The Watcher, page 25
part #1 of Fleur de Lis Series
“It's beautiful...I love it,” I said.
“I'll help you try it on,” she said, placing it around my back. I inserted my arms inside the sleeves. It was tailored perfectly to my body.
“Thanks,” I said, smiling.
“Come see in the mirror,” she said with excitement in her voice.
The jacket looked fantastic with my tight dark blue jeans. I had a dagger strapped to my right thigh, and I wore shiny black boots with heels. I closed the gold buttons concealing my green V-neck shirt.
“Now—that's a jacket fit for a Guardian,” she said.
I chuckled. “It does fit me well,” I said.
“Can I ask you a personal question?” I asked.
“Shoot,” she said, jumping on her bed. “Come sit with me.”
Her bed was so comfortable. “Is this a water bed?” I asked.
“Yes,” she chortled.
“Interesting, a Gothic room with a water bed.”
“This bed helps me with my dreams. It's soothing,” she said.
“I've never slept on a water bed before.”
“So, what were you going to ask me?”
Vivian's features were delicate, her nose slender, and her chocolate skin—luminous. She always smelled like Patchouli. I was getting to like that awful scent, or my nose was becoming sensitized to it.
“Who turned you?” I asked.
“Salazar did. In the year 711, the Muslim forces invaded Spain. I came from a large Roman Catholic family, mostly boys. We lived in Visigoth, the capital of Toledo. My father was a nobleman, who was an advisor for the Visigoth King Roderick. Thousands of soldiers fought for the King in The Battle of Guadalete. It was the beginning of the Islamic conquest of Hispania. My father and brothers lost their lives in the battle, and King Roderic was defeated. The Muslim Berbers won. The Visigothic survivors fled to the north part of Spain and by 718 the Muslims were in control of nearly the whole Iberian Peninsula.”
“I was one year old, my mother had died giving birth to me, and I was raised by my older sister, Brisa. She grabbed anything from our home that was valuable, and we moved north-east toward France. Twenty years later the Muslims attempted to move across the Pyrenees mountains, where we lived. It happened at midnight. They found us sleeping, and they brutally tortured us. Brisa did not survive the beating. I tried to fight back. I managed to kill one of them,” Vivian's said, and her eyes became glassy as she shuddered at the memory.
I've never seen Vivian look so vulnerable.
“I was about to get raped by these savages, and probably killed when Aaron saved me.”
“Aaron!” I said with furrowed brows.
“At first I thought he was an angel or that I was dreaming. He decapitated all the men that had hurt me. I was tied down to a table, naked and bruised. He approached me, giving me a memory of my family when all was normal, and I was one year old. My sister Brisa was cooking dinner and my father was holding me in his arms. I saw my four brothers sitting around the dining table, laughing. They were so handsome, Skye,” she said and smiled with watery eyes. “Aaron found a memory in my mind that I had forgotten.” She wiped two tears that came down her face.
“Aaron said, 'No one will ever hurt you again. Your family can live on through your memories.' He then untied me, covered my body, and carried me to a horse carriage.”
“What was Aaron doing there?”
“He was with King Durand. They had defeated the Muslims with Frankish Catholic Martel in the Battle of Tours. They stopped them from invading France, and they brought me back to Salazar's home. It was Aaron who healed me and comforted me. He didn't leave my side until he returned back to France. He also convinced Salazar that he should turn me.”
“What did he say to him?”
“He told Salazar, 'She has a warrior spirit and that she deserves her revenge against the men who killed her family.' I was turned a year later, and the rest is history.”
“How ironic is that.”
“Extremely ironic. The vamp I despise the most, saved my life and was a good friend. He also showed me how to use this whip.”
“Were you ever intimate with him?”
“No. I cared for him like a brother. He is not the same as he was. Trying to survive without an Elder for so many years has given him a taste for blood—for murder. He has killed many women in unfathomable ways, and he has killed many of my friends.”
“And fifty years ago, he left you in that valley to die.”
“I don't know why he didn't just kill me. I think he still had feelings for me and wanted to give me a chance to survive. Patrick Connelly was with him. He was very upset at Aaron for leaving me in the sun, he wanted to kill me, but Aaron threatened to destroy him if he laid one finger on me.” Vivian breathed in heavy and let out her breath slowly. “I did do something stupid.”
“What?”
She hesitated to tell me. “I was with Patrick Connelly before this war began.”
“Really,” I said, deepening my voice. “Oh, my.”
“I had no idea he was a murderer. He was so infatuated with me. He loved my eyes and the color of my skin. He followed me like a lost puppy whenever he visited Spain. I dated him for a year,” she said with a repulsive look.
“So, it was you, who started his infatuation with dark-skinned women and light eyes.”
“I am ashamed to say it, but yes, and he still wanted to kill me,” she grumbled.
“He's twisted,” I said. “Why did you break up?”
“I didn't get to see him often. He lived in France and would come visit me every few months. I got bored and ended it. He has hated me since.”
“Is a good thing you ended it...he's crazy.”
“I will never hesitate to kill Aaron or Patrick. And the only way to kill Patrick is to set a bomb up his ass.”
“It's that difficult to kill him?”
“He heals quickly and is as strong as Mikael. Remember the footage of the sweet sixteen party?”
“Yes.”
“Well, he can do that to a room of vampires,” she said. “Aaron keeps him a short leash to stop him from getting everyone caught.”
Vivian saw the fear in my eyes. “Don't worry, Skye. I will protect you.”
I nodded my head and smiled broadly.
“I am sorry for your family and your friends,” I said.
“I am sorry too,” she said. “But let's move on to better things.”
“Okay.”
“I saw Aaron in a dream a few years ago. I was fighting him, and I managed to scar his face with my whip.”
“What else happened in the dream? Where were you?” I asked.
“It looked like China. All I saw—was me scarring him, in the daylight. I can't wait for that dream to come to pass.”
“Can I see your whip?” I asked.
“Just be careful it has small blades that extend when you open it,” she said, handing me her whip.
The whip was heavier than I thought, and the blades were very sharp. “Do you ever get cut from these blades?”
“Never. I am an expert with the whip. Maybe one day, I can show you how to use it.”
“I would like that.”
“I have something to say to you. Something important that you need to keep a secret and never tell anyone,” she whispered.
I could tell something was eating her up inside. “I promise.”
“I had a dream of you—last night.”
“You did...tell me, please,” I said with nervousness in my voice.
“You could never tell Zachary.”
“I won't, but I hope he is not listening to us right now.”
“I doubt it. My room is too far away from him and there are many vampires roaming the mansion to distract him from our voices,” she said.
“Okay, then you can tell me.”
“You were a vampire.”
“Are you serious?” I said, my eyes widened in shock.
“Your hair was brown, your right eye was glowing green, and your left eye was yellow.”
“Do you know when this will happen?”
“I don't know, Skye. I cannot tell when my dreams will come true. It can take days, months or years, but I know it will happen.”
I thought about what Salazar said, about fate. It would have to be a choice that I make, and I would need to be careful with every decision that I make from now on.
“Thanks, for telling me.”
“That's not all.”
“Does something happen to me?” I asked with fear.
“No, Skye. You are safe, but someone is with you.”
“Who, Zachary—my brother?”
“I did not see Zachary or your brother.”
“Then who did you see?”
“I saw you in bed with Gabriel.”
My mouth opened wide, and I started to breath heavy. “It can't be...I love...I love Zachary.”
“I know you do. That is why I am telling you to keep it a secret.”
“I will never tell a soul,” I said and looked down at the open red box on the bed. “What was I doing with Gabriel?”
“Both of you were lying down—with clothes on. I saw him caressing your face, you had sadness in your eyes, but you were also happy to be with him. He seemed to be comforting you. There were no words spoken.”
“So, he was consoling me...and you don't know why?”
“I don't —I am sorry. It was a short dream.”
“I can change this future, Vivian. There must be a way. I don't want to be a vampire.”
“Maybe you can. If anyone can—it's you.”
“And I will, that I assure you.”
“And I will help you any way I can.”
“Thank you, Vivian. It means a lot that you told me.”
“What are best friends for?”
My mind wandered—thinking about what will happen to Zachary and me. Why I was sad in her dream, and where was my brother? Would he be a vampire as well?
I decided to stop worrying. I thought of God and trusted him with the little faith I had, that he was with me and in control of my life.
“Do you have any pictures you can show me?” I asked, changing the subject and focusing on getting to know Vivian better.
“Oh, do I have pictures!” she said, dashing to her closet with excitement. “I have photos of Zachary in the 80s. He loved that era. Pink was his favorite color.”
“I can't picture Zachary wearing pink,” I said with a laugh.
“He had a mullet and wore turquoise,” she said, placing a photo album in front of me.
“I have got to see this,” I said, opening the album.
I could not stop laughing, and Vivian giggled. Zachary looked like a yuppie with a mullet.
“He looks like Don Johnson in Miami Vice.”
“He was going through some strange faze and always listened to the most depressing music, The Smiths, and The Cure.”
“Oh my...look at John,” I gasped.
He looked Gothic and wore black eyeliner. His hair was spiked, buzzed on the sides, and long in the back.
“John was a punk rocker and listened to hardcore rock.”
“Thank God, the eighties are over,” I said and chuckled.
I turned the page and laughed harder. “You look like a black Molly Ringwald.”
“That's what I was aiming for. Pretty in Pink was my favorite movie,” she said with a laugh.
“Oh, these pictures are classic...don't ever get rid of them,” I said.
“You can have one,” she said, peeling back the plastic cover on one of the pages.
She gave me a photo of Zachary, John and her, posing in front of a Monument.
“That was taken in 1986, in front of the Columbus Monument—in Las Ramblas.”
“Thanks.”
“You are welcome,” she said. We both smiled at each other. “Now, let me show you an album of us in the 70s. I had a gigantic afro.”
“Bring it on,” I said and laughed.
Chapter 14
Las Ramblas
It's been quiet in Barcelona. I have spent most of my time sparring, learning how to use Vivian's whip. It was a lot harder than I thought it would be. The blades sliced me up good, leaving pink marks on my arms and legs. I hope the marks clear up soon.
“What are you eating?” Charlie asked Christian, entering the kitchen.
My brother was stuffing his face with a peanut butter sandwich, stuffed with jalapeno peppers. He was drinking a green tea latte and using a Twizzler as a straw. His hair was set high, and he wore his favorite khaki jacket that matched his sneakers. His sky-blue shirt was fitted, and his jeans were vintage.
“Only real men can eat this...you wouldn't be able to handle it,” Christian responded.
The Gothic kitchen was beautifully designed with all black granite. My brother and I were sitting on high benches next to an island set in the middle.
“You are twisted,” Charlie said.
Zachary chuckled, and Vivian shook her head, staring at Christian. They sat next to a gold table that faced a large window, and they drank blood from crystal wine glasses. They both had on dark Guardian gear. Vivian had on a fitted, black, steampunk jacket that concealed her weapons, and Zachary had on a black pea-coat that was made of soft leather.
“Do you mind? I spent most of the day sparring with my sister, and I just want to eat my dinner in peace,” Christian complained.
“Sorry,” Charlie said, then he grabbed the other half of Christian's sandwich and took a bite.
I pushed my hair back into a ponytail. I was grateful that Vivian assisted me in dyeing my roots tonight. My hair was still damp from the shower.
“I wouldn't do that if I were you,” I said.
“Holy...sh..!” Charlie gasped and ran to the refrigerator.
He opened up the milk carton and started gulping it. Some of the milk dripped down his chin, leather jacket, blue jeans, and motorcycle boots.
“I told you,” I said.
“Pussy,” Christian said.
Zachary was laughing hysterically.
“Who's a pussy?” Hazel asked, walking in, and staring at Charlie, who was panting.
“Italian stallion—over here,” Christian said, in a Brooklyn accent.
Hazel smiled and sat down next to Christian. She always looked elegant in her clothes. Her hair was twisted up, and she wore a white tapered collar shirt with grey slacks and grey boots.
“Fernan said, that Clara has gained consciousness,” Hazel said and took a sip from Christian's latte. She made a funny squinting face.
“That's excellent, and when are they coming home?” Christian asked.
“Enrique is in Iceland with the rest of the Guardians. They will all be coming back in a few days. Clara needs to finish healing,” Hazel said.
“How's Kemen?” Vivian asked.
“He's recovered, and I just saw Paul. It took him three days to completely heal from the gunshot wound in his chest. Rachael has perfect aim,” Hazel said.
“I regret—teaching her how to shoot,” Zachary said.
“So, it's your fault Paul got shot,” Christian said.
Zachary gave Christian a hard look.
“Why don't we take a stroll in Las Ramblas and give Christian and Skye a break. They must be bored trapped in this mansion,” Hazel said.
“I would love to get some fresh air,” I said, rising from my seat.
I inserted my arms inside the sleeves of my black leather jacket.
“Me too,” Christian said and placed his empty plate in the sink.
“Sounds like a good idea. I will let John and Salazar know we are leaving,” he said,and begun to text them.
“Do you have weapons on you?” Vivian asked us.
I opened up my jacket and showed her two daggers that were strapped inside. Christian showed his black handgun inside the holster of his jacket and a dagger.
“We got this,” Christian said.
“Stay close by—don't wander off,” Vivian said.
“No problem,” I said.
Zachary checked his phone. “We can go,” he said, putting on his Fendi sunglasses.
“How could you eat that shit?” Charlie asked Christian as we exited the kitchen.
We entered a hallway with ribbed vaults made of stone. A beautiful rose window was above a richly carved door. Zachary opened it, and we passed through the front courtyard of the mansion. It had a tall fountain of an angel, standing on a pedestal. The mansion was enclosed by a high stone wall and two spires at each corner. Over the gated entrance door was a vertically shaped tympanum with sculpted religious imagery.
“Open,” Zachary said, looking up at a spire.
The gate unlatched on the side and the door opened toward us. The place was heavily secured, and Guardians also guarded the outside property. They walked around with their long black jackets that concealed weapons, and some sat on benches, reading literature, looking like pedestrians. Their eyes lightly glowed when we passed them by.
We walked on narrow winding streets that created a labyrinth in the Gothic Quarter. I admired many of the ancient buildings that dated from the medieval times. There were modern buildings standing next to old ones. The architecture was outstanding, and the streets were quite peaceful.
“This used to be the Roman village and has some remnants of its eminent past,” Hazel said.
Christian looked up and around, snapping pictures from his phone camera. We passed many squares, where people relaxed and enjoyed their surroundings. Musicians played music on the corner streets and artist sold paintings in stalls. We stopped to admire the Barcelona Cathedral. It's marvelous cloister and central courtyard was surrounded by Gothic portico. It was breathtaking.
Zachary held my hand and caressed it with his thumb. “Beautiful—isn't it?” he asked.
“Yes, it is” I sighed.
The streets led us to a cobbled stone lane that traveled toward the harbor. It had colorful markets that spilled into the side streets with flower stalls, and Kiosks that sold handmade candles, ice cream, and chocolate. It was a lively place, filled with tourists and locals. It reminded me of Times Square in New York, minus the skyscrapers and blinding lights.
