In his ordinary appearance, there was nothing remarkable about the host. He was an old man, about Serafina’s height. He was thin, with a wrinkly face and barely a tuft of white hair on his head.
It was an excellent deception for a god.
Mr. Tarus moved across state lines, choosing tiny towns and cities alike. He loved the towns because they promised him the coziness of a small, close-knit population. He craved the intertwined lives of the people who lived in them. Whatever happened in a small town did not usually get national coverage. They might pop up on a bit of a corner of a newspaper. Then, they disappeared entirely soon enough.
On the other hand, the cities offered a lot of anonymity. He could set up shop in the middle of a bustling city but still went largely unnoticed. His an
