Being spotted by the deputy, Larc immediately surmised that he was in a bit of a pickle. This was a complicated situation. And while he had always been taught to treat authority with respect and to keep his head down as to not draw attention to himself … he more often than not would just avoid authority figures entirely. They made him nervous.
But of all the centuries the warlock had walked the earth, he couldn’t recollect a time when he’d encountered law enforcement of a more supernatural origin. And he could sense it, oh yes, he could sense it clearly upon locking eyes with the deputy. He could feel the otherworldly flames as he felt the other natural elements …
He couldn’t run from this; he couldn’t just ignore this encounter. Not only was this a deputy, but a hound of Hell … when it came to being arrested or being mauled to death, he wasn’t sure which was worse. Perhaps this would become a silent stand-off.
He gripped the straps of his backpack slightly tighter. There was no escaping this. If he was truly a hellhound, then the deputy would already sense the fact that Larc was no ordinary boy. There was no point in keeping up a charade. If this man was as Larc sensed he was, then for all intents and purposes, they should be … how did Julian put it … ‘playing for the same team’?
He hoped so.
So he tried.
“Need some help?” he asked with a quiet carefulness. He didn’t want to intrude, but he also wanted to establish that he wasn’t there to cause trouble. The last thing he wanted at that moment was to get on the bad side of a hellhound.
After that short moment of unusual for him vacillation, the hellhound seemed to be unshakeably engrossed in his task again. His ultimate concentration and strangely precise motions might have been resembling a state of trance.
He took out the body and unwrapping it slowly yet decisively from the black bag, lifted it up to hold in his arms. He was already making the first steps towards the woods, when the boy spoke. While the creature seemed unimpressed by the descending distance between them, the child’s voice somehow manage to distract him again. As he was turning his head to look at the boy once more, something odd happened. Suddenly, his face twisted in a grimace of pain or rather a struggle and his eyes, second ago violently shut, now changed. There was no single flame in them, only olive green - so characterictic for Deputy Parrish. They swept around the surroundings, lost, unsure, shaken. But Jordan wasn’t given much time; after noticing the boy and then realising what was the source of the weight on his arms, the hellhound came back, tearing the control away from Parrish again and not letting him speak a word.
He must go.
Not looking at the boy again, he slightly sped up his steps. Though it didn’t seem that he would mind being followed. Since the boy belonged to the supernatural world too, it didn’t matter.
The closer to the Nemeton he was, the warmer his body was becoming. Soon, the air was filled with smell of burning fabric, as his clothes turned into ash. Laying the dead chimera among the other bodies piled up all around the huge stump, he himself sat down in the middle of the cut tree. Flames wrapped his naked skin and enclosed the sacred area within a fiery ring. He lifted up his head, so far hidden in hands, and his eyes glowed even brighter.
The duty was fulfilled.
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