Broken (Book 1, The Watcher Chronicles, Paranormal Romance) (5 page)

“I wouldn’t exactly call it spying,” Mason
says, sounding slightly offended.  “We look for anything out of the ordinary which might help us discover how to close the Tear.”

“How long have you been trying?”

“Since it opened.”

“So in fifteen years have you found out anything?”

Mason’s eyes shift away from mine and I instantly know my question has hit a sore spot.

“No,” he finally answers.

“Nothing?” I ask a bit flabbergasted.  “Nothing at all?”

“
We’ve found things but nothing to help us seal the Tear.  We know the answer is here on this planet, but to be honest,” he says looking back at me, “you’re the first real lead we’ve had so far.  At least, I hope you are.”

My grand vision of this group being able to help me find my parents suddenly evaporates.  If I’m the only
real clue they’ve been able to find in fifteen years, maybe they don’t know what the hell they’re doing.

“
You people don’t strike me as being incompetent,” I say.  “You must know something.”

“What we
do
know for certain,” Mason says, “is that the person who made the Tear visits almost every tearer who comes through each year.”

“Is he looking for some
one in particular?” I ask.

Mason smiles like he’s proud I thought to ask such a question.  “That’s what we have been assuming.”

“Do you know if he’s found who he’s looking for?”

“He hasn’t tipped his hat one way or the other.  He only visits them once.  There is never a second visit.  Either he hasn’t found wh
o he’s looking for yet or he has and knows we’re watching him so he doesn’t do anything to make us suspicious of anyone in particular.”

“Who is
he
anyway?” I ask.  “Some genius mad scientist you guys couldn’t find a way to control?”

“Genius, yes,” Mason says, “mad,
certainly.  But not a scientist.  He’s something similar to a Watcher but not quite that either.”

Angela tells me I can roll down my sleeve as she takes my blood to the glass room where her father is
located.  I watch as she walks in and hands him the tray of vials.  Allan immediately sets to work to figure out what makes me so special.

I stand up and button my sleeve.  “You know, it’s going to be hard for me to work for you if you can’t tell me everything.  I’m pretty smart,” I say.  “I might be able to help you figure things out if you give me all the information.”

“In time, Agent Riley,” Mason says.  “Let’s see how things work out first.  Trust is earned not given.”

“Yes, it is,” I agree, staring at Mason.

He grins, hint taken.

“I will need for you to take me to your home,” Mason
informs me.

I feel my forehead crinkle.  “Why?”

“If I’m going to have to be your private phasing chauffeur, I need to know where you live.  I can only phase to places I’ve been to.”

“I didn’t know that
.”

“It’s possible I’ve been where you live just like I was able to phase to your location tonight.  What city do you live in?”

“Cypress Hollow.”

“Never heard of it.  I presume it’s near Tunica in
Mississippi?”

“You presume correct.”

“Be right back,” Mason says, phasing somewhere.

“Would like to say it was nice to meet you,” I say to Nick, “but I
try not to lie if I can help it.”

Nick raises an eyebrow at me.

I hold out my hand to Joshua.  He smiles up at me and shakes my hand.  I get the feeling from the adoring way Joshua looks at me most people don’t talk to Nick like I just did.  I almost feel bad about it but can’t quite make myself feel ashamed enough to take it back.

“Don’t let them keep you up to
o late,” I tell Joshua with a wink.

“
Yeah well, I have my stock of Red Bull handy in the fridge,” he says, giving me a shy smile before turning back to his work.

Mason reappears
, buttoning the top button of his coat which reminds me to put my own jacket back on.  He holds his hand out to me.

“Shall we?”

I put my hand into his and find us standing in the Watcher station in Tunica.

It’s a madhouse as usual on a night like this.
  Most of the tearers are upset, some to the point of being inconsolable.  As I look into the glassed in waiting room, which looks a lot like a police precinct with its array of desks and computers, I see some of my fellow Watcher agents try to consol the tearers placed in their care. 

At the front desk, Albert
, our dispatcher, looks up from his computer screen.  Not being an agent, Albert isn’t forced to meet the physical requirements Watcher agents have to adhere to.  We are all required to maintain a healthy weight and be able to physically deal with the demands of our job.  At almost 270 pounds, Albert is sometimes called Fat Albert by some of my colleagues.  A nickname I have never used myself. 

“Hey Jess,” Albert’s eyes look from me to Mason and I see him visibly flinch
slightly when he sees the scar over Mason’s left eye.  “Who’s your friend?”

“No one of importance,” Mason
tells him, apparently wanting to keep his identity concealed.

“I guess you heard about my accident?” I ask Albert.

“Yeah, Isaiah told us about it.  Said you were all right though.”  Albert
walks to a lock box on the wall and picks out a set of car keys.  He walks back to the counter and hands them over to me.  “He said you would need a new car too.  We already sent out a road crew to clean up the mess.  Can you tell me what happened?  Isaiah wouldn’t go into too much detail.”

“Sorry,” I
reply, truly apologetic. “If he didn’t say much I probably shouldn’t either.”

“Ok, Jess
,” Albert says, clearly disappointed but understanding you should never over step your boundaries where a Watcher is concerned.

“I won’t be around much anymore
.  I’ve been reassigned to another project for a while,” I say, realizing for the first time I won’t actually miss working with many of the people at my station. Albert is the only one I’ve ever considered a friend.

“Yeah, Isaiah told me that too.  Sure gonna miss seeing you around
here,” Albert says and I know he’s sincere in his sentiment.

“I’ll come by
to see you when I can,” I tell him.  “I haven’t forgotten about my promise to bring you some of Mama Lynn’s sugar cookies when she gets them done.”

Albert smiles and rubs his
rotund belly.  “I really shouldn’t but you know how I love her cookin’.  I won’t complain at all if you bring me a tin full.”

I smile at Albert.  “You can count on it.”

I wave goodbye and Mason follows me out the front of the building to the parking lot.

When we get into the new Dodge
Pheonix, the automated system asks, “What is your destination, agent?”

“Manual control,” I tell the computer.

“Switching off automated driving system.  Manual control enabled.  Drive safely.”

I crank up the car and leave the parking lot to head
south down Hwy 61 again.

“You don’t let the computer drive for you?”  Mason asks.

“I don’t trust computers that much.  They’re not infallible.  Plus, I like to feel in control of where I’m going.”

“Can’t say I’m too surprised to hear that.”

I glance over at Mason and see he’s actually grinning at his own conclusion about me.  The expression makes him look more relaxed and I find myself wondering how often he lets himself smile.

He must feel me staring at him because he turns his head to look at me.  I quickly look away
feeling slightly flush for being caught.

“Does it bother you?” He asks
in a low voice.

I glance in his direction
briefly before returning my eyes to the road.

“Does what bother me?”
I ask, not having a clue what he’s referring to.

“My scar.”

Out of the corner of my eye I see him absently touch his only visible imperfection.

“No,” I answer truthfully
, “it doesn’t bother me.  Does it hurt?”

“It did when it was
first made,” he confesses, letting his hand fall back onto his lap as he continues to look at me.

“If it bothers you, why not go to a plastic surgeon to have it fixed?”

Mason lets out a harsh laugh and turns his head to look out the side window of the car.  “It’s not that kind of wound.  I’m the only one who can heal it.”

I have no idea what he’s talking about but decide to let the matter drop.  I feel like I might be
delving into a deeply personal matter that is none of my business considering we’ve just met one another.

I turn off of Hwy 61 onto
Cypress Lane.  The town I live in is small and only has one traffic light and one convenience store.  Being so close to Tunica, the children are allowed to go there for school since Cypress Hollow is unable to sustain one.  As we come to the red light in the middle of town, I slow down and come to a stop to wait for it to turn green.

“What is that?” Mason asks
, confusion in his voice as he continues to look out his side window.

I glance over. “It’s our convenience store.”

“Why does it have those large pink dog paw cut-outs mounted on top of it?”

“Beau just never took them
off when they shut down the dog grooming business after his dad died.  That’s why the store’s called Paw Paw’s.”

I hear Mason let out something close to a real laugh but it
is so short I’m not sure if I imagined it or if it really happened.

The light turns green and I drive through until I approach the street I live on, Willow Bend.

There are no people out tonight because anyone with a lick of sense knows you shouldn’t be out on the night the Tear opens.  The street lights illuminate the quaint neighborhood I reside in with its white picket fenced in homes and Christmas decorated lawns.  I see Mama Lynn’s house at the end of the street and almost reach for my sunglasses.

For years, Mama Lynn and Margaret
Lawson have had a silent duel over who could place the most Christmas lights on their homes and in their front yards.  Since they live right across the street from one another, the end of our neighborhood never goes dark during the Christmas season. 

“Isn’t that against you
r laws?” Mason asks me, looking straight ahead at Mama Lynn and Ms. Margaret’s homes.

“Not really,
” I say.  “I suppose if they lived in the middle of the neighborhood instead of at the end of a dead end street there might be some complaints.  But Mama Lynn and Ms. Margaret have been decorating like that for years now.  Everyone expects it.”

I pull into my
red brick drive way.

“You have a nice home,” Mason says, looking at my house.

“Thanks, I just had it built last year.”

I had to buy two lots to build my dream home but money wasn’t a problem thanks to my parents.  The
large, country style, light olive painted clapboard house with white trim was exactly what you would expect to find in a quiet southern neighborhood like mine.  With its three bedrooms, vaulted ceiling great-room and large kitchen it was a home I felt comfortable living in, and one I could see raising a family of my own one day. 

Mason
gets out of the car and follows me as I walk up the brick sidewalk and steps.  I turn around to face him when I reach the porch.

“What time should I be ready
for you to pick me up in the morning?” I ask, wanting to make our goodbyes on the porch instead of inside the house.

Since he said he could only phase to places he’d been to before, I quickly came to the
decision I would not let him inside my home.  All I needed was for him to pop in whenever he deemed it necessary.

From the look on Mason’s face I can tell he had expected an invitation inside, but he doesn’t say anything besides, “I’ll be here at eight
.  Allan should have the results of your blood work by then and we can discuss what he discovers.”

My heart sinks into my stomach at the reminder.

I nod.  “All right.  I’ll see you in the morning then.”

I wait
until after Mason phases away before turning to slide my key into the front door lock.

“Well,” I hear a strange male voice say behind me.

I whirl around to face a man I don’t recognize.  He’s tall with shoulder length blonde hair and a muscular build.  From the glow of the street lights behind him, I can tell he’s handsome, with lips spread into a smile most girls would probably swoon over, but I’m not most girls.  For the second time that night, I see a glow around someone I have never seen before.  The man before me is surrounded by what appears to my eyes as an ominous black glow.