The Silent One: Sinners And Saints (Book 3) *Undergoing Editing*

A Watcher

(Ceciellia's POV)

Tara was still asleep, and the children were off playing. I was standing in the kitchen, brewing the antidote for Anna. It was almost complete. I had all but one ingredient, a lock of hair from Anna's own head. After putting a lid on the brewing concauction, I decided to take a break, and check on the children. When I entered the living room, Emma was sitting on the floor, watching Tara as she slept.

"Emma, sweetie, what are you doing?" I asked as I got closer.

She didn't bother to look at me, as she remained silent. I touched her shoulder, and still no movement. I moved her head gently, until I could see her face. When I did that, I could see that her eyes where completely white. They almost seemed to glow. There wasn't even any pupils. It was so pure and innocent looking, as if I were looking into her soul.

"Emma!" I said panicky.

The color began to return to her eyes, and I let out a sigh of relief. I hugged her tightly, as I ran my hand through her hair. It was unlike anything I had ever seen.

"Grandma, she's glowing," Emma said as she looked up at me.

I followed her gaze, as she returned her eyes to Tara. There was no light that I could see. I was honestly confused.

"There's no light, Emma. What are you talking about?" I asked, as I felt her forehead.

She wasn't burning up, if anything she was cold. I stood up, before gently pulling Emma to her feet.

"Why don't I make you some soup, Emma?" I asked, as I guided her toward the kitchen.

When I looked down at her, she was looking back at Tara. I closed the kitchen door behind us, as Emma sat at the table. She closed her eyes, and sniffed the air. Her nose crinkled, as she stuck her tongue out.

"I hope that's not the soup you're trying to feed me," She said as she plugged her nose.

I chuckled, as I smiled at her. She was back to her normal, goofy self. After grabbing some ingredients needed for broth, I turned on the radio. My favorite song was playing. Emma smiled at me, when I held out my hand. She stood up, taking my hand in hers. We danced around the kitchen, and sang while the broth boiled.

She twirled and giggled, as I picked up the wooden spoon. Singing into it, as if it were a microphone. I couldn't help, but to laugh at myself. A thought then struck my mind, and a grin formed on my face. Emma stopped dancing, narrowing her eyes as she smirked at me.

Her facial expression showed curiosity. I lifted my hand, making the silverware cut the carrots and celery for the soup. She watched in awe, as they moved to the beat of the music. I used my other hand, to make the freshly cut vegetables levitate into the broth.

Emma drew closer, and touched the air around the floating objects. She was surprised at the feeling of nothing moving them. I smiled as I grabbed her hand, and twirled her around. We continued to dance and sing around the room, as objects flew around us. When the song came to an end, I sunk into one of the chairs at the table. Emma sat in the one next to me, letting out an exhausted sigh.

With a wave of my hand, the dirty cuttlery and the last of the chopped vegetables, went where they belong. I looked over at Emma, and she looked at me. At first, it was a little snicker, then a moment of silence. After a few seconds, it turned into loud laughter. Once we finally gained our composure, we took a long breath.

"Grandma Ceciellia?" She asked in the most sweet and innocent voice.

"Yes, child," I replied.

"Where did you learn to do that?" She asked as she sat her head in her palm.

I tilted my head to the side, and made a half smile. Unsure of what to say in this moment, I quickly stood up, and acted as if the broth needed stirred.

"Grandma, you can't just show me something like that, and expect me not to ask such a question. What will it hurt if you tell me?" She asked as she slumped back in her chair.

I put the spoon down, before turning to face Emma. Walking up to her, I placed my palms on her face. Staring deep into her eyes. I didn't want to show her something she couldn't handle, or let her down if she didn't possess the witch abilities that runs in my families blood. She seemed to show more werewolf characteristics, than she did of witch characteristics. There was something else too. I'm guessing it comes from Alice's side of the family.

"Emma, there is nothing that I would love more, than to show you this part of me. To share a bond, that I never had with my daughter," I began to say.

"You mean my dads mom?" She asked.

I nodded my head, before continuing on.

"You see, we are all very special. Unique in our own ways. Everyone of us. One day you will understand, but today is not that day," I said with a sad smile.

Emma stood up, and walked away in frustration. That is not what she wanted to hear. When I looked up, I seen Emma push past Tara. She shook her head, as she walked towards me.

"You should've just told her," Tara said as she sat down next to me.

"I am only doing as I am told. The children aren't to be taught about there abilities, until they are old enough to handle them," I explained.

"No! They should be taught at an early age, so they can understand how to control them," She said in an offended tone.

"You seem to speak from experience," I said as I put a hand on hers.

She looked away, as she held back her tears. I could tell she was holding in a burden. Something that she needed to talk about.

"I may not be as old and as wise as you are, Tara, but I am a very good listener," I said with a slight smile.

Just as she was about to speak, we were interrupted by the children. An anxious Ezekiel and Alec, came rushing into the kitchen. They pulled us out of our chair, and urged us to follow them.

"It's Emma!" Alec yelled.

"Something's wrong with her!" Ezekiel said with fear in his voice.

Tara and I looked at each other, before rushing in the direction that the boys were leading us. When we got to Emma's room, she was gone. Or so I had thought, until I heard whispering coming from inside her closet. After opening the door, I looked down at her. She was rocking back and forth, as she drew in her drawing book, whispering to herself. Her head was making slight jerking movements.

"Tara? What is happening?" I asked as I looked back at a surprised Tara.

"She's a Watcher," Tara said as she picked up one of the drawings that was ripped out of her drawing book.

"A watcher? There hasn't been one of those around in a millennium," I said as I studied the picture she had drawn.

To my surprise, it showed myself looking at the picture she had drawn. She definitely was part witch. A pure one at that. Only the strongest of witches possess that ability. To be able to draw the future as you watch in with your own eyes. To be able to master that skill at such a young age, was an incredible ability. She really was more unique than I had thought.

(Pic is of Emma)