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

by Nancy Madore

  Spengha only grunted and shrugged again. “I could think of worse daeva to have occupying my body.”

  Ornias was genuinely touched by this. “Thank you,” he said.

  Spengha shrugged. “Sure,” he replied amiably. “This body will be glad to be rid of me. I think it will especially enjoy the pleasures you’ll bring it with the women of this village. It’s how it should be.”

  “Isn’t your body enjoying those pleasures already?” Ornias asked. “I mean, women seem to like strong, warrior types, like you.” When Spengha didn’t answer Ornias went on. “You must get your fair share.”

  Spengha had suddenly grown serious. “Let’s just say I’m hoping this experience will make me a better person.”

  “How will it do that?”

  “By forcing me to give of myself,” he said, “and to face up to my weaknesses.”

  Neither of those things sounded good to Ornias.

  “Even if I lose myself entirely,” continued Spengha—“Even if the worst happens…it will be an improvement over what I was before.”

  “How can you say that?” cried Ornias. And suddenly Ornias remembered that Spengha had been condemned to death. “What were you…before?”

  “I killed.”

  “Isn’t that what all warriors do?” asked Ornias. That was precisely why Ornias didn’t want to be one.

  “I killed…women,” Spengha clarified ruefully.

  “Women…!” exclaimed Ornias, examining Spengha’s face to determine if he was speaking the truth. Ornias couldn’t imagine such a thing. The merest thought of a woman—even just the concept of them in general—had always filled him with a yearning so powerful it would sometimes make him woozy. “But…why would you do that?”

  Spengha had just shrugged. “It’s just the way I am, I guess,” he’d said. “It’s like they were…prey. You know, like when you discover a rabbit. Or a deer. You just have to kill it.”

  Never having had the urge to kill so much as a fly, Ornias didn’t know. But the thought of killing a woman was so appalling that he couldn’t help shuddering. He felt a sudden revulsion, and had to remind himself that Spengha was his only friend. He was the only person who accepted Ornias for who he was. The least Ornias could do was to accept Spengha for who he was in return. But killing women?

  “Does…my father know?” Ornias had asked him.

  “Your father specifically requested me,” Spengha told him. “His reasoning was that my extraordinary viciousness might counteract your complete lack therein.” This didn’t surprise Ornias at all. That was exactly how his father would’ve looked at it.

  “Course, you and I both know that, in the event of your death, this body will never kill another living thing again.” Spengha seemed genuinely happy about that, and Ornias felt himself relenting the smallest bit. In fact, he couldn’t help pitying the man. “You’ve helped me,” Spengha often told him. “Listening to you ramble on about women…I really think you’re changing me.”

  “Does it bother you when I talk about women?” Ornias asked him one day. “It doesn’t make you want to… do bad things to them, does it?”

  Spengha laughed. “Quite the opposite. You make me see women differently. That song you wrote about their soft, silky loins…that really got to me.” But Ornias was never sure if Spengha was serious or joking. Another time, Spengha teased—“If it wasn’t for women, what would you talk about Ornias?”

  Ornias often wondered how Spengha went about it. Did he strangle them with his bare hands? Did he mate with them first, before killing them? So many questions arose in his mind. And yet, he was too afraid to ask for details.

  Their friendship remained the same on the surface, but Ornias had lost a great deal of respect for Spengha. Yet Ornias couldn’t help feeling grateful for him, too. He was, after all, making the greatest sacrifice a person could make, even if he didn’t have any choice in the matter. And he seemed genuinely pleased to do it, insisting that Ornias would make much better use of his body than he ever did. In addition, ‘to protect this poor body,’ Spengha had persuaded Ornias to learn some simple defensive moves to ward off his brothers. Things were definitely looking up. And Ornias was feeling better.

  But then the dreams came and everything changed. It all started with Ornias’ grandfather, Mahway, who dreamt that he saw an enormous tablet of names being immersed in water. When the tablet emerged, all but three of the names had been washed away. More angels and giants came pouring into the land of the Haltamti from around the world, many of whom were having similar dreams. One angel dreamed that he was in a great forest where two hundred trees were cut down. He was certain the two hundred trees were connected to the two hundred angels who had been sent to this earth to watch over its inhabitants. Another angel dreamed of one enormous tree being uprooted except for three of its roots. This seemed to indicate that the human race would be ‘uprooted’ except for three bloodlines.

  The dreams, though varied, were eerily similar. The angels convened and interpreted them thus: The two hundred Watchers were going to be ‘cut down,’ which seemed to indicate more than just a banishment from earth. It implied a loss of freedom, if not the loss of life. Since angels couldn’t be destroyed, it probably meant some kind of imprisonment for the Watchers.

  In order to eradicate the Watchers’ seed, all of mankind would be wiped off the earth, except for three pure ‘roots,’ which would bring about the new race. It was later determined that these three men were the descendants of a man called Noah, whose bloodline had not yet been tainted by the Watchers.

  Three of the Watchers were sent out in search of a prophet called Enoch, who had been favored by the angels that declared war on the Watchers—a mysterious and secretive group of beings, called, simply, ‘the Others.’ These ‘Others’ had been sending Enoch the dreams which the Watchers had been intercepting.

  Enoch confirmed the Watchers interpretation of the dreams, and he explained why, saying—“It is not the evil fruit, but the poison in it.” He further added—“For garments, your sons wear corpses…and your daughters imprison the women of earth in bones, nerves and skin.”

  These ‘Other’ angels, whoever they were, had a clear picture of what was going on. Ornias had made similar comparisons himself. Yet Ornias felt that annihilation of their race was unjust. Given the same circumstances, wouldn’t the sons and daughters of men have done the same? Who wouldn’t want to keep living, given the opportunity? It was really a kind of self-defense, to destroy another in an effort to save one’s own life. And too, many of those ‘corpses’ had been more than willing. Ornias couldn’t help thinking about Spengha. Was it really better to kill him and waste a perfectly healthy body?

  Everything was changing, even the attitudes of the sons of men. Women were now hiding themselves from the angels, and they no longer looked up to their daeva offspring. Ornias felt himself most hated of all, especially after what happened to poor Anahita. He thought about his former lover, Agas, and sighed heavily. What happened to Anahita was his fault. Knowing how possessive Agas was, what had prompted him to pursue Anahita so openly? As a daeva, Agas had a distinct advantage over Anahita. Poor, adorable Anahita! To be falsely accused and placed in the hands of a daeva who was, at that very moment, lingering at death’s door! Soon Anahita—his adorable Anahita—would be no more! And even worse, no woman would come near him now. And who could blame them?

  His whole world seemed to be falling apart. And not just his world, but the world of the Haltamti people. The city was in unrest.

  But the last straw came when Spengha escaped and killed again. Once more, Ornias was to blame. He was supposed to ‘change’ Spengha by dying, but he couldn’t even do that right. If anything, Ornias was the one who had changed, becoming stronger and healthier since meeting Spengha.

  The failures were adding up. Ornias was a failure as a warrior, a failure as a son, and even a failure when it came to dying. All this he could accept, but to be a failure with women! That was too much.r />
  He rolled over on his bed and groaned again. He would have to leave. He could no more face the Haltamti women than he could face the prospect of taking on another druj. Anyway, he suspected that he was not really ill or dying. He was just lazy and stupid, like the physician said.

  A disaster was coming. For him, it had already struck. Ornias had nothing to lose.

  But where would he go? He suspected that every city would be the same. Word had gotten out about the Watchers. And anyway, he was weary of people. He decided to go east and head for the mountains. There, he would hide—and possibly survive the coming war.

  Chapter 12

  Long Island, New York

  Present day

  The heat of the shower felt wonderful. All the stress of that long day seemed to have gathered in one hard knot in the center of Nadia’s back, right between her shoulder blades. So many sensations had passed through her; grief, anger, fear, regret…and even excitement. It had been that way since the kidnapping—a steady stream of emotions following one trauma after another—and Nadia supposed it would continue until they figured it all out. If they figured it all out. What if they didn’t? Would Nadia’s life be shattered forever?

  Her feelings for Will were no less confusing. On the one hand, he could be so loving and protective. She recalled how he had yielded to her earlier that day. She had no doubt that it was her plea that finally convinced him to allow this second interview with Ornias. He did it for her because he knew that she needed closure.

  But on the other hand, she couldn’t help feeling resentment on behalf of her father. And yet, she knew that none of it was Will’s fault. He was just doing his job. And he was right—about everything. But did he always have to be so…right? His offhanded comments about Asmodeous cut her to the core. He was talking about her father!

  It was all so unsettling. She admired Will’s conviction, even as she resented it. If only this wasn’t her father they were talking about!

  Her father. There was so much she didn’t know about him. She couldn’t shake the belief that he was a good man. But that attack on D.C.! All those people! It was so unlike the man she’d known.

  And what about Edward—the real Edward? Had he been in there, somewhere, all this time? Had he at least been allowed the opportunity to see his daughter before his soul shriveled up into nothingness? What would he think of her, if he could see her now?

  Nadia turned off the water and reached for a towel, grateful that Will had insisted they stay in a hotel. He was right again. She wouldn’t have been able to sleep in her father’s house. She felt a powerful yearning that seemed to reach the depths of her soul. Was it Will, or his strength, that she craved?

  She dried off slowly, afraid to face him. Should she reveal her feelings, or simply give in to her longing? Would he let her do both? She didn’t think so. She had noticed early on that he was one of those men who would walk through fire to do what he believed was right, but this self-sacrificing nature came with a price. It left him vulnerable to criticism. He was extremely defensive. She recalled his reaction when she accused him of misconduct back when she was his captive. He’d practically choked on his indignation when she called him a pervert!

  But if he became defensive now she would never forgive him.

  Nadia suddenly smiled. This was the kind of thing men were referring to when they talked about ‘mixed messages’ from women. It was true. And it probably wasn’t fair. But couldn’t a man just let a woman be upset—and love her anyway?

  Did Will love her?

  Nadia emerged from the bathroom in a thick cloud of steam. She was wrapped tightly in her robe. Will, who was sitting on the bed, doing something on his phone, looked up and smiled.

  “Feeling better?” he asked.

  “Much,” she replied, becoming even more flustered by his good mood.

  He put down his phone. “Come here,” he said. She obeyed reluctantly, and he maneuvered her so that she was sitting on the bed between his legs, facing away from him. He began massaging her shoulders through her robe.

  “It’s been a long day,” he said. She closed her eyes, thinking, ‘It made it seem even longer, listening to you pick my father apart, one little piece at time.’

  Will slipped his hands under her robe. They were warm. The robe slid down her shoulders. This seemed to encourage him, and he worked his hands down along her back, and then around, slowly, to her breasts. He cupped them in his hands, holding them gently, and lightly flicking a finger over her nipples. Desire rushed through her—throwing yet another emotion into the mix, and increasing her frustration.

  Why was he always so maddeningly in control?

  Nadia couldn’t say what she wanted in that moment. Let him have control then, she thought, trying to focus on the pleasure his hands were giving her.

  “You’re being awful quiet,” he observed, pressing a warm kiss just behind her ear. “Is everything all right?”

  “Does it matter?” she asked, a bit more harshly than she intended.

  His hands stopped. Shit, she thought.

  Will gently lifted the robe back over her shoulders and moved so that he was sitting beside her on the bed. Nadia just sat there, as if frozen. She regretted her words. And she was still trembling with desire. Couldn’t he feel it? No, she saw that he was retreating—protecting himself from her.

  He kissed her tenderly on the forehead. “Get some sleep,” he said, and then he got up and went into the bathroom to take a shower.

  Chapter 13

  Nadia couldn’t sleep, and Will’s steady breathing as he slept was making it worse. She slipped out of bed, threw on some clothes and snuck out of the hotel room as quietly as she could.

  She was surprised to see Gordon sitting at the hotel bar.

  “Well hello there, stranger,” she said, smiling. He appeared to be just as surprised to see her.

  “You can’t sleep either, huh?” he remarked. “Is everything okay between you and Will?” His forthrightness shocked her a little.

  She shrugged. “You know,” she replied, wondering if he did.

  “You’re going through a lot right now,” he said. “I wouldn’t know how to handle it either.”

  She looked around. “Are they still serving?”

  “Yeah, but there’s no wait staff,” he said. “We have to go to the bar. What do you want?”

  “A glass of wine would be great,” she said. “A cabernet, maybe. Their house wine will do.”

  “I’ll be back,” he said, getting up.

  Nadia looked around again. It was dark in the bar, but it appeared that they were the only ones there. In a few minutes Gordon returned with the wine.

  She sipped it eagerly, relishing that first exquisite moment when the alcohol hit her bloodstream. The wine seemed to grow warmer as it slid down her throat.

  “You could look on the bright side,” suggested Gordon. “You made out better than I did as far as roommates go.”

  Nadia laughed. “You’re probably right,” she admitted. “Though Clive can be entertaining.”

  “That’s true,” agreed Gordon. “I just never know whether it’s going to be a Night at the Improv or a cock fight.”

  Nadia laughed again. “Things are definitely more predictable with Will.”

  “Predictable…as in boring?” wondered Gordon.

  “No!” replied Nadia a little too quickly. But she smiled, sipping her wine thoughtfully. “I don’t know. He’s just so…predictable.”

  They both laughed.

  “I’ve known Will a long time,” Gordon told her. “We don’t always see eye to eye. But I have to say, I admire him. He’s a good guy, Nadia.”

  “I know that,” she said. “But at the moment, I’m a little confused on this whole ‘good guy’ thing. I mean, what does it mean? A good guy does what he thinks is right. But who is he to decide what’s right? Maybe he’s wrong.”

  “Ah,” said Gordon wisely, “so we’re talking about your father.”

 
Nadia was instantly upset. Tears flooded her eyes.

  “I’m sorry,” said Gordon. He took her hand and waited for her to look at him. “Your father was a good guy too,” he told her when her eyes finally met his. “He’s just fighting for something different than we are.” He sighed. “It’s like a war, you know. I always wondered what it must have been like to do battle in the old days, when you had to look your opponent in the eye. Who’s right and who’s wrong? In the end, that’s determined by the victor.”

  “But at least you question it,” said Nadia. “I can see you questioning it.”

  “You don’t think Will questions it?” Gordon asked.

  “No, I don’t,” she replied.

  “Well, I think you’re wrong about that,” said Gordon. “I think he does question it. I think he maybe questions it more than you or I do. That’s why he’s so ‘by the book.’ He doesn’t trust himself.”

  Nadia stared at Gordon, considering this.

  “Just an opinion,” said Gordon, sipping his beer. “I don’t have a degree in psychology or anything.”

  “It makes sense, though,” she mused. “It actually explains a lot.”

  Gordon shrugged. “A lot of guys are like that,” he said. “They just do what they’re told and hope they’ll be appreciated for it.”

  The wine was starting to go to Nadia’s head.

  “I was terrible to him tonight,” she admitted. “I wanted to be close to him but I pushed him away. I just…” she paused, blushing. “I guess I just wanted him to take charge, you know? Throw me down on the bed and…be a man!”

  Gordon seemed taken aback by this. “Respecting a woman’s wishes isn’t exactly a choice anymore,” he reminded her. “It’s mandatory. And it’s better to err on the side of caution, if you know what I mean.”