Page 97 of In Your Light

Their four children watched with wide, curious eyes, and Áine smiled and waved.

“Hi,” Fyn said, giving a bit of a wave back. It was adorable. Then he held up their joined hands and smiled. “So this happened, and I know it might not be entirely welcomed and that’s okay. But I love him. I’ve only been here for a few days, and I want you all to know that I appreciate how nice you’ve all been to me. And if it’s decided we can’t stay here in Tenebrae, that’s okay too. I still appreciate you all.” He looked at Hadeom as a cue for him to start, giving him a reassuring smile and squeezed his hand in a way that told Hadeom he wasn’t going anywhere.

Hadeom needed that more than he’d like to admit.

Which was crazy, considering who he was... or, rather, who he used to be.

“I think it’s safe to assume, Fyn, that if it is decided you can’t stay in Tenebrae, it’s not a reflection on you, but of me.”

“Correct,” Salem said.

“That’s fair,” Hadeom said. “I cannot dispute that.”

“So, were you actually my boss?” Sawyer asked. “Am I even still employed by Tasmania Police? Or was that all just a sham?”

Hadeom should have expected Sawyer to ask that. “Yes, I was your boss. Technically, I still am. I do head the special cases unit. Or, I did. I’m more of an independent contractor.”

Fray made a face. “What kind of god volunteers for a government job?”

A few of them laughed, which was also fair. “A very bored one,” Hadeom said. “And not for the money, I can assure you. I’ve spent a very long time doing what I do. You’d be surprised what resources and access—and anonymity—a badge can get you. In an age of technology and surveillance, it helps to be on Big Brother’s side.”

“That’s messed up,” Hendrix said.

“Yes. But it also helped that I was the one privy to the existence of folks like you rather than someone else. Someone who would exploit or extort. Or expose.”

Sawyer nodded. He got it. He understood that perspective, at least.

“A few thousand years ago, humans would pray and plead for me to come take away the big scary monster. And sometimes those monsters were actually that.”

“Lusca,” Ciaran said.

“Yes.” Hadeom nodded. “Early on, there were many monsters, or so they were called.”

“They weren’t all monsters,” Salem said, his voice cold.

Hadeom felt a heaviness in his chest. “No. They weren’t. I know that now. And Salem, saying sorry to you is grossly inadequate. You have every right to hate me. I would never deprive you of that. I don’t expect your forgiveness. I wouldn’t insult you by asking for it.”

The room was silent and heavy, but Hadeom wasn’t done. He needed to get this out.

Not to inflict more pain, but to hopefully take a first step in the long road to healing.

“You were all witness to my meltdown the other day,” he said. “I’ve been struggling and not coping. With who I am and what I’ve done. The toll was too great. Cern sent me to the hut to rest and to try and reconnect with my true self. My raven form. I hadn’t morphed in a long time.” He shrugged. “Centuries.”

Every shifter in the room winced.

Hadeom gave a nod. “I’d forgotten how,” he said with a sad smile. “Though I think Cern sending me to the hut had more to do with initiating contact with Fyn.”

Fyn grinned. “You think so?”

“Yeah.” But then he sighed, needing to get the conversation back on track. “I am responsible for so much death and destruction,” Hadeom said. There was no other way to put it. “Countless, endless, and after so many years, nameless. But then I saw Salem.”

Everyone stared. “What?” Sawyer asked.

“Please let me finish.” Hadeom’s smile was sad, pitiful. “I had been searching for him for ohhh, a very long time. Mimics were...”

“Hunted,” Ciaran provided.

Hadeom nodded. “I am the slayer of monsters, and I am very good at my job. Or, rather, I was....” Hadeom’s face twisted with regret. “And when I saw Salem... I knew he was here when I saw the water, and he would’ve been the very last one. The last Mimic, the last monster. But I’d already decided to let him live. I was done with the killing. I’m so sick of the burden of death. After Lusca, I couldn’t face one more. I told Cern I was done. Maybe I was already broken then. Maybe I’d been broken for so long. He sent me to the hut to... heal.”