Page 83 of Untethering Dark

For all the grievous moral failings of some humans, their species’ grasp on innovation was quite breathtaking. It both amazed and baffled Gudariks how they could be so abysmally oblivious to the natural world and yet so intimately attuned with it. Traditional magic as good as died out amongst the humans, but they discovered a new sort to call their own.

“What’s your strategy with this?” he asked, too entranced to look away.

“We’ll stake out the area, but when the poachers and the rest of the Wiedergänger pop into existence, I’ll fly this baby into the mix and blast them. Any who try to run off will fall over the trip wire, and Johanna and her team will swoop in with zip ties, but the rest is up to you. She can hand them over to the Polizei, which would raise some awkward questions as far as the two-thousand-year-old humans are concerned—dunno if ‘severelyout-of-touch with reality cult members’ suffices as a cover story. Or you can have a spicy snack.”

Gudariks cringed. Last decade, he found out the hard way that bear spray was not a tasty accoutrement when he took a bite out of a camper and punctured the aerosol can hiding in their pocket. It was an embarrassing and traumatic experience however, so he did not share that story with the group.

“The other rangers are okay with murder?” Astrid asked, sounding skeptical.

“I don’t know actually.” Suri called out to their spouse, “Johanna, how do your colleagues feel about murdering their enemies?”

Brushing off her hands, Johanna rose, knees creaking. “No interest in participating, but after the taste of evil they saw with the wolves, they’ll turn a blind eye.”

Gudariks studied the forest ranger for signs of discomfort, disgust, anything that would indicate her true opinions. Could she really stomach the slaughter of others, evil as they were? It was one thing to say it, another to actively encourage it.

But Johanna’s expression was hard, immovable. One look into her eyes, into those two glittering, dark coals, and the thirst for retribution was unmistakable. If the other forest rangers looked equally as fierce, he just might believe they could handle it. “Other than body disposal, what do you need from Astrid and I? It sounds like you have everything else covered.”

“It’s hardly a foolproof plan,” Suri replied, landing the drone. “There’s always the chance we miss folks or the drone malfunctions or our resurrected adversaries are pepper spray resistant. Whatever the case may be, we need you to do what you do best.”

“General murder and mayhem?” Astrid offered with a smirk. She didn’t have claws, but her nails were long and sharp as she tapped them against her folded arms.

“You’re doing us squeamish humans a favor, believe me.” Suri winked. “Besides, I’ve a hunch you’ll enjoy it far more.”

A cold, dark feeling hollowed him out. Under normal circumstances, he’d wholeheartedly agree and thrill in the anticipation of a challenging hunt.

“It’s more complicated than that...” Astrid trailed, glancing in his direction.

Suri furrowed their brow.

“I feel responsible for my old village,” Gudariks explained. “I didn’t take their lives lightly the first time, and while I won’t hesitate to take them a second time, it won’t be the gleeful undertaking you imagine. At least not for me.”

“I’m sorry, Gudariks.” Suri hung their head, toeing a clump of snow. “That was insensitive of me.”

“There’s nothing to forgive. I just wanted to be clear on that point.” For better or worse, at least this time he wouldn’t be alone in the burden. The group seemed to agree that a bit of ruthlessness was necessary in the face of evil, and if that was true now, maybe it was true two thousand years ago.

All the ferocity in Johanna shifted to something soft and understanding, and for the first time, he thought she might see him as more than a monster to fear. “I told the other forest rangers about you,” she said. “They need time to brace themselves, since we’ll be working together on this. They’ve no reason to think I’m lying about you, but you’re not real to them yet, and I think seeing you for the first time will be a shock.”

His existence was never meant to be a secret, but considering the usual circumstances, all who saw him perished. That didn’t lend itself to story-making. But soon there’d be no room for doubt, and once again he’d be working alongside humans to protect them from a greater evil.

It was bittersweet.

Chapter Thirty-Seven

“Are you sure your fellows are okay working with us?” Gudariks accompanied Johanna while she finished stringing her trip wires, leaving Astrid with Suri and the drone.

“What, are you afraid they’ll attack you or something?” Johanna teased, winding wire around a tree trunk. “Can you even be hurt?”

“I’m more concerned about Astrid, and how they’ll react to her.”

The forest ranger sobered. “I’ve been slowly acclimating my colleagues to the idea of her and what she’s capable of—all a part of my long-term succession plan. I don’t have children and no one familial left who’s equally committed to the forest or has an interest in keeping peace between humans and the supernatural. I don’t want the other rangers to fear her, but they can’t be blind to the truth either if they’re to one day take my job.”

“You’re Astrid’s best friend. No one can replace you.”

A heaviness settled over Johanna’s shoulders. She set down the wire. “I’m in my fifties,” she said. “That’s half my life gone, at best. Astrid will outlive me ten times over. I’ve known her since she was a little girl, was there as she grew up, and yet I’ll be but a blip in her history when it’s all said and done. As much as I wish I didn’t have to plan for retirement, someonewillreplace me. Many, in fact, will have to.”

The steepest price of longevity was losing loved ones. That agony never faded, and while one could learn to live with it, or suppress it in memory’s deep caverns, it changed a being. Astrid had seemed excited about the vast possibility immortalitygranted when they last spoke on the subject, but had she considered the casualties of time? In just a few short decades, she’d bury her friends. And who could say how much life was left in Perchta? Or himself? Would she have to bury them, too?

Immortality never felt like the guarantee it was meant to be. Not for him. There were far, far older things than himself in the grand scheme of the universe, things that always were. Gudariks had a beginning. Surely, that meant an end, as well.

---