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

by Nancy Madore

  “I’ll take that as a yes,” he laughed, and Nadia suddenly realized that she was blushing.

  “That’s not all I think about!” she objected, but she was laughing too.

  “I’m okay with it if it is,” he said. “It happens to me too.”

  “It does?” she asked; pleased, not only because he knew what she was thinking, but because he felt the same way too.

  “You wouldn’t believe the things that pop into my head the next day,” he said, sending another little shiver of pleasure down Nadia’s spine. “Of course, in your case, there’s a lot more to admire than just your sex appeal.”

  Nadia was deeply flattered, but she felt a little shaken by this exchange as well. It left her feeling afraid of having so much to lose. And guilty.

  Will got up from his chair, gently pulling her up with him. He took Nadia’s face in his hands and gently kissed her lips.

  “Now that’s hot,” he murmured seductively, licking his lips. “Tastes like…wasabi.”

  Nadia laughed.

  “Come with me,” he said, leading her toward the bedroom. “We’ll make some more memories.”

  Chapter 21

  Tacoma International Airport

  Seattle, Washington

  Beth was pretty sure she was being followed. She could feel it. She had a sixth sense about these things and—until the incident at the cemetery—she’d always been the sort of person who kept her wits about her in a crisis. She was always able to respond.

  So what happened at the cemetery? It was almost as if she’d fallen under some kind of spell. All of a sudden she couldn’t move. That had never happened to her before, not even in the worst circumstances—and she’d witnessed some pretty gruesome stuff at the hospital. But she was never one to lose her cool. Even as a kid she never froze up like that. She recalled the time she stumbled upon an angry bear during a hunting trip with her father. She was only fourteen, but she could still remember the calm that came over her. She had followed her father’s instructions to the letter, moving slowly and methodically, almost confidently, with that strange faith she always had that she could get through anything. And it wasn’t just her cool head either. As anyone in Fort Greely could confirm, Beth Timmons was no shrinking violet. She was tough as nails, just like her father. And she never backed down from a fight. Especially not against some polished up little hussy who looked like she’d freak out if she broke a nail.

  But there was something about that screech—and the eerie silence that followed it—that had turned Beth’s blood to sludge. Beth would never forget how quiet it was when the woman slowly approached—no, stalked—Beth. Like a petrified animal, Beth had stood frozen to the spot. She recalled feeling like a rabbit in a snare. Now, looking back, it seemed more like she had been turned to stone, like one of the statues. But then the feeling had gone away—or most of it had—when the woman left the cemetery with the two men. Becoming more like her old self again, Beth had immediately sprung into action. She had high-tailed it back to the hotel, packed up her things and went straight to the airport to catch the very next flight home.

  Now, as Beth rushed through the Seattle airport to catch her connecting flight, she glanced over her shoulder periodically. Though she hadn’t actually seen anyone, she was pretty sure that she was being followed.

  She wouldn’t feel safe until she was home. Though she was more confused than ever about what was happening, it seemed clear that she was in danger. She needed a plan.

  The trip to London was a mixed bag. Some new discoveries had been made, but they only gave rise to more questions. Who was the dark-haired woman and why was she looking for the ring? And why had the ring been hidden in the cemetery to begin with? Of what importance was it if it had no monetary value, as the antiques dealer insisted (although Beth had already decided that she would get a second opinion on this)?

  Beth would have to find the answers to these questions. Her life might depend on it. But where should she start?

  The answer suddenly seemed obvious. She would have to go back to Wayne’s computer. She would read every single message if that’s what it took. The answers had to be there—somewhere.

  And the dark-haired woman?

  Beth felt confident that they would meet again. In fact, she was pretty sure that that’s who was following her. But why?

  Who was she to Wayne? Was she his murderer? Beth didn’t think so. Wayne’s murderer had searched the house and not found his secret room. Assuming that this was all about the ring—and Beth was beginning to think that it might be—then how did the dark-haired woman know to go to Highgate Cemetery? She had to already have known where the ring was hidden.

  So were they in on it together? Had Wayne planned to meet the dark-haired woman in London? Or had she simply known that Wayne was going to Highgate, and then, when he was killed, decided to go in his place?

  Much as Beth hated to admit it, the scenario with the two working together made the most sense. That would even explain the terrible screech that Beth heard in the cemetery—for it was entirely possible that it was as much a cry of anguish as it was frustration. Perhaps the missing ring was not the woman’s only loss. Perhaps she had also lost the man that she loved. And, in fact, hadn’t she told the men in the cemetery that she was overcome with grief?

  The fear that Beth felt in the cemetery returned, and it suddenly occurred to her that it might not be fear for her life, but fear of the truth about her life.

  Had the last few years of utter bliss been nothing more than a lie?

  She was distracted from these thoughts by a final boarding call at one of the gates that she passed. She picked up her pace.

  Glancing over her shoulder yet again, she couldn’t help wondering if she was just being paranoid. One minute Wayne’s killer was after her, and the next he was having an affair. She would have to control her emotions if she were going to gain some perspective.

  She arrived at her gate with eight minutes to spare before boarding would begin. She couldn’t help noticing that there was a bar right next to it. She closed her eyes.

  No—not until you get on the plane.

  She casually surveyed the other people at the gate while waiting for the flight attendants to give them the go ahead to begin boarding. There were a few dark-haired women, but none that fit the profile of the woman she had seen at the cemetery. She wondered how she knew this. It wasn’t as if she’d gotten a very good look at the woman. But she knew. The woman at the cemetery had a quality about her—a sleek combination of confidence and elegance—that Beth would recognize if she saw it again. Her fear was gradually being replaced with despair.

  In retrospect, there was no logical reason for the extreme fear Beth felt in the cemetery. The dark-haired woman was obviously mixed up in whatever intrigue Wayne was caught up in, but she was no goblin for Beth to tremble over. Physically, she was no match for Beth. But what about psychologically? Perhaps it was not fear of a physical confrontation that kept Beth frozen to the spot, but fear of the emotional damage the woman could inflict.

  When it came down to it, the most terrifying thing about that awful screech was the grief it revealed.

  Were they lovers?

  Beth knew that it was too soon to draw any conclusions. She had to go about this systematically. First, she had to get home. After that…Beth supposed she might actually welcome the opportunity to meet the dark-haired woman again.

  Only this time she would be ready.

  Chapter 22

  Long Island, New York

  “Why those two faults in Japan?” asked Gordon.

  It was mid-afternoon, the following day, when Nadia, Gordon and Clive met up at her father’s beach house again. It was a struggle to get away—particularly for Nadia—but, like moths to a flame, they were drawn to the ‘hidden ones’ and the secrets they had worked so hard to conceal. Nadia supposed it was a little like addiction, because they were willing to risk everything, even hurting the people they loved, just to get ano
ther ‘fix.’ She told herself that it was for the greater good—to prevent something terrible—but she couldn’t help wondering if this was entirely true. As she stared up at Poseidon in fascination, eager to hear the details of the notorious gods of ancient Greece, she couldn’t help feeling the tiniest bit hypocritical. All of the players in this battle for control claimed to have the world’s best interests at heart. Yet they were all at odds with each other. Who determined what was right?

  Poseidon seemed much less perturbed this time around. It was as if he found his new masters satisfactory. Perhaps he simply concluded that they would be easier for him to overpower at some point.

  “I have already told you that Wessler did not enlighten me on their motives,” he replied stubbornly.

  “But you said you were familiar with those faults,” Gordon reminded him. “Wessler must have known that hitting them with so much power would set off multiple earthquakes up and down the fault lines, just as it did in California.”

  “California was different,” said Poseidon. “Each fault has its own capacity based on size and other factors. And you seem to forget that Finley sent a tremendous amount of additional energy into the ionosphere in an effort to destroy the beam before it reached the earth. That increased the force of the beam when it ultimately hit. Nothing like that has ever struck the earth before.”

  “So what was the objective for Japan?” asked Gordon. “What did Wessler’s ten hope to achieve?”

  “They were looking for a catastrophic event,” admitted Poseidon. “But their focus was the strike point. Precision was extremely important to Wessler. He wanted to annihilate the target, but I don’t think he cared much about what happened beyond that.”

  “What do you mean by ‘annihilate?’” asked Gordon. “What kind of damage are we talking about here?”

  “On the measuring device you call a ‘Richter scale,’ he wanted a nine,” said Poseidon.

  Gordon seemed exasperated. “That target, as you call it, comprises over thirty cities and three million people,” he said. “Are you saying you haven’t the slightest idea what Wessler was after?”

  Poseidon raised his head imperiously, as if challenging Gordon’s authority to ask him the same question twice.

  “Had you attempted to hit this target for Wessler before?” asked Gordon.

  “No,” replied Poseidon, and Nadia breathed a sigh of relief. Though it didn’t make the disaster in Fukushima any less tragic, there was some comfort in knowing that the United States was not responsible for what happened there. “But I can promise you that they will try it again,” he said. “And they will keep trying…until they succeed.”

  “What do you know about Finley?” asked Gordon. “They put him in charge of T.D.M.R. in your place.”

  Nadia was surprised to hear this. She couldn’t picture the nervous little man with the shaky voice being in charge of anything, let alone a rogue defense plot to destroy Japan.

  “No,” countered Poseidon. “He is no more in charge than I was.”

  “Do you think they’re using a Nephilim to control him?” asked Gordon.

  “Perhaps,” said Poseidon. “But it would not be necessary. All by himself, you could not find a weaker creature than Finley.”

  Gordon and Clive exchanged looks. It was clear that that was the same conclusion they had drawn.

  Gordon pulled out his iPad. “We have collected over a hundred pictures to show you,” he said. “I want you to examine each one carefully and tell me if you’ve ever seen any of these men before.” He approached Poseidon cautiously, reminding Nadia of the fairytale character Jack, of Jack and the Beanstalk.

  “When you’re ready to advance to the next picture, simply tap the screen here,” said Gordon, holding the iPad up to Poseidon with a surprisingly steady hand. Clive stepped nearer to watch the proceedings as well, but Nadia stayed where she was.

  Poseidon looked at the pictures with interest, but he was quick to move on to the next after only one brief glance. Gordon and Clive exchanged looks, and Nadia could guess what they were thinking. She, too, was wondering how Poseidon could possibly recognize any of the men while scrolling through the pictures so quickly.

  “There!” exclaimed Poseidon, his expression growing darker with recognition. Gordon quickly wrote down the name of the man he indicated. “And that one,” said Poseidon a few minutes later. Nadia was growing curious by this time, but she couldn’t bring herself to step close enough to look at the names.

  It took perhaps twenty minutes for Poseidon to go through all of the pictures, which was remarkably fast, considering how many there were. When he finished, Gordon and Clive stepped back away from him. He had identified only two of the nine men working with Wessler.

  “Who are they?” asked Nadia, unable to wait any longer.

  “Roan Dunn and one of your guys, Nadia,” said Gordon. “Jeremy Nasterson.”

  In spite of the fact that she had submitted Jeremy Nasterson as a possible candidate, Nadia was surprised. Last year, he had been listed among the top fifty philanthropists in the United States. He had started a foundation to support education for children in under developed countries. It was hard to believe that he could be part of a plot that would wipe out so many innocent people.

  “Let me go after them,” demanded Poseidon. “I will put a stop to their plans, once and for all.”

  For a minute there, it almost seemed as if Gordon was actually considering Poseidon’s offer. “Our priority must be to find out how you got into this ring,” he replied finally.

  Poseidon appeared to approve of this strategy as well. He studied Gordon’s face, as if attempting to read his thoughts.

  “We think that whoever was responsible for your capture all those years ago might also be the one who brought you here,” Gordon explained.

  Poseidon bowed his head in a gesture that was either acquiescence or resignation—Nadia wasn’t sure which.

  “You told us that Uranus was sent here to destroy the Nephilim race,” said Gordon. “What did you think was going to happen once you did that?”

  “We would rule as gods,” said Poseidon.

  Gordon looked skeptical. “Did Uranus tell you that?”

  “It doesn’t matter,” replied Poseidon, “because we rebelled, declaring war on the Titans. By taking up arms against our fathers we had cast our lot with the Nephilim race—though we didn’t realize it at the time. We thought we were just creating a better army through which to serve the Supreme Ones. We fully intended to continue the work we were brought there to do.”

  “When did all of this happen?” asked Gordon.

  “Just after the war against the Watchers,” said Poseidon. “The Supreme Ones had underestimated the Nephilim. They hadn’t expected so many of them to survive. They were scattered throughout the world, but the bulk of them were congregated on those islands in and around the Great Sea.”

  “So Uranus created a new breed of Nephilim to kill the children of the Watchers,” concluded Gordon. “That’s what it amounts to, right?”

  “We are far superior to the children of the Watchers,” insisted Poseidon. “Why, they couldn’t even exist in this world without human bodies.”

  “What do you mean?” asked Gordon.

  “We do not need bodies to live in,” Poseidon told him. “We can exist like the Supreme Ones. That’s what makes us gods!”

  “So…when you die?” prompted Gordon.

  “I return to this earth—just as you see me now,” said Poseidon.

  “And the rest?” asked Gordon. “Zeus, Athena...”

  Poseidon suddenly rose up as if stung. His eyes flashed like lightening. “Athena!” he roared. “Zeus! Why do you mention them?” His expression grew dark and suspicious. “Where is Zeus?” he demanded.

  “I have no idea,” replied Gordon, clearly taken aback by Poseidon’s violent reaction.

  “Then how do you know of him?” he insisted.

  Gordon gasped. “Everyone knows about Zeu
s!” he exclaimed. “Everyone who’s ever read a history book.”

  It was Poseidon’s turn to gasp. Indeed, he almost appeared to grow pale. “History book?” he echoed.

  Gordon glanced at Clive and Nadia. “Yeah, you know…the history of the Greek gods, or I should say ‘the legends.’”

  “Those…stories became legends?” he asked, growing more incredulous with every word Gordon uttered. “Tell me the legends!” This last was a command.

  Gordon snorted. “I wouldn’t know where to start!” he said.

  “What do they say about me?” he asked, and, in that moment, he almost seemed vulnerable. It was easy to see that his ego was his greatest weakness, and Nadia turned to Gordon to send him a look of warning but Gordon only had eyes for Poseidon.

  “They call you the god of the sea,” Gordon told him. “Many a sailor has prayed to you for safe passage.”

  Poseidon seemed surprised—and then pleased—by this. It was clear that flattery was the way to his heart. This seemed to coincide with the myths, which painted him as a short tempered narcissist who wreaked havoc on the world when things didn’t go his way. “What else do they say about me?” he demanded, becoming more enthusiastic.

  “Well…,” Gordon paused to think. “You’re mentioned in many of the stories about Zeus and Athena.”

  Poseidon turned ominous again in an instant. “Stories of Zeus…and Athena?” he echoed. “What stories could there be of Athena?”

  “Mostly they come from a series of poems that were recorded in the books, The Iliad and The Odyssey,” said Gordon. “They were written over a thousand years after the fact, but they relate the details of the Trojan War and, in particular, the adventures of a man called Odysseus.” Gordon paused here, but when Poseidon only stared at him in bewilderment he continued. “You’re mentioned in the second book, when the hero, Odysseus, is coming home from the war. You try to destroy him, but Athena and Zeus repeatedly save his life.”