A Last First Meeting

Last Peace.

A peaceful town, settled up against the Great Lakes of the north. Not much to say of this place that hadn’t been said a thousand times before. A few fishing sloops were moored at the dock, and the trails up into the mountains were well-used. The townsfolk were friendly enough to each other, and anyone with a few coins could find a decent room at the inn.

Completely peaceful, and serene. If you didn’t know it existed, you’d swear it didn’t.

Last Peace. The refuge of the Riders.

Harsk sighed, stuck his hands in his pockets, and kept walking towards the town. The road crunched under his feet. He could feel a bruise developing under his left sole. He needed another shoe. And if there were any offers, a younger foot would be nice.

Behind Harsk, a small group was forming. The first had caught up to him a couple weeks ago, riding a red horse fast enough to break the poor thing’s legs. Another showed up a day later, and the two Riders got to bickering with each other while Harsk walked. Soon most of the Ride was leading their new mounts behind Harsk.

Carson and Nettie had arrived last. They were the ones who were allowed the closest, their mounts just a few beats away from Harsk’s own footsteps. They looked pensive, quiet. Trying to wrestle with their own problems.

He did a head count as he walked. There had been…what, fifteen of them when Carzic had split everyone up? Now there were nine. Harsk tried to find out what had happened.

Frederick, he had been savaged by the cultists. They had grown too fervent, and wanted to show their devotion to Carzic, making sure he was dead before they cut their own throats. Some passerby found him, buried him in a ditch, sending along the letter to his mother he always had tucked in his boot.

Yuri and Santigo had left for the southeast. They had sent word to Harsk as best they could, but they were done.

Terrance had been killed in his sleep. Stabbed in the back as he tried to play lord and tyrant over a small town.

Rel was busy taking on goblins.

He was still missing.

Kait. Kait was on her own.

He trudged into town.

“Look, Harsk,” Carson said. “We’re trying here, but I gotta tell you, things are not looking great. We’ve had visions,

The Riders looked around, confused. This was the first time any of them had set foot in Last Peace. Harsk had never let anyone come near the place. They rarely even journeyed to this part of the Lakes. The Riders had respected his silence, even if they questioned why.

Carson looked around, and shrugged. It was, a town. The passerby moved quickly past the newcomers, silently judging. The scent of food was mouth-watering, not divine. And even the air seemed blisteringly normal.

What was it that made Last Peace the refuge of the Riders? When all else failed, this was where they were supposed to go? This was Harsk’s final resting spot?

Why?

“Excuse me!”

A man ran up to the company. Dressed in a buffed-up suit of armor, replete with shining metal badge, and a whistle. The mustached man-child puffed on the screaming thing for good measure.

“Excuse me! State your business in Last Peace!”

Harsk shrugged, and kept walking.

“Pardon. I said, pardon!”

The man placed himself in directly in the path of Harsk. “Sir, I must ask that you state your business in Last Peace.”

Harsk frowned. “You said that already.”

“And I intend to do so as long as it takes to get a sufficient answer!”

Carson dismounted, and tried to maneuver himself in between the two men. “Hi, so sorry. We are a small community, trying to find a small piece of refuge.”

“Not here!” The man squawked. “Definitely not here. Not until you state your business.”

“I just said…”

The man poked his finger in Harsk’s stomach. “Now, where were we?”

The Riders stirred. Several horses took their steps forward.

A man passed by on a cart, and rolled his eyes. “Blow it out your ear, Cherdie. They’re just passing through.”

“This is an invasion!” Cherdie shrilled. “We are set upon by hostilities in leather! Hostilities!”

“Back off!” The man shouted.

Cherdie scurried away, his armor clanking with every frantic step.

The man watched him go. “Sorry. Cherdie just got promoted a few weeks ago, and is not taking it well since the sheriff moved. He’s been spouting conspiracy theories, trying to find invaders of Last Peace.”

Carson extended a hand. “No problem. Name’s Carson, unofficial spokesman of our little troupe.”

The man nodded. “Jon. What can I do for you.”

Carson twiddled his thumbs, looking at Carson. He realized that he actually had no idea where they were going. “Um, well, actually, we are looking for a bit of…”

“Where’s Erik’s place?”

Jon’s brow furrowed. “Erik? Erik Potter?”

Harsk grunted.

“That’s a yes,” Carson said quickly.

“Erik’s in the same place he’s been for the last twenty years,” Jon said. He pointed down the road that wound around the lake. “About ten houses down. He’ll be in the woodshop or the garden at this time of day.”

Harsk nodded, and kept walking.

Carson tossed a few coins Jon’s way with a smile. “Thank you. It really means a lot to us.”

Jon shrugged, and pocketed the money. “Makes no difference to me. Though Erik is getting quite popular.”

Carson wanted to press further, but the Ride was already a hundred yards down the road. Nettie looked back, and held up the reigns of his horse as she led him away.

He cursed, and waved his hand. “Thanks again!”

Carson ran after the Ride. He quickly outpaced them, and slipped in beside Harsk.

“Keep up, Carson,” Harsk whispered.

The Rider leaned in close. “Sir, what’s going on?” he asked. “There’s some real problems going on, and we’re nowhere near them.”

Harsk nodded.

“I don’t know if you heard me before. But Nettie and I passed through towns that had been slaughtered by demons. The Fae were around, and had done nothing. They wanted me and Nettie to die because we had seen everything.”

Harsk walked.

“I think the demons are targeting humans, Harsk. They’re wiping us out, because the fae won’t lift a finger to help us.”

Harsk nodded.

Carson tapped the Rider on the shoulder. “Are you listening? We may be looking at a genocide, and it’s targeted enough that no one cares that doesn’t have a stake in it. We’re on our own!”

“We’re always on our own, Carson,” Harsk said. “That’s why we’re the ones fighting.”

“But why are we here?” Carson asked. He looked back at the other Riders. They nodded back, hopeful. Carson was their voice, their spokesman. None of them would dare question Harsk. But why? Why were they here.

“Is this a cache of weapons?” Carson asked.

Harsk shook his head.

“Money, then? Or magic?”

Harsk snorted.

“Then what?” Carson asked. “Why are we pushed into the ass end of nowhere? Why are we stuck here?”

Harsk stopped, and counted off his fingers. “Would you say that was ten houses?”

“One more,” Nettie interrupted. She pointed.

Harsk looked up, and stared. A three-story house beckoned towards him. Beautifully crafted in oak, set out on the edge of the water. A garden with wildflowers curled out from the front door, stopped by an iron fence.

A man sat on a chair in the middle of the garden. In his mid-thirties, flecks of grey hair were just starting to lighten a mass of dark hair. Dressed in a fine silk shirt and cloth pants, which made him seem out of place in the natural scenery.

He didn’t notice the Ride, consumed with carving a small dog out of a block in his hands. He hummed a soft tune, trying to keep the blade turned all through a curve of the tail.

Harsk stood at the gate, and waited until the man got through his stroke.

“Erik.”

Erik stopped, and looked up. His eyes widened in recognition, and then narrowed.

“Harsk.”

“How are you doing?”

“Well enough,” Erik muttered.

They stared at each other. Erik’s gaze growing more intense with each passing moment, while Harsk remained impassive.

“What do you want, Harsk?”

“We need a rest…”

Erik finally spat, and walked into his house.

“I hoped you died.” He slammed the door behind him.

Harsk sighed, and leaned against the gate. “Good to see you too, son.”

Carson opened his mouth to speak, and found the wind pouring out of his chest. He gasped, clutching at the fence.

“Son?!?”

“Erik Potter,” Harsk said. “He took his mother’s name.”

“Son? You have a son.”

Harsk nodded. He looked at the grounds, taking it all in.

Carson turned towards the rest of the Riders, exasperated. “Mozel tov, boys. We’re uncles…again.”

The Riders descended into gossip, moving away from the house. They immediately started telling stories about children, and monsters, and monstrous children, growing more and more animated with each telling.

Harsk ignored them, looking at the house.

“A son?” Nettie asked.

“A long night,” Harsk said. “After so many others, holed up with a wild storm of a woman. She told me about Erik when I wandered into her parts, five years later.”

He looked onto the water. “It wasn’t love. Or lust, or a mistake. Two wandering souls that met once.”

“He seems to hate you.”

“Because I’m not his father,” Harsk said. “Not in any way that matters. When we met I had the Ride, and my mission. Erik…Erik was not meant for the Ride.”

He gestured towards the house. “A life, a place in this town. Respect. Everything that we could never have. I never would have been enough for him.”

Nettie leaned against the gate. “Nah. You’d have been a great dad.”

Harsk looked at Nettie.

Nettie laughed. “You’re right. You’re terrible.” She punched him in the arm, and walked through the gate. “Let’s say hello to the thirty-year-old tyke.”

Nettie knocked on the door, Harsk following slowly behind.

“Go away, Harsk!”

“It’s not him!” Nettie shouted back. “It’s one of the other highly trained warriors sitting in your garden, bored and restless.”

“I’ll call Cherdie!”

Nettie’s snort echoed across the lake.

The door opened a tad. Erik stuck his face out.

“Who are you?”

“Nettie. Another of Harsk’s Riders.”

“Harsk doesn’t take in women.”

“He made an exception.”

“Great. Wonderful.” He sighed. “Now can I please go back to my life?”

“It’s bad, son,” Harsk said.

“It’s got to be,” Erik said. “Because you’ve actually come to see me.”

Harsk let that go.

“Can my boys at least come in?”

“No. I prefer my privacy.” He pointed down the road. “If you keep going, you’ll find an inn. Beds are warm, and they’re quite discreet.”

“How would you…” Nettie trailed off, and reddened. Harsk’s son was a bit of a womanizer it seemed.

Erik walked towards the kitchen. “Can I get you anything? Tonic? Liquor? Demon blood?”

“Demon…”

“A joke, Harsk,” Erik said. “A joke.”

He walked into the kitchen. “I’m getting myself a drink, at least.”

“It’s barely past noon, Erik,” Harsk said.

“Perfect timing, then!”

Harsk clenched his fist. He turned away, considering leaving.

Nettie looked at him. “You came here for a reason, right?”

Harsk nodded, and walked into the kitchen.

Erik already had a bottle of scotch out, and three glasses. He sloshed two halfway up, and filled his to the brim.

“Is that really necessary, son?” Harsk asked.

“Alcohol helps with stressful situations,” Erik said. He downed half the drink in a single swig. “Like dealing with fathers, legends, and other deities.”

This couldn’t be Harsk’s son. Couldn’t. He didn’t have what Harsk’s son needed. No gravitas, no poise.

Erik hiccuped, and looked at Nettie, then back to Harsk. He grinned, sheepish. “They don’t know about me,” he murmured.

“It’s…”

Erik walked over to the window, and pushed it open. He stuck his head out. “Hey! Have any of you bastards ever knew I existed?” He shouted at Carson.

“Um, I don’t know how to…”

Erik slammed the window shut. A pane cracked, glass shattering to the ground.

“Erik!” Harsk said. “Stop that.”

His son shrugged, and took another long drink. He burped, and set the glass down before he broke it.

“The mighty Harsk,” he slurred. “The almighty warrior for good. Come to pay his son a vi…visit his wrath up…up here.”

He frowned. “Up here. Why are you up here?”

He turned his head once.

Nettie started to take a drink. The smell hit her nose, and she gagged. She turned over the bottle, and frowned. “Dwarf spirits?”

She ran and grabbed the glass from Erik. “Humans get drunk on a fifth of what you’ve had, Erik,” she said. “You just downed two bottles worth of whiskey.”

He shrugged, his entire body gyrating to a song only he could hear. “Emm FINE.”

“Erik, you know you could never handle liquor.”

“I can handle anything!” Erik shouted. “I’m your son!”

He shoved against the old man, weak and ineffective. Erik giggled, and nodded to Nettie.

“Oh, don’t, don’t worry. See, I’m not usually like this. I’m usually much more boring. Much more…” he put a finger to his lips, laughing.

“Sshhh. Don’t wake the baby.”

He laughed. “I’m the baby. I’m always the baby.”

“Erik, I need to talk to you, and you start getting drunk?” Harsk said.

“Sure, why not?” Erik said. He flung his arms out wide. “This way I can’t just go LALALALALALALA when you give me big life lessons about how hard the world is for those who don’t have legend in their veins.”

He snorted. “Hard. Nothing’s hard. Not for Harsk’s son.”

Erik turned to Nettie. “You seeing anybody?”

Nettie looked at Harsk. “I’m out of here.”

“No! Stay, stay.” Erik said. “I’m not as drunk as I’d like to be. Just gimme twenty minutes and we’ll have a grand old time.”

“Erik.”

“What?”

“There are demons.”

“There’s always demons,” Erik said. He swayed over to Nettie. “And there’s always fights. And glory. And a good rest for those who want it.”

He breathed out. nettie almost gagged on the smell.

“Can I help you out of those clothes?” he asked.

The bottle broke in her hands as she smashed it over his head. Erik crumpled to the ground, and collapsed.

Harsk sighed. “I hope you didn’t kill him.”

Nettie leaned down, and picked him up. Erik shivered, his breath still reeking onto her chest.

“Gimme a hand,” Nettie said.

The two struggled out a back door with Erik in hand. Carson ran around, looking at the young man.

“I’m assuming it’s not going well?” Carson asked.

“If someone could let…” Harsk trailed off. Who did he need to talk to? Who could talk sense into his boy?

“Find that wagon owner, John,” he finally said. “See if we can’t get some answers about Erik.”

“You got it, boss.” He looked at Harsk and Nettie as they kept walking down.

“You sure about that?”

“He’s drunk, but not intoxicated,” Harsk said. “And I need him conscious now.”

“He’s going to hate that.”

“He already hates me,” Harsk said. “What else can he do?”

Fair enough. Nettie threw Erik into the lake, and watched.

He gurgled under the water for a full half a minute. Harsk and Nettie had to look to each other, wondering if they had to check as to whether he was alive. Finally, he burst out of the water, hacking and coughing.

“You bastards!” He screamed. He spluttered water and curses, wiping water from his eyes. “I, I, I’m going to…to…”

He swayed, and fell back into the muck. Nettie groaned, and waded in. she picked up Erik, holding him up. He coughed, and spat out some algae.

“Thanks.”

She sucker-punched him, and spun him around. Erik doubled over, and vomited. Alcohol and breakfast spilled into the lake.

“Can’t have that settling in,” Nettie murmured.

“I hate…” He gulped, and barfed again.

“There you go.” Nettie patted his back once, and made her way out of the lake. “You can come out when you can make it on your own.”

“This was silk…”

Nettie ignored him, instead focusing her glare on Harsk. She walked up to the beach head, where he stood, arms folded.

“What is this guy?” Nettie asked.

“I wanted to keep him safe,” Harsk said.

“So you did what?” Nettie asked. “Coddle him?”

“I sent his mother money. I let him use my name as a father. He knew who I was.”

“And you were never there,” Nettie said. “So he grew up rich, Named, and not having to worry a damn thing about blame. What, did you buy him the house too?”

Harsk looked away.

“You damn hypocrite,” Nettie said. “The boy got a long line of passes. And Kait got to fight for her life. A life filled with terror, war. While this brat got to play housekeeper?”

Nettie stalked away. she couldn’t look at Harsk. Unbelievable, absolutely unbelievable. The sanctimonious hardass, always doing what’s best for the world. Always expecting those around him to measure up, to sacrifice. To spend their entire lives focused on the ideal of fighting for the good. All while he made sure his namby pamby son could live it up in style.

She looked up at the house, and sneered. Woodworking. Fine liquors, fine clothes. He wasn’t anything more than a ponce. And that was all thanks to Harsk.

Erik finally stumbled out of the lake, and fell to his knees. Harsk knelt down, and laid a hand on his son.

“You ok?”

Erik shrugged him off. He pointed at Nettie.

“You. You don’t know crap about me.”

“Really?” Nettie said. “Because I have a daughter. And she is worth ten times what you can offer.”

“You don’t know!” he shouted.

“I’m not just Harsk’s son. He hasn’t been here in over twenty years, he’s not me!”

He pounded his chest. “I built that house, me! With his money, I bought the tools, and I raised it up myself. I was able to make every piece of this house, and twenty others all around Last Peace. I built Last Peace!”

He swept his hair back. “I’m…I’m not just some dandy. I have worth. I am a part of this town.”

He pointed at Harsk. “But the only thing anyone ever sees is him. The only thing anyone ever wants to know is what Harsk is up to. Telling me what a great man he is. How lucky I am. I’m not lucky! I have worth! I matter!”

A baby cried out.

“Erik!”

Erik looked up, and winced. He put his head in the dirt, and wept.

“I hate my life.”

A woman stood in the midst of the Riders. Smartly dressed, her blonde hair bound up with a gold hairpiece. She glared down at him, brown eyes flared.

“Erick Harskson, do you have any idea what kind of a scene you are making?”

She cradled the six-month-old baby in her arms. The baby was wrapped in golden clothes, screaming.

“There, there, it’s all right. Erik was just being a fool. We’ll find someone to…oh, hush!” The woman pushed her baby into Carson’s arms. “Here. It’s hard enough taking care of one baby without worrying about another.”

“I…” Carson trailed off, and looked down at the baby. He smiled, and tickled her cheek.

“Who’s being held by the most whipped Rider in the country? You are! That’s right, you are!”

The Riders crowded around the child, laughing with her.

The woman made her way down, kneeling next to Erik. “Erik, you’re a mess. What happened?”

“I’m fine,” he muttered.

“You most certainly are not!” She retorted. “Look at the state of you. What is anyone going to think?”

“I don’t care.”

“I do. Let’s get you upstairs and in clean clothes.”

Harsk cleared his throat, and extended a hand. “Excuse me, miss?”

“Mrs.,” she said, lips curled. “My name is Mrs Ilda Swain. My husband Jon was the one your oafs tried to wrangle into helping Erik.”

“I see,” Harsk said. “So you’re a…a neighbor friend?”

“Of course. Now, will you help him back into the house, or will I have to dirty my skirt?”

Nettie rolled her eyes, but helped Erik up. Great, another ponce, and this time a woman. She didn’t know how to feel about that.

Harsk bowed his head. “Ma’am, we’ll get right on that.”

There was a big shuffling around as everyone tried to maneuver around each other. Nettie and Harsk managed to get Erik up into his own home, undressed and into warmer clothes without making Mrs. Swain tut too often. The Riders were finally let into the house, as they passed around the baby with glee.

Carson was left with changing the diaper twice. Somehow Ilda managed to steal herself away whenever her daughter was in need of help, in order to make sure Erik was all right.

Finally, after a long hour, and a lunch raided from the kitchen, Erik emerged, refreshed and surly. He went down to the living room.

“I’m awake, I’m alive,” Erik said.

“Finally,” Nettie muttered.

Erik looked at Harsk. The Rider sat in a rocking chair, examining his son’s woodcarving knife.

Erik walked over, and sat down in front of Harsk.

“You alive, son?” Harsk asked.

“And been thoroughly scolded by Ilda,” Erik said. “Thank you for not letting me drink myself to death.”

Harsk took out a whetstone, and started sharpening the blade. “You almost drank the lake.”

“Yup.”

“Not a good look.”

“Not at all.”

Harsk grunted.

“So why are you here, Harsk?” Erik asked. “It’s been twenty years.”

Harsk shrugged. “There’s demons about.”

“So you said.”

“And they’re getting organized.”

Erik frowned. “Demons don’t get organized.”

“These did. And from what my Riders tell me, they’re getting selective about which towns they decimate.”

“Now I know you’re talking nonsense,” Erik said. “Demons don’t choose. They rampage, tempt, and destroy whatever they can find. You taught me that.”

“And I was right. Now they’re focused,” Harsk said. “End the human race, while we’re still decimated and turned in on each other.”

Erik frowned. “I, I don’t know why this has anything to do with me.”

“You’re human,” Harsk said. “And once it’s found out you’re my son, things might get complicated.”

He handed the knife back to Erik. “Thought you should know.”

Erik took the knife. He looked at it, and up to Harsk.

“Ok.”

Harsk nodded. “That’s it.”

“Well. Thanks for coming.”

“Anytime.”

Harsk stood up, and moved over to the door. He opened it, walked outside, and sat on the chair, relaxing.

“You never change, do you?” Erik asked.

He sighed, and then put on a large smile. He walked into the kitchen. “Sorry I haven’t been a good host. Give me a sec to uncork something and…”

Carson nudged Erik away from the liquor cabinet.

“I think the only bottle we need right now is right here.” He held the baby in his arms, feeding her from a bottle.

Erik’s eyes bulged. “What are you doing with her?”

“We’re having lunch now, aren’t we?” Carson said. “Aren’t we?”

“Let go of Claire,” Erik breathed. “Now.”

“Is that her name?” Carson asked. “Isn’t she just the cutest little thing?”

Erik held his knife up. “I’m not going to ask again.”

Knives appeared in five Riders hands, pressed just inches away from Erik’s throat. He paled, looking around. The Riders glared at him, ready to strike.

Carson smiled. “Now don’t let the big scary man scare you. He’s just worried because things are a little up in the air, and the dumb guy holding a baby took away his coping juice.”

Carson winked to the Riders. “I think we’re good.”

The Riders relaxed, and left for the front door to sit around Harsk. Ilda made her way downstairs, looking down.

“Have they left?”

“Only the quiet ones, Mrs. Swain,” Erik said. “The ones who don’t talk are all around their master.”

Nettie snorted.

“You all don’t seem to be very nice,” Ilda said.

Nettie shrugged. “We’re not. We’re busy getting the job done.”

“Could you do it without the attitude?” she nodded to Carson. “He doesn’t seem to be a complete brute.”

“By design, ma’am,” Carson said. “By design. The Ride is not built up of heroes. We’re made of a lot of broken men, clinging to humanity.”

He smiled, looking down at Claire. “Normal people don’t belong in the Ride. Normal people look at what we do and think we’re legends. Heroes. When at its core we’re a bunch of head cases that Harsk has helped make sense of a world bent towards evil.”

He laughed. “That’s why you weren’t with us, kid,” he said. “Harsk doesn’t take anyone he doesn’t have to. He doesn’t make you go through what we do.”

“I could have handled it,” Erik said.

“Course you could,” Carson said. “It’s not a question of could. Harsk made sure you didn’t have to. And if I were a father, I’d move heaven and earth to make sure no one would ever have to.”

Erik sulked. He looked towards the bottle, and then to Claire. “Let her go.”

Ilda laid a hand on Erik’s arm. “Erik. You should relax.”

“I’m fine.”

“You keep saying that,” Nettie said. He was always saying he was fine.

“Leave me alone. In fact, why doesn’t everyone leave me alone?”

Nettie looked at Erik. Ilda leaned in close, drawing him in.

She glanced down at Claire, and then back up to Erik.

No. No, he didn’t.

She bit back a curse, and instead looked to Carson.

“I think we’re going to take a walk. Clear our heads.”

“We are?”

“We are. Maybe check out that inn.”

Nettie left, fuming, Carson in tow. They barely registered the other Riders as Nettie walked into town.

Those boys. That entire family! One abandoned child wasn’t enough, now they needed a set? Nettie started running, trying to walk away from them all.

“Nettie.”

Nettie couldn’t believe it. Carson was right next to her. With Claire. They had walked out with Erik and Ilda’s child, and they hadn’t even registered it. They just missed her completely.

“Nettie, slow down!”

Carson huffed along, panting.

“Keep up, Carson,” Nettie muttered.

“Not with a baby in tow!” He shouted.

Nettie stopped, and looked back. Carson cradled Claire delicately, trying to keep his steps measured. She gooed, bouncing with each motion.

He finally caught up with her, sweat dripping down his face. “Better.”

“They’re idiots,” Nettie muttered.

Carson frowned, and looked back towards the house. “What, the lovebirds?”

Nettie arched an eyebrow.

“Oh, come on. Give me a little credit.” He held up Claire. “See, she has grandpa Harsk’s little scowl already.”

Claire spit ahead, and started laughing.

“Lovely.”

“Seriously, how did you manage to Ride with one of these?”

Nettie smirked. “Well, I didn’t start Riding. But her uncles helped me along.”

She sighed. “Seriously, why is he like this? He’s supposed to be Harsk’s son.”

“Because he’s Harsk’s son.”

Nettie frowned. “What?”

Carson smiled, and kept walking. “Right. I’m the only Rider not in love with our fearless leader.”

He cradled Claire. “Harsk and all of us talk about how we’re forces for good. We do what no one else can. Fight demons, monsters, destroy evil. Legendary heroes.”

He shook his head. “But that’s not why we fight. We fight because we’re selfish.”

“Selfish?”

“Think about it. We’re all so broken and destroyed, so we take it out on the world until we feel better. We impose our own morals in an attempt to make sense of the world. And if anyone bugs us, we hit them until they stop.”

Carson curled Claire’s hair in his hands. “Harsk doesn’t teach us to be heroes. Just bullies, who happen to be killing something everyone hates. How messed up is that?”

“I couldn’t agree more.”

Nettie looked up. Cherdie stood in the middle of the road. Arms crossed, whistle sticking out of his mouth. Nettie was so focused on Carson and the child that she hadn’t heard him clank once.

“Cherdie,” Carson said. “What can I do for you?”

“Do for me?” Cherdie sneered. “I think you just said you can’t help.”

“That’s not what I…”

“IRRELEVANT!”

Cherdie bent down, and glared at Claire.

“Kidnapping a kid,” he glowered. “How could you?”

The sheriff picked up the child. “This needs to go back to her parent immediately!”

While Cherdie escorted Nettie and company back, Harsk leaned against the front door of his son’s house, trying to not look as embarrassed as he felt.

“He shows up for five minutes, and already you have started drinking.”

“It’s my father, Ilda. You know what he did.”

“I know that he put the clothes on your back. Food in your belly. This roof over your head.”

“I did that.”

“With his money.” Ilda paused. “You take a lot of freedoms with that which is not yours.”

“You didn’t seem to mind.”

“Mind? Mind that my husband works for a lover I can barely stand? Mind that this whole town has bent over backwards to support one vain manchild…that I cannot stop thinking about?”

Harsk nodded. There was the rub of it. Ilda and his son, caught up in the romance of it all. Bound up in small-town society, experimenting with the one taboo they could figure out. A safe sin.

“Why have you never asked me to leave my husband?”

“Because that’s not what we have.”

“We have a daughter, Erik. Harsk has a granddaughter that he’s never truly met.”

“And if I have anything to say about it, he never will.”

“Got a present for you, Harsk!”

Harsk turned to find a baby shoved in his face. He blinked, and looked into the smiling face of sheriff Cherdie, confused.

“I don’t want it,” Harsk said.

“Child!” Cherdie called out. “Everyone wants a child. Everyone needs a child! Child!”

“Child?” Ilda’s voice called out. “What child…where’s Claire?”

“Claire?” a chair was knocked over. “CLAIRE!”

Erik tore open the door. “Claire!”

Harsk held up his hands. “Rest, son. It’s ok. The sheriff has your daughter.”

Erik paled. He turned, and saw Cherdie. The sheriff smiled, cradling the child in his arms.

“NO!” Erik screamed. “No. Let go of her, you bastard!”

He dove for the sheriff. Harsk lunged forward, grabbing his son before he could assault Cherdie.

“Erik. What’s gotten into you?”

Claire started to cry. Erik thrashed in his father’s arms, screaming.

“You’re scaring the baby!” Nettie shouted.

“Let her go!” Erik wailed. “I’ve done all you asked. Let her go!”

Harsk frowned, and looked at Cherdie.

The sheriff smiled, cooing to the baby.

“But we were about to have a family reunion,” Cherdie said.

Horns grew out of the top of his head.

“All we’re missing is my daughter.”

End Part 1

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Thank you for reading. I hope that this sparked a piece of magic for you this week.

Until next time.

Blessings,

Jack Holder

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