Book of Watchers

by Mary Ting

  Not an ounce of embarrassment escaped from Jonah as he spoke. Ever cool and collected, he patted the sofa next to him.

  Mayra swayed her hips, her long skinny legs exposed, and I caught a glimpse of red bikini underwear. I turned away. Not cool to stare at my buddy’s girl.

  “So Enoch. I heard you almost died.”

  Mayra spread one leg over to me, her tone nonchalant and a bit too playful for my comfort.

  I stood, grabbed the TV remote, and sat on the single chair. “Jonah likes to exaggerate. I’m fine. Just a little accident. Nothing to fuss about.”

  I kept my eyes on the flat screen. Something about Mayra’s questioning had me all worked up, or maybe her being half naked had thrown me for a loop. Whatever the reason, my pulse sped up—the kind that awakened goose bumps. A warning.

  I had known her for a few months, so why this odd feeling now? The accident had me on edge. A bit jumpy and alert.

  “Well, that’s good to hear.” Mayra walked to the bookcase and shuffled a few angel statues in different spots.

  My mom had given them to me when she’d traveled around the world. I wished Mayra would stop fussing with them. Every time she came over, her hands were all over them. Obsessive or what? I didn’t blame her. Made from fine crystal, they sparkled, and their wings were magnificent.

  “These are so pretty. I love looking at them. Do you know which ones came from which country?”

  “No.” I didn’t mean to sound harsh. “I mean, some are old and I forgot where she got them. She travels all over the world. I can’t keep up.”

  “I see.” She paused. “Enoch. This one has a crack on its wing.”

  I growled inwardly. It’s because you keep touching it, idiot.

  “Don’t worry about it.” I kept my gaze rooted to the sports channel to keep my annoyance at bay. “I can crazy glue it or something.”

  Why the hell did she care? I usually didn’t mind having Mayra around, but she was irritating the hell out of me today. It must be from my accident. I wanted to like Mayra for Jonah’s sake, but lately she’d been pushing my buttons. Petty of me to get upset over trivial things, but those were gifts from my mother.

  Mayra leaned against the bookcase and crossed her arms, eying me. “Are you going to class tomorrow?”

  I hiked an eyebrow. Again, why did she care? “I usually don’t. It’s the beginning of second quarter. I don’t show up until mid-term. The joy of being a senior.”

  “I agree with you there. Good idea, though. Maybe you should stay home and rest.” Then she pulled out a book and flipped through the pages. “Do you have more books?”

  “What you see there is what you get. I don’t read.” I sighed from exhaustion.

  Before I said something I would regret, I turned off the TV and headed to my bedroom.

  “I’m going to bed.” I turned the knob and opened the door. Offering them a slight grin, I was just about to close the door when a light caught Mayra’s eyes.

  I did a double take.

  “Sweet dreams.” Her mouth formed the words, but her voice—a deep, guttural tone, like demon voices I heard in my dreams, resonated in the room. And her gray eyes glowed like fire—like the demon that had chased me last night.

  I froze, unable to peel my eyes off her. No. No. No. I shook my head. Stop hallucinating.

  “Enoch, you okay?” Jonah sat up from his lazy position on the sofa, concern filling his eyes.

  “Yeah. I’m good.” I gave a fake smile and shut the door.

  Chapter 6

  St. Thomas

  Enoch

  “Enoch.” The monstrous voice growled.

  My eyes shot open, and I stood alone in the middle of a forest. Icy chills blasted down my body, and only the full moon provided a sliver of light.

  I knew I was dreaming because it always began this way. Regardless, my heart pounded and my muscles locked. Then thunderous roars and booming footsteps caused me to shake loose, and I had no trouble running anymore.

  “Enoch. We’re coming for you.” Voices—male and female—blended into one.

  I stopped running after a quarter of a mile and pressed my back against a giant tree. My breath seeped out of my mouth like white ghosts.

  “Who’s there? What do you want?”

  “You know what we want. We want to be let out.” Their words seemed to slither around my head like physical beings.

  I shivered. The temperature had dropped drastically, and the branches turned to ice. No, not just the branches, the ground too.

  “I don’t understand. You want out from where?” I turned in a circle, trying to pinpoint where the demons lurked. But there were no signs of them, only their voices in my head.

  The dream usually ended with me running until I ran out of breath and collapsed. But today, I decided to take action.

  The hell with demons messing with my mind.

  They didn’t exist except in my nightmares. My stress, my insecurities, my parents fighting, my life with no goals—these were my demons. I had no idea what would happen if I fought back, but I was sick of it all. I balled my fists and clenched my jaw, determined to be brave.

  “No. I don’t care what you want. You’re never coming out. You stay in the fires of hell and away from me. Did you hear me, demons? Stay. The. Hell. Away. From Me. You have no power over me!”

  Something in my conviction, in my last words, made it happen. From my chest, a dim glow appeared and ignited like a bomb. Pure white light blasted, covering the entire forest, blinding me. Then...

  I flashed my eyes open and slammed my hands on the dashboard.

  “Enoch. Enoch.”

  My mother’s concerned voice brought me back to reality, but where was I? In the car. Passenger seat. Belted. I turned to her, my eyebrows pinching at the center.

  “Mom.”

  “You fell asleep. Were you dreaming?” Color stained Mom’s face as her eyes returned to the road. “Were you...um dreaming about a girl? Touching a girl? You were making a lot of...You were moaning.”

  “Mom?” I ran a hand down my face, heat burning my cheeks. “No. I was dreaming about...running.” Stupid answer, but I didn’t want to tell her I dreamed about demons. “You know, like trying to win a race. I don’t know. I don’t remember. Can we talk about something else?” I glanced out the window.

  Mom signaled left and switched lanes. “Your father is coming home today. Can you come over for dinner? He asked about you. He wants to see you.”

  Bullshit. No, he doesn’t.

  Mom should know better than to lie to me. Perhaps she was lying to herself. Dad rarely asked about me. I knew this because he never called me on the phone. Not even on my freakin’ birthday.

  “Please, Enoch. I need you.”

  The desperate plea in Mom’s voice caused my heart to soften.

  “Does Dad know about the accident?”

  “No. I didn’t tell him.”

  I would regret this, but... “Okay. But if he starts anything, I’m outta there.”

  “Okay. I promise. It’ll be a pleasant dinner.”

  I doubt that.

  Mom sounded happy, and I was glad to be the reason. At least one of us was smiling.

  She placed a hand on my shoulder and glanced at me. “Thank you for trying, and thank you for agreeing to go to church with me. Father Sam has been asking about you.”

  I’d met Father Sam once in passing when I’d had to drop off something for Mom at church, and yes, he had been kind to me, but then again, he was nice to everyone.

  Father Andrew had had a heart attack and Father Sam had taken his place recently, so I didn’t feel particularly comfortable enough to do confession with him. And I had a lot to confess. But perhaps I should since he didn’t know me well and wouldn’t be able to recognize my voice.

  I hated confession, though. Always had.

  I felt silly telling a priest about my unclean thoughts about a girl I wanted to date. Occasionally, I’d told Father Andrew about my est
ranged relationship with my father, and how I wished my parents would get a divorce so I could have a new dad. I’d hated myself afterward.

  Father Andrew would tell me to say the Our Father three times and Hail Mary five times. I had no idea what good that was supposed to do since I had never carried out my punishment. He should have whipped me or made me scrub the church floor on my hands and knees instead.

  “Here we are,” she said.

  Mom parked the car, and at once, I wished I hadn’t come.

  As soon as I got out, a slew of Mom’s friends greeted me with compliments.

  “Oh, my, how handsome he’s become.”

  “He looks just like his father.”

  “It’s been ages since we saw Enoch.”

  “I should set him up with my daughter.”

  “Father Sam.” Mom waved.

  Crap. I turned away and faced a group of girls ogling me. Not a bad view. Not at all. Church was going to be so much fun. A girl with short, dark hair stood out from the others and smiled at me. I smiled back and spun when Mom yanked me to face her.

  “Say hello to Father Sam. Father Sam, you remember my son, Enoch?”

  Father Sam slowly twisted his lips until his smile reached his eyes. “Yes. We met briefly. If you have time after the mass, we should talk. Your mother has been worried about you.”

  I flashed my eyes to my mother, who feigned innocence. Oh, she was going to hear an earful later.

  “Anyway, I’m glad you’re here. I need to head to the confession.” Father leaned closer. “There’s a short line today. You too should confess your sins, and then perhaps demons won’t follow you.” He patted my head as if I were a pet and weaved through the crowd.

  I bristled. Demons? Could he tell I dreamed of demons simple by looking at me? What did he know anyway?

  Mom introduced me to more people, most I already knew, but she was too happy to have me with her, so I let her do and say as she pleased. I smiled and did my duty as a good son. While she busied herself in a conversation, I slipped away and went inside the breathtaking structure.

  The sunlight peeked through the stained-glass windows, reflecting multiple colors across the dark wood pews and onto the beige marble floor. Up ahead, the massive cross hung as if floating in midair, above the alabaster altar. Across the altar laid a red fabric, and on the fabric sat a golden bowl and chalice for the body and blood of Christ.

  Some had already found their seats and begun praying. Others lit candles off to the left. Off to the right was the confession room. The line was shorter than I had anticipated and I found myself getting in line.

  I lowered my head and turned my back to the people entering. Taking out my cell, I scrolled through my texts.

  Mom: Where are you?

  Me: In line for confession.

  Mom: I’m so proud.

  I hiked my eyes to the ceiling, wondering what the hell I was doing. Then before I could change my mind, my turn had come.

  I opened the door and entered. Kneeling, I made the sign of the cross. “Forgive me, Father for I have sinned.”

  “When was your last confession?” Father asked.

  Though I knew he couldn’t see me, hearing a familiar voice through the wall gave me the creeps.

  “It’s been a while. I don’t remember.”

  “That’s all right. I’m glad you’re here. What are your sins?”

  My heart pounded and my breathing quickened. It wasn’t like my sins were horrible. I hadn’t killed anyone or stolen. I cleared my throat, and before I could stop myself, I let the words flow.

  “I...I had unclean thoughts about girls. Well, I had sex with this girl named Dani.” Shit. That was the part I disliked most about confession. I always confessed too much. “I’m mad at my father. He’s never around. I mean...He’s not around for my mother. Sometimes I wished I didn’t have a father.”

  There, I’d said it. It felt freakin’ good, like I had scrubbed away dirt on my skin.

  “What else is bothering you, son?”

  I stiffened.

  “Nothing,” I said quickly. “That’s it.”

  “A few have told me they see demons in their dreams. Does this happen to you?”

  My heart stopped. How had he known?

  He’s only asking a question, idiot. He’s not saying you are. Get a hold of yourself.

  With a calm voice, I said, “I’m good.”

  “If it does happen to you, please don’t be afraid to come see me. I have a group that meets every Friday.”

  “Really? Can I ask you a question?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why did you ask me if I dreamed about demons? I’m going to assume you don’t ask that question to everyone, right?”

  “No, I don’t. I asked you because those who have seen the devils in their dreams have seeing eyes. Humans cannot see what I can see.”

  I shivered at word devil. “What do you see? What are seeing eyes?”

  “You’re special. Your eyes, Enoch, they shine like Heaven’s light and your body too.”

  You’re lying and full of shit, I wanted to say, but he was right about the demons. Oh, God. I scrubbed my hands over my face, taking deep breaths.

  Calm down. He doesn’t really know. Just pretend.

  “You don’t literally mean my eyes glow, right?”

  “Come to my meeting, Enoch. I’ll explain.”

  I thought about darting out, but I didn’t want to be rude. “I’m done,” I said.

  “Very well. Say the Our Father prayer three times.”

  I scoffed. Like that was going to help me.

  Chapter 7

  Childhood Home

  Enoch

  I gripped the chair’s arm, speechless. Father Sam was a whack job. He had to be. My eyes shining like Heaven’s light? No, I don’t think so. Before any more words could be exchanged, I got the hell out of there.

  I sat in the back during mass and half listened to Father Sam preach about Noah’s Ark and the flood. As soon as the mass ended, I told Mom I didn’t feel well and would take an Uber home, but I did promise to come over for dinner.

  When I arrived at my place, I found a note on my bedroom door from Jonah asking me to join him at the nightclub tonight. I would decide later, but first I had to study for my mid-term. Instead I fell asleep.

  I was thankful for the rest, and no demons entered my dream. My nightmares left me so tired, some days I thought I would faint from exhaustion. The nap was a nice reprieve.

  I glanced about my simple room—a queen-sized bed, a desk, a dresser, a couple of photos Mom had set on my nightstand when she came to visit. So quiet.

  No music booming through the thin walls from next door neighbors. No cars passing by. No students shouting. With the peace filling the air, I inhaled a long breath. I felt as though tons of bricks lifted from my shoulders. Until I looked at my cell phone.

  I rushed out of bed and called an Uber. I really needed a car. About thirty minutes later, I entered the Winston estate.

  The crystal beads on the chandelier clattered together when the breeze followed me in. As my feet squeaked on the quiet marble floor, I gazed to my right down the hallway.

  A shuffle behind me.

  I whirled.

  “Jeffrey.” I gave him a high five when he halted by the grand stairs to my left.

  Jeffrey’s eyes widened and he rubbed the back of his gray hair, eyebrows drawn together. “Enoch. I’m so happy to see you. I didn’t know you were coming.”

  “I’m surprised Mom didn’t tell everyone.” I chuckled.

  Jeffrey placed a hand on my shoulder and guided me toward the dining room. “They’re already seated. Dinner is about to start. You should hurry. You know how your father dislikes you being late.”

  “I know and I don’t care.”

  “Hush. You mustn’t say things like that.” Jeffrey opened the double door and winked at me. “It’s good to see you. Have a wonderful dinner.”

  I wasn’t sure if he
was being sarcastic or truly meant what he said. He knew how I disliked being with my father.

  “Roast beef is on the menu, your favorite. No wonder your mother asked the cook to make it tonight. Now go.” He shoved me in and shut the door.

  I cleared my throat. “Mother. Father. Good evening.” I suddenly felt so small, like a child, and the room grew ten times in size.

  “Enoch.” My mother’s smile shone brighter than the candle lights. “I’m so glad you made it. I wasn’t sure you were going to come. Are you feeling better?”

  I took a seat across from Mom.

  My father hadn’t looked at me yet, too busy cutting his beef.

  “Of course he’s feeling better, Rose, or he wouldn’t have come for the free meal.”

  I stiffened. I didn’t like his tone, and I certainly didn’t like what he’d said. Free meal. I didn’t need this crap. I thought about leaving, but Mother’s pleading eyes weakened me.

  One more comment, Father, and I’m leaving.

  Jillian, one of the cooks, entered to give me a plate of food. Jeffrey must have told her I’d come.

  “Thank you,” I said.

  Mother ruffled her blonde hair, which looked white in the candlelight near her, a nervous habit of hers, I realized. Regardless, she looked pretty with light makeup. She had changed her simple two-piece church attire to something more elegant. No doubt she wanted to look attractive for my father, who barely glanced at her.

  Father scooped up mashed potatoes and finally met my eyes. “So. What have you been up to? Have you decided what you’re going to do after college? You can’t do much with a psychology degree.”

  I sliced through the roast beef and put a bite in my mouth. “I’m thinking of getting my master’s degree and maybe keep going to become a professor.”

  Father gulped his wine. “Maybe?” He scoffed.

  Why does he always pick out the negative in everything I say or do? His scrutinizing gaze and tone made me feel so tiny, worthless.

  “Why don’t you get your real estate license and come work for me?”

  Never in a million years. I’d rather die than work for you.

  “Darling. Enoch doesn’t want to—”