Broken (Book 1, The Watcher Chronicles, Paranormal Romance), page 7
“But why now?” I ask. “Why fifteen years after the Tear appeared? Why weren’t you allowed to find me back then when it could have helped so many people?”
“I don’t know,” Mason answers. “It’s hard to know exactly what God’s plans are for us, but I trust Him to guide me in the right direction when it’s the right time.”
I almost envy Mason’s faith in his God. It’s something I’ve never been able to do so blindly. But if Mason was actually an angel, his faith wasn’t based on blind trust. He knew his God personally, something I was still having a problem wrapping my brain around. Mason’s God had borne the brunt of my hate for creating the Tear and allowing it to destroy so many lives. It was easier to just believe that type of God didn’t exist than believe He did and simply didn’t care enough to help us when we needed Him the most. A God like that I could do without.
I turn off of Hwy 1 onto Cloverdale Road. The house my parents and I lived in is close to the levee. The property is surrounded by a five foot high barbed wire fence and the entrance blocked by an electronic padlocked gate. In no time at all, we are parked in front of the two story farm house my parents left me.
We get out of the car and walk up the creaky wooden steps to the front porch and door. The wood swing hanging on the porch squeaks as the winter wind pushes it back and forth.
“So how are we supposed to figure out where the radiation signal is coming from?” I ask, finding the key to the house on my key ring. I know it’s old school to use physical keys instead of a finger print lock but like I told Mason, I don’t trust computers.
Mason pulls out his cell phone which is one of the new clear models.
“There’s an app to detect radiation levels,” he tells me.
I smile. “Are you serious? Who thinks of some of these apps?”
“I don’t know but every once in a while you find one which fits the occasion perfectly.”
After I open the front door, I let Mason step in first holding his cell phone in front of him, watching the read out on his screen to see if his app will lead him in the right direction.
The inside of my parents’ home is what you would expect to find in such a house. The furnishings are simple and rustic. Nothing too modern exists in the space except for the new appliances I had installed in the kitchen last year. The artificial Christmas tree we set up the year they were taken still stands in the corner of the living room with all of its lights and ornaments hanging from the limbs. Every week Ms. Mona, the cleaning lady, comes over and tidies up the house for me which mostly just consist of dusting and vacuuming. But, she keeps the house looking the same way it did when my parents were taken. I just hope one day I will be able to give them back their home just the way they left it.
“Do you stay here sometimes?” Mason asks, scanning the living room area with his phone.
“Every once in a while,” I say, walking over to the Christmas tree to straighten a wayward ornament of Cinderella.
Mason comes to stand beside me looking at the tree. “These decorations look more like you,” he comments.
When I look at the tree, I have to admit he’s right. An array of Disney characters, Santas, and homemade ornaments adorns the tree. My parents always let me pick out new ornaments every Christmas slowly building up our collection to fit what was important to me each year.
“I still believed in Santa Clause the year they were taken,” I hear myself say. “I asked the mall Santa to bring me an American Girl doll named Rebecca and I wanted a dress to match hers because that’s what the company used to do. But Santa never came to the foster care center I spent that Christmas in. I thought maybe that was why my parents had been taken, because he thought I was a bad girl that year. If Santa didn’t think I was worthy enough to have my doll, maybe he took my parents as a way to punish me.”
“I’m sorry you had to go through that,” Mason says and I hear the sincerity in his voice. “That must have been a hard time for you.”
“It was a hard time for a lot of people,” I reply, turning my back to the tree, no longer wishing to linger on my memories. “What does your phone say?”
Mason looks down at the read out on his display. “It doesn’t seem to be down here. I think we should look upstairs.”
I lead the way to the second floor by way of the staircase out in the foyer.
“There are three bedrooms up here plus my father’s study,” I tell Mason.
He points his phone in each direction and finally gets a spike on the display.
“That room,” he tells me, pointing to the door which leads to the study.
Of all the rooms in the house, my father’s study is the one I haven’t been in since my parents disappeared. It’s haunted by too many fond memories from my childhood. As a little girl, I would go in there and curl up on my daddy’s lap as we sat together in his leather recliner. He would read all the classics to me like I was a grown up. Huck Finn and Peter Pan were my heroes, whisking me off to strange new worlds with my father steadfast by my side to share the experiences with me.
I walk to the door and take a deep breath before turning the brass knob. I let the door swing inward. It creaks as if finding its voice to welcome me back after such a long time away.
Mason follows in behind me, sweeping his phone over everything from my father’s desk to the shelves of books and cabinets lining the walls. Finally, I see another spike show up on Mason’s display indicating the source of the radiation is coming from the brick fireplace. Mason walks to the fireplace trying to pinpoint the exact location of the radiation and finds that the signal is strongest within the chimney itself.
Mason quickly drops his phone back into his coat pocket and shrugs his coat from his shoulders. Before I know it, he has most of his body up the stack of the chimney.
“Do you see anything?” I ask, curious to know why something of any importance would be hidden inside my father’s fireplace.
“Hold on,” Mason says with a grimace as I see his body stretch like he’s trying to grab something almost too high to reach.
When he comes back out, he’s holding a medium sized metal box in one hand.
He walks over to my father’s desk and sets it down. There is no lock so he simply releases the catch and lifts the lid. Sitting inside the box is a pristinely polished silver crown with strange fluid, circular rune marks decorating its surface. I find myself mesmerized by its beauty and begin to wonder how my father came to be in possession of such a thing.
I hear Mason gasp, dragging my attention away from the crown to his face. It’s apparent he recognizes the crown and is as surprised to see it stashed away in my father’s study as I am.
“What is it?” I ask. “I mean I can see it’s a crown, but do you know where it came from?”
I see Mason’s Adam’s apple bob up and down as he swallows hard before telling me what he knows.
“It’s one of the seven archangel crowns,” he says with reverence.
“Why would something like that be stashed away in my father’s fireplace?” I ask.
“I don’t know, Jess.” Mason says looking up at me. “Can you tell me?”
Mason’s penetrating gaze makes me feel uncomfortable because I feel like he knows I’m keeping a vital piece of information from him. I can’t deny that I’m not but my father’s voice reverberates in my head telling me to keep my secret to myself.
“I’ve never seen it before,” I say honestly.
Mason stares at me, apparently expecting me to say more. I avert my eyes from his probing gaze and stare at the crown instead.
Finally, Mason reaches inside the box to pull the crown out. Just as he’s about to wrap his fingers around it, he stops, but it’s not like he does it intentionally. I see him strain to move his fingers inward to grasp the crown but it’s like there’s an invisible force field around it preventing him from performing such an action. Finally, with a grunt, not out of frustration but from strain, he gives up and withdraws his hand from the box.
“You try to pick it up,” Mason suggests to me.
“If it won’t let an angel pick it up, I seriously doubt it will let me,” I say.
“Just try, Jess,” Mason encourages, his voice asking me to trust him on this.
I shake my head completely confident I won’t be any more successful than Mason was. When I place my hand over the crown, I feel something like static electricity dance across my palm and quickly yank my hand back to my side.
“What’s wrong?” Mason asks, concern in his voice.
“I felt something,” I say. “Did you feel a tingling sensation when you tried to pick it up?”
“No, I felt nothing.”
With my heart hammering inside my chest, I place my hand inside the box once again, ignoring the electricity the crown seems to be pulsing with like a living creature against my flesh. With no problem at all, I wrap my fingers around the base of the crown and pull it out of the box. I stare at it not knowing exactly what to do with it now that I have it. Before I can ask Mason what I should do next, the iron box on the desk disintegrates into a pile of ash.
“Interesting,” I hear Mason say, like magic happens in front of him every day.
Maybe it does and I’m just the hapless human who is caught up in things I don’t quite understand.
“What do we do now?” I ask.
“I don’t know,” Mason says shaking his head. “I’m not even sure why the crown is on Earth.”
“You said it was an archangel crown?” I ask, just to verify I heard him correctly the first time.
“Yes. The archangel it belongs to should be wearing it right now, that’s why I don’t understand why it’s here. It should be in Heaven not on Earth. It must have been sent here to help in some way. I just don’t understand how.”
“Why can I hold it?” I ask. “Why couldn’t you pick it up?”
“I don’t know,” Mason answers. “But it was obviously made to only respond to your touch.”
“So what do I do with it?”
“See if it will fit on your head,” Mason suggests.
His idea sounds ridiculous but I try it anyway. I place the crown on top of my head but nothing happens. I don’t suddenly have some grand epiphany and the earth doesn’t quake beneath my feet. The only thing I notice is how lightweight it is.
Feeling slightly ridiculous standing there with a crown on my head I ask, “See anything? Any kind of divine inspiration hitting you? Anything at all?”
“Only that you would look beautiful as a queen,” Mason tells me, not joking at my expense, just making an observation.
I lower my eyes, no longer able to meet Mason’s gaze and pull the crown off my head, smoothing down my hair where it was perched.
“So, what do we do with it now?” I ask, chancing a glance in Mason’s direction.
“I need to speak with some fellow Watchers about it. Maybe together we can figure out what needs to be done next.”
“Do you want me to come with you?” I ask.
“No, not yet. I need to speak with them alone first and tell them what we know so far. When I know what our next move should be, I will come to you.”
“So, what, you just want me to go home for now?”
“I think that would be best. I’ll contact you later this afternoon. Maybe by then we’ll have a better understanding what the crown being here means.”
In no time at all, Mason has me and my car sitting in my drive way.
“Try to get some rest,” Mason tells me. “I’ll let you know what our next move is as soon as I know what it should be myself.”
Mason disappears.
I sit in my car staring at the crown of an archangel in my hands wondering what the hell I’ve gotten myself into.
Chapter 7When I finally decide to stop staring at the crown, I get out of my car and walk up to my porch.
Just as I’m about to open the door, I hear, “What’s that you have in your hand?”
Startled, I place my other hand on my plasma pistol and swiftly turn around to face Lucian/Lucifer
“You have seriously got to stop sneaking up on me like that,” I tell him irritably, my hand itching to pull my pistol from its holster.
He looks amused by my rebuke. “I’m sorry, Jessica. I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“How do you know my name?” I ask, distinctly remembering not telling the devil my first name the night before because I didn’t want to be on a first name basis with him even before I knew his true identity.
“I know everything there is to know about you,” he says, a twinkle of mischief in his eyes. “You didn’t think I wouldn’t do my research on your past, did you? Someone as special as you is worth getting to know all about.”
“I’m no one special.”
He smiles indulgently. “Yes, you are. You simply don’t realize it yet.”
“Do you know what’s different about me?” I ask, wondering if the devil might actually be helpful in solving the mystery I find myself in.
“No,” he admits reluctantly. I can see admitting it bothers him. “Not yet. But that’s certainly a clue.” He looks pointedly at the crown in my hands. “I’m sure Mason told you what it is.”
“Yes.” I say, not offering any more information.
“I wonder why it’s here,” he ponders and I instantly know he’s as clueless as the rest of us as to its purpose. “It really shouldn’t be you know.”
“Was there a reason you came back here…what should I call you? Lucian or Lucifer?”
“Lucian would be less conspicuous in case any of your neighbors see us talking But it’s up to you, either name is fine with me. Sadly there aren’t any children named Lucifer these days. And to answer your question, I had a yearning to see you again, Jessica.”
“Should I be scared you just said that?” I ask, not wanting Lucifer to yearn for my company in any way, shape or form.
“I’m not here to harm you,” he tells me and I believe him for some strange reason. He seems earnest in his statement.
“Then why are you here?” I ask.
“To be honest, I’m not completely sure why.” He smiles at me letting me see he’s as confused as anyone about his actions. “But there’s something familiar about you. Something I can’t quite put my finger on to tell you the truth. It’s made me rather determined to figure it out.”
“Does that mean I should expect more visits from you?”
“Most certainly.”
“And if I asked you to stay away from me would you do it?”
“I’m afraid I can’t,” he answers. “I’m inexplicably drawn to you, Jessica.”
“Uh, what kind of drawn exactly?”
“It’s not in a romantic sense if that’s what you’re worried about,” he chuckles. “Though,” Lucifer looks down at his body, “I can’t see why you would object to having this form in your bed. Women seem to like it quite well.”
“So do you change into whatever form you want?” I ask, since no one has explained that part to me.
“No but I can take over any human body of my choosing.”
“What happens to the person whose body you go into?”
“Their soul is pushed out and mine takes their place.”
“So you kill them.”
“Yes.” There’s no malice in his statement just fact.
“You still haven’t explained this yearning you say you feel to be with me,” I point out.
“I’m not sure I can explain it sufficiently. But rest assured it’s not sexual in nature, more friendly than anything.”
“Can the devil have friends?”
The smile on Lucifer’s face fades. “I had a best friend once. He and I did everything together until he sided with our father instead of me during the war. He’s the only real thing I miss from Heaven.”
“Who was he?”
Lucifer’s brow lowers and he looks at me like I should already know the answer to my own question. “Don’t all people in this part of the world go to church and learn these stories on Sunday morning?”
“I have a hard time believing in something I can’t see,” I tell him.
Lucifer cocks his head. “Are you telling me you don’t believe in God?”
“Honestly, I’m not sure what I believe anymore. You and Mason seem to think he’s real. I’ve just never had a good enough reason to believe in him.”
“Well, aren’t you just full of surprises?” Lucifer smiles again. “Far be it for me to try and convince you otherwise. He seems to have plenty of people fooled into believing he’s all knowing and benevolent. It’s refreshing to find someone who isn’t so gullible.”
Being praised by the devil doesn’t seem right, but I won’t lie and say I believe in or trust in God wholeheartedly. He might exist but that didn’t mean I had to agree with everything He did.
“So are you telling me you want to be my friend?” I ask.
“I haven’t quite decided,” Lucifer says. “But when I figure it out, I’ll let you know.”
Lucifer disappears.
When I walk into my house, my cell phone rings. It’s Mama Lynn.
“I saw you out my window talking to a handsome stranger,” she says me. “Is he someone you’re dating?”
“No!” I say a bit too emphatically. “He’s just someone I have to deal with in my new job, no one important.”
“Well, are you already home from work this early or do you have to go back?”
“I might have to go back later. Mason had to go talk to some people about some evidence we found today.”
“Then why don’t you come to my house? Faison and I are making the sugar cookies. It would be more fun if all three of us made them together. Then you girls can take me to the hospital to see Uncle Dan.”
I cringe inwardly. With everything that happened since I made that promise to her, I had completely wiped it from my mind. “Ok, let me put something up first and I’ll be right down.”
I go to my bedroom and hide the crown underneath my pillow. I suddenly realize it’s not exactly Fort Knox but basically anywhere in the house is easily accessible if someone really wanted to steal it.
