by D McEntire
The clock is ticking…
The Watchers, Book 4
The phrase “home sweet home” means nothing to Marie DeVeux. Her parents never understood her ongoing relationship with her dead grandmother. Plus, she’s plagued with dreams of a man being tortured. Dreams so real, the burden strips away every vestige of normal life. At rock bottom, she hears her grandmother’s voice telling her that the man exists, and she’s the only one who can save him.
Kern, a Watcher, should have been more careful when he wished for a little more excitement in his life. Kidnapping wouldn’t have been his choice. Torture, solitary confinement and starvation have left his soul consumed by a burning rage and inner demons that push him to lash out at the first face he’s seen in eight long months. Marie.
Is this woman his knight in shining armor, or just another experiment? Kern must sift through the chaos of his mind for the truth that lies hidden in his heart. And make a decision before time runs out—for them both.
Warning: Contains dead relatives who never leave, climactic lab scenes, and a mad scientist.
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This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.
Samhain Publishing, Ltd.
577 Mulberry Street, Suite 1520
Macon GA 31201
Midnight Savior
Copyright © 2009 by D. McEntire
ISBN: 978-1-60504-697-6
Edited by Bethany Morgan
Cover by Natalie Winters
All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
First Samhain Publishing, Ltd. electronic publication: December 2009
www.samhainpublishing.com
Midnight Savior
D. McEntire
Dedication
To all of my supporters, thank you for keeping me going. I hope you enjoy Kern’s story.
Prologue
“Oh, come on, Debbie, hurry up.” The blonde haired girl whined and swayed slightly in the alley where she stood. High-heeled shoes scraped against the asphalt as she impatiently shifted her weight from one foot to another.
“Hold on. Don’t get your panties in a wad. Sheesh.” Another woman stepped out from behind a dumpster and hastily tugged at her miniskirt.
The two began walking down the narrow alley. Loud conversation and boisterous laughter reverberated off the buildings as they passed. It was obvious to Kern the two had been partying in excess during the fireworks festival along the riverfront in Louisville, Kentucky.
The scene before him was one of many he had witnessed this evening as humans and vampires flocked to the Kentucky side of the mighty Ohio River for the fireworks show.
Watching the women stagger down the dark alley, the lack of common sense most humans possessed amazed him. Didn’t they have any sense of self-preservation? Did they think themselves invincible?
Kern let out a soft snort at the thought. Humans were anything but invincible.
The cool night breeze shifted its direction. Kern froze, opened his senses and sought out his quarry. Rogues.
Two men appeared from the shadows, blocking the women’s path. Though similar in height and build, their hair color and style differed. One man had short, reddish-blond hair. The other’s black hair reached his shoulders. Kern didn’t need the women’s audible reactions to the men’s presence to tell him what he already knew. Rogues hid behind a mask of charm, which they used liberally to attract victims. These Rogues were definitely GQ meets Jeffrey Dahmer.
“Hey, ladies. Where are you beautiful women headed?” drawled the one with the black hair as he sauntered closer.
From Kern’s position, he could see the Rogues clearly. A meaningless smile adorned the face of the one who approached the women. His expression was far from genuine. One good look in his eyes said it all.
Obviously enjoying the men’s flirtatious behavior, the women giggled with abandon. Kern held in a groan at their naiveté.
“It’s not safe to walk the streets alone in the dark. Why don’t you two beauties allow us gentlemen to escort you?”
The second Rogue flashed a wide grin. Though it was meant to make him seem harmless, Kern knew the true meaning. Wait until I get you around the corner.
Kern rolled his eyes at the ploys Rogues used to get close to their victims. Before he could finish his mental reproach, the group had disappeared from view.
Time for action, he thought grimly. Kern leapt from his perch high atop an old brick building, which overlooked the alley. No sooner had his feet hit the pavement when a short scream, barely heard above the pounding music on the waterfront, reached his ears.
Fists clenched at his sides and ready for a fight, Kern quickly rounded the building, only moments behind the Rogues and their newfound prey.
A passing glance at the two women pinned against the brick wall of an auto shop assured him they had not been hurt—not yet. Their faces pale with fear, the girls stared at the glowing red eyes and protruding bloodstained fangs of their captors.
“Okay. Playtime is over. Let them go, and I’ll go easy on you. It’s going to be a long night, and I am so not in the mood,” Kern said dryly.
Growls erupted from deep within their throats as the two Rogues turned and glared at Kern. One Rogue emitted a slow, venomous hiss. The threat didn’t faze Kern. He almost returned the hiss, but decided against such a childish impulse.
The Rogues released their prey, but the females didn’t move. Eyes wide and chests heaving in fear, the women remained frozen, plastered against the brick wall.
“Go home. Now,” Kern bellowed at the women, his voice breaking the spell. The two peeled away from the wall and ran out of the parking lot, their heels clattering with every step. Kern breathed a sigh of relief when he didn’t have to tell them twice.
“Now, where were we? Oh yeah, cleaning up the streets of our fair city. It is trash day after all.” Kern shrugged a shoulder. “Guess they missed this alley.”
The Rogues approached him slowly, their evil filling the parking lot and sucking the air out of the night. In a smooth move, Kern brandished two daggers. He held one in each hand, eager to finish the battle. An ice-cold beer was calling his name.
Fangs bared, they rushed forward. Kern used the strength in his legs to push off the pavement and leap into the air. Muscled arms swung outward. The sharp blades found little resistance as they sliced through their backs.
Kern sailed over their heads and landed in a crouch behind them, waiting for their next move. Wails of agony quickly turned to howls of anger. Not only had he gained their attention, the Rogues were now royally pissed.
Straightening his stance in a calculated move, Kern made a point of popping his neck.
“You’re wasting your time, Watcher,” the reddish-blond hissed.
“There are more of us out here tonight than you could ever imagine,” the other interjected.
Kern laughed. Before he had taken up his post this evening, he had spoken with the local Cell leader regarding the bloocksuckers’ highly unusual plans to take over the city during the festival. The Watchers had expected their arrival and had everything under control. The two idiots in front of him must not have gotten the memo.
“You should have
stayed home. Nothing is going to happen tonight except the dusting of a whole lot of foul-breathed bloodsuckers like you.”
Kern did not wait for a retort. He leapt again, this time taking off the head of one Rogue with a swift cross swing of his daggers. His feet barely touching the asphalt, he pivoted and stabbed the other through the heart.
Both bodies were as still as statues. Kern could almost hear the seconds tick away before they began to fall. The headless body bent at the knees, then sank to the pavement. Though the legs on the second did not move, the torso swayed slightly. The momentum sent the body backwards. Within moments, the lifeless forms bubbled, emitting sickening crackles and pops as they disintegrated into piles of ash.
Leaning over one of the distorted masses, Kern brought his hand to his ear. “Hmmm, I do believe the Rice Krispies are speaking to me. What’s that? No. Sorry. I don’t have any milk.”
Kern straightened and laughed at his own morbid humor, but his lightheartedness did not last long. A heartfelt sigh passed his lips. He wasn’t sorry he had become a Watcher, though the circumstances behind it would forever taint his accomplishments.
After his seventeenth birthday, his parents had traveled to the United States from Greece. They had thought it would bring honor to the family to have their only son join the ranks of the Watchers.
He had been introduced to Dr. Olivia and other officials at Watcher headquarters in Texas, and as part of their recruitment program, he had been invited to remain at their training facilities for a week.
Joining the Watchers was not something to be taken lightly. It was a lifelong commitment. The vow to protect the innocent was upheld until a Watcher’s last breath.
While Kern had remained in Texas, his parents had caught a flight home. During the return trip, the plane had crashed and taken their lives. Fate had made the decision for him.
Since he hadn’t been eighteen, Mac, a Watcher who had been assigned to command the Cell in Corydon, Indiana, had taken him under his wing. The brother had been like a second father, watching over him until he was allowed to take the vow officially.
Now, here he was, standing in a darkened alley, listening to loud music and the chatter of several thousand people only a block away.
Kern ran a hand through his hair. He had felt something building inside of him for a while, but couldn’t quite put a finger on it. Was it boredom? He couldn’t push aside the nagging thought something was missing in his life.
Year after year Headquarters pulled him from whatever Cell he had been assigned to come to Louisville and assist in Rogue patrols during the fireworks festival. Now, he grew weary of his duties. With each passing day he upheld his mission—patrol the streets and hunt for Rogues. Each evening played out like the one before. Nothing ever changed. Just once he wished for a challenge. Something to break the monotony.
A whizzing sound caught his attention and brought him out of his thoughts. Kern felt a sudden sting on his back, then another, and another, as though he was being attacked by a swarm of bees.
Turning slowly on legs that were suddenly rubbery, Kern saw two males at the end of the alley. Each held a tranquilizer gun. A third man stood off to one side, his eyes gleaming, obviously pleased at what was happening.
Kern couldn’t speak. His tongue felt thick and swollen. Breathing became laborious. A cold sweat broke out across his brow as he fought to keep himself upright. His knees startled to buckle, then lost the battle. He met the pavement with a hard blow. Unable even to blink, he lay motionless on the ground.
The gun-toting men cautiously moved closer to where he lay with his face planted on the asphalt. They were joined by the third man who clapped one man on the shoulder as he spoke.
“Excellent. I knew it would work. Now, let’s get him in the van. We have to get out of here before more of them come.”
He stepped aside and chuckled. “I’m sure this one will prove quite useful in my research. He seems strong enough to last awhile. After we get him into the van, I’ll pay your fee and you can leave. I may call upon you again in the future.”
After unceremoniously being lifted from the asphalt, Kern struggled to keep his eyes open. With each passing minute, they felt more and more like manhole covers. Inside the van, the world narrowed, then closed around him.
Chapter One
Marie DeVeux stared out the barred window, not really seeing the sparse garden below. She was passing the time, trying to ignore the moans, murmurs and occasional loud shouts from others in the room. Hours of boredom in the Day Room had become a daily occurrence.
Marie glanced down at the plastic tag secured a little too snugly on her wrist. Though she knew them by heart, she read the words once again—St. Francis Behavioral Health Hospital, Athens, Georgia.
A gust of wind rattling the window caught her attention. Marie placed her palm on the cold glass. Outside, leaves blew about the grounds. She could not believe it was already December.
Marie hugged herself tightly. How had it come to this? Why her?
Images of a place she had never been and a man she had never met had plagued her endlessly since April. Whether awake and going about her day or deep in sleep, pictures, sounds and emotions had invaded her mind. Marie had found the intrusion harder and harder to bear.
She had tried everything she could think of to stay awake—pots of coffee, energy pills, energy drinks and walking the streets late at night—but everyone had to sleep sometime, and with it had come the dreams. For months she had lived through the stranger’s eyes. She had felt his pain, anguish and even his rage. It had not taken long before the lines between reality and dreams, between real and imaginary, between his life and hers had blurred.
Marie shivered and blocked another vision attempting to invade her mind. She silently warned herself she would not allow it entry.
The others wandered around the room, some bearing resemblance to zombies, some oblivious to the sights and sounds around them, while some stared at nothing in particular. Marie searched their faces for some sign of what went on in their heads. Did any of them suffer this turmoil? Did they see and hear things not there?
A thought struck her, one that made her chest tighten in fear. If her burden continued, she could quite possibly end up like one of them—mindlessly wandering about the room.
Marie turned her attention to a man in the corner of the room. A shadow of the tree outside the window moved across his features. Though he was alone, he spoke to himself in a loud tone as his hands moved animatedly. His invisible friend reminded Marie of her childhood and the many visits she’d had from her grandmother. But there was one major problem. Her grandmother had died when Marie was an infant, so her parents had chalked it up to a child’s imagination.
When Marie had continued to insist she was telling the truth, her parents had decided the time for placating her was over. Instead of small smiles and nods, her declarations had received angry accusations of tale telling. Countless sessions of counseling had become her regimen after school.
Marie had finally learned to keep her mouth shut. Her grandmother had been the one she had blamed for her troubles, so Marie had done what she felt she had to do. She had shut her out. No longer had she listened to the older woman’s voice. It had not taken long for the visitations and whispered words to cease.
Suddenly, the door at the far end of the room swung open, pulling Marie out of her memories. A young woman entered the room and sat in a chair. She kept her eyes downcast, looking at no one.
The sight of bandage wrapped wrists brought a pang of sadness that pressed against Marie’s chest. She knew what it felt like to become so overwhelmed with despair the only thought was to make it stop.
The woman finally looked up, and their eyes met. Inside the watery blue irises Marie saw herself soaking in the tub, tears streaming down her face while she downed a bottle of Vodka. Around her swirled unseen demons—heartache, despair, failure. Her head and her heart screamed for the pain to stop.
Blinki
ng several times, Marie tried to halt the memory of that night, but it continued. As if she was at home, standing inside the bathroom door, she watched herself get out of the tub, dress, then crank the stereo as far as the volume knob would turn.
With the bottle still clutched in a tight fist, she poured several antidepressants into her hand, popped them in her mouth and swallowed, then washed them down with the alcohol.
Time slowed, but the pain radiating through her mind did not. After emptying the bottle down her throat, she lay on the floor and waited for mind-numbing calm to claim her.
Marie closed her eyes and took a deep breath, but the feeling of despair that had taken over her heart and almost halted its beat forever remained in her mind. Though the circumstances surrounding the woman’s and her own attempt at self-demise were surely different, Marie understood the pain. She also knew firsthand what happened after a self-checkout was denied.
Eight Months Ago…
Opening her eyes was a struggle, and she soon noticed her body felt as heavy as her eyelids. After a moment, Marie realized she was lying on a hospital bed. Though a thin blanket covered her naked body, she shivered, feeling the cold down to her bones.
Everything around her was hazy. Even the voices sounded strange. She tried to move, but heard a loud clang, followed by resistance on her wrist. After squinting to focus her wavering sight, gleaming silver came into view. She was handcuffed to the bed. A turn of her head led her to the metal’s owner. A policeman stood in the corner of the small room. Marie’s heart began to race. She wasn’t sure if the cuffs were meant as a restraint or if she was in trouble with the law. She had no idea if attempted suicide was illegal.
In an effort to speak, to ask the policeman if he was here for legal reasons, Marie tried to swallow and clear the thickness in her throat, but couldn’t. She glanced down. A red nasal gastric tube extended from one nostril. Her stomach had been pumped. Marie attempted to pull the irritation from her nose, but was brought up short by the handcuffs. She tried lifting her other hand, but it felt heavy, the movement exhausting so she gave up.
