As soon as I reached the curb, I spotted Celeste standing on it, opposite her property. An old black Cadillac was parked there, and the owner was leaning against the side smoking a cigarette and talking to her.

"Oh, Torsten!" Celeste caught sight of my arrival and motioned me closer. "Come here, I'd like you to meet someone. This is a friend of mine who is, a, uh, government official, working with the Order."

"You can call me Agent Crawley." He was wearing a black trenchcoat, average height, slightly pudgy, and forgettable in appearance except for rather fine cheekbones, and a rough voice. "You're Terry's grandson?"

"Uh, yeah. Hey... wait! You knew him?"

"We both did." Celeste gave a look, full of nostalgia. "Friends for years."

Crawley nodded. "Respectable man, yer grandfather. We all worked for the Order, or used to, at least." He took a drag. "Got yer mother's looks, I'd say. Good thing too."

She laughed. "Definitely has. For the best, no doubt."

Um, what? Yeah, okay.

"Sure, whatever," I mumbled, "but I need to tell you some things, after ... all I've heard."

She looked at me, querying, and so did he.

"I think ... there are, um, two. Yeah. There are two of ... them, hidden at my school. Or there were, I don't know."

"Two?" Crawley frowned, his attention settling on me a little more forcefully. "Ya sure? It's easy to be mistaken, or ta think they're somethin' else."

"I'm sure," I assured him. "One is a student, who has been trying to befriend me, and another one is the new guidance counsellor."

"Mmm," grunted Crawley. A look passed between him and Celeste.

"We'll need to look into that." She concluded the thought quickly and without fuss, then pivoted directly to a new subject. "I suppose you don't have any idea how that injury came about, do you?"

It was Crawley who answered. "Course he don't." The man blew a cloud of tobacco smoke. "Yer boy was shot by a couple redneck hunters. You know what he did to them? Cooked them alive. Ain't nothin' left but charcoal and ash."

It was hunters that did it?

"We don't exactly like this scenario, as you can imagine," Celeste shook her head, "but this is a fact that I didn't bring up in front of Natalia. I don't want to scare her. Always stay wary, Torsten, even when you think everything is fine. They will kill without a second thought if they feel threatened. They can manipulate minds and feelings, sometimes without the victim even knowing."

"Just how old is yer charge, anyhow?" Crawley interjected.

"A little over a month. Why?"

"Just a month?" He gave a low whistle. "That's damn impressive."

"Record-breaker in the making." She nodded to Crawley. "This could be a real blessing in disguise, don't you think?"

"Hold up, what are you talking about?"

"Maturity. They grow rapidly in the youngest phase of life. We have learned that the quicker they pass through this initial phase, the larger they will end up as an adult. Your hatchling matured to adolescence faster than any we have on record and is on track to end up as a very big boy when he's full grown."

"Uh, just how big do you mean?"

"Kid," muttered Crawley, "ya really don't want ta know. Seeing a damn python large enough to squash city hall is an experience not worth having."

"I don't want to be rude, but we need to talk business in private." Celeste nodded to her companion. "You'll have to excuse us, Torsten. We're about to head in."

"I should too," I told her. "I said I'd just be a minute and I've let you know about the things going on at school."

"If you need advice, or help, I'm right next door."

"Thanks." I waved to them, making my way back through the gate and to the front door. Both Lucy and my mother were still sitting in the kitchen talking when I got inside. Lucy loved her as much as she did her own, and was very respectful; one of the few adults that seemed to qualify for any sort of reverence from her. She tried to get my attention as I passed through, but I had an urge to check on the guest, so I didn't linger and went straight to the spare bedroom.

He was sleeping still, the same as earlier.

I sat on the side of the bed, carefully, and looked him over.

The wound was fairly clean from when I had sterilised it earlier, and he seemed to at least be properly resting, despite the pain. I took the opportunity to examine him, just to get a good look at how he appeared as one of us.

Flowing red hair, pale skin. His features were the same style of 'pleasing to the eye' as Theo, symmetrical and finely proportioned, except somehow both softer and harder at once. Softer, being that the physical signs of masculinity were less pronounced; I had considered Theo to be 'handsome' whereas this one was better described as 'beautiful'. Harder, because there was an unflinching attitude to him that I could feel even when he was lying unconscious.

But ... this isn't a boy, remember? This is something else that looks like us, and can act like us, but it’s NOT human. I pinched the bridge of my nose, eyes shut, sighing in exasperation. How can any of this be real? Gods? Magic? Dragons?

Every day was a bit more weird than the one before.

I opened my eyes, about to stand and head back to the kitchen, but ... his eyes were open too.

I froze.

He's awake.

They were just as human in appearance as the rest of him, except the irises were red. The same as his hair; that rich, lively colour. We both stayed still, staring at one another, then he pulled his good right arm from underneath the covers. Sitting up, sheets scrunching as his torso came upright, the hair cascading like silk over his bare shoulders, he reached out. With absolutely no regard for my personal space, the hand lightly grasped the left side of my head.

The sensation was invasive and unpleasant. An electrical buzzing filled my skull and I could feel something touching my mind; an intrusion taking knowledge, leaching it out of my brain like a tick sucking blood. It was mildly hurtful and I couldn't move to stop him, but after about ten seconds, it faded, and he let go of me, though he did not lie back down in the bed.

"Your language." His voice was low, calm, a refined version of my own. "English. It is so ... clumsy."

Oh my god.

"You are Torsten," he murmured it, soft but clear, "and I am Araziah."