The Watcher Read online

  The Watcher

  By

  Lisa Voisin

  The characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, places, or events is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  If you purchase this book without a cover you should be aware that this book may have been stolen property and reported as “unsold and destroyed” to the publisher. In such case the author has not received any payment for this “stripped book.”

  The Watcher

  Copyright © 2013 Lisa Voisin

  All rights reserved.

  ISBN-13: (Print) 978-0-9856562-2-5

  ISBN-13: (ebook) 978-0-9856562-1-8

  Inkspell Publishing

  5764 Woodbine Ave.

  Pinckney, MI 48169

  Edited By . Rie Langdon

  Cover art By Najla Qamber

  This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission. The copying, scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic or print editions, and do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

  Library of Congress Control Number: 2013900872

  Praise for The Watcher:

  Voisin's story builds in strength, easing readers into Mia's first encounter with another realm and drawing them on, inescapably, to the shocking discovery at the novel's heart. Inventive, romantic, and filled with tension, this is a great start to an intriguing series. --A.M. Dellamonica, author of INDIGO SPRINGS and BLUE MAGIC.—winner of the Sunburst Award for Indigo Springs.

  "Perfect for fans of angels and demons, Lisa Voisin has created an uplifting tale of redemption, love, and spirituality that gives hope. Never preachy, The Watcher is the perfect answer to critics who claim Young Adult literature is too dark."--Stephanie Lawton, author of Want and Shrapnel

  "Voisin's THE WATCHER blends paranormal mystery and romance into a book that is sure to keep readers turning the pages late into the night."--Eileen Cook, author of THE ALMOST TRUTH

  “Filled with forbidden love and a war between good and evil. If you are a fan of the Twilight Saga and The Mortal Instrument series, you will love this book.”--Selena Lost in Thought

  "This book was amazing and grabbed me from the very first chapter."--Angie Stanton-Johnson at Twinsie Talk Book Reviews

  “[A] deliciously captivating story, that definitely earned FIVE STARS! “--Iris, from Booksessions

  DEDICATION

  For Matthew

  Chapter One

  I’d never seen a dead body before.

  The man lay on the ground near an uprooted tree stump with his face turned away. His tangled gray hair glimmered like ancient pewter in the late summer sun. He wore plaid pants with muddy cuffs and leather shoes split with holes. His tattered brown coat, stained from years of wear, was far too warm for daytime. Had he been here all night?

  Was he even breathing? Somebody should check. But since I was alone in the middle of a park, at the intersection of two heavily-wooded trails, “somebody” meant me.

  If he were dead, his skin would be cold, but I didn’t want to touch him to find out. I couldn’t help him if he needed serious medical attention. I couldn’t even call 9-1-1. My cell phone was dead on the sofa at home. If only I could call Mom at the hospital. She’d know what to do.

  He could be sleeping. I watched for the rise and fall of his chest. Either it wasn’t moving or my mind was playing tricks on me. I pulled a tissue from my purse and leaned over to place it in front of his nose. Loud cawing startled me. I vaulted, staggered over the man, and almost fell right on top of him.

  Behind me, a crow landed on a high cedar branch and fluffed its shiny black wings.

  “Stupid crow.” I turned back to the man.

  The air chilled. Hoarfrost trickled down my spine, and over the aroma of cedar and damp earth I smelled rotten eggs. Covering my nose, I backed away.

  A sharp pain pulsed behind my eyes, followed by a high-pitched hum. Squinting, I saw a hazy shadow appear over the man, the kind you see when clouds pass over the sun.

  The shadow started to move, undulating at first, then roiling and twisting into a heavy smoke that grew darker, more substantial. Inky blackness folded in on itself like boiled tar, forming first a head, then a muzzle as the darkness stretched out into a neck…body…four legs.

  What kind of shadow does this?

  Then it growled.

  My stomach clenched into a tiny fist, and a voice inside me shouted: Run. Now!

  I sprinted down one of the trails, scanning the forest for any sign of shadows. The path narrowed until it was barely a few feet wide, and the gravel beneath me surrendered to dirt. Soon I was dodging serpentine roots and mossy, fallen logs. Low-hanging branches caught in my hair. My pace slowed. In the dense underbrush, looming trees birthed shadows everywhere, none of them like the one I’d just seen.

  I stopped. Listened. Heard my own breathing and the whooshing of cars from the main road. In the distance, seagulls screeched at each other. Closer were more crows. Perhaps it was safe.

  With a sudden crashing of leaves, the shadowy creature bounded through the underbrush, baring its teeth. Solid now, and huge, it was bigger than any dog, with fur so black as to absorb the light and red eyes that glowed like lasers. I tried to scream, but the air had been sucked from my lungs. I made only a dry rasp.

  My heart hammering against my ribs, I pressed through a wall of branches to an open clearing and made a dash for it. The creature was on my heels, but then it flickered and faded back into the shadows like a ghost.

  Looking for it, I twisted and tripped, bashing my knee. The creature melted out from the branches. Would shadow teeth hurt as bad as real ones?

  I tried to get up, but my muscles trembled and refused to work. White static erased my thoughts.

  As the creature slowly edged closer, sure of its prey, I closed my eyes, sucked in my breath, and, finally, screamed.

  A blinding flash against my eyelids silenced me, so I kept my eyes closed. I heard a strange muttering, a chorus of male and female voices, layers of tones speaking all at once. They were clouded by static.

  “Report.”

  “A breach. I think it’s torn.”

  “Well, seal it.”

  “There’s a girl… No—it can’t be!”

  “We should go.”

  The voices stopped. A silent wind rushed over me, like a tickling of feathers against my skin. When I opened my eyes, everything around me had calmed. The sun shone brightly overhead and the park was empty. The shadowy creature was gone.

  I gulped air into my aching lungs, waiting.

  Across the clearing, at least forty yards away, stood a tall figure in a gray T-shirt and jeans. At that distance, I couldn’t tell how old he was. All I could make out was dark hair, a strong jaw, and the fact that he was staring right at me.

  I nearly hollered at him, but stopped. For all I knew, he could be some kind of stalker who followed girls into the park. Or worse. Maybe the shadowy dog was his.

  Who the hell are you? I thought.

  The guy jolted as though I’d startled him.

  Had he heard me? I hadn’t said a word.

  Instead of speaking, he turned and walked away.

  As I got up, brushing the wet grass off my sore knee and legs, I realized I was shaking. All I had were questions. The body I’d found—who was that? What had just happened? What was that horrible creature? How did it just disappear?

  And most important, what did it want with me?

  Chapter Two

  I arrived at the mall tired an
d sweaty, with my stomach tangled in knots. The parking lot heaved with shoppers scurrying to take advantage of any last-minute back-to-school sales, while mothers pushed shopping carts filled with screaming kids. Even in public, the slightest shadow creeping along the pavement made me jump.

  Inside the mall, my friend Heather lounged by the fountain, checking out the crowds. She waved, and just seeing her sent a flood of relief through me. Dressed in black and white, with her blond hair pulled into a sleek ponytail, everything about her looked crisp and fresh. Unlike me.

  “Mia.” She rushed to hug me. “It’s so good to see you.”

  I swallowed the lump that formed in my throat. I will not cry. “Hi,” was all I could say.

  “I know we texted and emailed, but…” She paused, her smile fading. I must have looked worse than I thought. “You’re flushed. Did you run or something?”

  “Uh, yeah.” I tried to stay calm, but my voice wavered. “Can I borrow your cell?”

  She handed it to me. “Where’s yours?”

  “It’s dead. Can you believe I left my charger in Denver?” My hands trembled as I dialed 9-1-1.

  A woman’s voice answered, “9-1-1. What is your emergency?”

  “I don’t know if it’s an emergency or not,” I began.

  “Oh my God.” Heather leaned in. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine. Really,” I said to Heather and, covering my ear, spoke into the phone. “There’s this old man in the park, and he’s just lying there.”

  “Was he breathing?” the woman asked.

  “I don’t know.”

  “Where exactly is he?”

  I gave the man’s location, adding, “I think he’s homeless.”

  “Okay, we’ll send a cruiser,” the woman said.

  I hung up and handed the phone back to Heather.

  “You found a body?” she asked.

  Before I could answer, Fiona joined us. “You guys, Dean’s here! He just texted, and he wants to hang out.” Smiling, she bobbed up and down on her toes, which made her seem even taller.

  “Now?” Heather asked.

  “Yeah.” Fiona’s cell phone chirped. She checked it, her smile growing even brighter. “He’s nearby.”

  “Well, it’s about time, I guess,” Heather said as Fiona typed her response. “You’ve been dropping hints all summer. If he didn’t ask you out, I was going to ask him for you.”

  “The Dean?” I asked. My mind fuzzy, I strained to catch up. “Dean Wilson? The one you’ve been crazy about all year?”

  Fiona turned to me, as though she’d just noticed I was there. “Hey, Mia, how was your summer?” She scanned my sweater and blue sundress. “Cute outfit.”

  “Thanks,” I said, checking it for grass.

  “You’ve got a twig.” Fiona motioned to the back of her strawberry-blond mane to show me, but when I touched my hair I didn’t feel anything, so she smiled and pulled it out herself. “What happened to you? You look…”

  I knew what the next word out of her mouth should have been. She was holding back.

  My legs still shook, so I perched on the edge of the fountain and contemplated how to explain what had happened. Part of me was screaming not to speak of it. Ever. As though talking about it would make it real. But it couldn’t be. Could it?

  Both my friends were staring at me. My mouth was no doubt hanging open. I needed to say something.

  “I–I’m not sure.” I hugged my knees into my chest. “I saw this old man and he wasn’t moving, and then this dog came at me. At least I think it was a dog.” What else could it have been? Remembering its red eyes, the way its form flickered and disappeared, I shuddered.

  “Are you okay?” asked Fiona. I’d spaced out again.

  I nodded.

  “What kind of dog?” Heather asked.

  What kind of dog, indeed. “It was huge and black, with a long muzzle, like Anubis.” I knew my reference was strange, but Heather had seen enough Egyptian art at my place to know what I meant.

  Fiona sat beside me and smoothed the hem of her denim miniskirt. “Maybe it was a bear.”

  Heather was her usual skeptical self. “A bear? In West Seattle?”

  “Yeah. I saw this movie last week. It was set in New York after the apocalypse. A bear took over the city and started to eat people.”

  “Oh my God, Fiona. Apocalypse? You don’t believe those horror movies you watch, do you?” Heather asked, hands on her hips.

  Until this morning, I would have agreed with her. But what I saw could have come from a horror film. Not a bear, though. Something told me this thing was much worse. The memory of it receded, hazy now, as though I were recalling a nightmare.

  “Of course I don’t.” Fiona crossed her long, lanky arms, ready to scrap. “How can you be sure it wasn’t a bear? Wild animals are displaced all the time by deforestation.”

  “It’s probably a stray.” Heather turned her attention back to me. “What would make it attack you?”

  “I wasn’t carrying dog treats, if that’s what you mean.” I meant it as a joke, but there was an edge to my voice. The entire experience had been surreal. How could I ever explain the way that shadow had formed over the old man? “Can we talk about something else?”

  No longer paying attention, Fiona played with her hair and glanced around, no doubt looking for Dean.

  Heather pulled a large envelope out of her bag and handed it to me. “Here. I found it at a shop in the U district—welcome back.”

  “Wow. Thanks,” I said. My hands shook as I opened it, but if Heather noticed, she didn’t say anything.

  Inside, on a piece of thin vellum paper, was a black and white design of angel wings, each feather meticulously outlined and shaded. They would fit perfectly between my shoulder blades.

  “It’s temporary. Goes on matte, the kind they use in the movies.”

  “They’re amazing, Heather,” I said, hugging her. “Thank you.” I’d wanted wings tattooed on my back ever since I first dreamt about them in the tenth grade. But my mom wouldn’t let me get them, not until I was at least eighteen.

  “A real tattoo is so permanent,” Heather said.

  “That’s the whole point,” I said, remembering the wings in my dream. Huge and white, they shimmered in the darkness. Someone was always trying to steal them. “They’d become a part of me.” No one could take them away.

  Fiona turned back to me. “How was Denver?” she asked. “Did you have a nice visit with your dad?”

  “All right.” I shrugged. “He worked a lot, as usual.” More like he was avoiding me. I hadn’t been back in over a year, since Mom and I moved away. This was supposed to be our chance to catch up, but I hardly saw him. He couldn’t even make time to drive me to the airport.

  “Well, it’s good to have you back,” Fiona said. Her attention kept shifting to some guy in the food court. He had caramel-colored hair. When he turned around and waved, I realized it was Dean. I didn’t remember his hair being so light.

  Fiona waved back at him and said, “I should go.”

  Heather rolled something cherry-scented on her lips. “Text me if you want to meet up later,” she said. When she finished glossing, she reached an arm around my back and pulled a dead leaf from my long, tangled brown hair. “I brought a brush. Let’s get you tidied up.”

  Before I could even think about how many strangers had seen me in this state, she had me back on my feet, hurtling into the crowds.

  ***

  Our next stop, the food court, buzzed like an upset hornet’s nest. It was even shaped like one: circular with at least a dozen vendors along the outside. Inside, a large seating area wrapped itself around a small cluster of palm trees, and a high, Pantheon-shaped glass dome bled direct sunlight on everyone eating below.

  Heather rushed off to get herself a smoothie and find us an empty table, but I had no idea what I wanted. I must have walked the perimeter three times before settling on some onion rings and a cola. After I ordered, the woman work
ing the counter gave me a number and told me to wait, so I searched the rotunda for Heather.

  Instead, I spotted a tall, broad-shouldered guy with wavy dark hair standing with his back against one of the palm trees. As he scanned the area with a steady, watchful gaze, I noticed his hair, his size, his gray T-shirt and jeans.

  The guy from the park!

  Instinctively, I ducked behind the garbage station so he couldn’t see me, and wondered what he was doing there. Had he followed me? He was younger than I’d thought, around my age, but that didn’t mean anything. Stalkers didn’t have to be old. In the park, he’d been in shadows. Now, sunlight from the domed ceiling caught the dust particles in the air and bathed him in a golden light—as though he were the Persian sun god Mithra himself—and for a moment, I forgot everything that had happened.

  It was one of those rare times where I wished I could paint, just so I could catch the effect of that light playing off his skin. His features belonged in a painting too: straight nose, even jaw, full lips that curled slightly at the edges as though something amused him. Under any other circumstances, I might have found him attractive. That is, if my stomach hadn’t kept turning over from the second I recognized him.

  “Excuse me,” a woman’s voice said right behind me. She startled me so badly I jumped. “Number sixty-three?”

  I turned. The woman who had taken my order handed me my food on a teal-colored tray.

  “I called several times,” she scolded, and shaking her head, walked away.

  Wondering if this woman had outed me, I turned back, but the guy was gone. Curiosity outweighing fear, I stepped out from my hiding place. He couldn’t have gone far. Had he run off? Sat down somewhere? Guys that tall usually stood out in crowds, but he had disappeared. When I was sure he wasn’t going to leap out at me from behind one of the palm trees, I went off in search of Heather. I found her sitting at a small table on the other side of the trees.