Of Watchers & Wolves- The Awakening Read online

  1

  Of Watchers and Wolves:

  The Awakening

  Tiffany Foxe

  Chapter 1

  A slender woman stood fearlessly as she gazed down from the top of a towering construction crane. Her long, dark, wavy hair rustled in the wind as her deep blue, listless eyes gazed down at the bustling streets below.

  "Always the same", she thought.

  With equanimity, she took one step forward into thin air, turned her back and fell, back first toward the ground. A nonchalant expression painted her face. Her black, wool coat flapped violently as she plummeted toward the concrete and asphalt below. About halfway to the ground, two giant, feathered, black wings spread out from behind her. The woman turned over, fully extended her wings, and glided through the illuminated city.

  One might think it incredibly difficult to pull off such a stunt without being noticed and recorded these days due to the constant access to technology, but it was actually quite the opposite. People’s eyes were incessantly glued to their phones, too distracted to pay much attention to anything else. This was a fact she loved for flying was the only thing that still brought her a sliver of joy, that still made her feel...alive. It brought about a certain nostalgic fondness of when things were more careless and less monotonous...of when the world still held wonder. But, the feeling was always fleeting. Another glimpse down upon the city instantly reminded her of why she loathed her ceaseless circumstances.

  "Stuck...", she thought.

  Displaced was more like it. Their eyes too sensitive to bear the sunlight, her people lived like hermits during the day and fed at night to survive. Their only sustenance on this world was blood, human blood. And, it wasn’t like eating a fine cut of delectable meat. Every feeding was unique with its own array of vivid memories passed from prey to predator. It was akin to eating a steak, then learning everything about the cow that steak used to be: its happiest memories, its saddest, munching on blades of grass with its favorite companion, sunbathing in the dewy morning pastures, the pain and fear during its final moments of slaughter, the works. The whole experience made it quite difficult to enjoy a meal when she knew it so intimately. Yet, it was a necessary part of existence: eating meant living.

  As she soared above the streets she often pondered like this. Letting her mind wonder, making comparisons about this and that, weighing the pros and cons of various scenarios. The process was possibly the only thing that prevented her from going mad from endless repetition of day to day existence. An eternity of living with no need for an occupation, no cause to fight for...what else was there to do?

  Alas, she snapped herself back into the present moment and decidedly swept down toward a multi-storied red brick building. She landed in the desolate street in front in a manner that immediately transferred into a brisk walk so as not to fall from the forward momentum. The area was quiet and dark except for a few street lights on the corner. She folded her wings back and with little effort they completely disappeared. It was a mental trick used for moving about the masses without detection. A sort of hypnotizing or mental blocking of people’s optical pathways. Any human could walk by and not be the wiser. She motioned toward the entrance and opened the red door, releasing a wave of muted trumpet and swing music into the otherwise silent streets. She walked in, not giving notice toward anything but her destination: a wooden stool in front of a dark oak bar top. She plopped down and stared at the coaster in front of her.

  "What'll it be?"

  A tall, broad-shouldered man moved toward her on the other side of the

  counter. He was cleaning the streaks off the inside of a pint glass with a towel.

  The woman sighed, gave a hint of indecision, and replied, "The usual."

  The man pulled up a bottle of potato vodka from below and filled a shot glass. The woman briskly consumed her beverage and slammed the glass down before the bartender could put the bottle back in its place. He was inspecting her now. She continued to eye her empty glass, spinning it from side to side with her fingers. She could feel his eyes on her and responded by meeting his gaze with hers.

  "Another day in paradise?" asked the barkeep.

  She smirked.

  "Another day in something," she retorted, sullenly.

  "Sophie."

  He attempted to give an air of cheerfulness as he said her name, but it was met with disapproval.

  "Hey, it could always be worse. You could be out on the street, paraplegic, blind, deaf, and mute, broke, and mortal."

  He was smiling and trying to cheer up an old friend. She knew it and appreciated the gesture but, the mortal part dug in her side for this part she disagreed on. Mortal would be better. Then, this dreary, pointless routine would all end at some point. No matter how many things you have to do or like to do, at some point after doing it long enough, it all blurs into complete and utter meaninglessness. She sighed.

  “Life’s too long,” she thought.

  She sat a while, had a few more drinks, then told the man to put it on her tab as she proceeded to head out the front door of the bar. Heading home seemed like a good idea. Perhaps playing some music could clear her mind...or maybe fill it. She stepped outside onto the sidewalk and looked around. It was late and the city had long gone to sleep. At this hour, she basically had the city to herself. The air blew cold and crisp, stinging her cheeks. She flipped her collar up and wrapped her coat tight about her. She turned to her right and began walking down the sidewalk. She didn’t get far before something caught the corner of her eye.

  “Huh?”

  She stopped and turned toward a dark, narrow entryway beside the bar. A pair of legs stretched out from the shadows, motionless. With hesitation, she moved towards them. No one was around.

  The wind howled into the night, violently shifting directions with indecision. It was probably a cold front coming in, she thought. Old wives tales fabled that wind meant change was in the air, but Sophie knew better. Things were always in motion, no matter how stagnant and dull they appeared after all her years on Earth. She knelt down beside the body. There was no chest movement, no blood pumping. She didn’t have to feel for an artery to know it, she could sense it. This man was dead. She touched his skin. Still warm. She grabbed his shoulder and gently pushed him onto his back. Even though the body was hidden in darkness she could tell it was a male, well-dressed, he obviously had money, and wait...she knew this person. Her heart skipped a beat. She noticed a large pool of blood beneath his neck. She pulled down his jacket collar. On the opposite side were multiple bite marks and tearing of flesh. His spine and carotid artery were partially severed.

  “Hmph.”

  He was completely covered in blood. She tried to make sense of it. She knew her people didn’t do this. This wasn’t their style. The Watchers didn’t feed on their own, and murder was a rarity. This was also on their home turf. Leaving a dead body here would risk bringing the public eye into their backyard. Her people were way too careful to gamble with their security.

  Waaaoooo Waa!

  Sophie snapped her head toward the street. A police car announced itself with a siren wail and red and blue lights dancing across the buildings. Suddenly a spotlight shone directly on Sophie and the lifeless corpse beside her. She had to squint hard to discern anything from the glaring white before her.

  “Freeze!”

  A willowy, blonde woman in uniform got out of the car and reached for her gun. Sophie wasted no moment sprinting the opposite direction toward the safety of darkness in the alley behind her.

  “Fuck," gasped the police officer.

  The cop began chasing, glancing down at the body as she passed by. Sophie turned a corner, the cop fol
lowed, pulling out a flashlight while in pursuit.

  “Stop! Police!”

  The officer came to a hault as she passed the corner as there was no one left to follow.

  Where did she go?

  She poked her light in various corners around her, carefully surveying every nook and cranny.

  “PCPD! Identify yourself!”

  Silence.

  “You’re not under arrest. I just have some questions,” she lied.

  Still nothing. She grabbed the radio attached to her shirt, called in the incident, then proceeded to return to the body to get some clues and mark off the area for a possible crime scene. The police officer noticed the same things as Sophie: a middle-aged man with money, or at least looked like a man of money, with what looked like bite marks or massive lacerations on the side of his neck. It looked like it could be an animal attack, yet they were in the middle of the city. It was highly unlikely an animal did this. Too big to be a feral cat. A dog maybe, but you didn't tend to see them meandering about this area. There was a better chance that the bite was from a human considering their location in a massively populated area.

  “Ugh. Why do I always get the weirdos?” she muttered to herself as she waited for the CSI unit.

  ***

  “I want this case,” Emiline demanded.

  She leaned over the desk of her disapproving captain.

  “Come on! It’s been three weeks!. Isn’t that punishment enough?”

  “Zadok, you unnecessarily put yourself in harm’s way causing your partner to put himself in a risky situation, as well. You risked two police officers’ lives, all of which could have been avoided.”

  She raised her eyebrows and just stared back in response.

  “He almost got shot,” he asserted.

  “But he didn’t,” she reminded.

  Her captain’s body language showed he didn’t like that answer.

  “I didn’t know it was gonna go down like that. Look, I learned my lesson. Safety first. Can I please have this case? I’m so tired of being on patrol, and I know that area better than anyone in our precinct. Plus, I’m the only one that saw our only suspect. I know who we’re looking for.”

  Reynolds leaned forward on his desk.

  “I’m all ears. Do you have a name?”

  Zadok backtracked.

  “Well, I know what she looks like,” she said as she leaned back in the chair and clasped her hands over her lap.

  She gave a smug smile as she crossed her legs. She knew she had him. Captain Reynolds sighed. He was always one to play by the book. Being an older black man meant taking risks earned unwanted attention, and sometimes undeserved accusations. Playing by the rules always redirected the blame of any infraction on the rulemakers, no matter how crooked or unjust they may be, so his hands remained clean.

  “Two more days, Emiline.”

  She rolled her eyes and tilted her head toward the ceiling. This wasn’t punishment. This was torture.

  “Two more days and you’ll be back at your regular post and you can take over the case, but if you start snooping around before then, I’ll throw you on desk duty, permanently.”

  “The suspect could be long gone in two days! How are you going to find her if you don’t know what she looks like?”

  “Of course, you’ll give a description of the suspect to the sketch artist.”

  “No one will recognize her like I will.”

  “Unless your description is detailed. Two days.”

  “But…”

  “Keep it up and I’ll put you on desk duty, right now.”

  She sighed and rolled her eyes. Then, she nodded in acceptance. He had pushed his hand. What else could she do?

  Emiline figured it was best to follow orders. She couldn’t risk the consequences if she screwed up. She moped out of the captain’s office, deciding to go ahead and write up her report and consult with their sketch artist as directed. She went over the details with him and waited for the results. She frowned at his final product. She looked like a goddess not a killer. Heck, no one looked like this. She was the epitome of perfection. She left the sketch artist discouraged.

  “His mind must be elsewhere, tonight,” she thought regarding the sketch artist’s rendition of the suspect.

  She decided to stop heading down that avenue and pursue a different leg of the investigation: witnesses. Now, technically, this was the detectives’ alley, but Em figured she could discreetly tie it in with offtime so as to avoid any further issues with the captain. Next stop: crime scene.

  Emiline walked up to the bar entrance next to the scene of the crime. A dull neon red sign read “Masquerade” above the front door. She waited until she was officially off duty so she could come in regular street clothes and have a drink. This way she didn’t put people on guard and she wasn’t breaking her temporary banishment from detective work.

  She walked inside the bar and was immediately met with all eyes on her, which weren’t many but it was enough to make her stop in her tracks. Apparently, this was a place that only catered to regulars. She walked towards the bar and sat down.

  “What’ll it be?” questioned the bartender.

  “Uh...”

  She scanned around the bar. Not many patrons. Two exits. One in front. One on the side toward the alley. It could’ve been someone from here.

  “I’ll have a beer.”

  “What kind?”

  “Um. Whatever’s on tap.”

  The bartender raised his brow. There were several beers on tap.

  “Whatever’s cheapest.”

  “Okay...PBR it is.”

  He poured a pint, set it before her, and walked to the other side of the bar.

  Now, comes the waiting game.

  She sat and slowly drank her beer, trying to inconspicuously keep tabs on the other patrons. An hour passed, then two. She ordered another beer. Swing music played in the background.

  “Is this your busiest night?” she asked the barkeep.

  “Pretty much,” he responded, not really paying any attention to her.

  She was growing restless. Normally, stakeouts and undercover work were easy for her, but going in on her own without her captain’s consent or anyone’s knowledge of her whereabouts made her a bit antsy. If something happened, she was on her own. And, if Reynold’s found out she would be on desk duty for the rest of her career, if she was lucky.

  A little while longer.

  She tapped her heal impatiently. Her long, light blonde hair rested over her shoulders. She looked down at it. It appeared reddish orange in the light.

  Is this what I’d look like with red hair?

  She grimaced.

  Thud. Thud. Thud.

  Emiline turned toward the sound behind her. A woman with long dark brown hair hurried down the stairs as she reviewed a stack of papers.

  “Is this all we have, Sam?”

  She looked up from her papers at the barkeep who responded by glancing at Emiline. The brunette woman looked over at what was keeping his attention.

  She paused in her tracks when she noticed Emiline. Em caught a view of the woman’s face.

  It’s her! That’s the suspect.

  The woman obviously recognized her, too, but seemed unsure of what to do next. Em wasn’t sure, either. She was off duty, had been drinking, and wasn’t even supposed to be on the case, yet. Calling in other detectives wasn’t an option. Her suspect might flee between now and then, and she couldn’t let anyone know she was here against orders. But, she couldn’t just let this suspect slip out of her hands. She had to fish for some answers, clues...something that she could later go on.

  The woman made the first move.

  “I’m sorry, I’m just SO not used to seeing new faces here. You threw me off,” she explained with a welcoming smile.

  She looked back down at her papers and walked up to the bar where Sam, the barkeep, was standing on the other side.

  “It’s okay. Do you own this place?”

&
nbsp; The woman looked up at Em.

  “No, I just manage some of the finances and what not,” she responded and returned her focus back to her paperwork.

  “Oh.”

  Okay...she works here…

  “I’m Alice, by the way. Alice Carrol” said Emiline.

  Em held out her hand. The woman returned the gesture.

  “Sophie.”

  Their eyes met. Em was taken aback at how blue this woman’s eye’s were. She had never seen anyone with eyes that blue. It was like the depth of the ocean and sky, together, could be seen in them. They practically glowed. She was entranced. She tried to snap herself out of it. Back to the task at hand.

  She had a name, but was hoping for a last name, as well.

  Damnit. Okay, well, a first name, place of employment, and description of suspect. Brunette, caucasian with wicked blue eyes that’ll take your breath away. Okay...I’ll leave that last part out.

  “What brings you to this dive?” Sophie queried.

  “Just...exploring. I’ve driven by this place a few times and wondered what it was like inside. Plus…”

  She held up her glass referring to its contents.

  “Can I ask you something? Your eyes. They’re so blue. Where did you get such blue eyes?”

  She tried to convince herself that such an inquiry could further her case. Maybe this could give her a profile of the woman’s ethnic or cultural background that could gives some clues to an area of residence or possible motive. Okay, okay. That was a stretch and an excuse, at best. Though, she did really want to know how someone could have an such intense hue in their eyes. Her reasons weren’t strictly related to the case.

  But, it wasn’t just her eyes that grabbed her attention. It was her whole aura. Everything about her extruded confidence and sex appeal. The sight of her was truly intoxicating, a feeling that Zadok incessantly tried to shake.

  “From my parents,” Sophie said, flatly.

  The woman didn’t seem to notice Em’s interest. She was still reading through her papers. Em’s shoulders dropped in disappointment. It was a stupid question. She didn’t know why she felt compelled to ask it, but she sure felt foolish for having done so.