"It's okay."
"It's not okay," Brian growled, pacing back and forth in the clearing. "I should have dealt with them all."
"It's a good sign that you felt pity. You're still a good man, Brian. We've just been forced to do terrible things."
"I had them, and I was weak," Brian snapped. Rage was bubbling through his blood in waves of heated frustration. "They revel in the shit. Their damned rituals and those cloaks and charms. They celebrate it," he spat.
"They think they've found something wonderful. They don't know what horrors lie in wait," Jackson said calmly. His even tone finally began to calm Brian down. He sat and accepted the offered lunch in Jackson's hand. "You were able to use the golems well enough?"
He nodded. "They did everything I asked perfectly, even when I told them to leave."
"Good. Now, what I was able to do today while you were resting." Jackson began to draw in midair, a map of the town springing to life like a hologram out of a movie. He drew dark crimson lines across the roads and railways leading from the town. "I've closed off every proper land route from the town. The mountains and hills are too treacherous for any significant number to cross easily. I've also sent word to the nearest towns that the roads and rails are out until further notice, so we won't have any innocents caught in the crossfire."
"You really think this is necessary?" Brian asked nervously. His thoughts were on his daughter, and the few friends he had made in Rallsburg. "Encircling the town?"
"We simply don't know how many have been awakened," Jackson replied. "Until we can clear them, we can't risk anyone escaping. Between this and the information we've leaked, they should be in a perfect state of chaos for us to do what needs to be done."
Brian stared at the dark lines hanging in midair and shivered. He didn't like how his town was starting to feel like a medieval castle under siege, but it had to be done. Whenever doubt crept into his mind, visions of the burned RV flooded his thoughts, or of the greycloaks performing horrible rituals in the woods, or balls of fire thrown from the radio tower in the dead of night. There was too much potential for catastrophe secreted around every corner.
"Brian, someone's out in the woods—besides the mercenary." He looked up. Jackson's eyes were clouded over, a side-effect of his ability to see magical activity outside the town. "It's Seth Merrill again."
Brian hesitated. The greycloaks were one thing, but Seth was just a stupid college kid.
"Do you still have doubts?" Jackson asked.
"I..."
"Talk to your friend next time you meet. Ask him about Seth."