One last stitch and done. The tear in the green dress fully mended with matching thread. One would have to look closely to even know it had been torn. More careful work had never been done. At least, not by David. He removed the rest of the thread from the needle and carefully placed it back in his sewing kit, then rewound the thread around the bobbin. He handed the dress to Sasha.

Sasha took the dress and held it before her. It was one of her favorites, but not her only outfit, as she was wearing a nearly identical dress in a lighter shade of green. David liked green on her. An anthro dog with off-white fur the color of hazy dishwater and black splotches; a whippet to be precise. She was tall for a woman, but quite a bit shorter than David. She ran the tavern in Digbury and had the build of a fit tavern owner; not a typical waif like most whippets, but not fat like someone with access to lots of good food. She gave the dress a look with her left eye, colored green. She only had the one. The right side of her face was a mess of scars, with a patch covering where her right eye should have been. David always wondered if the scars hurt. She did not talk about them much, but people stared. Hard not to notice it. As one who had an odd appearance and lots of battle wounds, he understood.

She smiled, a beautiful sight. Her three missing teeth on the right side of her mouth just gave character. Seeing her smile made David feel like things would be all right. Maybe even happy. “Can hardly tell it was ever torn. You do good work.” She said, folding the dress up in her paws and setting it on her bedside table.

Sasha lived in her inn. It allowed her to keep a close eye on things and the building was plenty large enough for her to claim a room. David was sitting at the table near the door, where she took her meals. Before David, there was only one chair. Now, she had a large one brought up for his use, as she liked it when he took his meals with her. It was also a quiet place where she could talk to him away from all the noise of the tavern proper.

Concern persisted that he did a poor job, but she seemed satisfied. “Where’d you learn to sew like that?” She settled next to him, the seat big enough for both of them.

“New mother taught me.” David stated after a pause. He tried to articulate clearly around Sasha. Still strained his throat to talk, but he felt as though he could share information with her. Rare, but different than the information he shared with his family or battle brothers like Nathan.

“Good to know you have a hobby.” Sasha chuckled. “Betcha can knit me a blanket for winter. Feels like it’s gonna be a cold one.”

David shook his head. “No… only patch. New father said would need to mend clothes. Get torn in fights.”

“Hm….” Sasha shrugged. “But you can do things other than fight. That proves it.”

This again? David knew she meant well, but how well did she really understand his nature? His purpose was not to be a tailor. His only aim was the eradication of evil. If he embraced his inner tailor, how many villains would evade justice?

“Hn. Only good at fighting. What I was made for. Evil never rests. Never changes.”

“Never’s a long time.” Sasha put a paw on David’s thigh. He did not recoil. Unannounced touch used to surprise him. Still did. From Sasha, he was used to it. “There’ll come a day when all the evil’ll be wiped clean from the Earth, but that ain’t up to us. In the mean time, have to keep reaching the lost.”

David nodded. “…… destroy evil. Save the innocent.”

Sasha smiled. “That’s what makes you the hero. It’s nice to know you’re out there protecting people.”

Whenever Sasha mentioned protecting people, he felt a twinge of something. Not a feeling he could identify, but it made him restless. Guilt? Probably not; what had he to be guilty of? Nothing to say, he simply nodded once.

“And who knows? Might be able to save some of the bad guys too. Sometimes, seeing a bad end coming’s enough to bring them around.”

There it was. “… no.” That was a dangerous attitude to have. David had to contradict her.

“No?’ Sasha tilted her head. Brow furrowed over her one good eye, she looked confused.

“Evil does not change…..”

“Evil doesn’t, but people do.”

David wished he thought that sometimes, but his reality showed him otherwise. He could not be that optimistic. “Evil people do not. Claim more victims. Cannot let them.”

Sasha sighed. She was no longer looking at David. She withdrew her paws from him and folded them in her lap. Silence filled the gap. He usually liked it, but the restlessness did not abate.

Finally, she looked at him. “… I ever tell you how I got my scars?”

David shook his head. “… does not matter. Still look good.”

She chuckled, but it did not sound happy. “Sweet of you to say, really. I know you’re not hung up on stuff like that, but it… means a lot to me.” She sighed. “Guess that’s why I haven’t told you yet. Guy like you? Probably hate me for it.”

That seemed impossible. How could scars mar someone so beautiful? Did it matter how she got them? David did not care. He did not even care how she got them, no matter how many times Nathan asked him if she told him yet. Did not seem to matter to anyone, as nobody knew how she got them.

“… never.” He replied.

“… we’ll see.” She sighed. “But you deserve to know.” She cleared her throat and reached for her mug of tea that cooled to room temperature an hour ago.

“I wasn’t a good kid.” She began. “Ran away from home when I was thirteen. Didn’t want to end up a farmer’s wife with a dozen kids running around.” She shook her head. “Stupid… really missed out on that…..”

“Did what I could to survive for a year. Lots of stealing. Eventually got in with a crew of smugglers. Called ourselves Rorik’s Trading Company.” She paused to see if any spark of recognition happened behind David’s eyes. Nothing. Unsurprising; it was a long time ago.

“… called ourselves that to make us seem legitimate, but we were just thugs. Ran contraband across the borders. Sometimes drugs… sometimes people. Didn’t care so long as we got paid…..” She sighed.

David felt something flex in the back of his mind. Treating people like objects? Her? He did not believe it. Justice cried out in the back of his mind, but he quieted it. Maybe he misheard her? Let her finish the story.

“Still lots of places where slavery ain’t illegal… and we were good at what we did. Good at beating the competition. Usually violently. Wasn’t the best fighter, but I was eager.” She grimaced. “They weren’t all bad guys either. We did some shakedowns too…..”

“I could go on for days telling you about all the folk we hurt. But I’ll spare you. Wouldn’t like it. The last job’s what got me this face.”

Another sip of tea to take the shake out of her voice. “We got contacted by some noble. Sheik Alabaster. Nasty guy. His newest wife ran off. Girl not much younger than I was when I left home. Naturally, he sent us to get her. We brought the whole crew, me, Rorik, six other guys. Took four days to track her down. She was moving fast, but we were faster. Shame we weren’t worse, but we were motivated. The slob offered each of us a solid gold brick to get her back. Already had seven wives, but I guess he liked ‘em young….”

David felt like asking her where this guy was. Sounded like he could use a visit. One ending in extreme violence, naturally. The desire for justice hung in the back of his mind. He was still coming to grips with Sasha not only associating with him, but working for him.

“Got her all tied up. Girl was terrified. Begged and pleaded not to go back. Wanted us to take her back to her family. We laughed. She was a farm girl too. Dirt poor family, so they didn’t have anything we wanted. We were going to gag her, but she got quiet. Asked her what she was doing, she said praying. Made us laugh even harder. Figured God must’ve had it out for her personally if she ended up in the shit she was in.” Sasha paused a moment. “Uh, sorry… pardon the curse.”

David nodded. He heard worse.

“… well, we went to sleep. Maurice took first watch. Not sure what happened, but I woke up to Simons yelling. ‘He let her loose! He let her loose!’ That got us up quick. I jumped up in time to see the girl running.”

“While we were all getting our bearings, Simons went for his crossbow. Cracked Maurice good with it, right in the side of the head. Then he did the dumbest thing he could’a done. He aimed at her.”

She sighed. “Never could shoot straight. I know he was tryin’ to hit her leg, but the bolt went right through her back. Must’ve hit her heart cause she was dead before she even hit the ground.”

“… you killed her.” David had no other words. No other thoughts. For the first time in his life, he was truly surprised. How could this be possible? She was good!

Sasha nodded. “May as well have. All of us had a hand in it, but we didn’t want that. I never much liked killing, even back then. And we just killed the prized little wifey of the kind of person you never wanted to piss off. We were on our way back, so we were already deep in his lands. It was only a matter’a time before he got us. We did the only thing we could; split up and scattered. All of us made a break for the border. Figured there’s less a chance of us all getting caught and we could move faster separate.”

“We were wrong. Rorik was the only one who got away. Alabaster’s private army was big and there were plenty enough to find us. Didn’t help Maurice went right to him and turned himself in. They knew to look for us pretty quick.”

Sasha chuckled derisively. “I was pretty pissed, but he had the right idea. We did a lot of bad stuff. Can only run from justice for so long, even if it comes from someone as evil as Alabaster.”

“Maurice, he killed. Beheaded him in front of all of us. He was smiling when he died. Said he was going home. Sorry for what he did. Everything. Last words were ‘please, give your lives to Jesus. It’s not too late to be saved.’ We weren’t laughing, but the sheik’s men got a kick out of that. Never knew what all that girl said to him, but it must have been something…..”

She picked up a cloth, dabbing the moisture collecting under her eye, before continuing. “Simons didn’t go so easy. They cut him hundreds of times until he finally bled out. I still hear him screaming sometimes when I sleep… he was a bad man, but didn’t deserve that.”

David might have disagreed there, but he held his tongue. He could not have even made words if he tried. Too much to process.

“The rest of us got off easy. His men just beat the guys half to death and cut off their right hands. Not me though.” She frowned. “Fat monster said ‘it’s no good to take away a woman’s hand’. But, he wanted to make sure people knew what I did.”

“… his men held me down.” She looked away from David. Her whole body tensed. “… didn’t know what he was gonna do, till I saw him come up to me with a clay pot full of something putting off a lot of smoke. Don’t know what was in it, but I felt it when he poured it on my face.”

“I didn’t know it was possible to hurt so bad. Whole face felt like it was on fire and being clawed away in chunks. Last thing I saw in that eye was that jackal’s fat, grinning face. Then it winked out. Gone. I felt it burst and run down my cheek… I was screaming, thrashing so much that the stuff splashed on one of his guards. He yelled something, but held on. They were loyal.”

“I don’t think Alabaster liked the show. He must not’ve done that before, cause I remember him looking pale. After that, he told the guards to beat me till I couldn’t move and dump me outside of town.” She sneered. “Guess seeing an eye pop ruined his appetite. Only other thing I got after was some broken ribs, a dislocated shoulder, some missing teeth, and more bruises than I have fingers’n toes.”

“I was in bad shape… they took my sword, all my money, my pack, just left me with the clothes on my back. Those were in bad shape too. I had less than I did when I left home years before.” She shook her head. “Wish I could’a slapped some sense in my young self, but it ain’t like I would’ve listened.”

“Way I saw it, I had no friends, no money, and no hope. Couldn’t even rely on my looks, not that I ever considered playing the harlot. Didn’t know what I was gonna do. Thought about it, but the only thing left for me was go home. Didn’t know what was waiting for me, but it couldn’t’a got any worse. Even if my family hated me, they wouldn’t burn my face off.”

“Probably wouldn’t’a made it home, state I was in. Walking for about a day before some traveling missionaries picked me up. Fixed up my wounds, gave me something to eat, cleaned me up. Would’ve died without them in more ways than one.”

“They were the first people who were actually decent to me since I left home. Didn’t think people like that existed, since I forgot how good my parents were by then. They weren’t just fake nice either, believed what they were preaching. After what happened to Maurice, figured I should listen.” She smiled, fully genuine. David may not have been good at social cues, but he had seen enough forced smiles to know what one looked like. “Even after everything I did, everything that happened, they showed me there’s still hope. Found God right there.” She chuckled. “About time, He’d only been waiting on me my whole life.”

“When I got home, things were rough for a while, but that’s an entire story too. My point is people can change, David. So, try and remember that when you’re out saving the innocent.”

She reached over and put a hand over his. Amusing, considering his hand dwarfed hers. He did not move.

David stared at her. Of all her potential backgrounds, he could not have predicted this. She was one of the kindest people David ever met. She may have been tough and averse to nonsense, but she took care of her community and those under her care. No one in Digbury went hungry. She was quick to give money to those in need and organize the town whenever a building or road needed repair. A pillar of her church who showed him nothing but care. Care for him, a rare thing indeed. David was not sure why, but she seemed attached to him, despite his appearance. Despite all those he killed throughout his life. She actually talked to him, wanting to know his thoughts on so many things.

She was also a criminal. A kidnapper. A thief and killer. What she was, David saw many times before. It did not match at all with who she was now. How could he believe this? It could not be true, but what reason would she have to lie?

It made no sense. People did not flip from evil to good like that. Not outside of idealized stories for children, anyway. Fairy tales people told children to keep them innocent, not knowing how bad the world truly was.

“Looks like you’re thinking about something.” Sasha interrupted his feedback loop.

“… you are good.” David tried his best to verbalize his thoughts. That was what came out.

Sasha chuckled, not mocking nor derisive. “No one’s good but God, but it’s nice of you to say. I do my best to follow Jesus, loving God and loving my neighbor as myself. Don’t always do right, but I’m not out there stealing, hurting people, or running slaves.” She sighed. “Bet I was the kind of person you would’ve fought, back when.”

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

He still had trouble believing it. Were that true, he would have killed her and her entire crew without hesitation. But, he could never do that now. She was too… good. He would die to defend her. David looked away, unable to answer, because he could not lie.

“Heh, it’s all right if you’d say ‘yes’. I know what I was.” She squeezed his hand. David turned his palm over and gently closed his fingers around hers. Careful, do not crush it. It may have been a working hand, but it was delicate compared to his.

“… how?” He looked her in the eye. “… no one changes. Evil people do more evil. You do no evil.”

“We all have our pasts, good or bad. Just because I don’t go out of my way to hurt people doesn’t mean I’m perfect or even good. Just do the best I can to love God and love others.” She reiterated, gently guiding David’s hand to her face.

He allowed it.

“People can change, David. Just because someone’s done something evil doesn’t mean they can’t be redeemed. Sometimes, they’re stupid. Dumb kids… dumb adults. Sometimes, it seemed like the right thing at the time. Or they had to do it so something worse wouldn’t happen.” She smiled. “But people can change… either because they wise up….” She turned his hand over and placed it over the ugly scars covering the side of her face. “… or because they realized that being evil causes nothing but pain.”

David did not recoil from her scars. Most would have. He did not. They looked painful, sure, but he had his own. He cupped her muzzle in his hand. Her other eye was closed. He did not know what to say, or how she felt. What he did know was telling your checkered past to someone who killed villains for a living took a lot of courage. No one in Digbury knew how she got her scars. She never told anyone.

Except him.

Why? The thought gave David another odd feeling. It reminded him of home, when he was surrounded by family. Well-fed and seeing everyone around him happy. And happy to be with him. All that centered on one person.

He curled a finger and scratched behind her ear. A large hand could do that, and she seemed to like it when he did.

She smiled. “Heh. Guess you understand all right. Don’t hate me for what I was?” One eye opened to look at him.

David shook his head. “Never.”

“Good… just don’t go telling anyone. Isn’t something I’m proud of.” She put her arms around David’s neck, gave him a kiss, and rested her head against his chest.

She always seemed to rest best when she gave David a lot to think about.

The scene played over in David’s mind as he followed Diomedes and Elizabeth home. He knew their names now, as well as knowing they were coming home. Watching over them while they were in the hospital with their new child. Could have struck at any time, but it was not the right place. Killing in the hospital was not ideal. It was only out of necessity that he killed the thin skunk, whose name he never bothered to find out. Just another evil corpse. Shame about the people who had to clean up the smear on the wall that once was most of his blood and organs.

Following their car was simple. Just stay out of sight, watch them as they turned, cut through lawns or whatever else to create shortcuts. David knew the area well enough from his brief walkthroughs patrolling the town. He half expected the skunk to drive out of town or to a more public place. Maybe even refuse to leave the hospital. No, he was taking his family home. Trying to regain normalcy despite his crimes. It was not so easy to escape justice. Even if he tried to run, David would catch him.

Did he deserve to die? He wanted to say yes, but his thoughts drifted to Sasha’s words. Then, to the skunk’s wife and newborn daughter. They would not like losing him. Did they deserve to lose him? No.

… but everyone had a father, including his victims. And they were sons and daughters too. They did not deserve what happened to them and justice demanded he have no chances to make more victims. And he would.

At least, that is what David told himself. There was some doubt. He seemed to regret his actions. Made them under duress. He even wanted to atone for what he did. Throw himself on the sword (sickle?) to save his family. Did he think David would hurt them? He had no intention to, but Diomedes did not know that.

He remembered Circe. The looks of despair on the faces of her victims. The trunk full of mementos from all the men she warped, tortured, and killed. Too powerful and capricious to live. They were of the same stock and she was one of the most evil people he ever brought down. He made more of her perfume for that cat. He was guilty.

They were not the same. Could he really kill someone so reluctant to do evil? Could people change? David’s past told him they did not. David’s past told him at least one did. Even Nathan was not completely pure.

Even he had killed the wrong person before. Regretful, but he knew his own motivations were just. Diomedes? Not so sure.

He was out of time to decide. Diomedes pulled into the driveway of a sensibly sized home on a sleepy street in a residential area far from the college.

The avatar of justice moved into the shadows and circled behind the house. He was inside before they reached the front door.

Dion held the door open for Liz. She held their new baby girl, so her hands were full. He could not have been happier. Despite her arrival several weeks early, she was perfectly healthy. Dion’s parents always told him Izorian children were sickly; usually having to be corrected with magic early on. Their daughter was the picture of health. Truly a miraculous child.

Labor was the hardest part of the ordeal, but mercifully short. Less than an hour, as if the little one could not wait to enter the world. The anesthesiologist did not even have time to put in an epidural. Everything preceding the birth was far more stressful than the actual event.

Lying in bed, with her daughter in her arms, none of that mattered any more. The smile on her face, despite the fatigue weighing on her features, gave her a maternal glow. When she opened her eyes to look at them, the healthcare staff got their next surprise. Rather than the standard baby blue most newborns had, hers were brilliant violet. She had her father’s eyes and his purple headfur. Dion and Liz were not surprised at all. They already knew she was special.

With all the excitement, and the fact she was premature, they had not settled on a name yet. Did not take long for them to settle on one. At first, Dion thought the name Circe might work, as it was the name of one of his ancestors on his mother’s side. That name gave him a strangely uncanny feeling, so he discarded it immediately. Liz suggested Anne, probably at random. Neither liked that one much. Finally, Dion suggested Phoebe. In the closest approximation from Izorian, it meant ‘shining light’. Liz loved it.

The rest of the hospital stay encompassed two days in the maternity suite. No need for Phoebe to stay in the neonatal intensive care unit; one would have to check the chart to know she was premature at all. It was something of a blur. So focused were they on Pheobe that they almost forgot about everything leading up to this.

Almost. A couple of police officers visited them the day after the birth. Officer Max, a great dane, and officer Sam, a tall, lanky jackrabbit. They apologized for their poor timing, but said they had a few questions for Dion.

Scared? Yes, he was. He was witness to two murders and a lot of really weird stuff. They asked him about Dr. Gilbert’s body in his lecture hall. Dion could not lie, so he told the truth. A tall, gray skinned human with brown hair killed him. Dion went on to say he almost killed him next, but he got away. He ran to the hospital to make sure his wife was okay, and that was when he killed the skunk they found in the basement. He described the gray man as best he could, as well as the situation preceding it. He just left out the fantastical stuff about magic, extortion, and perfume.

The officers took notes, Officer Sam occasionally laughing at inappropriate times. Officer Max minimized the danger the gray man posed, despite Dion noting he said he was going to kill him next. They made him uncomfortable, but he did his best not to show it. They thanked him for the statement, gave him a number to call if he thought of anything else, and went to leave. When Liz pressed them about safety, Officer Max rolled his eyes and said “yeah, okay, we’ll send a car by when you get home. Doubt this guy’s still even in town, but we’ll keep an eye out for him.” Officer Sam giggled again and they left before any more follow ups could be asked. Hopefully, they would catch the gray man. Arrest him before he could hurt Dion’s family. He wished them luck, for everyone’s sake. Someone that dangerous should not be on the streets.

Other than that, Dion did not think much of the ordeal. It all seemed to melt away with Phoebe’s arrival. Months of anxiety gone in an instant. New worries about her future would come, but let him enjoy being a new dad.

He closed the door behind him and turned on the light. They departed late; the discharge process having taken longer than usual due to understaffing. Liz walked ahead of him and was as eager as he to get the baby settled. A still, small voice in his head again saying ‘turn around’. Dion turned around.

He was there. The gray monster from earlier towered behind him with a face like a mask. Grim, determined, target found. Dion never heard him come in. No broken glass, no signs of forced entry. He was just… there.

Judgement arrived. Past misdeeds from the prior year flashed through his mind. Not just that, but every lie he ever told. Dion felt like an evil man. In many ways, he was. Salvation had a way of highlighting your past sins before wiping them clean. Even though he was saved, he knew what he did. There were still earthly consequences for helping that rapist. Even if under duress, he still played his part. This was tragic, but not entirely so. It was something else.

Justice.

He looked at Liz and Phoebe. Liz clutched their daughter to her chest, eyes wide and staring up at the gray man. The child slept in her arms, oblivious to what went on around her. Still exhausted from entering the world, it was best she not watch this.

She moved to step forward. To plead? To fight? She was terrified. Dion could see it in her eyes. She wanted to protect what was hers, even if that was his job. Ephesians 5:25. He shook his head. “No, it’s okay…” He said.

Liz froze up, looking at him. She started to say something, but Dion cut her off. He did not want to drag this out any more than he had to.

He looked up at the gray man. “I’m ready… just promise me you won’t hurt them. They had nothing to do with any of it.”

The gray man nodded once. “Will not hurt them.” He stated before his right hand came up and wrapped around Dion’s neck. Massive fingers encircled it, but he could still breathe. He felt strangely at peace. Looking up at him, he waited.

David decided Diomedes deserved a quick death. Just one twist, snap the neck. Death would be instantaneous. Nearly painless. A jolt, then nothing. David assumed. Having never died before, but killed plenty, this method seemed to be the quickest. Least messy.

He was not sure how the fat skunk caught him sneaking up behind him. Not once, but twice. Just… turned around before he closed in. A rare thing, but it had never happened twice in a row. This only meant David had to be extra wary of him. If he was anything like Circe, he had reason to be.

He looked so much like her. Diomedes could not hide it with any amount of dye. He could see the violet behind his contact lenses and the purple roots of his hair. He was basically a fat, male version of the powerful sorceress. She would have incinerated him if she could. What she did to those men was unforgivable. His only regret was he did not get to kill her slow.

His crimes were similar. He made more of that perfume. Twisted men into toys. Let that cat rape them. Samuel reeked of contamination and that wicked smell that seemed to cling to the bodies of sexual predators like swamp miasma. Diomedes helped him, so he was responsible.

But, was he? Diomedes hated the cat. He saw them talking before the thin skunk appeared. He wanted out. Done with all the evil the cat did. Done with helping him. He did it under duress. David was not so single minded he could not see that.

He still did it. There was always a choice. Avoiding negative consequences was not an excuse. A good person could endure. Diomedes gave in, so he was not a good person.

Unless he threatened something else. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the rabbit and child.

The muscles in David’s jaw clenched. Circe had a rabbit too. See? He was just like her. A powerful mage with a pet rabbit, treating men like they were toys.

No, he was not like her. They shared blood. They shared features. They did not share thoughts or motivations or habits. He was willing to die for her. No evil person would put themselves on the chopping block to protect someone. Not like he did. He did not fight. He surrendered willingly. Throwing himself on David’s mercy? David could not afford mercy. Not again.

He felt every muscle in his arm tense, but he did not squeeze. Evil needed to be punished. Diomedes had done evil, enabling one of the worst things you could do to someone and have them still live. He was a dangerous sorcerer. There was too much of a chance he would go back to doing evil. People do not change. Evil does not change.

People can change. Sasha’s words in his ear.

David pushed them aside. Had to be done.

People can change.

No.

People can change.

Punish the wicked, protect the innocent. He glanced at Elizabeth and the baby. Frozen in horror, they could only watch. They were not his victims. Did they know? It did not matter. He had to stop him from making more victims.

People can change.

Every muscle in David’s arm screamed at him. One motion. A quick snap, then no more problem.

For just a moment, he felt Sasha’s hand over his, pulling it away. He had to resist. She would not approve. She thought she knew what kind of hero he was, but he did not tell her everything he had done. How could he?

This skunk was too dangerous to live. Too many unknowns.

… at one time, so was Sasha. For his whole life, so was he.

David’s hand relaxed. He exhaled, and let the skunk go.

The iron grip around Dion’s throat relented. Freed, he staggered back several steps. His hand went to his throat. Whole. No bones snapped. Nothing crushed. Nothing maimed. He could breathe. He was alive! Now he knew how those condemned men, bound to an electric chair, felt when the pardon from the governor game through just before the switch flipped.

His neck also hurt. Throbbing in his muscles led to the certainty of a killer ache in the days to follow.

Liz moved to his side, but still behind him. She glanced at him, but her eyes were back on the gray man. He was still there. Standing over them, watching. Was this a fake out? Dion almost expected him to say ‘just kidding!’ and punch him in half, like he had with Myles.

“Why?” The gray man asked, ending Dion’s speculation.

Not that he understood the question. “Why what?” He was still in shock. It was not every day one’s life was threatened. Not every week where it happened several times.

“… why did you help Samuel?”

Samuel? Oh! Samantha. The cat. He was dead too. Dion should have felt worse about this. Remembering what he did, all he felt was relief. There would be time for guilt later.

“Him….” Dion began. “He threatened me. Worse than that, he threatened my family. My wife, my unborn child. He said if I did not help him, he would ruin my life. Tell everyone what I am.”

Dion winced, remembering the cat’s words as if he just heard them. “I know what I am. I’m pretty sure you do too. But no one else knew. Izorians are powerful mages, all of us, and we have a reputation. Do you have any idea what it’s like to feel like you’re being chased all the time because you’re different?”

The gray man raised an eyebrow. Oh, right. He was talking to a seven and a half foot tall, gray skinned monster who was immune to magic and could disassemble people with his bare hands. He almost looked human, but was definitely not.

“Heh… um…” Now Dion simply felt awkward. He tried to salvage it. “You know… um. How it is. I didn’t want to endanger her, but it turned out I just made it worse. I told him off before, well, you killed him.”

The memory of Samantha’s scream stayed with him. He tried to push it out, thankful he did not have to see him die.

“Told him it was over. No more perfume. I’ll never make that hell broth again. Not for anyone.” Dion added.

Liz’s fingers wrapped around his. She held his paw and added, “He won’t do anything like that again. We can weather anything together.”

Dion gave her paw a squeeze. Having her stand there with their daughter made him feel like he could take on anything. It almost felt like his near-death experience never happened. “I’m going to do everything I can to protect her. To be the kind of father she can be proud of.” The skunk added.

The gray man tuned his head. It was hard to tell what he was feeling, but he no longer stared at Dion with the intensity of an inquisitor. “Hn… not like her….” He said.

Her. This was the second time he mentioned a ‘her’. Another Izorian, perhaps? The gray man knew what they were, so he had to have encountered one of their number before. Dion wanted nothing more than for him to go away.

But he had to know. “When you say ‘her’, who are you talking about?”

The gray man cleared his throat. It sounded like wet rocks grinding together, making Dion’s skin tighten up. He did not feel any better when the gray man started speaking.

“She was one of you… twisted men into toys. Stole them, beat them, raped them, enslaved them, killed them. Hundreds, maybe more, for many years.”

Dion’s mind worked over the words. His heart sank. The stories of his ancestors were not embellished. Myles taught him that, but this reinforced it. Were there more out there like her? Did all their victims end up like Samantha?

“What… happened to her? And her victims, what of them? Did they all end up like Saman… Samuel?”

“… killed her, and her rabbit…..” The gray man’s left hand flexed for a moment. A memory? “Saved nine. Eight ended fine… Samuel did not.” He looked away for a moment. “Hn… should have killed him. Knew he was not right. Ignored it.”

Cycles of abuse. Dion read about it, but it never seemed real. He was curious about the rest of the victims. It might be interesting to meet them someday.

Well, maybe not. Would you want to meet someone connected to your slave master?

Dion needed to know one more thing. He did not want to ask, but he had to. “What was her name?”

The gray man raised an eyebrow for half a second. Confused by the question? Surprised he asked? Maybe just surprised Dion did not already know. In some hero’s minds, all villains from the same faction knew each other.

“… Circe Faroda.” He answered anyway.

All Izorians knew their genealogies. One had to know where they came from. His parents still had the dusty old tome with their family tree going back centuries. Dion knew that name. An aunt from about six hundred years ago. She lived in their original commune for a time before leaving under unclear circumstances. No one heard from her, but it seemed she had been busy.

That was lifetimes ago. It could not possibly be the same one! She would have to be a being of immense power to achieve a lifespan like that. It would be akin to the lifespan of their emperors when the Izorians still had their own nation.

… which meant there was a possibility it was her and they were related. He decided not to tell the gray man this. The information might be enough to make him reconsider sparing his life. Maybe he already assumed they were related? The implications were such that his parents were right. There were people out there hunting him. There were still Izorians hurting people.

But, that was not on him. The events of the past few days let him shed his guilt like a fetid old coat he was too neurotic to take off.

“I will never be like her.” Dion stated; whether to convince himself or the gray man.

The gray man nodded once. “If you do, will find you. Any evil, will hunt you down. No talk. Just kill you slow.” His eyes pierced through Dion’s skull. His heart clenched for a moment when the words left the monster’s mouth.

“You won’t have to.” Dion replied.

The gray man may have been satisfied. May not have been. As he turned to leave, he paused. Glancing back at Liz, he reached into one of the pockets of his overcoat. To protect her child, Liz flinched back, guarding Phoebe from harm.

The gray man’s motions were not malicious. He pulled out a 100 dollar bill and tossed it on the floor. “Broke the lock. Back door. Here.” He left via the front door. Not breaking this one.

Dion was thankful more for his absence than his money. Cementing this fact, when he picked up the bill, there was a streak of blood smeared across it.