Watcher in the Darkness, Book 3: Imprisoned

Chapter 21

Song's room smelled of rubbing alcohol, which meant she'd recently bathed. Even her tank top was clean, which was a nice switch from the usual. Styrofoam cups stained with cold blood overflowed the trash can in the corner.

Good. Maybe she'd be reasonable, for a change. I took a deep breath then crouched down next to her.

Song's brow wrinkled in her sleep as I traced the bridge of her nose with my claw. I leaned so close, my lips brushed her ear as I said, "Hey. Mean Bitch. Wake up."

Song groaned. "What time is it?" she said without opening her eyes.

I checked her beside clock. "It's a quarter till one. Keep your voice down. I need to ask you some stuff."

Song peeked through her thick lashes, then her eyes opened fully as her face hardened. An instant later, a rock hard fist cracked against my cheek. It felt as though my jaw unhinged and my right eye turned to mush. Flat on my back, a light, lean weight straddled my torso as a sharp point gouged into the underside of my chin.

"How did you get in here, you psycho fuck-nut?" When Song was feeling lethal, traces of a Norwegian accent peeked through in her voice. I was glad she'd been starving herself; I don't think I could've taken her if she was at full strength.

"Holy shit." I was amazed that a woman with only one arm and half a leg could get the drop on me so easily.

"Father Cooper told me what you were going to do to us. As a matter of fact, why am I even talking to—"

I caught her wrist before she could jam the knife into my brain. "Jesus Christ, will you calm down?"

Song's teeth were bared and her expression was fierce like a panther, but I managed to pry the knife from her grasp. I clapped my hand over her mouth as she took a breath to scream. Maimed though she was, it was like trying to wrestle a greased sea lion.

"Song, goddamn it, I'm not going to hurt you."

Song's eyes narrowed as she huffed a sarcastic grunt against the palm of my hand.

"Think about it, thundercunt. If I wanted you dead, I could've killed you a dozen times while you were sleeping. Cold blood is making you useless."

"So, what do you want?" she said, her words muffled but understandable.

"You were a Watcher," I said. My voice was low and everyone else in the Sanctuary was asleep, but Song stiffened as her eyes darted around. This wasn't information she wanted made public. "You spent your life hunting vampires, werewolves, demons, shit like that, right?" My right pinky and ring claw popped off as though they were cheap press-on nails. Mentally, I cursed Gwen. "Look, what can you tell me about hunting revenants?"

Song took a sharp breath through her nose as she gave me a long, unblinking stare. I carefully removed my hand from her mouth and she made no effort to scream. "What are you saying to me?" she said.

Judging by her reaction, shit just got incredibly real. "Have you ever had to hunt a revenant?" I said as I placed her back in her bed.

Song immediately pulled the sheet around her waist, covering what was left of her legs. "No. I don't know of any Watcher that has." She shook her head in wonder. "The glory would've been unimaginable. So, that day, when you and the priest were talking about revenants, there's an actual, real-life revenant in this city? Are you sure it's not some other form of undead?"

She was a little too eager. It was creepy. "I'm positive."

What remained of her body shuddered. "Then humans are getting sick."