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in Brandon's mind. "There lies the Phoenix. All it needs is for the Reclaimer to show up and lay claim to it."
          Brandon asked a question that was weighing heavily upon him. "Am I supposed to be the Reclaimer?" He wasn't sure how he felt about the possibility that he might be some sort of prophesied savior. It was an alternating feeling of debilitating terror and excitement, hollowing out his stomach and giving him a twisted sense of internal vertigo.
          Rok was silent for so long that Brandon started to think that the god wasn't going to answer, but his voice came, soft and as close to regretful as the boy had ever heard it. "It definitely seems like it may be your destiny, Bran. I'm truly sorry."
          "What happens to this Reclaimer at the end of this all knowing prophecy? Does he get a happy ending?" He is unable to look away from the Phoenix, its gleaming length seeming to call to him and repel him at the same time.
          "The Reclaimer performs many feats and overcomes terrible obstacles. He saves countless lives and protects the worlds from darkness beyond time and space."
          "That doesn't really answer my question, Rok?"
          "Prophecy only has what power you give it, Bran. If you decide to walk its path, you will find that it is a harsh mistress. It requires sacrifice, much as the gods do."
          Brandon spoke in a low calm voice as he asked. "How does the Reclaimer die?"
          "Badly. And painfully." Rok's voice is as hard and implacable as the mountains. "But his death will save the world of the living." He added. "Every good thing comes with a price."
     
          Faux was sitting on the bed, shirt unbuttoned and watching TV, when there was a knock at the door. Getting up, he walked barefoot to the door and opened it wide. He was only half surprised to find Teague. The acting chief was in street clothes, a ball cap pulled down low over his eyes. He took in Faux's bare feet and said. "I'm taking Baker and his crew to the Lumberjack to get a bite to eat. If you're interested you can ride down in my rig?"
          "The Lumberjack?"
          "It's a little diner on Main Street, mostly burgers and fries. They have one of the best rib-eyes in the state." Behind Teague, Faux can see Baker wrangling his team into their vehicles.
          "I could eat." Faux said, leaving the door open as he put his shoes on and grabbed his jacket. Locking the room up, he followed Teague to his idling squad car. It was a short hop down the road to Main Street, with a little idle chit chat, before they were climbing out of the car and following the others into the warmly lit diner.
          It was a comfortable looking place. Not crowded. A long wood and chrome counter, with red vinyl bar stools and booths flanking the entrance on both sides. Baker's team took one of the booths, while Baker and Faux took a booth with Teague. Once everybody had hot food in front of them and were nice and comfortable, the men started talking. 
          Teague was watching the other people in the diner when he said. "I'm not sure what we can do tomorrow that we didn't do earlier today." His tone was a mix of tired and something else, something that sounded unnatural coming from the chief, even knowing him a short time. It took Faux a moment to realize the other man sounded unsure of himself.
          "Maybe if we can call in more men?" Faux said, taking a drink of his iced tea. The food was really quite good, as was the atmosphere in the diner. There were Norman Rockwell prints on the finished oak walls, as well as framed newspapers from the town's past. There was a sound system, playing a mix of Blues and Classic Country songs. A Muddy Waters song was playing, giving the place a distinctively southern feel.
          Baker and Teague shared a look, before Baker shook his head. His tone is thoughtful. "It's going to be hard to get more men, not without bringing in the media and