by Eva Brandt
Eva Brandt
A Merciless Year One
Watcher Academy 1
Copyright © 2020 by Eva Brandt
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise without written permission from the publisher. It is illegal to copy this book, post it to a website, or distribute it by any other means without permission.
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
Eva Brandt has no responsibility for the persistence or accuracy of URLs for external or third-party Internet Websites referred to in this publication and does not guarantee that any content on such Websites is, or will remain, accurate or appropriate.
Designations used by companies to distinguish their products are often claimed as trademarks. All brand names and product names used in this book and on its cover are trade names, service marks, trademarks and registered trademarks of their respective owners. The publishers and the book are not associated with any product or vendor mentioned in this book. None of the companies referenced within the book have endorsed the book.
Cover art is for illustrative purposes only. Cover by Fantasia Cover Designs.
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Contents
A Merciless Year One
Index
A Note from the Author
Prologue
Deal with the Reaper
Truth and Duty
Memories of Darkness
Lessons of Life and Death
Grim Revelations
Paradox
Ashes of the Past
Healing
City of Fire
Fear and Forgiveness
Distrust
Refuge
Creature of Deception
Damned Souls
The Power of Death
Closure
Epilogue
Coming Soon
Also by Eva Brandt
About the Author
A Merciless Year One
Everyone knows the story of Lucifer’s fall, the prideful angel who defied God and was punished for it. But few people remember the angels who fell with him. Satan might have found redemption, but what of his Watchers?
My name is Delilah and I am dead.
It’s a recent state of affairs. Until a few months ago, I had a life, family, friends. And then, The Brightest Star shone above me, too bright, too blinding, and my whole world crumbled.
I drowned in the ocean of a demon’s happiness and no one seemed to care.
Until, finally, someone does. When the avatar of death extends his hand and offers me a chance to save my loved ones, it seems too good to be true.
You can become an angel, he tells me.
You can still save them, he tells me.
You can earn your wings and watch over them, forever, he tells me, and the thought is a comfort and a burden.
But there’s a catch. To embrace the Grim Reaper’s offer, I have to attend the new Watcher Academy, where Lucifer’s minions have come together to start over—and where I have to spend time with them.
Sariel. Azazel. Yeqon. Three of Lucifer’s closest confidants, who chose him over the Heavens, and who make it their business to make my life as difficult as possible. Fallen angels, who do everything in their power to lead my soul into damnation.
I’m expected to forgive and forget, but turning the other cheek has never been my style. I’m expected to become an angel, but Watcher Academy isn’t very angelic at all. How can I forgive the people who killed my family and were never punished? And how can I forgive myself for what Sariel, Azazel, and Yeqon make me feel?
A Merciless Year One is a 70k words reverse harem novel. Proceed with caution. There will be dark content ahead. Our Watchers might be fallen angels, but there’s nothing angelic about this romance. It contains steamy scenes between the heroine and several heroes, as well as m/m content. For maximum enjoyment, the author recommends to read the Academy of the Devil first, as characters from the original series show up in this book.
Index
In Watcher Academy, I used (and modified) several concepts. Here is a small guideline for what you might find inside.
Angelic entities of note - ranks of angels
Seraphim - highest order of the Hierarchy of Angels, each with six wings.
Cherubim - powerful and majestic angelic creatures who surround God’s throne, mentioned as the guardians of The Garden of Eden after Adam and Eve’s expulsion
Thrones - third ranking order of angels, described as having four wings and four faces.
Dominions - the fourth ranking order of angels, described as wearing long gowns and carrying golden scepters or orbs
Virtues - fifth ranking order of angels, the angels of miracles, encouragement, and blessings
Powers - sixth ranking order of angels, guardians against the attacks of the demons
Principalities - seventh ranking order of angels, guardians over the nations and the leaders of the world
Archangels - eighth ranking order of angels. Archangel Michael is believed to be the highest-ranking warring angel in God’s heavenly host.
Guardian Angels - last order of angels, meant to guard those who will inherit salvation.
Sources seem unable to agree on what rank Lucifer had before his fall. He’s been described as a cherub, but also an archangel. I chose to make him a combination between a cherubim and a throne.
A Note from the Author
Thank you for picking up Watcher Academy. As mentioned in the blurb, this series is a spin-off/sequel of Academy of the Devil, so if you haven’t read that one, you’ll probably have trouble understanding what is going on. It follows directly after the epilogue available only in the boxset. Check it out here.
Please be advised that, like Academy of the Devil, this series will contain dark content, including graphic violence, gore, mental heath issues, possibly suicidal ideation. No rape, but there will be some kinky sexual content involving tentacles.
Also, if you’re sensitive about religious issues, turn back now. This series takes huge liberties with religious matters and you may feel uncomfortable with my interpretation.
Prologue
They say your whole life flashes before your eyes when you die.
I’m not sure who came up with this idea—who the famous ‘they’ are—but I do know this. They’re full of shit.
When you die, reminiscing about your past couldn’t be further from your mind. Your body seizes and twists. Your muscles scream in protest, your mind fixated on one concept and one concept alone. “No, this can’t be happening to me.”
You taste your own blood and desperation in your mouth. The screams of your loved ones fill your ears. The scent of tears, loss, and decay assault your nostrils.
If any memories come back to you, they’re corrupted by sheer panic, by desperation and the need to breathe, just one more moment, to survive even when you’re well aware it’s impossible.
And then, when you finally let go, death is peaceful. Once the screams stop and you accept the silence, everything drifts away into a blank numbness.
That was how it was for me, at least. Maybe it’s different for others, for people who don’t have to carry the weight of the world and make suspiciously convenient deals with all-powerful deities. Who knows?
Of course, everything changed after that. Death is supposed to be unavo
idable, immutable. It doesn’t like to be thwarted. It always fights back.
But I’m getting ahead of myself. Let’s start from the beginning.
My name is Delilah St. John and once, I was human. Once, I had a life, a family, dreams. Now, the only thing I have left is grief, anger, and the hope that, at the very least, my loved ones will be able to go on without me.
And it all started with him. It was all his fault—that of Lucifer Morningstar.
Deal with the Reaper
“Lila, I’ve told you a million times. Use sunscreen, for God’s sake. It’s dangerous to be in the sun without it.”
Standing on the deck of our small yacht, my mother glared at me, bringing forth the full might of what I fondly liked to call Extreme Parental Disapproval (Karla St. John Edition). For the moment, she hadn’t used my full name, so I wasn’t in trouble, but I would be if I didn’t comply.
I didn’t feel I needed sunscreen, but I obeyed anyway. I shot her a sheepish smile and said, “I forgot. Sorry. But don’t worry so much. I’ll be fine.”
“You’re fine now, Lila,” she replied, “but God only knows what will happen in a few years. You can get skin cancer if you’re not careful.”
She passed me a small tube of sunscreen and I squirted some of the substance onto my tanned skin. Robbed of her chance to nag me, my mother fell awkwardly silent.
She still didn’t know how to handle me, how to approach the potential powder keg of my temper. Sometimes, I wanted to tell her that she should stop tiptoeing around me already, that I was perfectly capable of understanding and accepting our new situation. But on the other hand, my anger was part of the reason why my parents had decided to try again in their broken marriage.
“Are you still mad at us?” my mother finally asked. “Because of what happened?”
“I’m trying not to be,” I said. An excess of sunscreen slid onto my body as I squeezed the tube a little too tightly. “What you and Dad do with your lives is none of my business.”
“You know that’s not true, Lila. You’re our daughter. We want our best for our family. We’re just having some problems. That doesn’t mean we don’t love you.”
“You don’t need to tell me that, Mom. I’m not five. And I won’t keel over and die either if you guys get a divorce.”
The truth was that I’d have preferred permanent separation over the long, drawn-out agony of the past couple of years. To this day, I didn’t know who had cheated first, but I suspected it had been my mother because of some of the arguments I’d overheard. At one point, my father had found out, but instead of breaking up with her, he’d cheated back, and the whole thing had escalated into a childish, epic battle of who could cuckold the other person more dramatically.
They hadn’t stopped until I’d walked in on my mother being tag-teamed by our gardener and our cook. It pissed me off, because the cook had made the best cheesecake on the East Coast. I was now deprived of it because my mom couldn’t look for her entertainment elsewhere.
But pointing that out would’ve been insensitive and probably made me crave cheesecake more than I already did. So instead, I fell onto my usual strategy, pretending the problem wasn’t there. “Anyway, you’re trying to do better, right? So I have nothing to be angry about.”
“Right,” my mother said, a little weakly. “Of course.”
We’d exhausted this topic, just like I’d exhausted the tube of sunscreen. I wiped my hands of the leftover cream and reached for my e-book reader. “Do you need me for anything? I wanted to finish my book.”
My mother tried to hide her relief but failed. “No, it’s fine. Have fun, sweetie.”
As I watched her walk away and go below deck, a mix of anger and grief surged through me. It was stupid, but for some reason, every time we ended such a conversation, I had this strange feeling of finality. I felt as if I was living in a dream and I’d wake up, only to find my parents had abandoned me a long time ago, to build their own separate happy families.
I shook off my bout of self-pity. I was fine. We were fine. My parents were still together. We were on a fun, traditional vacation that would help them rebuild their relationship. Once we got home, everything would be perfect. Maybe we’d even find another cook, one who could make great cheesecake and keep his dick to himself.
It was a little silly to hope, but I hoped anyway, and the thought allowed me to drift back into the fantasy world of my novel.
It was a good book, and for a couple of hours, it distracted me from my problems. I only realized evening had fallen when I finished the final chapter and found a satisfying happy ending.
My fantasy romance-induced good mood dissolved into renewed apprehension. The deck was empty and it was so quiet. The full moon shone brightly in the sky, but the sight I would have normally deemed beautiful just sent a chill down my spine.
We went boating regularly, but we always returned to shore at night. My father was an excellent boater, but he was also very safety-conscious and didn’t want to take any chances with our well-being. When we were out at sea, anything could happen, so he tried to keep our trips short, but enjoyable.
Allowing my e-book reader to go into ‘sleep’ mode, I got up from my chaise-longue and headed inside. “Dad?” I called out. “Everything okay?”
Had we had an engine malfunction? I hadn’t heard or felt anything wrong, but I wasn’t known for my talents with machines.
I never received a reply. Just as I was about to go downstairs, to investigate the mystery, a bright light erupted in the distance, practically turning the night into day.
I stumbled back onto the deck, leaning against the banister to get a better look at the strange phenomenon. The light was coming from a good distance away, a few miles, at least, so I couldn’t distinguish the source. Had there been some kind of accident? If so, we had to report it.
The light pulsed rhythmically, like it had a heartbeat, a life of its own. If I reached out, if I extended my fingers, I could almost touch it.
I’d go warn my parents soon, in a minute. I just needed to look at the light, for a few seconds longer. Would it come to me if I asked?
The sky lit up, flames licking over the edges of the dark clouds. I didn’t think I’d seen anything so beautiful in my life.
The sound of my father’s familiar voice snapped me out of my trance. “Lila, what are you doing?” he asked as he rushed to my side. “Get down!”
I blinked back into awareness, realizing that I’d been standing on the deck frozen while a disaster had unfolded around me. The light hadn’t left the yacht or the sea untouched. The waves crashed angrily against our small vessel, so powerful that my dad had to hold me up to keep me from falling. He wrapped his arms around me and pulled me under the awning he often used to shield himself from the sun.
“Dad?” I asked, confused. “What’s going on?”
“I have no idea, but the engine isn’t working. I think there’s a storm coming or something like that. We need to get you out of here.”
Out of here? And where exactly was I supposed to go? We had life preservers, but when I looked at the burning sky, I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that they wouldn’t help us.
With a dose of distant hysteria, I thought that I should’ve used a little more sunscreen. It might have been useful if we had to fight the fire raining on us from the sky.
Before I could fall apart altogether, my mother manifested by our side, carrying a life preserver. “There you are. Let’s get this on, all right, Lila?”
I nodded, but couldn’t make myself move. I was having trouble processing our situation. What was this light? Where had the fire come from? And… Was that the sound of trumpets I could hear in the distance?
My head started to hurt and my vision went a little woozy. My father’s hold on me tightened. “Lila, breathe. Don’t worry. We’re here for you.”
I focused on him and his steady presence calmed me. My mother tried to help too. Her hands shook as she struggled to pull on my lif
e preserver. Still, she offered me a tremulous smile. “We’re going to be fine. We’ll make it out of this one too. You’ll see.”
I doubted that very much, but I didn’t say it. She didn’t believe her own words, but she was trying to stay strong, for my sake. I could do the same.
“You’re right,” I said. “Go ahead and put on your own life preservers. I can finish this.”
My mother looked like she wanted to protest, but I took the choice from her hands when I pulled away. “Lila—”
“You keep telling me to be more careful, right?” I cut her off. “So take your own advice and put the damn life preserver on.”
My parents complied—or at least, I thought they did. Everything happened so fast after that. A heavy blast echoed in the distance, so loud I thought I might lose my hearing. I didn’t, because the next thing I was aware of was the sound of my mother screaming and my father’s desperate cry, “No… God, no. God, please.”
I stole a look over my shoulder and every muscle in my body froze. I knew I should be trying to escape. But where could we possibly go, when a giant tidal wave was heading straight for us?
I didn’t get the chance to dwell on it for too long. The furious water swept over the deck, impossible to stop. Everything turned indistinct and chaotic as I was thrown off the yacht and into the angry ocean.
I was a good swimmer, but trying to fight the storm was an exercise in futility. The water dragged me down almost instantly. At first, I tried to struggle. I couldn’t die like this. This couldn’t be happening to me. I was only nineteen. I had a whole life ahead of me.
But I was only an insignificant speck of flesh, easily squashed by the overwhelming might of the ocean. My whole body started to scream for air, but there was no one who could hear the cry. My lungs were burning, but the water around me fed the flame instead of quenching it. My desperation and desire to live meant nothing.