Watchers of the Fallen (Second Death Book 1)

by Brian Rella

  She was floating on air over blackened soil and scorched earth, the thunderous heartbeat pounding in her ears. The enormous purple heart was before her. She felt safe and comforted next to the giant heart as it pulsed with a rhythmic beat.

  Life. “Nalsuu, give me life,” she said.

  Veins reached out like tentacles from the purple heart to her floating body. Mouths at the end of the veins opened and closed, dripping green blood that sizzled as it landed on the blackened earth beneath her floating body.

  The veins bit into her, and Jessie moaned, feeling pleasure and pain sink into her bruised and battered body. The lifeblood of her King flooded her body. Her breath caught, and she moaned passionately as Nalsuu’s blood mixed with hers and her body burned and tingled with its healing powers.

  Now, Jessie, you will go to the desert.

  “The desert,” she whispered.

  You shall bring me forth into your world. Your ascent to Queen of the Fallen has begun.

  “The desert…Queen of the Fallen…”

  Jessie opened her eyes. The black world and the giant heart were gone. She was flying among the clouds in Pasmet’s grasp. A wicked grin curled up her face.

  “Pasmet. We will go to the desert. Our work has just begun.”

  48

  FRANK

  October 21, 2015

  The Tomb of Pasmet, Illinois

  The world came painfully into focus as Frank forced his eyes open. His final attack on Jessie and her demons had drained him of almost all his energy. He’d had just enough left to cast a spell and shield himself from the collapsing cavern, and now he was weak and weary, unable to lift his head.

  He tried to pull himself up to a sitting position and a spike of pain shot through his side. He fell back on top of the rubble and lay there, panting, trying to remain conscious.

  The girl. Pasmet. Arraziel.

  The gravity of what had just occurred weighed on him as the images of the battle and the last few days passed before his eyes. He had to get up. He had to get moving. The girl had started a chain of events that put the world in grave danger. He had to do something.

  Finally, he managed to roll over to his right, biting back the nails of pain driving into his side, and pull himself up.

  The throbbing shifted throughout his body with every muscle he engaged. He felt for broken bones and was sure he had broken the arm on his left side and a couple of ribs. His ankle might also be broken.

  “Tarek,” he called out, but it sounded like someone else’s voice; someone outside of his body. “Tarek,” he wheezed again, a little louder.

  His eyes adjusted to the phosphorescent glow of the frozen lake. The cavern had caved in on top of them. He could not see Tarek anywhere.

  The girl was gone. There was no sign of Pasmet or Arraziel.

  The game has changed.

  The Watchers were dealing with something new. Something more powerful than they had expected. Or at least more powerful than he had expected. This was not some lost girl. There was a force behind her, manipulating her, guiding her, and setting off a chain of events that led to something. Tarek’s vision of his Last Breath spell was clear on that. The purple heart of darkness.

  He had to get Tarek and had to get out of here and back to New York.

  He crawled over the debris, thoughts streaming through his mind, fighting back the pain and the nausea as he searched for Tarek. On the other side of the fallen rock that was between him and the water, he found a body with no head and a pile of ash next to it.

  Frank teemed with rage and guilt. Tarek had given his life to help Frank defeat the girl. Frank had lived while Tarek had died—twice.

  His hand formed a fist and he pounded the rubble. I will avenge you, brother.

  Frank dragged himself back to the entrance to the underground lake at the back of the cave. It would be a long, slow climb back up to the top. He had to get a message to Brennan back in New York.

  He reached the stairs. Hunched over and in excruciating pain, and began the long climb back up to the outside.

  49

  JESSIE

  October 22, 2015

  The Arizona Desert

  Mist covered the gray earth. The ground shifted under her feet as she took a step forward. It was soft, like sand. It felt like she was walking on a cloud, but for the shifting sand under her feet. She knew she was on land…somewhere.

  The air was dry and dusty. When the wind blew, fine grains pelted her in the face and she covered her nose and squinted into the wind. The wind gusted and the sun sank low. The sky was streaked with scattered clouds, brushed with pastel purples and pinks. Clay-colored plateaus and buttes reached high and flat into the air against the mosaic sky.

  She heard the rhythmic cadence in her ears.

  Jessie turned, and in front of her the purple heart beat loudly, rhythmically. Its thudding shook the ground beneath her feet.

  She moved to the heart and embraced it, feeling it bump-bump bump-bump against her body. She closed her eyes and pressed herself into the moist, sticky flesh of the organ. Its beat soothed her.

  The form shifted in her arms. A man stood in its place, his black hair caught in the wind behind them. She felt relaxed in the man’s arms.

  A good man, she thought as she embraced him.

  They pressed into one another passionately.

  “Jessie,” she heard as he released her. His lips did not move, yet she heard him. His emerald-green eyes pierced her to her soul.

  He leaned in and she let his lips touch hers. She heard him say her name again.

  Jessie sat straight up in the dark, the image of the man and the kiss still firmly in her head as clear as if it had just happened. The man’s name came to her lips.

  “Nalsuu. My King,” she whispered in the dark. Her heart skipped a beat at the image of him.

  She rubbed her eyes, realizing she had no idea where she was.

  Behind her, she could hear the steady rhythm of Pasmet breathing somewhere in the dark. She moved to stand and the pain made her squeal and moan. She cast the spell of light. The room lit up with the soft glow from her ball of energy. She held it high in the air above her head and inspected her surroundings.

  She was in some kind of enormous cave. The air was cold and dry. The ground was sandy. She dug her toes in as she stepped forward toward an opening or window of some kind and felt the night’s chill.

  Where am I?

  The mouth of the place opened into the night sky. Stars twinkled above. She moved to the edge of the mouth and almost fell off the ledge.

  Looking down at her feet, she was atop a large plateau, high in the air. She could not see the bottom from where she stood, but as the night sky overcame the day, she could see the mountains silhouetted against the midnight-blue backdrop of twilight.

  Her stomach growled. She was ravenous. She touched her stomach and winced as her fingers ran across the wound. It was not as bad as before. She was healing.

  The heart. The blood of my King is in me, healing me.

  It all came flooding back to her — the battle with the men at the underground lake. Tarek. Liar. Evil man. Arraziel took care of him.

  The other man who attacked must have been another Watcher. They were after her, trying to kill her, just as Nalsuu had said. They were trying to stop her. Stop her from bringing change to the world. They will not stop us, my King. We will free you from the Realm of the Second Death and rule this world together.

  She sat on a rock just inside the mouth of the cave and stared out over the canopy of the night. The image of the heart, and his name passed through her mind over and over.

  One thing burned inside of her.

  She was tired of being a victim. She was tired of men trying to hurt her. She was going to do the hurting now. She and Arraziel and Pasmet and the rest of the darkness she was awakening.

  I will build His army. I will give birth to the darkness and chaos and we will rule this world. This world will bow to us…or be dest
royed.

  A new world order was coming, and she would be its queen. Of that, she was certain.

  50

  FRANK

  October 24, 2015

  New York, New York

  “You look like shit.”

  I feel like shit. He had cottonmouth and it hurt to breathe. He opened his eyes and the room came into focus.

  Green walls, the smell of industrial cleaner, the steady beep of a machine to his left. He recognized the voice.

  “Brennan. You know a priest shouldn’t be swearing like that,” he said. It hurt to smile.

  “God and I go way back, Frank. He forgives me my few transgressions.”

  “Well, good for you two. How bad am I?”

  “You’ll live. You have three broken ribs, a partially collapsed lung, and a broken arm. You’re a fast healer though, Frank. The rest is just superficial.”

  “Superficial. Easy for you to say.”

  “I suppose. I don’t know how you made it out of that cave on your own.”

  “Me neither, but here I am.”

  “Here you are.”

  There was a pause and Frank got the feeling Brennan was feeling him out, trying to decide whether to tell him something or not.

  “What is it?”

  “The girl, Jessie. She’s gone. Completely off the radar again. And she has Arraziel and Pasmet under her control.”

  “Tell me something I don’t know.”

  “Legion may be next.”

  “What?”

  “Still getting details, but the Legion book went missing a few days a go. I don’t know yet.”

  “This is getting out of hand,” Frank said.

  Brennan nodded. “We are on it. The Order is working with the world governments again, sharing information, like the old days. It will take some time. Most of the people in power these days are non-believers, but after Chicago, there was too much that was unexplainable for them to ignore us anymore. We’ve been too good at our jobs, Frank, and have kept the threats at bay for too long. Today’s leaders think we’re a bunch of cultists ringing the bell for the apocalypse and we should be rounded up and locked away somewhere.”

  “They need the reminder,” Frank said.

  Brennan shrugged. “The world has moved on. People don’t look to the stars or to the world around them for answers anymore. They stare at their damn screens all day and google their horoscopes. The old ways and laws have been swept under the rug and shrugged off as fairy-tales and legend. We are forgotten relics, Frank. But there are some coming around. It will take more time.”

  “We don’t have time.”

  Brennan paused again. Frank knew there was more, but he did not want to hear it.

  “Frank.”

  “What?”

  “The boy.”

  The Watcher Brennan had found at Church.

  “What about the boy? Did you meet with the mother?”

  “The boy is the real deal. He is one of us. And, Frank…” Brennan paused. “I’ve never seen someone so gifted. He’s only fourteen and he’s testing off the charts. He’s a natural.”

  A natural. Great.

  “Did you set up the meeting with him?”

  “Not yet. You need to heal. Then I have an idea.”

  “Idea?” Brennan’s ideas always involved putting Frank’s skin on the line. He had barely escaped with his life this time and was not looking to jump back in the fight immediately.

  “The boy is raw, Frank.” Brennan looked directly into his eyes and Frank could feel the intensity radiating off him like heat from a fire. “He needs training.”

  “So train him. We have schools,” Frank said. “Send him to the Highlands to get trained, like you and I were trained.” But Frank knew that was not what Brennan was getting at. He knew what was coming next.

  “You remember how I trained you? After Glak'xhohr attacked, I took you into the field with us. You finished your training in the field with me.”

  How could I forget. “Yeah. I remember. I remember I lost a father, a brother, and a lot of good friends.”

  “We’ve all lost people, Frank. That’s why we fight. Imagine how many we’ve saved? We did not choose this. It chose us,” Brennan pleaded. “Look, Frank, we need this kid. There is too much at stake and the pieces are moving around the board too quickly. The boy could be useful and we need him.”

  Useful.

  Frank did not like the way Brennan was talking about the boy, as if he were a pawn in a grand game of chess. The boy’s life was at stake. Treating people as useful and expendable did not sit well with Frank at all.

  Frank turned away and looked at the wall.

  “He’s just a kid and I won’t fuck him up. I don’t want the responsibility. Someone else can do it.”

  “He doesn’t have a choice, Frank, and there is no one else better to train him than you.”

  Frank turned and glared at the priest. “He doesn’t, huh? Well maybe he does. Maybe I do, too! I am sick of this shit, Brennan! I am tired of putting my ass on the line. This is no gift! It’s a fucking curse. And that collar and the bullshit you and the Order preach about the realms and protecting people…fuck this shit! Take your damn Order of Watchers. I don’t want it anymore. I’m tired of being a hunter and a killer. I don’t want to train a boy to be like me. This is exactly what they want, isn’t it? They want us to fight them. They want us to bring the fight to them so they can break free enter this world and rule it again. We are playing into their hands. There must be another way…”

  He turned away. The outburst had made his lungs feel like they were being sliced with razor blades. He was grimacing from the pain and didn’t want Brennan to see it.

  “There is a plan for all of us, Frank. You know it and I know it. We are warriors. We kill to protect mankind, not for the thrill or the passion of it. There’s a difference.”

  “Think what you want. I’m tired. I need to rest. Get out,” Frank said without looking at him.

  “I’ll speak with you later, Francis.”

  The door closed and Frank unclenched his fists, which had balled the bed sheets into tight knots in his hands. He was sick of this. Sick of constantly being on the road. Sick of seeing the visions. Sick of the killing and the fighting and the pain. He just wanted to be normal. He wanted to not see or know anymore. He wanted to be alone on a lake somewhere, fishing, and living off the land, away from people. Away from all this black magic bullshit.

  That’s not possible though, is it?

  The truth was, Brennan was right. They needed all the help they could get to help fight against the Fallen. They would just keep coming for this realm. They wanted it for themselves and their power was growing. They’d had a breakthrough with the girl and were manipulating people into letting the Fallen loose on the world. He knew where this was heading. There wouldn’t be a world for him to live in, to find peace in if he didn’t fight. There would just be death and destruction, pain and agony for all of humanity.

  That’s the thing about evil: you can’t ignore it, talk to it, change it. You have to crush it, wipe it out, and erase it from existence.

  He was one of the few that could stop it. He knew that. He hated it, but in the end, gift or curse – whatever you wanted to call it – this was his role, his responsibility. He was a Watcher. He knew that and had never been one to shun his responsibilities. He would go back and fight again. The Fallen and the Realm of Second Death had taken most of his family and all that was good from him. He needed to stop them from doing the same to someone else. And they need to pay for what they’ve done to me and my family…

  But for now, all he wanted was rest. He drifted off into a restless sleep with the image of some faraway place in the country, on a lake, fishing pole in hand, catching the big one and reeling it in. No one around. Just him and the water.

  One day. One day…

  EPILOGUE

  October 24, 2015

  New York, New York

  “Father Brennan, th
ank you so much for seeing us,” Sarah said. She was self-conscious of how she looked in front of the priest as she flattened her dress and brushed her hair from her face and shoulders. She had no idea why, but she was always self-conscious in front of priests. So silly. They shouldn’t care about how I look anyway, she thought.

  It was not the priest, exactly; it was something to do with being presentable before God, she thought.

  “Sarah,” Brennan said, taking her hand in both of his. “Good to see you.” He looked past her and at the boys in tow.

  Just behind her was Nic. He had a permanent scowl beneath his brown cowlicked hair, as if he were always ready for a fight, Sarah thought to herself. It was no wonder with what he was going through with his brother. They were all scared for him and with Sarah working all the time, a lot of responsibility fell on Nic. He was strong like her, but it was so much for a boy of just sixteen to handle. She worried about him as much as she worried about Jack, but in a different way. She worried about what would happen to him later; with Jack, she worried about what was happening to him now.

  Behind Nic, a crease of worry perpetually plastered across his forehead, underneath long brown bangs, was Jack. The top of his head was always visible because he was always looking at the ground.

  Afraid, she thought. He’s always so afraid. She felt a lump forming in her throat and swallowed it down. She had to be strong for them. No time to cry now. The Father would help them.

  She was sure Jack was possessed and Father Brennan would get him an exorcism. He had always been good to them ever since the bastard had left her with two young boys. God forgive me, but he was a bastard for leaving me all alone and without a penny to my name with these two beautiful boys. It had almost been the end of her and just as the family was coming out of the shock of his abandonment into their own, this thing with Jack started happening.