The Watcher

I didn’t know how well they could see, but I didn’t want to take any chances. Avoiding the windows and leaving all the lights out, I grabbed my housecoat and sneaked into the hallway.

I checked Mom’s room and heard her slow, rhythmic breathing through the door. She was still asleep.

Should I wake her and try to explain what these things were? If I did, if she believed me, it would only frighten her. I’d be willing to bet that two scared people were better than one when it came to materializing hellhounds. I couldn’t take that chance, not when I didn’t know how to fight them. Last time I’d encountered these things, Michael had been there to scare them away.

Something twitched at my throat, the necklace from Fatima thrumming as it had around Damiel. Was he nearby too?

Standing in the hallway, I took deep breaths, fighting the urge to panic. The clicking of the old furnace, the humming of the fridge, and the incessant pelting of rain against the roof were almost deafening. Drowning it all out was the sound of my own breathing, the hammering of my own heart. I wished Michael had told me more about hellhounds. I had no idea how to fight these things and I couldn’t outrun them. But the growling had stopped. Perhaps they were gone.

I went to the kitchen and grabbed a big knife. In the dark, I showered and quickly dressed, all the while listening for any more growls and not hearing any. I was so tense that when my doorbell rang, it was all I could do not to scream.

I checked the door. Michael stood there, shaking some of the rain from his hair.

I forgot all about hellhounds. “What are you doing here?”

“Making sure you get to school alive.” He motioned to the cedars in the far corner of my front yard. Behind them, a lone hellhound paced. It was solid, its wet fur matted. Seeing me, its red eyes flared and held mine, sending a terrible chill up my spine. If I’d gone out alone, it would have attacked.

I stepped back from the door. “I heard it this morning.”

“There was another breach last night,” he said. “Damiel, probably, sending spies. That’s just one of them. There are several.”

“Oh,” I said, swallowing a hard lump that had formed in my throat. Seeing him all serious and protective made my heart hurt. “What about my mom? She’s still asleep.”

“We put sigils around your home. They can’t get in.”

“Sigils?” I said. “What are they?”

“They’re a warding system. Symbols we use to keep lesser demons away.”

My limbs transformed into jelly. “It would have been nice to know about that.”

“We just did them.” He looked a bit sheepish, but it didn’t change his demeanor, which made it clear that he was only here on business. He wore a different jacket—waterproof. Good. I wasn’t ready to give up his other one yet.

My attention wandered back to the hellhound. Its teeth were wet and slimy and its eyes blazed with hellfire. The hairs on my neck bristled from the sheer brutishness of it. Like prey, I couldn’t help but stare. It was a creature of destruction, and without a doubt the most horrifying thing I’d ever seen.

“Stop that,” Michael said.

I flinched. “What?”

“Staring at it.”

“Sorry,” I said. His eyes, crystal clear, flickered with light. Just wanting to stare into them as well—but for different reasons—I looked away. “What about school? Should I stay home?”

“We put sigils around the school a while back. So it’s safe.”

“It didn’t keep Damiel away.”

“Damiel’s no hellhound.” There was an edge to his voice—irritation? Fatigue? “I’ve yet to find a symbol that will keep him out. Believe me, I’ve tried.”

He turned to me and his expression softened. I hoped he was going to say something romantic, like he wanted to be with me, or even that he was wrong to push me away. But he didn’t.

“Well, your home is safe, and your school is safe,” he said briskly. “The trick is getting you from here to there.” A wet tendril of hair fell into his eyes and he raked it back with his hand. “Want to take your chances on the bus?”

No. Not likely. I was horrified until I realized he was smiling. “A ride sounds good,” I said.

Grabbing my school bag and umbrella, I took a step outside. As soon as my foot hit the pavement, the hellhound launched, charging right for me. My breath hitched, and in that moment time stood still. The warding necklace pulsed at my throat, and Michael’s halo pulsed a bubble of white flame around both of us, stopping the beast in its tracks. Then Michael drew his sword and sliced through the hellhound’s neck. It vanished into a puff of slimy black smoke before its head could even hit the ground.

From out of nowhere, a second hellhound materialized to our left. Where had it come from? It lunged for my throat. Jolting, I staggered backward and almost fell, but Michael caught me.

He flared his halo around us again and the hellhound backed up, snarling. Testing the fiery barrier, it inched closer, snapping its jaws at me. Michael raised his sword to strike, as another hellhound appeared to the right.

“Get inside,” he said to me.

I turned to make a run for it, when another hellhound formed between me and the door. Roiling smoke blocked my way.

“I can’t.”

“Hold still,” he said.

In a single arcing motion, Michael’s sword sliced both left and right, taking out two of the hellhounds. Smoke, black as coal dust, exploded everywhere. I held my breath. Reaching over me, he slid his body around mine and lunged at the third, piercing its heart. Black fluid oozed an oil stain from its chest. It took a step closer, and with a shudder it collapsed on the walkway before it flickered and disappeared.

Thinking it would come back any second, I stared at the empty space the last hellhound left behind. When Michael stepped into view, his sword was already gone. I wanted to know where the weapon came from, if he carried it all the time, but I couldn’t think of that. Not yet. I was too busy swallowing the bile at the base of my throat and trying to deal with what had just happened. Not knowing what to say, I looked at up him. He always seemed so strong, like nothing could hurt him. After he fought Damiel, I had a sense that fighting was a part of who he was—perhaps what he was here to do. I also knew that a part of him was thousands of years old, but with his hair damp from the shower and curling at his temples, he looked my age and very human. It made him seem vulnerable.

“Thanks,” I said.

He shrugged. “They usually won’t try to cross the halo, but with you here…”

“You used me as bait?”

When he looked at me, his eyes still held all that vulnerability, as though my accusation hurt. “I’d never do that.”

All business again, he surveyed the area before leading me to the car, and it was like he’d put a wall up between us. A cool and formal wall that said he was just doing his job. I wasn’t sure if it was the shock of seeing the hellhounds again or what had passed between us the day before, but something unsettled me.

I wanted to speak but didn’t know what to say. The silence between us grew, and I wished he would say something, anything, to lighten the mood. The cold gray light from the sky made him look paler than normal, and I noticed the stubble on his jaw line, rings under his eyes. He hadn’t been home.

“Did you get any sleep?” I asked.

He shook his head. “It was a busy night.”

“None at all?”

“We used to be called the Ones Who Never Sleep. But sometimes I need to rest.”

“Is that one of the side effects of being part human?”

He gave me a puzzled look. “Why do you ask?”

“Arielle said something about it.”

“She did, did she?” He smiled at that. “When?”

“Last night. She wanted to see if I was okay.” Everything she’d told me was too wondrous, too strange. I was still processing. I had huge pangs of guilt for wanting him so much, but I needed him to know that kissing me hadn’t hurt me. “I am. Fine. By the way.”