Watcher: Book I of The Chosen Page 5

  I tell everyone goodnight and head out the door. The clouds are hanging heavy in the cold air—maybe it’ll snow. I walk up the street toward the parking garage.

  Then, out of nowhere—there he is. He’s standing on the sidewalk about thirty feet ahead, watching me.

  Something extremely powerful radiates from him. Energy, aura, I don’t know what to call it, but I can feel it in every cell of my body, and it’s very disturbing.

  I hesitate, then take a breath and keep walking. He waits, and I slow as I draw near, and finally stop.

  He studies me a moment while fear races through my veins.

  “Would you like to get something to drink?” he asks.

  My mind shies away from what he might mean by drink and I hesitate before answering.

  “A cup of hot tea would be nice.”

  “Tea. That sounds perfect. There is an all-night coffee shop around the corner. Would you care to walk with me?” His voice is cultured, with a hint of European, but I can’t place the accent.

  I pause, then join him as he proceeds up the street. My body and mind are both numb. I didn’t expect to see him again so soon. But apparently he expected to see me.

  We arrive at the coffee shop. He holds the door open, and I walk through and wait as he comes in. Nodding to me, he heads to a booth in the back and I admire his physique as he passes. He’s about six-three, trim, but there are definitely muscles beneath his expensive, tailored suit.

  I’m stirred from my trance as he graciously waves his hand to one of the seats. I make my way to the booth and he waits until I’m seated before sitting across from me.

  The waitress comes to the table and offers us menus.

  “We will have two cups of hot tea,” he says without looking at her. She nods, staring, then walks away.

  She was staring, as I am, because he has the most beautiful and mesmerizing face I’ve ever seen. His features are noble, refined, elegant, his nose straight and his jaw strong. His age is hard to decipher. Physically, thirtyish. But bearing? Ageless. Ancient.

  “So. You are new to the city. How long have you been in Colorado Springs?” His hair is raven black, and his eyes, light emerald green, flicker with intensity.

  “About a week,” I reply, hoping the trembling in my body isn’t leaking into my voice.

  “Tell me, then—where are you from? What brought you here?” His tone, though friendly, seems to carry an undercurrent of warning. I choose my answer carefully.

  “I’m from the West Coast. I decided to try somewhere new, and this area looked like it had a lot to offer.”

  He smiles and nods as the waitress sets cups and stainless steel teapots on the table. We prepare our tea in heavy silence.

  Picking up a spoon, he stirs his and asks, “Are you here with anyone else?”

  I hesitate, unwilling to reveal how defenseless I might be. But then the beast in me sits up and reminds me I’m not.

  “No, I’m alone.”

  “Hmm.” His green eyes reveal nothing.

  We sip our tea.

  He sets down his cup, his intense gaze fixed on me, and, leaning forward, breathes in deeply through his nose.

  “You have a most unusual scent. I cannot quite place it,” he says as he sits back.

  A bit shocked, I stare at him. No one has ever smelled me before, at least not like that.

  Perhaps this is a custom among our kind? Unsure, I discreetly take in his scent.

  It’s quite different from any I’ve ever encountered, yet there’s also something familiar about it. The blood in his veins has an exotic, rich fragrance that’s very alluring. But there’s another aroma woven in, one I finally recognize. It’s the coppery-sweet smell of human blood.

  And it’s carried on his breath.

  I was afraid of that.

  “If you do not mind me asking, where is it that you obtain your . . . sustenance?” He takes another sip of tea. His eyes never leave mine.

  “The . . . the mountains near my home.”

  “The mountains? West of the city?” He looks puzzled.

  “Yes. Is that someone else’s territory?”

  He laughs.

  “Someone else’s territory? No. My concern, though, is that the population up there is a bit sparse, and too many disappearances could draw unwanted attention.”

  I swallow as scenes from horror movies, of human throats and fangs, flash through my head.

  “That . . . that won’t be a problem.”

  “Indeed. Then perhaps next time I may accompany you?”

  “Uh, sure.” Though I doubt his diet includes anything on four legs.

  His answering smile is warm and appears genuine. I can’t tell if he’s aware of the turmoil he’s sparking within me.

  “Good. However, I would like to see you again before then. Do you enjoy the theater?” He watches me over the brim of his cup as he finishes his tea.

  My mind spinning, I fumble for an excuse to turn him down. And fail.

  “I haven’t been to the theater in a long time.”

  “Then you must come with me.” His tone indicates he is not accustomed to being denied.

  “I . . . I’ll think about it.”

  “Nonsense. Are you available Friday night? I have season tickets.”

  “I work until two-thirty that night.”

  “Work?” He frowns.

  “Yes, I tend bar at the club you saw me leave. I just started there tonight.”

  “This is something you do often?”

  “The last three years. At clubs on the coast.” I’m puzzled by his reaction.

  “Hmm. I find that interesting. In fact, I find you interesting, very interesting. I look forward to getting to know you.” He smiles that genuine smile again, his eyes warm and friendly.

  But I don’t trust him. Part of me is terrified of him, and yet, the other part of me—the part that is tired of being alone—is becoming captivated by him. I quell my thoughts as the waitress brings us the check.

  He picks it up and, with a tip of his head to me, asks, “Shall we?”

  Nodding, I stand and he follows me to the register. I can feel his energy emanating behind me, like a powerful electric force field. It’s unnerving, yet enticing.

  He pays and we head out the door. He walks me to my car, which makes me even more nervous, because now he knows my license plate. However, I suspect he already knew. He certainly seemed to know where my car was parked.

  “Perhaps we can meet when you are not working. Would you like me to show you around the city? We have several museums and galleries specializing in the history of the area that you may find fascinating.”

  “I’d like that.” I’m fascinated already, and not in museums and galleries.

  “How is Friday? We can meet at the coffee shop if you like. Say . . . noon?”

  “One o’clock would be better for me.” Hopefully I’ll be awake in time.

  “Then one it is. I am looking forward to it. And now, I must say goodnight.” He returns my smile and bows slightly and, with a brief ruffling of the cold air, is no longer there.

  I didn’t even get his name.

  április 3., kedd

  Today, upon my return from Denver, I felt an uninvited and foreign presence in my city. My initial reaction was to hunt it down and destroy it for the sheer audacity of entering without permission. But my investigation revealed it to be a female, alone, and there was something quite strange, yet familiar, about her. Almost haunting, as if I have met her before. I know not yet what new threat this may be, but I will find out. She lives, for now.

  The Elders knew nothing of her. When I returned from making my inquiries, she had disappeared from the city. I hunted for several hours, but was unable to locate her. Then, tonight after leaving Club Vér, I felt her again. I traced her to a downtown bar and waited.

  She nearly ran when she saw me. She feigns innocence, but I am not sure it is an act. I have the distinct impression she has no knowledge of who I am.r />
  Our conversation in the café gave me the opportunity to observe her a little more closely. Her scent is unknown to me, yet it carries a familiarity I cannot explain. As earlier, I almost feel as though I have seen her before, perhaps in a dream. But dreams are for those who sleep.

  What caught my attention, though, was her complete lack of any human blood scent. She did not appear to be suffering from hunger, as her eyes were a pale, glacial blue—they were quite enchanting, I might add. I can only surmise that perhaps she does not feed on humans, which is highly unusual among The Chosen.

  I was pleased when she agreed to meet with me again, which gives me time to verify her story.

  I tracked her as she left the city and headed west into the mountains. At one point she abandoned her car and vanished into the forest on foot. I was called away shortly afterward and do not know if she returned. I have no choice now but to wait for our meeting. In the meantime, I will be watching for her.

  And as I write this, it occurs to me that I do not even know her name.

  THURSDAY

  CHAPTER 11

  It’s Thursday night, and my shift is almost over. I glance again at the clock. My new coworkers must not think much of me at this point. Since I began this job, I’ve been distracted and detached. The detachment is not new, but I usually maintain it with a little more grace. The distraction, though, is a bit unusual for me.

  I just can’t seem to get him out of my head. My thoughts continually revolve around him and the world he may represent. He was well-dressed and well-mannered and undeniably good looking. His self-assurance and sophistication could only belong to someone who is at the top of society. The question is—whose society?

  I’m shaken out of my mental ramblings as I realize that he is not just in my head. He is here. In the bar. Right now.

  He walks to a table near the door, gives me a smile and nod, then, unbuttoning his jacket, sits down.

  Tina heads to his table to take his order. His low, cultured voice asks for a glass of merlot, and I hear her stammer something unintelligible in reply. She hurries back to the bar.

  “Oh my God! Did you see what just walked in? He’s gorgeous! He has the most beautiful green eyes I’ve ever seen! I felt like I could just fall right into them!” Tina, blushing bright red, fans herself.

  I haven’t agreed with Tina on anything, but on this, I do.

  However, all I say is, “What did he order?”

  She glances back at him, blushes again, and says, “Wine. Um, merlot. A glass of merlot.”

  I hand her the glass I already poured and look up at him as she sets it on her tray. His expression of disdain is fierce, almost feral, but he quickly smoothes his features before she turns around and heads back to his table. She shakily sets the glass down, almost spilling it. He thanks her and hands her a bill, telling her to keep the change. She blushes and mumbles a thank you and comes back to the bar, eyes wide.

  “He gave me a twenty and told me to keep the change! Oh my God, I think I’m in love!”

  Tina’s always falling in love, and in this case it might be warranted. However, judging from his expression, perhaps pretty dangerous, too.

  Shauna strolls over to me, nodding. “Now that’s something you don’t see every day. He looks like some fancy guy from an old movie or something. That’s class.”

  I glance over at him. He smiles, takes a sip of his wine, and stands to leave. He moves like a dancer. Or a big cat. More the latter, I think.

  “Oh, he’s leaving already,” whines Tina.

  Shauna shakes her head. “Too bad. Sure is nice on the eyes.”

  He walks out the door without looking back. I start cleaning up and Shauna mutters something about it being a little early to do that, but I ignore her.

  As the last customer leaves at two o’clock, I finish drying the remaining glasses. I check to be sure everything is in order, then ask Shauna if there is anything else she’d like me to do.

  She frowns and says, “Naw, I guess you can take off. We’ll see you tomorrow night.”

  I grab my bag from the back and head out the door. He’s waiting on the sidewalk for me.

  “Hello again,” he says, his voice deep, rich.

  “Hello.”

  “I thought I would drop by to see if your plans might have changed.”

  I think he means if my mind has changed. He undoubtedly can sense my insecurity.

  “No, I’m still planning on meeting you tomorrow. One o’clock, right?”

  “Yes, if that is convenient for you. I have several places I thought we could visit, and we should have plenty of time before you need to report to work.” He smiles, a hint of amusement on his refined features.

  “But,” he says, “I am remiss and must apologize for my lack of manners. Let me introduce myself. My name is Nicolas Ambrus.”

  Nicolas Ambrus. If I could blush, I would. Even his name is tantalizing.

  “I’m Sunshine. Sunshine Martin. But most people just call me Sunny.” It’s not the first time I’ve felt embarrassed by my name, but somehow I am even more so at this moment.

  “Sunny! How delightful!” He chuckles, definitely amused now. “Well, then, Sunny, I will see you tomorrow.” He smiles warmly and dips his head. “I bid you goodnight.”

  And he disappears—again.

  How does he DO that? I wonder if he’ll teach me.

  április 5., csütörtök

  I visited her workplace tonight and all seems to be as she claimed. I am quite puzzled—I do not see what attracts her. The bar was filthy with the stink of unwashed lower-class humans. The waitress practically begged me to take her, but she was clearly below my normal standards.

  The female has a most unusual name for one of our dark nature. Sunshine, of all things! With any other Chosen, I would assume she adopted it out of arrogance and perhaps as an enticement. However, with this one I am not so sure. She does seem quite fearful of me, and I will need to handle her carefully so I can learn why she is really here and who might have sent her.

  I must admit, I do find her very intriguing.

  FRIDAY

  CHAPTER 12

  After trying on nearly everything decent I own, I settle on a light blue angora sweater with a dark blue tailored jacket and matching slacks, wishing I’d had time to shop for something new to wear. I add a wide-brimmed hat and gloves—the weather here is too unpredictable to count on this morning’s cloud cover remaining throughout the day. Frustrated and nervous, I grab my purse, get into the car, and head down the pass to the Springs.

  A date. A real date—my first in over five years—and with someone from whom I don’t have to guard my secret, or worry about accidentally killing. Someone who, despite my attraction to him, scares the hell out of me.

  It’s a little before 1:00 PM when I get to the coffee shop. My nerves are so jacked up, I’m sure everyone can see me shaking.

  Just as I sit down at the booth in the back, Nicolas comes in the door and smiles in greeting. He’s dressed more casually than in our previous encounters, wearing black slacks and a dark grey cashmere sweater that reveals the sculpted muscles previously hidden beneath his suit. I stand as he approaches the booth.

  “You look very nice today. Please, sit for a moment.” He sits across from me. “How are you? You look well rested.”

  He has that amused smile again.

  I suspect he means well fed. My eyes are palest blue today, and I notice that his are very pale green. Seems like we both prepared for a day of close contact with people.

  “Yes, I am. Thank you.” I return his smile.

  “Well then, shall we?” He stands and offers me his hand.

  His hand. I hesitate, then reach out. As his fingers touch mine, a warm vibration pulsates up my arm and throughout my entire body. My breath catches and I look up to see him staring at me, wonder etched across his face. Standing, I quickly release his hand, shift my gaze ahead of me, and walk to the front of the café.

  His cool sk
in had warmed an instant after we touched, as had mine, and I marvel over the sensation that raced through me. His reaction leads me to believe that not only did he feel it, too, but that this is something that doesn’t usually happen.

  I can’t wait for him to touch me again.

  As we reach the door, I barely remember to put on my hat and sunglasses. He laughs lightly, touching my hat. “Very fetching.”

  I grin in embarrassment as he puts on his own sunglasses and we step outside under the awning. The sun is peeking through the clouds. I pull my jacket around me and tug on my gloves, and notice him giving me a puzzled glance.

  I also notice he isn’t wearing a hat, jacket, or gloves.

  Huh.

  We walk a half-dozen blocks or so to the Colorado Springs Fine Arts Center, where they have a museum and several galleries. Nicolas takes me through many of the exhibits, explaining this bit of history or that artist.

  He’s right—I do find it all quite fascinating. But not as fascinating as I’m finding him. I’m enthralled by him. I listen as he talks, absorbing the cadence of his speech, the grace of his movements, the flash of his smiles.

  As we’re leaving, I laugh at something he says and we walk outside.

  The sun is now high overhead. The hat and the gloves are in my bag.

  My exposed skin feels as though flames are racing across it. I look down to see my hands turning bright pink and can feel my face doing the same.

  I freeze outside the door as panic takes over all thoughts. Nicolas peers down at me, frowning.

  “Sunny?”

  “Nicolas, I have to get back inside.” I try to keep the alarm from my voice. He steps ahead and opens the door, holding my elbow to usher me in. We quickly make our way to the restrooms and he stops me before I go in, worry lines creasing his face.

  “Are you all right? Is there anything I can do?”

  “Yes, no. I . . . I’ll be fine. The burn will fade soon. I just need to get some cool water on my hands and face.” I squeeze his arm, walk into the restroom, and look in the mirror.