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

by Nancy Madore

  When at last they quitted the shower, a kind of urgency seemed to take hold of the creature within. It began opening closet doors and dresser drawers, and fishing through everything Amanda owned. It dressed slowly, carefully, giving Amanda the impression that this, too, was a new experience. Its choice of clothing was selected from among Amanda’s most suggestive items—a short, black skirt and a low cut, ‘hooker-pink’ top—which would normally be worn for nights out on the town. Then the creature combed out and fluffed Amanda’s blonde hair instead of blowing it dry, which would make it a tousled mess all day. Next, it reached for the makeup and applied it with a heavy hand. Amanda’s eyes, in particular, were lined in dark, coal gray, giving them a sultry look. The smirk on her face was what alarmed Amanda most. It was as if the thing that had taken possession of her had some ominous purpose for these preparations.

  For some reason, the dark makeup made Amanda think of Flo, and she was instantly embarrassed by the silly, childish distractions that made up her daily life. And yet—how she missed them! Amanda wondered if this was some kind of punishment. Maybe this was hell?

  Her body was brought before the mirror for inspection. As her eyes moved over her reflection, Amanda mused that it wasn’t as bad as she thought. It wasn’t the way people dressed in Alaska, but at least she wouldn’t be mistaken for a prostitute. She’d seen ‘career’ women dressed worse on television—though, in truth, they were usually the characters who were looking to sleep their way to the top, or use sex in some other way to get what they wanted. Her blue eyes had never looked sultrier, and her lips seemed particularly sensual in the lascivious red lipstick. Suddenly her head was thrown back and she heard herself explode into raucous laughter. It sounded like something evil!

  The laughter stopped, and now the thing twisted Amanda’s features into her most self-satisfied smirk—the one she liked to use for tormenting men. To see it now, being used against her (for Amanda had no doubt that she was its intended recipient) was more disturbing than anything that had happened so far. The creature actually winked at her in the mirror, and Amanda wondered, suddenly, if it could hear her thoughts. But if that were the case, wouldn’t Amanda hear its thoughts too?

  With a little start, Amanda suddenly realized that she was getting something—some vague little impressions and random thoughts—through the static. Were they coming from the thing that had taken over her body? She thought they must be, or, at least, she was fairly certain that they weren’t coming from her. In particular, there was one thought that kept recurring that held no meaning for Amanda. There was no reason for it to be in her head. It was a strange combination of numbers and words, like a mathematical equation. At first, only bits and pieces of it reached her through the static; ‘08 point 412 point…22 E.I. is less than…710 degrees…,’ and on it went; a long series of numbers and symbols that meant nothing to Amanda. But it was being repeated in earnest by something inside her, and Amanda wondered again what was happening to her. Was it even about her? Or was this about something else entirely?

  Her body was now making its way out of her apartment and into her car. Amanda knew where they were headed and, as her instincts proved correct, she was filled with a new dread. They were heading for the military base where she worked.

  Chapter 17

  Long Island, New York

  It felt good to be contacting people as the CEO of BEACON again. As Nadia flipped through her long list of contacts, she couldn’t help feeling pride in her many accomplishments. The guys—particularly Clive—had made her feel guilty about the money she made from disaster victims, but her conviction that she was providing a valuable service returned. There was corruption in every industry—as they just admitted that morning—but BEACON had not been contaminated by it. Nadia always delivered top dollar to her causes, which was no easy task. It took hours of planning and lots of hard work. Not to mention talent. And, of course, contacts. She deserved every penny she earned. It would benefit no one for her to become one of the downtrodden herself.

  And yet, perhaps some of her causes…

  Nadia shook off the thought with a little sigh. She would simply have to be more careful in the future, thoroughly investigating each case before offering support. It was a little like playing god. Who would get help and who would be left to survive on their own?

  Nadia was profoundly disappointed to discover that she didn’t know anyone even remotely connected to HAARP. She was certain that she’d heard of them before. Had her father mentioned them?

  She glanced at Clive, who met her eyes with a self-satisfied little smile. She wondered if he was just bluffing, and was a little surprised by how much she wanted to win their bet. And it wasn’t just because she didn’t like cooking.

  But though Nadia didn’t have a direct connection with HAARP, she had an endless supply of scholarly connections—everything from university professors to scientists. It was entirely possible that she could find someone who could shed some light on the formula.

  As Nadia ran down her list of academia, she was inevitably reminded of her father. Sadness came over her like a dark veil. She struggled to work through it. And yet she couldn’t help thinking how much she would have enjoyed discussing all of this with him!

  “How’s everyone doing?” asked Clive, standing up to stretch.

  “I’m ready when everyone else is,” said Gordon.

  “Me too,” said Will.

  Nadia rushed through another email. “I’m ready too,” she said.

  “Alrighty then,” said Clive. “Let’s get that ornery Ornias back out here to tell us what happened next!”

  Chapter 18

  The ancient Middle East

  Somewhere in the Pamir Mountains

  Nearly three years later

  The worst part was the darkness. It descended like a heavy blanket. The days hardly passed. It was as if time stood still. Ornias craved human companionship. There were moments when he would’ve given anything just to be teased by his brothers again.

  The journey itself had been a series of pleasant distractions. It took more than two years for Ornias to reach his little cave in the mountains, but he’d taken his time, observing the world and, when the mood struck, even settling for a while. He encountered giants everywhere he went. There was a new comradery among them, brought about by the coming war. They discussed strategies, which involved everything from riding out the storm in covered boats to finding methods for returning afterwards. There was much debate over Ornias’ plan to seek refuge in the mountains. Many considered those mountains the center of the earth, and possibly even the starting point of the coming war. The mountains were mysterious and uninhabitable, they warned. But Ornias figured his plan was about as good as any.

  He traveled alone, enjoying the respite from the inevitable social obligations that arose when he stayed in a community too long. He liked the feeling of independence he got from mastering the difficult terrain and felt a certain pride in his ability to survive.

  Each diversion from his journey was prompted by a woman. He found that he enjoyed women of all kinds, without partiality. He felt that he loved them all. The passion they inspired was the only thing that could lure him out of his solitude. This passion so overtook him one night, that he slipped into a kind of trance and tasted—really tasted, for the first time—the exquisite intimacy that can only be found in the blood. It was like finding a window into his lover’s soul. And the woman seemed to like it. This was not about survival. It was pure lust. He began practicing his bloodlust with each and every lover he encountered. In fact, the experience suddenly seemed lacking without it. When it came time to go he would gorge himself, leaving his lovers as weak as infants. But in this way, they would remain with him for the next few days during his long exodus back into seclusion, easing him into his solitude. A few times he worried that he might have gone too far and drank too much, and in the hours that followed he would cling remorsefully to that little part of them that he’d taken, willing them to
survive. Often he would think of Spengha, and then he would spend more long hours trying to convince himself that he wasn’t like him.

  When Ornias finally reached the mountains, leaving the last traces of humanity behind, he realized that he had only been toying with the concept of being alone. This, now, was what it was to be truly alone. And yet, he didn’t mind it so much at first. His thoughts were diverted by the demands of the rugged terrain. And there were other distractions as well. The views—like the isolation—were limitless. Each time he reached another peak—believing himself to be approaching the top of the world—he would see yet another, even higher, mountain in the distance. Each day presented a new challenge to occupy him. In spite of his aversion to killing, he became an expert hunter. He was stronger than he’d ever been in his life. What would his brothers think if they could see him now?

  It was a sudden thing when Ornias found his cave. He was growing weary of the eternal climbing and there it was; the perfect little alcove, just the right size and shape, set back into a level recess within the mountain. He only had to cut down a few trees to create a clearing for himself. And just beyond, was a precipice from which he could, from time to time, check on the rest of the world below.

  Ornias didn’t bother to keep track of the days, so he had no sense of how much time passed. He settled into his mountain home, making preparations for the coming war. It wasn’t until after, that he realized the war had come. It occurred to him suddenly, like a silent omen. The world grew dark and then came the relentless rain. The forest, meanwhile, had sprung to life all around him. It appeared that the instincts of the animals matched his own. They were rushing up the mountain to escape the danger below. It took him many days to work up the nerve to find out what they were running away from.

  Making his way through the dark and rain, Ornias somehow managed to find the precipice. He’d come here many times, but this time the views were completely obscured by the eerie blackness. He clung to a tree, soaked and shivering, and stared, unseeing, into the void. Suddenly, a sharp streak of lightening cut through the sky, giving Ornias a glimpse of the world below.

  It was completely covered in water.

  Ornias threw back his head and let out a fierce cry that brought about an immediate flurry of activity from the animals hiding all around him. This startled, and then sobered him. What else might be out there? Would the Others be looking for him?

  Ornias crept back to his cave and wept. He stayed like that for days, until, prompted by hunger, he ventured out once again. He felt a strange exhilaration to be alive and a determination to stay that way, although the rain weighed on him and the darkness left him depressed.

  It was singularly torturous to watch the water slowly creep up the mountain. And yet Ornias felt compelled to watch it, hour after hour, day after day. Sometimes he panicked, not out of fear that the water would reach him (for he felt he could keep climbing if he had to) but out of dread of being the only survivor left on earth. To choose to be alone was one thing. To have no choice in the matter was another altogether.

  To kill time, Ornias drew pictures on the walls of his mountain cave. He recreated his village through imagery, telling the story of the Haltamti people. Then he began on the cities and villages he had encountered on his long journey there. He devoted most of the wall to the women he’d loved. Pretty soon there were no more empty spaces on the walls of his mountain home.

  He was completely self-sufficient now. He lived off the land, like the animals, doing whatever had to be done to survive. He learned, with some surprise, that he was actually quite cunning and competent. He was no longer a boy. And yet, he was strangely attached to his cave. The water was receding now, and he watched it with growing dread. His fear that he was the only survivor persisted. He didn’t relish having it confirmed. Yet he was curious too. He longed to know what had become of his family and the rest of the Haltamti people. And as well, his yearning for a woman was becoming unbearable. The cave walls offered some comfort, but now he needed more. He wanted to engage his other senses, and for this he needed flesh—and blood.

  It took several failed attempts before Ornias finally left the cave for good and began his slow descent down the mountain. He traveled tentatively at first, telling himself that he could return to his cave any time he liked. But as the days turned into weeks he began to pick up the pace, growing more confident—and urgent. With every step he took, his fear that he would never see another human being seemed to become more real.

  The landscape alone was enough to make Ornias want to turn around and run back to his cave. All the vegetation had been destroyed. Enormous trees had been uprooted, leaving deep pits in the earth. The mountains, before so idyllic in their symmetry, now looked broken and irregular. Ragged rocks, trees and other debris were scattered about. Everything had been tainted by the dark hand of death.

  These sights produced such a sense of desolation in Ornias that he often wept.

  Yet there was life! Small shoots were already beginning to emerge from the rich, brown earth. Occasionally a bird flew overhead. This gave Ornias hope that other life forms might have survived as well.

  Weeks passed. Ornias followed a stream, meandering down the mountain with the rushing water as his only companion.

  He smelled them long before he could hear or see them. It had never occurred to him that humans had a scent entirely their own, but there it was, sharp, definitive and conspicuous. He couldn’t even pinpoint what it was, exactly, that he was smelling, although he spent hours analyzing it as he worked his way toward it. He decided, at last, that it was the smell of order. As he drew nearer, the scent changed and grew more distinct, separating into individual, more recognizable smells. Foremost among them was smoke from their fire.

  Ornias had no idea where he was, but a strange calm came over him as he followed the stream downward. There were other survivors!

  It was several days before he actually heard them. Distant sounds, as fleeting as dreams, came wafting toward him, laced with the aroma of their mid-day meal. He thrilled at the sound, even as his stomach jumped at the smell of their food. But he was suddenly cautious. New fears arose. What if they rejected him? They may even try to kill him!

  By the time Ornias finally reached the camp he was too afraid to approach. He hung back in the distance to spy on them. The first thing he noticed was how large the site was, and how well situated, in a small valley near the stream, protected on all sides by mountains. As Ornias circled the camp through the thick debris that surrounded it, he saw that in the side of one of the mountains was an enormous boat. It appeared to have been badly damaged when it struck the mountain. The sheer size of the boat convinced Ornias that the people it had delivered to this place were giants, like him. But he still wasn’t assured of the welcome he would receive. And too, having been alone for so long, he was suddenly afraid of other people. He decided to hang back a little longer.

  Ornias made a bed for himself out of the debris and fell asleep to the unfamiliar sounds of human activity just beyond where he lay. He slept well, but then woke to find a giant face staring down at him. It was a pleasant enough face, and it was filled with astonishment.

  Ornias sat up cautiously. He hadn’t used his voice in so long that he found it hard to speak.

  “I survived the war,” he croaked. He knew he sounded like something that might come out of a swamp and shuddered to think what he must look like. “And I am alone,” he added unnecessarily.

  It took the giant a minute to recover from his surprise. “How on earth did you survive?” he asked. Ornias pondered his language, and decided it sounded a little like that of the people who had lived to the west of the Haltamti.

  Ornias pointed upwards. “I was in the mountain,” he said, clearing his throat several times from the effort of talking again. “The water didn’t reach me up there.”

  “You climbed to the top?” asked the man, incredulous.

  “Pretty near.”

  The man eyed
him curiously. “Where are you from?” he asked.

  “I’m from the land of the Haltamti…west of here.” Ornias paused, uncertain about how much to tell the stranger. “Our village was to the east of the Twin Rivers.” He was still speaking in his native tongue. Though he understood the foreigner’s language, he was slow to pick it up—as was often the case with Nephilim who were several generations out.

  “I’ve never heard of the Haltamti,” the giant replied amiably. “We’re from Kiriath Arba…which is west of the Twin Rivers.”

  “I’m Ornias.”

  “I’m Anak,” replied the stranger.

  “I can take care of myself well enough,” Ornias told him. “But I am in dire need of companionship.”

  This made Anak laugh. “How long were you up there in that mountain?”

  “I think it’s been almost a year,” Ornias told him. “Maybe longer. It seems like forever.”

  “It’s kind of hard to tell at the moment, but I’m guessing there’s a young man somewhere under all that dirt?” ventured Anak.

  Ornias was suddenly embarrassed. He couldn’t help being intimidated by the giant. They had all but survived the end of the world and he might have been enjoying a mid-day walk outside the king’s palace! He was clean and elaborately attired in the manner of a man of great importance.

  “There’s a river just beyond that ridge,” Anak told him, trying hard not to laugh. “I’ll get you something less…hairy to wear and meet you down there.”

  But when Anak returned he was accompanied by a dour faced giant who didn’t look in the least bit pleased to see Ornias. Ornias was grateful for the clothes and dressed quickly.