Watchers of the Fallen (Second Death Book 1)

by Brian Rella

  Frank grinned and quickened his pace. Glancing to his right, he noticed a whitetail deer about thirty yards ahead, barely visible in the blooming foliage of summer. The buck’s ears perked as the boys yipped and yelped through the woods and it took off heading west.

  Frank changed his course, following the buck, and including it in their game. He closed the distance between him and the animal, the ground barely touching the soles of his shoes as he bobbed and weaved through the thicket.

  “Frank!” he heard his brother call from far behind him. It was difficult for his younger brother to keep up with him. David trained hard, but had not been born with the same abilities Frank had. He was learning, but his powers would always lag his older brother, who had been born a Watcher.

  Frank pulled up, slowing down to let his brother catch up to him. He heard David’s footsteps approaching, and hid behind a large tree trunk waiting for his brother to pass.

  When David passed, he sped off behind him silently. David was blind and deaf to Frank’s sneak attack. Frank stuck his foot in David’s gait and sent him sprawling into a patch of mud ahead of them.

  Frank stopped and doubled over laughing, holding his belly.

  “Not funny,” David said, picking himself up, mud falling off his clothing and face.

  A playfully sinister expression crossed David’s face and he lunged at Frank, tackling him to the ground. The brothers wrestled in the mud until they were covered from head to toe in the muck.

  Frank pushed David away with his foot and David rolled backward and up onto his feet. A huge clump of mud hung from his cheek, and the image made Frank roll with laughter again.

  David grinned, pulled the mud from his cheek, and flung it at Frank. It struck Frank in the mouth and he abruptly started choking.

  Now it was David’s turn to laugh as Frank spit globs of dirt onto the ground.

  “Had enough?” David asked.

  Frank spat. “Enough. Let’s head back for dinner. I’m starved.”

  The brothers walked in silence back toward the Temple where they had lived for the last ten years with their mother and father. Their life was good, considering they lived in a cave.

  Days consisted of two sets of lessons. Shizu, Rowan, Maza, and a handful of other Watchers taught Frank and David about magic, combat, the Fallen, and of the Realm of the Second Death. The boys learned the Second Death had its followers too – cultists whose only desire was to free their shadowy masters and bring evil and destruction into the world. They learned a mixture of light and dark sorcery to ensure balance and knowledge of the yin and yang of the universe.

  Then there were lessons in math, reading, writing, and other boring stuff their mother made sure they received as well. Frank hated those lessons. Who cared about algebra when he could create a sword of energy with his hands?

  Mom cares. And she was probably right. In the midst of all the magic and monster talk, the “real world” lessons were important too, he supposed. It reminded him of who and what he and the other Watchers protected. Few people knew what he knew. They went about their lives blind to the evil that surrounded them. These were the people he was sworn to protect.

  His father had taken a liking to this life as well, though he was worthless as a sorcerer.

  Jason had found his true calling in the farming of all things. Before the Order came into their lives, he held a corporate job doing finance for a small investment company. Frank remembered how much he hated that job. Soul-sucking, his father had called it.

  The Temple had little use for a man who knew his way around a balance sheet, so his father tried his hand at farming and it took. The Temple was on the land of a working farm in Garrison, New York, hidden in a huge expanse of undeveloped highlands and forest that spanned several hundred acres. It provided a believable front for the Watchers and Jason became the face of that front. Moreover, he was actually good at growing things. The Temple was always full of fresh fruits and vegetables and the boys were grounded in their chores and the real world farming business their father looked after. It allowed the boys to train and learn about both worlds, which was an important part of their development and understanding of the universe and this realm.

  At least that’s what the adults told them.

  “You’re really fast now,” David said. “How did you keep up with that deer?”

  “I don’t know, slow poke,” Frank said. “Just comes naturally.” He tapped him lightly on the arm with his fist.

  “Will I ever be that fast?”

  “I don’t know. Shizu would know. Probably not. I’ve like, got the gift.”

  “Oh yeah, you’re a real gift.”

  David reached up and tried to grab Frank in a headlock, but he easily ducked out of the way and nudged him back a few feet. He felt light as paper to Frank. Another benefit of having the gift. In addition to unnaturally high cosmic energy levels, Frank was stronger, faster, more durable, and agile than regular people. He wasn’t exactly Superman, but he was stronger and faster than average men. He had never tested his strength, but had once seen a Watcher named Tarek lift the back of a broken-down tractor. Shizu said it had something to do with his genes.

  Frank’s parents were descendants of the Fallen. Their roots could be traced back to the original Watchers. Frank’s mother and father each carried the recessive Watcher genes. It was like how people got blue eyes. Few people carried the Watcher genes and every once in a while, two carriers had a child, and that child would be born with the gift – part human, part alien or angel, depending on what you believed.

  Shizu, Rowan, Maza, and pretty much everyone else at the Temple were Watchers. Apparently, it can skip siblings within a generation or something, which was why David didn’t have the gift. Frank believed no one really knew how people are born Watchers. This stuff was older than the Earth itself and whatever knowledge people had of it was fragmented and incomplete.

  Shizu told Frank it was a blessing and a curse and that he needed to be respectful of his gift. That was what he was teaching Frank and his brother at the Temple.

  And how to blast stuff with light energy and shit.

  The boys approached the Temple and Frank’s stomach growled.

  “Race you to the kitchen,” he said, starting to trot.

  “Nah, you’ll win,” David said. Frank slowed down to a walk.

  “What’s that?” David asked, pointing to the side.

  Frank glanced over, but didn’t see anything. “What’s what?” he asked, looking back over at David.

  He was already at the entrance to the Temple.

  “Sucker,” he called and ducked inside.

  Frank shook his head, smiled and headed in after him. He was looking forward to seeing Maza at dinner. When they got inside, they heard their mother call to them.

  “You boys are a disaster,” Robin said. “Get cleaned up before dinner. I won’t have you sitting at my dinner table looking like you just rolled in the mud.”

  “But, Mom, we did,” Frank said, snickering.

  She shot him a look that said, Don’t sass me or you’ll regret it.

  “Dinner is just about ready and your father is on his way,” she said. “I expect you boys to be cleaned up and in the dining hall in ten minutes.” She turned on her heel and went back to the large pot on the wood-burning stove. In addition to her teaching duties, she had also taken over as chef for the Temple, which meant she had to cook for about twenty hungry warriors plus her own family. She had help, but Frank’s mother had always been a control freak and had her hand in everything in the kitchen.

  Frank and David made their way out of the kitchen and toward the training center where they could take a shower in the locker room.

  “Didn’t know Jason brought the hogs in for training,” Brennan said, passing them by on their way to the showers. He chuckled to himself and the boys let the comment go.

  Other Watchers passed them, grinning or shaking their heads as the boys stripped in the locker room and got u
nder the water.

  Frank let the hot water run down over his shoulders, gently massaging the rough day of training and fun with his brother out of his muscles. Clumps of dirt fell to the tiled floor and circled the drain at his feet. He watched them there, slowly dissolving in the running water, breaking down from big chunks into little particles, and finally being caught in the water and circling out the drain between his feet.

  He closed his eyes and breathed in the steam deeply, its warmth relaxing his weary body.

  He reached for the faucet to shut off the water and suddenly felt a prickling up the back of his neck and froze.

  Something was wrong. A sense of dread came over him.

  He turned to David, who was finishing his shower and didn’t seem to notice what he was sensing.

  “David,” he said. “Something’s wrong.”

  “What is it?”

  “I don’t know. Get dressed. Quick.”

  They dried and dressed in a flash and ran back to the kitchen, bumping into other Watchers as they sped through the cavernous halls of the Temple.

  Their mother was putting plates of food on the table. Some of the other Watchers must have perceived what Frank had because as soon as they arrived, Watchers were standing and murmuring to each other, their faces stern.

  “Mom,” Frank said, hearing the worry in his voice. “Where’s Dad?”

  “I told you he’s on his way in from the fields,” she said, and then the worry Frank felt was reflected in her face. “What is it?”

  “Something’s wrong.”

  33

  JESSIE

  October 20, 2015

  Chicago, Illinois

  No words were spoken until they got to the door of her room. Jessie slipped the keycard into the door and the light above the door handle went from red to green. They stepped inside and she closed the door behind them.

  She guided Tarek into the sitting room overlooking the city. He walked to the window and she stared at the silhouette of his broad back against the cityscape. She readied herself.

  “Beautiful view, isn’t it?” she asked, creeping up behind him as he stared out the window and over the city.

  “Fe’nath burath’ u!” he said, spinning and pointing his radiant hands at her. Bolts of blue energy shot from his palms. The light wrapped around her, starting at her feet, and moving up her body and around her arms, binding her.

  “No! You bastard! No!” she screamed.

  Her mind flew into action. As the binds approached her neck, she knew she had one chance.

  “Ful’ghgta! Rah’fghla. Sjftar agj’kelft Arraziel!” she shouted, as the band of light touched her lower lip.

  The room grew dark and the cityscape faded in a haze of midnight black. From the corners of the room, the shadows slipped from the walls and glided across the floor, pulling the darkness with it into a shadowy form that grew by Jessie’s side.

  The smell of sulfur filled the room as the shadows turned to clouds of black smoke and fire. The smoke swirled and glowed red, orange and yellow with veins of flame coursing through it. An inferno raged above the floor, singeing everything around it.

  Arraziel arose from the flames and filled the room.

  His ram’s head took shape, black as the starless night, his eyes glowing with the orange fires of the Second Death. He gnashed his sharp teeth as his body formed. A human-like torso and arms appeared with skin the color of black ink that glistened from the blaze beneath him. Fur-covered legs grew from his waist. His eyes gleamed and his hooves clomped as he gazed at Jessie.

  The blue-white light nearly covered Jessie’s mouth, but she managed to speak before the bindings covered her lips. “Arraziel, help me!” she spoke as the last length of light covered her mouth.

  A blast of energy came from the window side of the room, striking the two of them. Jessie was blown back across the room and onto the floor. Arraziel stumbled, catching himself on the wall with his hand.

  Arraziel stomped his hoof as he regained his footing, and stepped between his master and Tarek, the man-like muscles in his arms flexing at his sides.

  “Lufthwaa!” Tarek shouted, and a ball of blue fire hurtled toward Arraziel. The demon raised his arm to block the blow, which engulfed his head and shoulders, and crackled against his skin.

  Arraziel shook as the onslaught continued to pound him. Tarek sprang across the room and landed on the floor on the other side of the room in a roll.

  “Es’ nahfth’ fal!” he shouted, and a long staff of electric indigo light grew from between his hands. Crouching in front of Arraziel, he attacked.

  Jessie’s eyes bulged as she watched the battle take place in front of her, helplessly bound by Tarek’s sorcery.

  Tarek launched himself at Arraziel, staff first. Arraziel reached for him and with the agility of a cat Tarek moved aside and brought his weapon hissing down through the air, lopping off the demon’s fingers. The fingers fell disintegrating into a puff of ash as they hit the floor.

  Arraziel glanced at his hand and his eyes beamed, narrowed, and focused on Tarek, who was already starting his second attack.

  Tarek charged, his staff whistling through the air. Arraziel dodged, moved forward and to his right, and grabbed Tarek by his arm with one hand and his torso with the other. Arraziel’s shoulders rippled as he lifted Tarek in the air. Arraziel pulled and Tarek shrieked as the tendons and muscles stretched and tore. The demon ripped his arm off, the staff evaporating into the air, and flung Tarek to the floor. Arraziel took Tarek’s arm and clubbed him with it, blood spraying across the room.

  Arraziel bludgeoned the Watcher with his own arm over and over. Jessie cheered in her head as she heard the bones of the bastard’s arm snapping with each blow. Tarek shouted and Arraziel muffled his cries by shoving the mutilated arm into his mouth. Tarek’s eyes bulged, his cheeks tore open, and tears streamed down his cheeks.

  Tarek lay on the ground unconscious, a pool of blood forming around him as his shoulder bled out. Arraziel glanced back to Jessie. She motioned for him to come.

  Arraziel moved toward Jessie, the bands of light that enwrapped her fading away. Jessie stood, her chest heaving, sucking in air, gasping and catching her breath. Her face contorted with anger.

  She ran to Tarek’s side, filled with rage, and kicked him in the face until he became unrecognizable. Then she picked up his arm and hit him with it over and over.

  Enough, princess! We need him yet! the dark voice in her head commanded.

  Her mind raged with hysterical anger at the world, at this man, as she tried to regain control of herself. She dropped Tarek’s arm and fell to the floor, kneeling in the man’s blood. Her face went deadpan, and she became strangely calm.

  I told you, didn’t I, princess?

  I will never doubt you again, my King. We have him now and he will lead us to Pasmet.

  “Arraziel, stop his bleeding,” she said.

  The demon’s glowing hand moved to the hole in Tarek’s side and cauterized the wound. Tarek moaned and shifted, his eyes opening for a brief moment before fluttering closed again.

  Jessie went to the bedroom and grabbed the Arraziel book. She flipped to the map on the back cover. The symbol for Pasmet was not exactly in Chicago. It’s north, along the lake. That’s where she would start. It was as good a place as any, and she had to get out of here now. There could be more Watchers on the way.

  She grabbed the other books of dark arts and threw them in her knapsack. “Arraziel, get us out of here, quickly,” she said gutturally as she looped the bag around her shoulders. She glanced down at Tarek. He was a bloody mess of gore, but he was still alive.

  You don’t get to die yet, Watcher. But you’ll wish you were dead soon enough.

  “Take him too,” she commanded.

  Arraziel took Jessie in one arm, put her on his back, and picked up Tarek in the other. He crouched low. “Hold,” he growled and Jessie wrapped her arms around his neck tightly. Arraziel stomped to the window, raised his h
oof, and kicked out the glass of the window, sending shards tinkling to the ground below. Arraziel leaped through the window and out into the crisp night.

  Jessie cackled as she fell through the air in the safety of her demon. Arraziel landed on top of a black car in the street amid falling glass. People screamed at the sight of him.

  With his master on his back and his captive under his arm, he stomped down the street and away from the hotel.

  Cars screeched to a halt and crashed into one another in front of him. He kicked one that was in his path out of the way. It flew through the air and into the side of building, exploding as it impacted, sending flames and smoke into the air.

  “Destroy anything in your path, Arraziel. Don’t let anything stop us,” she said into his ear.

  “Yes,” he growled and ran down the street.

  “Out of the city, Arraziel. To the north, along the lake!” Jessie shouted and the demon ran zigzagging through downtown streets of Chicago, pedestrians screaming and scattering at the sight of him.

  Policemen appeared from around a corner and fired their guns at Arraziel. The bullets had no effect, bouncing harmlessly off his chest.

  Arraziel pursed his lips and blew. A plume of flame shot from his mouth and engulfed the men. They ran down the street on fire, falling to the ground, the smells of burning flesh and hair filling Jessie’s nose.

  She heard sirens in the distance and suddenly, police cars surrounded them at an intersection.

  “Hold,” Arraziel growled, adjusting Jessie to his front. Jessie held on tightly as Arraziel leaped to the side of the Wrigley Building, grabbing on with his hand and then rapidly climbed with one arm pulling and his legs pushing him higher, scaling the side of the building. Bullets shattered glass around them and thudded against Arraziel’s back.

  Once they were on top of the building, Arraziel jumped from the rooftop to next, soaring hundreds of feet through the air. Then to the next and the next until the buildings became houses, the streetlights faded, and they were out of the city and the woods were in front of them.