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.

“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.