The Watcher (Night Realm Series Book 1) Read online

  Shaking herself out of her memories, she jumped up, “Ohh, it’s exciting. Hang on, hang on.” She hurried to the fridge. “I saw this at the store, and I just had to get it. Doesn’t it look great?” Her eyes widened with excitement.

  She held out a plastic container of what looked like, at one point, had been a chocolate cake.

  The cake kind of sat up straight, but the icing had run down the sides and coated the container. It looked tasty.

  “Wow! Mom, that does look good.”

  She smiled sheepishly and shrugged a shoulder, “It was on sale. That’s why it looks like this.”

  I chuckled, “You’ve always said, a messy cake is better.”

  She brightened more and popped off the plastic lid. Grabbing a knife, she cut out a generous piece and flopped it onto a plate and handed it to me.

  “You know my birthday is tomorrow, right?” I said jokingly.

  “You know me, always a reason to get more cake. Besides, I know the cake is the only thing you’ve ever liked about your birthday.”

  Why did this make me feel guilty? She tried so hard. I owed her the truth.

  She cut a piece for herself and licked the knife before putting the lid back.

  I glanced at my mom, "Sooo, I had a small episode today."

  She dropped her fork, "Shoot. I was afraid something like that happened. You let me talk about guys without rolling your eyes. Sloane, it's been weeks since your last one." She shook her head. "What were you doing?"

  "I was in class." I studied her expression. A weight settled around her.

  “Oh, Sloane, I’m sorry.” She patted my arm.

  I pushed the icing around on my plate, “It’s okay. It wasn’t too bad.”

  She frowned, "I wish we could figure this out. There doesn't seem to be any triggers. I hoped they had stopped." She pointed her fork at me, "I still think those doctors are idiots. I don't think they checked everything or took us seriously."

  I shrugged, "I'm kind of okay with not going to more doctors. Besides, it's not like we can afford it."

  "Sloane, you matter way more than money. I'll save up some more, and we will find the right doc."

  "Alright, I guess. I'm just tired of getting poked so much and no answers."

  She nodded, "I know." She squeezed my arm.

  My now empty plate beckoned me, and I licked it clean.

  Mom laughed. "Go relax and rest up. I've got more surprises tomorrow." She winked and started cleaning off the table.

  Pictures of me and my mom that were never straight and hung in old, weathered frames, decorated the narrow hallway to my room. The diminishing light from the sunset cast abstract shadows across the walls and floors. Once in my room, the setting sun peeked through the trees.

  Three walls in my room were painted a warm amber-gold so, when the sun shined in, my room glowed. The one white wall had two equally spaced windows with my bed centered in between. It’s my golden sanctuary. I’m usually a neat freak except when I enter my room.

  I went to my computer and punched it on. My TV didn't have the internet and watching shows on my phone sucks, so the trusty old computer won. Stacks of paper littered the area. Finally, my computer made that wondrous welcome sound, and I sat in front of the screen, ready to watch some Lord of the Rings. Ready to dream of Legolas. Mmmm.

  I’m so pathetic.

  Hours drifted by; it was almost midnight by the time Gandalf the Grey appeared. I turned the computer off. I dragged myself into the bathroom to brush my teeth and wash my face.

  My heavy eyes were stale from staring at the computer screen for so long. I glanced at mom’s closed door and padded softly back into my room, climbing under the dark blue sheets. I snuggled deeper under the covers, in search of warmth. The mattress molded to my body, the thick comforter encasing the warmth close to me. The arms of sleep tugged me deeper into rest until a popping noise sounded beside my ear.

  My eyes cracked open. I cautiously sat up and studied the room. What had caused the noise? Trepidation set in, as the air around me became still and suffocating. The clock in the hall chimed midnight. Ding. Ding. Ding. Ding.

  I waited for the final chime, but it never came.

  The walls of my room began to vibrate and blur. I clutched the sheets to my chest, as I frantically tried to figure out what was happening. What the heck?

  “Mom?” I called out, hoping she would rescue me.

  I had to be dreaming. Each wall crumbled before my eyes, opening to the night. As everything evaporated into thin air, the stars grew brighter. The moon grew bigger. I swear I could have touched it.

  My bed was gone. My house had vanished. I sat on a patch of dried ground; large trees surrounded me in every direction. They towered over me, maybe fifty-feet tall and ten-feet wide. I was in the middle of a dense forest, wearing my sleep shorts, an old Nike t-shirt, no bra, and no shoes.

  Fuck. Shit. What the hell?? What happened?

  My legs shook. I pushed my hair back and succeeded in getting dirt on my face and in my hair. I remained on the ground, listening for any sound. I picked up wood chips and some dead leaves. They felt real, so I couldn’t be dreaming... right? I could even smell the wet earth, and hear nothing but silence. The darkness surrounding me seemed to absorb the moonlight as if this world was a black hole. Don’t animals make noises at night? I stood; thankful, my legs held me. I stepped forward, stopped, and listened again. Nope, nothing. Okay… I took another step.

  “This cannot be happening. Hello?” My voice sounded weird in this strange place. I pinched my arm and raked my nails down both arms. I accomplished making red lines on my arms. Yeah, that didn’t help. I stopped and leaned over, placing my hands on my knees, trying to breathe. A panic attack was on the way. I squeezed my eyes shut.

  “NO, no, no, no. I’m dreaming. This is a dream.”

  Taking a deep breath, I pushed forward, every now and then, stopping to nurse my feet because of twigs and sharp rocks. My poor feet were going to be shredded by the time I found someone or, by the time something found me or, maybe, I would wake up and not have to worry about it. I really hoped for the latter.

  The eerie stillness of the night made my anxiety double. The moon looked like a large, round light bulb. It was easily three times larger than normal. It guided me through the tall, tall trees making my progress much easier. The trees and earth surrounding me drank in the moonlight. Hours drifted by as I roamed. Why did this place feel oddly familiar?

  The wind picked up, rustling the leaves and branches. A bird called out, and something hit my head. Claws scraped my scalp. I screamed and ran. I dove behind a tree and crouched against the base. Birds of every shape and small animals were running from something in pure terror.

  The wind blew harder. The branches creaked and swayed, but I couldn’t feel the wind on my skin. I looked upward, trying to focus my eyes. They pieced together what I saw, but I hoped they were wrong. Large animals raced through the treetops, leaping from limb to limb or flying through the foliage. What I assumed were birds were bigger than any bird I had ever laid eyes upon – they almost appeared to be… dragons?

  Are you freaking kidding me? No more J.R.R Tolkien before bed!

  My dream had just changed into a freaking nightmare. Shit. This has to be my dream.

  My eyes transfixed on the birds above me. The body of the bird was thicker than a full-grown man with a wingspan even greater. A long-tail trailed behind it. Its razor-sharp claws clenched together, gleaming in the moonlight. I stayed rooted by that tree for a long time after the dragons or whatever the hell that was had left. I couldn’t make up my mind if I should follow them or go in the opposite direction. Blood ran from my head, a surface scratch, but man, it hurt.

  In case the dragons came back (my mind boggled at the thought of real dragons), I picked my way through the forest, trying to keep to the direction of the moon, the giant trees loomed over me as I walked in their shadows. I had gone maybe a mile when I heard music playing. Was that B
on Jovi? The notes of “Livin’ on a Prayer” drifted through the forest. This might be my best dream yet. My heart leapt with joy, and I picked up my pace, as fast as my hurt feet would let me, toward the noise.

  A pinprick of light began to be distinguishable through the trees, and the music grew louder. I hid behind a tree and peered out at the scene before me.

  There were indeed people who were dancing and laughing. A bonfire was in the middle of a group of people. They all had varying tints of white skin, porcelain, and almost translucent compared to mine, that seemed to glow from within. They were throwing things into the fire, making it climb higher into the night sky and crackle. Sparks flew and scattered with the breeze.

  “What are you doing out here alone?”

  2

  I spun to face a tall, intimidating man. His face partly shadowed, which made the angles of his face sharp and hard. His cold, angry eyes glared. He may have been a soldier, with thick leather boots, fitted pants, and a loosely belted shirt, all in black.

  “Uh,” I took a quick unsteady step backwards, pressing my back tightly to the tree. I dug my fingers into the rough bark, trying to steady myself.

  He stared at me, not moving.

  “You’re a groundling, aren’t you?” His voice was deep, and a bit rough, as if he might have been shouting commands all day. It was a pleasant voice, although, by his appearance, I didn’t want him addressing me. “How did you get through the barrier?”

  What was he talking about? I didn’t respond right away. I couldn’t keep my eyes off of him. Tall, shadowed, menacing, but from what I could see in the dark, he was kind of handsome. Maybe it was just because he was huge and had a commanding presence? I came looking for people, found one, and now I couldn’t help but think, I wish he wasn’t here. Even more, I wished I wasn’t here.

  He took a step toward me, and I moved behind the tree. He stopped abruptly and watched me.

  His eyes traveled down my legs to my bare feet and back to the top of my tousled and blood matted hair. My subconscious chose this time to remind me of how unattractive I was at the moment, even more than usual.

  He retreated the step he had taken and placed his hands out palm up, showing he wasn’t carrying anything. My brain registered his large hands and how easily they would fit around my small neck.

  “Listen, I’m not going to hurt you. All the groundlings are supposed to be at the camp, not up here. You need to go back to the camp and stay there.” He commanded me. He expected me to follow his orders. Some sort of machete hung from his belt, and something was strapped across his large, muscular back. I tried not to think about either of them.

  I nodded and took a deep breath, “Sorry, you scared me. You came out of nowhere.” I giggled nervously, quickly turned, and walked down the hill. Had I giggled? What an idiot. I shook my head. I didn’t look back, but I could feel his eyes on me the whole time.

  When I reached the bottom, people parted like the Red Sea, giving a wide berth, and watching me. No one said anything; they only stared. Everyone was dressed in black. Their pale skin was a stark contrast to the bold color.

  I was the only one in my pajamas.

  “Hi?” I weakly waved a hand, trying to bridge the gap between alien and species.

  The group parted to where an older man stood. His eyes crinkled with amusement and curiosity. His clothes were made simple, again all black. The only thing sticking out amongst the dark was the big, shiny buckles on his boots.

  “Well, hallo. I thought all the groundlings had gotten ‘ere by now, but suppose not. I’m Brand Bowman.” His voice was deep, gentle, and had a slight Scottish accent. He held his hand out to me. His thick hands were rough from hard work and dwarfed mine. His eyes were bright as he smiled at me. “What’s your name, lass?”

  “Sloane Norwood.”

  “Nice to meet you, Sloane. Glad ye made it.”

  “Made it? Where? Uh, what’s a groundling?” I asked. I glanced around at the people staring. What was going on? How the hell had I fallen into this place? Was I dreaming about being in a cult? That would be a first for me.

  Brand studied me for a moment, glancing at the crowd. “It’s what we call newcomers.”

  “Oh.” I scanned the crowd, noticed several whispering, and pointing at me. My shoulders rolled inward, and my head dipped down, somehow hoping that would help hide me. Heat crawled up my neck again. I needed to get out of there.

  Small and large canvas tents surrounded the fire. People meandered between each tent. Some held small metal cups or bowls. Tall, cylindrical lights were positioned at each tent opening. The lights gave off a white almost blue hue, making the surrounding darkness feel more alien.

  “Yous know what? Why don’t ye follow me?” He held his arm out, indicating the path for me to follow. “Let’s go into the striped tent over there.”

  The crowd of about 50 people parted, forming the path to the tent. An oil lamp hung from the middle pole. A cot stood in a corner, along with a washbasin. The tent was surprisingly clean, including the smooth dirt floor. Brand pulled out two stools and sat on one.

  “Now isn’t this better? Away from prying eyes.” He winked. “What happened to ye head? Yous have blood running down your face.”

  I patted my scalp. “Oh, a bird or something scratched me earlier, but it's fine.” The scrape was tender and a little raw.

  Brand cleared his throat, “I guess I should ask if ye ken where ye are?” He watched my reaction. I shook my head.

  “This,” he gestured with his hands around him, “has always been known as the Night Realm. For most of us, we live and die here. It’s our job to keep watch of the world from this side.” He studied me for a second, “Ye came from the other side, right?”

  “Other side?” I asked.

  He looked confused for a moment before answering, “I’m sorry, lass, what part of the world are you from?”

  “The U.S., Colorado, to be exact.”

  He smiled, “I t’ought yous were American.”

  “Are you sure this isn’t a dream? This seems pretty outrageous.” My voice squeaked and I immediately felt self-conscious.

  “Sorry, lassie, it’s not a dream.”

  “But honestly, if it is a dream, you wouldn’t know it, and you wouldn’t be able to tell me… Listen, I need to get home. My mom will be wondering where I am. My birthday is tomorrow, and we’re supposed to have cake. Cake is my favorite part of my birthday.” Tears welled in my eyes, threatening to fall. I breathed deep through my nose and out my mouth. “I need to get back home.”

  “Lass, it’ll work out, you’ll see. Dinna fash your head about it. We’ll take care of ye.”

  “But if this is a dream, how can you help?”

  He frowned, “Well, if it were a dream, I would know, and the people outside would know.”

  “But, this could all be a construct of my mind.” I watched him waiting for the moment he would agree.

  He only shook his head, “Lassie, if this was your dream, I’d say you’d have a pretty great imagination.”

  I glanced around the small tent, at each piece of mismatched furniture, each with history attached to it, from the small wooden cot circa American Civil War times or before, to the oil lamps swinging from the wood brace in the center of the tent. The oil from the burning wick filled the air with a sweet scent. The music outside still pumped through the campsite. People laughed and talked as they passed us. I looked back at Brand, studying his face and clothing. His hair was thin, with varying shades of grey. His thick arms and legs were heavy with muscle from heavy labor. His portly stomach made his black tunic stretch tight.

  “I have a question for you.”

  “Aye, ask away.” He leaned forward in anticipation.

  “Are there dragons?” My voice nearly squeaked again.

  Brand peered at me, “What makes ye ask lass?”

  I played with the edge of my shirt, crinkling it in my hands, “Things I saw when I first arrived, flying through
the air.” My heart pounded in my ears, remembering what I had seen. “Please, help me get home.” My brain felt like it was on the brink of imploding with all the information and overstimulation. My brain had finally turned to mush. Pretty sure, I had stopped thinking and analyzing so much because of it.

  “I probably won’t believe it until I go to sleep and wake up here.”

  He nodded and smiled again, but this time there was a hint of sadness in his eyes. “Frankly, you shouldn’t be ‘ere, but I’m glad ye came. I need to ask some of the others if they have heard of such a thing.” He paused; his eyebrows scrunched in concentration. He ran his hand through his sparse hair and rubbed his meaty hands together. He brought his eyes to meet mine, “Well, let’s find yous a place to stay the night. Ye won’t be goin’ ‘ome t’night. We’ll figure this out on the morrow.”

  He stood and held the tent flap open for me, where I followed his lead to a larger tent. Muffled voices drifted outside. We walked inside, and the talking halted. Fifteen pairs of eyes stared back at us. Oh, isn’t this wonderful!

  “Everyone, meet Sloane Norwood. She’s going to be staying with us for a little while until we can get her home. If someone could show her around and give her a bed for the night, it would be greatly appreciated.” Brand glanced at me and winked, then pushed me further into the room.

  “You’ll be fine.” Smiling, he turned away, letting the tent flap close behind him.

  Everyone stared at me and didn’t say a thing—nothing like leading a lamb to the slaughter.

  “Hi. I’m Ashlen Tatum.” A perky girl with long wavy dark hair and light green eyes held out her hand. She wore a long-sleeved grey shirt with the ends frayed and a pair of once black jeans that had more of a grey coloring. Thick black boots that she could use to kick in doors protected her feet.

  I shook her hand. “Hi,” I muttered sheepishly.

  She smiled. “There’s an empty bed over here by me.” She led me to a small bed with the covers pulled tight. Everything reminded me of a military bunkhouse; all the beds were lined up along the brown cloth walls, very tidy and neat. Oil lamps hung from the cross beams casting an eerie yellow glow. I almost expected there to be black well-buffed shoes at the end of each bed and a loud talking officer to come stomping through issuing orders. I sat on the bed corner. My toes brushed the dirt floor, while Ashlen sat across from me.