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

by Nancy Madore

  “Yes,” he replied gravely. “Exactly like that.”

  “Who are they?” she asked.

  “I don’t know,” he said. “Wayne and I have discussed this many times…especially in more recent years. In ancient times, they considered themselves our guardians. Back then, they visited the earth and pretty much did as they wished. But since the flood—”

  “The flood!” interjected Beth. “You mean that really happened?”

  When Asmund answered his eyes were on Isabella. “Yes,” he said grimly. “I can assure you that it really happened.” He and Isabella just looked at each other for a long moment. It was almost as if they were sharing some silent communication between them. Though Beth couldn’t tell what it was, she could almost feel the sadness between them.

  Beth cleared her throat and the moment was gone. Asmund turned back to her. “Ever since the flood, these angels—or aliens, if you prefer—lost their ability to interfere,” he resumed. “Something—or someone—challenged their rights to this world. Whatever it was that challenged them, it was strong enough to keep them at bay all these years. But there’s a condition. If they can prove that humans cannot survive on their own, they can they step in again and take over. But we have to be on the verge of self-destruction. Believing this self-destruction is imminent; their prophecy focuses on the consequence of it, which is Armageddon. Since they are promising a perfect world when they take over, many people see Armageddon as a kind of rapture—the ultimate reward. But Wayne and I see it as a warning of the price to be paid for destroying the earth.”

  “T.D.M.R.’s activities are that bad?” she asked.

  “Yes,” replied Asmund. “Wayne and I believe that T.D.M.R. has the power to trigger Armageddon.”

  Beth was stunned. She had heard the rumors about what T.D.M.R. was doing, of course, but she had not heard anything like this before.

  It was hard to know what to believe. Isabella told her that Asmund’s soul would obey whoever held the ring, and it appeared to be true. But how did Beth know they weren’t just playing her? For that matter, how did she know that this was a human soul she was speaking to? Wasn’t it possible that ‘Asmund’ was one of these aliens he was describing? Maybe he was the one trying to destroy the earth. She couldn’t help noticing how Asmund kept bringing Wayne into the conversation. Was he using Wayne to manipulate her, or were these references innocent?

  But there was no denying that Wayne was connected to this man. Wayne was on his way to the cemetery to get Asmund’s ring before he was killed, based on a request that appeared to have come from Asmund himself (though he did say that ‘Asmund’ wasn’t his real name). Suddenly the old picture made sense. Had one of their souls lived inside the man they called Lieutenant Brisbin?

  At any rate, there was no denying that Asmund was connected to the ring. If he was not compelled to obey it, why did he and Isabella remain here?

  Beth remembered then that Isabella was still chained to the room. Not to mention that Beth was still holding a gun. But when it came to a human soul, were chains and guns enough to hold them?

  “We need your help,” said Asmund, interrupting her thoughts. “We need to find Wayne. And, as crazy as it sounds, we need to save the world.”

  “Supposing I go along with you on this,” replied Beth. “What are you suggesting I do?”

  “You won’t have to do anything…if you let us go,” he said.

  “I’m not giving up this ring until I find out what happened to Wayne,” said Beth.

  Asmund appeared to accept this. “Okay then,” he said. “I’ll need a body.”

  “No,” said Beth. “I just told you I can’t let you go until I find out what happened to Wayne!”

  “That’s not letting me go,” said Asmund. “I’ll still be tied to the ring. I will remain under your control until you give me those rings.”

  “I’m sorry, but I just can’t trust that,” said Beth.

  “Well then,” he said. “You’re going to have to find Wayne’s killer.”

  “I would love to,” she replied. “How?”

  “They had one of us on the inside,” he said. “A soul that was trapped there against his will. There was a man guarding him.”

  “Ritter!” exclaimed Isabella suddenly. “Wayne told me to beware of him.”

  “Greg Ritter?” asked Beth.

  “Yes,” said Isabella. “Do you know him?”

  “No,” said Beth. “I read about him in the paper. He was killed about a week after Wayne died.”

  “Do you have that newspaper?” asked Asmund. “Did they say anything about how he died, or who he left behind?”

  Beth shook her head. “I can probably find it online but I remember it didn’t contain very much information. Just that it was a random killing, outside his home—very suspicious, if you ask me—and he left a girlfriend behind. I remember because I thought about going to talk to her.”

  “I think that’s a good idea,” said Asmund.

  “I’m not sure what I would say,” said Beth.

  “Just tell her that you lost your husband too,” suggested Asmund. “There are plenty of conspiracies going around about T.D.M.R. Nobody will find it all that strange that you’re suspicious about your husband’s death.”

  “She may feel the same way,” added Isabella.

  “Okay,” said Beth. “I guess I could give her a call and see if she’ll talk to me.”

  “I think it would be better if you were to show up in person,” said Asmund. “It’s much harder to turn someone down when they approach you that way.”

  Beth looked at the clock. “If I recall correctly it’s not that far from here,” she said. “I could go right now.” Asmund and Isabella just stared at her expectantly. “I’m afraid I can’t leave you here like this,” she said to Asmund. He bowed respectfully, and Beth felt a small pang of guilt as she glanced at the second head. She turned to Isabella. “How do I put him back in the ring?”

  Isabella didn’t answer right away.

  “It’s okay,” Asmund told her.

  Angry tears filled Isabella’s eyes, but she began to speak in the strange language. This time, Beth didn’t have as much trouble keeping up with her. Within minutes, Asmund disappeared.

  “I will be back in a few hours,” she told Isabella.

  “You could have left him here with me!” snapped Isabella resentfully. It was the first complaint she had uttered since Beth kidnapped her, and it was not on behalf of herself, but Asmund. Beth’s face grew warm with shame. She knew that Isabella’s head was still hurting where she’d struck her, because she had been unconsciously rubbing it all day. She could have a concussion, for all Beth knew. If Asmund was out of the ring he could at least keep her company. Beth felt like a monster.

  If everything Isabella and Asmund told her was true, then Isabella had done no more than what Beth would’ve done herself.

  But Beth couldn’t get that hunting knife out of her mind.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “I’ll try to get back as quickly as I can.”

  Chapter 39

  Long Island, New York

  Poseidon’s mood was morose. His prominent eyebrows were drawn together in a fierce scowl. But his anger, which seemed more like a feature than an expression, was softened by this new emotion that was only slightly less intimidating than the first. He seemed sullen, brooding. Nadia wondered if he regretted what he had done.

  “The people of Olympia believed we controlled their fate,” he said. “We let them believe it.” He paused, thoughtful. “Perhaps we took credit where none was due, but we helped them when we could.” His eyes flashed as the old anger returned. “I may have sunk a few ships,” he acknowledged. “What of that?”

  Gordon seemed as surprised as Nadia by Poseidon’s momentary break from the self-righteous anger that seemed such an integral part of him. “What about a God?” he asked. “A real God.”

  “I am a real god!” thundered Poseidon, outraged by the question. />
  “But how did you get here?” asked Gordon. “By your own admission, the earth—and mankind—existed long before you were born.”

  “That is something different,” snapped Poseidon. “You are looking for answers I do not have.”

  “Then what is a god, if not the originator of this earth?” persisted Gordon.

  “A god is one who is supreme over all,” replied Poseidon. “The lesser creatures look to a god for leadership. It is to their god that they seek answers—and salvation!”

  “So you don’t know what it is that brought all this about?” asked Gordon. “You don’t know how life began?”

  Poseidon looked at Gordon as if he were an irritating bug he would like to smash. “No one knows such things!” he shouted, clearly annoyed by the question. It was as if he suspected that Gordon was trying to trick him by intentionally asking questions that could not be answered.

  Nadia was stunned. It suddenly occurred to her that the djinn were no different from ordinary men—not when it came to their understanding of how we all got here. And the same went for their fathers, those visitors from far away that called themselves ‘angels.’ They didn’t know either. Lilith and Asmodeous believed that there was a God—a creator who had founded the universe and everything in it. They had been told this by their fathers, Anu and Azazyl. But Anu and Azazyl admitted that they never saw God for themselves. They believed the ‘Others’ were acting on His behalf. But Uranus was one of the Others (or ‘Supreme Ones,’ as Poseidon called them) and his children appeared not to even associate this meaning to the word ‘god.’ To them, it was merely a title to be won, like a prize.

  It was a disturbing revelation that made Nadia feel alone and afraid. She wondered at her reaction. She had never been particularly religious, but it was nice to think that there was a God who created her—and perhaps even a ‘heaven’ for those who were deserving. But if there was a God, where was he?

  What if there wasn’t a God? What if this was all just an accident? What if mankind came into existence the same way the Nephilim had—as a kind of reproductive experiment? This was, to some degree, what atheists believed. But wouldn’t that make the Nephilim the advanced species?

  This much was clear: what it all came down to was power. Like little boys fighting on the playground, each species wanted to be the one to make the rules.

  Nadia brought her attention back to the discussion at hand.

  “When you saw Wayne Timmons, did you recognize the djinn inside him?” asked Gordon.

  “Djinn?” asked Poseidon. “What is this, djinn?”

  “That’s what we call yo…their souls,” said Gordon. “The souls of the Nephilim.”

  “No,” replied Poseidon. “I had never before seen the soul that was in Timmons.”

  “Are you certain that it wasn’t Zeus or Hades?” Gordon persisted.

  Poseidon drew back in surprise. “You think it may have been one of my brothers?” he asked.

  “No, not really,” replied Gordon. “Wayne Timmons was trying to stop what T.D.M.R. was doing. I think Zeus or Hades—if they’re out there—are more likely to be the ones who brought you back.”

  “Zeus!” exclaimed Poseidon. “You think he’s behind Wessler’s plot?”

  “He’s one of three possibilities we have so far,” said Gordon. “From what you’ve told us, it’s clear that he was controlling you. He didn’t free you from Cronus. He simply took the power out of Cronus’ hands.”

  Poseidon actually grew pale when he heard this. Then he whirled himself around so that his back was to them.

  They waited for him to turn back around. Minutes passed without a single movement from him. It was almost as if he had turned to stone.

  Gordon glanced at Clive, who nodded for him to keep going.

  “Did…you ever meet a Nephilim by the name of Asmodeous?” asked Gordon.

  It almost seemed as if Poseidon hadn’t heard him at first. He still didn’t move, but after a moment, they heard his gruff voice. “No.”

  “In all your travels, did you ever visit a land called Canaan?” Gordon persisted.

  “No!” And suddenly Poseidon whirled around to face them again. “Why do you ask me about these Nephilim?”

  “We think that Asmodeous might have known about you,” said Gordon. “Or, at the very least, he knew what T.D.M.R. was having you do.”

  “Is that the soul I saw in Wayne Timmons?” asked Poseidon.

  “No, but we think the soul in Timmons was working with Asmodeous—and later, a female Nephilim called Lilith.”

  “I do not know any of those Nephilim,” said Poseidon.

  “Were you close to any of the other gods?” Gordon asked.

  “Close?” repeated Poseidon, as if confused by the term.

  “Friends?” prompted Gordon. “Someone you could confide in?”

  “Never!” said Poseidon. “They were my adversaries.”

  “Even the women?”

  If possible, Poseidon’s look grew even darker. “Especially the women,” he said, and Nadia wondered if he was thinking of Athena.

  “Yes, but you must’ve had lovers,” said Gordon. “Didn’t you have children with Demeter and Aphrodite? What about Amphitrite?”

  “Bastards!” He growled. “I never acknowledged any of them.”

  Nadia was shocked. She could believe Poseidon capable of a lot—but a deadbeat dad?

  “The legends have it that you and Amphitrite lived in an underwater palace in the sea,” said Gordon. “They say you had a son named Triton, who was half fish, half man.”

  Poseidon looked at Gordon as if he were insane. “What mockery is this?” he queried, as if genuinely perplexed by what Gordon was saying.

  “It’s not true?” asked Gordon.

  “True?” echoed Poseidon. He seemed too incredulous to respond. “This is the work of Zeus!” he accused. “Or that witch, Athena!”

  “So was there no woman in your life?” persisted Gordon.

  This question had a strange effect on Poseidon. The quick-tempered god suddenly turned melancholy again. “I’ve had but one wife,” he said. “She was a goddess unlike any other.”

  “Which goddess was that?” asked Gordon.

  There was a long pause. In fact, it almost seemed as if Poseidon was not going to answer. His voice, when he finally spoke, was low—so low that Nadia had to strain to hear him. “She did not come from the kingdom of Olympia,” he replied.

  “Where was she from, then?”

  Poseidon’s voice grew wistful. “She was from paradise,” he said. “She was my reward for all of my suffering.”

  “Paradise?” prompted Gordon.

  Poseidon’s gaze was fixed on something just beyond the room. “Paradise,” he repeated, and his expression softened, but only for a moment. Then the anger returned. “I had finally found a home,” he said. “Without the games—without the other gods.” He snapped out of his stupor and fixed his gaze directly on Gordon. “And they took that from me too!”

  To Nadia’s astonishment, one small tear slipped down Poseidon’s cheek.

  “Who took it?” asked Gordon.

  Poseidon’s dark eyes flashed at him impatiently. “Zeus!” he said, adding with a vengeful air—“And Athena.”

  “Where was this paradise?” Gordon asked.

  “You will never find it,” Poseidon replied. “It’s gone forever.”

  “But where was it?” Gordon persisted.

  “It rose up out of the Great Sea to the west of Olympia,” said Poseidon.

  “An island?” asked Gordon.

  “Yes. An island more magnificent than even the kingdom of Olympia!”

  “An island west of Olympia,” mused Gordon. “How far west would you say it was?”

  “Farther than any man had dared go before,” said Poseidon. “It was near the two mountains that separate the Great Sea from the ocean that lies just beyond it.”

  Gordon was writing all of this down. “And this island is
where you met your goddess?”

  “It was as if the island, and everything on it, had been created especially for me,” Poseidon told him. “The people were uncorrupted by the gods. They were different from other mortals—particularly the faithless mortals of Olympia. These mortals were innocent and pure. They immediately accepted me as their god and savior. It was almost as if they had been waiting for me.”

  “So you decided to stay there?” said Gordon.

  “Yes,” replied Poseidon. He seemed absorbed in the memory. “There were many islands in that sea, but none compared to mine. For one thing, my island was larger than the others, rising up out of the water like an enormous sea creature swarming with life. It stood off by itself, quietly looking out over the sea as if it might swallow any other island that came too close.” He turned to Gordon with a defensive air. “It might not have been as large as the kingdom of Olympia, but it would become just as great—if not greater!” Poseidon sighed wistfully. “The island truly was a paradise, raw and unspoiled, with everything a god could desire—fresh water, mountains, tree-lined forests and great, spacious plains. And we were protected on all sides by the sea.” His voice held a nostalgic air. “The years passed too quickly,” he said. “But they were the happiest years of my life.”

  “So you set out to create the perfect world,” Gordon encouraged. Nadia’s heart started to beat a little faster.

  “I didn’t set out to create the perfect world,” corrected Poseidon. “I did it! I worked day and night to improve upon nature’s finest work. I opened up rivers in areas that were susceptible to drought, and created channels to remove excess water where there was flooding. I brought forth cold and hot springs, simply for the pleasure they would bring. I brought in vegetation and livestock from distant lands, not overlooking so much as a single spice that might enhance the flavor of the food on my island. I delivered horses and other creatures to ease their burden and bring them amusement. In short, I did everything I could think of to create the ideal world. As I said, it was paradise.”

  As Poseidon described his idyllic island, his face was transformed. The harshness left his features and his eyes actually shone. Nadia could imagine the incredible joy he must have felt upon perfecting his island paradise.