Broken (Book 1, The Watcher Chronicles, Paranormal Romance), page 2
“What’s different?”
The man meets my eyes through the rearview mirror. A passing car’s headlights illuminates his face for a fraction of a second but that’s all I need to see that his eyes have turned completely black and glossy like pieces of marble.
“They weren’t as gullible as you.”
Before I know what’s happening, he thrusts his arms through the Plexiglas which separates the front seats from the back, passing his hands and arms through the one inch plastic like it isn’t even there. I slam both feet on the brakes just as his fingers are about to wrap around my neck. The force of my rash move causes the car to skid off the road slamming head long into a wood power pole along the highway. The airbag deploys from the steering wheel column and slaps my face like someone just kicked a soccer ball into it. As quickly as it inflated, the airbag deflates giving me time to unlatch my seat belt and stumble out of the car.
I feel disoriented from the impact but have enough sense left to draw the plasma pistol from my thigh holster and point it at the car.
The back passenger door blows off its hinges soon followed by Owen.
“Hands over your head!” I yell, trying to keep the gun steady in my hands while I try not to pass out.
“Now why would I do that?” Owen steadily walks towards me, no hesitancy in his actions.
“Stop where you are or I’ll shoot! This is your last warning!”
Owen doesn’t stop and I know if he reaches me I’m dead. I shoot.
The ball of plasma bounces off his face and dances off into the night sky, exploding into a shower of light like a sparkler on the fourth of July.
Before I even have a chance to get off another shot, Owen has one hand around my throat and uses his other hand to yank the pistol out of my grasp. I desperately try to pry his hand from my throat but it’s like his fingers are welded to my skin.
“Now just be still,” he whispers in my ear. “This won’t hurt much as long as you don’t try to fight me.”
The words are anything but comforting. Owen brings my body closer to his like he’s about to hug me. I feel more than see the right side of my body begin to meld with Owen’s left side, like two candles melting into one another. I grab him by the shoulders and desperately try to push him away but the added pressure only causes me more pain.
“Stop resisting,” he murmurs, as though he’s receiving pleasure from the process.
My mind rejects what I’m going through. I feel like someone who’s stepped into quicksand without anything around to use as a handhold. I don’t know what’s happening and I’m not completely sure I want to.
His shoulders begin to tremble beneath my hands causing my whole body to vibrate like a tuning fork. He finally starts to scream as loud as I am, thrusting me away from him causing me to fall ungracefully onto the ground. When I look back up at him, I see that half of his body is missing. The half mine occupied only moments before.
“What did you do?” He shrieks, like I should have all the answers.
My eyes feel like they’re about to bulge out of their sockets as I continue to stare at him, unable to move or even take in a breath of air to fill my burning lungs.
Owen falls down on the one knee he has left screaming in agony before exploding into a pile of black ash.
I hear the distinct pop of a Watcher phase in behind me. I assume its Isaiah and relax, comforted by the fact he will know what to do next because my mind is a maelstrom of confusion.
I finally find it possible to take in a deep breath but impossible to say anything to Isaiah who is strangely silent and still behind me. I turn my head to look up at him.
It’s not Isaiah.
I scramble to my feet to face a Watcher I’ve never seen before. Everyone in America knows what the five Watchers who help protect us looks like and this one isn’t one of the five. I know what a lot of the overseas Watchers look like and can’t seem to place him as one of those either.
In the dim light of night, his pale face glows softly. His grey wool button down coat flutters in the wind around his legs. Like all Watchers he is handsome but unlike other Watchers his face isn’t perfect. A deep scar marks his face running from right above his left eye to below his cheek bone. An imperfection no Watcher I’ve ever seen has.
His eyes stare into mine for a moment before moving to the pile of ash still lying on the ground behind me.
“Who are you?” I demand.
“Mason Collier,” he replies. His eyes slowly travel back to me. “More importantly,” he pauses, tilting his head and narrowing his eyes on me. “What are you?”
Chapter 2
“What am I?” I repeat, feeling slightly offended by the question considering who is asking it. “Shouldn’t that be my question to you?”
The corners of Mason’s mouth twitch like he wants to smile. “Touché, agent?”
“Riley. Jess Riley.”
He’s silent for a moment looking me up and down in one glance, like he’s trying to detect anything special about me. “Has anything like this ever happened to you before, Agent Riley?”
I take a deep breath and say, “No,” while sliding my pistol into the holster on my thigh. The steely weight of it against my leg brings a strange sort of comfort to me. “I can’t really say I understand what just happened to be honest. I was just doing a routine transport of the tearer to my station when he attacked me.”
Mason crosses his arms in front of him. “He wasn’t a tearer. He was changeling.”
“Which is what exactly? An alien?”
“No, it’s a type of demon that is almost impossible for even someone like me to detect.”
“A demon?” I ask, thinking he’s making some sort of joke. “There’s no such thing.”
“You say that like you know it for a fact,” he comments, tilting his head at me. “Why?”
“Demon’s are mythological creatures. If demons are real, then there would have to be a God too.”
This time it’s Mason who looks completely confused.
“You don’t believe in God?”
“If a benevolent God actually existed, He would do something about that.” I point directly above us to the Tear.
“What if He’s leaving it there for a reason?”
“It would have to be a pretty damn good reason.”
I don’t feel like having this discussion with a complete stranger. Mama Lynn’s already tried to persuade me God had a purpose for putting the Tear in the sky, but none of her bible thumping religious mumbo jumbo ever convinced me the God she loves and believes in so blindly could have a good enough reason to take my parents away. I can’t place my faith in a higher power that could be so heartless and cruel for its own nefarious purposes.
“Greenleaf is the Watcher for this part of America isn’t he?”
“Yes. I actually thought you were him when you phased in behind me.”
Mason holds one of his hands out to me and I automatically shake it thinking he intends to leave me and search for Isaiah to inform him of my situation. Instead, I instantly find myself standing in the middle of Isaiah’s office at Watcher Headquarters in Memphis.
I stare at Mason with eyes wide and yank my hand away from his before he has a chance to whisk me off somewhere else.
“I didn’t know you guys could take someone else along with you,” I say, feeling like I need to explain why I might look like a startled rabbit.
“We don’t share the knowledge with many people,” Mason tells me.
“Why not?” I ask, walking over to the glass wall of Isaiah’s office which looks out over the Mississippi River, feeling a need to put as much distance as I can between me and Mason. “Afraid people will start bugging you for rides?”
Mason smiles sardonically. “Something like that.”
I hear the distinct pop of a Watcher phase in and silently let out a sigh of relief when I see Isaiah’s reflection in the glass.
Isaiah’s eyes are immediately drawn to Mason like magnets to metal. My mentor for the last year does something I have never seen him do before. He instantly drops to one knee in Mason’s direction and bows his head. It’s the first time I have ever seen a Watcher show complete humility towards anyone.
Mason walks over to Isaiah. His gate reminds me of a white tiger I saw once in a zoo. Confident isn't exactly the right word to describe it. It is more like he knows he is the most powerful being in the room but lacks the arrogance usually associated with such a fact.
Mason steps up to Isaiah and places his hand on my mentor’s head.
“Rise, Isaiah,” Mason’s words are gentle, like he’s talking to a trusted friend.
Isaiah stands to his feet and meets Mason’s eyes.
“May I ask what has brought you here?” Isaiah’s voice holds a note of uneasy reverence, a warning to me that Mason’s presence bodes danger.
“I came to tell you I’m recruiting one of your agents.” Mason briefly looks over at me before returning his attention back to Isaiah.
Finally noticing I’m in the room, Isaiah stares at me with a confused frown on his face.
“Why do you want Jess?” Isaiah asks.
“She just killed a changeling demon without even trying or knowing what it was. I think she might be useful in helping us solve the puzzle we were asked to deal with.”
“She killed a demon?” Isaiah asks in surprise, obviously sure he has heard Mason wrong.
Mason nods once.
Isaiah looks back over at me. “What are you, Jess?”
My temper flares at the question. “I’m getting really tired of being asked that like I’m some sort of freak. Isaiah,” I take a step forward, “what’s going on? You don’t really believe that man from the Hunt’s home was a demon, do you?”
“What happened exactly, Jess? Tell me everything.”
I tell Isaiah what there is to tell of my story. He listens to each of my words closely, like he doesn’t want to miss one syllable.
“Then Mason showed up and brought me here,” I say, finishing a story that sounds completely absurd to my own ears even though I was the one who lived through it.
Isaiah is silent after my tale which causes me more worry than anything else.
“From your file,” Isaiah finally says, “I remember reading that your parents were taken through the Tear when you were very young.”
“Yes, when I was seven.”
“So they were among the first to be taken.”
I nod.
“Did you go live with relatives afterwards?”
“No. The government wasn’t able to find any family on either my father or mother’s side. I was put into the foster care system like a lot of other kids who lost their parents that night. I got lucky though and was adopted by the foster parent I was placed with.”
“So you don’t have any living relatives?” Mason asks.
I shake my head. “Not that I know of.”
Isaiah and Mason glance at one another like what I’ve said confirms something their both thinking.
“What is it?” I ask, not appreciating being left out of the loop, especially when I’m at the center of it. “What do the two of you think I am?”
“We’ve only encountered a human who can kill the way you did once before,” Isaiah says. “Jess, did your parents have any friends who used to come over to the house? Any work colleagues? Anything at all that you can tell us about the people they associated with?”
I shake my head realizing for the first time how sheltered life with my parents had been.
“How did they make their money?” Mason asks.
“I was just a kid,” I reply. “I didn’t worry about things like that.”
“Did they work from home or go somewhere to work?”
I thought back through my childhood trying to piece together what memories I had of my parents.
“I don’t remember them ever working. I was home schooled by my mother and my father was always in the house. I never saw him leave home to go to work. I guess he could have worked from home or something but I honestly don’t know. What I do know is that whatever they did to earn money must have been lucrative.”
“What makes you say that?” Isaiah asks.
“Because when I turned eighteen a lawyer came to see me and told me I was a millionaire.”
“Why weren’t you given the money when your parents disappeared?” Mason asks. “With that sort of trust fund you should have stayed out of the foster care system.”
“He said my parents set up the account and conditions of disbursement when I was born. I guess in all their planning they never thought they would be sucked up by a wormhole and leave me an orphan,” I say defensively on their behalf.
“Even so,” Isaiah says, “all those taken through the Tear are declared legally dead. All of their financial wealth should have been given to you.”
“They’re not dead,” I remind him.
“To this world they are,” he in turn reminds me. “All of their financial property should have reverted to you.”
I shrug. “All I can tell you is that after the government liquidated their assets, I was told I had a little over a hundred grand. I don’t know why my parents didn’t have more than that in the bank. All I know is that the government deposited the money they could find in a savings account for me and the bank was directed to make good on the taxes on my parents’ house and land since I refused to sell them.”
“So, you really don’t know anything about your parents past,” Mason states.
“No, I guess I don’t,” I answer, keeping the secret about my father to myself. I know that’s what they’re fishing for: the real reason I’m different. More than likely the reason I was able to kill this so called demon.
“Could either of you have killed that thing?” I ask, doing my own sort of fact finding.
“We can’t kill demons,” Isaiah answers. “That’s why we’re trying to figure out how a regular human could have. Has anything out of the ordinary ever happened to you before now? Can you think of anything else that’s different about you, Jess?”
I shrug my shoulders not willing to trust them completely. My father told me to keep my secret to myself and that’s exactly what I’ve done all these years. I’ve always assumed my father would have explained why I could see ‘the truth of things’, as he put it, when I was old enough to understand. He simply wasn’t given the chance. But I wasn’t going to divulge the information to them so readily, not until I understood what I was first.
“Not much else I can tell you other than what you already know from my file,” I say and leave it at that. Lies get more complicated when you try to elaborate on them. I figure the less I say the safer I am.
Both Mason and Isaiah look at me like they know I’m holding something back from them, but neither seem ready to call me out on my small lie.
“Well, I’ll figure out how you killed the demon,” Mason says, completely confident in his statement. “In the meantime, I still want you to join my group.”
“Which does what exactly?”
“We’re trying to find a way to seal the Tear.”
“Seal it?” I look to Isaiah for confirmation. He nods his head, though something in his eyes tells me he’s not confident Mason will ever be successful in his task.
“How do you intend to seal the Tear?” I ask Mason. “And what makes you think I can help?”
“I’m not sure you can help,” he admits. “But there is definitely something unique about you and considering the type of creatures I usually end up dealing with, you might prove to be useful to me.”
I feel slightly offended at the way he makes his statement. I cross my arms over my chest and automatically take a defensive stance. “What makes you think I want the Tear closed?”
Mason frowns. “Weren’t you the one who blamed God for not closing it just a few minutes ago? I assumed you would be more than willing to help.”
I shake my head slowly. “No, I never said I wanted it closed. I said I blamed Him for not doing something about it.”
“Your logic is confusing,” Mason admits. “Can you explain exactly what the difference is?”
“I want my parents back. I can’t have that if the Tear is closed. If there is a God, then I blame Him for letting it be put there in the first place. The world’s got enough problems without having something like that hanging in the sky and randomly destroying people’s lives.”
Mason takes three slow steps towards me. “What if I promise I’ll do everything I can to help you find your parents?”
“Mason…” I hear the note of caution in Isaiah’s voice and instantly know he doesn’t think Mason can fulfill such a promise.
“You don’t know it can’t be done,” Mason tells Isaiah almost harshly.
“Have you ever been able to do it?” I ask, my arms dropping to my sides, daring to hope after all these years that I might actually have a way to get my parents back.
“Not yet but that doesn’t mean it’s impossible.”
I look to Isaiah and see the creases of his troubled brow. My mentor looks me in the eyes unwilling to voice the warning I see on his face. When I look back at Mason, his earnest expression makes me want to believe in his promise. He is giving me hope. It might be a fool’s hope, but it’s the only time anyone has ever offered me a real opportunity to find my parents and not just sit around and wait once a year hoping they make it back home to me by chance.
“I’ll help you,” I hear myself tell Mason. “I’ll join your team.”
Mason holds out his hand as if he wants a handshake to seal the deal. Without hesitation, I place my hand into his and instantly find myself standing somewhere that isn’t Isaiah’s office.
I’m really gonna have to stop shaking his hand.
Chapter 3“I wish you would stop doing that,” I say, tearing my hand out of Mason’s grasp. “Or at least give me a warning before you phase me somewhere.”
“Sorry,” Mason looks almost amused by my rebuke. “I really don’t mean to keep startling you. Traveling this way is just part of who I am. It’s not something I think about.”
“Well, start thinking about me if you want me to work for you.”
