Page 46 of Catastrophe

They walked down the corridor until the sound of music got louder, and louder still when they pushed open large double doors, into a grand ballroom with long windows and a balcony, where a live orchestral band played. Flowers, cutlery, and wine bottles decorated round tables.

I looked around in awe. I certainly hadn’t visited anywhere like this when I was alive. Every man was dressed in their formal black three-piece suits, and the few women in attendance wore beautiful cocktail dresses with their hair in victory rolls. Is this the 50s?

As though Nisha had pressed fast-forward on the vision, the scene blurred until suddenly, an older man walked onto the stage to the sound of applause from seated guests. Behind him was a white screen and a projector.

He waved a hand to quiet the room and leaned into the microphone. “Hello, esteemed guests, friends, and family. My name is John Richards, and I’m honored to start the speeches tonight. If you don’t know me, allow me to tell you my story. I lost my family to a vampire twenty years ago and then spent years looking for others who had knowledge of these creatures so I could take my revenge. Thankfully, God led me to you. The Hunters’ Guild has saved me in many ways, and today is just one way I hope to give back.”

Hunter? These people are hunters? I gasped and took a step back in horror. My eyes widened as I looked around the room anew. I’d completely underestimated this organization. It’s old.

The applause died down, and John continued, “Tonight is about raising money for and choosing our next project. We’ll talk through each one. You will cast a vote, and then we will have an auction to fund the project. This night is essential to our future as a guild. Each year, we are overwhelmed with the response from hunters across the UK and even from overseas. Let’s not dillydally. On with our first presenter. Mr. Darius Jensen.”

Fafnir stood up from his chair and walked up the stairs. He pulled slides out of his briefcase and set up the projector until his scrawl was presented on the screen for all to see. He then pulled on leather gloves and pulled out another item from the case. A stone?

“Thank you for the introduction. I have been so warmly welcomed into this community tonight, and it makes my heart warm. My name is Darius Jensen, and I am from Sweden, so you’ll have to excuse my accent. I come from a very long line of hunters and hope, with this discovery and with the funding for this project, that I can make my ancestors proud.

After the death of my father, I was clearing the house and came across a rune stone, which I will make freely available to you all tonight. I think it’s vitally important for all hunters to see this, regardless of whether you decide to fund the project. On this stone, the author writes about the day his family captured a faei with the gift of sight. It is written in Old Norse, which I specialize in, but I have a translation of the text for you all to read.”

He changed the slide to the translation and continued,

“The faei told them of a dragon called Fafnir, a dragon who would rise from the dead along with the witch who killed him. How, once this dragon rises, he will attack, kill, and drain the magic from the supernatural creatures living amongst us, but only if the hunters do not kill it first.”

Himself. He was telling the hunters about himself and attempting to secure his safety from them in the future. It was … genius. But why was he doing it?

Fafnir continued, “The faei laughed about how the hunters would destroy the only creature who could help them in their quest to cleanse the earth from these evil beings. But the author believed that, armed with this knowledge that the dragon could be spared and, if left alone, it would fulfill the purpose of our guild with minimal help from us.”

The silence in the room was deafening. Everyone, it seemed, needed a moment to wrap their minds around this news. I did too, because I stood gaping in horror up at Fafnir.

These people were hunters, yet they’d unknowingly welcomed a dragon into their midst.

What is he planning? Why does he want the hunters' help? Why is the present the best time to kill all the supernaturals, if that’s what he wants? Why can’t he do it now while he’s still alive?

I rubbed my head, wishing I had a notepad and pen to write all this down.

An angry voice from the second table called out, “How could we allow a dragon to live? We are hunters. No matter the positive actions or the potential for positive actions in this case, the fact remains that we do not allow these creatures to exist.”

Many others made noises of agreement and tapped their tables, but others remained interested and open-minded. As open-minded as one could be when discussing the genocide of supernatural races on Earth.

“If this dragon is to be reborn, should we not be trying to stop this unnatural practice?” a woman asked. “How does that happen? Can we stop it?”

“Hear! Hear!” a gentleman with a mustache cheered. He quickly paled when Fafnir turned his death stare on him.

John Richards stood from his seat at the first table and shouted, with a warble in his voice, “Please, quiet! Let the man continue with his presentation. This is not how we do this. Ask your questions at the end.”

Fafnir’s voice sounded over the microphone again. “I understand this is controversial, so I’ll hurry through the rest of my presentation so we can debate. If I were not confident this is essential to our cause, I would not be here.”

He took a sip of his water and then lifted the stone and continued, “I had the stone tested by scientists in Sweden and also here in London. It’s from the late Viking age, as I thought. The stone is from a quarry in Södermanland, where there is another carving from this time and coincidently, talks of a hero called Sigurd, who killed a dragon.”

Fafnir changed the slide in the presentation to show the image of the stone as murmurs began in the crowd.

“I have kept this discovery from becoming a museum piece. It is of great historical and cultural value, but our cause comes first. The thought of a faei laughing at us, even one from thousands of years ago, because it believes we are too stupid to work with the advantages we are given, has haunted my dreams. I hope that, with the funding from this benefit, we can develop a plan and weapons to control the dragon. Thank you for listening. If you have questions, I’ll be happy to answer them.”

From the back, a man with a comb-over shouted, “How can we guarantee it will only hunt supernaturals and not humans?”

Fafnir replied calmly, “It isn’t interested in meat. Only magic. Unless there are supernaturals among you, you have nothing to fear.”

Which was hilarious, coming from him. In fact, the whole thing was preposterous.

Comb-over responded quickly, “And how is it you know that? Through another stone? Is there no other evidence to back up this claim? Are we to sit and wait until it kills a human for us to act?”

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