Chapter 22 #2
But Jorund had prepared for this. He’d probably anticipated every counterargument.
"Demons are patient. Strategic. They build trust before they strike.
" He turned to address the crowd, performing for them rather than speaking to her.
"Think about it. A stranger appears and takes over the homestead.
She demonstrates no useful skills and should fail like any city-soft outsider.
But she doesn't fail. Instead she prospers.
And why? Because a convenient 'traveler' appears with technology beyond our understanding.
He teaches her. He helps her. He binds her to him through gratitude and dependency. "
Dependency. The word made her stomach clench. Not because it was true, but because it wasn't. She'd chosen Klaus freely. She had fallen in love with him because of who he was, not what he could provide. But explaining love to people convinced she was corrupted would only prove their point.
"Klaus is not manipulating me. He's been nothing but helpful and kind.
To me, to Theo, to anyone who's needed assistance.
How many of you have benefited from his knowledge?
" She looked at the crowd. "Henrik, your firewood stacks haven't collapsed since he showed you the proper technique.
Thomas, your forge burns hotter with the modifications he suggested.
Anna, your daughter smiles now because of a toy he helped create. Are those the actions of a demon?"
"They're the actions of something establishing trust before exploitation." Jorund's voice was patient, as if explaining to a slow child. "That's how corruption works, Talia. Slow. Subtle. Making itself indispensable before revealing its true nature."
"And what is his true nature? Specifically. What has he actually done that's harmful?"
"He exists. His presence here defies natural law. His capabilities exceed mortal limits. His very being radiates wrongness that we all feel instinctively."
"You mean he's different. Foreign. Beyond your understanding. So you've decided he must be destroyed."
"We've decided the village must be protected. From threats we don't fully comprehend. That's not persecution, Talia. It's basic survival."
The argument was circular. Unprovable. Designed to justify whatever action Jorund had already decided upon. She recognized the technique from her parents' creditors—create an impossible standard of proof, then act when it inevitably failed to be met.
Her hands curled into fists, her nails digging into her palms. The pain kept her focused, kept the tears threatening behind her eyes from falling.
Don't show weakness. Don't give them satisfaction.
"What do you want?" Her voice was flat. Exhausted. "Specifically. What action would satisfy you that we pose no threat?"
Jorund's smile was gentle. Understanding. The expression of someone about to deliver mercy. "The creature leaves. Tonight. Abandons whatever corrupting influence it has established and departs beyond our borders. Never to return."
"He has a name. Klaus. He's a person, not a thing."
"Then let Klaus prove his personhood. Let him demonstrate a conscience by removing himself voluntarily rather than forcing us to take more aggressive measures."
Aggressive measures. The euphemism made her skin crawl. Meaning violence. Meaning blood. Meaning they'd kill Klaus if given the opportunity, then justify it as community defense.
Over her dead body.
The thought arrived with crystalline clarity. She'd failed so many people—her parents, her sister, Theo in the early months after Sarah's death. But she wouldn't fail Klaus. She wouldn't let him be destroyed by fear and ignorance.
Even if standing between him and a mob meant her own destruction.
"He stays. This is my property. My home. I decide who's welcome here."
"This was your sister's property," Jorund corrected. "Held in trust for her son. Do you really think Sarah would approve of you exposing Theo to unnatural influence? Of risking his immortal soul for your own loneliness?"
He was weaponizing her grief and guilt, turning her love for Klaus into something shameful and selfish.
"Sarah would want Theo safe and happy. Which he is. For the first time since she died, he's happy. Because Klaus treats him with kindness and patience. He reads to him. He makes him toys. He shows him that not all adults will abandon or hurt him."
"He shows him that unnatural things can wear masks of kindness. Grooming him for future corruption."
"Stop." The word ripped out of her. "Stop twisting everything good into something evil. Stop seeing threats in every kindness. Stop being so afraid of what you don't understand that you destroy anything different."
"We understand enough." Jorund's voice hardened. "We understand that demons lie. That corruption wears pleasant faces. That evil rarely announces itself with horns and flames."
"Klaus has horns," she said flatly. "Large, black, obvious horns. Also white skin and unnatural height and strength. He's never pretended to be human. He’s never lied about what he is. If he wanted to deceive you, don't you think he'd have hidden those things?"
The logic landed. She saw it register, saw doubt flicker across faces. Anna actually lowered her torch slightly. Henrik shifted again, clearly uncomfortable.
But Jorund had answers for everything. "Physical appearance means nothing. Demons can manifest however they choose. His visibility simply proves arrogance. Confidence that we're too primitive to threaten him."
"Then why hasn't he threatened you? If he's so powerful and arrogant, why tolerate your accusations? Why not simply destroy the opposition and take what he wants?"
"Because he's patient. Strategic. Waiting for optimal moment to—"
"Or maybe," she interrupted, voice sharp with frustration, "he's exactly what he claims. A traveler. Stranded by accident. Trying to survive. Helping those around him because cooperation is more logical than conflict. Not everything is a conspiracy, Jorund. Sometimes a person is just a person."
"People don’t possess tools that work by means we can't comprehend. Don't demonstrate strength that defies natural limits." Jorund's eyes were hard. "I don't know what that creature is. But I know what it isn't. And that's enough."
The mob murmured agreement. Torch light flickered across determined faces. Tools shifted in calloused hands, ready to become weapons if necessary. They'd already decided. Everything else was performance. Justification for actions they'd committed to before arriving.
Her heart hammered against her ribs. Where was Klaus? Had he seen the mob approaching and fled, preserving himself? Had he been captured somehow? Was he even now lying injured in the snow while she stood here defending an empty homestead?
No. She rejected the thought. Klaus wouldn't abandon them. He wouldn't run. His Tandroki discipline might scream logical retreat, but his heart—the heart he'd claimed didn't exist, that he'd slowly revealed over three months of connection—that heart was bound to her and Theo.
He was coming. Had to be coming.
She just needed to hold them off until he arrived.
"I'm not letting you in. This is my home. My property. You want to violate that, you'll have to go through me."
"Don't be foolish." Jorund's voice was almost pitying. "We outnumber you significantly. We have legal justification for community defense. Forcing confrontation helps no one."
"Then leave. Come back in daylight. With witnesses who aren't already convinced of our guilt. We'll answer questions. Demonstrate the tools. Prove we're no threat. But not like this. Not as a mob in the darkness."
"The darkness is when demons are strongest. When their influence spreads. We can't risk waiting."
"You can't risk being proven wrong. You can't risk discovering that your fear is unjustified, your righteousness misplaced. Because then you'd have to face what you really are—bullies. Cowards. People so afraid of the unknown that you'd rather destroy it than understand it."
The words hung in the cold air. Truth spoken with enough force to penetrate mob psychology.
To make individuals remember themselves, their values, who they were before fear unified them into a weapon.
Henrik lowered his tool. Anna's torch dipped.
Albert nodded slightly, approval in his grim expression.
But Jorund was already countering, already reweaving the narrative. "Fear is wisdom when facing genuine threat. Caution is a virtue when protecting loved ones. And strength—" His voice rose. "—strength is standing together against corruption. No matter how pleasantly it presents itself."
The crowd firmed again. They were the righteous. The defenders. The last bastion against demonic infiltration.
And Talia was alone. Again. Always alone when it mattered most.
Where are you, Klaus?
The thought was prayer and accusation. She needed him. She needed his strength, his tactical mind, his overwhelming capability. She needed him to appear and make this simple—prove he could destroy them all, and therefore should be respected rather than threatened.
But that would only prove Jorund right. Would transform Klaus from person into weapon. Would eliminate any hope of the life they'd started building.
The door behind her creaked. Talia's heart stopped. Theo wouldn't disobey, wouldn't leave the bedroom unless—
The door swung fully open.
Klaus stood there, his massive frame backlit by warm lamplight.
He'd removed his shirt, probably to emphasize his alien physiology.
White skin almost glowing in the dimness.
Horns curving sharp and black from his forehead.
Every muscle sculpted by Tandroki discipline, powerful and precise and undeniably inhuman.
He looked exactly like what Jorund claimed he was. And Talia had never loved him more.