Broken (Book 1, The Watcher Chronicles, Paranormal Romance) (3 page)

“Greenleaf is the Watcher for this part of
America isn’t he?”

“Yes.  I actually thought you were him when you phased in behind me.”

Mason holds one of his hands out to me and I automatically shake it thinking he intends to leave me and search for Isaiah to inform him of my situation.  Instead, I instantly find myself standing in the middle of Isaiah’s office at Watcher Headquarters in Memphis.

I stare at Mason with eyes wide and yank my hand away from his before he has a chance to whisk me off somewhere else.

“I didn’t know you guys could take someone else along with you,” I say, feeling like I need to explain why I might look like a startled rabbit.

“We don’t share the knowledge with many people,” Mason
tells me.

“Why not?” I ask, walking over to the glass wall of Isaiah’s office which looks
out over the Mississippi River, feeling a need to put as much distance as I can between me and Mason.  “Afraid people will start bugging you for rides?”

Mason smiles sardonically.  “Something like that.”

I hear the distinct pop of a Watcher phase in and silently let out a sigh of relief when I see Isaiah’s reflection in the glass.

Isaiah’s eyes are immediately drawn to Mason like magnets to metal.  My mentor for the last year does something I have never seen him do before.  He instantly drops to one knee in Mason’s direction and bows his head.  It’s the first time I have ever seen a Watcher show complete humility towards anyone.

Mason walks over to Isaiah.  His gate reminds me of a white tiger I saw once in a zoo.  Confident isn't exactly the right word to describe it.  It is more like he knows he is the most powerful being in the room but lacks the arrogance usually associated with such a fact. 

Mason steps up to Isaiah and places his hand on my mentor’s head.

“Rise, Isaiah,” Mason’s words are gentle, like he’s talking to a trusted friend.

Isaiah stands to his feet and meets Mason’s eyes.

“May I ask what has brought you here?”  Isaiah’s voice holds a note of uneasy reverence, a warning to me that Mason’s presence bodes danger.

“I came to tell you I’m recruiting one of your agents.”  Mason briefly looks over at me before returning his attention back to Isaiah.

Finally noticing I’m in the room, Isaiah stares at me with a confused frown on his face.

“Why do you want Jess?”  Isaiah asks.

“She just killed a changeling demon without even trying or knowing what it was.  I think she might be useful in helping us solve the puzzle we were asked to deal with.”

“She killed a demon?” Isaiah asks in surprise
, obviously sure he has heard Mason wrong.

Mason nods once.

Isaiah looks back over at me.  “What are you, Jess?”

My temper flares at the question.  “I’m getting really tired of being asked that like I’m some sort of freak.  Isaiah,” I take a step forward, “what’s going on?  You don’t really believe that man from the Hunt’s home was a demon, do you?”

“What happened exactly, Jess?  Tell me everything.”

I tell Isaiah what there is to tell of my story.  He listens to each of my words
closely, like he doesn’t want to miss one syllable.

“Then Mason showed up and brought me here,” I say, finishing a story
that sounds completely absurd to my own ears even though I was the one who lived through it.

Isaiah is silent after my tale which causes me more worry than anything else.

“From your file,” Isaiah finally says, “I remember reading that your parents were taken through the Tear when you were very young.”

“Yes, when I was seven.”

“So they were among the first to be taken.”

I nod.

“Did you go live with relatives afterwards?”

“No.
  The government wasn’t able to find any family on either my father or mother’s side.  I was put into the foster care system like a lot of other kids who lost their parents that night.  I got lucky though and was adopted by the foster parent I was placed with.”

“So you don’t have any living relatives?” Mason asks.

I shake my head.  “Not that I know of.”

Isaiah and Mason glance at one another like what I’ve said confirms something their both thinking.

“What is it?” I ask, not appreciating being left out of the loop, especially when I’m at the center of it.  “What do the two of you think I am?”

“
We’ve only encountered a human who can kill the way you did once before,” Isaiah says.  “Jess, did your parents have any friends who used to come over to the house?  Any work colleagues?  Anything at all that you can tell us about the people they associated with?”

I shake my head realizing for the first time how sheltered life with my parents had been.

“How did they make their money?” Mason asks.

“I was just a kid,” I reply.  “I didn’t worry about things like that.”

“Did they work from home or go somewhere to work?”

I thought back through my childhood trying to piece together what memories I had of my parents.

“I don’t remember them ever working.  I was home schooled by my mother and my father was always in the house.  I never saw him leave home to go to work.  I guess he could have worked from home or something but I honestly don’t know.  What I do know is that whatever they did to earn money must have been lucrative.”

“What makes you say that?” Isaiah asks.

“Because when I turned eighteen a lawyer came to see me and told me I was a millionaire.”

“Why weren’t you given the money when your parents disappeared?” Mason asks.  “With that sort of trust fund you should have stayed out of the foster care system.”

“He said my parents set up the account and conditions of disbursement when I was born.  I guess in all their planning they never thought they would be sucked up by a wormhole and leave me an orphan,” I say defensively on their behalf.

“Even so,” Isaiah says, “all those taken through the Tear are declared legally dead.  All of their financial wealth should have been given to you.”

“They’re not dead,” I remind him.

“To this world they are,” he in turn reminds me.  “All of their financial property should have reverted to you.”

I shrug.  “All I can tell you is that after the government liquidated their assets, I was told I had a little over a hundred grand.  I don’t know why my parents didn’t have more than that in the bank.  All I know is that the government deposited the money they could find in a savings account for me and the bank was directed to make good on the taxes on my parents’ house and land since I refused to sell them.”

“So, you really don’t know anything about your parents past,” Mason states.

“No, I guess I don’t,” I answer, keeping the secret about my father to myself.  I know that’s what they’re fishing for:  the real reason I’m different.  More than likely the reason I was able to kill this so called demon.

“Could either of you have killed that thing?” I ask, doing my own sort of fact finding.

“We can’t kill demons,” Isaiah answers.  “That’s why we’re trying to figure out how a regular human could have.  Has anything out of the ordinary ever happened to you before now?  Can you think of anything else that’s different about you, Jess?”

I shrug my shoulders not willing to trust them completely.  My father told me to keep my secret to myself and that’s exactly what I’ve done all these years.  I’ve always assumed my father would have explained why I could see
‘the truth of things’, as he put it, when I was old enough to understand.  He simply wasn’t given the chance.  But I wasn’t going to divulge the information to them so readily, not until I understood what I was first.

“Not much else I can tell you other than what you already know from my file,” I say and leave it at that.  Lies get more complicated when you try to elaborate on them.  I figure the less I say the safer I am.

Both Mason and Isaiah look at me like they know I’m holding something back from them, but neither seem ready to call me out on my small lie.

“Well, I’ll figure out how you killed the demon,” Mason says, completely confident in his statement.  “In the meantime, I still want you to join my group.”

“Which does what exactly?”

“We’re trying to find a way to seal the Tear.”

“Seal it?”  I look to Isaiah for confirmation.  He nods his head, though something in his eyes tells me he’s not confident Mason will ever be successful in his task.

“How do you intend to seal the Tear?” I ask Mason.  “And what makes you think I can help?”

“I’m not sure you
can
help,” he admits.  “But there is definitely something unique about you and considering the type of creatures I usually end up dealing with, you might prove to be useful to me.”

I feel
slightly offended at the way he makes his statement.  I cross my arms over my chest and automatically take a defensive stance.  “What makes you think I want the Tear closed?”

Mason frowns.  “Weren’t you the one who blamed
God for not closing it just a few minutes ago?  I assumed you would be more than willing to help.”

I shake my head slowly.  “No, I never said I wanted it closed.  I said I blamed Him for not doing something about it.”

“Your logic is confusing,” Mason admits.  “Can you explain exactly what the difference is?”

“I want my parents back.  I can’t have that if the Tear is closed.  If there is a
God, then I blame Him for letting it be put there in the first place.  The world’s got enough problems without having something like that hanging in the sky and randomly destroying people’s lives.”

Mason takes three slow steps towards me.  “What if I promise
I’ll do everything I can to help you find your parents?”

“Mas
on…”  I hear the note of caution in Isaiah’s voice and instantly know he doesn’t think Mason can fulfill such a promise.

“You don’t know it can’t be done,” Mason tells Isaiah
almost harshly. 

“Have you ever been able to do it?” I ask, my arms dropping to my sides
, daring to hope after all these years that I might actually have a way to get my parents back.

“Not yet but
that doesn’t mean it’s impossible.”

I look to Isaiah and see the creases of
his troubled brow.  My mentor looks me in the eyes unwilling to voice the warning I see on his face.  When I look back at Mason, his earnest expression makes me want to believe in his promise.  He is giving me hope.  It might be a fool’s hope, but it’s the only time anyone has ever offered me a real opportunity to find my parents and not just sit around and wait once a year hoping they make it back home to me by chance.

“I’ll help you,” I hear myself tell Mason.  “I’ll join your team.”

Mason holds out his hand as if he wants a handshake to seal the deal.  Without hesitation, I place my hand into his and instantly find myself standing somewhere that isn’t Isaiah’s office.

I’m really gonna have to stop shaking his hand.

“I wish you would stop doing that,” I say, tearing my hand out of Mason’s grasp. “Or at least give me a warning before you phase me somewhere.”

“Sorry,” Mason looks almost amused by my rebuke. “I really don’t mean to keep startling you.  Traveling this way is just part of who I am.  It’s not something I think about.”

“Well
, start thinking about me if you want me to work for you.”

Mason gives me a lopsided grin.

“Do you find scaring me to death funny?” I ask, feeling my temper begin to spark.

“No,” Mason shakes his head
sincerely, “of course not.  I’m just not used to people talking to me like an equal.  Most people feel humbled in my presence, especially humans.  Yet, you don’t seem affected by me in the slightest.”

A fact which seems to befuddle Mason.

“Is that why Isaiah dropped to his knee so quickly when he saw you?  Do regular Watchers feel humbled by you?”

“I’m Isaiah’s superior,”
Mason says with no arrogance attached to the words just fact.  Mason shrugs off his coat revealing a slim fitting black pullover sweater and jeans underneath.

“I didn’t know Watchers had superiors until now
,” I say, finding myself slightly distracted by the way Mason’s sweater clings to his muscular torso as he moves.

“Not many people do,
” Mason says, tossing his coat onto the leather couch we’re standing by.

“Why keep it a secret?”

“Sometimes its better when people don’t know everything.”

“Too many questions?”

“Exactly.”

“So
, where are we?” I ask, looking at my new surroundings.

“My home.”

Mason’s home looks like something you would find a picture of in a magazine titled
Log Cabins of the Rich and Famous
.  We’re in a living room area with walls made from large pine logs.  The outer wall to my right is made entirely of glass acting as a picture frame window but the view is obscured by the darkness of night. A stone fireplace hugs one corner and it’s lit with a blazing fire providing enough heat to keep the room we’re in toasty warm.  The couch and chairs in the room are made of brown leather and there’s an actual white bear skin rug on the floor in front of the fireplace.