It was past midnight when the carriage came rattling down the cobblestone streets. There was no moon, and the world seemed darker somehow, as if the stars were further away. It was a clear night, however there was an eerie stillness, as if a storm was brewing, one that would destroy the town without mercy.
The carriage driver was dozing off, his hat tipping forward on his drooping head until it fell and landed in a stagnant puddle on the side of the road. The driver didn’t notice, drifting into a restless sleep, despite his precious cargo. Nestled inside a tightly chained case was the most valuable item he could ever hope to carry; in fact its existence had been a myth until a hooded man flanked by two guards had given it to him, with the strict orders to leave in the dead of night for London, and not to stop for anyone. The driver knew nothing about the so-called ‘book of legend’, however when he was told of the payment he would receive on completion of his journey, the importance of his cargo dawned upon him.
Without his consent, the driver’s eyes flew open, and darted about him. He hadn’t heard anything, had he? It was just the wind, a stray stone clattering from under the wheels, perhaps an owl. But the driver knew instinctively that he had not heard anything, he had sensed it. The shift in the air, the way the earth seemed to sigh about him in an otherworldly fashion. There was something out there.
Having just left the outskirts of town, the driver fumbled for the cane he kept stored at his feet. Made from intricately carved oak with a silver handle in the shape of an eagle’s head, it had proved a useful travelling companion many times in the past; against bandits, thieves and an all-out melee of other desperate men. The driver glanced around himself; however the darkness seemed to envelop him, making it difficult to see more than a few feet in front of the horses. The light of the town was behind him; and it was fading as he drove on. He knew that it would not be long before he would be left in total darkness, alone with whatever was out there.
A stone clattered down the road in front of him, and the driver whipped his head around, searching the darkness for whatever had made the sound.
“Who’s there?” He called into the night, trying to sound more fearless than he could ever hope to be.
Suddenly, the darkness seemed to back off some, and there in the middle of the road, not twenty feet away, crouched a young man. He had both fists and one knee on the road, and seemed to be surrounded by snow. His face was towards the earth, shaggy black hair falling forward to hide his face.
He was shirtless, despite the late-autumn chill, wearing no more than a pair of low-hanging white cotton trousers. His skin was giving off an iridescent glow, almost as if he had a star trapped inside him.
“You, there! Are you well?” The driver called, leaping from his seat and soothing his spooked horses.
When the young man didn’t reply, he took a hesitant step towards him, and then another, and then another, until he was within ten feet of him. “Do you speak, son? Are you well?” The driver’s voice faltered on the last word as he noticed that what he’d thought was snow surrounding the young man was something else entirely. Feathers, pure white, and wilting like flowers, turning black as the air around them.
Before he could utter another word, the young man was on his feet, stepping through the charred feathers which splintered and cracked under his bare feet. The driver noticed that the young man was younger than he’d thought, twenty at the oldest, his black hair a tangled mess and hanging down past his chin. Hard, lithe muscles defined his broad chest and narrow waist, but it was his face that caught the driver’s attention. His skin was deep Mediterranean olive, and his eyes were black as coal. High cheekbones and a strong jaw studded with stubble. His mouth was quirked in a lethal half-smile, and his eyes blazed with mischief and danger.
The iridescent glow wore off, and the driver was left standing alone in the darkness with this beautiful, terrifying young man. He tried to turn and run, but his feet seemed nailed to the road, and his voice strangled him when he tried to shout for help.
“W-who are y-you?” The driver managed to stammer out, and the boy’s eyes glittered with dark amusement.
“Who I am is none of your concern. It is what I want that matters.” The boy smirked, his voice like honey and poison at once.
“What is it that you want?” The driver was visibly trembling. His father had named him a craven, and he was right.
“I think you know what it is I desire,” The angel’s voice seemed to speak directly into his mind. “I want the Book.”
“And if I refuse to give it to you?” A foolish comment, one the driver would soon regret.
The angel’s eyes narrowed, but the dark amusement was still there. He was toying with the driver, as if he were nothing but a wooden doll. So quickly that the driver didn’t understand what was happening, the angel snapped his neck as if it were a twig, and the old man was dead before he hit the ground.
The angel wrenched the chest free from under a pile of nondescript boxes intended to act as decoys, and crushed the lock holding the chain together with his bare hand. Pushing open the lid, he retrieved the bundle of aging papers, rolled them up and tucked them into the loose waistband of his trousers.
He walked away without looking back at the dead man and the terrified horses, but he hadn’t gone far before he sensed it. His lips curled into a cocky half-smile as a second man emerged from the woods on the roadside.
“Danny? Is that you?” The voice was rough and several years older than the young angel’s.
Discreetly, he tucked the Book further into his waistband. “Saxon?”
An older man stepped out of the shadows. He wore the traditional gentleman’s attire of the 1800’s, however his long blonde hair was tied back in a low ponytail and he was barefoot, his coattails torn.
“It is you! It’s been centuries!” The older man, Saxon, clasped the young angel’s shoulders in greeting. Then his face clouded. “You’ve been exiled?”
Danny nodded, but didn’t offer any further explanation.
“Well, it’s great to see you anyway! You’ll thrive down here, away from the feudal laws of that god-awful place.” Saxon made a show of doing the Holy Cross, and then laughed loudly, clapping Danny on the back, his eyes glowing ice blue. “I see you’re already making a name for yourself.” He nodded towards the dead man and his snorting horses. “Fall on top of him, did you?”
“Something like that.” Danny crossed his arms over his chest, an unspoken warning for Saxon to back off.
“Ah, well come with me. I know a place you’ll love.” Saxon threw his arm over Danny’s shoulder and the two fallen angels disappeared into the night.
YOU ARE READING
The Book of the Watchers
RomanceAnastasia has always known she was different. The other kids at school avoided her, and a string of unfortunate coincidences have had her moving across the country her whole life. However just as her life seems to be getting back on track, a mysteri...
