and starts to grow.


    It feels as if someone unveils a painting, or a fog is suddenly lifted. One moment, the world is somewhat mundane and the next an abomination half again the size of a tall man lumbers towards him.


    Nathan holsters his gun, not that it will help, and rush left into the forest while Seren angles right to engage the sneaky bastard.


    Nathan runs at a brisk pace on the only path on this side of his property¡¯s forest, smoothly diving under branches and jumping above roots. His house is to his back and the road to his right. There is little reason for him to come here since Gwahin¡¯s tree is on the other side. Behind him, something crashes. The pack leader is following him, all according to plan. The noise of crushed vegetation to his right is not exactly to plan, because it means one of the missing two is almost on him. Right. Divide and conquer. He increases his pace until he comes to a small clearing.


    This is just an break in the canopy made by the fall of a few old trees. Waist high ferns briars hug  the blackening stumps. Time is short. It will do.


    The noise of the flanking Varog has stopped. Nathan positions himself with his back to a stump, facing the path to the house.


    The flanking Varog takes the bait.


    Nathan does not think, he turns around and sets the Makka against the ground with the tip pointing upward.


    Sometimes it is easier to find what is missing rather than find what is there, for example, there is no feeling of life at his back. As far as his senses are concerned, the weave does not exist there. The second thing to remember is that Varog will always try to jump on you given the chance.


    A form against the background, four limbs, caught mid pounce. Nathan moves the spear to find the perfect angle like Gwahin showed him. The Varog is mid flight, cannot change trajectory. It lands.


    Nathan expected to stop the creature, or even impale it, instead there is a repulsive squishy sound. He finds himself staring deep into the eyes of a spiteful face.


    The Varog screams. A putrid breath assaults him and he recoils as the shriek drills into his ears. The creature is frantically grasping at the spear haft, trying to dislodge it from his entrails. Nathan panics, frees one hand and pushes. Stinking grey viscera fall over his hands, his pants, the stench is abominable.  The thing is still screeching, clutching at his sides. Nathan manages to free the Makka spear and looks at his work. The smell, the sight, the adrenaline. Too much all at once. He bends over and heaves, spewing vomit over the steaming gore.


    No, cannot lose it now. Big one coming.


    Nathan wipes his mouth. The Varog is curled in fetal position, whimpering in a strangely human way.


    He should have realized it from  Gwahin¡¯s thorn bomb. Those savage weapon are anathema to the Varog. Is there a lesson about weavings in general? Something to think about later.


    With a last shudder, the creature stops moving. Nathan can now smell his own sweat, the Varog¡¯s shit and an overpowering stench of blood. He remembers another pool of vivid red, a similar smell, but manages to suppress it. There really is no dignity in death.


    Nathan feels warm and feverish. That jacket is too much, too stuffy. He needs more freedom for the hunt. The jacket comes off. He would remove the chainmail as well but there is no time and a little voice insists he will need it.


    Martin¡¯s voice breaks through the numbness.


    ¡° Big one headed your way, if you¡¯re still in the clearing you got fifteen seconds tops¡±


    Sarah¡¯s voice echoes to confirm that he is. He is also already moving. The jacket is thrown under the biggest tree. Nathan jumps up, gloves catching the branches, then shoes. Body close to the trunk. He climbs. The frigid wind dries the sweat from his face, cold while his body burns with stress and adrenaline. Soon. Now.


    The alpha enters the clearing. Only scraps of clothes cling to his naked body. The flesh is grey and flabby around the belly, the rest is taunt skin over muscles like steel wire. The black swirls of his tattoo cover the entire front of him and sends Nathan¡¯s mind reeling when he looks for too long. The thing must be half again as tall as him, even as hunched as he is.


    The alpha steps into the clearing, stomping around the stumps with barely a glance for his fallen kin. When he turns, Nathan can see that the tattoos extend to the middle of his shoulders. His back is exposed and angry red welts mar it here and there. He sniffs the air in disgusting snorts.


    Nathan  focuses and feels the weave around here. He is not there. The weave flows around and through him, just like Gwahin showed him. Gradually, his breath slows, his mind becomes calm and smooth. There is just him and the prey. The bait has been set. He does not need to move. He just needs to be patient. The weave now flows lazily as if he did not exist but he can feel something, a hint of excitement, like a prone wolf with one eye opened. The prey steps forward, it has seen the bait, it has smelled it. It is a big prey, and dangerous, but that is fine. He just needs to be patient. The wind rises. It is cold. No matter. The prey takes one more step, then wait. That is also fine. He can wait longer. The prey is a raider, it knows time is not on its side. Time is on the side of the hunter. The prey looks up but does not see. How can it, when the weave itself hides the hunter? How can it, when it has entered the hunter¡¯s territory. The prey leans forward to sniff the bait.If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    Now.


    Nathan jumps down.


    But Nathan is no Yol, he is just a normal adult with a month of training.


    The branch he used cracks under the stress of his weight.


    The Varog hears it, looks up in surprise.


    It raises its hand, too slow.


    The Makka spear impacts the Varog¡¯s forehead with enough power to almost rip it off his hands. Nathan can hear something crack, he can also see the black tattoos swirling at the impact point.


    The spear fails to break past. It starts sliding


    Nathan has failed.


    The Varog howls in pain and backhands him by reflex. Nathan his caught midriff and sent flying through the air. He is airborne long enough to utter a curse before his side impacts with a trunk. Nathan falls on the ground. His spear is gone. Pain steals his breath and the creature looks at him with anger in its eyes. It steps forward.


    Seren, three minutes before.


    Seren likes beautiful words. When she was just starting to read, her mom offered her a book of rare and precious words and it was full of treasures. She had learned that the scent of early rain on a dry earth is called Petrichor. She had also learnt the word serendipity, would say it again and again, letting the syllables roll on her tongue like good chocolate. She still likes the word because her name is part of it. The meaning is also good. Serendipity means lucky happenstance, like her first meeting with Milo or the fact that fate has placed his murderer in front of her while she has a sword and a really serious need to let off some aggression.


    The Killer rushes forward screaming, its right arm still missing. Seren steps back and to the side and throws a semicircular parry. The blade catches the monster¡¯s wrist and bites deep.  Seren continues the movement, slicing flesh and drawing blood then she thrusts. The Varog jumps back once, then twice when she follows up. It¡¯s insanely agile. Instead of following she draws back and resumes an ¡°En garde¡± stance.


    The Varog starts circling her. Less than a second later two bullets catch it in the chest, one in the head. It causes some damage but not as much as bullets hitting flesh should. The Varog recoils and shakes its head. More holes appear on its chest, oozing black blood.


    Suddenly the paths turn black in a straight line. Seren does not think, she jumps left. The Varog lurches forward like a rocket, trying to grab her. Its claws clip her shoulder without breaking through her vest. She recovers her balance and strikes even as it looks at its empty hands, dumbfounded.


    Her blade finds its target in the armpit and withdraws immediately, the movement perfect. Once more she retreats and more bullets hit. The Killer turns and maneuvers to place her in the bullet¡¯s  path. Michael¡¯s voice reaches her through her earplugs ¡°Repositioning¡±. It¡¯s alright she got this now. The paths are wide and clear, the probabilities all speeding towards the end.


    She is in control.


    ¡°I like the way you look now.¡±


    The Killer looks at her, uncomprehending. Seren attacks, using her instinct, her experience and the hints of the paths to drive the Killer back. He tries to push her back, to counter but the truesteel blade bites in his biceps, cuts a deep furrow in his chest, skewers his hand. Both arms now dangle uselessly. The killer looks with surprise at the blood dripping from his body. His wounds stubbornly refuse to close.


    Seren feels something dark growing in her. A cruel smirk draws her mouth tight. Milo¡¯s death. Her life going to hell. Her fear of the monsters. Her fear of the future. All gone now.


    ¡°When I¡¯m done with you bitch, you¡¯ll show me some respect.¡±


    The Killer looks at her in the eyes and there is a hint of recognition in his vicious eyes.


    ¡°You¡­¡±


    It steps back, surprise on its face.


    ¡°Remember¡±


    A step forward, a feint, the Killer steps back and fall on his knee. Seren steps forward with her sword held high. She screams and swings with her whole body. The last inch of the blade ravages the Killer from top right to bottom left in a wrathful strike, she withdraws it as the Killer falls on his other knee and place the tip against its fanged mouth.


    ¡°I own you¡±.


    Seren pushes the sword to the hilt.


    Michael walks in as she cleans the blade. If anything, he is smiling even wider.


    ¡°Nice one.¡±


    ¡°Thanks. I saw you shoot him in the balls, what were you aiming at?¡±


    ¡°His balls¡±


    Sarah interrupts them, she sounds frantic.


    ¡°Ho shit. Guys, Nate needs help, hurry!¡±


    Now that things are calm on their end again, they can hear the whip-like sound of Martin¡¯s silenced rifle.


    They start running.


    Nathan.


    Nathan¡¯s head hit the ground and he reminds himself to thank Michael for the helmets. Definitely saved him a few neurons here.  He moves back to one knee and stops. Apparently chain mail does not protect ribs from blunt force trauma. Ouch. The alpha sprints forward with one hand still clutching his forehead and punches down, trying to flatten him.


    And misses.


    Nathan rolls and jumps to his feet and start running while the alpha stares uncomprehendingly at the ground. That¡¯s when Martin starts shooting at his back.


    To his surprise, the alpha roars in pain. The carved bullets must be working better than he hoped.


    The alpha turns around with surprising speed and slashes him. Once again Nathan tries to dodge and only partially succeeds. He blocks with his forearms and claws the size of kitchen knives rake the mail without breaking it. He is sent flying.


    That¡¯s going to hurt like a bitch come morning.


    Nathan kneels and pushes his spear up, his arms shaking from the effort.


    The Varog is standing at the edge of the clearing. A few bullets flatten uselessly against his chest then Martin¡¯s gun falls silent. He now towers over them like some primal god out of a horror story. His yellow fangs promise crushed bones and sucked marrow, his naked body so alien and grotesque that the weave shifts and flows around it in patterns that hurt Nathans¡¯ already stressed consciousness. The monster is claiming the land and there is nothing he can do to stop him. His best weapon, a Makka made to kill his kind did not even dent the tattoo. Bullets did not even slow him down, even shot in his back, and the alpha is simply too fast and powerful for Nathan to fight, much less outmaneuver.


    ¡°Michael and Seren are on their way, stall if you can.¡±


    Stall, right.


    Nathan is tired. The stress, the casting, and probably the instinctual response that allowed him to misdirect the Varog have left him deeply exhausted. The frigid air is chilling him to the core and the sheen of sweat born from his earlier fright has already evaporated. He is running on fumes.


    That said his home is here, his allies are at his back and they have already accomplished the impossible.


    ¡°There are too many of you hunters¡±


    Against all odds or expectations, the alpha¡¯s voice crosses the clearing like a cold wave. It would be easier, Nathan thinks, if it were gravelly, ugly, inhuman. Instead it would not have been out of place in a courtroom. It is pleasant, articulate, even a bit aristocratic, and that is a big, big mistake.


    Nathan may not be able to weave for shit, but that has never been his strength. His strength has always been the ability to sense and to adapt, and right now the alpha metaphorically shot itself in the foot, and Nathan suspects he knows why.  The Varog had him. He could have overwhelmed him then beat him into a pulp but he didn¡¯t. Two things have saved Nathan, first the rules of engagement: for whatever reason, the Varogs want him alive. The second is more obvious when you think about it. Varogs are drawn from parts of the population that have limited empathy, and that means psychopaths. It makes sense that a leader among them would be a serial killer. Serial killers are not about killing, they are about the rush they get from it.


    Nathan picks himself from the ground and takes a step forward. Immediately, the weave stabilizes in a fragile state of balance. The fight had been a one-sided punishment, now it is a challenge yet to be accepted. It will not be enough, but it will help. Nathan does not speak. Let the Varog be the verbose villain.


    ¡°Since there are so many of you and you killed some of us, I simply can¡¯t take all of you alive.


    ¡°Talking to yourself?¡±


    The Varog lowers his eyes to Nathan and he realizes that the monster had indeed been talking to himself.


    Sarah¡¯s voice is barely a sigh: ¡°Seren will be here in fifteen seconds. Hold on.¡±


    ¡°He will ask why and he will know if I have lied.¡± The Varog speaks absently, barely paying attention. A claw mechanically scratches the edge of a tattoo.


    ¡°Is that the one who gave you the tattoo?¡±


    The Varog¡¯s eyes glint dangerously.


    ¡°I have said too much, we are not to speak to you little hunters. Besides, the main attraction is here.¡±


    Seren bursts into the opening . If the sight of the looming alpha distresses her, it does not show. In fact she looks downright murderous as she slows down gracefully, bloody sword in her hand. Steel eyes sweep the clearing, barely slowing over the alpha and the other Varog¡¯s corpse.


    ¡°Michael and I are on your right. I will keep a lookout for the last monster while he provides covering fire. You guys do your thing.¡±


    ¡°Stay close¡±. Says Seren.


    ¡°The tattoo makes the front of his body impervious to harm.¡±


    ¡°Got it.¡±


    We walk forward together and the fight is on.


    Seren¡¯s wisdom becomes obvious when the Varog jumps on her and misses her by a hair, then strikes in reverse to evade being stabbed in the back. In two seconds and three exchanges Nathan realizes that while Seren holds her own, he is hopelessly outclassed. Only his chainmail and Seren¡¯s flawless timing prevents him from being gutted here and there. Meanwhile, the alpha moves and strikes with a skill that hints at fighting experience, using his forearms to block. The alpha apparently notes his uselessness and their lack of teamwork and start working on Seren.


    This won¡¯t do.


    Nathan stops attacking and maneuvers to step in his back, the alpha pushes Seren back with a thrust and windmills behind himself to strike Nathan. Repetitive practice finally kicks in and Nathan lets himself fall forward under the blow before rushing forward.


    It works.


    The alpha recoils in surprise and manages to block the spear with a hand.


    There is a short moment of triumph when the Makka drills deep in the creature¡¯s palm, a rush of pleasure as the hunter draws blood, and Nathan thinks for himself ¡°Hah. Gotcha!¡±, then the alpha roars with eardrum-shattering intensity and front kicks him.


    Nathan is airborne, his entire chest numbed by the impact, trees, leaves, and droplets of blood join in a stunning kaleidoscope until hits the ground head first, rolls several times and stops against a stump.


    The world is brown and black.


    The world is made of bark and, apparently, dirt. And things that sound like the crack of a whip.


    No, remember the range, that¡¯s a gun going off.


    Nathan turns around to see the alpha punch Seren in the head. She blocks with both arms but the punch just rams them into her face and there she goes.


    The alpha gets kind of blurry. No, focus. The alpha is holding its twisted hand, looks like there is more skin that actual flesh and bones. Its murderous eyes land on him.


    The alpha strides towards him with a furious growl, bent on revenge. Nathan has got nothing. He is spent, and hurt. A searing pain shoots from his sternum and steals his breath, it is taking all he has to bring oxygen to his deprived lungs.


    Another sharp pain hits his wrist and the alpha¡¯s clawed foot misses his head by an inch, landing on the stump instead. Toothy. Toothy just woke up and saved his life, biting deep to draw enough power to misdirect.


    The alpha stumbles and kneels to reveal the sword embedded deep within his back: the true steel sword. So that¡¯s why Seren was disarmed.


    The alpha stands back up as meaty sounds hint at bullets impacting his back. With a last grunt, the monster finally falls.


    Directly on top of him.


    Nathan¡¯s last thought is of the monster¡¯s cold, floppy and bloody tongue landing on his cheek.


    ¡°Seriously?!¡±

 2.18 Swatted like a fly

    ¡°You¡¯ve reached Mirrah and Z, Leila speaking how may I help you?¡±


    ¡°Yes, good evening. I was wondering if you have cleaning services. It¡¯s kind of urgent.¡±


    May I ask who I¡¯m speaking to?


    Ah yeah sorry this is Nathan Turner.


    Yes, knight Turner, your account has been created today, now what is it you need cleaned sir?


    Monster corpses and Claymore mine damage, mostly. Oh, and a pair of rental vans.


    ¡­


    ¡­


    May I inquire as to the location?


    Nathan hangs up and sits back down in the living room couch. Martin hangs back, carrying a reinforced laptop case.


    ¡°So?¡±


    ¡°I got some kind of posh souding lady, says the cleaners will be there at nightfall and that I should under no circumstances be near to, or look at the concerned area. So Gwahin should be fine.¡±


    The Yol looks smug, digging into gristles with her unstrung bow slung over her shoulder. Her bark and leaf outfit is much closer to armor than clothes today. Her new amber colored earrings shine softly in the lamp light. She still refuses to say where she got them from. This is the first item of clothing he has ever seen her wear.


    ¡°Silly human, of course I will be fine. Why! You should worry about yourself¡±


    Awfully confident for someone who basically killed one Varog then went home. She probably shot him in the back too. Nathan decides to magnanimously let it slide this time, especially since he is currently immobilized and Gwahin has been known to hide thorns in cushions as a ¡°prank¡±.


    ¡°That should be fine but remember it¡¯s only a matter of time before Chauham comes knocking, better be prepared¡±.


    At the mention of the name, Nathan notices Seren straighten up. The angry look on her face is somewhat lessened by the cold bag she is still dutifully sticking to her forehead. Nathan can already tell the bump will be spectacular but so far he is the only one who both lost consciousness and actually required stitches. Maybe it¡¯s the Universe¡¯s way of telling him he should retire and let the younger generations pick up the fight.


    Nathan catches himself staring at Seren¡¯s peach shaped butt and averts his eyes. Future generations his ass, this fight is squarely on them. Soon, the twins leave in their privatized armored transport, and Patience drives Seren North in her beat up Sedan. Sarah is already gone to see her son. Only Gwahin remains, looking at him with a strange expression.


    ¡°You need proper rest. Also! Don¡¯t forget to take your medicine.¡±


    ¡°I won¡¯t, trust me, especially the pain killers. By the way, are you sure Toothy is ok?¡±


    ¡°Yes mortal, yes, your horribly named Sylvian companion is fine. You will just have to make sure that he can sleep well by keeping his novelty teapot warm. ¡°


    There is a brief pause while Gwahin looks contemplative.


    ¡°I cannot believe I just said that.


    ¡°I bet you feel like your life is getting out of control huh?¡±


    Nathan only half listens while Gwahin starts lecturing him on proper hospitality, Makka handling, proper fighting, storing enough meat jerky and frozen desserts for winter  and how when she was young she would never have left a Varog even get close to her, yadda yadda yadda, let me just rest my eyes for a second.


    Someone is going to die, Nathan is going to gouge out their eyes with a rusty spoon then strangle them with their own innards if they don¡¯t stop shaking him awake right the fuck now and oh, it¡¯s Gwahin.


    ¡°I¡¯m listening, I¡¯m listening!¡±


    Gwahin looks dubious at best.


    ¡°You were talking about how stupid I was to jump on the Varog instead of letting myself fall.¡±


    The Yol¡¯s shit-eating grin only grows larger.


    ¡°That was six hours ago, it is now one in the morning.¡±


    ¡°Then why are you waking me, and why do you look so excited?!¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s just like on TV! We are getting SWATed!¡±


    ¡­Fuck.


    Someone is going to die. Nathan is going to flay them alive with sandpaper and wear their intestines like a flowery Hawaii garland.


    ¡°Mr Turner?¡±


    ¡°Mmrggnfl¡±


    ¡°Mr Turner!¡±


    Nathan looks up to see the face of an Eastern looking man. Looks familiar.


    ¡°Right, Mr Turner, you know what I want to know.¡±


    Nathan can tell that the guy¡¯s nerves are frayed around the edges. He also knows that the guy wants something. What was it? Ah yes, information. He wants to know something.


    ¡°You¡¯re ugly¡±


    With this vital piece of information dutifully shared, Nathan considers his mission accomplished and goes back to his well earned sleep.


    Someone is going to¡­ Oh, what is that smell? Nathan grunts and lifts his head. On the cheap table of the bland interrogation room in front of him stands coffee. Not the abominable sock juice in plastic cup, but a genuine, freshly ground Arabica in a white mug with a stylized pig on it. The aroma wafting from it is almost enough to make him forget that he feels absolutely horrible. Then Nathan lifts his head again, and again, and again to finally rest on the bringer of caffeinated delights. Waking up next to Sarah was really nice, waking up to a Nordic mountain of a man¡­ Not so much.


    ¡°Hum. Hi.¡±


    Erkisen points a sausaged sized finger at the steaming mug and speaks with a rumbling voice.¡±


    ¡°Coffee.¡±


    Ah, a man of few words, just what Nathan needs at the moment. He finally grabs the mug and takes a sip.


    An explosion of savor hits him, smooth body and bitter aftertaste, not too acid. The coffee rolls on his tongue and wakefulness spreads through his mind with a speed more Pavlovian  than chemical.


    Erkisen does not seem to want to talk at the moment so Nathan takes stock. First thing, besides the coffee he feels that he¡¯s been trampled by a herd of buffalos and then left to dry on a spiky rock bed for several days with his head held in a vise by what he assumes is a team of hardened Spanish inquisitors . Muscle pain, wound pain, hangover and the beginning of a fever rolled in one nifty package. The interrogation room in which he is still sitting is not well heated either so he is freezing on top of the rest.  Why does everything have to be so damn painful anyway, why can¡¯t it be a small pop up window in your field of view that says ¡°Critical damage to starboard testicle¡± or something.


    While still sipping, Nathan gets a good look at Eriksen. This guy is truly intimidating. His face is intimidating, his bulging muscles are intimidating. The fact that he is probably by himself the third highest mountain in the whole county is intimidating, and finally his posture speaks of leashed violence. Nathan is used to smarmy dipshits so Chauham is not too hard to handle but Eriksen is different, and he can¡¯t enjoy the coffee with this dude just¡­ Looming menacingly. Nathan cracks first.Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.


    ¡°What do you want?¡±


    ¡°Chauham wants you on board but won¡¯t get it. Know your type. ¡°


    Nathan lifts an eyebrow despite himself. So Chauham wants him as a recruit, not a prisoner?


    ¡°I don¡¯t want you on board. Not good follower, think yourself too smart. Still want you as ally. ¡±


    And as an afterthought:


    ¡°No offense.¡±


    To be fair Eriksen is correct. Being a good follower is just as important as being a good leader and he cannot see himself following Chauham without trying to sabotage the arrogant ass every step of the way. If there are three people or more there is always politics, and this is what it¡¯s about here and now.


    Eriksen still hasn¡¯t made a point so Nathan waits.


    Eriksen takes a Ziploc bag out of a shirt pocket. He holds the item with two fingers and lets it hang in front of Nathan¡¯s eyes. Inside, there are two very small metal balls looking slightly melted.


    ¡°This is what you get after a M18A1 Claymore mine detonates. Hundreds of the little fuckers everywhere.¡±


    Eriksen¡¯s stare drills into Nathan¡¯s soul.


    ¡°Found those on the road just outside your house, could look for point of origin. Could have given it to agent Chauham but I didn¡¯t . You owe me. You do your thing, but don¡¯t burn bridges.¡±


    Nathan nods.


    Eriksen leaves without a word, an exit ruined when Nathan stops him because he needs to go to the closet, all because of a totally natural and physiological reaction to drinking a lot of coffee in the morning. Afterward, Chauham shows up in an impeccable charcoal suit looking completely refreshed, the prick.


    The first thing Chauham does is to shake Nathan¡¯s hand and point toward his family size side-kick.


    ¡°Good morning Mr Turner, I am agent Chauham and this is my partner, agent Eriksen. We met at the hospital remember?¡±


    By the time Nathan finally understand what Chauham has done, it¡¯s already too late. The agent is opening a red colored file with practiced moves. There is something ritualistic about it.


    ¡°Tell you what, you look like the silent type so I¡¯ll talk and then we will see where that leads us. First things first, I am leading a newly created task force charged with identifying and dealing with, and I quote, ¡°any and all occurrences that can be attributed to phenomena or entities separate from modern science¡±. You have to admire our government¡¯s unwillingness to utter the term supernatural, but hey, here we are. ¡°


    Chauham¡¯s dark brown eyes peer at every detail on Nathan¡¯s face with an intensity that scares him. He thought he was savvy, world wise, that he could handle disgruntled coworkers and customers with ease. This is different. The agent in front of him is steering the conversation like a maestro by doing the only thing that could convince Nathan: he is actually making sense.


    ¡°What this means is that if there is anything that goes bump in the night or that is just too unconventional, my team and I will receive a notification. Now, you might think that it¡¯s the proverbial needle in the haystack and that most stuff we would look into turn out to be mundane. You would be wrong.¡±


    Chauham leans forward.


    ¡°See the reason why the people above have actually managed to come to an agreement is that there is a lot of stuff going bump in the night recently, and I think it¡¯s getting worse.


    Now you might want to think that in their infinite wisdom, the Departments of Justice and Homeland Security cooperated fully to provide us with a full range of experts, full support of local enforcement and a liaison with the department of Defense to face this completely new and unknown threat. Sadly, they didn¡¯t. Instead we are treated like the dumping ground for out of favor agents and before you ask, no, I did not piss off anyone important, I volunteered.¡±


    Chauham speaks with a strength that borders on fanaticism. He may still be gauging Nathan¡¯s reactions but he truly believes what he is saying.


    ¡°So we are understaffed, our people are not the most motivated and that¡¯s not counting those who still don¡¯t believe in monsters, but that¡¯s not the worst.¡±


    Chauham is now close enough that Nathan could reach him, instead he schools his face to show indifference, a task that¡¯s getting harder by the second.¡±


    ¡°No the worst is that all our experts, our resources, cryptozoologists and magical theory researchers are useless.  None of the hypothesis we have work in reality. On October the 15<sup>th</sup> we lost almost an entire team to monsters like the one you, miss Nechayeva and officer Henkel killed. Our operatives had silver bullets, crosses, blades of cold iron. None of it mattered; we still took casualties including the hostages. I was getting desperate and then a few days later I receive a new report.¡±


    Chauham sits back and slaps the table with a smile that reaches his eyes, making him friendly and approachable.


    ¡°Holy shit I could not believe my own eyes, two monsters dispatched with no casualties by an after sell manager and a business school student. Hostages saved!¡±


    Nathan wants to add that Henkel was here too but manages to keep his trap shut.


    ¡°Aaaand it turns out that the after sales manager, who had no martial training or fighting experience whatsoever, had a close encounter with one of the monsters before and survived.


    Now, I am not exactly sure how you manage to know all you know. You could be part of a secret organization ¡­ But I doubt it, they would have sent a fighter not a scholar.¡±


    Wait what? Ah yes Chauham is still reading his reactions.


    ¡°So probably not that, regardless you know how to face them. I mean, a chainmail really? I still can¡¯t quite believe it.¡±


    Chauham laughs softly before leaning forward again.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know if king Arthur is your ancestor or if it¡¯s instinct or dumb luck and honestly I don¡¯t care that much, what I want is to know how you know all of this. Now I could try and force you to tell us everything but I won¡¯t , that would be counter-productive, instead I¡¯m asking nicely.¡±


    Chauham takes out two pictures from his massive file. The first is an Asian teen with a round face and an infectious smile. Her skin is sun kissed and her black hair messy, giving her a goofy appearance. The second photo is an old white man with blue eyes and short white hair. His face is clean shaven and sharp, making him look a bit like Julius Caesar.


    ¡° We found those two among a fleet of abandoned rental vans. They remember being abducted but don¡¯t remember being rescued.¡±


    Nathan feels his brows furrow. A fleet? There were just three of them, and he had asked the cleaners to take care of those. He should have checked the vans himself or at least have Seren do it for him. Exhaustion had made him sloppy, or is there something going on he doesn¡¯t know about?


    ¡°I need the person who saved five hostages successfully. I need the person who stopped the kidnappers three times in a row. I need the person who brought a chainmail to a gun fight and won. I think it¡¯s you. You may feel proud about what you have done so far and you should be, but there is a lot more going all around the place and we can do something about it. I can provide you with intel, weapon, training, and the full support of the United States government. I just need you to work with me. We can do this together. Are you with me?¡±


    Meanwhile, Nathan is thinking about Aaron Horowitz.


    In the time when his dad was alive, they had gone to several fairs and events related to the European middle ages as a family. One of his favorite people and a regular fixture was Hebus the wise. Hebus the wise, real name Aaron Morowitz, was a man of great stature and great appetite, and a great, wizard-like beard. He had made a lasting impression on the young and impressionable Nathan by virtue of his sheer charisma. He would walk around talking to people and ¡°Guessing¡± things about them and their personalities with the uncanny accuracy of the consummate con artist, but never accepted anything in return but heartfelt compliments. There were three notable things about Aaron Horowitz. First, Aaron was a retired lawyer at the tender age of fifty-one by virtue of being really, really good at his job and quite rich as a result. Secondly, he was married to a woman who looked like the love child of Monica Belluci and Salma Hayek. She would walk around dressed as a gypsy, giving young men palm readings and lifelong sexual fantasies. Thirdly, and the source of the two other points, Aaron Morowitz was insanely good at reading and manipulating people


    During one of their conversations Aaron had revealed some basic tricks. For example, he would ask someone to remember something at the beginning of the conversation so he would know what they look like when they search their memories as opposed to when they lie. That was not a perfect method but it helped. Other tricks included mentioning an unacceptable option, like Chauham forcing Nathat to talk, and then the next option, like cooperation between them, looks comparatively more attractive. There were many, many more tricks but Nathan did not have the skill or inclination to learn them. Suffice to say that a glimpse at Aaron¡¯s abilities has allowed Nathan to reach the fateful conclusion: Chauham is good. He knows what to say, and how to say it to get what he wants, but this time he will not get it.


    It is not a question of making sense or not, from a purely pragmatic perspective, Chauham is right.


    It is not even about him being a manipulative asshole. Nathan is a professional and can work with assholes, even for them. He has done it before. It¡¯s ultimately about what Gwahin said. Magic is a story waiting to be written, an ancient tale that suffers no compromise and no hypocrisy. Magic is not suited for the modern world and by corollary; the modern world is not suited for magic. Nathan made a claim and cannot afford to go back on it and wait for someone else to make the decisions for him, else the weave will punish him.  He is to be his own boss, the master of his domain and he cannot afford to follow someone he neither likes nor respects.


    Nathan also cannot trust people with Gwahin¡¯s existence, not yet. The temptation to study a live specimen would be too strong for some. No, he cannot do it. This is a path he has to walk, if not on his own, at least by his own choices.


    ¡°I am not sure who you think I am, but I must decline.¡±


    Nathan makes sure he looks suitably contrite but Chauham has murder in his eyes.


    ¡°Very well.¡±


    Chauham takes out a small recorder, probably for show, and starts in a chilling voice.


    Interview with Nathan Mordred Turner¡­


    The following hours are a gruesome game with one side showing in turn anger, patience and comprehension, with the other side applying Hebus the wise¡¯s most valuable lawyer advice: when in police custody, shut the fuck up.


    ¡°After I leave this door, I can no longer help you¡±


    ¡°Lawyer¡±


    ¡°I am on the side of saving people, which side are you on?¡±


    ¡°Laaawyer¡±


    ¡°You lost your father when you were young, don¡¯t you feel empathy for all those kids who will grow up without a parent because you want to play the lone ranger?¡±


    ¡°Lawyer lawyer lawyer¡±


    That last one was kind of a dick move.


    After a good two hours of that, Chauham finally throws the towel. One look from Eriksen is enough to remind Nathan of his promise. Swallowing his pride, he turns to the spotless agent.


    ¡°If you want my opinion, you can always call me.¡±


    Wow, that was lame. Chauham¡¯s gaze turns calculating while  Eriksen just shakes his head. Cringe. Oh well. Nathan checks his hoodie pockets for a business card before realizing Chauham already knows his number and has tapped it besides.


    Way to make an exit.

 2.19 The low point.

    On the way out Nathan stretches his arms and realizes he still feels like shit, and is late for work besides. Between catching a ride back home, getting changed and driving back, it is more than ten thirty when he reaches his office, cursing himself for not taking a day off. Nathan called in advance to say he had been ¡°Unavoidably detained¡±, not that it matters. Upon arriving, he realizes his credentials have been cancelled and is escorted by an apologetic Lucas to a meeting with the store leader and the head of HR. He is informed that due to recent events including agents questioning employees, his presence was deemed ¡°disruptive¡± and his contract terminated, albeit with a very generous bonus. Nathan is then escorted out with his belonging and left on the parking lot.


    During the whole thing he may have uttered three words.


    Exhausted and nauseous, he drives home to a parked car. A tall woman with brown hair and icy blue eyes stands at the top of the entry stairs like a temple guardian, face twisted in displeasure. Her dark gray coat does little to hide the fact that she is lean and rather muscular.


    ¡°Mordred Nathan Turner!¡±


    ¡°Hey Mom.¡±


    ¡°Why do you never pick up your phone?! That is so annoying, young people have access to this amazing piece of technology and instead of being available, you spend your time watching kitten on the internet!¡±


    ¡°Sorry Mom I was driving.¡±


    ¡°Never mind that then, do you know that I can¡¯t enter the house? What¡¯s wrong with your door and! Oh sweety what happened!¡±


    ¡°I just got fired.¡±


    A small ¡°o¡± of surprise cuts all signs of impatience and his Mom¡¯s expression turns sympathetic.


    ¡°You¡¯re kidding.¡±


    ¡°Alas. No.¡±


    ¡°What happened?¡±


    Just then Nathan¡¯s discomfort turns to pain, the physical blow of it threatening to overwhelm him.


    ¡°Later¡± he says.


    Nathan does not remember climbing the stairs to his bedroom and collapsing in his bed.


    First comes the febrile heat and aching bones, then the headache and dry mouth. Nathan stretches his hands outside of the cover and into the merciless cold. It is dark. A light shines downstairs through the opened door but the house is as silent as an old wooden house can be.


    Nathan stands up and piles on clothes including his comfiest hoodie. The mirror in the bathroom shows a tired man with deep pockets under his eyes and in dire needs of a shave. Nathan gets down the stairs to find out what woke him up: his kitchen is the scene a classic Mexican standoff.


    Ladies and gentlemen! On his right Diana Turner, of undetermined age since it¡¯s not polite to mention that a lady is fifty three, definitely undisclosed weight, PhD in medieval studies with a focus on lost technologies. Hobby: blacksmithing. On his right, Gwahin of the leaves, somewhere over three centuries old, weighting two hundred pounds of assorted groceries, at least. Hobbies: snide remarks and veiled threats.


    Truly a fight for the ages.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know who, or what, you are but I suggest you get the fuck out of my house.¡±


    Gwahin speaks without even looking at Nathan.


    ¡°Dear host, every time I think you have displayed the full extent of your stupidity you manage to go and reveal some more.¡±


    ¡°Mom, drop the steak knife, Gwahin please be slightly more direct in you insults I¡¯m not in the mood.¡±


    While his mom looks at the knife in her hand with a frown, Gwahin takes what he recognizes as the ¡°patronizing¡± posture. She insists it¡¯s called her ¡°teaching¡± posture but Nathan knows better.


    ¡°Are you feeling in discomfort at the moment?¡±


    Nathan looks down at his messy clothes and remember the horror show the mirror showed him.


    ¡°How can you tell?¡±


    ¡°Do not play coy mortal you are exhausting my patience. Yesterday you claimed this house as yours and less than a day afterward, you did not resist when rival forces came to take you.


    "Resisting the cops would have been a very stupid mistake."


    "I think so too. That said, the weave does not think. You claimed a land, and then you did not defend it. Your only saving grace is that they left without claiming or sacking it, and now I find that you allowed someone else in, someone who just claimed that home as hers."


    "First thing first that¡¯s mom. My casa e her casa."


    "You are not listening."


    "Hum¡­"


    Nathan and Gwahin turn to Diana who has had enough of trying to pinch herself awake.


    "Or maybe you¡¯re feeling discomfort because you are eating trash? I opened your pantry and you know what I found? Carbs and proteins and that¡¯s it. Even the cans of peeled tomato are approaching the expiration date."


    "Seriously there is a nature spirit right in front of you and your first concern is my eating habits?"


    "Mortal I am not a spirit or a dryad I am Yol, stop using your pitiful terms to refer to my higher existence."If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    "Higher existence? Lady you¡¯re dressed like my garden¡¯s fence, talk back to me when you¡¯re at least dressed like my curtains."


    Nathan can feel the beginning of a headache.


    "Ust-Nach! Watch your words or I shall wear your skin instead."


    "ENOUGH! Gwahin stop threatening mom. Mom, I invited Gwahin here, she¡¯s been incredibly useful over the past few weeks.."


    "Well¡­ Alright¡­ But I wonder what your cousins will say about that."


    "They can say what they want it¡¯s my name on the property deed."


    "His mom crosses her arms but says nothing, while Gwahin looks vaguely pleased."


    "So¡­ Anyway¡­ What is going on here exactly?"


    "I¡¯m going to need a pot of tea for that one."


    Nathan goes to grab his brand new set.


    ¡°What happened to the Chinese set did you break it?¡±


    ¡°Huh no it¡¯s being used right now, look just go sit down I¡¯ll explain everything.¡±


    After half an hour of messy explanations and about ten more minutes of incredulous questions , Nathan¡¯s mom is ready for a verdict.


    ¡°Well, this all sounds crazy but¡­ After seeing Gwahin with my own eyes, the only think I can¡¯t believe is that all that junk food is for her."


    Just on cue Gwahin appears from the kitchen and shoves a last fistful of glazed pig jerky in her maw before dramatically informing the room.


    "Weoofffruoiggherfffy."


    Diana blinks and turns to her placid son.


    ¡°I believe she is trying to communicate."


    "She said: we are out of pig jerky."


    Gwahin nods and attempts to put a smile on her bulging cheeks, looking all the while like the world¡¯s deadliest hamster.


    "How can you even tell?"


    "Habit."


    "I think I believe you now. And I still don¡¯t get why can¡¯t you swallow your pride and work for that Mr Chauham, wouldn¡¯t it be better to trade magic for backup and a salary? Not to mention dental."


    "Well why don¡¯t you swallow your pride and work for professor Maretti ?"


    "My life is not at stake son! And don¡¯t you sass me in front of our guest!"


    "Ok this is all well and good, now we can talk about all of this tomorrow, I need a break."


    Nathan goes to his bedroom and fires up his desktop computer. He considers refreshing his resume before laughing softly and firing up a game instead. He picks an old turn based strategy game, giving him ample time to reflect.


    It is actually a boon that he got fired. He gets one year of salary in advance if he accepts the deal, and he would have had to quit anyway. Between the magic messing with his mind and the need to practice he would have run at of time. There probably isn¡¯t such a thing as a part time wizard. Given how the weave works you probably cannot give anything but your full commitment. No, the real issue is income. He has bills and taxes to pay, not to mention the cost of feeding Gwahin.


    On the screen, a squad of WW2 soldiers mows down a group of pike wielding men. Nathan sighs.


    The best solution would be to become a consultant of sorts, only, he cannot rely on just Chauham. If the crafty agent finds out he has Nathan by the financial balls he will end up just as dependant as if he had accepted the offer, minus dental.


    He pauses the game for five minutes to browse his favorite websites. All the online advertisements are for porn and fast food delivery, Ah, Nathan sighs, they know me so well.


    To go back to the topic, perhaps the house of Mirrah and Z need people on the supply side? Perhaps they need help on an ad hoc basis. Perhaps he can convince the Varog-slaying crew to join. He will probably need starting fund for that, and even has an idea where he might get it.


    On the screen, computer controlled Ghandi unleashes the nuclear fires of apocalypse on civilization.


    Nathan considers going to bed but decides against it. Just one last turn then he¡¯ll sleep.


    Nathan opens his eyes to the pale light of winter. He¡¯s feeling much better than the day before, although a bit dehydrated. It is the post job honeymoon, the feeling of not having to go to work anymore. In about two days it will be replaced by the cold awareness that his bank account is an ever smaller safety cushion but for now, it feels amazing.


    Ten minutes later Nathan sits on the living room couch with a cup of coffee, an apple and his last bagel, which he had to hide from Gwahin in a drawer labeled ¡°lettuce¡±. On his lap: a sleepy Bismark, his two phones with seventeen missed calls and more than sixty texts and assorted mails and a cream colored envelope. His mom is out on an errand and Gwahin is probably filing her teeth or something, so he has the house for himself.


    It¡¯s easy enough to sort through the polite messages from former coworkers. Alan, Lucas and the member of his team, sorry, former team are particularly moving. The kind words bolster his mood until he is ready to face the more serious matters.


    ¡°Hey, sorry for the job thing buddy. We should lay low for a while but I will keep an eye open. My brother is moving to Hallows and will assist us. Keep an eye on Seren. ¨CM.¡±


    Laying low sounds fine right now, as for Seren she¡¯s a big girl. Still, better send a message just in case. The next text is from Sarah.


    ¡°Heard you got your ass fired. Well done boss. Will be back in three days. Maybe I can find a way to comfort you.¡±


    Nathan¡¯s mind plunges straight to the gutter and his memory provides helpful flashes of their lovemaking. No, need to calm down. Just think random words. Accordeon. Tundra. Nipples. Arg!


    Nathan shifts uncomfortably, hoping the next messages will provide a distraction from that mole on her lower back that looks like a drop of ink on a the pristine canvass of her perfect skin. And those thighs. Hhnnng. In the end, it is Bismark¡¯s judgemental look that saves him, although to be fair Bismark always looks judgmental.


    There are a few mails from his relatives, and one from Ambrose.


    ¡°Nathan my friend I got a promotion and a transfer, it¡¯s all very hush hush right now but as soon we can let¡¯s catch up, you won¡¯t believe your ears!¡±


    Nathan has a sinking feeling in his stomach and a suspicion that his friend may have been poached.


    The last message is the cream envelope. Nathan turns it around to reveal a wax seal with the now familiar M and Z logo. Why do those people have to be so extra? What¡¯s wrong with Fedex and UPS. Well, whatever. Nathan opens the carefully folded letter to reveal a hand written note. The smell of incense assails his nostrils as Bismark jumps away in disgust. Perfume.


    The black letters striating the paper speak of elegance and inhuman precision.


    ¡°Knight Turner, greetings.


    You will find below your invoice #KNMT0001 for service rendered on November the 19<sup>th</sup>.


    Debit:


    Crime scene cleaning detail USD 11,700


    Express service fee USD 8,000


    Credit:


    Assorted Eater organs USD-2,700


    Tattoo of unknown origin USD -5,000


    TOTAL BALANCE: USD 12,000


    ¡°


    Nathan coughs as tea goes down the wrong way. Twelve fucking grand? On his first day of unemployment? Fuck! And it would probably be a piss poor idea to default on this one particular debt. He remembers the square teeth on Agrias. Maybe it¡¯s standard protocol for the venerable house of Mirrah and Z to show up on the first day with their collector, just in case you get any ideas. What are even the payment terms? Please anything but cash.


    ¡°Our manager and account holder Jin Mirrah has decided to wave the cost as a commercial gesture since this is your first order¡±


    Woooooow. Fucking hell. Saved. What a roller coaster of emotions there. Still the message is clear, if he wants anything from them it will cost him dearly, on the other hand if he can sell them magic¡­


    ¡° Best regards,


    Leila El Filali¡±


    Nathan sends the appropriate replies including a short message to Seren and makes a check list.


    <ul>


    <li>Contact Jin Mirrah, get full range of services, ask if they are looking for something themselves</li>


    <li>Acquire currency using that secret opportunity I just thought of</li>


    <li>Create a magical consulting company</li>


    <li>Make contact with Chauham as a potential client</li>


    <li>Find a way to contact the newly rescued people</li>


    <li>Arrange communication with everyone involved</li>


    <li>Organize group training</li>


    <li>Arrange more personal training with Gwahin</li>


    <li>Get laid</li>


    <li>Survive</li>


    <li>Carrots</li>


    <li>Onions</li>


    <li>Simmer twenty minutes in olive oil¡­</li>


    </ul>


    Nathan realizes he is hungry and sidetracked but anyway, that ought to do it. Might as well get started.

 2.20 The lowest point

    The apartment is a piece of crap with poor insulation and horrible plastic furniture,  but it¡¯s clean, cheap and the paths are clear. The broker¡¯s eyes widen in slight surprise when she tells him it will do but he doesn¡¯t comment.  It takes less than ten minutes to empty the rental car of her meager belongings, then the door slams closed.


    Home, such as it is.


    Seren suspects that she stayed in Ithaca for purely sentimental reasons. Deep inside, she has not lost hope of one day returning to Cornell. Maybe after Chauham finally gets off her case. There is also the fact that there is nowhere else she can go this side of the Pacific. Ah who is she kidding, the truth is that this place has become her home. This is where she met Milo. This is where she met and keeps meeting Yuki.  She has her favorite coffee place as well as her favorite waterfall.  Now that her future is uncertain, she clings to her usual haunts with that much more intensity.


    Seren sits heavily on her bed and winces when her sore arm hits the mattress. The bed¡¯s covers look inviting but what she feels under her hand is coarse and damp. There is no small amount of hypocrisy clinging to the remnants of the past and clamoring for freedom when truly she is taking this risk because she knows that, worst come to worst, Chauham will offer her a job, and if not him, her dad. For a brief instant she considers giving up this joke of a dream, and then her personality reasserts itself. She is trying her best to be free. She sacrificed a lot for this and even though the world has come crashing down around her she will only let go when she has no choice.This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    Just a quick nap first, just to test the bed.


    No. It¡¯s too early and she¡¯s been sleeping too much recently anyway. It¡¯s time to make some long term plans.


    She needs money, and that means getting a job.


    She needs to plan for a new career path.


    Her eyes roam to the foot of her bed. Ah, to hell with this, there are more pressing things.


    Seren opens the sport bag and takes out the sword. She runs her hand on the black scabbard and her fingers brush the handle. It is made of metal circled with some sort of twine and feels good in her hand, almost¡­ Calming.


    She draws the blade and immediately everything feels different.  The house is still here but the paths jump to the front of her perception, still mercifully clear. The blade is the color of steel with a strange bluish tint.


    Why worry about career when the world is inhabited by man eating monsters?


    Can she really want to hide from it and work in an office?


    Can she really afford to?


    More importantly, does she want to?


    Seren takes out a cotton cloth and start cleaning the blade mechanically, and she remembers. The fight. The pain. The victory.


    The victory.


    Nothing has ever come close to this, the feeling of triumph when she had impaled the alpha and known he would die from it. It was not bloodlust, she had not been after pain. Nor had it been revenge. It had been about winning by a breath against such a dominating opponent. For a few seconds Seren had felt a clarity of purpose like nothing she had experienced before. For the first time since Milo¡¯s death she had felt truly alive. It had been liberating, and even now the memory of this moment makes her feel lighter.


    The truesteel blade is sheather back with regret. She may have lost a lot but she also gained something precious: allies.


    Time to make a phone call.

 Arc 3: Incorporation 3.1 A life of crime

    ¡°So huh is this it?¡±


    Nathan turns left to Agrias the deep space monster dressed as a rebellious teen. Sh¡­ She? Let¡¯s go with she, is currently trying to blow a bubble gum. The ominous pink mass grows bigger and bigger like some alien pustule before splattering her face in a goopy mass. There is only silence in the warehouse as she removes the offending layer with a pinched finger. Agrias inspects the unholy mass thoughtfully before shoving it back down her open maw.


    ¡°I would suggest deflating the bubble before it bursts.¡±


    He gets a grunt in answer.


    Twenty more seconds pass in silence and mastication. Seren, on his right is still inspecting the unlikely scene and chooses to remain silent, which suits Nathan just fine, because he is having a sort of contest. It goes like this: Agrias does her creepiest version of a normal act and Nathan stares into her cold gaze like he ran out of fuck five years ago and forgot to restock. They have been at it for the better part of an hour. Agrias doesn¡¯t know it but she doesn¡¯t stand a chance, because Nathan has a vast retail experience he can draw on.


    Finally, she relents.


    ¡°Yes, my sister was supposed to do it but she has been¡­ Unavoidably detained.¡±


    ¡°Twin sister?¡±


    Agrias blinks.


    ¡°How did you know?¡±


    Nathan shrugs. Nathan one, hellspawn abomination born from the frozen depths of the Cocytus: zero. Shrugging makes him look mysterious, and is a more diplomatic answer than¡± I simply could not accept that whatever gave birth to you got fucked twice¡±.


    ¡°Anyway, Katagrias is busy and this is urgent so you do this while I run my own errands.¡± As an afterthought, she twirls some of her hair in what appears to be an attempt to be cute. It sounds like someone trying to clean a blackboard with steel wool. Nathan clenches his teeth.


    Agrias walks past and Nathan rotates around, not to be polite, but because he refuses to show his back to that thing. She stops when she is right next to him, places her hand on his arm.


    ¡°Would you like to go out on a date with me?¡±


    ¡°Sorry, too young¡±, Nathan deadpans. There is a choking sound from Seren.


    Agrias, again, blinks. Nathan two, Lovecraftian entity with titties: zero. Take that, Cthulu.


    The impossible happens, Agrias¡¯ mouth becomes big enough to split her head in two, she tilts backward, and laughs. At least that¡¯s what Nathan assumes she is doing. It sounds like a giant snake with a coughing fit.


    Strangely, this is the least disturbing thing she has done so far and for the first time today, Nathan thinks he got a genuine reaction.


    ¡°Fun times indeed. Do not die!¡±


    And with that she¡¯s gone.


    Nathan turns back around. It is now December the 18<sup>th </sup> 8PM, there have been no signs of Varog activity, he is his own boss and this is their first job. His company, tentatively called Seekers Consulting, is stable considering he is operating out of his house with minimal spending so far. Both Seren and him are dressed for outside and in dark colors. Both of them wear backpacks.


    ¡°Let¡¯s go have a look¡± Seren nods and steps forward.


    They are currently standing in a warehouse in Williamsburg, one of if not the most famous boroughs in Brooklyn. It¡¯s a pleasant place with a great night life and plenty of shops selling cool and unique stuff, all hidden inside renovated warehouses made of red bricks. The hipster infestation that started in the 90s is the cause for its gentrification, and although there are more beards around than at a woodcutter convention, Nathan thinks it¡¯s pretty dope to see so many people walking around dressed with care and purpose. It certainly breaks the monotony.


    The warehouse they are currently standing in has definitely escaped gentrification and for good reason: half of the roof is made of glass and in the center, illuminated by street lights, stands an English cottage.


    This is not the modern structure one might expect from a fancy suburb, but the seventeenth century dwelling that the first settlers would have built back in the early days of the colonization: sturdy and functional. It is also looking quite homey from here, though the bitter cold probably has something to do with it. Nathan half expects some midget to burst out of the door screaming he is going on an adventure. Thankfully the house remains silent as the current owner cannot apparently be joined.


    It is still a bit worrisome that their first job is a burglary.


    ¡°Technically this is repossession."


    " Was I thinking aloud?"


    " No but you¡¯ve had the same scrounged face when you asked Jin and he said the same thing. It¡¯s important Nathan, focus."


    " I am focused."


    The cottage is mostly rectangular, with the wide side facing them, it is also surrounded by a small fence . There is still a bit of room to walk around it so this is what they do. One side has the main entrance and a small garden, while the other has a more austere door, a vegetable patch and a small shed. The walls are made out of a yellow stone that Nathan doesn¡¯t recognize and the windows are small, haphazardly placed and all barred. The thatched roof peaks over the construction like a wizard hat, protecting the house from the absent rain and snow. Even from afar, Nathan can tell there is magic at work.


    ¡°Ok I will begin.¡±


    Nathan opens himself to the weave like Gwahin showed him. It is a strange state, less based on focusing and more on letting go. The feeling he had turns sharper, like a fog lifting or a nose clearing. There is an aura running along the fence that reminds him of trying to stick two opposing magnets together and underlying that something unpleasant. The aura is that of unwashed human, not as overwhelming as rot or rancid sweat but disgusting nonetheless, and something else too: the feeling of movement at the edge of perception.


    Nathan recoils in shock. This is less primal that Gwahin or even Agrias, this is much closer to him and Seren.


    ¡°Well?"Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.


    "There is something on the fence that¡¯s designed to push us away and warn the owner when breached, it was cast by a male human and he¡¯s not like us."


    "How so?"


    "Well, besides the fact I get an unpleasant feeling it feels much more deliberate. When I look at something Gwahin made it¡¯s always grown, but this feels like something that someone built on for a very long time. If I had to choose a comparison it would be like a hand sewn scarf, or a ship made out of matchsticks. Whoever made this must have been weaving for a long time. Longer than us that¡¯s for sure."


    "I see."


    "Is this enough to go on?"


    "We¡¯ll see. Keep in mind that I can only switch three times before I have to rest."


    The Paths are always here. They can be ignored or pushed to the background, but they are never gone. When Seren does not try to change them they become more relaxed, just showing a general level of danger. When she focuses, they will show her what she needs. The paths are animalistic. They respond to her needs for violence and protection, and her need for an escape route, so it should not be too much of a stretch to look for a way in instead of a way out.


    She does not really make an effort to shift it just¡­ Happens. She knows that the paths do not really exist, and that she does not really see them with her eyes, or, for that matter, that they are not exactly ¡°paths¡±. Ah who cares, she shifts them and they sort of retract inside of her and expand again almost instantaneously.


    Get in.


    I need to get in.


    You cheap Hansel and Gretel knock off pile of junk, let me in


    In.


    There.


    One moment, they show her escape routes, ways to safety, the next they encircle the house as if that¡¯s what they had been doing all along. There is a lot of black, and that means the house has defenses, but there is some white as well.


    Seren walks along the fence toward the shed and crouches in front of the wooden boards. It looked nice from afar, but darkness and distance can only do so much to hide the traces of worn and decay. The wood is rotten, and some of it has already started to come off. There is something else too, a rugged line of material stretching horizontally as far as she can see. Rather than touching it with her bare finger and risk magical tetanus or something, Seren takes out her antique smartphone, punches the cracked screen and turns on the light, surely using half of the battery in the process.


    All her amusement evaporates when the flashlight reveals a gruesome spectacle. Teeth. Hundreds of teeth are stuck to the wood in a horrific line. Molars, canines, incisive of all shapes and size. Seren¡¯s fear skyrockets before Nathan thankfully breaks the oppressive silence.


    Those are cat and dog teeth. Shit, let me check something.


    Nathan walks to the fence and shines his own phone at the brown wood. Sure enough, she can see the yellow glint from here. When Nathan returns, he is pale as death.


    ¡°There¡­ There has to be at least a hundred¡­ I want to think he got them from a veterinarian but¡­"


    "It doesn¡¯t feel that way?¡±"


    Nathan just nods. Seren does her best to contain the surging nausea. What kind of complete bottom dwelling sociopath uses pet body parts to protect their home? What¡¯s wrong with using cameras and locks like a regular fucking person? What the fuck.


    ¡°Ah, good find.¡±


    Seren turns to Nathan, relieved that her fear and disgust have been replaced by the now familiar feeling of anger.


    Nathan is pointing at a gap in the line. Humidity must have taken a toll on some planks and there is a gap forming between two of them. It breaks the line of teeth neatly.


    ¡°So we can just break the plank and get in?


    "I don¡¯t think so. If we remove the plank completely it will create a new fracture and the owner will surely be warned. I have another solution though. I think I can widen the gap and then we¡¯ll have to dig."


    "Seriously? Did you bring a shovel?"


    "Hum yes, actually I did.¡±


    Nathan hands her the car keys, and starts to focus, which means it¡¯s up to her to start digging. Why did Mirrah call him knight anyway, what¡¯s gallant about having the lady dig while you¡¯re conveniently busy doing arcane stuff? Seren feels cheated.


    Nathan ignores Seren¡¯s grumbles and tries to refocus on the task at hand. Seriously the woman has three emotions: grumbling, silent contemplation and murder. He can understand that she wants to keep some distance from him, after all he is not associated with pleasant stuff, but there has to be a limit! According to fairy tales damsels in distress are supposed to gush over you, the reality is that the princesses took out swords and covered his lawn in monster blood, looking grim all the while. Urg.


    Moving on.


    Seren did a good job showing the gap to him. Now that he stands in front of it he can tell where the wind is blowing.


    It appears the weave likes commitment. That specific weaving must have been powerful at one point, especially with having killed more animals than a PETA shelter. Now though, the house is abandoned, and its owner has fled. The weave does not like that. The implication is disturbing. On one hand being decisive and sticking to one¡¯s guns is good, on the other hand only morons never change their minds, and only dead men never retreat. Nathan can tell that the weave is already changing his behavior a little bit. Now there is an actual incentive to boast like an opera swordsman and fight like a drunk.


    Wait that¡¯s not it.


    When he had tried to ambush the alpha he had been protected as well. The weave rewards you for acting how you believe you should act.


    Well.


    Nathan is a burglar.


    There, he said it. Nathan is a criminal, a fiend, and a runner of shadows. This measly barrier will not stop him! Onward to thievery!


    Nathan moves forward and places his hands in the hole in the barrier. Power grows outward and flows into his fingers with a speed that he has never been able to match during practice. He pushes outward and towards him and the wood, impossibly, bends.


    Nathan keeps going until he feels rigidity settling back in. The line of teeth can only be stretched so far, apparently, but it does not matter. There is now a hole leading to the inside of the shed big enough for a large dog, though still not big enough for an adult. Nathan decides to stand back up and immediately regrets this decision. Ah yes. The headaches. As an added bonus his fingers feel like they are on fire. Stumbling, Nathan reaches into his coat for the flask of Gwahin¡¯s herbal remedy with the fervor of the alcoholic. The bitter draught slides down his throat, doing absolutely nothing at the moment. Nathan sighs. The only thing that will relieve the headache is a dull, repetitive task.


    Nathan grabs the shovel from Seren¡¯s hands, completely ignoring her bewildered stare.


    ¡°Ah thanks."


    "You¡¯re welcome. I didn¡¯t know you could do that."


    "One of us can see the future and the other one can cheat in a DIY competition. Such is life.¡±


    They remain silent while he works. After only a few minutes, the hole in the ground and in the shed has grown large enough that they can easily crawl though.


    ¡°Ladies first¡±


    Seren casts a suspicious glance then apparently remembers that her power will protect her, so it makes sense that she goes first. Nathan feels insulted. As if he could have an ulterior motive besides staring at her wriggling bottom! Truly this princess is far too suspicious.


    They soon dust their knees and look around. Nathan cannot believe that he compared this place to a hobbit den, or even thought of it as cozy. This place is not coming from a Tolkien book, but from a Grimm legend. The vegetable patch is a derelict of blackened and wizened husks, rot and draught fighting over the few remaining salads. The sight would be even more depressing with more lights. One thing is sure, the place is a dump.


    Seren scratches her head and Nathan winces in sympathy. He gives her the flask and swallows a few gulp.


    "Gah, why is it so bitter."


    "It¡¯s an acquired taste"


    "Alright I have news. There is an alarm."


    "Really? What is it this time, bird feathers?"


    "No an actual alarm."


    "¡­"


    "You can see it from there."


    True to her words, there is a sensor nested against the back entrance. If Nathan did not know it was there he would never have noticed it.


    "So if this detects movements the security company will call the house, and then the cops? I find this¡­ Doubtful."


    "Well some apps will send you an instant notification. There could be a camera as well. Thing is¡­"


    "Yes?"


    "I think we¡¯re being tested, so that means we should try not to fuck up anything."


    "Yeah that makes sense. That said, if both doors are locked and the windows all have bars we¡¯re kind of stuck. I can¡¯t magic alarms."


    "I think there is an unbarred window into the roof on the front, it¡¯s pretty high."


    "There is a metal ladder in the shed."


    The pair head to the wooden edifice and carry the rusted implement back on their shoulders. After positioning the ladder against the wall they find out that they can barely reach the window. Seren breaks the glass with the pommel of her true steel sword and spends a minute making sure there is enough space for her to put her hand through, which Nathan approves of. You really don¡¯t want to bleed massively all over the place during a burglary.


    Soon enough they both awkwardly climb through the open window and realize that they hit the jackpot.

 3.2 Double double

    This is it. So easy. The entire attic looks like a mix between an artist¡¯s workshop and a mad scientist¡¯s lair, if you consider serial killers who make lamps out of people''s skin artists, and in the middle of the room stands their target.


    It looks like a small stick of wood, barely as long as an arm. At one end, a bundle of twine binds a tube at a ninety degree angle and at the end of this tube there are three sharp needles the color of the night.


    Nathan silently picks up the tool and positions it in a box nearby. Seren sees him pick up a few vials of liquid as well, consider them carefully and place them next to the tool.


    Seren sweeps the room with her light. There are a few actual machines of unknown function, nothing too big and definitely nothing too new. A few tables host a hoard of various tools ranging from the obvious, like screwdrivers and pincers, to the clearly exotic like a copper tube with some sort of crystal at the end. There are also a few things used for paintings and what are obviously animal remains. The place is messy, dirty and it stinks of stale air, humidity and rot. Stains running down the tables and molten metal on the ground indicate that the person who lived there was quite frankly a slob, and also a budding psychopath. Fan-fucking-tastic.


    Nathan grabs a few things from a table and turns to her.


    ¡°We got what we wanted. We should leave."


    "We¡¯re not going to look downstairs?"


    "There could be an alarm and I learnt enough, we should quit while we¡¯re ahead."


    "Fair enough¡±.


    Besides some awkwardness trying to get back on the ladder, their exit is uneventful. They leave the warehouse to find the bitter cold of December night greeting them. Agrias is standing next to Nathan¡¯s battered SUV.


    ¡°Do you have it?"


    "Who the fuck are you?¡±


    Seren almost jump in surprise at Nathan¡¯s answer. It¡¯s obviously Agrias, they have the same face, same cloth, and the paths around her behave the same way. What is going on?


    Instead of answering, Agrias smiles. Yep, same teeth as well, yet Nathan does not seem to be convinced. Curiouser and curiouser.


    "Well met. You can call me Katagrias."


    "I thought you were otherwise engaged."


    "I was, and now I am not."


    "So soon?"Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.


    Seren decides that it would be wise to interrupt before Nathan says something that offends their first paying customer.


    ¡°Hum Nathan it¡¯s already 10 PM."


    "It is? Oh. I guess it is. You must be here for this."


    Nathan offers the case. Katagrias opens it and inspects the strange object briefly before closing it.


    "We will offer you a bonus for retrieving the ink as well."


    Even after watching her for a minute, Seren still has no idea what differentiates the two twins. They look identical to her. Nathan is acting weird around them, so maybe it¡¯s related to his own ability, or else it¡¯s something pervy like breast size and that would really be a shame because the girls are clearly underage. Then again, he just said no to Agrias¡¯ date idea. Then again, he was wise to refuse in front of Seren because she would have reported him to the FBI. Gah, nevermind, Seren should probably stop this line of reasoning.


    Katagrias wordlessly does something on her phone and Nathan takes out his and nods. Katagrias then takes out a file in reach cream color with a seal in red wax from¡­ Somewhere and hands it out.


    ¡°What¡¯s this?"


    "We have received two requests for employment within your¡­ Company. We have enclosed their Resume as well as our notes."


    "You guys are also headhunters? Seriously?"


    The woman smirks.


    Seren sees Nathan recoil briefly. He really walked into that double entendre didn¡¯t he?


    "Well played. I don¡¯t suppose that you could find us customers as well?"


    Of course we will advertise your services and take a commission on every successful transaction. Please bear in mind that a small proportion of North American population is aware of the existence or resurgence of magic, therefore¡­


    "Yeah yeah I got it"


    Seren notes that Katagrias is incredibly talkative compared to her twin. Not sure she likes it, her voice is¡­ Strange. Almost hissy.


    When they get back into the car, Seren feels that she has to ask.


    ¡°Any reason why you¡¯re so aggressive with the girls?"


    "First those are not girls for sure. They¡¯re not human."


    "Well Gwahin is not human either but you¡¯re much cooler with her."


    "They feel too alien to me, and we¡¯re being used and helped at the same time, and that makes me uncomfortable."


    "How so?"


    "Do you know what we picked up?"


    "Uh no I did not recognize it. It looks like a writing tool or something."


    "Close but no cigar, this is a tattoo instrument and the ink we recovered is used for this."


    "And?"


    "The big Varog that almost killed us had a tattoo. It was made with that thing, they have the same aura."


    "Wait you said the guy was human?"


    "Yeah there is an experienced weaver working with Varogs. Not just that, but he also had access to equipment from the House, and the House led us right to him. I expect Jin counted on me to make the connection."


    "That¡¯s surprisingly helpful of them."


    "That¡¯s weird because I think giving us two more contacts is also a big help. And one of the twins could have done this job. It almost feels like they are grooming us and pointing us in the right direction, but for what purpose?"


    "We¡¯re probably an investment."


    Seren considers that investors usually have a way of controlling their investments. Since the House is the only link between the magic world and themselves they have it, for now, but as they grow there will be more opportunities to emancipate. Seren wonders what the House¡¯s end game is but decides the let the matter drop for now. It¡¯s not like she knows enough to guess.


    ¡°Wait, where are we going?! This is not the direction of the hotel!¡±


    Nathan turns to her, winks and points his thumb to the back seat. Seren turns around to find a fully stacked box of¡­ Twinkies?


    "Oh no you fucking didn¡¯t!"


    "I sure did!"


    "We don¡¯t have time the Park closes at midnight"


    "It¡¯s barely 10Pm we will be fine."


    "I don¡¯t want to see her again."


    "Relax it will be fine."


    So it is decided that they would visit the queen of rats.

 3.3 An audience with the Queen

    Seren trails Nathan who walks with perfect composure with his box of Twinkies, immune to the jeers and comments from the pair of drunk college students they picked up at the park entrance. Why they think a man carrying Twinkies is the height of humor, she will never know. He has this lopsided grin that Milo had when someone was rude to him and he had the means to retaliate, especially since Umpire rock just came into view.


    Umpire rock, also known as Rat Rock, is just a big striated mass of schist that a hundred people could stand on at the same time. Really its only notable feature is how appropriate the name is tonight.


    Seren cannot help but smile when Nathan whistles with his finger, an incredible skill as far as she is concerned, and rats start gathering around.


    There is barely any light but the drunk students chuckle turn silent, then get replaced by expletives as the swarm conglomerates. Seren knows a group of rat is technically called a mischief, but the term does not do the situation justice. Shadows roll and undulate under the sheer number of rodents until a form emerges out of nowhere.


    Two screams and the sound of footstep sprinting away spell the end of the night for the two idiots behind her. Seren¡¯s grin soon mirrors Nathan¡¯s, coming here was worth it after all.


    The figure steps forward.


    Under the darkness, she can see the figure of a rat standing upright and moving forward with a strange gait. Instead of the lean figure of a domesticated rat, this one is a bit pudgy around the bottom and some bumps at the front speak of too many saggy breasts for Seren to contemplate. That shit really isn¡¯t natural. When the silhouette hits the light, it¡¯s as if it had been human all along.


    No transition, no change. Just one image to another.


    The person standing in front of them is a young woman barely out of puberty. She is wearing several layers of ratty (obviously) clothes in brown and black, but while she should look like a homeless person, the strange apparel gives the impression of a damaged gown. She is rather short and her shape is¡­ Seren is going to go with voluptuous. She is probably the teenager¡¯s wet dream honestly. The memory of the rat form only makes Seren appreciative of the perfect honey pot the queen has successfully morphed into. She has a cute chubby face with two prominent incisive, slightly elongated ears, and tousled brown hair. The whole effect is complimented by a cheap plastic tiara and black eyes.


    Those eyes are not black as in they have black iris. They are black. Completely black.


    Nathan bows smartly.


    ¡°Greetings your majesty¡±


    Seren follows suit by curtseying and saying her greetings as well. The whole scene makes her shudder. On the contrary and as far as she can tell, Nathan is completely genuine in his treatment of her. She couldn¡¯t do it. She is not scared of rats, they just disgust her. They are disease vectors for Christ¡¯s sake!


    The rat queen blushes cutely and takes out a fan from some recess in her quasi-gown, demurely using it to hide herself. Seren thinks she must have picked the gaudy horror from the dumpster behind a Chinese fast food joint.


    ¡°Knight Turner, it is always SUCH a pleasure to welcome you to our court.¡±


    Nathan winks and the queen turns a delicate shade of tulip. He was the one to suggest she speaks using the ¡°royal we¡±. Seren knows this is technically called nosism, though frankly she is not ready to share this information with Nathan. Only Milo and Yuki know she is a word nerd and she intends to keep it that way thank you very much.


    Thinking about Milo again brings a pang of melancholy. He is gone, but so is his murderer. The hole in her chest is not gone but its bite is not nearly as painful.


    The Varog will not take from her again.


    ¡°Your majesty, I come bearing a gift and a request. Will you grant us an audience?¡±


    ¡°Oh, oh yes, an audience! Of course! Have you¡­ Have you reconsidered our offer to be our king?¡±


    ¡°Alas your majesty, the situation has not changed and I must decline.¡±


    Seren does her best to maintain a poker face. Agrias before, and now the rat queen? Nathan is such an underage monster lady killer.


    She takes a moment to appreciate that her life has turned into such a mess that the word combination ¡°underage monster lady killer¡± actually makes sense. Gah.


    ¡°Oh.¡±


    The poor thing looks absolutely dejected then her face turns resolute.


    ¡°Bring me my throne, loyal servants!¡±


    A wriggling mass of shadows resolves itself into a large seat and as it reaches the light, the queen plops on it with a satisfied sigh.


    Seren has seen many esthetical horrors in her godforsaken life, including the very worst that money and ignorance can bring together with her Dad, back in Russia. Gold plated Nike shoes, escorts dressed as gladiators and even a full size statue of a fat man with all teeth replaced with diamonds, yet this, this takes the fucking cake.


    The throne is fast food children prop in sickly shades of red and yellow, with the shiniest pieces of junk incrusted in it with a hammer, if the innumerable fissures are any indication. Several striped bands made out of pink post-its circle Frankenstein¡¯s furniture and the whole unholy thing is crowned with plungers which have apparently been skewered through the headrest.


    What. The. Fuck.


    The queen looks at them and frowns, then her face turns into a pout.


    ¡°Hum¡­ Something feels wrong!¡±


    Nathan speaks without missing a beat.


    ¡°Your majesty, perhaps it would be better if the throne is, huh, higher compared to us, so that you don¡¯t have to look up so much.¡±


    True enough the throne currently sits in a recess in the ground which means the poor thing has to crack her neck too stare them in the eyes. Embarrassing.


    ¡°¡­. Maybe on this boulder?¡±


    The queen turns even redder and her eyes shine with tears.


    ¡°I¡¯m¡­ I¡¯m too tired¡­¡±


    She sobsDid you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.


    ¡°I can¡¯t make them move it!¡±


    Nathan steps forward and places a paternal hand on her shoulder. She leans into him and buries her head on his chest.


    ¡°It¡¯s alright, it¡¯s alright. Seren and I will help you move it. Huh, right Seren?¡±


    Nathan gives her an imploring look. Sigh. Thank God her tetanus shot is up to date because else she would not touch this blasphemy with a ten foot rusty pole.


    Nathan pats the queen¡¯s head for a little while, whispering encouraging words.


    Seren takes an instant to appreciate the moment. The gesture is curiously soothing. There is tenderness in it, an undeniable feeling of concern and sympathy. The queen¡¯s appearance calls for revulsion in its rat form, and sexual attraction in her human one. Nathan only shows respect and friendliness.


    ¡°Here have some sugar, it will help.¡±


    Nathan takes out a Twinkie out of his pocket and gives it to the queen. She looks at it like it¡¯s a gold bar and shreds the paper. They manage to heave the ¡°throne¡± on a boulder by the time she is done devouring the sugary treat and when she sits on it, she looks much better.


    ¡°Thank you. Now you may offer your gift and present your request and we shall consider it.¡±


    Nathan presents the case of Twinkie. Judging from the giddy laugh and hand clap his gift hit the bull¡¯s eye.


    ¡°Now onto my request. As you know we are In conflict with the voracious Varog and I have come to request your help.¡±


    The queen¡¯s expression turns resolute, and she swipes the air with her hand dismissively.


    ¡° I have thought this over, and I will not assist you. The life of my servants would be wasted facing such dangerous opponents.¡±


    ¡°Of course your majesty, that said, I do not want your aid in combat. As a knight, facing them in battle is my call.¡±


    Jesus, isn¡¯t the man full of shit.


    ¡°I only beseech your help in locating them.¡±


    He takes a piece of fabric and a strange copper bar from yet another pocket and present them.


    ¡° Those two item bear the mark of their magician. Should you locate him, or them, I would be able to bring them to battle.¡±


    The queen picks up the two things and sniffs them. She nods to herself but soon her face crunches in displeasure.


    ¡°Knight Turner, we are concerned by your willingness to face them! Surely such a dangerous foe could spell your end!!!!¡±


    Seren thinks there is less exaggerated drama in a high school rendition of Hamlet. The man just takes it in stride.


    ¡°Worry not queen, for we already faced them thrice and emerged victorious!¡±


    The queen¡¯s tongue darts out as if to taste the air, and her eyes bulge.


    ¡°You speak the truth!¡± She squeals. ¡°Such a valorous knight! We shall assist you in this endeavor! Hum, but we demand compensation! A boon to repay the effort of my servants!¡±


    ¡°Your majesty, would more food be deemed an acceptable payment?¡±


    ¡°Yes, and next time bring me some meat, and also bring me something red!¡±


    The surreal negotiations being at an end, they both bow to her one after the other. As Seren leans forward the queen mimics her and whispers in her ears.


    ¡°Thank you for your help with the throne, you are a worthy rival, knight Nechayeva! We will yet steal him from you!!¡±


    Wait what?


    As they prepare to leave, Nathan turns away one last time. His demeanor has changed to serious.


    ¡°Your majesty, have you decided on a name?¡±


    ¡°No knight Turner, I cannot seem to be able to name myself. Perhaps you could¡­¡±


    The queen looks hopeful.


    Nathan nods.


    The world stops.


    Seren knows she is not as sensitive to magic, or ¡°The flow¡± as he calls it, as Nathan, yet even she can tell something momentous is taking place right now. The air is filled with the expectation that can only be found during nominations and game changing penalty shots. She finds herself holding her breath. She does not even dare to switch paths.


    ¡°Your name is Piper.¡±


    Something¡­ Unlocks. This is the best comparison she comes up with. Something is resolved, and something is born. Seren feels that she has just witnessed history though the question remains: Was she on the right side of it?


    The queen, Queen Piper now, nods in acknowledgement. Her stature already feels different, more mature and more provocative. And¡­ Taller!?


    ¡°A pleasant name, a loaded name, and a name freely given. Yes. This is suitable. We shall remember this moment knight Turner, and we shall remember you.¡±


    Seren shivers. They walk away and the form of Queen Piper dissolves itself in the shadows. Her onyx eyes are the last thing to go, glittering in the darkness. She prays Nathan knows what he¡¯s doing because she remembers the tale of the pied piper of Hamelin, and more importantly how the story ended.


    ¡°Was this wise? I do not want to demean her or anything but she¡¯s a monster in the original sense¡±


    ¡°You think I should not have helped, ignored her instead?¡±


    ¡°That would have been more careful. I mean, things turned out for the best and we haven¡¯t been swarmed by rats so maybe you made the right call. It¡¯s just, I can tell that you made her more queen-like like and if what you say is true you basically made her stronger, except she is not human. She could still decide that people intrude on her territory and start to make them disappear and that would be our responsibility.¡±


    ¡°Maybe, but I don¡¯t think she will. When we met her she was barely articulate and did not have her crown but she was already the queen of rats. Not because she looks like a queen, but because the rats obey her. By being helpful and nice in her hour of need, I made sure we would become allies.¡±


    ¡°I see. Do you intend to try to get all magical creatures we meet on our side?¡±


    ¡°I doubt it¡¯s possible. That said I do intend to ally as much as I can, yes. There is something else though. Are you familiar with the term: fake it till you make it?¡±


    ¡°yeah, you, huh, try to convince yourself of something and then your brain eventually think it¡¯s the truth, right?¡±


    ¡°Yes. You probably noticed that your magic is influencing you?¡±


    Seren stops for a second. Could it be true? In the past few weeks, she has not really acted like she usually does and she blamed it on fear, grief and exhaustion. Her aggression and her unwillingness to compromise¡­ Could they be caused by the paths?


    Are they fucking with her mind?


    ¡°You ok there?¡±


    ¡°What do you mean? Are we being influenced? Am I becoming crazy?!¡±


    ¡°Ok Seren take a deep breath. Your magic, the paths you mentioned, they are a part of you. They are you.¡±


    ¡°I just¡­ I don¡¯t want to become insane!¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not crazy ok? We are, in part, the sum of our experience. After what you have lived through, it¡¯s pretty obvious that you¡¯re not the same person as before. Nothing wrong with that.¡±


    ¡°Right¡­ Right. Yeah, that makes sense.¡±


    Still, this is super scary, and creepy. Yet¡­ It explains a lot. Seren had career plans, working for Chauham would have let her develop a significant network, not to mention the pay. Her ambition and greed should have battled with her hatred of fetters. The old Seren would have at least considered the offer¡­ But not the new Seren. The old Seren had outgrown Vassily¡¯s lesson, seen the old blademaster¡¯s obsession with the art of the sword as adorably outdated. The sword as a weapon is not just obsolete; warriors have given way to soldiers, trained to work as units. More importantly, power is not in the hands of the soldiers but those who send them to war. This is not a world of Ronin and Errant Knights, this is a world of project management and network development.


    Except, this is no longer true isn¡¯t it? This world collapsed not long ago, in a geyser of arterial blood.


    Now she understands Vassily¡¯s words, his disdain for rules and his pride when she landed a killing blow on his armor for the first time, striking him with all the strength in her teenage body.


    As if sensing her distress, the paths switch to show her a way to escape from the car. This time, her usual headache is much more subdued.


    Is she getting better at it?


    It¡¯s clear that her perspective has changed, it is also clear that the paths make her more¡­ Feral. They only answer to primitive impulses, and so she is becoming less¡­ Civilized.


    She kind of needs it.


    Nathan is right, the paths are her magic. They are who she is, and they influence how she thinks just how hunger and pain influence her behavior. It was not some mysterious mojo that made her almost kill Liam, it was her own uncontrolled anger. She has to get better at using the paths. She needs to learn how to control her power, like she learnt how to control her emotions. They are not the paths, they are her paths.


    She turns to Nathan with renewed resolve. He is focused on driving, but a quick glance tells him she is done musing.


    ¡°Hum, I believe we were talking about queen Piper?¡±


    Oh.


    ¡°Oh yeah, sorry I lost touch there for a moment. Fake it till you make it. Elaborate.¡±


    ¡°Right¡­ Well, Gwahin mentioned several times that magic is governed by intent and affinity. By doing my best to make her look more human, I believe that I made her more human, period. She will never be harmless, but she will always be someone we can negotiate with and that makes her better that the Varog. ¡°


    He stops for a moment.


    ¡°I was also thinking that if I were to wake up naked and alone in a city like New York with no idea who I am, I would definitely appreciate if someone took the time to fill me in.¡±


    ¡°Next time you suggest getting a throne can you be more specific about what a throne is? If I ever lay my eyes on that anathema to good taste they¡¯ll probably fall off.¡±


    ¡°Aw come on it was so cute¡­¡±


    The rest of the drive is spent in companionable bickering.

 3.4 New blood

    Nathan sits on the motel bed and thinks about Seren. She is a weird one. She was calm and composed when they were breaking and entering, but she freaked out when he mentioned powers affecting her mind. She swings between shy girl and complete Ice Queen. Last but not least, who the fuck uses the word ¡°Anathema¡± in a normal conversation!? It has four syllables!


    Nathan sighs. He is being too hard on her, someone who has gone through so much without being broken has the right to have a few quirks, not to mention she is a great business partner. Not even a month into the job and she already helped him commit a crime. Talk about employee loyalty.


    Nathan hired her for a bit over 2K USD per month, which is a garbage salary for a consultant but hey, it¡¯s a start up, and she can get some bonus. He pays himself the same.


    The good news is that they have a bit of cash, courtesy of Australian Skeptics Inc. A bit over 70K USD to be precise, this should provide a nice cushion.


    Of course there would be funds that give rewards to people who can demonstrate supernatural abilities. It had been the matter of a flight to Sydney (fucking long and really costly), and a few hours spent in a garden, and boom! Cash in the bank baby. It really helped that December down under is the height of summer. It was just a shame that the American equivalent stopped in 2015 because the cash prize was one million dollars and that would have helped them a lot. Why could he not awaken three years earlier?! Fuck.


    Well it¡¯s too late now, but they are moving forward and that¡¯s what matters.


    Nathan just hopes he did not set off any alarms, at least he got to demonstrate anonymously.


    Nathan decides to turn out for the night. There is no need to worry about what is beyond his control. Tomorrow would be a busy day.


    On the morning they decide to settle in one of the ubiquitous Starbucks near Central Park to review their leads. They start with the Resumes and assorted notes that Katagrias gave them.


    There might be only a handful of jobs on earth to have that amount of difference between two applicants.


    The first one is Jericho Lei, 22 years-old, second generation American-born Chinese, currently pursuing a master degree in Materials Science and Engineering at the MIT. Not much job experience at this stage. Hobbies include: piano and building custom made figurines, she even got a prize. Jin¡¯s notes indicate that she almost got in serious trouble with her administration a month ago. She designed a material with new and surprising properties, but other could not replicate the process to get the same results. She would have been accused of dishonesty were it not for the fact that she was able to make the material in front of witness. Jin suspects that Jericho has some sort of magic that can affect what she works on. Nathan agrees, and now the prospect of an infused flamethrower isn¡¯t so ridiculous anymore.


    The second one is John Barrett, 67 year old, US army Master Sergeant (Retired ). The Resume mentions he is recipient of the Silver Star Medal, the Purple Heart as well as a truckload of other medals, citations, commendations and ribbons. Seriously the guy is more decorated than a Christmas tree.


    ¡°Wow¡± Says seren.


    Jin¡¯s notes mention that this dude is a guerilla warfare and recon expert, and that he has seen action in Vietnam, the Gulf War and Afghanistan. Small weapon expert, demolition expert. The works.


    ¡°Well if we ever needed a combat expert we found him.¡±


    ¡°Yeah this guy can definitely teach us a thing or two. So Seren, what do you think about the girl?


    Seren gives him a measuring look.


    ¡°It¡¯s not like we can refuse any application. Look, I know what you¡¯re doing. You¡¯re giving us a structure so that we have some legitimacy doing what we do, and a salary. That said the real objective is survival. We are banding together because we will win together or die alone, hunted one by one by monsters and who knows what else. Those Resume and notes are just for show.¡±


    ¡°Not exactly, we still need to weed out idiots and assholes. Anyway, let¡¯s call them and set up an appointment.¡±


    Not only were both candidates eager to meet, Jin Mirrah also offered to graciously host the meeting at the House¡¯s main office when asked. The rest of the day is spent in relative relaxation.


    Nathan expected the House to be either a grand Gothic manor full of gargoyles and statues, or a hidden door in a seedy part of town. As usual, reality surprises him by being, for once, completely normal.


    The House is a small warehouse situated on the edge of the Hudson River, not far from the New York City Harbor. The walls are made of brown bricks, the roof out of corrugated steel and there is even a loading dock for trucks at the back. As Nathan parks, he can spot Michael¡¯s hummer and Jin¡¯s sleek convertible. The smell of the river reaches his nostril and he feels some sort of draw, on the same scale as Gwahin¡¯s tree since it was planted, but more diffuse and¡­ Liquid. Nathan wonders how much he will discover as his affinity with weaving improves.


    They find Michael deep in conversation with Jin Mirrah. Michael is still dressed in cargo pants, leather jackets and a baseball cap over his unruly hair while Jin Mirrah still looks like a GQ model, apparently immune to the cold. The twin looks frantic, while their guest seems slightly amused.


    ¡°And what about greek fire? Would that work?¡±


    ¡°It might, though you will need to gather and mix all the regents yourself.¡±


    ¡°Hot damn. What if I have one of the wizards engrave the fuse with magical squiggly? Would that make it even more explodey?¡±


    ¡°I admit that I have no idea. Oh! Knight Turner, Ms. Nechayeva, welcome!¡±


    ¡°Hello Mr Mirrah. Hi Michael.¡±


    ¡°Ah, enough of this, you guys just call me Jin.¡±


    ¡°Nathan then.¡±


    ¡°Seren is fine.¡±


    ¡°Since we are still waiting for two people, why don¡¯t I give you a quick tour of our facilities?¡±


    Nathan accepts if only to get out of the biting cold. They leave Michael frantically scribbling things in a notebook, his eyes bulging like crazy.


    The House is much nicer on the inside. The main entrance is spacious, tastefully furnished with minimalist furniture and completely spotless. The room itself is dominated by a large desk with two, very large monitors. As they walk in, a figure stands up to greet them.


    ¡°Hello and welcome to the House of Mirrah and Z.¡±


    The woman is of Middle-Eastern origin, with dark eyes and white hair. She is dressed in an impeccable black mavy suit with discreet yet tasteful jewelry. She makes Nathan feel inadequate in his street clothes. As they shake hands, the smell of jasmine fills his nose. Her hair color and crows feet make him think she is in the age category that is after fifty and that he should never, ever ask about.


    ¡°I am Leila El Filali, account manager and admin for the House.¡±


    ¡°Ah yes we talked on the phone.¡±


    She quickly sits back down, obviously in the middle of something. Jin leads them through the facilities, pretty standard but strangely empty. While they walk Seren asks a few questions.


    The House was founded in the mid 90¡¯s with the purpose of becoming the most prominent trading company in North America. There are only four full times employees and they use a variety of contractors for various tasks. Nathan gets the feeling that Jin knows about magic coming back, somehow and set up early in order to benefit from the inevitable increase in demand. They have no catalogue and work mostly on an ad hoc basi, with very little inventory ever kept on site. Other questions are dodged.


    ¡°Who is Z?¡±


    ¡°That information is classified, and not available for trade I¡¯m afraid, just know that Z is the cofounder of this firm and keeps a close eye on all transactions.¡±


    ¡°Do you know where the hunters are?¡±


    ¡°This information is available in our monthly VIP report, available at two thousand dollars per month and a thirty thousand dollar entry fee.¡±


    Ouch.


    ¡°Do you keep the ark of covenant here?¡±


    ¡°No Nathan, nor do we possess the Graal, Excalibur or any holy grenade for that matter.¡±


    ¡°looks like Michael is working on it.¡±


    ¡°Yes he is very enthusiastic isn¡¯t he? A demolition expert is always valuable, not even a great resistance to normal weapon will stop you from being blown up. Oh, and sorry but I cannot give you access to our vault for security reason Nathan.¡±If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.


    ¡°Aw I wanted to see if it¡¯s like Gringotts¡±


    ¡°You would be disappointed; I just cannot let someone with your acute sense of perception hang around our customer¡¯s property. Confidentiality issues, you understand.¡±


    Jin¡¯s smooth smile make the refusal feel like a compliment. It¡¯s not that he doesn¡¯t trust Nathan you see, company policy give him no choice and Nathan is just too good! Right.


    As they walk back towards the entrance Jin starts asking Seren and him more and more personal questions, mostly to him and mostly about his family and his hobbies. Nathan answers freely, and asks a few of his own.


    ¡°I was wondering. What species are Agrias and Katagrias?¡±


    Jin smiles knowingly, but there is an edge in his amber eyes.¡±


    ¡°It is not for me to say, and I would advise getting closer to them first, as it is considered a bit tactless to ask this kind of questions too directly. Trust is paramount is our world.¡±


    Nathan looks up at Jin¡¯s golden horns and gets the hint. Jin gives an imperceptible nod.


    ¡°So what are your hobbies?¡±


    ¡°I love playing the violin.¡±


    ¡°A musician? Have you played long?¡±


    ¡°Yes, I have played for twenty years now, I find it incredibly relaxing.¡±


    Nathan imagines Jin walking around playing the violin like a virtuoso. Wet panties would slap the ground at terminal velocity. Life just isn¡¯t fair.


    ¡°Oh, our guests have arrived!¡±


    Seren scratches her nose. An engineer, a disgraced business student, a fired After-Sales manager, an infantry veteran and a demolition expert walk into a room. Hilarity ensues.


    Jin closes the conference room door tactfully and everyone starts gauging everyone. Like everything here, the conference room is tastefully furnished in shades of ochre and white. It would feel like the office of a big four consulting group if it were not so empty.


    Jericho Lei is a short Asian girl, stocky without being chubby. She is not pretty, yet her smile is infectious and she has a strange sort of magnetism, double with a boundless energy. She is currently playing with her MIT hoodie and doodling a diagram on a piece of paper. She brought herself and a tablet. She might look aloof but Seren isn¡¯t fooled. The keen brown eyes have taken everything into account, from mannerism to clothes, catalogued it and filed it. Jericho isn¡¯t looking anymore because she already gathered all the data she could and her time is better spent doing something else.


    By contrast, John Barrett is sitting ramrod straight in his chair, and wears an actual business suit, navy blue. No tie thankfully, or else Seren would have felt too embarrassed in her grungy clothes. He is tall and has the built of a man who could run across a state without stopping. Not a single ounce of fat. He placed his back on the one chair that gives vision on both the windows and the door, and his percing blue eyes go back and forth between Nathan and herself. He looks old but dignified, like a Roman general.


    Michael is currently unpacking and setting up burner phones for the two newcomers.


    Nathan just sits there with his eyes closed.


    Something weird is going on. No one is talking. She would have expected Nathan to take the lead, what with this being his idea. Instead, he is sitting in silence with his eyes slightly closed. There is something else. John and Jericho (call me Jerry) know Jin Mirrah personally. She¡¯s sure of it. It¡¯s the way they greeted each others.


    Something is going on, but what?


    Nathan opens his eyes.


    Today has been enlightening. Leila el-Filali is human and does not weave, and Nathan gets the impression she does not approve of him, no idea why. Michael is still human and can still not weave. After Jin left the room and his aura of amber and overheated metal stopped overwhelming his senses, he was able to find out a bit more about the newcomers. First, the good news is that the two persons in front of him are not related to the psycho pet slayer. Jericho feels like rustled paper and bubbles, and John Barrett feels like some kind of weird wet earth he has never felt before, and glass. They are also natural weavers, like him. By contrast, Seren¡¯s aura is much more subdued, which Nathan suspects is a consequence of her magic manifesting internally.


    ¡°Alright I¡¯ll start. Seren and I got your Resumes but this isn¡¯t a job interview. We¡¯re here to decide if we want to work together to face the Eaters, the things that kidnapped you, and whatever else the world throws at us. I propose that you ask your questions, then we ask our questions, then I tell you what we are planning and then you decide if you want to join. You guys ok with that?¡±


    Jericho lets out a small ¡°Yup!¡± and John Barrett just nods.


    ¡°Then ask¡±


    ¡°Ladies first.¡±


    Jericho squirms in her seat until her position mirrors Nathan¡¯s, arms on the table and chest leaning forward.


    ¡°What magic can you guys do?¡±


    ¡°I can detect magic pretty well.¡±


    Seren hesistates for one moment, then relents. Nathan believes she is right to be circumspect, but at this stage they have to gamble to make allies


    ¡°I can see the best way to do something¡­ With severe limitations.


    What kind of limitations?


    It only works for violence and self-preservation.


    I see.¡±


    John Barrett fixes her with a strange intensity.


    ¡°Does that mean that you can predict if someone is going to shoot us?¡±


    ¡°Well, I can only focus on one thing at a time, but if I¡¯m not fighting¡­ And if I¡¯m the one who¡¯s targeted¡­ Then probably.¡±


    ¡°Hot damn, wish I had known you when we were in Nam¡­¡±


    Barrett¡¯s eyes turn dreamy and a little bit sorrowful. Nathan doesn¡¯t point out that Seren wasn¡¯t born by then, not to mention women as combat personnel were usually frowned upon at that time. No need to antagonize the aging veteran, and at least he¡¯s not sexist.


    ¡°When did you find out about your powers?¡±


    Nathan and Seren answer a variety of questions on who they are, what they did and the Varog. Nathan answers truthfully, but restricts information on Gwahin, Sarah and Patience. Jericho speaks the most while Barrett studies them, only interrupting to ask for clarifications. After a while the questions start to go off topic.


    ¡°Are there Hobbits? Elves? Broody fighters who look like Viggo Mortensen?¡±


    ¡°My source says no. For broody fighters we know that there are human orders dedicated to hunting magical beings, I¡¯m sure one of them can do broody.¡±


    ¡°Vampires? Werewolves?¡±


    ¡°Thankfully no.¡±


    ¡°Dragons?¡±


    The whole building vibrates just enough for the water in Nathan¡¯s glass to undulate. His teeth ache a little bit and the room grows darker and wider at the same time. Everybody holds their breath. Foot stomps echo in the corridor outside, moving ponderously to their door. A heavy fist smashes into the frame, the knocks echoing like bell tolls. The handle lowers and the door opens. Nathan¡¯s hands are on the Makka, coaxing it to wake up, because he needs the weapon, now, he needs it right the fuck now and¡­


    Jin enters the room holding a file and a basket of fruits. The room is normal. Jin is normal, well, except for the horns. Everything is fine.


    Nathan blinks.


    Everybody is staring at him.


    He forces his hands off the Makka in his coat, knuckle by knuckle.


    ¡°Is everything all right?¡±


    ¡°Yeah¡­¡±


    ¡°Here, I have a list of typical tasks we would want you to do with the corresponding after-reports. All names were erased for confidentiality reasons but you should be able to learn enough to do some prep work. Ah last thing, names have power, so don¡¯t say that word again, especially here. Thanks.¡±


    The door shuts down behind him. They are alone.


    ¡°Hum sorry about that.


    That¡¯s ok you couldn¡¯t know. Anything else?


    Yes. How do you cast a fireball? Is it even possible?


    Well, Gw¡­ My source says it should be possible but she has no idea how, that I¡¯ll have to figure out by myself and that I have to remember that I¡¯m flammable.


    Makes sense.


    She also said that magic-wise we were all fairly weak right now and we needed time and lot of practice.¡±


    Technically Gwahin had said that they were overgrown toddlers with an inflated ego but they didn¡¯t need to know that.


    There were a few more questions from the newcomers, then it was time for Seren and Nathan to learn more.


    ¡°Alright so what can you guys do?¡±


    John Barrett stands up with as much dignity as if he were to declare independence.


    ¡°I will start. Mr Turner, please hit me with a chair.


    Ok.¡±


    To absolutely no one¡¯s surprise, Nathan stands up and walks around the table, grabs the now standing Barrett¡¯s chair and swings at him with slightly less force than a pro wrestler would apply. The chair bounces back on an invisible surface and crashes on the ground.


    Nathan leans forward, there is not even a shimmer in the air and the chair was stopped completely soundlessly.


    ¡°Can you shoot through it from your side?


    No, I did not try shooting but I tried stabbing and it stops everything in both directions, that said it¡¯s two small panels which means I can block one side while you shoot from the others.


    Nice. Really useful. Can they move?


    They move with me, I can use them to push heavy stuff but there is a limit. The more I push or block, and the more my head hurts.


    Alright. We can definitely use this.


    As long as we kill those assholes, I¡¯ll be your shield.¡±


    Barrett walks back to the table and opens a suitcase. Inside are parts of what is quite clearly, a really big gun. Barrett stares Nathan and Seren in the eye. His eyes are icy blue and they promise cold, methodical violence.


    ¡°And I can shoot.¡±


    A wise man said, beware an old man in a young man¡¯s job. At this moment, there is no doubt in Nathan¡¯s mind that John Barrett is still alive because other men are dead.


    The man himself casually recovers his chair from the ground and sits in it.


    Without missing a beat, Seren turns to the other woman.


    ¡°What about you Jericho?¡±


    Just call me Jerry.¡±


    She opens a backpack and takes out a long object from it. Based on a police baton, the kind with a side handle on it, it has engravings everywhere and an additional guard near the handle. A silvery line of foreign material runs along the shaft, contrasting with the black matte coloring of the original weapon. On closer inspection, the lines are welded on and connected to the guard and the engravings are some sort of runic alphabet. Nathan doesn¡¯t need to get closer to feel the object¡¯s aura, cold, spasm and aching teeth. Electricity.


    ¡°Is that¡­ A magic stun baton?


    Yes! And it works! Would you like to test it?¡±


    Seren cuts them off.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think it¡¯s a good idea¡­


    You¡¯re probably right, I¡¯m sure it works. That would be super useful.¡±


    Jerry nods and rummages in her backpack. She takes out a leather casing which she opens with reverence. The rest of the team peeks in, Barrett included. Jerry¡¯s item is a long hexagonal bar cut in two along the length, with a blocky square at one end. Both half bars are linked together on one side, so that the bar opens itself like a book. The two halves look identical. Two lengths of parallel metal lines run along the length of each half with a small groove cut in the middle. The rest of the bar is made out of some form of shiny white ceramic. The whole thingie is absolutely covered in runes and engraving in dense lines and emits an intense aura. Nathan whistles. The amount of Jerry-hour spent on this must be staggering.


    ¡°That¡¯s my baby.¡±


    Seren nods approvingly, and even Barrett looks impressed. Jerry caresses the thing lovingly


    ¡°It could fire a solid projectile at 2,500 m/s, that¡¯s Mach 7, and deliver an impact energy of over 0,2 Mega joules even several kilometers away, with barely any recoil.¡±


    The room is dead silent.


    ¡°Unfortunately it doesn¡¯t work.¡±


    Three adults let out the breaths they were holding.


    ¡°That¡¯s my life¡¯s work. I can¡¯t show it to my supervisor because magic, I can¡¯t show it to the spooks because they would take it. It¡¯s mine. I made it and I decide who uses it, and I can¡¯t use it unless I can finish it and for this I need money.¡±


    Jerry¡¯s manic eyes drill into Nathan.


    ¡°Fund my research and you¡¯ll get to wield humanity¡¯s first man-sized rail gun.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m broke. Well, not really, but we don¡¯t have the budget of General Dynamics. How much cash would it cost to have one anyway?


    Hum I don¡¯t know, but upward a hundred thousand maybe?¡±


    Once again, the room is silent.


    ¡°You already have a prototype and it¡¯s still going to cost that much?¡±


    Jerry¡¯s face flushes in embarrassment. She starts muttering.


    ¡°Hmm I got it¡­ Arg nevermind, not like you couldn¡¯t find out on your own. Anyway. My parents are loaded and I used my personal funds to buy the materials.¡±


    She turns defensive.


    ¡°I built everything from scratch! Except now that source has dried. Apparently something that can hit like a tank and make projectiles reach orbit is a waste of time and money and not a valid pursuit for a young lady! Fuck!¡±


    Jerry realizes that everybody is staring at her.


    ¡°A¡­ Anyway. I can do stuff like that or the stupid nightstick, I¡¯ll be your engineering department or whatever, as long as I get to build the railgun.¡±


    John Barrett starts speaking like he has to tell her that Santa Claus doesn¡¯t exist.


    ¡°A human size railgun would be incredible. That said, it might not be the best tool for hostage rescue in a building.¡±


    Seren adds more sternly:


    ¡°Yeah we might kill the hostage. And the guy who lives down the road three blocks away. And everything in between¡­¡±


    Jerry looks like a kicked puppy.


    ¡°But I¡¯m sure we can find applications, I mean, this is a long term investment. Right guys?


    Mh mh.


    Don¡¯t worry Jerry I think getting a science-fiction infused weapon is awesome, I mean we could put a whole through the biggest monsters with that thing for sure. It¡¯s just that we just started and we don¡¯t have a hundred grands lying around. Tell you what, why don¡¯t you start by making a list of the cheapest things you need to get started and we¡¯ll work from here?¡±


    Jerry perks up at the prospect and gives everyone a brilliant smile. Obviously she has not been jaded by half a decade of managerial bullshit and doesn¡¯t know yet the sound of empty promises. Nathan is speaking honestly though. A magical weapon with no recoil and the power of a tank gun? Fuck yes, I¡¯ll take your entire stock please. It¡¯s not like they can¡¯t find a use for something that has the potential for collateral victims and hundreds of thousands of dollars in property damage with each shot.


    In the meanwhile well, they have a nightstick.

 3.5 Gone to Ground

    Seren¡¯s first hint that something¡¯s wrong is the Asian old lady¡¯s horrified expression. The paths show no danger but she still decides to look into it. Using her supreme talents as a newly minted private investigator slash supernatural consultant of the illustrious Seekers Consulting (Limited), she promptly finds the cause of the disturbance. Basically she just followed the old woman¡¯s gaze


    It is 11 AM on Middletown road. The air is crisp and cold, the pale light shines on the grey tiles under her feet, the brown bricks of the buildings around her and the light and signs of local businesses. This is not the high rises and elegant establishments of Manhattan. This is Pelham bay in the Bronx and the businesses are small restaurants, Delis and nail salons, and they never have more than a few stories. This is a normal place, where normal people live and work, and this makes the giant rat on the roof of that black Prius that much more out of place.


    It is white, kind of fluffly for a rodent and about the size of a small cat. It stares at Seren with beady pink eyes and clutches an envelope in its paws. The envelope is standard size, beige and closed with a red wax seal.


    With creeping dread, Seren realizes that there is only one ¡°person¡± around who would use express rat instead of instant messages as a means of communication. That also means that she has to take the message.


    Step by step, she gets closer to the rat. It just keeps staring her down which is slightly embarrassing. With a disgusting grunt the Chinese woman just leaves in a rush so at least there will be no witness.


    Seren extends a hand and the rat carefully deposits the envelope in her grasp. It¡¯s actually clean, and its fur is kind of lush so all things considered it¡¯s not that disgusting. Just slightly creepy, really.


    The rat bows and leaves in a side alley.


    A black woman passing by throws her hand in outrage and mumbles something about white people. If only that had happened in Manhattan, then nobody would have reacted.


    Seren carefully breaks the seal open and takes out a handwritten letter. The paper was taken from a Petco stationary, the text is written by hands in red crayon and there is a ketchup stain on the top left corner. Yep that¡¯s Piper alright, no doubt about it.


    ¡°DeaR NiteS, We az found yur Quarel, pliz come wid ol Haste!


    YurS


    Quin Paiper.¡±


    Seren briefly considers setting this standing insult to the English language on fire but decides against it. The way her life has been going recently it might set her apartment ablaze by resonance or some such bullshit so fuck it, let Nathan enjoy the literary horror as well. She pulls out her James Bond cell.


    ¡°Knight Turner?


    Yeah?


    We are cordially invited to see her majesty. The summons came via messenger rodent by the way.


    Did she say when?¡±


    Seren takes her stuffiest voice.


    ¡°Posthaste my lad.¡±


    That gives both of them a chuckle.


    ¡°I¡¯ll be right down.¡±


    ¡°It looks like we won¡¯t have to go to Central Park after all.¡± Nathan says while they follow the white rat down a dirty alley. They turn left and instead of the expected dead end they reach some sort of inner courtyard.


    Seren is pretty sure that there should not be any courtyard here, and the sound of the city is strangely subdued, however she can sort of see in the future and followed a giant rodent down an alley while carrying a box of twinkies so she won¡¯t judge.If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.


    The courtyard¡¯s walls are made out of the ubiquitous red brick, it stands empty but for rows upon rows of rats, the throne, the queen and two men.


    ¡°Be welcome knights!¡±


    Seren barely pays attention while Piper and Nathan exchange platitudes and overly dramatic exclamations. They look like they are having fun. Seren is studying the two other humans.


    Modern society has a safety net and for a variety of reasons there are those who fall through the cracks. They have become outlaws in the truest sense of the term, as in they are no longer protected by it. The two men have the gaunt features and attentive eyes of those who sleep with one eye opened and never truly trust anyone. Even now, their posture radiate defiance and conflict, ready to fight and bite as easily as to cut and run. The man on the right is a very tall African-American man. He is painfully thin and Seren is pretty sure is not eighteen yet. The real problem is the other one. He is in his early thirties, with black hairs held back in a bun and a short beard, like some sort of opera villain. His posture says ex military and his hand is resting not far from the handle of a handgun held on his side by a makeshift shoulder holster. They are both covered in layer of grayish clothes that should make them look like hobos but instead give the feeling of desiccated court apparel. They are almost stylish, with carefully placed buckles and sharp angles. Completely silent, they stare at Nathan and her in turn.


    She decides to let Nathan take the lead. She has been doing a lot of this lately, letting Nathan take the lead. It is not exactly uncomfortable. He does not give order, he does not pry, he does not try to cheer her up with forceful humor. He is giving her space and time and this is what she needs now. She is included and her boundaries are respected. It is a good start to rebuilding a future.


    The soldier on the left is sneering at her while the one on the right is looking warily at Nathan. Seren has never faced anyone with a gun come to think of it. She wonders how she would fare.


    Her paths contract and redeploy like a stretching cat. This part of her likes to be used, it enjoys the challenge.


    Most of the options are the black of death but it does not matter, it never has. What does, is that there are a few white ones and that her body can follow, and this time she knows she can.


    The ex grunt¡¯s eye widen, then he nods at her and his hand lowers slowly.


    He must have felt something.


    They are rat knights, or human knights of the rat queen or whatever, it¡¯s possible they have a deeply ingrained survival instinct. She just had to bare her teeth for them to reconsider threatening her. It¡¯s the first time that she realizes that outside she is a college drop out with a bogus job, but here in this world of sword and monster, she might just be someone.


    Now that the tension is lower, Seren starts day dreaming again. Let Nathan play his game and weave his web of allies, her time is better spent practicing. Now that she knows that the paths are part of her, there is no reason not to do a little bit of exploring.


    Seren tugs on a branch to see where it gets her.


    The car turns right on a decrepit road. Brownstone buildings lie abandoned and the smell of the sea reaches them even in this coldest of weathers.


    ¡° This is a reckon mission, nothing more.¡±  Barrett¡¯s voice states calmly.


    ¡°But what if we can save someone!¡± By contrast, Jerry is full of passion.


    ¡°We can¡¯t save anybody if we¡¯re dead.¡±


    Seren intervenes. ¡°We all know what they do to their prisoners. Don¡¯t worry Jerry, if we can rescue someone that will be our top priority.¡±


    ¡°Right.¡±


    Barrett checks the GPS


    ¡°Here is close enough.¡± They park next to a cop car.


    ¡°From now on it¡¯s on foot.  We get close enough to check for Varog essence, if we find it we map the place from afar and check for numbers. As much as possible we do not engage. Are we all in agreement?¡±


    A chorus of voice answers Nathan and they start forward. Seren and himself lead the way, their abilities better suited for scouting and early warning while Jerry and Barrett close the march. Their weapon stay sheathed and yet there is no mistaking their focus.


    They stick out like a sore thumb.


    Barrett breaks the silence.


    ¡°Can you tell if we¡¯re being observed?¡±


    ¡°Huh no I can only detect monsters nearby.¡±


    ¡°If they don¡¯t plan on fighting us I won¡¯t be able to pick them, yet.¡±


    ¡°Then I suggest we head back. Take a turn left here.¡±


    Before they can reach the angle, and use it to loop back to the car, they stop. Nathan is the first to see it. Further down the way, blue and red lights flash on the wall and the sounds of shuffling feet and voices reach them. It looks like someone found the hideout first.


    ¡°Alright let¡¯s leg it.¡±


    ¡°Should we return to the car?¡±


    Eventually they manage to slip back out before the area is cordoned. As they drive away, Jerry stops them to show a newsflash. They gather around the tiny screen, huddling in the cold. They see the anchorwoman, they learn the name of their target: Anton Kohr, suspected of murder and kidnapping. The man is old, with a slightly weasily face but otherwise... So ordinary.


    They see Chauham making an announcement. They learn the man escaped.


    There was one survivor among the hostages this time, and only one suspect dead.


    Seren is the first to wake up from the stupor.


    ¡°Only one Varog, did he run out?¡±


    Barrett interjects:


    ¡°No matter what he will run to ground now, unless he is really desperate.¡±


    ¡°Yeah¡­¡±


    Outside, the blanket of clouds opens and snow starts falling in thick clusters. Winter is here, and with it, a forceful truce.


    They will use this time to prepare.


    And next time, they will be the ones to hunt, and they will get some answers.

 3.6 Valley Forge

    December the 23rd, Nathan''s home.


    Cold air rushing in his lungs, Nathan steps carefully through knee high snow.


    ¡°Ten o¡¯clock, six meters.¡±


    Sarah¡¯s voice comes as whisper through the earplug. She is just as focused. Her drone hovers just above the treeline in almost perfect silence.


    Nathan calls for a halt with a raised fist. Michael stops and covers him while he focuses.


    From behind a tree, he can spot their target, on a simple snowman with a carrot nose sitting in the middle of a clearing. There is another¡­ Below. For an ancient spirit, Gwahin sure likes her basic humor.


    This is too easy. Nathan focuses on feeling and his boots gradually sink in. The aura of Gwahin saturates the place, making it harder to search for the traps. Yes, plural. There is no way that someone as crafty as her would make the exercise easy.


    As expected, there are a few lines of¡­ Something surrounding Mr. Carrot, but that can¡¯t be all there is.


    With a  gesture, Nathan signals Michael and the pair repositions without a word, their footsteps the only noise breaking the silence below the oppressive canopy. Nathan is about to move forward when small traces attract his attention.


    Michael chuckles. By Barrett¡¯s order, he is to remain silent throughout the test.


    Someone must have smoothed the ground, probably Gwahin, but now the light hits just right, showing a circle on the ground.


    To his left, a branch is suspiciously bent down.


    Barrett, you sly dog.This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work.


    Nathan prods the ground with his Makka until, with a snap, a length of rope bursts in a cloud of white powder. The snare fails to grab him or the Makka and soon dangles uselessly from the tree.


    Of course, his magical senses cannot pick up mundane traps, but that doesn¡¯t mean he is completely stupid either.


    The pair makes their way between two strings of magical defenses, ending up only a few feet from the target. Surely there isn¡¯t a third round of traps. Right?


    The orange carrot shines brightly, taunting him. It¡¯s so close.


    Of course there is a third round.


    Nathan focuses again. The feeling of magic assails his senses and he realizes that Gwahin finally found his weakness: if you cannot hide, overwhelm. The clearing is brimming with weavings.


    Nathan can feel a headache coming yet perseveres. There is something behind him, and in front. Little by little, he manages to separate the two feelings before catching a glimpse of the last pitfall. Here, just in front of him, a last circle. This time there is no need for discretion he can just brute force it. Nathan stabs the ground and the weaving is unmade. The aura disperses like mist in the sunlight.


    With a satisfied  smile, he winks at Michael and grabs the carrot. The head of the snowman explodes and the offending vegetable, thus propelled, smacks his face like some miniature ballistic snack.


    ¡°FUCK!¡±


    A little while later and back at the house, Nathan presses a cold compress against his nose. Sarah and Barrett go over her perfomance while Michael plays some game on his phone. His mom is outside, applying the finishing touches to a newly made smithy.


    Gwahin walks up to him, tossing the fateful carrot in the air. She could not possibly look more smug.


    ¡°When will you mortals learn that I am always one step ahead? My victory was never in doubt, and I shall now allow one of you to kiss the sole of my shoes.¡±


    Michael raises one hand to volunteer. All the remaining humans stare.


    ¡°What? I have a foot fetish.¡±


    ¡°Fair enough Michael¡± ,says Barrett¡± and now I¡¯d like us to focus on the exercise.¡±


    He proceeds to go over the entire exercise, explaining to Nathan with a calm and measured voice what he did right, what he did wrong and what could be improved. The team, minus Diana and Seren work on squad tactics and theory according to a training program designed by Barrett. As his associates leave for the guest rooms, Nathan realizes that he feels confident for the first time since this all mess started. They are not quite ready yet, and Seren will have to play catch up when she comes back from Russia, but they are making progress. The mismatched team of survivors is steadily turning into a force to reckon, and there is yet room to expand. They just have to wait for Mirrah to contact them and then they¡¯ll be in business.

 3.7 From Russia with love

    Seren walks out of the customs of Talagi airports feeling like absolute shit. Spending more than twenty hours in transit would be enough to qualify as torture but no, she simply can¡¯t catch a fucking break and mother nature went for a low blow.  That¡¯s right, the Brits are invading and letting their presence known every time she sneezes, which happens quite often with the plane¡¯s air conditioning. That just throws the whole trip into the realm of cruel and unusual punishments..


    Seren must take heart, now there is only a short drive to her father¡¯s dacha through Arkhanglesk¡¯s polar winter scene. Oh but wait, it¡¯s night! That means she can¡¯t see shit and the temperature reaches almost minus fifty.


    All her grumblings die on her lips when she goes through customs to finally find her dad. At the end of the line he waits, carrying her favorite heavy coat and a smile bright enough to lighten her mood. She soon finds herself in his embrace without any conscious decision as if she were five again. Her dad Kyrill is a bear of a man, easily standing head and shoulder above her and she¡¯s no dwarf herself. He smells of wood fire and cologne, a scent that brings back precious memories. A callused hand pats the back of her head with a delicate touch, as if she were a fragile kitten.


    It just feels good.


    She finally steps back and they take the measure of each other. Her father now has crow eyes and a receding hairline, and he is going to fat, but the hard fat of the retired prize fighter. There is a strength to him, a sense of indomitability that both comforted and infuriated her all her life.


    ¡°You look good Renka, tired, but good. I was worried that your mother¡¯s fiery blood would leave you at the mercy of despair, but it looks like there is enough ice in your veins to help you stand straight.¡±


    Seren winces. Dad is not known for his tact.


    ¡°Come, come, you must be tired. Let¡¯s have hot tea at home, and Andrei gave me some Beluga caviar. Your favorite!¡±


    Seren follows him out to their car and enjoys the ride along the Dvina to her family home. Kyrill speaks softly, telling her of her half-siblings, friends of the family, his work on the house. She slowly immerses herself back into Russian, a language she understands it without issue, but when the time to speak comes, words would slip from her mind. Sometimes, she would use the wrong case and see her dad flinch and still he would say nothing despite the pain in his eyes. The mistakes remind him that his daughter, his blood, is a foreigner.


    Eventually they reach their destination, a two stories Dacha, old as sin yet constantly renovated. The lights streaming out of the windows makes her feel welcome despite the biting cold. Raisa opens the door to let them in, the wind buffeting her short blond hair.


    ¡°Hello Raya.¡± Seren smiles at the older woman.


    ¡°Raechka go back in, you will catch a cold!¡±


    Torn between the desire to obey her husband and her duties as a host, Raisa compromises by keeping the door open while they rush inside.


    It is the first time since she developed the paths that she sees the both of them. The paths are currently as white as it gets and the implication brings a smile to her face. Both her dad and his wife would never do a thing to arm her.


    Seren drops her luggage and hugs Raisa without even removing her coat. The shorter woman melts in her embrace.


    Siobhan had been a wild fire, a creature of passion and tension, always going somewhere, doing something and being excited.


    That had not always been a good thing in a mother.


    Even now, Seren suspects that some of her own personality may have been shaped as a defense mechanism against someone who could go from cuddly to snappish in the blink of an eye. The adult in her assumes that a large part of her parents love had been anchored in¡­ Carnality.


    Raisa is the complete opposite. A short if curvy woman, Raisa lives to make people comfortable. She cooks, she cleans, she decorates. By the power of her will, birthdays and parties get organized, the kids have a ride to where they need to go and all the paperwork gets done on time. Compared to the flaming train wreck that was Siobhan, this is positively relaxing.


    Seren cannot blame her dad for remarrying.


    No, really.


    Raisa escapes the hug with wet eyes and apologies.


    ¡°I have hot chocolate ready, just the way you like it! Make yourself comfortable.¡± Then she trots to the kitchen.


    A heavy hand lands on her shoulder; her father smiles warmly. In ages long past, Seren had resented Raisa although even as a rebellious teenager, she had realized that hurting the poor woman was like kicking a puppy. She had refrained, but Raisa had felt it. Under her na?ve mien hides a deep understanding of interpersonal relations and enough sensitivity to tell. As an adult, she now does her best to keep the older woman happy. There will never be deep love between the two, but there is cordial affection for which her dad is grateful.This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    ¡°Thank you Renka, now come! Let us sit near the fire, I have much to ask and I want to do it now, as tomorrow the little ones will have you for themselves. Hahahaha.¡±


    An hour later she falls on her old bed, beyond exhausted but happy. It¡¯s good to feel at home.


    Seren stands in rapt fascination in a small fabric shop in the older part of Arhangelsk. The scissors slide smoothly across the fabric. Snip snip snip. And then again. Her little half brother Alexander pulls on her hand with all his weight, probably bored out of his mind. The two kids have had an exciting morning, but now they are just suffering through the afternoon shopping session, as she had years ago.


    Snip snip snip.


    So sharp is the blade, sliding effortlessly across the linen, as effortlessly, in fact, as Gwahin¡¯s spear sliding in that Varog¡¯s flesh. Smooth. Elegant.


    Snip snip¡­


    Why did it stop?


    The seamstress is staring at her, brows furrowed in uncertainty. She stops for a second before shaking her head. The work resumes.


    ¡°This will make a nice scarf don¡¯t you think, Renka?¡±


    ¡°Yes, it will.¡±


    Raisa nods nervously and hugs Seren¡¯s younger half brother Ivan tighter. Seren must remember that her resting bitch face becomes intimidating when she thinks about killing stuff. Better not alarm her family, they don¡¯t need this right now.


    Now relaxed, the seamstress keeps working. She is an old woman with gray hairs and a skin damaged by years of harsh winters and poor skin care.  Raisa and her gossip and complain as is their wont, about the weather, old age and young people leaving the city. From time to time they stop to look at her but Seren is not interested in the conversation, not to mention that long sentences tire her out. It¡¯s alright, with the paths, she is never bored.


    As they reach the car ten minutes later,  Raisa¡¯s phone rings and when she hangs up, she looks ecstatic.


    ¡°Oh Renka, your old teacher Vassily is at the Dacha, he has come to visit!¡±


    Seren finishes fastening her armor. Vassily is a believer, so it¡¯s a real, old school leather and plate armor, not the fancy high tech stuff. The blade is also heavier than her foil, or even the true steel blade she used. Dull so as to prevent serious injuries, it will still make itself felt on one¡¯s ribs. Seren would know, she has been at the receiving end more than a few times.


    The man himself is still smiling condescendingly. At fifty, he is perhaps not quite as fast as he used to be, but he makes it up with technique, experience and a large dose of ruthlessness.


    He has no idea.


    Vassily is practically unbeaten in his field. Olympians have tested themselves against him and found their skills wanting. The only reason why he is not a gold medalist is his disdain for sport competition. Brushing your opponent with a flexible blade is no victory. He claimed so many times that fencing is and should be a matter of life and death, one¡¯s fate balanced on the edge of a blade.


    To him, she is just that green recruit who only practiced fencing as a sport. How could the American girl understand what it means to put your life on the line?


    Again, he has no idea.


    As take position, Seren ignores the snow under her feet and the cheers from her family. The paths redeploy.


    Vanquish, dominate, cast down.


    The future opens itself to her like an eager lover.


    Is that cheating? No, it is not. As Vassily repeated enough times: Two people, swords and armor, those are the only rules. The world is not fair, why should she restrain herself when he is bigger, stronger and more experienced?


    Most of the paths are dark but that does not stop her. All that matters is a single possibility. What makes her hesitate is the complexity. There is no way to defeat him in less than fifteen moves. That is an enormous amount for a duel.


    Even with her power it will be a close call, as expected of her mentor.


    Seren leans forward into her blade and a flicker of doubt crosses Vassily¡¯s expression.


    They both rush forward at the same time. Seren shifts right and deflects a horizontal cut, the immediately goes on the offensive, thrusting twice before ending on a vertical strike to deflect Vassily¡¯s counter attack. He bull rushes her, trying to overwhelm her with powerful and precise strike. Seren dances around, parrying and deflecting with conservative moves and never leaving an opening. As Vassily thrusts, Seren bats his sword aside, dives and hits up and forward, forcing him back.  She is already on him, pressing him from all side but focusing on quick and precise strikes towards the armor¡¯s weak point. Vassily finds himself trapped in her rhythm of speed and precision. After a few more quick exchanges he manages a guard lock and pushes her back.


    Her feel slip in the ice.


    There is a glint of triumph in his eyes as his bade strikes down and left.


    It is fortunate, that Vassily¡¯s mix of ruthlessness and arrogance makes him so predictable.


    Seren recovers from her false slip, and let the weapon strike her heavily armored shoulder, adding momentum to her horizontal swipe. A full body move that will lead her wide opened.


    Not that it would matter.


    Her own sword catches Vassily¡¯s helmet with a thundering noise of clashing metal. Overextended, the man is sent reeling, rotating in the air before crashing on the ground.


    For a second, nobody says anything then the small assembly erupts in cheers. The enthusiastic screams of the kids mixed with loud exclamations from both adults. Even Vassily is laughing, his eyes wide in disbelief.


    ¡°Hahahaha Renka, you make me so proud! Oh, oh I have underestimated you! I have sold the pelt before killing the bear eh? Hahaha¡±


    Smiling, but still quite smug, Seren offers a hand to her old mentor. There is a knowing smile on his lips when he pulls her close, close enough to speak without being heard.


    ¡°Out of all my students, I never expected you to be the blooded one. We will practice later, yes? There are things I want to show you.¡±


    The kids reach them an instant later.


    ¡°Renka that was so cool!¡± Alexander jumps up and down


    ¡°Renka do you think you could kill a dragon?¡±


    Seren hugs Ivan, too wary to answer that specific question. Both children look at her with blind hero worship in their little blue eyes and she only wishes the adults were the same. Their worry is obvious, barely concealed behind fake smiles. That¡¯s the thing though, it is concern for her.


    ¡°Are you alright daughter?¡±


    ¡°Dad¡­ Should you not be concerned for poor Vassily?¡±


    ¡°Hah! The old man can use the reminder that my daughter is formidable! Although.. Perhaps you would consider staying a bit longer after Christmas? It is safe here.¡±


    ¡°Thanks dad but I will be ok¡­ I promise.¡±


    Her father lets the lie slide. What he doesn¡¯t know and that she has realized is that nowhere is safe for her, not since this the attacks started. One day or another, something will find her and it will be her family that pays the price. She will rest here, then go back and face it with her¡­ Her friends. Yuki, Nathan, even Sarah and the twins, and that strange woman Gwahin. Yes, she will face it and protect them. What happened to Milo will not happen to others.


    ¡°I will be fine Dad.¡±

 3.8 Valley Forge still

    February 2019


    Nathan does his desperate best to ward off the blade, using the uneven ground to his advantage as he retreats. The training spear deflects and blocks as he darts left and right, but mostly backward. Seren finally slips past his guard and slices at his face. At the last moment he uses his last resort illusion to try to slip away.


    Seren barely slows down and still smacks him across the chin.


    ¡°Shit!¡±


    Seren breaks away, looking slightly bored. Nathan checks the helmet for marks but finds none.


    ¡°Are you just playing with me?¡±


    ¡°Hum, sorry¡±


    ¡°Nah that¡¯s alright, not why I asked. I was thinking we should up the difficulty for you. Even my ability to confuse doesn¡¯t work on you anymore.¡±


    ¡°Yeah I follow the paths instead of what I think would work. I mean, your illusion is great I can¡¯t trust my senses at all when you do it.¡±


    Seren looks almost apologetic about beating his ass.


    ¡°Hey I¡¯m not that insecure. What I was thinking though is to add more randomized elements, like Gwahin could shoot you on occasion. You mentioned that you had tendencies to get lost in the fight.¡±


    ¡°Yeah that sounds good.¡±


    They both turn towards the edge of the field where Gwahin is shooting arrow after arrow at Barrett. The man doesn¡¯t even flinch as he stops them a bare few inches from his face. They are training arrows, with flattened head and a soft tip but still¡­ The man is ice cold.This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.


    ¡°Hey guys I was wondering¡­¡±


    Nathan dips and rolls instinctively as an arrow brushes his side. He had started moving even before Gwahin finished aiming towards him.


    ¡°Better. Now why do you interrupt my target practice?¡±


    Not missing a beat, Nathan explains his idea and soon they start fighting again. The difference is obvious, with Seren being much more defensive. The fight is still in her favor but it is not the stomp it used to be, although an arrow to the knee is all it takes to give him the opening he needed. He slips through her defenses and lightly tap her chest piece. She does not react though, apparently the arrows hurt


    ¡°Ooooow.¡±


    ¡°Oh! Is this the end of her adventuring career?¡±


    Jericho looks at them amused.


    Barrett¡¯s voice freezes the smile on her face.


    ¡°If you have enough breath to speak you have enough to start running again.¡±


    ¡°Ow come on old man can you give me a break? It¡¯s like the army in here.¡±


    Silence descends upon the field.


    ¡°Uh that kind of was the idea. At least you¡¯re only here during the weekend.¡±


    By general agreement, Jericho keeps studying and only joins them two days a week or less for some basic training, mostly focused on defense and running away. It has become quickly clear that Jerry is no crazed warrior, she is in fact suffering from the freshman fifteen and frequent hangovers.


    Grunting, the poor young woman resumes her laps around the clearing.


    ¡°Maybe we¡¯re too hard on her.¡±


    ¡°Hey it helps with her pudge.¡±


    ¡®I HEARD THAT!¡±


    The group chuckes lightly, except Gwahin who stares with a hungry look. Nathan takes a note to restock on meat jerky, you never know.


    ¡°Ok so I want to try something. I want to focus on two directions at once, winning and surviving. If I manage that I could focus on one enemy at the time without getting caught off guard.


    ¡°That sounds like a good idea, ready when you are.¡±


    Seren adjusts her guard, frowns and then slowly collapses forward face first into the snow.


    Ouch.


    Barrett and himself move closer and turn her around. She¡¯s blanked.


    ¡°Maybe we do need a break.¡±


    Nathan nods and passes him Gwahin¡¯s weird tea. Seren wakes up and forces herself to drink while he checks his phone for messages. To his surprise, there is one from Jin¡¯s personal line.


    ¡°I got a job for you.¡±

 3.9 Odd Job

    February 2019, Unnamed location, 25 miles North of Nashville, Tennesse.


    The waiting room smells of tobacco and mold. The rickety furniture probably hasn¡¯t been changed since the nineties if the ancient magazines on it are any indication. A far cry from the high tech server rooms and state of the art machinery they saw on the way. Nathan assumes that most business deals are done either at a pricey restaurant or on the futures markets. The fact that they are made to wait makes them the exception, a worrying sign.


    An old woman enters the room with a frown of utter disdain marring her grandmotherly face. She takes in Barrett¡¯s countenance and falters, then her glance reaches Seren and she freezes. Finally, her attention turns to Nathan who smiles politely.


    ¡°Mr. Forrester will see you now.¡±


    They follow her through a corridor to an office overlooking a vast warehouse. The room is made of metal with a glass windows allowing its occupants to follow the gigantic harvesting machines and the men who work on them. A large desk crosses the room, on which seat two massive monitors. The chair is the only luxurious item in this otherwise functional place.


    A man occupies it.


    Well past his seventies, Harold P. Forrester, CEO, founder and owner of Forrester Inc has adopted the look of the Southern gentleman down to the weird bow tie. A well worn felt hat hangs from a coat holder in the corner. Two pale blue eyes inspect them from the top of an white moustache a walrus wound envy.


    The woman leaves them standing in the middle. Forrester dismisses Nathan and Seren and after a few seconds asks Barrett.


    ¡°So which are you.¡±


    ¡°Rangers.¡±


    ¡°Hah.  Danang?¡±


    ¡°Khe Sanh.¡±


    Everybody remains silent and Forrester takes out a gum starts chewing frantically, apparently deliberating. Nathan does his best to keep a poker face although he has no idea what the fuck is going on.


    ¡°My cattle is disappearing without trace. You get ten thousand plus expense if you find out what the fuck is going on, nothing if you fail. Lewis will show you where that latest cattle disappear, and if you¡¯re wasting my time you¡¯ll regret it.¡±


    The man goes back to his work. They are dismissed.


    Twenty minutes later, the trio exits their rental Jeep to stand between two completely barren fields. There is no scarecrow, no wood sticks in the ground, nothing to break the expanse of brown earth and dried cow dung. The place is completely desolate.  Lewis, a young executive with a deprecating smile leans against his own car.


    ¡°Found something?¡± he says, ¡°take your time!¡±


    The man smiles smugly, his voice dripping with scorn and Nathan simply cannot wait to wipe it off his dumb face.


    His two companions wait for him to give the signal. Since he pointed the object of interest to them he is pretty sure they can detect it as well but the decision to go in remains his by common agreement. Nathan focuses his sense and the world comes alive. Besides the object¡¯s aura, which feels like damp earth and fear, there is nothing in their immediate vicinity.


    ¡°Gear up.¡±


    The group gets their equipment from the trunk and prepare with practiced ease. Instead of the armor they used during training, his mother had provided leather duster with a futuristic look, reinforced with chain mail and ballistic weave and completed by a military grade helmet. She had finished just in time for the mission.


    As the armor settles on his shoulder, he frowns.


    Seren raises her brow in silent question, but he shakes his head. They would have time to talk later about what he just found out.


    First, that thing is fucking heavy.


    It should not be surprising considering the amount of metal lining the insides, but still, wow, just walking around in that thing has to count towards cardio training.


    That is not the issue however, the main concern is magic. The armor is infused. It¡¯s subtle but it¡¯s there. How is that possible? Did his mom¡­ Nathan subtly checks the mail. Here and there he can see small symbols sewn in fabric or engraved. Huh. He will have to check later.


    The corporate asshole is a little pale and Nathan quickly figures out why. Barrett is getting his firearm ready.


    There are guns that you could reasonably assume a civilian would use. This isn¡¯t one of them.


    The veteran expertly deploys a carbine with an under barrel shotgun with a speed and precision born of habit. Not only is it black and menacing, but the barrel is lines with silvery lines and engravings patiently applied by Jericho. He completes the sequence by loading a magazine and arming the weapon with an ominous ¡°click¡±.


    At this stage Lewis is looking a little pale around the gills. That¡¯s when he notices Seren¡¯s sword, and his own spear. He staggers back and bumps against his car in alarm. In panic, he grabs his cell phone but when he turns back his eyes get as wide as saucers.


    The three are gone.


    The fields stand empty.If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.


    When it comes to magical concealment, monsters tend to be lazy. So far, only Gwahin has shown actual efforts to mix natural camouflage with the ¡°look somewhere else¡± and ¡°forget me¡± effects. The entrance to the cave was so badly hidden that Seren is pretty sure someone would have stumbled upon it by accident at some point.


    Well, stumble into it would be more accurate.


    The tunnel¡¯s entrance is a two meter wide hole in the ground with a soft downward slope leading down for a few meters before getting flat. The tunnel itself is clearly artificial, although Seren herself has no idea how it was made. It¡¯s not like engineering is her forte. The weird thing is the wooden beam support spread at uneven intervals. Either the builders were drunk or they instinctively knew where they had to reinforce to maintain structural integrity. She doesn¡¯t know which option is the worst.


    Barrett takes the lead and uses a mounted flashlight on his ginormous rifle, while Nathan¡¯s own is fixed under the barrel of his pistol. Seren acts as rearguard, flooding the tunnel with a mag light.


    ¡°This is the right place.¡±


    Barrett points downward. The tunnel has tracks, lots of tracks. Most of them are recognizable as cow, if the occasional cow shit wasn¡¯t a hint already, but there are others as well. They look like children shoes.


    ¡°I¡¯d say the targets are small humanoids. At least four but could be as high as fifteen, I reckon. Rules of engagement?¡±


    Nathan turns to Seren.


    ¡°Tit for tat.¡±


    She nods, they have prepared for this moment. If they don¡¯t know what they¡¯ll find they will rely on Seren¡¯s sense of danger to decide whether to engage or not.  If Seren says ¡°Red¡±, they fight. It¡¯s like a safe word for monster hunting.


    They set out.


    After a minute, Seren realizes that this is no small cavern but a veritable complex.


    After five minutes, something strange happens. The tunnel slightly twists and curves around, reducing their visibility and making her feel lost. The world is reduced to their breathing and footsteps, the smell of damp earth and the walls around them.


    Aren¡¯t those getting smaller?


    She can still walk upright, so probably not my much but she feels oppressed. No, that¡¯s not it. It¡¯s just an impression. Her nerves must be getting to her.


    Barrett¡¯s raised fist interrupts her thoughts. His torch shines on a recess in the tunnel, slightly to their right. The three move forward to inspect his findings. Three rays of light fall on a small opening, barely the size of child. It would be facing towards their back if they were to continue to follow the tunnel.


    So that whatever took the cows could sneak up on them.


    She doesn¡¯t want to see this. She doesn¡¯t want to be in that opening. She could get stuck in it, her body constricted until either thirst or whatever built this ends her agony. They should seal it. Actually they should seal the whole fucking plain. Dump a truckload of mustard gas then collapse the entrance.


    ¡°Seren.¡± Nathan whispers.


    ¡°¡­Yes?¡±


    ¡°Draw your sword.¡±


    ¡°Huh?¡±


    Nathan fixes her with his chocolate eyes. His expression remains calm, no not calm: confident. Assertive.  Even as he speaks, his light shines on their back while Barrett covers the front.


    ¡°Right.¡±


    Seren draws the true steel sword. Its handle lodges itself comfortably in her hand. She knows the  weight the sharpness of it. The familiarity settles her and reminds of who she is.


    She nods at Nathan who accepts it without comments. They set out again, though this time she stays in the middle.


    After what felt like hours, but probably closer to ten minutes, the tunnel widen into a dark maw. Once again Barrett signals but this time, he doesn¡¯t stop.


    ¡°Breach.¡±


    They rush in a larger space and immediately turn right. Their lights sweep the cavern while they keep their back to the wall.


    They stand in a cavern. The open space is roughly circular and the low ceiling is covered with sturdy support beams made of wood. There are two entrances on the opposite side and the whole place contains only three things. The first is the smoldering remains of a large fire pit. The embers still shine red and provide the only artificial light they saw since they entered this wretched place. The second item of interest in a small pile of dirt, from which emerges a half buried horn. The third she cannot see yet, but she can definitely smell. There must be something around with enough feces to fertilize one of old Forrester¡¯s fields.


    Still no trace of whatever took the cow.


    ¡°Barrett I need to check the pit.¡±


    Barrett nods and they move forward in triangle formation.


    Nathan inspects the pit, then the ceiling, the dirt pile and finally, a seemingly empty corner of the room. That must be the latrines.


    His hand grips a blackened bone from the ashes and turns it around.


    ¡°Alright.¡± Nathan says in a low voice.


    ¡°From the leftover auras and the rest we can deduce this. There are seven of them. They are the size of a child and carnivorous, with sharp teeth. Some of the bones have been broken to reach the marrow so we can expect basic tools and probably weapon. They are smart enough not to kill the cattle but to lead it here first. There¡¯s barely enough here for a cow so most of the animals must be somewhere else.¡±


    ¡°Hostile?¡± Barrett asks.


    ¡°We¡¯ll rely on Seren to be sure but I¡¯m going to go with yes. Probably territorial too.¡±


    ¡°Ok.¡±


    ¡°I think we should switch to a more defensive formation. No breaching. We stay close, and one person always checks the back. If we get attacked we fight defensively and engage at range and if they swarm us we fight back to back.


    ¡°Roger that.¡±


    ¡°Fine by me.¡±


    Nathan walks back to their entrance and marks the passage with white paint. Just as he¡¯s done a noise breaks the silence.


    Seren jumps in freight as a screech like an insane puma echoes through the cave systems. The humans group up, back to back.


    The silence is deafening.


    ¡°Something changed. They know we¡¯re here.¡±


    ¡°We should move fast, force them to react.¡±


    ¡°Alright, most of the cattle went that way. Let¡¯s go.¡°


    Is it that those men don¡¯t know fear? Seren shakes her head in disbelief. They don¡¯t even know how many creatures they could face. There could be hundreds of those down there, thousands! Crawling around and under, ready to burst from the wall like an alien from a chest cavity, swarming them until they are drowned under a squirming wave of idsgustung thing and eaten like Sarah¡¯s arm, piece by piece. Or worse. They could just cave in a section and let them rot, entombed under a metric shit ton of dirt until they choke or start eating themselves.


    ¡°Seren.¡±


    Are those tunnel walls closer? They must be getting closer. Even the oxygen has to be rare here. She has to breathe harder. Maybe there are toxic fumes.


    ¡°Seren!¡±


    ¡°Yes! What!¡±


    Barrett¡¯s hand is on her shoulder and the human contact is a little bit soothing. His blue eyes drill into her mind, not unkindly.


    ¡°You don¡¯t like tunnels, do you?¡±


    ¡°¡­No.¡±


    ¡°Use that danger sense of yours.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m always using it.¡±


    ¡°Well what does it say?¡±


    ¡°¡­ We¡¯re fine. For now.¡±


    ¡°Exactly. So listen. I¡¯m old. I¡¯ve been at this for a long, long time, and I¡¯ve made my share of mistakes but I¡¯m still alive. I¡¯m still alive despite the efforts of others. Now I¡¯m telling you, Seren, that there is no one else I would trust at my back to do what we¡¯re doing. You guys are gifted and you still trained hard for this. I believe in you, else I wouldn¡¯t be here. So chin up.¡±


    Right. She has her sword and the paths.


    ¡°Hum Seren.¡±


    ¡°Yeah?¡±


    ¡°You know I can feel auras. So, basically, as far as I can tell you¡¯re the deadliest thing in those tunnels right now.¡±


    ¡°Oh.¡±


    Well she sure doesn¡¯t feel like it. This place is giving her the creeps. Big time. They are right though, she is panicking for no good reason.


    ¡°Alright let¡¯s go.¡±


    They follow cow tracks in one of the tunnels in silence and the way does eventually start to shrink a bit, forcing them to lower their head a bit. The sound of their breathing is still the only thing breaking the eerie silence. How long have those things been digging to make such an extensive systems. Months? Years?


    Generations?


    How comes they only surface¡­ Shit.


    ¡°Red!¡±

 3.10 The warrens

    The world is a pocket of darkness stabbed by paltry rays of light. Seren frantically points front, back and at one side in silence and they brace themselves. The seconds go by agonizingly slowly. Adrenaline scours her veins and the beat of her heart rings in her ears like in a cathedral. They are coming, they are coming they are coming they are coming¡­ Now.


    Something clanks against Barrett¡¯s shield and behind her, Nathan¡¯s gun roars, then the wall in front of her collapses and a thing rushes at her with a strident screech. Seren sees the pale glob of a cranium, yellowed talons and too many teeth to count. It¡¯s coming for her face. Panic freezes her spirit and breaks her connection with the paths. The colors mix and match in a psychedelic pattern that makes no sense and as her lower brain takes over, she lashes out.


    A kick with her armored boot smashes into the thing¡¯s chest while its weapon, a makeshift spear, scraps against her chest. An instant later another shape extricates itself from the side wall and the first thing bounces back. Seren remembers the eater¡¯s claw on her arm and its fetid breath. No, please, not again.


    Never again.


    Seren screams in fury and swipes with her blade held in to hands, putting her fear, her hips and her will to live into the strike. A clang of metal later, the thing¡¯s weapon is sent flying but there are still the talons and the teeth. And just a tiny problem.


    She dropped the lamp.


    In a last ditch effort, her frenetic mind reconnects with enough paths to show her a way and she dives forward, putting all her weight into it. The true steel sword punches into something that hisses and Seren keeps pushing until she¡¯s sure the blade is digging into packed earth.


    Something tingles at the edge of her consciousness, embedded here by two months of constant practice. Ah yes, there is another. She refocuses on survival and immediately rolls left, leaving the stuck blade where it pierced her target. She can¡¯t see. She can¡¯t see where her enemy is. She closes her eyes and relies on the paths, just like she had when defeating Nathan¡¯s misdirection. Instinct makes her raise her arms in defense. Something smashes against the reinforced leather and something else draws a fiery line on her cheek. She grunts in pain. She falls backward. Something heavy lands on her torso. With one hand she grips the things wrist. The other hand flays, but she only grasps air.


    A flash of light and the red line of Nathan¡¯s monstrous spear slashes obscurity to reveal the same white skull, the teeth and two red eyes flashing with a mad anger. It is enough.


    The other hand forms a fist and she punches, and punches, and punches again. There is no technique, only animalistic anger. The bone gives, the creature no longer moves and still, she doesn¡¯t stop.


    Seren comes to when her paths scream she is three seconds away from dying.


    ¡°Red!¡±


    Seren¡¯s fearful voice is followed by frantic signs. They will come from three directions. As planned, Nathan will cover their back.


    Nathan places the Makka in a harness and takes out his gun. This is no longer a brand new Sig. This is a firearm he has fired, cleaned and disassembled countless times. Engravings twirl and dance along the handle and the cannon and although it may not down a Varog on its own, by fuck will it hurt plenty.


    Nathan aims the gun at the tunnel, fit firmly planted into the ground. A second later he sees movement.


    A pallid humanoid creature with some sort of apron jumps up from a prone position and is just about to hurl a spear when the first bullet catches center mass. The tiny red circle is joined by two others and the thing falls down. Nathan doesn¡¯t see it, he has already switched targets. The small monsters rush forward.


    There are definitely more than seven.


    Nathan manages to down another, wound a third and shoot a last one in the head before the creatures reach him, in one movement he brings out the spear and swipes horizontally, knocking a club away and slitting the throat of an unlucky thing. It falls with a gurgle.


    The Makka starts glowing like ember and the monster just keep coming so Nathan just keeps stabbing, using his superior reach and the Makka¡¯s incredible edge to get in and out. He lets a poorly aimed spear bounce on his shoulder and one of the creatures aiming for his unprotected flank finds itself stabbing at the air.


    In only a few seconds, there are five corpses in a circle around him and his enemies step back warily. A grunt of pain from Seren makes him turn around and smack the thing off her, giving her the opening she needs. When he turns around the remaining creatures are in full retreat.


    That¡¯s right .


    ¡°They¡¯re falling back!¡±


    Garrett doesn¡¯t even sound out of breath as he reloads his gun with practiced ease.


    They eye their surrounding warily.


    ¡°What¡¯s that rumbling sound?¡±


    It turns out that the tunnels are not, in fact, dug by hand.


    ¡°Everyone through the wall, now!¡±If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    Seren crawls in first, soon followed by Nathan and finally Barrett who seals the entrance with his shield, and not an instant too soon.


    The ground shakes as something massive speeds by. Nathan can only see the flash of obsidian colored shell and far too many legs for comfort. After only a few seconds, the rumbling stops and silence reasserts itself.


    ¡°Alright I think it¡¯s gone.¡±


    ¡°Now I see why there are so many side tunnels.¡±


    ¡°Hum guys could you get out if it¡¯s gone? Please?¡±


    They leave the enclosed space to find that the creatures are gone, but so are their corpses and incidentally, Seren¡¯s light. The floor is clean and smooth besides foot prints, as if the strange creature passing by had picked up everything.


    ¡°What happens if we meet it again?¡±


    ¡°We run to the closest side passage. I¡¯ll keep them in mind as we move on.¡± Says Barrett.


    ¡°Even if we can kill it somehow, the corpse would still crash into us with that speed. That means if there is no opening we¡¯re screwed.¡±


    ¡°Not if I focus only on survival, that should get us enough time.¡±


    Barrett nods.


    ¡°Let¡¯s take ten, drink and eat something and then move out. Seren let me clean that gash on your cheek.¡±


    They all settle down to recover. Nathan wonders if he should ask Seren if she¡¯s ok. He didn¡¯t know she was claustrophobic.


    ¡°I just hate caves.¡±


    ¡°Was I that obvious?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s pretty obvious that you would be worried. I mean, I endangered us all. I just didn¡¯t think it would be that bad. I¡¯m sorry.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re doing fine.¡±


    They both turn towards Barrett.


    ¡°You¡¯re doing fine, kids. Trust me.¡±


    ¡°But I panicked¡­¡±


    ¡°Let me tell you a story. When I trained to jump with a chute, we had this guy in the squad who was afraid of heights. Harris was his name, I remember. Well, here stands Harris at the top of s platform, ready to jump into a cushion six meters below while shivering like a leaf. The instructor did not egg him. He just stood there and told him: Harris, I don¡¯t give a shit if you piss yourself while you jump, I just care that you do. Now you will do a speech and when I say jump, you jump. My man Harris was confused, ¡°a speech?¡± , he asked. The instructor just stood there and told him to make it a good one. It could recite a fairy tale if he wanted, he just had to talk. ¡±


    As Barrett gets into his tale, he starts smiling. His pale blue eyes shine in the limited light.


    ¡°So my guy Harris starts screaming Lincoln¡¯s famous speech, ya know, the four score and seven years one. He starts getting into it and when the instructor gives the signal, down he goes. From that point on he would do that every time he jumps, getting louder the closer he got to the edge. You should have seen the officer¡¯s face during our final assessment. The whole squad was yelling with him by that point.


    Anyway what I¡¯m trying to say is that all that matters is that you¡¯re here and you covered us. Nobody cares that you were scared shitless doing it. We can¡¯t ask for more than you already did.¡±


    Nathan nods in assent.


    ¡°Huh. Thanks. I¡¯m not going to start singing but I see what you mean. I think I¡¯m better now.¡±


    ¡°Alright. Shall we?¡±


    They resume their walk. Nathan does his best to keep his ears peeled even though Seren will detect any incoming weird burrower first. He just can¡¯t help it.


    They walk for a good twenty minutes and come across a few other circular rooms, mostly empty but for traces of rudimentary camping. Nathan makes sure to mark their entry tunnel and he makes an effort to memorize which one they come from, just in case. Eventually the tunnels start getting bigger, with more regular support beams until at the bend of a curve, they see light.


    A strange luminescence paints the walls blue as the mouth of the tunnel leads to a cavern. The sight is absolutely breathtaking.


    An area the size of a plane hangar ends with a rectangular opening into a circular shaft so immense they can barely see the opposite side. Mushroom-like growths emit the colorful light they have seen, pushing back the darkness and letting them see that the shaft is dotted with black openings. Even from where they are, they can see that it goes up for at least a kilometer, possibly much more and there is no hint of the sun. Nathan¡¯s mind reels with the realization that they would have to be deep inside the earth for this to make sense, yet the tunnel they followed was mostly horizontal. That can only mean one thing.


    ¡°What¡­ How?¡±


    Nathan turns to a flabbergasted Garrett.


    ¡°We¡¯re not in fucking Kansas anymore, Toto.¡±


    Although the site itself is fascinating they have a more immediate concern. Seren is pointing at the primitive village nestled in the warehouse sized opening and more precisely, to a gathering of their humanoid creatures smack down in its middle. A relatively tall figure extricates itself from the swarm and walks towards them with confidence. It is the only monster wearing robes and on its head sits a painted cow skull decorated with some sort of pigments and in its hand, a staff glowing an ominous purple.


    ¡°Looks like we found the shaman.¡±


    ¡°Should we not engage?¡±


    ¡°No, something is happening and I would prefer not to face the whole village.¡±


    Nathan steps out of the entrance and stares the incoming party down, hands on the Makka and pistol holstered. Seren and Garrett take position around him, ready to leg it to the tunnel¡¯s safety at the first hint of foul play.


    Nathan can feel it. Just like his first encounter with the Stalker or Gwahin¡¯s rebirth, now is a moment that will change the course of his story one way or another. This a momentous occasion, a confluence of danger and opportunity. The weave flutters and vibrates in anticipation. A suggestion caresses his mind, a question that can lead to glory as easily as it leads to death.


    Are you game?


    The answer is clear in his mind.


    Fucking bring it.


    No amount of tactics and precision will let a mass produced gun kill a fully magical entity. For now, humans are like natives invaded by a superior nation and, Nathan thinks, we all know how it ends. The invaders get land and resources, the natives get the shaft.


    This will not stand.


    Nathan and the others will be pioneers at the head of a new generation of hunters and this planet will remain theirs. So yes, he will master the rules, he will play, and he will win.


    The shaman stops a few meters in front of him and the rest of the tribe¡¯s warriors form a half circle. There must be around twenty warriors or hunters and some of them still bear the stigmata of their first encounter with the group. They eye the humans warily. The other half circle is made up of Seren and Garrett with their hands on their weapon. They stand relaxed without a care in the world, their posture a statement of supreme confidence.


    The shaman gesticulates and heckles the crowd with high pitched exhortations. That¡¯s fine. Nathan waits until he¡¯s done and turns to them with a rictus of triumph.


    Nathan slowly raises his finger and the tribe¡¯s eyes follow it to the improvised cow pen at the edge of the village.


    Then his spear is aimed at the shaman.


    We came for the cow, thieves.


    Give them back, or else.


    The shaman spits a few words and moves forward.


    Seren whispers.


    ¡°Nathan¡­¡±


    ¡°Shhh, I know, I can feel it.¡±


    Nathan walks a few steps.


    Still he shaman is grinning until, with sudden speed, he brings the staff forward. A ray of purple blasts from it, goes through Nathan and smashes the wall behind it.


    Then reality shimmers and Nathan appears a step away, his empty arm thrust forward.


    The shaman looks incredulously at the spear jutting from his chest. He falls down without a noise.


    Nathan casually walks forward and grabs the Makka. Its engravings shine with the crimson of freshly spilled blood.


    ¡°Anyone else? No?


    ...


    ...


    That¡¯s what I thought¡±


    The crowd parts before them in silence as the trio walks to the pen. Behind them, a light scuffle signals the start of the fight for leadership.


    A dozen pair of bovine eyes focuses of them.


    ¡°Hum now what.¡±

 3.11 Tunnel filler

    Garrett drags on the leash of the slightly nervous bovine, complaining about city folks with their smart phones and caramel lattes, can¡¯t handle cattle to save their fucking lives.


    ¡°I should have grabbed that guy¡¯s staff to get a good look at it.¡±


    ¡°Whatever floats your boat Nate¡± Seren says.


    Nathan laughs, Seren chuckles, Barrett grumbles and the monster riding the head cow cackles.


    Wait a minute.


    ¡°What the fuck are you doing here?¡±


    The thing is smaller than most of its kind, and slightly malnourished. Scabs and scars cover its pallid torso, hinting at its place in the pack hierarchy.


    ¡°Me! Your buddy!¡±


    The trio ponders this statement for a while. Nathan is not alarmed, Seren would have felt danger. The fact that he himself did not sense the intruder is explained by how weak it is, and the leftover aura on the cows themselves.


    ¡°You¡­ want to be my buddy?¡±


    ¡°Yes! I help! I clean! I make spears! Man tribe many strong, with tractors. Cows! Females have tits like melons!¡±


    Seren coughs discreetly.


    ¡°I¡¯ll let you handle that one I got to focus on the paths.¡±


    Garrett ignores Nathan¡¯s imploring looks.


    ¡°Diplomacy is your thing.¡±


    Alrighty then.


    ¡°I haven¡¯t agreed to anything yet. Why do you want to join my, huh man tribe.¡±


    ¡°Man tribe many strong, with¡­¡±


    ¡±Ok ok I get it. What can you do for us?¡±


    ¡°I build quick and sturdy! Best tunneller in the tribe!¡±


    ¡°Seren shudders and spears Nathan with the ¡°You can¡¯t be fucking serious¡± look. Nathan is undeterred.


    ¡°If you¡¯re the best how comes you¡¯re so scrawny.¡±


    ¡°Huh big purple, is shaman you wasted, not like me. I son of previous chief!  He wants me dead but I best tunneller, can hear pathmakers from many far!¡±


    ¡°Pathmakers? The big black shelled thing?¡±


    ¡°Yes!¡±


    ¡°And you say you can hear them from far away?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°Are any on their way here?¡±


    ¡°No. One already came today.¡±


    ¡°¡­¡±


    ¡°¡­¡±


    ¡°¡­ So?¡±


    The thing stares at Nathan like he¡¯s a bonobo in pajama.This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    ¡°So no more come for many cycles. You think path makers like cows? Not many.¡±


    ¡°Thank fuck.¡± Adds Seren, ¡°I was getting a headache. Give me the mana tea.¡±


    Seren swallows a mouthful and winces.


    ¡°It¡¯s a¡­¡±


    ¡°Finish that sentence and I¡¯ll shove the bottle up your arse.¡±


    ¡°¡­Nice afternoon we¡¯re having. So anyway, uh, what¡¯s your name anyway?¡±


    ¡°Orog.¡±


    ¡°Ok assuming you work for us, what do you want in return?¡±


    ¡°Netflix and cow!¡±


    ¡°Netflix?¡±


    ¡°You see tunnels? Many boring. I want Netflix, see drama and maybe chill, when female come. Maybe human tribe female, with big titties!¡±


    Seren and Nathan are flabbergasted.


    ¡°Huh¡­¡± Says Seren, ¡°You seem to have an unhealthy obsession for the female human body.¡±


    ¡°You big warrior, many strong, I bet females like you!¡±


    ¡°Excuse me?!¡±


    Nathan does his best to maintain a poker face.


    ¡°How did you know that we¡¯re all males?¡±


    ¡°No titties like melon! Hank said it makes true woman.¡±


    ¡°Who the fuck is Hank.¡±


    ¡°Hank of the man tribe, rides tractor! Many important.¡±


    ¡°You learned about the man tribe from the workers here?¡±


    ¡°Yes! Man tribe many rich. Cows! But dumb. They don¡¯t see Orog. Orog listens, and learn.¡±


    ¡°Well that explains quite a bit. Alright I¡¯m not saying yes I got to make a call, as soon as we get some signal.¡±


    ¡°Nathan baby! How did it go?¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re fine and we succeeded, although I have a question for Gwahin. Is she around?¡±


    ¡°Wait are you serious? You leave me behind worried an all and the first thing you do is to ask about someone else? I was worried sick!¡±


    ¡°Mom¡­¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t you Mom me do you know how long I spent forging your armors? I even had Gwahin help me with the leather and that¡¯s all the thanks I get?!¡±


    ¡°Moooooom!¡±


    ¡°Not a hint of gratitude. That¡¯s today¡¯s new adults huh, entitled and uncaring! I was so scared for you¡­¡±


    ¡°MOM! I¡¯m super thankful and I¡¯ll let you know in person, but we¡¯re still at the edge of the warrens and I need advice.¡±


    ¡°Oh, you¡¯re still on the mission. Alright I¡¯ll get her give me a moment.¡±


    Nathan waits patiently while Barrett follows Orog¡¯s lead, placing the content of his backpack in strategic locations.


    The sound comes distorted in his ear. First, his mom hums to herself then mumbles: ¡°Where is it? Hah. Here¡± before humming again. Then comes a very loud ¡°thwack¡± followed by a hiss that sounds suspiciously like a pissed off Yol, a sound that would strike fear in the heart of a veteran hunter. The animalistic sound is cut short and soon Gwahin¡¯s voice fills his ear. She¡¯s munching on something.


    ¡°Yesh?¡±


    ¡°Gwahin, what are you eating?¡±


    ¡°Cold cuts with mustard. Your mother has poor bedside manners but she certainly knows her food. Anyway what was it? You are interrupting the twenty hours of sleep per day I require to be in a pleasant mood.¡±


    Nathan bites back a retort, as they are on a schedule.


    ¡°I found short, pallid, carnivorous humanoids with bald skulls that live in caves.¡±


    ¡°Could be any seven species I heard about.¡±


    ¡°Not too bright.¡±


    ¡°They¡¯re called Vissear. Why do you ask?¡±


    ¡°We found a new recruit. I want your input before I allow the thing to relocate.¡±


    ¡°Hahaha how cute, you¡¯re asking for my permission?¡±


    ¡°Well, yeah I mean that¡¯s the polite thing to do.¡±


    ¡°Is it female? They are notoriously promiscuous and could potentially mate with humans.¡±


    Nathan¡¯s mind supplies him with helpful images of distended bellies, saggy breasts, and the smell¡­


    ¡°I¡¯ll pass and no, it¡¯s a male. A tunneller.¡±


    ¡°Even better! Bring him in.¡±


    ¡°Are you sure, I expected you to be more, well¡­¡±


    ¡°Reluctant to share my territory?¡±


    ¡°Yeah that.¡±


    ¡°Is the wolf reluctant to share his territory with the deer?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t tell me¡­¡±


    ¡°The tunneler will connect your property with the warrens, then more will come and those will provide me with a bit of sport.¡±


    ¡°You intend to hunt down sentients?!¡±


    ¡°Yes and as well I should. Vissear cannot regulate their own numbers.¡±


    ¡°Uhhhh fair enough.¡±


    ¡°I cannot express how pleased I am that you are developing an ecosystem. I would have asked you in a couple of years when I finalize assimilating your neighbor¡¯s lands.¡±


    Nathan splutters, thinking about the retired couple and their summer home.


    ¡°Relax, I left their house intact and I won¡¯t hurt them.¡±


    Barrett taps Nathan to signal that he¡¯s done. Further away, Seren is fending off a cow who is frantically trying to lick her face, for some reason.¡±


    ¡°Alright got to go. Last question. What¡¯s with their obsession with boobies?¡±


    ¡° A male Vissear who has impregnated a female sometimes partake of the milk himself.¡±


    ¡°Please excuse me while I upchuck my energy bars.¡±


    ¡°Knock yourself out dear host, and now if you¡¯ll excuse me I need my beauty sleep.¡±


    Before Nathan hangs up his mom¡¯s voice grabs his attention back.


    ¡°So we are getting a new not human guest?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°Is it by any chance the hunky, helpful counterpart to Gwahin? Someone who can help me carry steel ingots?¡±


    Nathan stares back at Orog. The creature scratches his scrawny ass before sniffing his finger thoughtfully.


    ¡°Mom I don¡¯t know how to tell you this¡­¡±

 3.12 Payday

    Seren believes that a good job brings you safety and money, and a great job brings you a sense of fulfillment. Nothing is quite as fulfilling as being absolutely fucking badass.


    The little trio emerges from the earth like a devil from its box, startling an impromptu gathering. She can see old man Forrester with that prick Lewis, a few employees as well as a pair of law enforcement type. They all arrived with their own wheels if the gathering of muddy pickups is any indication. Their eyes, already wide like saucers, threaten to fly out of their orbits as soon as the first cow starts emerging.


    ¡°Well I¡¯ll be.¡±


    A tough as nail woman in a sheriff outfit shakes her head in disbelief. Forrester counts the beasts then spits a gum.


    ¡°There¡¯s five missing.¡±


    ¡°They were eaten.¡±


    The statement causes some consternation.


    ¡°By what?¡±


    Nathan grabs behind himself and brings Orog to the front. The diminutive humanoid waves, squinting in the midday sun.


    ¡°Hi chief Forrester. Many greetings.¡±


    Seren thinks that if they open their mouths any wider they¡¯ll pull a muscle.


    The sheriff woman turns to her assistant.The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.


    ¡°Tell me, Dawson, you seeing this?¡±


    ¡°Yes chief.¡±


    ¡°Am I high?¡±


    ¡°No chief.¡±


    ¡°You positive?¡±


    ¡°Yes chief.¡±


    Forrester casts an annoyed glare and takes another gum.


    ¡°That the cattle thief?¡±


    ¡°One of many and before you ask, this one¡¯s ours.¡±


    ¡°Young man, I¡¯m paying you to solve my problem. What guarantee do I have that my cows won¡¯t start disappearing again if there are more of those?¡±


    Nathan smiles genially.


    ¡°I thought you¡¯d never ask. Barrett, if you please?¡±


    Barrett takes out what a kid would recognize as a detonator. It even has the red button. A press later, an explosion shakes the ground. Seren can feel the shockwave on her back.


    She doesn¡¯t turn around, none of them do. Cool people don¡¯t look at explosions.


    ¡°There, the way to the warren is collapsed.  That should block the way for the foreseeable future.¡±


    The sheriff is the first to react.


    ¡°Well, I would arrest everyone for possession of firearms, explosives etc, but I can imagine the report and I don¡¯t want to end up in the loony bin. Harold you got this under control?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s fine.¡±


    Forrester walks up to Nathan. He reaches in his shirt pocket and pulls a folded check, which he places somewhere in Nathan¡¯s tac vest.


    ¡°You got a business card, son?¡±


    ¡°Yes sir.¡±


    It is the day that Seren realizes that Nathan does, in fact, keeps business cards when going into mission.


    ¡°I¡¯ll believe you for now. If your claim holds I¡¯ll spread the word. If you fucked up you¡¯ll regret it. We clear?¡±


    ¡°Yes sir.¡±


    ¡°Then we¡¯re done here. And y¡¯all can get back to work!¡±


    The trio walks to their rented car and take off, leaving the poor mundanes pinching themselves. Seren thinks that half of them will quit drinking and the other half will get absolutely plastered.


    Welcome to the party.


    She smiles and relaxes into the seat. With the adrenaline finally wearing down, her body lets her know she is thoroughly wiped out and that it will show its displeasure in the morning. At least now she can finally relax.


    ¡°Warrior Seren, you are so many strong. You show Orog stabby stick, yes?¡±


    For fuck sake.

 3.13 Blood pit stop

    ¡°Excuse me?¡±


    The gas station attendant jumps with a little squeak at Nathan¡¯s voice, before fumbling her phone under the desk.


    ¡°Hum, welcome! How can I help you?¡± she says with a guilty voice.


    ¡°Do you have any jerky?¡±


    ¡°Oh yeah! In the back just next to the beer.¡±


    Mathan feels like laughing. After so much shit, the teenager¡¯s freckled face and bashful look are a refreshing change, a hint of normalcy in an otherwise crazy day. The fact that she has not been jaded by months of retail work helps.


    ¡°Thanks.¡±


    As promised there is a jerky stand filled with local products. Some of it will go to Orog, and the rest he will keep for Gwahin. The Yol is still in a growth spurt, and overtook Sarah a week ago.


    ¡°Hello, and welcome! How can I help you?¡±


    Nathan wonders how long it will take for the teen to get bored shitless again. Fifteen minutes, at most, once Barrett and him¡­


    Nathan freezes.


    A vile aura smashes against him, cold and implacable. Nathan had not felt so much scorn since the stalker first laid his eyes on him. The cashier gasps.


    For a moment, Nathan is overwhelmed by the same disbelief and horror he had experienced so long ago, when he found his father¡¯s corpse: the feeling that he is living a nightmare, because the world would never be so cruel.


    It passes. Nathan is no longer a child, and he knows the world is not cruel, it just doesn¡¯t care.


    In complete silence, Nathan trots the back exit. He needs weapon. A quick glance towards the entrance stops him in his track.


    There it is again, the profound impact of watching something that shouldn¡¯t be.


    A month earlier, local newspapers and even a few channels had shown the face of Anton Kohr, kidnapper and murderer. Some had compared him to an accountant or a math teacher with his bushy gray hair and weasely face, Nathan had thought it was bullshit. The two accountants in his firm were a bodybuilder and a goth girl respectively. All his math teachers had been ex-hippies. No, to him Anton Kohr looks like the kid diddler, the nazi bureaucrat who orders the death of thousand from behind an exceptionally tidy desk. In short, Anton Kohr looks like the slimy asshole and sociopath he is.


    And he is standing in the middle of the store in the store with a smug grin, heedless of the nightmare at his side.


    All otherworldy creatures they have encountered so far have been at least somewhat humanoid. This isn¡¯t one of them. From a bulbous head standing taller than a linebacker emerge three inverted legs ending in sharp points. A pair of arms currently holds the struggling cashier while a single scythe-like appendage hangs menacingly, all coming from the side of the creature. Its body is the color of obsidian and the only variety is a collection of pustule-like globes that look suspiciously like eyes. The smell is revolting.


    Fuck.


    Seren is asleep. She is asleep in the car and she is not in immediate danger, and so they don¡¯t know. Nathan is alone, and that asshole has a hostage.


    What do.


    Nathan takes up his gun to line a shot but before his arm is even raised, the monster twists and extends a single oversized leg to block the shot. A tortured gurgle escapes the cashier as she is dragged across the counter.


    ¡°You! Turner, you fucker, you ruined my life, you piece of shit!¡±


    Nathan opens his phone behind him with one hand and presses a series of buttons from muscle memory alone. An instant later he pockets it and move forward. He needs to buy time.


    ¡°I think siding with cannibals ruined your life.¡±


    ¡°I had no choice! All of you judging me, thinking you know what I have to do! My responsibilities! And even then I would have told them to leave you alone but no! You had to fuck up my plans to save a whore, a catholic and your precious kike friend.¡±


    Wow, ok.


    ¡°So you¡¯re racist too huh, I thought you were just a pedo.¡±


    Kohr is growing more and more agitated. His flaccid face jiggles with each spiteful sentence.


    ¡°With all those sluts wearing makeup like ten dollars hussies instead of being home helping their mothers I might as well. All of you degenerates have been fucking with me long enough! I¡¯m going to show you now, show everyone that they should respect me! And fear me! Now, you little turd, you¡¯re going to tell me where my tattoo implements are or I¡¯ll butcher everyone around you, starting with that little bitch.¡±


    The black entity gives a weak shake and the teen whimpers in pain. A trickle of blood is already staining her cheap uniform and her face is purple. The monster is slowly choking her. More worrying, it is always interposing its captive between Nathan and its master, even before he starts moving. Either the thing is fast, can read thoughts or it can see the future.


    Either way it¡¯s bad.


    ¡°I don¡¯t carry them on me.¡±


    ¡°But you know where they are?¡±


    ¡°I think so.¡±


    Korh takes out a small glass sphere from his pocket and inspects the clear surface.


    ¡°Huh, you spoke the truth. Color me surprised.¡±


    ¡°I won¡¯t help you if she dies though.¡±


    Nathan just needs more time and so does the girl. Kohr just scoffs.


    ¡°Like you would care about anyone but yourself and your depraved friends. But you made a mistake¡­¡±


    He smiles ominously.


    ¡°You assumed I needed your consent.¡±This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    The abomination throws the cashier his way.


    Can¡¯t dodge, or she could die.


    The girl¡¯s body hits his own with a dull thud and he is smashed backward and down. By some miracle he manages to protect his face and the girl¡¯s neck.


    It still hurts.


    He grabs her under the shoulder then into a firearm carry, then rushes to the back entrance. It hurts too much to even breathe but he can¡¯t stop. She is crying.


    ¡°Get him! Don¡¯t let him escape!¡±


    He kicks the door open and emerges in a small concrete square behind the gas station. In front of him is a small copse of trees, fields to the right and left. There a few other buildings but they are on the other side.


    He sprints along the left wall, finally able to drag a few painful breaths in his lungs. He probably doesn¡¯t have anything broken but the girl needs help. As he reaches the front of the station he hears gunfire. Barrett¡¯s rifle. There is a crash and the wall buckles outward behind him.


    Nathan doesn¡¯t turn, he runs forward and emerges on the parking lot and gas pumps at breakneck speed. Barrett¡¯s rifle turns to him but lowers immediately. The man has some real trigger discipline. Seren stands beside him looking tired but resolute.


    ¡°The fuck was that?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s Kohr, he got something with him.¡±


    Nathan lowers the girl as delicately as he can manage against a SUV. Barrett hands him his armor and spear. He takes out a compress and presses it against her wounded neck.


    ¡°Here, maintain pressure ok?¡±


    She nods weakly and he stands back up. Besides them, there are only two other cars. An older couple is already legging it, the woman on her phone, but a bunch of college students is just gaping at them and even filming the scene. Fucking idiots.


    There is a quality to the silence when Kohr¡¯s aberration walks on the lot with the man himself right behind it.


    ¡°You assholes can¡¯t run forever, just face me like true men if you think you¡¯re so tough!¡±


    Nathan realizes a few important points now that he has a second to breathe. First, Kohr¡¯s weakness is that this irredeemable piece of human garbage really never shuts up, the second is that the black creature is not hiding. At all.


    The college students are looking at the monster in disbelief with their phones out.


    Well it doesn¡¯t matter.


    ¡°The thing will block our bullets we need to flank it and plug Kohr.¡±


    ¡°Alright, crossing your line.¡±


    Barrett runs to the right and himself to the left, Seren rushes forward, blade drawn.


    ¡°Paths are acting weird.¡±


    They probably are. It¡¯s time to do some tests.


    Nathan pulls the trigger and the bullet dings against the thing¡¯s scythe, he does it again with the same result. Barrett¡¯s single fire bumps harmlessly against one of the hands.


    Nathan does something he was told to never do. He shuts his eyes and fires where he thinks the head would be.


    Three bullets later, there is a shriek. Nathan stares back to see one of the red eyes closed and dripping white fluid. If it were fast or if it could see the future it would have stopped this bullet like the others before, which means that the shot landed because Nathan himself didn¡¯t have line of sight.


    ¡°It¡¯s in our head, literally.¡±


    His speech is cut short as something is about to land on him.


    Kohr¡¯s vile aura washes over him and he ducks right by instinct, and not a moment too soon.


    A glass vial splashes against the bitumen and spreads with an acidic hiss. Kohr is lobbing small glass spheres at them. Nathan jumps back up and keep trying to flank the monster. Seren has now fully engaged the being but apparently her blade cannot penetrate the thick skin of its arms. Another flash of aura warns him that something is wrong.


    Strange, skeletal appendages emerge from the acid pool and whip around. Nathan sidesteps it at the last moment, his shot going wide. A curse indicates that Barrett wasn¡¯t so lucky and a quick glance confirms that his leg is stuck. With a cackle, Kohr throws another vial. It splashes harmlessly against Barrett¡¯s shield.


    Nathan reloads. Several of his shots now would have hit the asshole were it not for his grim bodyguard. The creature always blocks the shots with one of its numerous extremities even while being harried by Seren and Barrett both. Worse, he cannot shoot inaccurately or he could hit Seren.


    Nathan has two clips left. Fleeing is not an option or the girl is dead, besides he has a chance to kill Korh here and now.


    There is nothing he can think of that will protect against mind reading, the only way to win somehow, is to overwhelm the creature.


    Nathan charges forward with his spear and strikes at the alien body with perfect form.


    Seren screams ¡°No!¡±


    With contemptuous ease, the scythe appendage cuts down on Nathan¡¯s left hand. A blinding pain makes him flinch and the spear wavers. One of Barrett¡¯s bullet pings uselessly against the body and the creature¡¯s two remaining hands fend off Seren.


    The scythe backswings.


    In desperation, Nathan closes his eyes and misdirect while still falling forward. It is enough. The spear hits the body of the monster with enough strength to skewer a Varog.


    The impossibly sharp spike reaches the creature¡¯s dermis and¡­ Bumps back, leaving behind a benign cut, not even a fingernail wide.


    A piteously small drop of black ichor rolls down.


    Well, fuck.


    Maybe because of the surprise, maybe because of the pain, the scythe misses Nathan¡¯s jugular and hits him in the shoulder instead. The armor holds. Both the creature and Kohr are shrieking now and the thing boots Seren with one of its leg. She manages to block, and still the strength propels her backward.


    There is a single instant when the creature¡¯s extended leg reveals Kohr¡¯s lower body.


    Through the pain and the fear, Nathan shoots. Only three bullets make it before the leg retracts but his training pays off: one of them clips Kohr in the foot.


    Their enemy lets out a girly scream, soon joined by a demented howl.


    ¡°You moron! You are supposed to protect me!  Idiotic¡­ Thing! Save me! Save meeeeeee!¡±


    The monster grabs its master and falls back. Garrett finally frees himself from the bony tentacle by hammering it with his gun¡¯s stock. As he aims again, Kohr¡¯s hysteric voice sounds one last time.


    ¡°Here, a parting gift!¡±


    Nathan watches helpless as a rain of vials falls down on the asphalt. At the last moment, Garrett¡¯s interposes himself with his shield up. An instant later, Seren rolls to safety.


    The parking in front of them erupts with disgusting bony tentacles. They lash and they trash and they whip around, shattering glass and bending metal in their aimless fury.


    From within the safety of Barrett¡¯s transparent half dome, the trio witnesses the obscene forest in silence. Seren collapses and grasps frantically for her mana tea flask. Garrett helps her swallow it in silence before she falls unconscious. Nathan removes his left glove.


    The pain almost makes him faint.


    This is not the low burning pain of migraine or the devouring feeling of a second degree burn, it is a sharp pain, blinding white. It cuts through his mind like a sharp knife, severing his grasp on awareness. His hand is clothed in a red glove. His ring finger is also shorter.


    Not by much, there is still a bit of fingernail left, but it is shorter.


    ¡°Fuck¡­¡±


    Nathan uses his right hand to find a compress. The first pocket is empty. Strange. The second pocket still contains one and he manages to wrap it around the¡­ the stump¡­ The white cloth is soaked red on contact. The pain is beyond any words he knows


    Nathan takes shallow breaths and clings to consciousness. The pain washes over him like a tidal wave. The fading adrenaline saps his strength and his will. The ordeal leaves him weak and shaking. Terror makes him gag. A distant voice in his mind tells him he¡¯s in shock. It doesn¡¯t help.


    Nathan rests his head against the cold concrete. He fights against the agony. He does not allow himself the succor of unconsciousness, because something nags him, the impression that he is forgetting something important. Not the Orog, it is still in the car. So what, exactly, has his exhausted brain omitted?


    When he manages to open his eyes again the parking is deserted. The remains of the bone tentacle litter the ground in small yellow heaps. Seren is on the ground, in fetal position and Barrett is gone. Sirens yell in the distance.


    Wait a minute.


    The girl.


    Nathan stands up slowly. Everything hurts so much. After some efforts he manages to remain upright and half walks, half lurches to the car.


    Garrett is standing in silence.


    ¡°Why aren¡¯t you helping her?¡±


    The teen comes into sight. Her skin is white as snow. A red colored hand still grasps a saturated cloth. Nathan grunts.


    ¡°You have to maintain the pressure, silly, I told you!¡±


    Nathan grabs a third compress and kneels in the pool of blood. He reaches for the neck.


    ¡°There.¡±


    It takes him a few seconds to register the lack of bleeding, the half-lidded eyes marred with tears and the utter lack of movements.


    ¡°No¡­¡±


    Silence.


    ¡°But why? I carried her out. I gave her the compress.¡±


    Barrett puts a hand on his shoulder. The hand is heavy. It grounds him.


    ¡°They got the artery. I¡¯m sorry.¡±


    ¡°No, wait, wait. That makes no sense. I gave her the compress, and she nodded. She was alive. She answered me.¡±


    Silence.


    ¡°She¡­ She was just there? So why?¡±


    Silence.


    ¡°I fucking got her out! I carried her and all! We made it outside!¡±


    Silence.


    The hand is still there. It is still there when law enforcement arrives. It only lets go when they are shackled and taken.

 3.14 The Old Guard

    They took his armor. They photographed his hands, and his face, so that the reddish brown of congealed blood could be shown later to those who were to judge him. They bandaged his hand and gave him pain killers. They brought him to a room and locked him to a chair. Then they left him alone.


    Nathan understands at a base level that he does not deserve to grieve. The blond woman who came wailing out of a rushing car had that right. Maybe the officers had that right. He doesn¡¯t. He has left her to die.


    Perhaps he had no choice.


    Probably.


    It doesn¡¯t matter though. The heart wanted to save her, the heart got involved, got invested.


    Nathan failed.


    The pain he is enduring is not just physical. The weave churns and roils, more obvious to him that it was even only a week ago. Nathan has tried, Nathan had failed and now he is being punished.


    And he is grateful for it.


    The weave might be filling his chest with the icy fingers of regret but the intensity of it is cathartic, in a way. There is no awkwardness or anxiety, only the grief itself. That is why, even though he knows he doesn¡¯t deserve it, Nathan takes what the weave gives.


    Kohr caught him off guard, bloodied him, but he survived and through the pain he will be made greater. He had not lacked purpose, but he had certainly lacked focus. No longer. They have trained enough. Now is time to hunt. The weave has created a deficit and Nathan will fill it with the death of the offender.


    A sound grates his ears, as annoying and meaningless as a mosquito¡¯s flight.


    ¡°¡­Yes?¡±


    There are two people seated in front of him, a man and a woman. They look like shit, although probably not as much as he does. Bags under the eyes do not compare with maimed finger after all.


    The woman may have shoulder length black hair and piercing dark eyes, the man may have the build of a quarterback and an honest face twisted in anger and disgust at the death of a child. Nathan simply doesn¡¯t care. His supply of fucks to give is gone.


    ¡°We found you next to the body of one Nora Philipps¡­¡±


    Nora.


    ¡°¡­Covered in her blood with your own discharged firearm¡­¡±


    The man grabs an evidence bag containing his trusty teaser, also covered in blood. He has to clean it before the metal is damaged.


    ¡°¡­ Know what I¡¯m thinking? I¡¯m thinking you¡­¡±


    Wonder how the two others are doing. Seren is out cold so at least she will be spared this farce.


    ¡°¡­ Got caught in the crossfire¡­¡±


    Orog managed to hide, no surprise. The red Makka and Seren¡¯s true steel sword were not among the evidence so either he managed to snag them or the little shit stole them and ran away, in which case he¡¯s dead meat. Nathan¡¯s Makka is part of him, he will always be able to find it.


    ¡°¡­ Just want to understand¡­¡±


    The woman is speaking now.


    ¡°¡­ Planned an ambush or just came upon them and¡­¡±


    ¡°I am not interested in talking to you. Please bring me back to the cell.¡±


    Both cops scrunch their face is anger. The man leans forward menacingly over the table, no doubt to curse and swear and threaten.


    Nathan borrows from the little core of rage deep inside of his being for a minor misdirection, just a smidge to make his seem immobile while his face moves only a hand span away from the man.


    ¡°Listen here¡­¡±


    ¡°No.¡±


    Both of the clowns in front of him jump in freight.


    Nathan moves back with another misdirection when the man lashes out with a reflexive haymaker. The nerves, tiredness and anger probably getting to him.


    The attack, of course, misses completely and his partner swears. They look at each other.


    Nathan just raises a mocking eyebrow and nods at the camera in the corner. The big detective turns red with shame under his colleague¡¯s furious gaze


    Nathan clangs his chain.


    <hr>


    The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.


    Nathan wonders why they put him in the same cell as Barrett. The other two occupants just took a look at his blood stained clothes and wisely decided to retreat to the furthest corner.


    ¡°First time here?¡±


    Barrett¡¯s smile is sad but genuine.


    ¡°In the slammer, I mean.¡±


    Nathan scoffs.


    ¡°I just hope it¡¯s not going to become a habit.¡±


    Barrett laughs softly. Nathan stares at the ceiling, unable to sleep. Until the weave is done making him pay, he will stay awake and endure.


    ¡°Have you ever read Hobbs?¡±


    ¡°The Leviathan?¡±


    ¡°Yes. You probably know how it works. One of my teachers was obsessed with this guy when I was in high school. Ya know, back when dinosaurs were still alive. Anyway the gist of it is, the many sacrifice their right to use force to give it to the government, the Leviathan, so that it protects them. So that the state of constant war and lawlessness ends. The only dudes who can rightfully fuck you up wear uniforms. If anyone else tries, the guys in uniform come for them as well and they always win. Always. That¡¯s how it works, or at least that¡¯s how it works in countries with a reasonably strong state. Well, what I was trying to say is, we are here because we are breaking this. Even if all we did was mostly legal, law enforcement¡¯s first reaction will always be to arrest us, because nobody should break their monopoly on legitimate physical violence.¡±


    ¡°I did not figure you for a philosopher.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not philosophy, it¡¯s political science. Did you get my point?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not sure¡­¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re here because you gave Chauham the finger. He or one of his ilk will come now. Play nice or next time will be the same.¡±


    Nathan tries to muster some anger, and fails.


    ¡°I¡¯ll think about it.¡±


    ¡°Good. Now. Would you like to know why I joined your little squad and even followed your orders? Even though it grates me that I have to defer to toddlers who weren¡¯t even born when I was knee deep in guts killing VCs?¡±


    ¡°Really? After a month of tactful questions that you evaded every single fucking time, you want to tell me now? Here?¡±


    ¡°So you don¡¯t want to know?¡±


    ¡°Of course I do.¡±


    ¡°Good. Now, we were both told that hunters can use a variety of magic to fight, but not us. We are still too green, and yet there is that one thing that we manage to do. Right?¡±


    ¡°Mmmmh¡±


    ¡°Yes, that one thing we do instinctively. You ever wondered why? Why that one specific thing?¡±


    ¡°¡­ I¡¯m not sure.¡±


    ¡°Really , after all those lessons you still don¡¯t get it? Let me spell it for you. The weave lets us have our greatest desire.¡±


    Nathan¡¯s pondering silence is interrupted by a small voice, coming from a young Asian man with reddened eyes.


    ¡°Can I have some of what you guys are taking? Please?¡±


    Silence.


    ¡°Nevermind¡­¡±


    ¡°Where was I? Ah yes. Do you know how Seren¡¯s mother died?¡±


    ¡°¡­ I never asked, and she never offered.¡±


    ¡°She died in a sky-diving accident. Seren was there. She was fourteen. Her father took her in. She came back to the US a year and half later. She has been independent ever since.¡±


    Silence.


    ¡°Control, what she seeks is control. And she got it. She¡¯s probably the most powerful of all of us not just because her power is stupidly strong, but also because she pursued it with a singular focus.¡±


    ¡°¡­ And what do I seek?¡±


    ¡°Understanding. Not in the intellectual sense, but in the emotional one. Empathy increased to supernatural level. To see with your heart what you eyes cannot tell.¡±


    Nathan slowly turns his head to stare at Barrett¡¯s permafrost eyes. Sitting on the bunk with relaxed ease, the veteran looks more like Caesar than ever before.


    ¡°This is not the time of the place for this discussion.¡±


    ¡°And I won¡¯t go on. You got my point.¡±


    ¡°How does all of this relate to you joining us?¡±


    ¡°My need is, you guessed it, protection. Let me tell you something. Anyone with any measure of authority in the army, from NCOs to generals, knows that they are sending people into danger. We train them, we equip them, we lead them, we do our very best and they still die. That¡¯s because of how war works. Any schmuck with two hours of training and a rusty pistol can kill a man with enough luck and if there are enough assholes, it will happen. And it did. I lost people again, and again, and again, because I can shoot a bullet but I can¡¯t stop one, and no amount of training will save a man with a sharpened stick in his gut in the armpit of the jungle, you see?¡±


    ¡°¡­ I¡¯m sorry.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t be. I reenlisted because of that. I had the belief that if I could train enough people, make them as sharp and seasoned veterans then I would save lives. Every soldier I kill is also one less person shooting at my people. I spent my entire adulthood on this.¡±


    There is no a frightening intensity to Barrett and Nathan finally remembers he is in the presence of a man with a kill count matched by very few, and fewer among those still draw breath.


    ¡°It¡¯s kinda ironic don¡¯t you think? At the twilight of my life I finally, finally get the power to stop bullets and spike traps. I should be worrying about where I¡¯m going to fish and the state of my prostate, and yet here we are.¡±


    ¡°But we failed. We failed to protect¡­¡±


    ¡°Aye, that we did. As I knew we would, at some point. Just like Seren got captured anyway, and therefore controlled. Just like you still don¡¯t know how to handle Chauham. We failed. All of us. It was bound to happen.


    That¡¯s what you younglings and greenhorns don¡¯t get. I knew that shield wouldn¡¯t be enough from the start. As long as you try stuff, you will also fail at it. No matter how hard you train and how much you prepare, you will always face failure on the field. Too many variables. I know that, I know it very well, but you still have to accept it. So I will teach you. If you never fail, you have never tried anything meaningful. Because I can, because I¡¯m good at it, and because what your generation will face will be the just as horrible as mine did except if you lose, we all die. I¡¯ll protect you and hold you hand until you don¡¯t need me no more. ¡±


    The weave has now released its hold on Nathan and he feels terribly empty.


    ¡°I don¡¯t want it. I don¡¯t want to learn how to accept failure.¡±


    Nora. A pool of blood.


    ¡°I don¡¯t want to see this and feel nothing.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not what I¡¯ll teach you dumbass. I¡¯ll teach you how to see it and get back up afterward.¡±


    There is a moment of silence while Nathan digests all of this.


    ¡°¡­ Thanks Barrett.¡±


    ¡°John¡±


    ¡°Thanks John. I mean it.¡±


    ¡°And you¡¯re welcome. I would have done this before but I wasn¡¯t sure.¡±


    Sleep starts to creep on Nathan¡¯s mind. He yawns.


    ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    ¡°The weave, it makes both of you¡­ Different. What do you know about conditioning?¡±


    ¡°Like¡­ Packages?¡±


    ¡°No you birdbrain, mental conditioning.¡±


    ¡°Uuuhhh.¡±


    ¡°It modifies your perspective. The way you think changes on a fundamental level. Every soldier has it to some extent, or they wouldn¡¯t shoot.¡±


    ¡°Huh?¡±


    ¡°Why would you shoot at someone you¡¯ve never met in your life, if you didn¡¯t have your belief system changed? We are taught to control our emotions and avoid overt aggression. Then someone gives you a gun and tells you to kill some random dude. That¡¯s hard. Conditioning helps with that. Even then, some people hesitate. Not you though, you went straight for the jugular.¡±


    ¡°Varogs aren¡¯t people.¡±


    ¡°And Kohr?¡±


    ¡°Kohr ain¡¯t people either.¡±


    ¡°See that¡¯s what I mean, the ability to see a human and instantly strip them of that status. Usually it¡¯s bad news. But then I saw you with the girl.¡±


    ¡°Nora. Her name was Nora.¡±


    ¡°Yes, Nora. I saw you cry Nathan. I knew then, that you were one of us.¡±


    ¡°One of you?¡±


    ¡°People who fight to save rather than to destroy. I had to be sure, you see? Now I am. You¡¯re safe with me Nathan, don¡¯t you worry. Sleep now. I¡¯ll stay right here.¡±

 3.15 Truce

    Chauham looks frazzled. For him that means a few hair out of place and the hint of a five o clock shadow. Bloodshot eyes. Not much, but Nathan can tell. They are currently gauging each other while Eriksen stands aside like a gargoyle.


    Chauham pinches the bridge of his nose.


    ¡°I could keep you there, you know?¡±


    Nathan does not answer. The painkiller they gave him ran its course and the aches from the accumulated fights are taking a toll. He clenches his jaw.


    Chauham sighs deeply then leaves the room. A moment later he comes back with a glass of fresh water, which he places in front of Nathan along with two pills. He takes out keys and frees Nathan¡¯s hand, then sits down. With an open hand, he invites Nathan to proceed.


    Nathan drinks the entire glass and the pills with them. Gwahin would have something to say about it but she is not there, and losing his temper is the worst that could happen right now.


    Besides, the pills are a peace offering.


    ¡°I have questions.¡±


    Nathan nods.


    ¡°Is Kohr after you?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°Do you know why?¡±


    ¡°He wants us to recover something we took from him.¡±


    ¡°¡­ Can I ask what it is?¡±


    ¡°Something he used to make Varogs almost impervious to harm.¡±


    ¡°Varog?¡±


    ¡°The eaters.¡±


    ¡°Well, shit. Did you give it to him?¡±


    ¡°No.¡±


    Chauham is about to talk again when Eriksen discreetly clears his throat.


    It sounds like a medium sized avalanche.


    ¡°I want him stopped.¡±


    ¡°So do I.¡±


    ¡°¡­¡±


    ¡°¡­¡±


    ¡°Truce?¡±


    ¡°Truce.¡±


    The precinct kindly made a room available to them. Seren sleeps in a corner on a comfy couch. Her armor, sword, three flasks of mana tea and five milkshakes (three empty) sit on a stained coffee table.


    Another table looks like a fast food banquet complete with stained paper and greasy wrappers.


    The last, and largest table hosts four men and a pile of equipment.


    Nathan sips on his drink and winces. Eriksen frowns.


    ¡°My only comfort is that no orange died making this abomination.¡±


    Nathan bottoms the glass up anyway, swallowing every drop of the sugary  liquid. Beggars can¡¯t be choosers.


    ¡°That thing is heavy.¡±


    ¡°Home made chainmail and leather armor.¡±


    ¡°Where did you get that?¡±


    ¡°My mom.¡±


    ¡°¡­¡±


    ¡°¡­¡±


    ¡°You go into battle wearing an armor made by your mummy?¡±


    ¡°Yeah and it saved my life twice already.¡±


    ¡°Is your mom some kind of smith?¡±


    ¡°Yes she is a scholar in middle age technology and forges weapon and armor as a hobby. She also takes commissions.¡±


    Chauham appears thoughtful for a moment.


    ¡°So it¡¯s genetic then.¡±


    ¡°Hey!¡±


    ¡°Hum. Can she make more?¡±


    ¡°As I said, she takes commissions. I¡¯m sure you two can work something out.¡±The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    As an afterthought he adds:


    ¡°No ripping her off, no sob story and no threats.¡±


    Chauham appears vaguely offended. Before anything happens, Eriksen takes out his gun from the evidence bag.


    ¡°People should not turn weapon into art. Guns are a tool of violence, nothing more.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry Eriksen. That approach won¡¯t work against what we face.¡±


    Erkisen¡¯s voice carries more regret than Nathan would have expected.


    ¡°No¡­ I suppose it won¡¯t.¡±


    Chauham picks up the red Makka with curiosity.


    The spear has changed. The needle end has turned into a flattened blade giving it an edge. Nathan twirls the spear around. The shaft is smoother. If anything, it looks even deadlier than before.


    ¡°Mr Turner?¡±


    ¡°Yes?¡±


    ¡°Please don¡¯t do that.¡±


    Nathan realizes that the spear that had previously been in the agent¡¯s hand now easily rests in his. He doesn¡¯t remember picking it up. Whether it is the blood it drank, the ordeal they faced or something else, the spear has grown. It feels more alive than before.


    Chauham claps his hands, instantly gathering everyone¡¯s attention.


    ¡°Alright, I propose that we share information on the target, then we make a tentative plan and list the actions to be taken and the resources we need to gather. Agreed?¡±


    They nod.


    ¡°We are gathered together today so we can put a stop to a vicious criminal, so let¡¯s put aside our pride, and¡­¡±


    Seren grunts, snorts, then turn on herself in her makeshift bed. A second later, a cute ¡°Nyuuuu¡± can be heard coming from her corner.


    ¡°Right¡± adds Nathan with a smile ¡°We¡¯re not at a political rally. Let¡¯s just get this started and keep our voices down.¡±


    As a gesture of goodwill, Nathan starts by sharing what he knows about Eaters in general, confirming that he had faced them at his house, although he doesn¡¯t mention the Henkel twins. He then goes to explain that he had been hired to retrieve an item that he found out later belonged to Kohr as well as its function. Kohr suspected he would be involved and managed to follow them. Nathan recounts the fight and both Chauham and Eriksen shake their head in shock at the mention of mind-reading.


    Chauham knows that Nathan is keeping it close to the chest, yet surprisingly he doesn¡¯t pry. Then it is his turn to share, and even Nathan has to admit that the man is a consummate communicant. He is clear, precise and to the point.


    His task force managed to identify some of the Varog through the IDs given to the van rental company. They followed financial trails to more targets, however the hunt was made difficult by the fact that there is no organization or regularity in the money transfers. Most of the newly turned humans had sent funds on an ad hoc basis. They only found Kohr by tapping in the security cameras at a cash pickup location. Once that was done though, they were able to corner him at one of his hideouts, rescuing one hostage. Kohr still managed to flee. There had been no Varogs.


    Nathan knows that it is wishful thinking to believe that he has completely ran out of troops. If it were the case, he wouldn¡¯t need the tattoo tool. It¡¯s more like that his sociopathic mind deemed his cannibalistic minions as unreliable. He is probably also on the back foot.


    ¡°Did you find anything about why he can use magic?¡±


    ¡°No, Kohr¡¯s background is full of holes, it is even possible that his entire identity is fabricated but if it was, the archives are simply too old to find out for sure. The important thing is that he has been flying under the radar his whole life. Nobody ever paid attention to him. He doesn¡¯t have a criminal record. ¡°


    ¡°That¡¯s why you want him alive?¡±


    ¡°Yes. I believe you when you say you are new at this, but he isn¡¯t. We need to find out who taught him, who his associates are and take his resources as our own. I do not have to tell you that our understanding of the situation is severely limited. Speaking of which, do you know about the range on the mind reading?¡±


    ¡°No. I don¡¯t even know if it goes beyond anticipating our reaction. I suspect that it is based on line of sight though.¡±


    ¡°How do you figure?¡±


    ¡°The eyes.¡±


    ¡°Mmmh. I will take note of everything, but before we have to face that creature we first need to track Kohr down. Now that I know more about this I expect him to grow desperate. We have seized a significant amount of his assets. I am confident that he doesn¡¯t have much tucked away.¡±


    In Nathan¡¯s mind, the lithe figures of Agrias and Katagrias twist and smile. Unless he has completely misjudged the House they will have gone after his resources as well.¡±


    ¡°He could go after you again but I expect him to use the easier path.¡±


    ¡°Hostages.¡±


    Chauham casts a curious glance at Nathan.


    ¡°Yes, you are absolutely correct. He will want to make a deal and for this he will need bargaining chips. Do you have an idea who he could be going for?¡±


    ¡°Sarah and Patience are the most likely targets. He could try Seren too, though that wouldn¡¯t work.¡±


    ¡°Or your mother.¡±


    If Kohr goes after her, Nathan will skin him alive, one string at a time. His agony will make all those pathetic ust-nach Varog¡­


    ¡°Nathan!¡±


    ¡°Huh. John?¡±


    Nathan releases his death grip on the faintly glowing Makka. Got to relax.


    ¡°She should be fine, she¡¯s at my house right now.¡±


    ¡°Right. Your mother lives with you huh¡­¡±


    Nathan has the distinct feeling that Chauham is testing the line by being an obnoxious prick without becoming overtly hostile. An awkward silence covers the room, only interrupted by Seren¡¯s soft sighs. Barrett is the first to break it.


    ¡°So if I understand the situation, you guys expect Kohr to try and kidnap someone. Then what? Is there a plan?¡±


    ¡°It would be best if we catch him during the attempt. If he gets any more desperate he may just turn to mass terrorism.¡±


    ¡°Is there any solution that doesn¡¯t lead to more victims? Like tracking him?¡± says Nathan.


    ¡°Suddenly you care about collateral damage?¡±


    ¡°You had my number and you didn¡¯t call. Seems to me like you can¡¯t work with people unless you¡¯re the top dog.¡±


    ¡°Gentlemen, please!¡±


    Eriksen moves his massive frame forward. Nathan swears he can hear the table creak and groan under the impressive weight.


    ¡°We are all tired, so maybe we should meet again after we¡¯ve had a good rest and some ideas about a workable plan. Alright?¡±


    Chauham and Nathan grudgingly nod. Barrett doesn¡¯t move. He is mechanically cleaning his rifle.


    ¡°Good. In the meanwhile we¡¯ll get in touch with Patience Willow-Smith, Sarah Picard and Diane Turner to offer our protection, and keep tracking Kohr. He¡¯s bound to make a mistake at some point. Mr Turner, you and your associates should focus on the creature guarding him. So far we do not have any counter-measures.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll think of something.¡±


    ¡°Good.¡±


    Chauham and Eriksen pack up and soon leave the room. Nathan purchases plane tickets home and joins Barrett in cleaning duty. No need to wake Seren up now.


    ¡°How do you stop something that¡¯s in your head?¡±


    There is only curiosity in Barrett¡¯s voice, as if he were certain that Nathan would come up with something. Nathan wants to scream at the world that he¡¯s just a normal guy out of his depth, that he¡¯s been faking confidence and moving forward because he has no choice, because there is nobody else he trusts with¡­ All of this. He wants to say that he doesn¡¯t know and that he¡¯s weak, and that someone more competent would have found the guy before he starts murdering random cashiers out of spite. Instead, he grits his teeth and swallows the nervous block in his throat.


    ¡°It¡¯s like spying. We prevent entry, we send false signals or we overwhelm.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ve tried to overwhelm, that didn''t work too well.¡±


    ¡°Yes, that¡¯s the last resort. I have a few ideas related to false signal I think would work, and there is something else.¡±


    ¡°Yes?¡±


    Nathan leans forward and whispers:


    ¡°I think I know a way to track Kohr by ourselves.¡±

 3.16 Like herding cats

    Nathan¡¯s living room used to be barren, dusted twice a year to accommodate visiting family members.  Now it feels like the lobby of a hostel that caters exclusively to secret agents. His own favorite couch is mostly left alone out of respect for the owner, he assumes, but here and there are the marks of their frequent visitors. Jericho¡¯s spare charger and tools are piled haphazardly in a corner. Table games and puzzle boxes have been replaced by John¡¯s notes and teaching materials. Seren left small bottle of liquid she uses to clean her blade. A carefully folded piece of cloth lies besides. Even Michael has weapon stashed all over the place. The only outliers are Patience and Martin, who have distanced themselves since the Varog assault.


    The main door opens and closes. A few hesitant steps announce a well known presence and Nathan smiles.


    ¡°I¡¯m here.¡±


    Sarah¡¯s elfin face pops from the corner and gauges his mood and that is enough to make him smile. Sarah is a great listener and her ability to read moods made her an invaluable asset in his team, back in after-sales. Now she uses that skill to help balance the eclectic bunch that is the staff and helpers of Seekers Security. Plus Gwahin.


    The diminutive woman walks up to him before sitting in his lap. Nathan places a proprietary hand around her thin waist and brings her closer to him as she leans against his chest. Her rich black hair teases his nose. Her shampoo speaks of sunny afternoons and tropical islands.


    ¡°I hope I¡¯m not interrupting your brooding, oh forsaken knight of the land?¡±


    ¡°You arrive just in time for my hourly tragic sigh, as I watch longingly into the distance.¡±


    ¡°What distance? It¡¯s five meters then a wall of trees.¡± She adds teasingly.


    Her hand brushes against him and he becomes much more aware of her, her weight on him and how warm she is.


    ¡°What happened in that gas station to make you so depressed? I know it¡¯s not just your finger.¡±


    ¡°There was a young girl. I failed to save her.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not your fault though.¡±


    ¡°Yes, yes, I know and John already coached me. I¡¯m not feeling guilty I¡¯m just feeling¡­ Sad.¡±


    Sarah¡¯s hand takes his own and she looks at the bandage around his ring finger. Even with the wound covered, she cannot miss the shortened length. Nathan knows he¡¯s made of meat but seeing what was left when the bandage was changed was a harrowing experience.


    ¡°You¡¯ll need more that that if you want handicapped parking space you know?¡±


    Nathan chuckles, the motion makes Sarah¡¯s body bounce against his own. Their contact grows even more intimate. She lifts a finger and traces the edge of his jaw.


    ¡°I know what I should do, as a good friend.¡±


    ¡°Oh?¡±


    ¡°I should make sure that all your remaining extremities are still working in a way that celebrates the fact that we¡¯re all still alive.¡±


    She turns doe eyes towards him, her cute face the very picture of innocence.


    ¡°How on earth could we do that?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll think of something.¡±


    Nathan takes the giggling woman in a princess carry and walks upstairs.


    The sun is starting to set when Gwahin makes her presence known. Nathan is reclining in the living room¡¯s biggest couch. Sarah is taking a cat nap next to him. The Yol walks in like a pleased cat, a smiling Michael in tow.


    Nathan takes in the newcomer¡¯s disheveled appearance and flush faces.


    Gwahin notices their freshly showered appearance and glowing faces.


    ¡°Huh.¡±


    ¡°Huh.¡±


    Gwahin does look womanly, if you don¡¯t mind the weirdness, so it¡¯s not that shocking to him. That said, there is no way that he will let Michael get away with it.


    ¡°So Michael¡­ Tossed any salad recently? ¡°


    ¡°Nah dude, just gave your garden a good plow.¡±


    Nathan should have guessed that Michael has no shame. He admitted a foot fetish in front of a full room after all. It¡¯s almost as bad as being a furry. And he fucked a tree creature. Does that make him a planty? Does that kink even exist?


    ¡°When you two children are finished?¡± Interrupts Gwahin.


    ¡°Good. Now, Nathan, I am so proud of your first serious battle scar. First kill, first spell, and now first mark of surviving a deadly adversary. Truly, I am pleased with your progress. That is not why you asked us to gather though, is it?¡±


    ¡°No. There are implications to Kohr¡¯s attack. I will explain when everyone is here. Wait, are you feeling this?¡±


    A noise like the clink of a cup on a plate and the familiar feeling of thorn and trickery flood Nathan¡¯s mind and he smiles widely. Spring has come, at last.


    Nathan rushes to his bedroom in time to find the top of his pot jump in the air. An instant later a small weight bounces against his torso then flies around like a blur.


    ¡°Hahaha I¡¯m so glad to see you. Wait¡­ You¡¯ve grown!¡±


    Toothy smiles and twists. He is now taller, although his limbs are still spindly. His bark coat is more elaborate and some green can be seen here and there. His aura is vibrant and alive in a way that Nathan cannot find words for.This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.


    ¡°Let¡¯s go downstairs, you must be starving.¡±


    The mood lightens when Toothy fleets from one person to the other, not even hiding his presence from a laughing Michael. He zips through the air like a hummingbird and accepts treats, greetings and compliments. Even Gwahin seems pleased. After a while Nathan feels Toothy¡¯s desire to go out and opens one of the living room¡¯s French windows to let him explore a bit.


    ¡°You have done well once again, mortal. I was worried about bestowing a bond onto one so young but you have surpassed my expectations, for once.¡±


    ¡°One day you¡¯ll give me a proper compliment.¡±


    ¡°And that is not today. Now! I do believe you had announcements to make. I am still waiting.¡±


    ¡°Right. Everyone gather around! Seren, you ok?¡±


    ¡°MuuUuUhh.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll take that as a ¡®sort off¡¯. Before we begin, I have invited a new creature to live on this property. He¡¯s digging a tunnel right now so the proper introduction will have to wait. I just wanted you guys to know.¡±


    ¡°¡­Whatever dude it¡¯s your house.¡±


    Nathan nods to Michael and studiously avoids his mother¡¯s inquisitive gaze.


    ¡°Now, there are two things we need to address and it all relates to Kohr. The first thing is finding him, and the second thing is neutralizing him.¡±


    ¡°Is that how mortals call it these days?¡±


    ¡°Alright, three thing then, the last one being deciding what to do with the man.¡±


    ¡°Humf!¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t be like that, he could be of more use to us alive. Aren¡¯t you a little bit curious about where the real hunters are? Anyway.¡±


    Nathan takes a printed picture of Kohr and pins it on a newly acquired small board.


    ¡°This is our target. I will not elaborate too much because you already know who he is. I will add a few things. First, he is dangerous by himself. He has access to lethal spells in the form of vials that he throws around and who knows what else. Second, the man is a murderous sociopath who will gladly kill passersby simply because he¡¯s a remorseless asshole. And he¡¯s racist.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s like this guy has no redeeming qualities. Dude, can¡¯t I just wait until he gets in a car and blow his ass to Canada?¡±


    ¡°That might work. We¡¯ll get to it later. Last thing, Chauham and I both think he will attempt to kidnap one of you, and he will probably aim for a woman.¡±


    The gathering falls silent.


    ¡°Really dude? You and Chauham agreed on something?!¡±


    ¡°No seriously, the women are at risks. Jerry is already on her way with the instructions not to stop for anything and Chauham¡¯s Task Force will put a security detail on Patience.¡±


    ¡°Will they be able to do anything?¡±


    ¡°For once normal weapon should work since they only need to hit Kohr, and besides the creature with him either cannot or will not hide itself. And yes I will get back to the creature later, one thing at a time people.¡±


    ¡°So, my son, this is why you asked me to attend the meeting? You think that I¡¯m in danger of being kidnapped?¡±


    ¡°Basically, yes. I think it would be safer of the non combatants stay low for a few days so Kohr doesn¡¯t nab any of you.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯d like to see him try.¡±


    Diana stretches muscular shoulders.


    ¡°I¡¯ll crack his head like and egg and shove those vials up his¡­¡±


    ¡°Mother!¡±


    ¡°For once I have to agree with the youngling, Diana Turner, at least before we hear about that monster of his.¡±


    ¡°Right. Before we get to that there is one last thing I need to address, and that is finding the man. Knowing he¡¯s after us is one thing but even the Task Force has been unable to locate him. We should try to find him with magic. We can¡¯t rely one someone else doing the job for us. Gwahin?¡±


    ¡°Yes?¡±


    ¡°How close am I to being able to make that construct? The dream catcher we used to locate Sarah.¡±


    Gwahin sighs heavily and for a moment Nathan thinks she will protest. To his surprise, she doesn¡¯t.


    ¡°With my direction and¡­ Toothy¡¯s¡­ Support. And if you do it in the grove¡­ You should be able to manage it.¡±


    ¡°Good. Now for the catalyst, would dried blood be ok?¡±


    ¡°No. Congealed blood could still work but anything else won¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°Even if I believe it should?¡±


    ¡°Even then. I know what you are trying to do but this is Yol magic. There are limits to what you can achieve.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s unfortunate. What about blood of the monster? My Makka drank some of it.¡±


    ¡°Indeed? So. It must have grown then?¡±


    ¡°Yes. ¡°


    ¡°As expected. No, the blood was used as fuel. You will not be able to recover it.¡±


    ¡°Damn. Well, I have one last idea. There was a fence around the house we, huh¡­¡±


    ¡°InvesTigAted¡­¡±


    ¡°Burglarized. It had a powerful warding. We should be able to use a piece of it as the catalyst since it was done by our target.¡±


    ¡°Indeed.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s settled then. We can get the part tonight, unless I can get the House to get it for us. Now, next item on our agenda¡­¡±


    Nathan opens a laptop and turns it around to reveal a full screen Youtube video. The press of a key starts the short recording.


    Nathan sees himself stand up from dropping Nora on the ground. If those fuckups had rushed to her help instead of filming like a bunch of morons¡­ The very thought of it gives him a feeling of contempt that he cannot shake off; the slow burning scorn towards those who behave like sheep and deserve the same fate.


    The others watch in silence as the trio fights against the monster, if only for a few seconds before the camera holders panics and books it. He replays the short clip and stops on the clearest shot of the black creature he can find. This makes him realize something else.


    Nathan is seen mostly from the side, only those who know him would recognize him. John is wearing a cap and stays at range so recognizing him would be even harder.


    Seren is bare-faced and close enough to the creature to be easily recognized. Hum. At least most comments call bullshit or applaud the ¡°top notch CGI¡±.


    ¡°This is the thing that Korh controls. Gwahin, any comment?¡±


    ¡°I have no idea what this is.¡±


    ¡°Fuck,¡±


    ¡°Language!¡±


    ¡°¡­ Sorry.  I don¡¯t know if I should be disappointed, or happy that this thing is rare enough that you never heard about it, Gwahin.¡±


    ¡°Its movements are impressive.¡±


    ¡°I believe that it can read minds, to some extent. I got some success hitting it if I don¡¯t exactly see where I¡¯m aiming but I don¡¯t know how to make it reliable.¡±


    ¡°You probably shouldn¡¯t. Especially if Seren is on the way.¡±


    ¡°Yeah the more variables and the harder it is for me to dodge stuff. Ugh.  Head hurts.¡±


    ¡°Here little warrior, have some infusion.¡±


    ¡°Thanks Gwahin, I just wish it didn¡¯t taste like bitter mud¡­¡±


    ¡°Is that some sort of infusion? Does that help with headaches? What about bloating?¡±


    ¡°You should try her bark juice missus Turner, it¡¯s better than coffee.¡±


    ¡°Of course it is! Anything I brew will always be superior to anything you can find by yourselves¡­¡±


    Nathan sighs. He should be happy that everyone is getting along well despite¡­ Everything. Right now it feels like herding cats though.


    ¡°Please everyone, let¡¯s finish planning then you can all have some down time.¡±


    ¡°I got an idea. I¡¯ll just add a shotgun attachment to my rifle and increase the spread. That should be enough to threaten its eyes. I also think the both of us should go to Kohr¡¯s house together for safety and meet Mirrah on the way. We need to know more about the tattoo instrument. It doesn¡¯t make sense that Kohr needs it that badly. His guardian creature is more dangerous than Varogs.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s true, I¡¯ll call Jin then. It wouldn¡¯t hurt to get some support from them as well.


    ¡°I¡¯m join you guys when you go after Kohr. I¡¯m pretty sure the man himself isn¡¯t bulletproof, and you said he can¡¯t hide. I¡¯ll bring a sniper rifle and stay away in case he has Varogs with him.¡±


    ¡°Sounds good. There are two things I can think of that would help against the creature. I¡¯ll take Gwahin¡¯s advice on them tomorrow when we craft the dream catcher. All of it will help us but Kohr remains our main target. We get him down, and the creature should not be an issue. Seren?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll stay here tonight and tomorrow. I need more time.¡±


    ¡°Fair enough. It¡¯s settled then. Tonight John and I leave while you guys stay there and make sure Jericho arrives safely. Tomorrow we prepare, and in the evening we track Kohr and decide if we take him down on the spot or if we need any more planning.¡±


    ¡°What about Chauham? Is there any reason why we shouldn¡¯t involve him? We made a truce after all.¡±


    Nathan pauses. Calling Chauham goes against his instincts; those same instincts that could be fed to him by the weave to make him into some kind of cocksure pulp fiction protagonist. Is there a good reason to refuse? No. But does calling for help go against his personal beliefs? Against his commitment to the weave and himself?


    Also no.


    ¡°None at all. I¡¯ll drop him a message and if we successfully track Kohr I¡¯ll inform him so that we can attack together.¡±


    ¡°That also solves your third point. What to do with him.¡±


    ¡°I guess it does¡­¡±


    John nods and everyone stands up. Well, the men stand up. Seren is nursing the mana tea flask like a hard core juicer while Gwahin, his mother and Sarah discuss proper tea preparation. The mood is light-hearted despite what the stakes. A few months ago, he would have been worried sick about being set against a murderous psychopath and a monster and now he only feels wary.  Humans really do get used to anything.

 3.17 Maneuvers

    The sun has fully set and Seren is halfway to Gwahin¡¯s grove when her phone rings.


    ¡°Hey Yuki.¡±


    ¡°Oi, are you still in one piece?¡±


    ¡°Uh, yeah? I have the mother of all hangovers though.¡±


    ¡°Damn, famous for a day and already a party girl.¡±


    ¡°Famous? What do you mean?¡±


    ¡°Hontou? You do not know? You¡¯re on Youtube!¡±


    ¡°Oh, that. Wait. Nobody knows it¡¯s me, right? Besides you?¡±


    ¡°You wish. Some guy from the fencing club recognized you on the spot. When the first video got taken down he reuploaded it with your little stunt. ¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t mean¡­¡±


    ¡°Yeah, fifteen seconds of you beating the ever-loving shit out of Liam. Your skill and modest cleavage displayed in their full glories. I¡¯m looking at a hundred thousand views, and if that prick monetized it, you¡¯re rich baby. There¡¯s even your name in the description.¡±


    ¡°Fuck. Well, I¡¯ve got something to take care of first, then we¡¯ll see about all that. I can definitely use the money at least.¡±


    ¡°¡­ So that thing. It¡¯s real then?¡±


    ¡°Yeah¡­. But don¡¯t worry I got it.¡±


    ¡°I am not going out at night ever again. Well, good luck. Oh, last thing, you should not go back to that dump you rent unless you¡¯re ready for your first interview. I drove by on my sweet new motorcycle¡­¡±


    ¡°What? You did it? You bought it?¡±


    ¡°Yeeeeessss!¡±


    ¡°Please tell me you wore all leather and had a katana strapped to your back!¡±


    ¡°Life is not an anime Seren-chan!¡±


    ¡°Oh.¡±


    ¡°It was a sword. I don¡¯t have a katana lying around. What do you take me for? You should have seen the look on that journalist.¡±


    They make short talk for a while and as she hangs up, a gap in the trees opens the way to her destination.


    Nathan¡¯s description of the grove does not do it justice. His focus was on the incredible feeling of the forest¡¯s beating heart and it is not something she can perceive as intimately as he does. The rest, he sold short.


    The clearing is a sea of lush grass undulating under the caress of a soft wind. Islands of flower patches and small trees dot the land and attract clouds of fluttering lights. As she walks forward, she realizes that those are not firebugs but Sylvans, all a fraction of the size of toothy. The islands do not look grown so much as sculpted, each bud and each twig arranged with a sense of zen perfection, and in the center of it all stands Gwahin¡¯s tree.


    The cherry tree is absolutely massive. Its branches reach the entirety of the grove and their edge plays with Seren¡¯s perception, making her feel dizzy. Redwood trees would be bigger, she bets, but nowhere near as imposing.


    Seren walks forward. Gwahin is clearly expecting her and has set up a low table, two bowls and a bottle of something she prays is mana tea.


    She stops a few feet from the Yol woman, unsure as to how to proceed. The strange creature graces her with a sly smile and an invitation to sit. She suspects she has been read like a book, that¡¯s never good for negotiations.¡±


    ¡°Good evening Gwahin.¡± She says, as the Yold serves them both. The light is provided by a court of Sylvans. The greatest of all is produced by Toothy who leads his brethren in a hypnotizing dance.


    ¡°And a good evening to you too Seren. Do not mind the first born, he is welcoming this year¡¯s brood to his domain.¡±


    ¡°Isn¡¯t that your domain though?¡±


    ¡°A forest has¡­ Layers. Wolves do not compete with chestnuts, nor with spiders. We both have our role although I will admit that it is fortunate that he would align with me. But you are not here to talk about him, are you? You are here for yourself. Now. Drink, drink, and then ask.¡±


    Seren blushes. Gwahin completely saw through her, as expected.


    ¡°Ah, do not be like this young one. It is normal for humans to be selfish, especially when survival is at stake. We Yol are rather similar. I was expecting you sooner or not at all, to be honest.¡±


    ¡°So you know I would come to you for help?¡±


    ¡°I did not know, I expected. But! Enough of this. Formulate your request properly, so that the forms may be observed.¡±


    ¡°Right. So. We trained with you so you know what I can do. I don¡¯t really need help with the paths, I¡¯m still making a lot of progress by myself.¡±


    ¡°That is good, because I could not help you. What you do is exceedingly rare.¡±


    ¡°It is?¡±


    ¡°Yes. I do not believe there have been more than ten oracles alive at the same time at any point of this planet¡¯s history. And that includes the previous Age.¡±


    ¡°You think I¡¯m an oracle? Like, I can see the future?¡±


    Seren almost slaps herself for being this stupid. Of course she can ¡°see¡± the future. What are the paths, except potential futures?


    ¡°I understand your meaning. You think of oracles as being who offer prophecies. You may be able to do that, eventually. Ah, but we are getting sidetracked and I am to blame. Please, carry on.¡±


    Seren gulps down on the infusion to calm her nerves. Right. Here goes nothing.


    ¡°I need help for normal magic.¡± She blurts. ¡°I mean, more than just the paths. I¡¯m already reaching my limits just defending against that monster, and I don¡¯t think I could handle two Varog at once. I need more¡­ Means at my disposal. The paths will always show me the way to victory if I can provide the tools.¡±


    ¡°Ah yes. There is something that I could teach you, in an amount of time short enough to matter. We can use the weave to reinforce ourselves momentarily. Make us faster and stronger. I believe that you would be very good at it.¡±


    ¡°Really? Have you been teaching Nathan?¡±


    ¡°Not that, specifically. It requires knowing one¡¯s body and its limits, and Nathan is not a peak athlete. I will show him in time; in the meanwhile I had him focus on his strange misdirection.¡±If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know, that sounds too incredibly useful to pass up.¡±


    ¡°You have faced him in spars so you know what his power feels like. You are left reeling and lost. If you did not have the paths to protect you and if he were serious, what would be your chances?¡±


    ¡°I guess I see your point. We don¡¯t have the time or the focus to learn everything at once.¡±


    ¡°No, you do not. All three of you fighters are already doing incredibly well considering the short time you had to prepare, and that is in part due to proper prioritization. I will train you. I will also give you valuable experience fighting an opponent that is not human. That is something you desperately need. I require payment of course.¡±


    Ah, Here it is. Gwahin leans forward and shows just a hint of teeth. Between those and her eyes of molten gold she has never looked so alien. Like a mask painted on a nightmare.


    ¡°I require a favor. At some point in the future, I will ask you to accompany me on a dangerous hunt. You will drop everything else and fight by my side.¡±


    She moves back and picks up her discarded cup.


    ¡°If it is any comfort, we will not be hunting humans.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s¡­ Kind of cryptic.¡±


    Gwahin brushes her root like hair before nudging one of her two earrings. She seems lost in thoughts.


    ¡°Sometimes we make deals out of necessity. We take a future risk in exchange for a short term advantage. I promise you that I do not intend to trap you. I will just need a capable fighter by my side. Consider it an investment on both our parts.¡±


    ¡°Is it just me, or will Nathan join us?¡±


    Gwahin considers the human before her for a moment before reaching a decision.


    ¡°I will not involve him. He would try to negotiate and that would endanger us all. We will be fighting Yol.¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°As you know, I am Gwahin of the Leaves. This is not a name, but a title. And now you know enough. Out of everyone in your little group, there are only three true hunters. Out of them, you are the deadliest. Survival later requires training now. Decide.¡±


    ¡°This is a fair deal. I accept.¡±


    ¡°Very well, then we shall start immediately. Finish your drink.¡±


    <hr>


    ¡°I must admit, I wasn¡¯t expecting this.¡±


    Jin relaxes in his leather seat and smiles. The speakeasy¡¯s smooth jazz music is not relaxing enough to let him ignore Katagrias. The deep space monster is currently eating peanuts and sipping white wine while her cold aura and Jin¡¯s fiery one crash into Nathan and set his teeth on edge. He takes a sip from his cocktail, a home creation with a curious minty flavor. It does not help.


    Jin offered to help him retrieve the catalyst securely for a thousand bucks. Agrias left with John a moment ago and Nathan now has about an hour to talk to Jin. This is what he really is paying for, and his instincts told him to accept. Besides the favor, he believes that Jin wants something.


    ¡°Are you referring to my offer? Or the meeting place?¡±


    ¡°No, the OT. It¡¯s late after all.¡±


    Jin chuckles.


    ¡°That¡¯s what I like about you. You don¡¯t take this and yourself too seriously. You have not asked, but you probably wonder why I wanted to talk to you alone.¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°Would you believe me if I said I want more than a professional relationship? That I want a friend?¡±


    Nathan imagines spending every working day, and apparently many working nights, in the sole company of the creepy twins and that prickly admin.


    ¡°Yes, I would. It¡¯s just¡­¡±


    ¡°It goes against your culture to mix business and pleasure. This country has strict rules against the kind of corruption, insider tradings etc¡­ That such a friendship would entail?¡±


    ¡°No, it¡¯s not that. I mean, me and Sarah, hum, nevermind that. Let¡¯s just say it¡¯s something else because I definitely made some friends in the workplace. No, it¡¯s something else. How should I put it?


    You made it clear that you are bound by some sort of code and you can¡¯t just hand things over. What happens if one day I need something to save a loved one and I can¡¯t afford it? If I come to you for help and you have to refuse?¡±


    ¡°It may never come to that.¡±


    ¡°It could, and that possibility is enough for me. We can be friendly but I¡¯ll just keep a distance.¡±


    Jin shifts posture but if he feels disappointed, it does not show.


    ¡°I understand. And yes, my code of conduct is dictated by my associate Z. There are things I cannot do for you, just as there are rules that I have bent in your favor.¡±


    ¡°Ah?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not important right now. I understand that you are going after Kohr?¡±


    ¡°Yes. You?¡±


    ¡°We already collected our pound of flesh, so to speak. With interest. We will not pursue him further. We will just let nature run its course.¡±


    ¡°Hm.¡±


    ¡°You must be feeling excited.¡±


    ¡°How so?¡±


    ¡°You have been dragged in this world because of those disgusting eaters and Kohr is the lynchpin of the whole operation. His death should bring some closure, don¡¯t you think?¡±


    ¡°I guess¡­¡±


    ¡°Curious. I was expecting you to look forward to it.¡±


    ¡°Oh believe me I am looking forward to it, but you make it sound like it¡¯s going to be a cakewalk. Last time Kohr jumped on us with little preparation but next time it¡¯s going to be different. He will be ready for us.¡±


    ¡°It is true that preparation and knowledge are vital for hunters.¡±


    ¡°Yeah¡­ And here you are with plenty of both, two monsters as bodyguards and whatever powers you yourself have.¡±


    Nathan looks pointedly at Katagrias who returns a smile, his gaze then shifts to Jin¡¯s artistic horns.


    ¡°You overestimate me¡­¡±


    ¡°No, I don¡¯t think I do. You¡¯re roughly on the same power level as Gwahin, and she is terrifying.¡±


    Jin winces.


    ¡°Or do you deny it?¡±


    ¡°It is not that simple...¡±


    ¡°It is. You really are powerful enough to make a difference, but you choose not to according to some rules that you occasionally skirt.¡±


    ¡°None of this affects you.¡±


    ¡°Didn¡¯t you give Gwahin her earrings?¡±


    Jin flinches like a cat caught with his paw on the fish. Katagrias scoffs.


    ¡°I told you¡­¡±


    ¡°Silence.¡±


    ¡°And so we have it Jin, one more deceit, one more piece of information that concerns me directly and that you are not sharing. I want to believe that you only have my best interest at heart, but I can¡¯t count on it.¡±


    The table falls into an awkward silence. Some of the bar¡¯s patrons turn to them with curiosity as the tension is obvious. Jin is obviously upset. His spotless mien cracks to reveal a raw pain that surprises Nathan by its intensity. Despite a rising sympathy, Nathan realizes he cannot back down because he meant everything he said. The least he can do is to be honest.


    ¡°Well, that didn¡¯t quite go as well as I hoped¡­¡±


    Jin¡¯s smile is brittle.


    ¡°I can tell you¡­¡±


    ¡°Careful.¡± Interrupts Katagrias


    Nathan recoils when Jin turns on her with unbridled rage. He must be masking himself or the entire bar would be running for the exits right about now. Overheated metal and amber smash into Nathan¡¯s mind with the strength of a tidal wave as the air around Jin starts to shimmer. Karagrias remains completely unfazed and Nathan realizes the full extent of his mistake. Jin is not the boss, and the twins are not guarding for him. They are guarding him. Sympathy surges in his heart and his aura answers. Obsidian merges with metal and amber with wood smoke.


    Kinship.


    This is what Nathan feels at this instant. Not through empty promises and polite dialogue but through a deep resonance and the recognition of who Jin is at his core. A good person. A being of fire restrained by others and by the rules he set himself. Quite possibly, a friend.


    On Katagrias¡¯ alien features is displayed something new: apprehension. When he turns to Jin, he can see the same feeling of kinship reflected in the man¡¯s eyes.


    Then the moment stops and the weave lazily relaxes, letting the puny mortals sort their feelings themselves.


    Both men relax in their seat.


    ¡°There is little time before the others come back. I would just advise you to keep your phone and my contact information with you when you go after your quarry. Call it a hunch.¡±


    ¡°I will, now there is one last thing I want to talk about. Is there any way I can rent the tattoo tool for a day?¡±


    <hr>


    ¡°Yes? Hello? ¡±


    ¡°¡­ Give me back what¡¯s mine and I promise I¡¯ll leave you and your disgusting clique alone.¡±


    ¡°¡­¡±


    ¡°¡­¡±


    ¡° Why don¡¯t you come to my place and I¡¯ll be happy to give all you can take and more?¡±


    ¡°You think I¡¯m stupid? I know you¡¯re colluding with unnatural beings, probably fucking them too!¡±


    ¡°Says the corpse-eater stooge. Is there any limit to your hypocrisy?¡±


    ¡°IT¡¯S NOT THE SAME THING! You¡­ You wouldn¡¯t understand. All of you are children. You have no idea what¡¯s coming. I have a responsibility to protect myself and my own interest. I am too valuable to fall.¡±


    ¡°Your only value is to yourself. Your first positive contribution to the planet will be when I use your rotting corpse as fertilizer.¡±


    ¡°You imbecile, you think you¡¯re better than me, well, we¡¯ll see. I¡¯ll crush you like the insect you are.¡±


    ¡°That so? By the way, how¡¯s the foot?¡±


    ¡°...Don¡¯t think your luck will hold. A new world is coming, and I will get my rightful place while you animals and degenerates will submit, or die.¡±


    ¡°All I hear are the pathetic yappings of a loser. You¡¯re the remnant of a bygone era, Kohr, and no amount of enslaved mongrels will save you when I come for you.¡±


    ¡°Enough! You¡­ I should not have expected you to be reasonable. The only thing people like you understand is force.¡±


    ¡°What force Kohr? Your eater friends are dead, that eye creature is not enough to protect you. You¡¯re alone and hunted. You¡¯re weak.¡±


    ¡°I AM NOT WEAK! You think you got me trapped and alone huh? I¡¯ll show you true strength. I¡¯ll have you watch while your friends are eaten limb by limb.¡±


    Click.


    Nathan pockets his phone. John is paying extra attention to the road as if he expects them to be rammed by a rental van at any moment.


    ¡°Mmmh. He has more of them.¡±


    ¡°More Varogs?¡±


    ¡°Yes, I don¡¯t thik he was bluffing. That makes it tricky. We can¡¯t have separate squads move around or they could get ambushed and massacred before us three can get to them. Especially if he has an alpha.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re still doing it.¡±


    Nathan remembers a pool of blood on concrete. There will not be another one.


    ¡®Yes, we are.¡±