Never wake a Dragon (on hold)

3. part II - a visitor

The display on the treadmill blinked with 50.1 km. He'd been at it for a while, staring blankly into space while his legs kept pumping. Others had probably noticed that he didn't jog like a normal person. He ran, briskly, and too far by any usual human standards. But then, he wasn't human, and sometimes he wondered if that was a blessing or a curse. Human life cycles were short enough to allow change. There was this natural progression in human societies that they completely lacked amongst the paranormals. The Council of Guardians had ruled since the last ten dragons fell into submission. They were a stationary presence, a rule that had survived over 650 years.

They needed change, but he wasn't sure the paranormals were ready to get on board. There was no second alternative, no steady opposition who could step in. None of them had ever lived in a true democracy even though the council liked to call themselves democratic. No, the dragon rule had simply been replaced by another set of dictators.

Glancing left, he noticed a woman gawking as if she couldn't believe what she was seeing. He adjusted the treadmill and slowed the pace. He should have gone to a paranormal gym, but he wasn't sure he could face anyone who knew who he was. Not today. He needed a clear head, meaning no distractions until he'd come up with some kind of answer.

The question was—take the job, or get the hell out of Stockholm?

He got off the treadmill and reached for the bottle of water beside him. It was lukewarm but better than nothing. Eying the woman, he gulped down the rest until a few drops remained. She continued to stare at him when she thought he wasn't looking. Clearly, she suspected something, but it was a long leap to figure out he was a demon and not one of her kind. It was more probable that she conjured a story of an athlete on steroids. Maybe it was best to pick another gym next time. If the new Guardian caught him doing shit like this in public, he might get in actual trouble.

Kyung's amused grin flashed before him. The dragon had dangled a pretty carrot in his face, offering that sweet word that was impossible to forget. Revenge. Yes, he wanted revenge on his parents. He wanted the council to fall to their knees and then stand up for the atrocities that stained his hands instead of theirs. The ultimate blame lay with his parents, but the rest of the council might as well have been involved. He wished it wasn't true, but in reality, the only way to reach his parents was to strike the entire council.

His thoughts paused when he caught sight of someone moving through the room. The woman inched closer in that way Swedes did when they wanted to speak but wasn't sure how to approach someone. If he waited another few minutes, she would open her mouth with some foolish question. Perhaps her life was the better one. Sure, she would die sooner than she wished, weighed down by old age if luck stayed by her side, but she would likely never know true horror. She would never have to face a beast inside herself—she would never drown in memories of death.

Choosing to walk away before she had the chance to speak, he watched her face fall with disappointment. She would never know that she had survived the encounter with a demon, and perhaps that was another blessing.

He saw a few others on the way to the locker room, but none of them paid him any mind. Most stared into space, just like he'd done, probably thinking about their mundane problems that wouldn't even matter in a few days time. No, he would never trade his life for a human's, no matter how messy it became.

* * * *

The snow squeaked beneath his boots, white and blinding in the sunlight. It had fallen throughout the night, but the clouds had rolled by and opened up the sky for another freezing day. People walked along the quay, but not nearly as many as one would encounter during a sunny summer day. Usually, he felt a sense of peace when he was the only paranormal in a crowd, but there was something in the air that distorted the tranquility. The focus he desperately needed kept evading him—as if he was led on a goose chase through his own mind.