The Watcher

by Jeanne C. Stein

  Oh ye of little faith.

  If you mean the kind that moves mountains, you're right. I'm fresh out.

  There's another pause. If I help you, Anna, you must understand, it will be the last time.

  My shoulders jump, not only from what he says but the way he's says it. Solemnly. A pronouncement from which there is no appeal. The same way Williams sounded when he said I had to disappear. You mean forever?

  Yes.

  But why?

  Because to do this for you, I have to be with you. Once we share physical space, the bond between guardian and charge is broken.

  Guardian and charge?

  The relationship between you and I.

  Like a guardian angel?

  Casper chuckles. An angel?

  It makes sense. You helped me when I was caught by the Revengers and again when Trish was in trouble. What happens if I need you in the future?

  That is why you must decide now. You can leave this place. You don't need to go into Beso de la Muerte. You must realize that what you hope to accomplish may not be possible.

  How does he know what I hope to accomplish? I don't even know that.

  Yes, you do. You hope to help your friend Culebra and have time left over to save Max.

  A thrill of alarm races up my spine. Does Culebra need help? Does Max?

  You believe that they do.

  He's right, of course. My mind races into overdrive. Max is god only knows where. Culebra may be here and under a definite time constraint.

  Is Culebra close?

  Casper doesn't answer.

  Maybe he doesn't need to. The fact that this barrier is here can mean only one thing—whatever the coven has planned for tonight has something to do with Beso de la Muerte. Whether Culebra is a willing participant or not, he took great pains to empty his camp and scare me away. There could only be one reason. He planned to try to stop her. Unsuccessfully, from the message that accompanied my hitting that wall. If Belinda Burke is as powerful a force as Williams thinks, what chance did one shape-shifter have against her and a coven of witches determined to open a gate to the underworld? My instinct is telling me I need to get into Beso de la Muerte. Culebra is smart and resourceful. He may have left a clue there to help me find him.

  That is your decision?

  It is not surprising that Casper knows the answer before I do. Yes.

  Instantly, the air around me swirls and draws away, like the sea receding from a beach at low tide. The sensation is accompanied by a rushing sound, loud, aggressive, hostile in its intensity. I put my head down, fighting the urge to cover my ears, then my eyes, as I'm assaulted by a blinding white light. A rip appears in the fabric of the desert and fills with the light. Then, just as quickly, the light and sound fade. When I raise my eyes again, I'm no longer alone.

  I blink. You're Casper?

  He sniffs. That's not my name, you know. My name is Avatoar. And you don't have to look so surprised. What were you expecting ?

  I don't know what I expected. I just know it's not what I see in front of me. Casper—or Avatoar—stands about three feet tall and has a bushy head of brilliant red hair. He has on a green jumpsuit that looks like it's made of silky parachute material. Perfect, I suppose, for jumping dimensions.

  I know I'm staring but I was expecting Michael the Archangel and I got— Are you a leprechaun?

  Again, he blows out an exasperated puff of air. Where would you get that idea ?

  Maybe from the slightly oversized head on the diminutive body. Since he doesn't react to that, I have to assume he's no longer in my head and I can take a few seconds to check him out. His face is wrinkled but not unattractive. He has round blue eyes and a strong chin. His body is well proportioned, just small.

  His mouth is curved in a frown.

  Finished gawking?

  I blink again and nod.

  Then we should get to work.

  I wait expectantly for him to tell me what to do.

  He puts a hand on my shoulders and pulls me down to a kneeling position so that we're eye to eye.

  This will hurt a little. But not for long. Try to relax.

  That, of course, causes the opposite reaction. My shoulders tense, my body becomes rigid. What do you mean, this will hurt?

  He doesn't respond. Avatoar's eyes are fixed on a point somewhere in the distance, just over my shoulder. I try to swivel my head to see what he does, but his grip is tight and the pressure of his fingers just at the base of my neck holds me immobile.

  Then the pain creeps up.

  When it begins, my first impulse is to fight. I slash at his arms, but for a little guy, his grip is mighty. I can't break his hold and I can't escape the blistering heat. It starts at my feet and works its way up. My skin is on fire. I'm being drawn into some kind of whirling, white-hot vortex. I feel Avatoar's hands but when I open my eyes, all I see is a blur of space. It's a Wizard of Oz tornado but Dorothy never looked like she was experiencing this kind of pain. I open my mouth to scream, but the intensity of the gale forces the scream back down my throat.

  I'm trapped, I'm powerless and I'm being burned alive.

  Chapter 26

  “Anna. Anna. Wake up."

  Second time in as many days I've heard those words. This time, though, the voice is high-pitched and tinny. Like one of those munchkins in the Wizard of Oz.

  Something shakes my shoulders. "Come on. It's over. Wake up."

  I don't want to wake up. Wherever I am is quiet, peaceful. No pain. No noise. No light. No hunger. Over the rainbow?

  "Am I in heaven?"

  The laugh is loud. Rude, even.

  I burrow deeper into whatever I'm lying on and refuse to open my eyes.

  "You're crushing me. Get up."

  Suddenly, I'm aware of movement. Beneath me. Something is squirming, trying to escape.

  Oh my god. Am I back in that motel room in Santee? Have I done it again?

  I pop one eye open, fight back a wave of nausea and spy an unfamiliar face with bright red hair.

  I have done it again. This time with—what? This guy looks a little strange and the length of his body stops somewhere just below my waist.

  I screwed a midget?

  The nausea is stronger, forcing me to squeeze my eyes shut again. Still, the spinning continues. It's like the horrible, out of control feeling from a bad drunk just before you pass out—or throw up.

  "Don't even think about it."

  The voice screeches in my ear.

  I jump up and away. A midget in a bright green jumpsuit stares at me. How did I get in that movie?

  "Thank the gods."

  "What?"

  He frowns. "Will you snap out of it?" He waves a hand. "See where we are?"

  I tear my eyes off the face of the munchkin long enough to sneak a look around.

  We're in the middle of a dirt road. There's a car with a smashed front end—

  A flash of recognition. The car? I touch my cheek. The skin feels rough, and it tingles.

  A memory hovers just out of reach.

  I shake my head. Concentrate.

  The midget stirs. "Come on. I have places to go, things to do. I can't wait here all day."

  "Listen, Casper—" That automatic response snaps everything into place.

  It must show on my face because Casper—er, Avatoar— grins. "At last. Jeez, Anna. It doesn't usually take so long for a vamp to come back. You were really out of it."

  I arch my back, working out a vicious kink. "I thought you said that would only hurt a little?"

  He shrugs. "If I told you it would hurt like a son of a bitch, would you have agreed to try?"

  His tone, his expression, his very words are certainly different from the rather ethereal character who used to tell me things like "don't forget who you are."

  I raise an eyebrow. "Who are you and what have you done with the real Casper?"

  He answers with a withering look.

  I approach the front of the car. Cautiously. Don't
want to bounce off the damned wall again. A tentative probe confirms that, as I suspected, I'm now on the other side of the barrier.

  There's a hole at my feet. Big enough for the two of us to have squeezed through.

  "Want to tell me how you did that?"

  "Pretty obvious isn't it?"

  I look from the hole to Avatoar. "You mean we tunneled under the barrier?"

  He makes his hands flutter. "More like bored under."

  That explains the heat and friction. "Why aren't my clothes torn or my skin?"

  "I could protect us from some of the effects of the vortex. Unfortunately, not the pain."

  "I noticed." I kick at the dirt. "Well, what now?"

  Avatoar doesn't answer.

  I turn around.

  I'm alone.

  I do a complete three sixty. Casper is nowhere in sight.

  I'm not surprised or angry. He did his part. Got me where I needed to be. But—

  I wave a hand at the sky. Wait, Casper. I have a question for you.

  For a moment, there's no answer. Then, Make it quick. I said I have places to go.

  How did you find out about me? In the beginning, with the Revengers?

  Casper's laugh floats back to me like music on a summer breeze. Jeez, Anna. I would have thought a smart cookie like you would've figured it out by now.

  Figured what out?

  That the Watchers may not be the only game in town. Bye, Anna. And good luck.

  Chapter 27

  Well. I don't know what kind of answer I expected, but certainly not that one. Now, of course, I have a hundred other questions. The Watchers aren't the only game in town, huh? Casper may be gone but I'll certainly grill Williams about it when I get out of here.

  I turn back to look at the car. I guess I'll have to burrow back to the car, gather the stuff I bought this morning to bring to Beso de la Muerte, and head for town.

  I look down.

  Avatoar isn't the only thing gone.

  The hole is, too.

  Shit.

  I throw up my hands. "You could have left the hole."

  I don't expect an answer and I'm not wasting time trying to make Avatoar come back. I believed him when he said I wouldn't be hearing from him again. I guess my probation period as a vampire is officially over. I'm sure when I have time to think about that, I'll miss Casper. But right now, I'm too busy being irritated with him. All the provisions I brought for this little foray are still locked in the trunk of a car I can no longer reach.

  The sun is already low in the sky. Nothing to do now but make my way into Beso de la Muerte and see if Culebra left any clue about what's happened to him.

  I start out at a jog, a pace designed to prevent my unprotected head from bouncing off any other obstacles that Burke might have thrown up. But this time, I get all the way into town with nothing to slow me down but the mounting desire to be running the other way. My feet tread relentlessly forward, but my head is yelling at me to turn around and get the hell out of here. The fact that darkness is falling adds to the escalating feeling of dread.

  Once in sight, the street and its decrepit collection of rotting buildings looks even more run down than I last remembered. It's as if with Culebra and his "guests" gone, decomposition has accelerated. The boards on the dusty sidewalk creak an ominous warning as I approach the saloon. I have to force myself to push open the swinging doors and walk inside. The threat of something dark and evil makes every motion of my hand, every footstep, heavy with foreboding. It's right in front of me, floating just out of reach, a shadow promising the torment of a nightmare, the embodiment of one's worst fear. It's forcing itself into my head and under my skin. It's designed to raise the hackles on the back of my neck and bile in my throat.

  It's beginning to piss me off.

  I do a slow turn around the room. No light. No sound. But something is here. I exhale to steady my voice, calm my heart and say, "Okay, whatever you are. Save the theatrics for the paying customers. Either show yourself or leave me the hell alone."

  There's a rustle from behind the bar.

  Suddenly, my bravado wilts like a spring flower in the hot desert sun. My heart hammers with adrenaline-laced fear. What have I summoned?

  The rustling grows louder, something gathering itself to what? Attack? I hear a low, ominous growl. Shape-shifting perhaps into a monster fashioned from my very own nightmares?

  Should I run? Even as the thought passes through my head, I know I can't. I'm rooted to the spot. I force myself to move, to approach the bar. I'll meet whatever is there head-on. I pick up a chair, hold it over my head. My reflexes seem to have reverted back to human speed. Fear has driven even the vampire away.

  "Come out, you son of a bitch. I'm right here."

  The rustle gets louder, concentrated almost. But the thing doesn't show itself.

  A thought dawns. Maybe it's as frightened of me as I am of it.

  Or maybe it wants me to think that. To let my guard down and approach even closer, exposing myself to the full brunt of its attack.

  My head is starting to hurt again. I can't wait much longer if I'm going to find Culebra before the witching hour. I've come this far pretty much intact. I may as well go for broke.

  My grip on the chair tightens. I open my mouth to let out a banshee yell. If nothing else, I'll scare the damned thing to death.

  A head pokes over the top of the bar, a hand waves frantically. "Damn it, Anna. Give me a minute, will you. I'm trying to get my pants on."

  The chair clatters to the floor. "Frey?"

  He disappears again and I catch the brief, sibilant sound of the metal teeth on a zipper meshing together. Then he stands up and holds up both hands. "It's me, okay? Relax."

  Relax? "What the hell are you doing here?"

  Daniel Frey comes around the bar, shirtless, barefoot. And grins.

  "Williams sent me. I've been waiting for you."

  Chapter 28

  Waiting for me? I don't know which question to ask first, so I spew them all out. "How did you get here? How long have you been waiting? Why did Williams send you? What does he expect you to do?"

  He picks up the chair I dropped, rights it and straddles it, leaning his arms on the back. "I got here the way any cat would, I padded on little panther feet. I've been here since last night. Wished Williams would have mentioned there was no food. Had to hunt and around here, pickin's are slim. Have you ever tried to eat coyote?" He pantomimes spitting something out of his mouth.

  "Why are you here? What did Williams say?"

  Frey shrugs. "Didn't give me any specific orders. Just told me to keep an eye on you."

  "But how did you get past Culebra's wall?" He grins. "Wall? What wall? Obviously whatever was in your way was constructed to keep humans and vampires out. Not animals."

  "Where'd you get the clothes?"

  He jabs a thumb toward the bar. "Found them right there in back. Don't know who left them but I wish whoever it was would have dropped off some real food, too. What I wouldn't give for a big juicy burger."

  His answers are well rehearsed and glib. I'm not unhappy that it's Frey here instead of the faceless monsters I'd conjured up in my imagination, but something still isn't right.

  "Were you trying to scare me when I was outside on the road just now?"

  He frowns. "I don't know what you mean."

  "Come on. Were you projecting some kind of malevolent energy?"

  He shakes his head. "Malevolent energy? That's a little dramatic, isn't it? Sorry, Anna. You give me way to much credit. All I felt coming here was hunger and thirst. Still do. You didn't by any chance bring any groceries with you?"

  I shake my head. "Vampire. I don't need groceries, remember?"

  But I cross to the bar and look behind it. The cooler is still there. I open it, pull out a couple of bottles of beer, pop the tops and come back to Frey. "Here."

  I know he doesn't really like beer, he once told me he was a wine man, but he accepts the bottle anyway
and takes a swig. He drinks greedily, eyeing me. When he comes up for air, he says, "Aren't you joining me?"

  After what happened two nights ago with Dan? I may never drink again. Instead of saying that, though, I make a sweeping gesture around the bar. "Why didn't you change into your human form before this? You would have at least had something to drink."

  Frey finishes off the beer. "I wanted to be ready in case anyone besides you showed up. I figured the sight of a panther would discourage visitors." He hands me the first bottle and takes the second. "If you're not going to drink that…"

  I hand it over. "Visitors? I told you there's an invisible wall out there that pretty much takes care of discouraging visitors."

  Frey raises an eyebrow. "And I told you, I didn't know anything about that."

  I pull a chair close to him and sit down. He's chugging the second beer the same way he did the first. While I watch him drink, that something-isn't-right feeling comes roaring back. Only now, I know exactly what isn't right. "You said you've been here since last night?"

  He nods.

  "And Williams sent you to wait for me? Did he tell you why I'm here?"

  "Probably because he wants you out of the way for some reason."

  "You think?"

  Frey is watching the play of emotion on my face. We no longer have the mind connection, I took care of that when I fed from him a few months ago, which broke the psychic link between us. But he has animal instincts and he picks up on my anger and confusion.

  "Maybe he is trying to protect you," he says finally. "Rumors have been going around that something's about to stir up trouble in the supernatural community. Big trouble. Williams might want to keep you out of it."

  "No 'might' about it." Irritation brings me to my feet, and I shove the damned chair out of my way. I wish it were Williams I was shoving. "He as much as told me the same thing just before he banished me with one sweep of his mighty hand. He didn't want me involved in the great witch hunt."

  "Witch hunt? You know about that?"

  He says it like he's surprised. "I take it everyone but me knew about it. Williams thinks I can't help. He thinks I'd be a liability. I can't believe he's forced me out here to stand on the sidelines while my friend is in danger."