I wish I could have claimed this turn of events was completely unexpected. Hindsight, as always, is currently lecturing me on all the subtle warning signs I could have picked up on earlier. Instead of picking up on the fear and worry lingering on the faces of the peasantry, which I assumed were the superstitions from a bygone age, I landed myself in yet another disaster. I had long abandoned the thought that this girl I was traveling with would keep me away from trouble. Trouble seemed to follow her. Worse yet, she seemed to flourish in its presence and sought it out. I would have to start taking it upon myself to keep myself out of harms way. Being surrounded by heavily armored and professional thugs and being leered at by a pair of sociopath eyes was a very bad place to start doing so.

 

The tell-tale word, Inquisition, something you read about in books and movies; not something you get threatened with. Certainly not when you're a strange man in a strange land standing before agents of an institution hell-bent on ensuring the populace remains faithful to some religion with customs and beliefs you haven't the slightest idea of. This was all very three centuries ago and it's hard to know when you've broken some rule under the punishment of heinous torture or death.

 

     The Inquisitor spoke up, “How rude of me. Forgetting to introduce myself. You will have to forgive me.”

 

He didn't bow, extend a handshake or remove that obnoxious hat of his; he remained stiff as a board. I took that as another bad sign.

 

     “I am Inquisitor Zerin.” His head slowly swept to Rosette and back to me, “And the Thorn Knight, your reputation proceeds you.”

 

     I attempted to get a word in edgewise, “We're just passing through. Don't mind-”

 

     “Oh, but I do mind!” His voice was tinted with some very not so subtle mockery, almost babyish, “The poor merchant's son lost so far from home. In the company of evil's spawn no less. Such a disgraceful display. Such poor execution of judgement. A monster for an escort? This far north? Surely they should have taught you better. People might start getting ideas about you. They might start to gossip,” His voice took another one hundred eighty degree turn toward cold and insidious, “In the northern lands where the peace with The Almighty is kept proper, these things are not condoned.”

 

I once more tried to speak, but I was again cut off when he began spewing vitriol again.

 

     “But alas, such a sad fate of the poor wandering merchant boy! Surely the deviant, this monster, this hell spawn has taken you hostage!”

 

My heart thumped in my chest. I suppose he was right in a sense. A hostage free to go where he wills, but with a captor that will not leave him.

 

     “The fiery Thorn Knight! Clawing her way up from the depths of hell to prey upon the poor meager souls of mortal God fearing men! To think a guild member of the Free Ports, someone with the trust of the Doges, and consent of his Almighty's church, would betray her terms! To think the honorable Thorn Knight would bring herself down to acting like the other licentious beasts!” A single eye opened which stared at me, implored me and advised me to play along, “If proof of such a misdeed, just a few simple words, if they were to fall upon my ears, I would have to act! I would act and within my power restore order and see the guilty see their just punishment!”

 

And there is where I caught on. He definitely had a theatrical flair to him. It almost reminded me of a certain Salamander. I nearly turned my head to get one last look at Rosette. I was curious what the expression on her face was. Instead, I cast my eyes down on the muddy street. If there ever was a chance to get out of the situation I had been thrown, now was certainly it. I raised my eyes from the street. Along the way I spotted out of the corner of  my eye my own shadow and another beside it. I could almost not see the difference, except for the tail. Stiff and still, it hung there always burning, but now barely burning. Before my gaze returned to the Inquisitor, I shut my eyes and took a deep breath and exhaled slowly.

 

     I opened my eyes and locked them onto Zerin's own gaze, “No. She's with me.”

 

At first his face didn't budge. Not a single emotion slipped through. In return I continued to glare at him. I tried my best to stare him down, but a sudden radiation of warmth on my side forced me to crack a wry smile. I said I wasn't going to run away; I decided I was going to keep my word. There was no way for me to know what was going through this sadistic man's head; but given the choice between the two, I think it was a safer bet to put my life in the hands, claws rather, of the one who risked her own life to save my own.

 

     “Sir, you are quite the mystery to me.” Zerin's eyes, barely visible behind his squint, gleamed for but a moment. The pleasantries were dropped. His attitude, his posture and his tone of voice, all of it shifted very suddenly like a cat's curious and malicious stare. I suppose that would make me the mouse which had just become aware of its surroundings but too late. “Now that I think of it, those are odd garments you're wearing. I do not believe I've seen such a fashion in the Free Ports. Nor anywhere.”

 

So my little make believe at the gate was no longer going to be taken at face value? I suppose it was easiest to kill a nobody after all. Just a few choice words and he was already at the walls of my cover story. There was an inflection in his voice that was a cocktail of false joviality and sloth that betrayed how fast he worked. I had to admit; I was impressed with that well practiced demeanor. It was soothing in a way; it was as if he was hiding the knife he'd slit my throat with. He was saving me the time I'd spend panicking for the last bit of my life if he simply waved it in front of my face. If he hadn't blatantly confessed who he was, anyone might believe he was anything other than a ruthless murderer. I looked back and forth for the smallest chance of an opening to escape, but the eyes of the people, watching from the buildings surrounding us, were tired and resigned; it was as if something terrible had already happened, but they were dull to it.

 

I risked a glance to my side to see Rosette poised like a bow, pulled back and ready to let loose. Every muscle on her was tense and her claws, stiff and motionless. It reminded me of a gunman in a Spaghetti Western. In a single movement she'd draw that sword, the men surrounding would arm themselves and it would get very bloody very quickly. I've seen what she is capable of, but I wouldn't risk her life or my own by fighting our way out. They were all armed and, no doubt, well trained fighters; how they compared to seven foot tall Amazons I didn't know. I wasn't willing to find out.

 

My options were dwindling, each thread I found was being cut by this Inquisitor, one by one, as if it was a sick game to him to prolong his business here. Ignorance of whatever law or custom I had broken wasn't going to be a defense. Stupidity wouldn't fare much better, that option was long gone now. All I had left was madness.

 

     I flashed the man a smile, “No Mr. Inquisitor, not anywhere. Just anywhen.”

 

An awkward silence fell over the gathering. I kept eye contact with the Inquisitor and didn't break it. I simply smiled back at him with the exact same smile he graced me with. He stared at me as if he was trying to dig right down into my soul. What I had said wasn't technically wrong; I may as well be from the future relative to where I was now. I didn't know exactly where I was in relation to my home, but I was hundreds of years beyond what era this world was wallowing in. If he had a talent for discerning lies—some special gift or even magic I couldn't comprehend—there was no way he would be to tell if I was lying. For just one brief moment, a lapse in his professional face told me that I got under his skin. The corners of his lips curled, and his brow twitched involuntarily.

 

     I decided to continue, “I'd tell you where I came from, but I can't quite tell you about a place that you've never heard of,” I punctuated by raised my hands palms up and shrugging my shoulders.

 

The reaction was terrific. It wasn't obvious; it was very subtle, but even I could spot the evaporation of the professionally pleasant smile as his face turned to a bitter hostile desert. Being mocked was certainly not something this man was accustomed to. Was he ready to persecute a fool? Was he really ready to do something like that in front of an audience? My options were rather limited. I had thought of trying to explain other worlds, worm holes and other science fiction explanations for my being here, but I decided against it. I had to be more subtle than that. The same reaction was shared by everyone watching; they all looked at each other to see if there was anyone among them who had any idea what I was talking about. Even Rosette was baffled. I merely gave her a wink to play along or continue staying quiet.

 

     Covered head to toe in thick plate armor atop her steed, the voice of a young woman interrupted, “Sir Zerin-”

 

     The Inquisitor Zerin held up his hand to silence her before he continued, “Perhaps you do not understand the seriousness of this encounter.” There were daggers in his eyes, even if his voice was straining to keep that signature professional and calm kindness.

 

     “Did we accidentally get in the way of your little parade down the street?” I proposed nonchalantly. “Your lecture is a little off-topic if that's it.”

 

I looked over my shoulder toward Rosette on reflex and regretted it. There was fear in her eyes the likes of which I had not seen. I realized something so simple as innocent until proven guilty may not apply to my situation right now. When I put two and two together I remembered where I was. My long-shot chance may have not helped the situation at all. My options had run out, and I was sure to face the consequences of them failing.

 

     Zerin continued, almost seething through his teeth, “In the presence of the detestable, despicable and vile creatures beyond the realms of men. The worst display of heresy imaginable.”

 

     "That is quite enough, Zerin!" An old man's voice bellowed out from behind his curtain of men clad in steel.

 

The building tension snapped, closed shut and veered off onto the new actor hobbling up onto the stage. A crown of matted hair with a bald spot, a wrinkled and sullen face with pallid skin, almost grey and creased with wrinkles. Her meandered down the muddy street with a friar's robe around her protruding gut. A simple rope tied around his waist and nothing but muddy and caked sandals oozing mud between his borderline club foot toes.

 

     "Have you not done quite enough in this town that you would molest travelers?" the man said, slipping through the soldiers who actually parted for him.

 

Whoever this was, despite his humble visage, commanded a lot of respect. It's not purely from the booming in his voice which did not match his aged and weary physique.

 

     "Father Talmong," Zerin said, through clenched teeth. "I don't need to answer to—"

 

     "You are not judge, jury and executioner of us all," Talmong said, chasting the younger man. "If he is from the Free Ports, you don't have the right without a proper trial. Would you deny our Lord his due part in judging the souls of men?"

 

     "You would do well to remember your place, old man," Zerin lashed back, dropping all pretense of formality. "I am empowered by the Grand Cardinal council to root out the corruption in this forsaken frontier."

 

     "So you can boast of your count and be rid of this place?"

 

     Zerin's eyes lit up like a sky filled with fireworks, "You dare!"

 

     "You've hounded and preyed upon my flock long enough!" Talmong, the friar(?), did no back down either.

 

     "I will not stand idly by why these bumpkins, these outcasts, these spawn of penal misfits, turn their back on the Empire!" Zerin is now screaming. "No monster will sink her claws into these last bastions of his Church so long as I am tasked with preserving them!"

 

I tore my eyes away long enough to see that we were no longer alone in the street. Faces dared peer out of windows and from around corners. The townspeople who had hidden themselves away were now beginning to watch with rapt attention. It was not lost on Zerin either, whose eyes darted back and forth. A pressure not only started bearing down on him from the old man, but from dozens of prying eyes.

 

I then stole a glance back at Rosette. That alone was enough for a series of dots to connect and the true weight of the situation unfolding meant.. My thoughts and feelings on the hospitality that Rosette had offered to me as a stranger and then as a mate, so she claimed, were definitely an outlier compared to the other receptions I received. The looks on the villagers' faces as the two of us passed by filled with a sense of dread toward another. Rosette had looked so calm, cool and professional; I had let my own guard down and simply allowed myself to be carried along with the flow.

 

     My next words came out in a panic, “She hasn't done a thing.”

 

The atmosphere had changed quite a bit now. It seemed my act was also over. Zerin's expression changed. He had been so focused on the old man he had nearly forgotten me. I gave myself a mental kick in the rear end, because I had been standing there like an idiot in the eye of the storm till now. Once again the hurricane winds of fury were focused back onto me and I nearly physically recoiled. His anger seemed to have subsided. His smile returned. What was alarming about that smile was that this time it seemed genuine. His face looked like he had been let in on some great joke at my expense. I turned to look at Rosette again, and I finally understood where I had been making my mistake all along. Her face carried the same amount of worry and fear, but her eyes looked at me not as if asking for help. She wasn't worried for herself; she was concerned about me.

 

     Gleefully Zerin continued, “The Thorn Knight. She is an esteemed gilded individual with a writ signed by many powers that be that lie outside my own grasp. I may not approve, but it is not my duty to advise the hands of those with the power to sign their signatures on such a document.” His cold dead eyes opened once again and looked right at me. “Within my power is to punish men for breaking the covenant.”

 

     I hurried to defend myself; my words almost tripping over each other, “I don't know what you're talking about.”

 

     “Your feinted ignorance does not amuse me.” Zerin raised his voice and cut me off. “By the covenant of The One God no son of man shall consort and lay with something of another being.  All followers of his will shall be baptized and brought under his love and protection. To shield their stray souls from the winds of cruelty that sweep the earth. Never shall he forsake those who offer their complete love onto him, for those bodies and minds which do not turn to evil will forever have his love in this life and the next. His hand will protect them from the wicked evils that live outside his light and prey upon his children.”

 

     My own panic had itself turned to anger, and I lashed out, “And your point is?”

 

     “I find you guilty of breaking the most sacred rule of the covenant!”

 

     "Zerin, that is enough!" old man Talmong tried to interject. “What proof do you have?”

 

     “By the grace of the Almighty, who entrusted me with eyes that no lie can fool! I can see your guilt in every fiber of your being!”

 

Persecution for having relationships and sex with monsters? I could certainly understand the anger after being victimized. Being hunted for half a day by a group of flirtatious and curvaceous brutes and enslaved by muscular warrior women may cause some animosity between the captor and the captive. But turning on the victim and purging them? I thought it was mad at best and vicious at worst. Were the people so powerless that they had to turn their anger on those attacked and taken prisoner? Perhaps some men threw themselves into the wild willingly, and this kind of overreaction was to prevent feeding the monsters what they wanted?

 

While lost in thought, I was brought back to reality when I sensed Rosette shifting beside me. I saw Zerin's armed escort prepare to draw their weapons as well. A fight would break out very soon, and it would be very deadly. I'm sure many of those surrounding us would die, but I was far from confident the two of us would make it out alive as well. That kind of thought probably didn't occur to her though; fighting was the only option running through her head; she probably held off until now only because of me. So I flung my arm over to stop Rosette.

 

     “This is absurd! You don't have a shred of proof!" I at last turned my eyes toward Talmong. "I've done nothing wrong.”

 

I put the emphasis on myself. Clearly Rosette was guilty so far as this man was concerned, but there was no way I was going to run away or turn her in. I had given my word that I wouldn't. This world was clearly more messed up than I would have imagined; and as crazy as it sounded, I felt much safer with her. My gesture was to hold her back, plead decency and avoid a blood bath. I had hoped it would cause the parties to yield. I didn't think through quite all the way. My hand ran into something before my elbow had fully extended. Something soft and, by now, rather familiar. My palm clasped around something very warm. I didn't bother to look. I didn't have to; I was still staring Zerin straight in the face; I stared at him after having wiped my face of any expression. Once again I had changed the mood with a single swift action. It was rather impressive talent I discovered I had. Although I wouldn't say it was a welcome time to find out.

 

Yet the old man's face was now resigned. My heart skipped a beat and chilled. His face was stricken with sorrow after having been roused to indignation. It said everything it needed to without a word: I did my best, sorry.

 

     I let out a sigh and quietly muttered a ritualistic penance for my blunder under my breath, “Ah, fuck me.”

 

     Zerin's expression exploded in a fury, “You dare make a mockery of the covenant before my eyes? Your callous disregard for the order that keeps the realms of men safe-” Now Zerin was almost tripping over his own words, although that didn't stop him from his formal speech. “You desire proof? Do the people desire proof? Then here, let your soul sear!”

 

From his cloak Zerin pulled a small glass bottle, adorned with an exotic glassware stopper corked on top. Inside sloshed a liquid that was set loose with the stopper pulled furiously loose. I had no idea what was happening, but my reflexes brought my arms in front to shield me as Zerin flung his arm wildly to splash whatever contents inside that bottle toward me. I heard a short cry of despair beside me, the clatter of a weapon being drawn and, with it, many more unsheathed their own who were surrounding us. A clawed hand reached out toward me, but it wasn't fast enough. I was drenched in some liquid; it felt oily, viscous but had no smell at all. I felt a crush of force closing in on the two of us.

 

     I threw my arm back and connected with Rosette's shoulder; I pushed her back and cried out, “No!”

 

Events once again came to a standstill. I don't know why one word that I could mutter could have such an effect, but as I wiped the clear oily liquid from my eyes I looked at Zerin once again. His own face was filled with bewilderment. As I looked around, I saw many other faces shared his same confusion. From the windows up high and down below, the people who had hid behind started opening them one by one to see what had just occurred. My eyes last fell on Rosette; even she wore a face of disbelief.

 

     “What the hell was that for? What the fuck is this stuff? What the fuck is wrong with you?” All the tension breaking so suddenly caused me to throw a tantrum in tandem with my mental breakdown. So far as I knew, someone had thrown a vial of acid into my face and I'd soon either be dead or disfigured. I would have preferred the sword through the stomach. It would be a faster demise. I didn't allow myself to feel embarrassed over it. I've had a rather stressful couple of days.

 

     “There's no way. How could you still be-?”

 

     “Do you decide to just attack anyone when you feel like it? You've made a career out of doing this?”

 

I wasn't speaking to Zerin in particular; I was protesting, but the exchange seemed to have been noticed by the audience that was watching. Some had gotten into my mouth, and I spat it out onto the street as I tried to wipe it from my eyes. It had no smell, but it tasted like pureed grass. Don't ask me how I know. I felt insulted. All that build up, I expected some dagger pushed into my heart, or an arrow planted in my chest. It wasn't even acid; I felt as though I had been duped. No sensation of burning or even mild skin irritation. I had prepared to at least meet my own execution in the coolest way I could. It was all rather insulting.

 

     "Zerin... You fool," Talmung growled.

 

     From a window on a second story a woman shouted, “What about my son! Was he guilty?”

 

     Another followed her own, a gruff man's voice, “My brother hung last week because of you! Was he guilty?”

 

A slow tide of townspeople began to show their faces behind the cover they had previously hid behind. They were talking amongst themselves loudly enough to be heard now. The more they talked, the angrier they got. That one female knight trotted forward on her horse and leaned down to speak into the ear of Zerin who was still reeling. With a few choice words from her, he looked around to finally noticed his surroundings. The people had begun to emerge as a mob of angry citizens. The kind of angry mob that wants answers but is more likely to break out in violence before getting around to asking questions or waiting around long enough to get an answer they want to hear.

 

     "As I said before," Talmung decreed, pointing a finger at the inquisitor, "Have you not done enough already? Must you continue to not only molest my flock, but harass innocent travelers?

 

Clenching his teeth, he called for his horse, which was brought by a young squire. The reigns were rudely seized from him, and Zerin mounted. With his retinue following behind, they rode off in a column around Rosette and me and made their way toward the gate behind us.

 

I stood there confused with Rosette. Almost as soon as Zerin had arrived, he had suddenly left. If I wasn't still dripping wet from the oil he had splashed all over me I might have been able to write off what happened as a fevered dream. I was ready to collect myself and move on when the new crowd had gathered around us. A crowd of townsfolk, young and old, man, woman and child. They watched Rosette with worry, but their eyes were mostly fixated on me. There was an apprehension hanging in the air that was so thick I felt like I could choke on it. They looked stuck halfway between being terrified and thankful. As though they wanted to raise me on their shoulders for chasing away the boogeyman but held back for fear our their own safety. After all, I was covered in something that was supposedly flammable as far as they knew.

 

Talmung now stood before me, rather than the bloodthirsty inquisitor and his posse. He produced a handkerchief and offered it to. I gladly took it to wipe the viscous slime off my face.

 

     He announced in a raspy voice for those present to hear, “By the Almighty, his fires of castigation, have spared this soul,” The crowd erupted into a flurry of activity as they gossiped among themselves. “Pray tell good sir. How is one could be guilty of laying with the spawn of hell and not be touched? What of the fire of divine retribution?”

 

     I wasn't sure what the old man was going on about, and I had to ask, “Divine retribution?”

 

     “Holy water burns away impurity of the soul." Talmung replied. "For those souls tainted by committing the gravest of sins the soul burns away along with it. All children of the almighty, baptized in his glory pay such a price!”

 

I could only shrug. The crowd erupted all at once and became ablaze with conversation. Dozens of people all at once trying to understand something they had seen. Something that seemed incomprehensible to them. They seemed to have all but forgotten the two of us still standing dumbfounded in the middle of them all. The old man, a priest of some sort, was being pulled back despite his protests by some new group of armed men. In the distance at the other end of the crowd some people had started trying to break through.

 

     A sharp tap on the shoulder reminded me that Rosette was only just beside me. Before the new welcoming party arrived she could not help but ask, “You weren't... baptized?” The inflection in her voice told me she wasn't sure exactly what that was.

 

     “Well. I was baptized by a Methodist, if I'm remembering right, not whatever they're talking about.”

 

     “A what?”

 

     "Nothing, forget I said anything," I babbled, forgetting myself for a moment.

 

Rosette looked at with the most puzzled face I had seen on her yet. I knew that didn't answer her question, but there wasn't any time to explain myself or listen to me try and rationalize what just happened when a new group of armed men broke through the crowd. They were a motley crew, definitely much poorer and less armed and armored. They were probably the town guard that had been in hiding until now. I couldn't blame them, but they certainly arrived fast, probably to save face as the law of this town. A ragtag group of nine men split, six pushed the crowd back while one guarded on his two flanks approached with a hand on his hilt.

 

     “Deputy Marlow, Brun Militia.” His introduction was very curt.

 

He was a very round man. A round head and a sizable gut. His features were very soft and babyish, but his eyes were not the least bit inviting. Something he might have had to train himself, or the product of some very harsh life lessons for someone who'd usually look the pushover type.

 

     I was still a little confused and looked around before responding myself, “Laven.” An awkward silence hung over us. “And this is-”

 

     “I know of the Thorn Knight.” He interrupted rather rudely and said nothing more.

 

     “You're not going to get promoted unless you work on your people skills.” I waited for a response, but instead he only furrowed his eyebrows. “Look, if you're done here, I'm soaked, tired, I need a bath, a change of clothes and an actual bed. If you could get out of the-”

 

     “Mister Laven, you're to wait here and not move. I am under the authority to put you under-”

 

     Rosette nearly exploded beside me, “He will not be arrested.” The usually carefree, happy and energetic Rosette growled in the most surly way and stared down the deputy.

 

Everything came to a screeching halt. The crowd grew silent. The armed men holding them at bay froze in place, and the three men before us became petrified. Even I was taken aback. Although I wasn't the target of that hostility which seemed to radiate blood lust, I watched as the amusing looking deputy—who tried his best to appear professional and dependable—broke out in a cold sweat and wasn't able to speak another word. Maybe he was neurotic and sweats a lot, or perhaps it was Rosette whose tail had grown into an inferno and radiated what was probably a punishing heat. I suppose, if I wanted to the two of us could probably just walk away at this point. I doubt anyone here would try to stop us. Although I did feel sorry for Marlow. He just thought he'd do his job. It was probably for the best that he kept his mouth shut though. I had the impression, from the short time I've known Rosette, that she was itching to let loose. Fighting was always at the forefront of her mind; and after holding her back, she might just let loose for the most tangentially related reason or most pathetic of excuses.

 

     “That's quite enough Marlow.” A gruff voice pushed its way through the crowd

 

That voice belonged to a man who for once looked like a proper man of law enforcement. If by proper you accepted a stereotypical character from a 1970's police drama complete with the typical mustache, at least he otherwise looked built and suited for the job. A very well presented man: groomed, well dressed, armored.

 

     “You'll have to forgive my Deputy here. The last few weeks have been very stressful for Brun. Mister?”

 

     “Laven, Sir.” Marlow answered immediately on my behalf.

 

     “Mister Laven.” he repeated. “I am Charles Ceerly. Sheriff of Brun.”

 

Charles removed his glove and held out his hand. The sudden appearance of someone else with manners caught me almost completely off guard, so I didn't immediately reach out in return. It was a very stern but earnest force in his hand.

 

     "Friar Talmung," the sheriff noticed the old man at last. "I take it the matters of the Church have concluded here?"

 

     "With luck, that jackal will flee town and not return anytime soon, if ever," the old man replied with a sigh.

 

     "Between the three of us, he long overstayed his welcome," Charles said, almost too quiet to be heard.

 

I noticed that he did not offer the same pleasantries to Rosette. Everyone wanted to pretend that she didn't exist. It's as though her very existence was an anathema. Now that I once again had the time to collect my thoughts, Zerin did say something about heresy and consorting with monsters. Are the people so terrified of not only the monsters themselves but having the finger pointed at them by the Church? That one priest they dragged away, the one rambling, seemed ready to begin proselytizing and performing an on-the-spot exorcism and seemed alarmed I had not been suddenly struck down by a bolt of lightning. If I was being sentenced to death for having sex with a monster, well I was certainly guilty of that, not by choice, but I was guilty all the same.

 

     “If you would please come with us Mister Laven. We'd like you to answer some questions for us.”

 

     Marlow in a panic scrambled to stop his superior officer,“Ceerly, Sir. That's-”

 

     "I will hold mass at the Church and handle the people," the friar said. "You keep the peace... And as for you, boy, thank our Lord for your good fortune."

 

With that, the old man pushed back out through the crowd. A good deal of the crowd followed him, no doubt hungry for answers. Only a few remained for long, but when it became apparent that I wasn't about to be arrested or run through, they feared missing out on what the old man had to say rather than keep gawking at me an the monster beside me.

 

I could feel Rosette burning beside me. I could hear the cracking of her knuckles as she clenched her claws, her serrated teeth grinding against each other and her tail whipping back and forth quickly burning higher and higher. The spectacle definitely got the attention of everyone present as they all started gasping in surprise and pushing backwards; the crowd seemed ready to stampede at a moment's notice.

 

     I hissed through my teeth to whisper to her, “Rosette. Calm down.” She didn't react at all. She was still poised for combat. “Rosette. Knock it off.” Still no change. I placed my hand gently on her shoulder , “Rose.”

 

The moment of contact caused her whole body to shiver, and the second I called out her name the third time she relaxed. She was still burning, and my hand felt like I had placed it directly on an electric heater. The crowd reacted in gasps as though they had witnessed the most scandalous thing ever. Even Marlow and Ceerly shifted uncomfortably. I thought they all needed a reality check; I was helping them by preventing this all in one walking meat processor and portable BBQ from giving a demonstration of her abilities.

 

     I turned back to Ceerly, “If you want me off the streets so you can all get back to normal then fine. If you want questions answered though, I got a ton of my own.”

 

     Ceerly responded diligently, “Fine by me.”