The Watchers (Book 1: The Watchers Series)

by Lynnie Purcell

There’s something about funerals I hate. Beyond the dead bodies, I mean. What made this one worse was the fact that Amanda was angry, hurt, and only there because her aunt had forced her to come. You didn’t have to be a mind reader to see it. It was written on her face and every impatient shift of her body.

  Daniel had his arm draped around my shoulders as we walked across the spongy ground towards his car. The sun, which had finally broken the pallor of winter’s grip, beat down at us warmly. A trickle of sweat rolled down my back as I walked. It was the first day I hadn’t had to wear Daniel’s jacket. Spring was here at last.

  Amanda walked with her Aunt Colleen two or three people ahead of us, the pastor finally releasing us from his droning monologue. Her head was bowed as she struggled with overwhelming emotions; emotions she couldn’t make heads or tails of. I could clearly hear her thoughts over everyone else. They were too loud and too angry to ignore. I knew what I had to do. I had been contemplating it ever since we arrived.

  I stopped Daniel and Alex, who was walking with us.

  Alex not only forgave me for changing her into a Nightstalker, but was handling the whole thing stoically. She’d said a part of her had known the possible consequences and hadn’t cared. She couldn’t remember much beyond feeling called to the bunker and the overwhelming rage, but she knew she was glad to have helped. She was an amazing friend. One I was glad to have.

  “I need to talk to Amanda…do you mind?” I asked as I faced them.

  Daniel smiled and shook his head. His green eyes told me he knew what I was doing. “We’ll wait by the car.”

  Alex looked at Ellen and Sam, who were talking to a short man standing near the casket. When they walked away from the man – through the gravestones and deeper into the cemetery – Sam’s hand rested on the small of Ellen’s back. I watched them, sensing that Ellen wanted to pay her respects to my grandfather. Although Ellen’s face was solemn with the idea of what she was about to do, she was glowing at Sam’s touch. “Actually, I need to talk to Dad about something before he leaves,” Alex said.

  “You need money for clothes for your date.” I smirked.

  Davis had finally gotten up the nerve to ask Alex out. With everything that had happened, that simple act had given me the most hope. Life wasn’t all about pain and heartbreak, it was about the little things, like a boy finding the courage to ask a girl out.

  “When don’t I need money for clothes?” Alex asked with a smile.

  “When you’re asleep, I suppose,” I said.

  “Not always,” she said.

  She waved a brief goodbye and hurried to catch up with Sam before he got too far away. I kissed Daniel on the cheek and ran to catch up with Amanda in the other direction.

  “Amanda!”

  Amanda and her aunt turned at the call. The pair was almost carbon copies of each other, the only difference being that Amanda had dark brown eyes and Colleen’s were blue. Colleen was dressed in an expensive-looking suit that matched her salon-styled hair perfectly. I remembered hearing that she was a big book editor in New York City. Despite having a no-nonsense face, and a keen knack for business, her thoughts told me she was compassionate, a feeler, totally opposite from her brother.

  “Can I talk to you for a second?” I asked Amanda, catching a curious glance from the aunt.

  Amanda was still rather pale from her near-death experience. The way she had looked at the bottom of the river flashed in front of my eyes. It made it hard to look at her, but I kept my eyes trained on her dark eyes, knowing I had to tell her the truth. She had to know that the reason for her anger wasn’t as justified as she thought.

  Her first thought was angry. Someone else who didn’t know how bad a person he was telling me they’re sorry. Sadness, guilt, and gratitude swept over her as she remembered what I had done for her…how I had also kept her suicide attempt to myself and not spread it to the school. Her eyes softened. But for her, I’ll endure the platitudes. “Sure.”

  I pulled her out of her aunt’s range of hearing. “How are you feeling?” I asked.

  “Oh…okay…you know…” She shrugged, uncomfortable.

  “Good…” There was a moment of awkward silence before I blurted out the reason I had stopped her. “I don’t know how much you really know about how your father died…”

  Her eyes grew wide, not expecting that. “It was an animal attack. That’s what Chuck said.”

  “Not…not exactly. I can’t go into details, but he was helping out some people who weren’t very nice.”

  Figures. Must have been that creepy man who kept coming around.

  Slightly startled by the vision of Thomas she had forced on me, I continued, “The whole story doesn’t matter, what matters is that at the end he was trying to save you. The bad people were using your suicide attempt as a way to draw…others out, and your father didn’t want any part of that. He tried to stop them, and they killed him for it. His last act was to try and save you.”

  I don’t believe her! “How could you possibly know that?” she demanded. Her brown eyes burned into mine. Their intensity reminded me of Sheriff Cobb.

  “I just do. It’s the truth.”

  Amanda looked at me skeptically. I kept my eyes on hers, facing her skepticism with stubborn determination. It was important she believe. I heard her thoughts fight their way to the conclusion I was telling her the truth. Maybe, subconsciously, she realized I had powers beyond the normal, or maybe she wanted to be able to believe in her dad again. Either way, her eyes filled with tears.

  “You’re not lying to me, are you?” she pleaded.

  “I swear to you on my mother’s life, on my life, I’m not.”

  “I…My father wasn’t a good man. Nothing will change that fact, but…thank you for telling me.” She hesitated. “And thank you for saving me. There are things I still need to work out but…you’ve given me so much.”

  She hugged me, startling me with the action. She would never forgive her father for the things he had done to her, the abuse he had inflicted, but she had the knowledge that, even for a brief moment, he had loved her enough to die for her. I figured a person could go far with that kind of knowledge. She released me, her sadness taking away her voice, and walked over to her aunt, who was waiting by the car. I watched her walk, thinking over her future.

  She would be moving to New York as soon as all the arrangements were done – a move that provided her with new opportunities and endless possibilities. I hoped her future would be better than what her past had given her.

  Daniel appeared at my side and took my hand. We walked to the car. “That was a very kind thing you just did,” he said.

  “It was the truth.”

  “It was kind all the same.”

  He smiled at me, his eyes impossibly soft. He opened my door, and I slid in as he walked around to join me. I watched him walk, feeling strangely happy, as if a weight had lifted off me. We didn’t have the results from all the tests Beatrice and Han had done. We didn’t know what my future held, or what kind of creature I was, but we had each other. I figured, like Amanda, I could go far with that.

  “Would it be inappropriate for me to tell you how amazing you look?” he asked, starting the Audi and maneuvering around the parked cars.

  “Yes,” I said, looking at the black dress, heels and jewelry Alex had forced on me.

  “I won’t say it, then.”

  “That qualifies as saying it,” I retorted.

  “I was never one for the appropriate.”

  “That’s the truth…” I turned to talk to Alex, but the backseat was empty. I looked at the side of his face questioningly. “Did we ditch Alex?”

  “No. She left with Sam and Ellen. They’re going out to lunch…I asked her if we could be alone for a little while because I have a surprise.”

  “What surprise?”

  He laughed. “You can’t ask about it in that demanding tone, Clare. It won’t make me tell you what it is.”

  I made a face.
“Do you think she’ll recover?”

  “You or Amanda?” he asked pointedly.

  “Don’t start.”

  He thought about his answer. “I tried to look through all the possibilities, as much as I could, and I feel like Amanda is going to flourish in New York. It’ll be good for her.”

  “I hope so.”

  He made another turn and I realized we were headed towards his house. I hoped his surprise didn’t involve needles. I couldn’t handle any more of those. They had been my mainstay for the past two days. Oddly enough, though, his place had become my refuge. Even though the tests happened there, it was the one place that was unassailable. It was my castle in the woods.

  “Clare…I’ve been meaning to ask you something.”

  “What?”

  “When’s your birthday?”

  I stared at him, peeling my eyes away from the trees, which were encroaching on the road as we drove up his mountain. We had been trying to keep the weird things at bay, concentrating on being together as a couple, but I knew in spite of that, or maybe, because of it, that the weird things couldn’t be put off forever. My throat was suddenly dry. Did my birthday even mean anything anymore? Did it matter that I would turn seventeen? I thought I had jumped that barrier when I had killed.

  “October 31st. Why?”

  “Halloween?” He laughed. “That’s awesome.”

  “Why?” I asked again.

  “I want to get you a present of course. Something special. You only turn seventeen once.” He thought about my age for a moment. “You skipped a grade didn’t you?”

  Ignoring his question I asked, “Are you sure you’re not asking because you’re wondering if it’ll have any effect on what I can do? Or how much time we have before they come looking for me again?”

  “Nope,” he said.

  “No, you’re not sure, or no, you’re not?”

  “No.”

  We drove past an old well house, which reminded me of the cellar I had fought Thomas in. My heart started pounding at the memory. Cobb’s desperate eyes filled my thoughts. “Do you ever stop thinking about them?” I asked quietly.

  His lips hardened, and his eyes grew distant. He knew I meant the deaths I had caused. “Only when I’m around you. When I’m alone…well, that’s another story. So, no. They never really leave you.”

  “I’m afraid because…because….”

  “A part of you enjoyed it? You felt righteous when they died?”

  “Yes,” I admitted.

  “I’m not going to gloss over the fact that you killed them, or downplay your role in that, because I know you don’t want me to, and because you wouldn’t listen. I’ve been there. But I will say this. You didn’t kill them in cold blood, Clare. You killed people who were threatening your life and my life. It wasn’t a vengeful slaying. You did take those lives, but you took them because you had no other choice. That’s what distinguishes us from them. We kill when there is no other choice.”

  “But a part of me…” I began.

  “That’s the part of you that you have to always look at honestly. Keep it to the front of your brain. It will help you know when it’s time to defend yourself or when you are closing in on the boundary of wanton murder.”

  “I feel so weak, and vulnerable, and bad, all at the same time.”

  I was getting better at sharing the darkest parts of me, at coming clean about my weaknesses. Daniel was very understanding. He’d been through so much in his long years that he didn’t judge me for whatever I said, and that helped.

  “You’re the opposite of bad and the epitome of strength. But, it’s okay to feel that way. When I first killed…I felt the same way. Worse actually.”

  “Only you didn’t have you for comfort,” I said, realizing how much support I really had.

  “I did have me. That was part of the problem,” he said.

  “You know what I mean.”

  “Yes. If I’d had you, I would have…” he trailed off, his eyes wistful.

  I reached over and took his hand. You have me now.

  He squeezed my hand then released it, so he could push the button on his visor. Through the windshield, I saw we were at the black gates to his house. The tires of the car crunched into the gravel as we circled up to the house and parked near the broad front stairs. He helped me out of the car and we walked up the stairs together. When he shoved the front door open, I got chills.

  “Why do you look like we’re stepping into a house laced with explosives?”

  “It’s too quiet. Where is everyone?” I tugged at my dress nervously.

  “I asked them to leave for a couple of hours so we could have some privacy.”

  “For the surprise?”

  “Yes.” His eyes danced with laughter, the seriousness of our prior conversation gone or suppressed.

  He pulled me to the stairs to get me walking. We made our way along the stone steps and through another hall, past the library, the home theater on the second floor, and up two more floors of his massive house. Why did this surprise entail climbing all the way to the top of the house? He finally stopped at the bottom of a small set of metal stairs that spiraled up.

  “This is my room,” he said. “I want you to shut your eyes.”

  “How will I walk up the stairs with my eyes shut?” I said warily. I was hedging a bit, wondering why he was acting so secretive.

  “I’ll carry you. Just shut your eyes.”

  I clamped my hand over my eyes as verification that I wasn’t peeking. He picked me up and threw me over his shoulder. I was laughing by the time he set me back down.

  “Okay. Just one more second.” He checked my hand was still in place.

  I heard movement and something being set down. “Can I open them now?”

  “Yes.”

  I took my hand away. Daniel’s room was circular, the walls made out of glass. I felt, as I turned a complete 360 degrees, like I was in a tower; a tower that was half tree house. The furniture was simple and light, designed for comfort rather than show. I could see Daniel staying up here, finding solace in a life that I knew was full of danger. I could see him reading for hours in the chair by the small fireplace, his strong hands turning the pages as the light danced on his face. Looking at the worn places where books had sat, I knew he had cleaned specifically for this moment. I wished he hadn’t. I’d have liked to see it without the changes.

  “This is beautiful,” I said.

  “Thanks.” He made an odd throat-clearing noise and I turned to face him. That’s when I noticed what he was standing next to. I felt my stomach fill with butterflies. Surely, he hadn’t? “Do you remember saying that you wanted me to have a sap story about the first guitar I bought?”

  Oh, God…he had.

  He reached out and stroked the mahogany guitar I had fallen in love with so many weeks ago. It made a pristine sound as his fingers strummed across the strings. “I figured there couldn’t be anything more sap ridden than the story I’m about to tell…I bought this guitar after running into a very beautiful, amazing woman in a music store. Admittedly, I ran into that woman after searching for her all over town because I wanted to talk to her again. I bought this the next day, thinking that if I did I could have a part of her near whenever I couldn’t be around her. But I couldn’t play it. I knew I couldn’t keep it to myself.”

  He picked up the guitar and held it out for me to take. I stared at him, a dozen reasons for not taking it formed in my mind. The first reason was the most obvious one. “Do you have any idea what this costs?”

  “As a matter of fact, I do.” He stepped closer and forced the guitar into my hands. “When someone who loves you buys you something, it’s not an obligation, Clare. It’s an extension of that love. Besides, I bought it for me originally. You’re getting it secondhand.”

  I started laughing. “You knew you would get me with that sap story, didn’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Was it real?”

  “A
bsolutely. I bought it from Martha the morning of our first car lesson.”

  “Don’t tell me, you have a tattoo on your wrist as well,” I joked.

  Daniel unbuttoned his white dress shirt and held up his wrist. He showed me a small track of writing. “I got this after my first…death. A reminder. It’s his name in Arabic.”

  “Why Arabic?”

  “Because that was the language he spoke.”

  “Oh.”

  I looked down at the guitar as an idea formed. “Sit down,” I told him.

  He crossed his arms, stuck out his jaw, and did his best impersonation of me. “I don’t like to be bossed around.”

  “Oh, hush. Just do as you’re told.”

  He bowed extravagantly then went and sat in the comfortable chair near the fire, the one I had imagined him in. Pulling the chair across from him closer, I sat as well. Running through my memory bank of memorized songs, I settled on one he had told me he liked. I started playing, “Tears in Heaven,” by Eric Clapton. My fingers were uncertain at first, but they gained confidence as the notes flowed out the way they were intended. I started to sing along as my confidence grew. His expression transformed from surprise to awe. I smiled around my singing, glad I hadn’t disappointed him.

  I realized something as I played. I wouldn’t be a victim again. I would learn to control what was happening to me. I would find answers. I would fight back.

  Because what I had was worth fighting for.