Legacy of the Watchers Series Boxed Set: Books 1-3

by Nancy Madore

  “But even when trapped in a ring, a djinn will never stop trying to escape,” said Will. “They’re desperate, relentless and extremely clever, which is why we take so many precautions.”

  Nadia recalled how—when they thought she was a djinn—they had refused to let her speak while in her body, even threatening to gag her if she so much as opened her mouth!

  “Until Asmodeous, failures in the ring have always been the result of errors on the part of the conjurer,” said Will. “Mostly it happens to amateurs.”

  “Which is why we thought Lilith escaped in nineteen forty-eight,” said Clive. “Your great-grandfather and his colleagues had no idea what they were doing. It’s amazing that Lilith didn’t take over the body of your grandmother.”

  “The only explanation is that she was trapped in the dark place all those years,” said Will. “She simply didn’t have time to figure it out. Given another day…” he shrugged.

  “That’s why we have to keep advancing too!” Gordon suddenly exclaimed. “Don’t you see? This locking them up and throwing away the key is wrong! The djinn are showing us the solution through their behavior. Look how carefully they guard their secrets! We should be picking their brains! We should be referring back to them for information on a regular basis!”

  They were all taken aback by this passionate outburst from Gordon, but Will was quick to recover. “Gordon,” he began wearily, “we work for an organization that goes back thousands of years. They’ve tried this many different ways and they’ve decided that any association with the djinn eventually leads to corruption. The desire to ‘pick their brains’ is exactly what brought about corruption in the past! You know this! We just spent the last hour telling Nadia how dangerous they are.”

  Nadia glanced at Clive, who was staring at his feet.

  When no one spoke, Will continued—“While I appreciate your argument—and I do, Gordon, I really do—you have to appreciate that you and I are nothing more than soldiers on a battlefield. Individual soldiers can’t make independent decisions about the war. Whether they agree with their commanding officers or not, they have to follow orders.”

  “You’re right,” Gordon conceded, though he didn’t sound as if he believed it.

  “I mean…supposing we do get more information for our database,” Will continued. “Where do we tell them we got it?”

  “I’m going to have to side with Gordon on this one,” said Clive. Will had the look of a sea captain with a potential mutiny on his hands as he slowly turned his gaze on Clive. “Look, man, I was with you on this either way,” said Clive consolingly. “But now that we’ve decided to do this, let’s fucking do it. Not another hasty, unproductive debriefing like the last one, but a real interrogation! Let’s suck this motherfucker dry! Make him talk!”

  “I’ve already agreed to do it this one time,” said Will, clearly exasperated—“But he’s talking like we’re going to start a support group for them or something! I need to know that this is going to be it. Just this one time!”

  “I’m cool with that,” said Clive.

  “And you?” Will asked Gordon.

  “I’m…cool with that too,” said Gordon.

  “Are you sure?” asked Will. “I want your word on that.”

  Gordon nodded. “I’m sure,” he agreed.

  Will sighed. “Okay then,” he said. “Let’s get this show on the road.”

  Chapter 9

  It was a little disconcerting that something so extraordinary should be so uncomplicated. But it was as easy as pie—not at all like getting a djinn out of a body. Nadia would never forget the gruesome fight Asmodeous put up to remain inside the body of Edward Adeire. She recalled the flesh being pulled in all directions. It was one of the most horrific things she had ever seen in her life.

  Calling forth a djinn from a ring was a different matter altogether. All Gordon had to do was to utter a few unintelligible words and within minutes a dark mist appeared, winding its way upwards as it shifted and changed, right before their eyes.

  The mask was awkward, a large, ungainly helmet that sat on their heads, with a medieval-looking shield covering the face. Nadia didn’t like wearing it, but as she watched the mist take form, she unconsciously clasped it more securely to her head with both hands. Fear, disbelief, horror and excitement all whirled up inside her, creating a storm of emotions that took her breath away.

  And then it was just like that moment in the Wizard of Oz when Dorothy’s house touched down with a solid thump, and she suddenly realized that she wasn’t in Kansas anymore. First and foremost is the sense of unreality, accompanied by a kind of suspension of belief, and then, finally, there’s the realization that you’ve somehow stumbled into another, entirely different world. It could have been Oz, or Alice’s Wonderland, or even Sinbad’s Thousand and One Nights. It was all at once terrifying and astonishing. Nadia’s mind reeled like a whirling dervish at what she was seeing.

  Ornias was unlike anything Nadia had seen thus far. Though Lilith and Asmodeous had both taken very different forms, their souls had fit somehow—or so it seemed to Nadia. Ornias was a creature unto himself.

  From what Nadia could tell, each djinn was a unique combination of mismatched parts—which in and of themselves might have belonged to any number of creatures here on earth—that formed a kind of spiritual Frankenstein. Often, some aspect of that borrowed body part would be altered or exaggerated, creating an even more disturbing effect. Ornias was no different in this respect. At first glance, he looked like an enormous, plumy bird, as gangly and awkward as he was willowy and elegant. In spite of his extraordinary size, he seemed weightless, floating inexplicably before them like a large, showy phantom. He appeared almost skeletal beneath his delicate feathers, and Nadia noticed that his wings made up the largest part of him. Long, wispy bits of feather sprung out all around him, with the most prominent collection at his tail and another impressive cluster just behind the blood-red crest on the top of his head. His feathers were mostly cream colored—the color of angels, Nadia thought—with hues of red and burgundy and gray shimmering throughout in the evening light. He had the face of fox—a grinning fox—with sly, squinty eyes, a long snout and small, sharp-looking teeth. The feathered crest at the tip of his head was parted down the middle and separated, giving the impression of two alert ears. The feathers from the top of his head to the tip of his nose were red, while the rest were wispy and light, like the ones on his body. The exquisite coloring might have seemed feminine if not for his expression and manner, which were infinitely masculine. He seemed both confident and cunning. His cold, calculating eyes glimmered with intent, while his jaw-line formed a permanent, self-satisfied smile. He assessed them with as much interest as they examined him, taking them one at a time, and paying special attention to Nadia. Even from behind the mask, she felt vulnerable. His smile seemed to deepen when she shuddered.

  “This one’s new,” he observed. His voice was also different from what Nadia expected. It was friendly and pleasing—obliging even. And yet, the expression in the eyes didn’t quite match the tone.

  “So you remember us then,” remarked Gordon—a bit shakily, it seemed to Nadia. The event was undoubtedly shocking for them, too.

  “All but her,” replied Ornias, resting his gaze on Nadia once again. He tilted his head sideways, as if concentrating. Nadia held her breath. “You want something from me,” he said. “You’re looking for someone?”

  “We’re looking for information about an old friend of yours,” said Gordon.

  This got Ornias’ attention. “An old friend of mine?” he asked, as if intrigued. “Pray tell! I’m always delighted to catch up with old friends.”

  “Asmodeous?” inquired Gordon.

  Ornias’ shifty eyes seemed to grow even shiftier. The grin, which was a feature in itself, seemed to slip the tiniest bit. His gaze touched each of them again. The grin appeared to return to normal.

  “And what is that sanctimonious malcontent up to these days?
” Ornias asked.

  “When was the last time you saw him?” asked Gordon, ignoring Ornias’ question.

  “I’ll have to think about that,” the creature replied craftily. “I can’t remember every single thing off the top of my head, you know.” He paused, as if considering. “We weren’t exactly the best of friends,” he continued. “He was so disapproving all the time. I had to finally take him off my ‘A’ list, if you know what I mean.” He’d been watching Nadia like an animal watches its prey, but he turned now, to address Will. “I could help you find him,” he said, and Nadia suddenly realized that he had been sizing each of them up and had reached the conclusion that Will was in charge. His gaze returned to Nadia. “You’re connected to him, aren’t you? His lover, perhaps?”

  Will touched Nadia’s arm to prevent her speaking.

  “You were about to tell us when it was you last saw Asmodeous,” Gordon reminded him.

  “Yes,” replied Ornias agreeably. “I was, wasn’t I? Let’s see. I think it was nineteen twenty-something, in London. Just after the first war. It must have been January or February because I remember it was cold outside. We passed on the street. I recognized him the moment I laid eyes on him.”

  “How?” asked Gordon.

  Ornias made a sound like a short laugh. “I’d know Asmodeous anywhere.”

  “Tell me how,” insisted Gordon.

  Ornias shrugged. It was clear that he preferred to answer the questions his own way, but he seemed to know when he’d been beaten. “We can always tell when we’re looking at another Qliphoth,” he said. “From the eyes.”

  “Qliphoth?” asked Gordon.

  “I don’t care for your term, ‘djinn’,” he replied.

  “Isn’t Qliphoth worse?” asked Gordon. “Doesn’t it mean something like, not from God, or anti-God?”

  “That’s the meaning the Hebrews assigned to it later,” Ornias admitted. “But that’s not what it means to us.”

  “What does it mean to you?”

  The light was fading from Ornias’ eyes, and Nadia had the impression that he was uncomfortable with this line of questioning. “It means ‘the souls of our cherished ones,’” he answered quietly. “Or at least, that’s what the Watchers intended for it to mean when they gave our souls that name.”

  “You can tell when you’re looking at a Qliphoth by its eyes?” asked Gordon, using the preferred term.

  “Yes,” replied Ornias.

  “What do you do when you see one?” asked Gordon.

  Ornias shrugged again. “Sometimes we just nod and pass. But usually we’ll stop and chat. If we knew them before, we’ll catch up on old times. We don’t exchange current names or private information, you know—just in case. It’s irrelevant anyway. We’re addressing the soul, not the body

  “And Asmodeous?” prompted Gordon.

  “Ah, yes,” said Ornias, a strange light appearing in his eyes. “I remember watching him come up the street, like a dark cloud approaching. All around it was gay—the old gay, not the new—you know, fun. London was the place to be in the twenties. The music, the people, the women…but then here comes old gloomy Gus up the street!” He groaned. “But I must say, he did sort of smile when he caught sight of me.”

  “Did you speak to him?” asked Gordon.

  “Yes. We went into this little pub I liked and had a drink.”

  “What did you talk about?”

  “Nothing…and everything,” said Ornias. “The war, what was happening in Palestine, you know, current events. Asmodeous was worried that another war was brewing. He was all up in arms about everything as usual. Worried about this, worried about that. Always worrying. I really just wanted to enjoy my drink.”

  “What was Asmodeous doing in Britain?” asked Gordon. “Were you surprised to see him there?”

  “Surprised?” Ornias paused a minute, as if to think what Gordon might mean by that. “No. Britain was a major power at the time, and though Asmodeous likes to keep a low profile, he’s attracted to power like a moth to a flame. He was a British scholar of some sort. Probably had something to do with archaeology. He was always digging up the past! He was gearing up for some big exploratory thing or other in Palestine. I think it was still Palestine then. Yes. A place called Ash-something. Of course, that part of the world will always be Canaan to me.”

  “Do you mean Ashkelon?” asked Will, reading from his phone.

  “Yes,” said Ornias. “That’s it.”

  “Why was he going there?” asked Gordon.

  “You have to ask?” countered Ornias. “You don’t know much about Asmodeous then, do you?” He let out a heavy sigh with a long suffering air. “He was looking for his long lost love.” His smile deepened. “Of course, he never came right out and said so, but I knew. I knew that’s what he was after all right.”

  “What made him think Lilith’s tablet was there?” asked Gordon.

  Ornias seemed surprised. “Oh, you do know about her! Well, tell me—I’m begging you—did he ever manage to find her? Are the two star-crossed lovers out there right this moment trying to take over the world?”

  “Why did Asmodeous think the tablet might be in that part of Palestine?” repeated Gordon.

  Ornias shrugged. “He didn’t say. I told you, he never actually mentioned Lilith or the tablet.”

  “Why do you think he was going there?” asked Gordon, rephrasing the question.

  “Well, I knew he wasn’t interested in the Philistine ruins, which was what they were supposed to be digging up out there. He already knew the tablet wasn’t in that area. The site had been stripped a dozen times—a couple of those times by his own hand! But trouble was brewing there. Things were heating up between the Arabs and the Jews…more than usual, you might say. Britain had taken control of the area, and they were basically handing it over to the Jews. The Arabs were threatening to attack.”

  “What does that have to do with Lilith’s tablet?” asked Gordon.

  “Everything,” replied Ornias. “You see, Asmodeous figured the missing tablets and Books of the Dead had already been found—most likely by the Jewish monks. Or, at least, the Jewish monks were the only ones who wouldn’t have destroyed them. They kept everything, but in times of conflict, they would sometimes stash important documents in old burial sites, where people were least likely to go. The monks know that area like the back of their hand. They know all the old sites, and every nook and cranny in between. And that’s why, when there’s any kind of activity in that part of the world, you can bet Asmodeous will be nearby.”

  “What else did you and Asmodeous talk about?” asked Gordon. “Besides his going to Palestine.”

  “Oh, he was concerned about everything that was happening in the world,” Ornias said. “The plight of man, that kind of thing.”

  “What, exactly, were his concerns?” asked Gordon.

  “He was concerned about another war.”

  “The second world war?” asked Gordon.

  “No,” said Ornias. “He knew that was imminent too, but he was referring to a different kind of war. Between the angels.”

  “Do you know what he was referring to?” asked Gordon.

  “Who knows,” Ornias replied with a shrug.

  “If you had to guess,” prompted Gordon.

  “He might have mentioned…Armageddon,” said Ornias noncommittally.

  “What did he say about Armageddon?” asked Gordon.

  “We didn’t get that far,” said Ornias. “To be honest, I didn’t want to get into it with him. I was meeting someone, and frankly, I was wishing my friend would hurry up and get there. Asmodeous was too intense for me. Always looking for trouble. And obsessed with the past. I don’t think he ever got over losing Lilith.”

  “You weren’t even curious to know what he was talking about?” asked Gordon, incredulous.

  Ornias paused. “I might not think the way Asmodeous does, but I can definitely help you find him,” he said with conviction.

  “Yo
u’ve got nerve, thinking we’re gonna let you out again after this,” said Gordon in a surprisingly authoritative manner. “Every answer we get out of you is like pulling teeth. You weren’t very helpful in our last discussion either.”

  Ornias’ eyebrows rose with interest. “Wasn’t I?” he asked innocently.

  “You never even mentioned Asmodeous,” Gordon accused.

  Ornias shrugged. “Why would I? He was a bore. And you never asked.”

  “You never mentioned Solomon either,” said Gordon. “Was he a bore too?”

  Ornias’s smile became sheepish. “You wanted to know about Solomon too? Why didn’t you say so?” But then he suddenly became defensive. “Do you remember every single person you’ve ever encountered?” he asked. “Try remembering people over thousands of years!” He shrugged. “So you found the testament, eh? Well, it’s common enough I suppose. Most people don’t take it seriously—and rightly so. Still, it wasn’t exactly my finest hour. Embarrassing, really. Of all the people out there, I had to single out some kid who was a friend of King Solomon’s! And of all the clumsy ways to do it, too. Well, that was always my luck.” His tone became piteous. “I was humiliated,” he said. “That’s why I didn’t bring it up.”

  “When Solomon conjured you, first thing you did was give him Asmodeous,” said Gordon, ignoring his excuses.

  “Of course!” said Ornias. “I was trying to be nice. Not that Asmodeous ever appreciated any of my attempts at friendship but he was definitely glad to be among Solomon’s djinn. The project had his name all over it. I thought maybe it would cheer him up. Give him something else to think about besides that wild, Amazonian shrew he was always going on about. Lilith, Lilith, Lilith! It’s all coming back to me now. The mood swings, the whining, the constant searching for the tablets they buried before the flood. He would never shut up about them.”