Oblivion (The Watcher Chronicles #3), page 2
When the doors of the elevator open, we find ourselves in an antechamber with one set of black double doors embossed with a silver ‘W’ and ‘A’ directly across from us. Two female Watcher agents, both stunningly beautiful, are stationed on either side of the door.
When we walk up to them, one of them presses her hand on a scanner embedded in the wall and I hear the lock in the doors disengage. One of the doors automatically swings inward.
Albert sweeps his hand in front of him indicating we should walk into the room.
“He only wants to speak with the two of you,” Albert tells us.
I squeeze Mason’s hand even tighter and we walk into Malcolm’s lair together.
The room is dark except for the glow from the fire in the giant stone fireplace in the living room area. The fireplace is so large you could fit a cow whole on a spit inside it. As we stand on the polished dark wood floor of the entrance, my eyes are drawn to the glass wall in the room and I realize this one room is as big as my house. I see the silhouette of a tall, muscular man standing in front of the glass wall and know it must be Malcolm. He’s looking out over the city he controls with his hands clasped loosely behind him. He’s shirtless with his long black hair covering most of his bare back. He only seems to be wearing a pair of red silk pajama bottoms.
“We’ve never had a Watcher agent come through the Tear before,” he says, not bothering to look our way as he addresses us.
“First time for everything, I guess,” I reply.
Malcolm slowly turns around. His face is hidden in the shadows so I’m unable to see his expression. He stares at us for what seems like forever before finally walking in our direction with an unhurried gate. When he reaches us, his gaze remains steady on Mason. Unlike the Malcolm on our Earth, this Malcolm’s blue Watcher aura is tainted with a tinge of black, like its corrupted.
“Odd to see you again, Samyaza,” Malcolm says to Mason, a look of confusion on his face. “You should be dead.”
Chapter 2
“Dead?” Mason questions. “Why would I be dead?”
“You died in the war against Lucifer in my reality,” Malcolm reveals.
“The war in Heaven?” I ask, needing clarification on which battle with Lucifer he’s talking about.
“Yes,” Malcolm confirms, staring openly at Mason’s scar. “Why did the old bastard do that to your face? What sin did He think you committed to deserve the mark of His wrath?”
“I did nothing to stop the Watchers under my command from taking human wives and having children with them. This is my reminder of that failure.”
“You commanded the Watchers on your Earth?”
“Yes.”
Malcolm snorts derisively. “Knowing you I doubt you led your Watchers to take the Earth over when the Tear appeared.”
“No, I didn’t.”
“Too bad.” Malcolm smiles wickedly. “It’s been a lot of fun so far.”
“Our father asked us to find a way to seal the Tear, not control the humans.”
“Must be nice to have Him talk to you directly,” Malcolm says. “He’s pretty much abandoned us on this Earth.”
“Why would He do that?” Mason asks.
“Probably because almost all of us follow Lucifer now.”
“Why?” I ask, wanting to understand what went wrong here to make the Watchers willingly follow Lucifer.
My question brings Malcolm’s full attention to me, and I immediately wish I had kept my big mouth shut. Malcolm’s eyes rake my body in one long sweep. A lascivious smiles creep onto his face. It doesn’t take a genius to know what he’s imagining us doing together in his mind.
“Agent Riley, isn’t it?” Malcolm asks, his tone of voice becoming more of a murmur as he addresses me.
“Yes.”
“I have a very important question for you, agent. How does the agency on your Earth usually handle the child of a Watcher if they travel to your reality?”
“Why do you ask?” I question instead of answering.
“Just answer the damn question!” Malcolm roars, a glint of madness entering in his eyes.
“I guess it would depend on whether they were in their human form or werewolf form,” I reply cautiously, knowing this conversation could easily head into a downward spiral rather quickly if I’m not careful.
“And if they were in their werewolf form?”
“I would imagine if they started to attack people they would be shot.”
Malcolm grimaces slightly at my answer.
“Why are you asking Jess these questions?” Mason says. “What’s happened?”
Malcolm closes his eyes and runs both of his hands through his hair, looking haggard all of a sudden.
“My son went through the Tear tonight,” Malcolm tells us.
All at once I feel frightened and excited. If Malcolm’s son was the werewolf who took Faison’s place, I fear what he will do to me once he learns that I killed him. But, if it was Malcolm’s son, then I have a lead on where Faison is now.
“Did someone from our world take his place?” I ask cautiously.
Malcolm opens his eyes and looks at me.
“That’s usually the way it works, isn’t it?” He asks sarcastically.
“Yes, of course it is. Would you happen to know where that person is now?”
“Why are you so interested?”
I shrug, trying to act nonchalant. “We were told some Watchers were playing Bait in the park with their children. I was just wondering if your son was one of them. If he was, the human from our world probably didn’t live long if your son was grouped with the other Watcher children.”
“I’ve never allowed Sebastian to play in those games. He’s never been allowed to taste human flesh.”
“You’ve protected him all this time?” Mason asks, surprise in his voice.
Malcolm looks at Mason. “I didn’t want him to lose his soul like I did. I wanted him to have a chance of reaching Heaven one day. I just hope he didn’t attack someone when he traveled to your world. And if he did, I hope he was killed before he took a human life.”
I feel torn. I’m fairly certain now Malcolm’s son was the werewolf I killed. But how do I tell a grieving father that news and not lose my head in the process?
“So where is the traveler who took his place?” I ask.
Malcolm narrows his eyes on me and I know he suspects something is out of place.
“Why so curious?” He asks. “Odds are you don’t even know them.”
“They’re probably scared,” I answer. “They might like to be with others from their own reality. I’m trained to take care of travelers. I might be of use.”
“As far as I know, the girl was taken to the Watcher station near my son’s home.”
“And where is that?”
“Again,” Malcolm says, crossing his arms over the large expanse of his chest spreading his legs in a defensive stance, “why so curious?”
“We just want to know if we can help this girl,” Mason replies, trying to divert Malcolm’s attention away from me.
But Malcolm isn’t stupid, unfortunately.
“What aren’t you telling me Samyaza? Why is this girl so important to the two of you?” Malcolm’s eyes wander from my face to the sword hilt peeking out from behind my back. “That sword. Pull it out so I can see it more clearly.”
“Why?” I ask.
“Don’t question me and just do as you’re told!”
I feel the bracelet JoJo and Chandler made for me become warm and I know Malcolm is reaching a point where he’s becoming a danger to me. Not wanting to anger him further, I reach behind my back and pull the sword from its sheath.
As the blade leaves the scabbard, it instantly begins to blaze, the flames flicker along its edge chasing away the hopelessness of the Earth we’re in. I hold the sword in front of me with one hand, letting the point of the blade angle down towards the floor.
Malcolm’s eyes grow wide at the sight of my weapon.
“How did you get Jophiel’s sword?” He demands.
“It was a gift,” I tell him.
“A gift from whom?”
“God.”
Malcolm’s eyes darken. “You’re no ordinary Watcher agent. Who the hell are you?”
“Would you believe a messenger from God?”
Malcolm snorts. “And just what sort of message do you have for me?”
“That you need to change your ways before it’s too late.”
Malcolm stares at me like he didn’t understand a word I just said, and then he starts to laugh like what I said is the funniest thing he’s heard in the last century.
On instinct, I reach out and touch Malcolm on the arm with my free hand which instantly makes him stop laughing.
The bracelet allows me to feel his pain. The pain of losing his one and only child is ripping his heart to shreds. The uncertainty of not knowing whether or not his son is alive or dead is slowly killing him like poison in his bloodstream. I’m not even sure how he’s standing and talking considering the amount of grief he feels. It shows me Malcolm has a strength I can admire, even if this version of him has been corrupted by working for Lucifer.
Yet, his soul isn’t completely lost. There’s a small spark of hope that his father will forgive his sins one day. But that hope is slowly dying. He feels like his soul is almost to the point where it will be unredeemable.
Malcolm snatches his arm out of my hand.
“What the hell are you doing?”
“Don’t give up hope,” I beg him. “And stop being Lucifer’s henchman. It’s killing your soul.”
“You’re rather impertinent for a human,” Malcolm says, eyeing me like I’m a curiosity.
“So I’ve been told.”
“You still haven’t answered my question,” Malcolm says tersely. “Why are you so interested in this girl from your Earth?”
I look over at Mason because I know he isn’t going to like what I’m about to do. Mason gives an imperceptible shake of his head warning me not to tell Malcolm the truth.
But I know I have to tell Malcolm what’s happened to his son. It might be one of the stupidest things I’ve ever done in my life but I can’t, in good conscience, let him live with his doubt.
“She’s important to me because she’s my sister,” I say.
Malcolm grabs the tops of my arms with both of his large hands and squeezes. I see Mason about to pounce on Malcolm and I furiously shake my head at him. Reluctantly he stops, trusting me to know what I am doing.
“What happened to my son?” Malcolm demands, his face so close to mine I can feel his warm breath on my face.
“He didn’t give me any choice,” I say, wanting to make sure Malcolm understands why I did what I did. “I had to kill him to protect myself.”
Malcolm squeezes my arms so tightly I fear he might pinch them off. Suddenly, he pushes me away from him, but I know he didn’t use his full strength because my back doesn’t break when I slam against the far wall.
Instantly, Mason is at my side helping me get back on my feet.
“Are you all right?” He asks worriedly, looking me up and down to check for injuries.
“I’m fine,” I say, kneeling to the floor for a moment to fetch my sword.
“Is that what you used?” Malcolm asks, staring at the flaming sword in my hand.
“Yes. He lunged at me and impaled himself on its blade.” I say, not wanting to elaborate any further on the death of Malcolm’s son.
Malcolm closes his eyes and is silent for a long while before I see a twin trail of tears course from the corners of his eyes and down the sides of his face.
“So he didn’t bite you?” Malcolm questions, his eyes still closed, voice quavering slightly. “He never tasted your blood?”
“No. He didn’t taste human blood. And, if it’s any consolation, I don’t think he suffered. He died instantly.”
Malcolm nods that he heard my words but doesn’t make a reply.
I look up at Mason for reassurance that I made the right decision in telling Malcolm about his son’s fate. Mason caresses the side of my face and nods, silently telling me that against his better judgment I did the right thing.
“Thank you,” Malcolm whispers. “Thank you for killing him before he lost his soul.”
Malcolm suddenly opens his eyes wide like someone just hit him in the gut.
“You need to leave. He’s coming.”
“Who’s coming?” Mason asks.
“Lucifer. I told him I would interrogate you for information about your world. If he finds you here Samyaza, he will kill you without blinking an eye, and I don’t have to tell you what he will do to her.”
“Where is my sister?” I demand, not wanting to leave before I have the information I need.
“Run!” Malcolm shouts.
Mason phases us to the sidewalk outside the building.
“Damn it!” I scream at Mason. “Why did you do that? He’s the only one who knows where Faison is!”
The people passing by us openly gape at me. I’m not sure if it’s the flaming sword I’m holding or my public display of annoyance with Mason that’s drawing their attention, probably a little of both.
“Jess, we’ve got to go,” Mason says urgently, grabbing me by the arm and pulling me down the sidewalk to get lost in the crowd of people around us.
“No, we have to go back!” I say stubbornly, ripping my arm out of his hold and turning around, determined to get the information I need from Malcolm.
Mason grabs me around the waist and pulls my back roughly against his chest.
“Jess, listen to me,” he whispers desperately in my ear. “Now is not the time. Lucifer will kill me and torture you. We will get the information another way.”
I know in my heart Mason’s right, but I’m hard-headed and leaving the one person who knows where Faison is goes against every fiber in my being. I take in a deep breath trying to let Mason’s reasoning clear my head.
My body relaxes and Mason lets me go because he knows I won’t try to run back into the building. My sword loses its flame just as I lose my will to fight. I turn around to face Mason while sheathing my sword.
“What do we do now?” I ask.
Unfortunately, the answer to that question ends up not being our decision.
A black van comes to a screeching halt beside the sidewalk were standing on. Two men dressed in black with ski masks covering their faces jump out and grab me. Before Mason can attack them, a man I recognize phases in beside Mason, grabs his arm and phases him away.
The two hooded men pull me towards the van easily because they are way stronger than I am. But, that’s no surprise to me since I see the blue auras surrounding them marking them as Watchers. Unceremoniously, they dump a struggling me inside the van, jump in and close the sliding door behind them.
“Go!” The one crouched directly in front of me yells to the driver.
The van’s wheels squeal as the driver hits the accelerator and we’re off like a shot down the street.
I don’t know what the hell is happening but I do know one thing.
Brand has Mason.
Chapter 3
Before I know it, one of the men in ski masks pulls my plasma pistol out of its holster on my thigh. The other reaches towards me like he’s going to try to pull my sword out of its sheath but I kick him in the groin before he has a chance. With a howl of pain, he doubles over clutching his family jewels.
I reach back and pull out my sword swinging it towards the second man which makes him rethink lunging at me.
“Who the hell are you people and where has Brand taken Mason?” I demand.
The second man holds up his hands like he surrenders. “Look, all we want to do is talk to you.”
“So that’s why you’re trying to disarm me and play the divide and conquer routine? It doesn’t seem like all you want to do is talk,” I counter.
“Mind if I take the mask off?” The man asks.
“Sure.”
When the man peels off his mask, I instantly jab the point of my blade smack dab in the middle of his throat.
It’s Baruch.
“I take it from your reaction to me that you and I don’t have a particularly good relationship on your Earth.”
“I helped kill you,” I answer.
Baruch’s eyes widen in surprise. “Well, I can’t say I saw that answer coming. Was I that bad there?”
“Bad’s a relative term. More like desperate,” I answer.
“I assure you that you’re safe with this version of me. I’m not sure why my counterpart on your Earth did the things he did to deserve death at your hands but please keep in mind that I am not him.”
“Who are you then? Who do you work for because the Baruch I killed worked with Lucifer?”
“I work against Lucifer here, can’t stand the slimy S.O.B. to tell you the truth. That’s why I’m part of the resistance.”
“Resistance?”
“We’re a faction of Watchers who are trying to help the humans take their world back.”
“So not all of the Watchers here are working for Lucifer?”
“No. Most do but there are about forty of us who don’t.”
The man I kicked is finally able to sit up straight, though he’s still holding onto his groin for dear life and seems to be having trouble breathing correctly.
“You might be able to breathe easier if you take that mask off,” I tell him.
The man keeps one hand on his bruised ego and uses the other one to strip his mask off.
I instantly feel guilty.
“Sorry Isaiah,” I say lowering my sword from Baruch’s throat.
“I take it we know each other in your reality?” Isaiah asks with a grimace.
“Yes,” I say, sheathing my sword. “You were my boss when I first became part of the Watcher Agency. We’re friends now.”
If Baruch is with both Isaiah and Brand, I have to assume he’s ok. Plus, he doesn’t have a corrupted blue aura like Malcolm’s. Maybe whatever happened in our world to make him evil didn’t affect him in this reality. Either way, I know Isaiah. In any reality, he would be someone who remained a true friend.
