The Watcher

“Where to now?” I asked, approaching him.

The wind had swept his hair into a tangle of curls splayed in every direction, forming a dark, shadowy crown of their own. I reached over to smooth it, like doing so was the most natural thing in the world, and he brushed his hand up my spine. Even through my jacket, a burning heat coursed through me. Touching the back of my head, he found my braid and pulled it out from my jacket. He twisted it between his fingers, examining it, then looked up at me, his gaze open, unguarded, his pupils as wide and black as the night sky. A flush warmed the back of my neck and I stood there mesmerized by him, unable to look away.

Arcing his other arm around me, he pulled me toward him and whispered, “I shouldn’t,” against the side of my face, as though it were a confession. Then, his lips cool and salty from the sea air, he kissed me with such tenderness it made my chest ache.

But I didn’t need tenderness. I needed him. Since the last time we’d kissed, I’d been so careful around him, trying not to cross the invisible line that would either damn him or scare him away. I couldn’t be careful anymore. Gripping the front of his shirt, I pulled him closer, and he locked his arms around me like I’d always wanted him to, like maybe he’d never let me go. Sitting on the rock, he gathered me into him, sliding me onto his lap. My thighs straddled his hips and he let out the softest of moans, his lips grazing my throat, the side of my neck, the line of my jaw, before returning to mine.

With a sharp inhale, he tensed and stopped kissing me. His eyes flashed a warning look—full of fear, as though he’d gone somewhere fathomless inside himself that he’d sworn he’d never go. Standing, he guided me off his lap. When he spoke, his voice took on a deep timbre.

“We’re not alone.”

Chapter Twenty

An oily film of darkness rolled in like a black fog above us, extinguishing the street lights and stilling the air. The breeze from the water stopped, and even the waves themselves seemed to slow their undulations against the rocky shore.

Michael clenched the fleece of my jacket, in obvious pain. Behind him, something black and formless landed on his wings. Only it wasn’t formless at all: it was something whose shape was so terrifying my mind couldn’t process it. It was shiny, fanged, and blacker than the night itself. I’d seen hellhounds before, and minions that fed on negative thoughts and made people do terrible things, but this was different. Somehow it was even more frightening.

“Are you okay?” I asked, unable to keep the alarm out of my voice.

He nodded, but winced as another shapeless creature landed on him.

“I thought these types of things couldn’t get across the halo.”

“My defenses were down.”

The kiss! So it was my fault.

“Can you fight it?” I asked. My throat was so tight I barely made a sound.

“If I move right now, it might come for you.”

I started to back away, but he gripped my arms so I was planted to the spot.

“It hasn’t seen you yet,” he said. “I’ll let you know when to move.”

It? As far as I could see, there were two of them. I stood perfectly still as another creature landed on his wings. My only movement was that of my stomach plummeting to my knees. “Why does it want me?”

“I think it wants me.” Still clasping my arms, he touched his forehead to mine, his body shaking as more of the creatures landed on him—making six by my count. “If anything were to happen to you…” His voice trailed off and I was left to wonder, horrified at what kind of danger he was expecting.

On the path between the water and where we stood, a young couple walked a Dalmatian. Did they notice anything unusual? A chill down their spines perhaps? A pang of fear as they walked through the thick, artificially darkened air? What true horrors had the Grigori held back from us u

Michael gasped, steadying himself as another two creatures landed on his wings. That was eight. Just as I was begi

“This way,” Michael said, ushering me into the bushes.

We stopped near a twisted old tree. Its branches nearly bare for winter, it offered little shelter, but its trunk was thick enough to protect my back. Black forms gathered and surrounded us and an u

I knew Michael would do everything in his power to keep me safe. But what about him? The creatures growled and shrieked behind us in a clamoring approach, and Michael was quiet and still, letting them near. Why was he doing this? I began to think he was sacrificing himself to protect me. I wasn’t worth it, no matter how glad I was that he was there.

In the darkness, Michael’s eyes flamed with golden light as they searched mine. “Is there something you love?” he asked, his body vibrating from the creatures attacking his wings.

“You,” I blurted, surprising myself. Heat rushed to my face.

He gri

“More than myself sometimes.”

That startled him. “Never more than yourself. I’d never want that.”

“I can’t help it.”

He leaned in and kissed my forehead, his lips cool and smooth against my flushed skin. There was a gentle shift in the air as he shook out his wings. “I need you to feel that love, focus on it right now. Not fear, not worry…no matter what you see. Close your eyes if you have to. This thing will try to horrify and fascinate you, so remember that love, okay? It sours the milk. Can you do that for me?”

With the heat of his arms around me, I could do anything. I nodded and he turned, flaring his halo again and stretching out his wings to their full size as though he were in flight. Only this time, instead of luminescent white they were gold, the color of the fire in his eyes.

The creatures that had clung to him fell off in clumps and skittered away. Reaching over his shoulder, he turned, and from his hand blazed his blue sword. At this close range, it appeared to be made not only of steel but of fire and light as well. He held it up menacingly, with a dangerous smile on his face, challenging them.

The sky blackened and thickened, heavy with dread, as more of the creatures arrived. There must have been a hundred of them. The air smelled foul and close, like the inside of a garbage can only a thousand times worse. There was no breeze to dissipate the stench.

Michael stood his ground as the black shapes roiled and writhed, forming a massive single unit. My chest tightened in horror as it teemed and grew taller, forming into a long-necked multi-headed creature the size of a Mack truck. It must have had over twenty heads, each of them with glowing red eyes fixed on Michael, who stared unflinchingly at the center of this black massive creature, presumably where its heart would be—if it had one.

“Be gone!” Michael commanded, his voice strong, musical. I realized this was how it was with the angelic force upon him—a chord rather than a single note. Angel versus human.

The beast recoiled slightly, then let out a ghastly laugh. “Damiel sends his greetings,” it hissed in a wet, glutinous voice.

“You’ll never win, Azazel,” Michael said. “Neither will he.”

One of the demon’s heads nipped at him in defiance. I flinched reflexively, horrified by the damage those teeth could do! Unyielding, he parried with his sword, and the beast rose on its legs, directing its many heads right at him.