The Watchers of Eden (The Watchers Trilogy, Book One)

by Edge, T. C.

  I watch as he often finds himself included by the parents, but rejected by his peers. They gather together and laugh at his misfortune. Call him names under their breath. For a day or two I enjoy it, enjoy seeing him taunted and teased as he did to me. Feel some sort of vindication, some karma, for the way he treated me and my friends.

  Then, as the days go by, I begin to feel sorry for him. I watch as he sinks into his shell night after night, as his own bravado is battered down by those he once counted as his friends.

  Each evening, when we return to our room, we say little to each other. And each evening, I wake to him groaning in his sleep. Inside, I know, he's tortured. He tries to hide it, tries to put on a front and display this cocksure, confident presence to the world. Yet in your sleep you tell no lies, and finally I'm starting to learn the truth about Theo Graves.

  That his world, like mine, is far from perfect.

  21 - Visions

  It's been a month since we began our second stage of training. By now it's become clear who has the natural potential to control the Void and who hasn't.

  Link is the shining star in our group. I can tell he's Ajax's favourite too. I watch him go through simulations like they're nothing. Nothing hits him. Bullets, cars, falling debris. He's even gone through a live fire simulation and got through without a scratch. It wasn't even by Ajax's orders, but his own request.

  I'm still not ready for that.

  My own progress has been steady and consistent. I speak regularly with Ajax, who continues to act as my guiding light. He's incredibly passionate about what we do and the importance of developing our abilities to their fullest extent. Yet he remains frustrated with me, and expects so much.

  I think, maybe, he's setting the bar too high.

  I can now control the Void to a point, though, without too much trouble. I'm often able to see things a couple of seconds before they happen, which gives me a good chance of going through the simulations pretty well. It's not enough, however, to put myself up for a live fire simulation. I'm not there yet.

  Theo is the only other recruit who seems capable of seeing into the Void as well. Over the last couple of weeks, he's been much more focused and far less temperamental than he used to be. Finally, I think, he's accepting that this is his life now. That he might as well grow as powerful as possible as a Watcher, knowing that political power and influence is now beyond him.

  I can tell it's something he craves. Power. When you're groomed for a position of influence by two of the most powerful people in the city, you're naturally going to develop those desires.

  For the others, the entire process must be incredibly discouraging. None seem to be able to control their abilities in the same way as Link, Theo, and I. Rupert and Lorna, in particular, try their hardest without getting any real results. On a couple of occasions they might see a bullet firing at them a split second early, but that's about it.

  They curse and shout each time they fail, but Ajax offers them little in the way of support. I quickly realise that he's more interested in nurturing those of us who have shown potential, rather than those who may never develop those powers.

  The evenings continue as before, Theo and I required to attend a variety of social functions with his parents. For the first time I'm beginning to experience the full force of the Eden social calender. Parties, plays, dinners, public celebrations. Suddenly I've been forced into the upper echelons of the city's hierarchy, required to smile politely and observe the city's etiquette on an almost nightly basis.

  Leeta, of course, takes the opportunity to continue my schooling. She seems delighted at my new position and manages to wrangle her own invites to several events. Soon, people begin to know her as my adopted Eden mother, which doesn't sit particularly well with me.

  Yet her own guidance proves invaluable in helping me avoid a host of embarrassing situations. She teaches me what to wear for any given event, the types of make up that are appropriate, how to eat properly without disgracing myself. I think she takes pride in shaping me into a more ladylike Edenite, although I feel I'll never pick it all up.

  Theo, meanwhile, appears to hate these occasions even more than I do. It's like a kick in the teeth every time he has to go to one. A reminder of what he could have been part of. I see his old friends continue to torment him, their under-the-breath insults always so perfectly concealed from their parents. Each night he grows with more resolve, returning to the Grid the next day with a renewed focus. His personal torture, it seems, has become his fuel.

  I see Chancellor Knight once more. It's the official birthday of a Councillor's son, and all members gather to celebrate with him at their home in the Council Chambers. I see him watching me across the room, flanked by a couple of guards. Even in this company, he brings security with him.

  By the sight of them, they look like Watchers themselves. It's the dark, cold stare, those eyes that seem to see everything. They stand, motionless, by his side as he sits in a throne-like chair. He doesn't stand or mingle like the others. No. People come to him.

  Every time I turn my eyes up to him, they seem to already have found me. Even mid conversation with someone else, they're there. Looking at me. Searching me. I feel naked under his stare, completely exposed.

  One of his guards approaches me, and I'm invited to speak with him. Theo looks at me quizzically, one eyebrow rising, but says nothing. I follow the guard, forcing my chin up and a smile onto my face. Etiquette, as Leeta has told me so many times, requires that you smile whenever you greet someone.

  I feel my heart racing when I approach. For some reason I feel so much more nervous than during our first meeting. Somehow he must know, because it's the first thing he references.

  “Don't be so nervous,” he tells me. “Watchers should never show nerves, like they should never show fear.”

  I glance up at the two men to his sides, who continue to stare like statues out into the room.

  “What is it you fear?” he asks me.

  “Nothing,” I say. “Not any more.”

  “So you've conquered your fears, have you? Tell me, Miss Drayton, what was it you faced in the Grid?”

  I search his eyes, so deep you could get lost inside them. Within I see a deep seated malice, like a cat toying with a mouse.

  He already knows. I can tell.

  “Death,” I say, hiding all emotion from my voice. “The death of those I care about.”

  His visage fails to alter. Fails to show any surprise, any sympathy or compassion.

  “So you don't fear death for yourself?” he asks.

  I shake my head. I've never thought about it before in that way. My fears involve those I love dying. My own death has never been a factor.

  “I don't fear anything any more,” I say again.

  He smiles at me. Not a warm smile. It's a knowing smile. One that says he knows I'm lying.

  “Tell me, have you seen any more of your vision?” He lifts up his left hand and waves it slightly. Immediately the two guards step back a few paces, out of hearing reach.

  “Nothing,” I say. I sense a feeling of distrust inside him. Something tells me he doesn't believe what I'm saying.

  “Are you sure of that?” he whispers.

  I nod. “Yes, High Chancellor. I'm positive.”

  A slight grimace flows up his face. “Well, keep searching,” he says. It sounds like the sort of cryptic thing Ajax would tell me. Keep searching. I don't even know what that means. These visions can't be controlled, so how can I possibly search for them?

  Later that night, Theo and I sit in our room. Most nights we share a few words when we return from any social function, and then go straight to sleep. Tonight, however, he seems intent on quizzing me on my brief meeting with Knight.

  I can't tell if it's jealousy that drives him or not. The thought perhaps that I'm now seen to be more important than he is, given my supposed gifts as a Watcher. I'm thankful, at least, that my saving of the ship Adonia hasn't gone unnoticed at the highest
level, although the attention it's now bestowing on me makes me more than a little uncomfortable.

  I tell Theo that that's all it is. That Knight is interested in hearing more about any visions I've had. I don't, however, elaborate on what I saw beyond the Divide. There's still doubt in me as to whether it was anything more than a crazy dream.

  It's still not comfortable between us, though. We spend all our time surrounded by other people, playing at being the happy couple. But under the surface, when we're alone, we hardly speak. It's all a charade, one that Theo's parents have forced him to endure. For all his apologies about how he treated me, for all the apparent changes he's gone through, there's still an awkwardness between us that neither of us are willing to address.

  That same night I think once more of Jackson in my dreams. My mother appears too, and I wake with her watch in my hands once again. They return to me for several nights running, as apparitions in the misty night. They're trying to tell me something, warn me of something, but I can't hear them. Each morning I wake, an uneasiness growing inside me. A feeling that something isn't quite right. That something is being held back from me.

  I return sometimes to Surface Level 8. Return to the same room I locked myself in. The room where Ajax found me. On those nights when we're not required to attend an event, I escape to my secret place. A place no one knows about. A place where I can hide and think and be all alone.

  One night, I hear a knock at the door. I don't answer, hoping it's someone who's got the wrong room. Then I hear Theo's voice on the other side. I open it and see his eyes. They look troubled.

  I step back and sit on the bed. He follows in and shuts the door, perching by the wall.

  “I followed you here,” he says. “Is this where you go when you want to be alone?”

  “I come here sometimes,” I say. “It reminds me of home.”

  Theo glances around the basic room. Sniffs at the smell that fills it from the corridor outside. A few weeks ago he'd have made some insulting, conceited remark. Now he says nothing, although I know what he's thinking.

  “You miss it, don't you?” he asks me. “Home, I mean.”

  I don't say anything. It's so obvious I do. I feel my eyes welling slightly, force myself to look at the wall. I don't want him to see me crying.

  “I miss mine too,” he says. It's the sort of thing I'd roll my eyes at before. But now I understand that he, truly, has lost his home too.

  “You've been speaking in your sleep,” he says. I drag my eyes back to him. They're sympathetic, his words tender.

  “You call for your mother a lot. Did something happen to her?”

  My mother's face fills my eyes. Not her when she died. Not her as she was, withered and broken by her illness. But as she used to be when I was younger. Golden and beautiful. That's how I like to remember her.

  “She died, the night before I was sent here.”

  I glance up at Theo's face. There's a sorrow on it that's so pained, so real.

  “I'm so sorry, Cyra. I...had no idea.”

  He walks forward and sits on the edge of the bed. “I've been such a jerk to you. And you were going through such a hard time. I'll never be able to apologise enough.”

  I reach forward and place my hand on top of his. It's cold, shaking slightly. “It's OK, Theo. You didn't know.”

  “I shouldn't have had to know. I shouldn't have behaved as I did. You must really hate me.”

  I don't answer immediately. Then his eyes lift and search for mine. “I don't hate you,” I say.

  In truth, I pity him now. He's just a product of his world, just like I am of mine. Taunting mainlanders was what he'd grown up doing, what his friends did. It's hard to judge someone when their upbringing is so different from yours.

  I slide my hand off his and back to my lap. Theo's eyes stay locked to the floor, his body slumped forward. I know how he feels. I know what it's like to be so alone, discarded from your home.

  “How did she die?” he asks, lifting his eyes back up.

  “The virus,” I say.

  A frown drops down his face. “But, I thought we had a cure for that?”

  “There's a cure, yeah. But only for those who can afford it.”

  I don't have to tell him that we weren't one of those families. He knows immediately.

  A silence dawns between us. But this time it's not awkward or uncomfortable. Somehow there's a connection between us. A shared feeling of loneliness now, between the two most unlikely of people.

  Eventually he turns to me and reaches out his hand. “It's late. We should go back.”

  I hesitate before taking his fingers. He pulls me gently to my feet, and my hand slips out of his. We walk through the corridor in silence, down passageways and past the underclass of Eden. I watch as Theo's eyes scan the people, his face no longer written in revulsion as it might have once been. Now, I see guilt there instead.

  People recognise him, step to the side as we walk. They duck their heads, so used to being servants to the upper classes. I see surprise in their eyes; surprise mingled with fear. Fear that he'll shout at someone for looking at him wrong. That they'll be punished for doing nothing at all.

  We reach the lifts and ascend to the deck, still in silence. It's late, the sky above twinkling with a thousand bright stars through the clear domed roof. In the total silence, I can hear the ocean. The sound of waves lapping against the metal platform of the city. I think of how long I've been here, so long now at sea, yet I'd never even know it. But now, as the city goes to sleep, I can hear the lightest sloshing of water. The sound of nature, of a world beyond this place.

  Theo tells me goodnight when we reach our room, before slipping off his clothes and climbing into bed. For the first time I see his body, black and blue and littered in bruises. Marks of his new stature in the city, delivered by the boys who now look down on him.

  Before I can speak, he whispers for the light to fade and the room slowly darkens as I drop into my bed.

  That night, my mind tumbles in every direction. Troubled thoughts enter and don't leave. I fall in and out of dreams and find myself waking constantly, the room still dark, Theo breathing lightly in the other bed. I wonder if I'm calling my mother's name, waking him up as I've been doing in recent days.

  I try to stay awake, not wanting to fall back into my subconscious, scared of what I might see, what I might say. But time lingers on, and my eyes drop again. I plunge back down the rabbit's hole, my mind now stuck on a single sight.

  I see a room, dilapidated and dirty. There's a shadow in the corner, sitting on an old wooden chair. The shape of a man, hidden under a dark cloak. He looks forward and down, his head watching something on the floor.

  It's so warm I can almost feel it. Feel the sweat building on my brow. Feel the clammy, hot air creeping up my nose. There's a stench in the air. The smell of rotting wood and decay.

  I look to the floor, where a figure lies on a mattress. A light blanket covers him, his chest rising and falling slowly. Blood stains him, his right arm and abdomen bandaged and covered in crimson. Flies buzz in the air, attracted to a flickering light on the crumbling ceiling. The glow comes and goes, momentarily bringing the man into focus, and then shadowing him in darkness once again.

  I'm drawn forward, deeper into the room. The cloaked man doesn't move. He just sits and looks to the floor, staring at the stricken figure.

  A woman enters, passing as if through me from behind, like a ghost through a wall. She carries a white cloth, dripping wet with water. She blocks my view, leaning down and dabbing at the man's head. I hear the man croak as she turns to inspect his wounds. Then she stands, turns, and walks right through me once more.

  Now I see him. On the ground ahead of me. The face of a ghost, a phantom only present in my dreams. The boy I watched die, over and over.

  But not dead. Alive.

  Jackson is alive.

  22 - A Plan Forming

  My eyes snap open.

  All they take in is
darkness. The sight of the black room around me. Yet in my mind the face of Jackson lingers. Bloodied and wounded, yet alive.

  Alive. He's alive.

  Before I know what I'm doing my feet are hanging off the edge of the bed and I'm slipping on my clothes, fumbling in the dark. I hear Theo breathing lightly across the room and make sure not to wake him. Then I creep, quietly but quickly, to the door and push the button to slide it open.

  The corridor outside is bright, the light spilling into the room. I step through and the door slides shut behind me. Then I'm off, running down the corridor towards the lift. I step inside and hit the button for the floor below. In a split second I'm out, panting as I go, my mind still swirling.

  When I reach the right room I knock forcefully. I wait, listening for movement inside, and hear mumbles. A few moments later the door slides open, the room inside growing lighter, and I see Link standing in his underwear, muscled and strong. His eyes are alert, despite the early wake up call, and quickly grow with concern at the sight of me.

  “Cyra...what's happening? Are you OK?” he asks.

  I step forward, searching for Ellie. She sits on the edge of the bed, hair dishevelled and bags under her eyes.

  “He's alive,” I say, still panting. “I saw him, Ellie. He's alive.”

  The door slides shut with a hiss as the room continues to lighten. Ellie, meanwhile, just rubs her eyes, trying to shake the cobwebs from her head.

  “What are you talking about, Cy? Who's alive?”

  “Jackson. He's alive.” I say again.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean....he's alive! I just saw him.”

  “He's here? In Eden?”

  “No...no,” I say, shaking my head. “I saw him in a vision.”

  Link moves in behind me and I feel his hands on my shoulders. He ushers me towards a chair and sits me down.

  “Are you sure it wasn't just a dream, Cyra?” he asks. “How do you know it was a vision?”

  I don't remember telling Link about Jackson, about what I saw. I suppose Ellie must have filled him in.