“Maybe that is the solution,” Morgan mused.

Laurence poured water into cups for everyone present and passed the cups around. “Huh?”

He and Emma had been invited to Morgan’s for supper this time, and Morgan owned a table and chairs, so they sat around it rather than on Emma’s floor. Laurence chose not to ask Emma whether she eschewed furniture by choice.

“Destroy one life to save another,” Morgan clarified as she took the mug. “Thank you,” she added. “If Frederick has targeted you as you say, because his goal is to break your lover’s will, then if you were to remove Frederick’s reason to fight it would instead be his will broken.”

Laurence put the jug aside and bit the tip of his tongue a second. “Kill Mikey,” he said. “Because if Mikey’s dead, Quentin’s dad can’t use him as leverage any more.”

Leverage. Laurence scowled at the word. Freddy knew he was being used, but in picking his words with Laurence was he attempting to convey the nature of the problem to him?

Was Freddy - in his own twisted way - asking for help? Or just for Laurence’s understanding?

“It’s an option,” Morgan said.

Laurence sipped from his cup and swished the water around his mouth before he swallowed. “Because Mikey’s not the one doing this,” he decided.

Emma assembled half her plate of food into a sandwich between the warm slices of bread which smelled fresh from the oven, squished it down until he heard the crunch of salad leaves giving way under the pressure, then lifted it in her hands to bite into.

Morgan watched Emma eat with amusement in her eyes. “Then you will kill Frederick?”

Laurence grabbed a tomato off his own plate and bit into it in anger. He’d walked right into Morgan’s trap there, and it was his own damn fault, so he chewed in silence while she turned that amusement on him.

“Fine,” he said after he swallowed. “He’s not the one doing this either.”

Morgan shrugged. “If you kill the father, it will stop,” she agreed. “But now you see how war works, yes?”

Laurence nodded miserably. “I can’t get to the duke without stopping Freddy. But Freddy doesn’t wanna fight me, he doesn’t wanna force Quentin to go home, he’s just doing it to protect Mikey. And himself, but I think mostly Mikey. Quentin’s immune to Freddy’s gifts and the duke is too, so the only way he can work is through us. Mikey and me.”

She nodded in agreement. “This is how men’s wars work,” she said softly. “Two men war with one another, but they cannot fight directly, so more and more innocent people are drawn in. On both sides,” she added. “Your lover is the Warrior. He will pull those around him into his war.” She picked up a walnut and used one of the few pieces of worked metal Laurence had seen on Avalon to crack it open. “You have already been drawn into it purely because you love him. Leverage,” she added as she placed the nut cracker down on the table.

“And if it wasn’t for me, they never would’ve found Quen to begin with.” Laurence propped his elbow on the table and planted his chin on his fist. “They used me right from the start.”

She nodded. “This is not the Hunter’s way.”

“No,” he agreed. “I’d just track my prey and end it.”

“Warriors like to pretend that is the coward’s way,” she chuckled. “But they fear it, because the Hunter’s way circumvents all their pawns and their protections. It ignores their distractions and cuts straight to the heart of the conflict.”

He eyed his plate as he mulled over her words. “You’re suggesting I assassinate the duke.”

“I’m suggesting that is your way,” she countered. “Would you agree?”

Laurence rolled a boiled egg and some leafy greens into a slice of his own bread and squished it down until he could bite into it.

What Morgan described was exactly how everything had played out with Kane Wilson. Quentin held off Mia and Sebastian as long as he could, but the second he was free Laurence dove into the water and killed Kane. He didn’t know that doing so would free every single one of Kane’s victims from his control at the moment of his death, but Laurence knew everyone else involved was innocent, and nothing would stop until Kane was stopped.

Sure, it wasn’t anywhere near as simple as it sounded looking back on it now. Back then Laurence had only ever killed a god, not a human being. Taking a life wasn’t cool or awesome as it was made out to be in movies. It was a job, he had to do it, he didn’t regret it, but it wasn’t easy.

Assuming, of course, he was right that he’d never taken a human life until Kane.

“You’re right,” he sighed. “Some people will always reject everything that might stop them.” He pursed his lips. “Do you know much about gods?”

“Some.”

He nodded a little. “Before I killed him, Jack took a human host. I mean, more than one, really. Once one died he moved on and took another.”

“Ah.” She inclined her head. “I see what you are asking me. It depends on the god.”

“On whether the human survives it?”

“Yes.” She sipped her water. “Some gods will take over a human completely and leave nothing left. Others will simply ride along and nobody is ever aware they were even there. Every option in between is available. It’s all down to the god, and what humanity believes of that god. Usually the less there is of the host, the more physical evidence there is of the god. The body will begin to take on the god’s aspect.”

Laurence nodded slowly. “Both Jack’s hosts had this kinda green-tinted skin and green eyes. But his last host started growing grass for hair, too. Stuff like that.”

“Then you can see that there was barely anything at all remaining of the last host,” Morgan said.

Laurence gently pushed his plate away and stood. He felt a bit uneasy, and needed some space to clear his head. “Do you mind if I go for a walk?”

“Not at all.”

He nodded. “Thank you for the meal, and the hospitality. I’ll be back to help tidy up.”

Laurence bowed before he made his way out of the house, then broke into a run before his thoughts could catch up with him. Time and again his brain had shown a willingness to use his mistakes against him, to torture him with them as though they were evidence that he was some total failure of a human being, instead of a guy who was just as lost and confused as everyone else in the world.

But he had killed an innocent man back in February. Back at his mom’s Valentine’s party, he’d thrust pruning shears into the chest of a stranger, believing that it would kill Jack, and he had no way of knowing yet that it wouldn’t do the job.

There was still a human being in there, and Laurence had killed him, and he he could feel that part of himself which still fed on fear and doubts rearing its head to give him a sucker punch he could do without.

So he ran.

* * *

He ran down to the shore, circumventing the village and running across open heath instead. Thistles prickled his feet, but they were nothing more than brief pinpricks, gone with the next step, and they helped him concentrate on the run.

And not on what he had done.

Once he reached the bank of fog which surrounded Avalon he veered left to continue without leaving the island.

He’d killed a man, and didn’t even know the guy’s name.

Laurence coasted to a halt and allowed himself to fall to his knees. He was at a good distance from everyone now, and his breathlessness and the ache in the soles of his feet gave him tools to try and shut down that self-loathing little voice with.

His breath came hard. He placed his hands on his thighs and stared at the sand.

There was no choice at the party. Jack would have killed Quentin if Laurence hadn’t stopped him, and Laurence didn’t have much control over his gifts back then. He didn’t know who or what he was, and the instinct which guided his hand seemed to come out of nowhere.

But he was the Hunter, and he had taken down his prey.

Laurence screwed his eyes shut and tried to stop his old self-destructive ideations from whispering to him, because what they would say wasn’t gonna help at all. There was no point recriminating himself over his past failures. Those already led to one overdose, and if Freddy got his hands on them…

Laurence’s fingers dug into his thighs, and the sharp pain from his fingernails helped him ground himself.

Quentin didn’t see him as a fuck-up.

He’d made a mistake. But there was no guarantee Jack would ever have left that host if Laurence hadn’t taken action. With Jack’s desperation, and the speed with which he’d consumed Dan from within, the odds were that the man Laurence killed was as good as dead already.

Did he dare look to find out?

He took a breath, then hauled himself to his feet and dusted off his shins.

There was little point, was there? Really? He knew in his gut that Jack wouldn’t ever have freed his host. Jack was too greedy and too desperate to let go of something so valuable as a body.

No. The best Laurence could do was learn from the experience. Accept that he had killed an innocent man and pray that he never did it again. Perhaps one day, when he was free again, he could look back and find out who the guy was, whether he had any family, and see if he could find a way to make their lives a bit easier.

Not that that was exactly what he’d want if someone took Quentin from him like that. Laurence wouldn’t be ready to accept anything in that situation, so how dumb was it to think he could somehow make things right for any family left behind by Jack’s actions?

Laurence sighed and turned back toward the village. At least the run had drained the worst of it out of him, and maybe he could discuss it with Morgan and Emma for some perspective.

He was most of the way there when he felt a quick stabbing sensation in his arm. It itched, and he rubbed at it.

This happened before. When he spent too long here, searching for Carnwennan, Quentin called 911 and the doctors stuck him with a cannula so they could put him on a drip, but that was in his hand, not his arm.

Had Freddy given in and taken his body to hospital? Did they do things differently in England?

Warmth began to flood through him, and his speculation melted into a slow, crawling terror.

Just as he figured out they’d shoved more heroin into his body against his will, the high washed away his worries and blanketed them in soft, comforting calm.

Laurence lay down in the grass and stared up at the white, featureless sky.

There was nothing else he could do.

Nothing else he wanted to do.

He’d just lie here, and everything would be fine.