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

by Nancy Madore

  Beth removed the ring from her finger. “I would like your opinion of this,” she said, handing it to him.

  The man held it up to his face and examined it for less than a minute. Then his eyes met hers. “Is this a joke?” he asked.

  Beth’s heart skipped a beat. “A joke?” she echoed nervously. “No. Why?”

  “This isn’t worth anything,” he grumbled crankily. “It’s junk.”

  “But…what about those markings on it,” persisted Beth. “Don’t they have any significance?”

  “Significance of what?” he demanded.

  “Well…they look old…don’t they?”

  “My arse looks old too,” said the man, handing her back the ring. “That doesn’t make it worth anything.”

  “Are you sure?” asked Beth, accepting the ring back reluctantly. She resisted the urge to ask him to take another look at it.

  “It’s junk!” he repeated emphatically. “Someone’s playing a joke on you.”

  Beth shook her head. “No,” she said. “It couldn’t be.”

  Seeing her disappointment, the man became slightly more sympathetic. “What did you think?” he asked. “That it was a family heirloom?”

  “Something like that,” replied Beth miserably. She was tempted to tell him the whole story, but it sounded too crazy, even to her. She was looking for her husband’s killer (in spite of the fact that his death certificate said he died of a stroke), by tracing the steps he might have taken (had he lived), first to London, then to Highgate Cemetery and now, finally, to him. ‘Go home and move on with your life,’ would certainly be this man’s advice if she told him all of that.

  The man shook his head morosely. “I see this all the time,” he said.

  “It wasn’t really the value I was concerned with,” said Beth. “I thought the ring might have some…significance.”

  “Well, I can’t really help you there,” said the man, scratching his head. “You would know that better than I.”

  “I mean…mystical significance,” clarified Beth, though she felt a little silly saying it.

  “You mean like black magic?” asked the man. “No, I don’t pay attention to any of that nonsense.”

  “Is there anyone here in Highgate who does?” she persisted.

  “No,” said the man dismissively. “What’re you wasting your time on this for, huh? A nice girl like you?”

  “Well…thanks anyway,” said Beth. She made her way back out of the shop, squinting when she hit the bright sunlight outside.

  Now what?

  She felt profoundly disappointed.

  Shading her eyes with her hand, she looked around. About a half a block down the road, a tavern caught her eye. She stared at it thoughtfully.

  What was she doing here? Wayne was dead—and there wasn’t a damn thing she could do to change that. She had to get on with her life. She was still fairly young, only thirty-two years old. And Wayne had left her well off—possibly even wealthy. Why not start over somewhere new?

  She stared at the bar thoughtfully. One drink, she promised herself. Just to get over the hump.

  But she was already walking in that direction, even before she had talked herself into it.

  Inside the pub was cool and dark. Several men were sitting alone at the bar, separated by stools. She sat next to one of them. The bartender was ready for her.

  Beth decided to go easy this early in the day. “I’ll have a vodka tonic,” she said, and watched as the bartender made it. The first few sips failed to bring comfort.

  “You look like you just lost your best friend,” said the man sitting next to her. She turned to look at him, and saw that he was just making conversation. Like her, he was more interested in what they were serving than who was sitting next to him—and he was definitely several drinks ahead of her.

  Beth took another swallow of her drink. “My husband died,” she said, surprising herself with her candor.

  “Oh!” exclaimed the man, as if thrown off guard by this. “That’s a tough one.”

  “Yeah,” she agreed, already half-way through her drink. She motioned the bartender for another.

  “You American?” he ventured, clearly seeking safer territory. He was not a bad looking man, early forties perhaps, with a full head of graying hair. But he had a few years on Beth in the drinking department. He still had the heart, but his brain was starting to ferment. Beth could see it in his eyes.

  “Alaska,” she said, nodding.

  “Alaska!” he repeated eagerly, as if this were a topic he could sink his teeth into. Beth could actually see him searching the inventory of his mind for some conversational tidbit about Alaska. “It’s cold up there,” appeared to be the best he could come up with.

  Beth smiled. “Several degrees colder than here, that’s for sure,” she agreed.

  “Yeah, how about that?” he said. “Nice weather we’ve been having.”

  Beth finished the rest of her first drink just as the bartender was delivering the second.

  “So what brings you to London?” asked the man, determined, it seemed, to find something the two of them could talk about.

  The liquor, consumed so quickly on an empty stomach, was going to Beth’s head. She suddenly felt reckless. “My husband—you remember, the dead one—I found out he was coming here before he died. Only he didn’t die. He was killed. And it has something to do with why he was coming here.”

  The nice thing about people you meet in a bar—especially the ones who are already drunk by mid-afternoon—is that there doesn’t seem to be anything you can say that will shock or repel them. They’re always ready to understand the bizarre or unexpected.

  “You’re kidding,” he said, perking up. “So have you figured out what he was coming here for yet?”

  Beth shook her head. “I have no idea,” she said, feeling a peculiar affinity for this stranger. “He was visiting a grave over at Highgate Cemetery.”

  “Oh, Highgate!” said the man. “I might have known this would have something to do with Highgate!”

  Beth looked at him in surprise. “Why?” she asked.

  “Dead husband…cemetery,” he looked at her as if she were the one who was drunk.

  Of course, there was also the downside to people in a bar who were drunk by mid-afternoon. Beth smiled. “Anyway,” she continued, showing him her hand, “I found this ring inside the headstone.”

  The man studied the ring, blinking several times, as if to get a clearer view. “You found this ring?” he asked, pointing.

  “Yes,” she said, encouraged by his tone. “Why? Have you seen the ring before?”

  “I’ve never seen anything like it before in my life!” he said.

  “Oh,” said Beth, taking another sip of her drink. “Well, it was at the grave site my husband was planning to visit. Why else would he have been going there?”

  “Maybe the ring’s just a decoy,” said the man. “Maybe you didn’t find whatever it was your husband was really going there for. Maybe he didn’t want you to find it.”

  Beth stared at the man in surprise.

  ‘Somebody’s playing a joke on you,’ the antiques dealer had said.

  Was it possible that the ring was just a decoy—something to distract anyone venturing near the grave site in search of whatever was really hidden there? In retrospect, the ring had been rather easy to find.

  She would have to return to the cemetery and find out.

  “I’d like to buy this man a drink,” she said to the bartender. “And then I’ll take the check.”

  *

  Beth scolded herself for not eating something before going back to Brisbin’s grave site. But it was getting late in the day and she wanted to make sure she got in before Highgate closed.

  The cemetery was slightly busier now, but as Beth made her way to Brisbin’s grave, the visitors grew more and more scarce, until finally she was alone. Feeling a little unsteady on her feet, she slowed her pace. The further out she got, the more uneven
the gravestones became. As well, the ground was covered in moss and ivy, making some of the smaller stones hard to spot. She had to step gingerly in order to avoid tripping over one of them and falling down. Every now and then she looked around for the dark angel who stood guard over Brisbin’s gravesite. She finally spotted it from about three-hundred yards away—and froze.

  There, bending down directly in front of the angel was a woman. Though the woman was facing the other direction, Beth could tell that she was quite beautiful. She could tell from her hair—which was thick, dark, and exquisitely styled—and her clothes, which were expensive and perfectly tailored to fit. A strange fear gripped Beth’s insides.

  Taking one step closer, Beth saw that the woman was reaching behind the smaller tablet—just as Beth had done—in search of something. The ring? Or was there something else there that Beth had missed?

  Apparently this woman missed it as well, because she jerked back her arm in frustration. Then she looked up at the angel and let out a blood-curdling screech. It was a terrible sound, a chilling combination of fury, anguish and madness. It almost sounded…not quite human.

  Horrified, Beth dashed behind one of the taller headstones. Her instincts had been telling her to get out of there from the moment she first saw the woman, but now they were screaming for her to get out. It didn’t really make sense—it was just a woman—but Beth had never felt more afraid in her life.

  She was suddenly aware of the silence. Was she just being paranoid, or had she been discovered? It seemed unlikely that the woman could’ve heard Beth scampering behind the headstone. Who could’ve heard anything alongside of that terrifying sound?

  But Beth knew that she had been discovered. She could feel it. She stood frozen, like a rabbit in a trap, certain that she was in grave danger.

  She heard a twig snap about fifty yards away and wondered what to do. Should she run? She was pretty sure that she could outrun the woman—if it was a woman.

  Beth couldn’t get that strange shriek out of her head. Whatever it was that was slowly making its way toward her—Beth heard another twig snap several yards away—there was no denying the anger and frustration it was feeling. And Beth was pretty sure she knew why.

  Beth quickly slipped the ring off her finger and stuffed it into her pocket. She willed herself to start running, but it felt as if her feet were cemented to the spot. She vaguely recalled thinking that she wouldn’t mind spending her eternity here, at Highgate Cemetery, and it suddenly seemed as if that strange thought might have been a premonition.

  Help me Wayne, she cried inwardly.

  She could feel the ominous presence upon her, like icy fingers on her neck.

  “Hello?” called out a male voice. “Is everything okay over there?” Beth heard footsteps approaching. She tried to cry out but couldn’t seem to find her voice.

  “I’m pretty sure it came from over here,” said another male voice. They were very close.

  “Hello?” called the first man again. “Is anyone out here?”

  “I’m going to check—oh!” exclaimed his friend in surprise. “Didn’t you hear us calling you?”

  “I’m sorry,” replied a female voice on the other side of the headstone Beth was hiding behind. “I’m afraid I was too prostrate with grief to respond.” She didn’t sound prostrate with grief. She sounded smooth and cunning and determined. Beth slunk down even further behind the gravestone, too afraid to show herself.

  “You found her,” said the first man, catching up at last. “Are you okay?” he asked the woman.

  “I’m fine,” she said. “I was just apologizing to your friend. I’m afraid my grief got the better of me.”

  “We’ll take you back with us,” he said. “We were just gathering up the last of the visitors so we can close for the day.”

  The woman hesitated. Beth held her breath. There was an awkward silence.

  “There’s always tomorrow,” said the man. “We really have to get this place closed up.”

  “Okay,” agreed the woman at last. Beth listened to their footsteps as they walked away.

  Very slowly, Beth let out her breath. Then her legs gave way beneath her and she felt herself slipping to the ground.

  Chapter 20

  Manhattan, New York

  “How did it go today?” asked Will. Nadia could feel her face growing warm under his perceptive gaze. In the course of avoiding his eyes, which she’d been doing all evening, she couldn’t help noticing how sexy he looked in a black, cashmere cardigan and jeans. She noticed, too, that his chestnut-brown hair had been deftly styled. Not only had he dressed for their date, but he brought dinner as well. There was sushi and fried rice—and even sake.

  How did it go today? She repeated the question in her head, contemplating how to answer it while casually chewing her food. Let’s see, she thought. My assistant is looking at me like I have three heads and I found out that T.D.M.R. was actually planning to trigger two major faults in Japan the night that Lilith changed the formula…but, all in all, today wasn’t as bad as yesterday.

  “Better,” she said. “Nearly a third of the tickets are sold.”

  “You’re kidding!” he exclaimed. “That’s great! And Georgia? How’s she doing?”

  “She says she’s fine,” said Nadia, dipping another piece of raw tuna into a mixture of soy sauce and wasabi. “I mean…she seems fine too.” It was getting harder to remember which subjects were safe and which were to be avoided.

  “Did you find out what happened to her?” he persisted. “How did she hit her head?”

  Nadia shrugged. “She doesn’t remember.”

  Will looked puzzled. “There isn’t anything wrong with her, is there?”

  “No,” replied Nadia, reaching for the fish roe. “Of course not.”

  “She isn’t a drinker?”

  Nadia laughed. “I don’t think so.”

  “You don’t find that a little strange?” he asked.

  Nadia’s eyes finally met his. “What do you mean?”

  “Well…they find her around the corner, in an obscure part of the public library, disoriented and complaining of hallucinations,” he looked at Nadia expectantly. “No possibilities come to mind?”

  Nadia froze. “You don’t think…,” she didn’t dare finish, terrified that she would say the wrong thing. She’d already said too much, as it was. Why had she included the hallucinations when she told him about the incident with Georgia?

  “We can’t be too careful, Nadia,” he said. “Lilith is still out there. And you’re her only connection to Asmodeous.”

  “In that case, wouldn’t she come after me directly?”

  Will shook his head. “I don’t think so,” he said. “I doubt she would risk hurting Asmodeous’ daughter.” Nadia studied his expression surreptitiously through her lashes. She wondered if he suspected her of anything. He seemed merely concerned. “I wouldn’t mind questioning Georgia,” he said.

  Nadia panicked. “You can’t be serious!” she cried. “It was just a bump on the head…she’s fine!”

  “Did she say what the hallucinations were about?” he persisted.

  “The copier,” said Nadia. “Remember—I told you already—we had an issue with the copier earlier that morning. It must have been on her mind because she told me that that’s what she hallucinated about. Other than that, she really didn’t want to talk about it.” Nadia realized too late that her tone was too defensive. She was acting as if she were on trial.

  Will didn’t appear to notice. “Hmmm,” he mused. “Maybe you’re right then. You two were the only ones who would’ve known about the copier not working.” He smiled at Nadia, and the relief in his eyes caused a lump to form in her throat. “I didn’t mean to alarm you,” he said, reaching for her hand. “I guess I’m being overly cautious.” His voice grew softer. “You see, I feel this strange need to protect you.”

  Nadia was too overwhelmed to respond. So many emotions were running through her. Guilt, fear and alarm
were uppermost, but other, more pleasant sensations were there as well—though she was having trouble identifying them at the moment. She had a strange desire to confess everything and beg him to forgive her.

  No. Not to forgive her. To help her. She tried to imagine what his response would be if she did confess. The image of Will striking Gordon in Alaska flashed through her mind.

  “I know this is a long shot,” he said, changing the subject, “and I’ll understand if you can’t, but as of today I have an entire week off.” He smiled sheepishly. “I would love to spend some of it with you.”

  Nadia gaped at him. Her plate was already full enough with the masquerade ball and Poseidon! “Why this week?” she asked.

  “It turns out that Field isn’t able to start until next week,” he said. “And Clive put in for some time off too, so I figured, what the heck.”

  Nadia lowered her eyes. What would he think if he knew that the little time she was able to steal away from BEACON was already promised to Gordon and Clive, who she was sneaking off to meet so they could conjure a djinn? And not just any djinn, but Poseidon!

  “I don’t know, Will,” she said. “It’s going to be really hard to get away.”

  “I’m willing to work for it,” he said. “I don’t know much about charity stuff but I’m a fast learner. Maybe I could take some of the load off of Georgia.”

  Nadia was as touched as she was terrified by his offer. Of course, there was no way she could allow him to get anywhere near Georgia. “I’ll have to think about that,” she replied evasively. “You know how it is…sometimes it takes more time to explain how to do something than to just do it yourself.”

  “I know what you mean,” said Will. “Just keep me in mind, will you?”

  Nadia smiled. “As if I had a choice in the matter,” she teased.

  Will seemed pleased by her response. “Is that your way of saying that you think about me when I’m not around?”

  Nadia didn’t reply. She didn’t want him knowing how much she actually did think about him in the course of her day. She was a little surprised, herself, by how often he came to mind. She thought about him when things went well—and also when problems arose. She wondered what he would do when she had a difficult decision to make. But mostly she thought about their nights together, reliving the incredible pleasure they had shared through a myriad of delightful little flashbacks. A touch, a kiss, or even just a breath from the night before was enough to send a small shiver of delight through her and put a smile on her face.