It was not entirely apparent whether the man could in fact, ‘see’ Scott’s meaning. However, he made no further fuss about the slightly dripping bag of flesh. He had already seen far worse in the last forty-eight hours.

Scott spoke briefly with Sonja then followed Rifle Guy through the halls of the police station. A sense of nostalgia came to him as he realized that little had changed since the last two times that he had come to the place. The lack of handcuffs, of course, was the chief difference.

Before the day he was taken into custody, he had been to the station several times to visit his father. In some part of his childish mind, he had always wanted to be a police officer like his father. It was something of a family business, really. His grandfather, though he died before Scott was born, was also a police officer. He had even served as sheriff, just as his own father had done for a time before falling back into regular police work when he made tried to run for mayor.

He could not hold both positions, and certainly could not run for one while he currently held the other. During that year he had joined up with his old friend and former partner on the force, Derrick Payne. That too, was not a typical action. In many eyes it was seen as the acceptance of a serious demotion. However, the longtime mayor of the city Howard James, was somewhat notorious among members of the police department. Nothing could be officially pinned on him, but there were many serious suspicions floating around pertaining to the man. Even today, he still ran the town.

Scott blinked when he heard his name. Rifle Guy had called out to him, but he was lost in thought. The police station brought back old memories, ones that he had thought to be forgotten long ago.

“Ah. Yes. Thank you,” he replied. Scott nodded to the man then headed into the locker room. It was not a particularly large area, as the city itself barely warranted the title of, ‘city.’ Even so, he had it all to himself.

He peeled off his ruined clothing then sighed as he took in the sight of his bruised and battered body. “Guess that helps with my first impression,” he said softly. The other deputized men of the local posse probably thought that he had fought like hell against those monsters considering what he looked like. Scott decided not to disillusion them.

Unless he looked into their minds, he would not know that for certain anyway. So, for him it was not a problem.

The hot water of the shower rained down on him and he sighed blissfully. He needed it after his most recent lack of willpower. He had known, felt it deeply, that he was pushing things with his synergy. Something had come over him, however. During that time, he had almost thought to be something akin to destiny, but the more he thought about it the more it felt simply like a mixture of hope and greed.

Dragons did enjoy their treasures. They were consummate capitalists, really. They hoarded wealth and luxuriated atop it. He could not help but wonder, in those brief minutes when the hot water washed away his concerns, if that so-called feeling of destiny was merely his draconic desire for loot. He may be some sort of god to the dragons, but in the end a dragon was still a dragon. They gathered and protected that which they deemed to be their treasure. He would need to temper that base desire with greater foresight in the future. He hurt Sonja and Branwen, even if they readily forgave him for his lack of intelligence on the matter.

Of course, there could be more to it than simple greed. He had been convinced that something good would happen if he kept pushing the situation. As things turned out, that instinct was not wrong, but he lacked the proper skill and strength to make it happen in a safe and efficient manner.

“Greed for treasure mixed with a strong sense that there was one just out of reach…” Scott whispered softly to himself. It made sense now. After the armor was made, and his forced nap occurred, he no longer held that sense of destiny. If anything, he was exhausted to the core. It was like he had given birth, or the closest he might come to such a feat.

He wanted to try on his new armor, but his injuries were taking their sweet time in healing. Even for him, the injuries must have been immense. The only saving grace was the fact that they were spread all over his body instead of focused in one area.

His shower came to an end, and he turned the water off. Scott stood there dripping for a moment, lost in thought.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the police station, Sheriff Payne stood at a window on the second floor that overlooked the parking lot. Near him stood an older woman with short frizzy hair and tired eyes. “Derrick speak to me. Tell me what’s wrong?”

He continued to look out the window, though his hands slowly curled into fists. “I wasn’t.”

“What do you mean?” she asked him.

“Wrong,” he said with conviction.

“Will you please just tell me what’s going on? Why do you want to move me and Stacy from here?” she asked. “You said it was safer than the house.”

“It was— is,” he opened his hands then gripped the windowsill tight enough to make his knuckles turn white. “I just think you should be somewhere else.”

“I know you better than that,” said Diane. “Talk to me?”

He did not answer her. Not in words. He closed his eyes and held them tightly shut. It was obvious that he struggled with something internally.

“Derrick. Please,” she pleaded with him.

“The eyes,” he said in a quiet and sober tone. “I wasn’t wrong about those eyes…”

“Eyes?” she asked him. “What do you—”

Diane stopped cold then drew back slightly from her husband. “No. You don’t mean what you thought you saw all those years ago?”

He did not speak. The silence became almost oppressive.

Eventually, Diane broke through that silence by reaching out to her husband. “Derrick, it was a trick of the light. You said so, yourself. The things you saw that day…”

“The eyes. The teeth. All of it.” Derrick turned from the window and looked to his wife. “That boy has them all now, and everyone can see them.”

Diane blinked quickly then slowly raised her hands to her mouth. “You can’t be serious. You really think that happened?”

“I don’t know what to think!” exclaimed Derrick. “You know I was never that religious, despite how my grandmother tried to make me go to church.”

“Scott isn’t Satan, Derrick,” said Diane. “He. What that man did to little Liz.”

Derrick shook his head then looked her in the eyes. “I love you. You know I do… but you weren’t there that day.”

His hands rose up and began to tremble a little while he stared at them. “I’ve seen things. The worst humanity has to offer, or so I thought… but this…”

Derrick’s mouth fell open and he tried to breathe, but it proved difficult. “There was this feeling in the room.”

He looked from his hands to his wife. “I was scared Diane. Absolutely Terrified.”

“So much blood. I’ve been on drug raids with fire fights that went on for over an hour and never seen anything light it.” Derrick shook his head slowly as he relived that day. “Scott just kept beating that bastard over and over again. I swear it looked like his head caved in with each strike, but he just didn’t die.”

“I thought I had gone insane,” said Derrick. “There was that… There was Liz lying there on the floor, and there was Scott just wailing on that pile of trash.”

“It must have been rough, honey, but—” said Diane. Derrick waved her off while he shook his head.

“No. It, I could handle that.” Derrick shuddered involuntarily then said, “It was when I tried to pull Scott off the man that it happened.”

“Derrick…” said Diane.

“He— It looked at me.” Sheriff Payne began to rub the back of his hand as though her were trying to wash it in an invisible sink. His eyes lost focus and his breathing intensified. “Those red eyes, with slits like a snake… maybe a cat?”

“Honey. It can’t be real,” said Diane.

“He growled at me like an animal, those fangs of his… I saw them,” said Derrick.

“Scott isn’t possessed by the devil,” said Diane. “You said it yourself! You believe that he was justified in what he did.”

Derrick nodded, “Yes. I do, but I—”

“Other than that man, who has he ever hurt?” asked Diane.

“No one… that I know of…” said Derrick.

“You didn’t start going to church properly till a few years ago, but you know something…” said Diane.

“What?” he asked seriously.

“It happens a lot in the bible… God sends an evil spirit to punish and torment the wicked…” said Diane.

“You saying this is a thing sent by god?” asked Derrick, though now he had a hint of disbelief in his tone.

“Ask pharaoh about those plagues that hit Egypt,” said Diane with a smile. “God even sent the angel of death to take all the firstborn sons…”

Derrick scratched the side of his face. “I don’t know… Maybe I’m just remembering things funny.”

“Oh? Now you’re remembering funny?” asked Diane with a snort.

He shook his head slowly. “I don’t know. I thought I knew. Thought I had seen things that weren’t real. Now, I just don’t know.”

“Derrick,” said Diane. “Do you really think Scott would hurt us?”

Sheriff Payne closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them again, he whispered, “No. Scott wouldn’t.”

Diane looked at her husband quietly for a moment. She did not trust herself to speak.