Aiden's Story (A Watcher Novel)

by S. J. West

  “I don’t think Leah would like me having a hairy chest,” Joshua says.

  “And why would she care one way or the other?” Malcolm asks ominously, folding his arms in front of him and looking at Joshua the same way he used to look at me when it came to my physical contact with Caylin.

  “She…she probably doesn’t… I mean wouldn’t…” Joshua stammers as he looks at Malcolm worriedly, desperately trying to backpedal his way out of an innocent slip of the tongue.

  “Hmmm,” Malcolm says with a lifted eyebrow, raising his glass to his lips and drinking his portion of the vodka in one swig. He keeps his eyes narrowed on Joshua and lifts his now empty glass to Brutus, silently telling his friend to give him another shot.

  Joshua takes a small sip from his own glass and grimaces slightly.

  “Oh my God, is it supposed to taste like that,” Joshua asks, shivering slightly from his first taste of alcohol. “It tastes like how paint thinner smells.”

  Mason chuckles. “You get used to it. After a while, you learn how to appreciate the different flavors of certain liquors.”

  Joshua takes another sip and doesn’t grimace as much the second time.

  I take a swig from my own glass and instantly notice the fruity undertones in this particular bottle of vodka.

  I look over at Malik. “Has Tara driven you crazy with the wedding preparations yet, Malik?”

  “When does that woman not drive me crazy?” Malik jokes, sipping at his glass. “She and Lilly are so excited about this wedding they’ve driven everyone a little nuts with it. You would think this was the first wedding they ever planned.”

  “Well, it is the first daughter in the family to be married off,” Andre reasons. “I’m sure that holds a lot of significance for the both of them.”

  “Let me or Caylin know if you need any help from us,” I tell Malik.

  “Oh, the two of them have things handled,” Malik reassures me. “And the ladies at the church have been a big help.”

  Caylin picked the same church her mother and father got married in to have our wedding. I had only been to it a few times, but it was a nice, quaint church. A very Caylin place to have a wedding.

  “I guess Brand didn’t want to come this evening?” I ask Malcolm.

  “Definitely not,” Malcolm says definitively. “I think he was afraid there might be talk about babies, considering the company sitting around this table.”

  “If you had to wait for God only knows how long, and I mean that literally,” Desmond emphasizes, “for the chosen one to be born, you would want them to get to making babies as soon as possible too.”

  “Amen, Brother Desmond,” Andre says, tipping his glass in Desmond’s direction before taking his first taste of Brutus’ contribution to the evening.

  “Needless to say,” Malcolm continues as if Desmond just proved his point, “he decided to stay within the safe confines of his own home where the copulation of his first born child wouldn’t be a topic of conversation.”

  I couldn’t help but chuckle at how uncomfortable Malcolm himself looked about the subject. Therefore, I decided to change it.

  “Where are we going after this?” I ask.

  “Well, since we’re on this side of the world,” Daniel says, “I suggest we go to the place I picked in Beijing. I have a seventy-year-old bottle of Maotai waiting there for us.”

  Brutus grabs what’s left of his bottle of vodka, and we all phase to our next destination.

  After Daniel’s turn as host, Malcolm tells us we should all travel to his home in Lakewood next. For some reason, Desmond phases me there, but it doesn’t take me long to figure out why. We all end up in Malcolm’s backyard where stainless steel Tiki torches have been lit and positioned to form a perfect circle around us.

  “Is there something I need to know, gentlemen?” I ask, finding myself in the middle of the ring of torches while my Watcher friends begin to circle me as if I’m the prey and they’re the predators.

  “Malcolm told us about your private sparring matches with him,” Desmond tells me. “He claims that he’s almost as good as you at fighting. We wanted to test to see if maybe you just weren’t as fast as you used to be.”

  I grin at my friends because if there’s one thing I love almost as much as Caylin, it’s a challenging fight.

  “Then try your best,” I taunt them. “But it still won’t be good enough.”

  My friends try to ambush me all at once, but their strategy to gang up on me is futile. I quickly understand why Desmond told Caylin that I would be returned to her in at least one piece. He neglected to mention that the piece of me left might be a little bloodied and bruised.

  I don’t think the fight lasted as long as my friends wanted it to. In less than five minutes, I have most of them lying on the ground groaning in pain over the temporary injury of one body part or another. The only one left standing by the end is Malcolm.

  “This might be the last time we get to do this,” Malcolm tells me, breathing hard from the exertion of the fight so far. “Though, if you would rather keep fighting after you’re married, that’s fine with me.”

  I smile. “I wouldn’t mind it for the practice, but it definitely won’t be for the same reason.”

  “You know I’ll find a way to kill you if you ever hurt her,” Malcolm says in all seriousness as we circle one another. “She’s like a daughter to me. As long as you treat her with the respect she deserves, you and I won’t have any problems with each other.”

  “I promise you I will,” I tell Malcolm, wondering why he felt the need to say what he did. He should know better than anyone I would never do anything to intentionally hurt Caylin.

  Malcolm comes to a stop and holds out his hand to me as if he wants a shake of hands to cement my promise to him.

  I stop and take his hand only to be rammed in the face by Malcolm’s free elbow while he kicks my legs out from underneath me with one of his.

  “And that, gentleman,” Malcolm proclaims, “is how you defeat a War Angel. Find his weakness and learn the best way to exploit it.”

  I raise up on my elbows and begin to laugh as I nurse a bruised cheek.

  It’s the first time Malcolm has bested me in a fight. He might have used an underhanded technique, but it reminded me that you should never let your guard down around your enemies, even in a friendly fight. It was a lesson he taught me once before. I should have remembered it.

  Malcolm extends a hand down to help me off the cold ground.

  “I couldn’t exactly let you win our last fight,” Malcolm tells me as I take his offered assistance. “Then I wouldn’t be able to brag that I defeated a War Angel.”

  “I let my guard down when I shouldn’t have,” I tell him. “You won fair and square.”

  “Come on,” Malcolm says to me, slapping me on the back. “You’ve earned a glass of the Screaming Eagle Cabernet Sauvignon I have inside the house. It might even give you some time to heal that pretty boy face of yours that drives all the young women wild.”

  “I only care about one woman,” I tell him seriously.

  Malcolm looks at me contemplatively before nodding. “I know, Aiden. I know.”

  For the next two hours, we continue our journey around the globe, visiting each Watchers chosen bar, tavern, or pub. After our short stop at Malcolm’s, Jered takes us to a low-key pub in London where we share a bottle of Nolet’s Family Reserve Dry Gin. Then it’s off to Rome where Andre had a bottle of Romanee-Conti bottled in 2013 waiting for us in an upscale bar.

  “I thought it would be nice to commemorate the year your lovely wife-to-be was born,” he told me.

  Mason then takes us to Tuscany where he finds a rare bottle of 1920 Monfortino wine available, and the last stop on our tour of watering holes is Desmond’s favorite bar in Cardiff, which is located on the boardwalk by the bay. There we enjoy a nice bottle of 1951 Knappogue Castle single malt Irish whiskey.

  By the time we reach our last destination, Joshua is looking
a bit green around the gills. When he makes a mad dash for the men’s room, I have a feeling we will be losing his company for the remainder of the evening.

  “I guess I need to take our little human friend back home,” Mason says, sounding amused as he stands from the table. “I don’t need Jess yelling at me that I should have brought him home sooner.”

  “I was a little surprised that you did bring him,” I tell Mason.

  “Jess and I thought it would be good way to teach him a lesson. He was a little too excited about turning twenty-one and having his first drink. Now that he’s had this experience with it, he might not be as excited the next time. A little proactive intervention, if you will.”

  “Would you mind dropping me off at my house too?” Malik asks. “I promised Tara I wouldn’t stay out too late.”

  “No problem,” Mason tells him.

  I stand from the table and shake hands with both men. “Thanks for coming. It’s been a long time since I had a boy’s night out like this.”

  “After you’re married,” Mason says, “I doubt you’ll miss it much. I didn’t. Jess and the kids are all I need.”

  I nod because I already understand how Mason feels.

  “Come on, Malik,” Mason says. “I might need your help prying Joshua’s hands away from the toilet he’s undoubtedly holding onto for dear life right about now.”

  Malik chuckles and the two of them head off to find the youngest and only alcohol sensitive member of our group.

  When I sit back down at the table, Malcolm asks, “So what’s wrong, Aiden? When I saw Caylin yesterday, she sounded worried about you. She said you haven’t been acting like yourself lately. You’re not getting cold feet are you? Cause if you leave her standing at the altar, I’ll tear you to pieces myself.”

  I would have laughed, but I knew Malcolm was dead serious.

  “I have no intention of leaving Caylin at the altar,” I tell him. “The thought never even crossed my mind.”

  “Aiden’s letting his guilt rear its ugly head again,” Desmond tells the others.

  “You need to find a way to finally let all that go, Aiden,” Malcolm tells me. “We’ve talked about this before. You have to move on from your past so you can give Caylin the future she deserves.”

  “It’s easy to give that advice, Malcolm, but have you actually taken it for yourself?” I ask, knowing full well that Malcolm has been facing the same demons as me. “Can you honestly sit there and tell me what we did in the past doesn’t still haunt you every day of your life?”

  “Of course it still bothers me,” Malcolm grumbles, “but I’m not the one who’s about to marry my soulmate either. If you love Caylin, you need to find a way to at least let go of some of your guilt. You’ll never forget what you did, and I’m not saying you should. You need to remember who you were so you can appreciate who you are now. Caylin could never love a monster, and you need to stop thinking of yourself as one. Her feelings for you are proof to everyone at this table, except for you it seems, that you aren’t the same person you used to be.”

  I knew he was right, but it didn’t make letting go of my self-doubt any easier to do.

  “So do you have any suggestions on how to work this small miracle in seven days when I haven’t been able to do it since the first night I saw Caylin?” I ask Malcolm.

  Malcolm shakes his head. “No. If I did, I would have told you years ago. You’ll need to find your own way through this, Aiden.”

  I knew Malcolm was only trying to help, but without a plan of action, I felt lost on how to work through my problems with only seven days left until the wedding.

  Everyone slowly left the party leaving only Desmond and me. While he settled the bill, I went outside to get some fresh air by the bay. It was late in the evening in Cardiff. A few small sailboats were still drifting out on the water as I leaned my forearms against the cold black painted metal railing. A few people passed me by on the boardwalk, but I didn’t pay them any mind. At least not until someone I recognized came into my peripheral view. I turned my head to the right and found my father looking straight at me.

  “What are you doing here?” I ask Him, knowing His visits were never random events.

  “I came to help you along this part of your journey,” He tells me. “I thought you might need a little added support. What can I do to help you, Aiden?”

  “You’ve already forgiven me for the things I’m having trouble with,” I say. “I’m not sure there’s a lot more you can do for me.”

  “I’ve forgiven you, and yet, you still can’t forgive yourself,” my father counters. “I have an idea that might help you through this last phase of your transformation.”

  “Transformation?” I ask, feeling confused by His use of the term.

  “All sentient life goes through a period of growth and renewal. You are no different. Even though there are times in your life you would rather forget about, all of those events and the people you’ve encountered along the way have helped make you into the person standing in front of me. You shouldn’t shy away from what you once were, Aiden. You need to learn how to embrace your past and understand that everything you went through shaped you into the person Caylin has freely given her heart to.”

  I shake my head. “I don’t know how to do that.”

  “I know you don’t. And that’s why I’m here.”

  God hands me what looks like a tattered old book with a faded blue cover.

  I stand up straight and accept the book from Him. I flip open the front cover expecting to find it filled with His words of wisdom and encouragement, but instead, I only find a blank page. I begin to flip through more pages and find them all empty.

  “What is this?” I ask, puzzled by the purpose of the book.

  “It’s your journal,” my father tells me. “I want you to use it to write down everything about your life, from the very beginning up until now.”

  “For what purpose?”

  “I think if you do as I ask, you will better understand who you were, who you are, and who you’re meant to be. You’ve had a hard time finding a way to share your past with Caylin. I believe by doing it this way you will find it easier to honestly share your history with her. That journal will only open for you and whomever else you choose to let see it. Malcolm gave you some good advice earlier tonight, Aiden. You have to let go of the memories that still haunt your dreams before you can give Caylin the beautiful life you want for her.”

  I close the journal and hold it to my chest like a shield.

  “You think this will really help?” I ask, uncertain of that outcome myself, but I’ve learned to trust my father’s judgment over the years. My relationship with Him has sometimes been a tenuous one, but over the last few years, I’ve come to count on His council and guidance.

  “Yes,” He tells me with absolute confidence, “I do believe it will help you overcome the last obstacle you have to achieve true happiness.”

  “And what is that obstacle?”

  “Yourself. You are your own worst enemy, Aiden. Happiness will continue to elude you until you accept what you once were. Write down the story of your life, my son, and understand that everything that came before now happened for a reason.”

  God phases, leaving me standing alone and holding what could prove to be the key to my future.

  CHAPTER TWO

  I’m so lost in my own thoughts that I don’t even notice Desmond standing beside me until he touches my arm.

  “Are you ok, Aiden?” He asks, sounding worried.

  I look over at him and feel as if I’m waking from a self-induced trance. When I look down and see the journal my father gave me still wrapped in my arms, I know His visit wasn’t a figment of my imagination.

  “Yeah, I’m fine,” I tell him, pulling the book away from my chest and looking at its tattered cover.

  “What is that?” Desmond asks me, looking pointedly at the journal.

  “Our father just gave it to me. He suggested that I write d
own the story of my life in it. He seems to think it’ll be easier for me to share my past with Caylin this way.”

  “That’s brilliant!” Desmond says. “In fact, I should have thought of that.”

  “You can’t even finish that book of poetry you quit your job to write,” I joke.

  “True,” he admits, a bit chagrined by the fact, “but I lack sufficient motivation. You have plenty of it and a time limit to boot.”

  “Seven days…”

  “Well, I hate to tell you this, but it’s more like six now. This day is more or less over.”

  “I guess I should get started on it then.”

  “First things first, you need to go back to your lovely fiancé’s apartment and let her know you’re still in one piece. I did make a promise to her after all. And I never break my promises to beautiful women.”

  I don’t phase back to Caylin right away. I find myself hesitant to face her.

  “What do I tell her?” I ask Desmond. “I can’t exactly write a book about my life without spending a lot of time away from her before the wedding. I don’t think she’s going to like that very much.”

  “Whatever you do, don’t try to come up with some lame excuse to cover it up. You need to tell Caylin the truth,” Desmond advises. “She’ll understand that this is something you have to do.”

  I nod because I know he’s right. Caylin has and unending fount of patience when it comes to me.

  “But where are you going to go to write it?” Desmond asks.

  “I don’t know,” I admit. “I can’t do it in my apartment. It would be too distracting to have her so close.”

  “How about your home in Colorado?”

  I immediately shake my head.

  “Absolutely not. That house represents our future. I don’t want to dissect my past in there.” The perfect place suddenly flashes in my mind. “I still have my apartment in Istanbul. I never sold it after Mason moved me from the headquarters there to the one in Memphis, and it’s somewhere I’ve never taken Caylin. She won’t be able to pop in on me unexpectedly while I’m writing.”