Lilith Saintcrow - Watcher 01 - DarkWatcher

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DARK WATCHER
By
Lilith Saintcrow
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
To Nicholas D.,
as ever and always.
Coming in 2005 from Lilith Saintcrow
Storm Watcher
Fire Watcher
Cloud Watcher
Dark Watcher
***
Lilith Saintcrow
Dark Watcher Published by ImaJinn Books
Copyright ©2004 by Lilith Saintcrow Printed and bound in the United States of America. All rights
reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical,
photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without prior written permission of both the copyright holder and
the above publisher of this book, except by a reviewer, who may quote brief passages in a review. For
information, address: ImaJinn Books, a division of ImaJinn, P.O. Box 545, Canon City, CO
81215-0545; or call toll free 1-877-625-3592.
Trade Size Paperback ISBN: 0-9759653-2-8 Adobe PDF Format: No ISBN Assigned
PUBLISHER’S NOTE: This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are
products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales
or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Cover design by Patricia Lazarus
ImaJinn Books
P.O. Box 545, Canon City, CO 81215-0545
Toll Free: 1-877-625-3592
http://www.imajinnbooks.com
Chapter One
The rain poured down, glittering and flashing, smashing its silver needles against the pavement and the
blank buildings. Theodora locked the shop’s front door and flattened her hand on the cold glass. Her
rings sparkled, and the flash of her triggering the wards was almost hidden.
Then again, nobody without Power would see it anyway. And nobody with Power would be out on a
night like tonight. There was the freezing rain, and the persistent smell of danger in the wet, icy air. Theo
slipped her gloves on and held her long woolen pea coat closed at her throat. Her scarf was wrapped
around her neck, and her grandmother’s ruby necklace was a comforting weight against her breastbone.
Theo yawned and started her walk home. Maybe I should stop and get some tea, she thought, and then
smiled at herself. You’re just hoping to find someone to talk to, Theo. Admit it.
Business had been good lately, but very little of it had been serious. Some high-school kids had
discovered the Craft, and since most of them were upper-middle-class, they had to have all the toys.
Well, that was good for Theo’s wallet. Good for a trip to Mexico, to lay in the sun and turn brown and
listen to the voices in the sand and the sea. Zihuatanejo, rhymed with tomato, and she was saving for that
vacation.
There were the regulars, too, and her employees—Mari was busy getting ready for her finals, and Elise
had something special in mind that she’d been stocking pink quartz and rose-oil for. Another
bring-me-love spell. I wonder for who? Maybe Mark, he’s been moping around lately. Poor man.
If Elise would only look his way for a moment, she might find more than she bargains for. But
then again, he’s too much of a nice guy for her. She likes bad boys…
Theo put her head down and walked briskly up the dark street, her long chestnut hair already damp. It
would be sodden by the time she reached the Creation.
She took one quick glance back when she reached the end of the street. Her shop—the Magick
Cauldron—lay dark and glittering faintly in its brick building. The wards were glimmering to her Sight,
and all was as it should be.
Theo sighed. She loved the shop, and she loved her life, but…sometimes she wished…
It was normal to wish, but a witch had to be careful of her wishes. “A little excitement,” she said, softly.
“And maybe…Goddess, would it be too much to ask to find a decent guy? I mean, the last time I dated
was two whole years ago, and that was such a disaster. Then again, I did it to myself, by wishing for a
man and not being careful about the terms and conditions.”
Theo laughed. There was nobody on the street, so she wouldn’t look too crazy, walking along and
talking to herself. The wind was uneasy tonight, whispering between the buildings, but Theo simply
walked a little faster, the rain wetting her hair and her face, soaking into her coat. Danger in the air? Let it
come. Theo was safe enough in the hands of the Goddess.
She began to hum. Suzanne had written another song, and it was hard to get it out of her head. Bring me
down to the god in the glen, bring me down to the green trees dancing—
Well, what would it hurt? Theo lifted her voice, singing. Her voice would be lost in the wind and the rain.
“Bring me down to the god in the glen, bring me down to the green trees dancing. Bring me down to the
Lady’s mirror, bring me down to the place of the dance…da-da-da-dum, bring me a song,
da-da-da-dum, bring me a stone, da-da-da-dum, bring me along, along to the place of the Lady’s
throne—”
She had a pleasant contralto, and the wind answered, sliding between the buildings and suddenly smelling
more like spring than the end of fall, just before Samhain. The trees, losing their leaves, rattled in the
sudden wind, adding their voices to hers. The rain felt sweet for a moment, and warm, and Theo’s
laughter echoed in the concrete canyons of the city.
Chapter Two
“That’s her?” Dante asked. “That’s the target?” He couldn’t keep the disbelief out of his voice.
“It is.” Hanson crouched out of sight, looking dark and miserable in the rain. They were on the roof of a
bank, watching the woman. “According to the intel, that’s the next one. They think she’s the most
dangerous to them. They could be right, you know.”
Dante stuffed his hands in his coat pockets and looked down again. His senses were sharper than any
normal’s, and he could see the glimmer in the air around the woman. She was tall and slim and moving as
if she was dancing down the dark rain-slick sidewalk. The power trailing her smelled like green growing
things, and she was making enough noise to be heard throughout the entire city. “They could be,” he
agreed. “She’s lit up like a marquee sign. How do they find them?” he asked, shaking his head. The rain
was slicking his short black hair to his forehead, and he was beginning to feel the cold. He ignored it.
There was so much to ignore in this line of work. “Don’t they care that the Lightbringers…” He trailed
off. He asked the question often, and nobody seemed to have a good answer.
“Who knows? They’re on a Crusade, man. They don’t care. Got their own brave new world to bring.”
Hanson blinked, and then looked around again. “I’ve got to go, I’ve got my own witch to look after. You
got the dossier?” He knew very well that Dante had the slim file and would memorize and destroy it in the
next twelve hours.
“Of course I got it, quit bugging me. I can do this.” Dante looked back down to where the woman had
stopped and was looking in a shop window. The Darkness inside him shifted uneasily, and he forced it
down, ignoring the fresh bite of pain. To be this close to a Lightbringer made it more active. “So what
does she do?”
“Runs that little occult shop. You can see the shields from here, man. She’s like a volcano. You’d better
go.” Hanson shifted from foot to foot and grinned. It was a wolf’s lazy grin. His blue eyes glittered in the
uncertain light—his blond hair was much darker now, slick with rain. “They’re close. Whole damn city
crawling with them.”
“All right, go back to watching your witch, and I’ll go and watch mine. Call if you need me.” Dante made
the offer, knowing it would prick Hanson’s pride.
“I don’t need you. I’ve been doing just fine at this for a long time.”
“Not long enough, if you’re still doing it.” Dante gathered himself and leapt lightly to the top of the brick
wall. He looked down at the concrete four stories below. His coat moved around his legs—a long black
leather trench coat, which went really well with the whole punk-angel fashion trip—and he glanced back
at Hanson. “Honor, brother.”
“Duty, brother. Good luck.”
Dante nodded and leapt.
There was a breathless moment of almost-flight, the laws of physics bending just a little, and then his
boots touched down. He drew the rainy air around him like a cloak and followed the trail the woman had
left in the air.
If the Crusade was in this city, they were going to move on her soon. It was only a matter of time. A
witch running an occult shop, he thought. Gods. They have no sense of discretion anymore. Can’t
blame them, though. Lightbringers.
Dante lengthened his stride a little and hurried after the witch.
Chapter Three
The Creation was decorated for Halloween, a huge orange paper pumpkin hanging from the ceiling and
orange pumpkin lights strung in the picture window. It had been a hippie co-op in the seventies, and
abandoned after the co-op folded. Abe Francklin had bought it, and had turned it into a coffeehouse right
before coffee had become a gourmet experience. The floor was concrete, and a few straggling green
plants perked almost visibly as soon as Theo closed the door and shook her long hair out. The tables
were topped with marble—Abe had bought them from a short-lived ice cream parlor in the very first
days of urban renewal. They always seemed about to tip, just like the rocking wooden benches. The
walls were covered with a violent jungle mural that some local artist had painted in an alcoholic haze.
Theo liked it; it was green, and it had trees.
It was a Wednesday night and not very busy. Joffrey coughed in the corner, but Todd was nowhere to
be seen, probably working late. Vail waved in greeting. There were a few other people, none of them
regulars. Theo slipped her coat and gloves off, and Sage cursed from behind the barista’s counter. He’d
taken over from Matt Delgado, after Delgado had quit last spring and opened up the Free Shelter. There
was a mystery there, but one that Theo was comfortable not knowing. It had to do with last winter, and
that had been a hard one. She’d lost several patients that winter, to the cold and to…other things. “Good
evening to you too, Sage,” she said, and wrinkled her nose as a drift of cigarette smoke slid by. “What’s
wrong?”
Sage, a thin, tall, red-haired man working towards a law degree, peered out from behind the red hulk of
the espresso machine. “What the… Oh, hi, Theo. Damn machine—” His eyes were wide and dark, and
he had faint lines scored between his coppery eyebrows. He had a long nose, long fingers, and a gold
earring in his left ear. His hair was stiff with gel and spiked to within an inch of its life.
“What’s wrong with it?” Theo asked, dropping her coat and her gloves on the table by the door. She
hadn’t carried a purse today, knowing that it would likely rain. “Let me take a look.”
“You’re a lifesaver, Theo. How’s business over at Ye Olde Witch Shoppe?” Sage wiped his hands on a
rag and poured a white china mug full of coffee.
Theo came around the edge of the counter and examined the machine. “Oh, my,” she said. “Can you
bring me some towels? I think this will get messy. Business is fine, and I don’t think I’m renaming the
shop anytime soon, thank you. Get me a screwdriver, too.”
“As you command, oh princess,” he said, and winked one brown eye. Theo laughed and pushed her hair
back over her shoulder.
“Get going. Honestly, I don’t know why Abe doesn’t buy a new machine.” she started working on the
stuck filter, and burned her finger on it. It was still hot. “Ow!”
“He’s cheap, that’s why. Hurt yourself?” Sage looked contrite. “God, Theo, I’m sorry.”
“Don’t worry about it. Just a little burn…” Theo took a towel, wrapped it around the handle and then
around the cup of the espresso-box. “Stand back, ladies and gentlemen, I’m about to perform some
magic. Get me that screwdriver, will you?”
“Oh, yeah. Sure.” Sage set off for the tiny room where they kept the tools and the stereo system, and
Theo leaned close to the coffee machine.
“You want to work for me,” she said, quietly. “It’s all right, I know you’re tired. Just a little, now.” She
used the same tone that she would on a frightened beast, and she was rewarded with a pop and a puff of
steam. Thankfully, the towel caught the steam and the coffee grounds, and she wiped up and tossed the
towel in the “dirty” box. “There we are,” she said, softly. “Thank you.” She sketched a quick rune on the
backsplash of the machine—Tiw, for the god of justice and blacksmiths. Machines were his purview.
She thought for a moment, and then added the Vulca symbol. The machine needed all the help it could
get.
Her fingers throbbed. That’ll teach me to grab without looking, she thought, and hummed a snatch of
the melody again. The pain faded, and she shook it out through the tip of her finger, careful not to flick it
towards any glass. The concrete floor groaned, accepting the pain, and then subsided.
“Your screwdriver, Your Witchiness,” Sage said, presenting her with a red-handled Phillips head. “Will
that work?”
“It’ll work just fine. How about pouring me a cup of tea, since I’m fixing your machine?” She deftly
popped out the offending part, and took a look. There. A coffee bean, stuck in the machine. “Now how
did that get there? Don’t tell me, it just got up and leapt in there.”
“I don’t know,” Sage said, rinsing out a small white teapot with hot water to warm it. “What kind of tea?
The peppermint again?”
“No, some chamomile. I think I need the calming, I feel a little wild tonight. What’s happening on the
Ave?” Theo popped the part back on, tightened the screws, and then checked the rest of the machine. It
should hold up for another few days.
“Oh, you know, everyone’s nervous. Wonder what the gang boys are doing for Halloween.” He poured
the hot water in and added the tea bag. “Sounds like they have a big party planned. You want something
to eat?”
“Do you have any of Charlene’s pumpkin loaf? I’ll take a slice of that.” Theo finished, and she mopped
up the water that had spread on the counter and the stray coffee grounds. She took a deep breath and
glanced out the front window. Nothing there but the night, drenched in freezing rain. Why did she feel so
nervous?
“Okay, pumpkin loaf it is. Joe Cool’s getting kind of nutty. You know he started saying the other night
that there’re werewolves in the city?” Sage laughed, his quick fingers moving deftly. “How crazy is that?”
“Very,” Theo murmured. Actually, it wasn’t crazy at all. She knew some of the Kine in the city. “How
did he arrive at this conclusion?”
“He said he saw one down at the wharves. But he’s been drinking again. You know how it is.”
Theo nodded. She did indeed know how it was. Her earrings swung back and forth, tapping on her
cheeks. They were garnets set in long twisting Celtic spirals made of silver, for luck and protection. She
had felt fiery today. Her grandmother’s necklace sparked against her neck.
Theo tapped her ringed fingers on the counter, her eyes drawn to the night outside again. The stereo must
have clicked over to a new CD, because the Tragic Diamonds started to wail about that no-good Jimmy
Jingo, that lowdown dirty beast. It was a song Theo knew by heart.
“The Diamonds,” she said. “That’s their demo?”
“Oh, yeah.” Sage nodded enthusiastically. “Elise brought it by. Good stuff, huh?”
“Fantastic,” she said, and accepted the plate with two pieces of pumpkin loaf on it. Suzanne and Elise
had written that song together about one of Theo’s ex-boyfriends. It had been extremely therapeutic.
“Thank you. I’ll come back for the tea—”
Sage blinked at her. “Na, I’ll carry it. You’re sitting next to the door?”
The door opened, the bell hung on it jingling, and Theo heard a familiar whistling voice. “Hey, Sage,
wassup?”
“Oh, God.” Sage rolled his eyes, and then he turned around. “Hello, Grody. What hole did you crawl out
of?”
Theo sighed. She carried her pumpkin loaf around the counter and was confronted with the vision of
Grody digging in his pockets for change. “I know I got it,” he said, and reeled. His nose was bright red,
and the smell of gin exhaled from him in powerful waves. “I got a dollar for coffee, right here.”
Theo looked over. Her eyes met Sage’s, and Sage’s eyebrows rose. Theo put her pumpkin loaf down
on the table and fished a five-dollar bill from her coat pocket. Her coat was beginning to steam in the
heat. “Here,” she said. “I’ll buy you a cup of coffee, Grody. Go ahead and sit down.” She took the
man’s elbow.
He was at least six inches taller than her, and his dirty pants were held up with a bit of string. His shoes
were canvas, his left big toe was sticking out from a hole, and his jacket stank. Theo did not allow her
nose to wrinkle again. He had a round face, even though his neck was skinny, and his gray hair formed a
long, matted fringe around his bald head.
Grody looked down at her. “Theo!” he crowed, delighted. “Theo!”
“Shhh, Grody.” She hushed him gently, and he quieted. “Now sit down. Sage is anxious tonight, so
we’ve got to help him out.”
Grody nodded, his eyes focusing over her shoulder. He had at least three days growth of beard. How
had he managed to get gin? Where was Taz? Old, stick-thin Taz usually kept Grody out of trouble. Theo
sighed, guided Grody onto the bench across from hers, and made him sit down by tugging on his arm.
Then she turned back to the counter. Sage was shaking his head.
She stepped back up to the counter and gave him the five. “A cup of coffee for Grody, and then I’ll get
him out of here and to the drunk tank. I promise.”
Sage just shook his head. “You’re a softie, Theo. You’re going to get mugged or worse one of these
days. You and your strays—”
“I didn’t ask for your opinion,” Theo said, maybe a little sharply. She had been looking forward to a nice
leisurely cup of tea and her pumpkin loaf while she chatted with Sage and watched the usual nightly
crowd fill the Creation. And she could have traced out her plans for Mexico in her little notebook. “I
don’t think it’s a crime to have a soft heart, Sage. Not if you’re firm when you have to be.” She wiped
her hand on her hip, pulling at her wine-red sweater. Her skirt was damp at the bottom edge. “Coffee,
and my tea, please.”
He took her five and handed her four ones in change. “You fixed my machine,” he said. “I won’t charge
you for the tea or the pumpkin loaf. What’s Abe going to do, fire me?’
“I certainly hope not. Who would nurse that machine along?” Theo felt her shoulders relaxing, and
smiled. When Sage turned to pour Grody’s coffee, she put the extra four dollars in his tip jar. Then she
carried her teapot and cup over to the table. “He’s bringing your coffee, Grody, and then we’ll take a
walk. It’s cold out tonight, isn’t it?”
Grody nodded, his greasy, thinning hair swinging forward. “Bad things out tonight. Wolves in the clouds.”
Theo felt a cool finger trace its way up her spine. “Really?” she asked lightly. Sage brought the coffee,
and Theo lowered herself onto the bench. She picked up a slice of pumpkin loaf and bit into it. “You
don’t say. Here’s your coffee. Thank you, Sage.”
Sage grinned at her. “Anything for you, Theo. Thanks for fixing the old beast.” He went back behind the
counter, whistling along with the Diamonds, and Theo felt another smile tugging at her lips. This time she
gave in, and smiled. She pushed her coat down onto the bench next to her and laid her gloves atop it.
“Well, Grody,” she said. “Drink your coffee, and then we’ll take a walk.”
Grody beamed at her, the scars on his forehead white against his flushed skin. Nobody knew what had
turned him into what he was—and Theo didn’t want to know. She was careful not to touch him, but she
did slide her plate over, with the other piece of pumpkin loaf. “Here,” she said.
“Thanks, Theo,” he said, a little sadly, and sipped at his scalding coffee. He held the steaming cup in his
chapped hands, and shivered slightly.
“You’re welcome,” she said, meaning it, and started to drink her tea.
Chapter Four
Dante was across the street, melted into the bricks and the deeper shadows of the convenient doorway
he’d found, when the witch came out. He scanned the street, slowly.
Nothing. Nothing but the witch and a drunk normal. He was leaning on her, and Dante could smell the
alcohol on him. Gin, and lots of it. The normal smelled like vomit as well, and the witch’s clean scent,
mixed with the human stench, was almost nauseating.
Dante’s lips peeled back from his teeth. What was this?
He strained his ears through the smacking sound of rain and the now-moaning wind.
“—to a warm bed,” she said. Her voice was pleasant, low and husky, and she didn’t sound concerned
or fearful. As a matter of fact, she sounded calm. Dante’s body clenched around the sweet contralto purr
of that voice. That had never happened before.
“Won’t that be nice?” she said, and the pain twisted in Dante’s bones and quieted a little.
“They don’t like me there, Theo,” the normal said, in a whiny petulant voice. Dante found a silent growl
edging its way out of his chest and stopped himself, aghast. What was wrong with him?
The woman stopped and looked around, her long hair moving damply in the sodden wind. He caught a
flash of green—her eyes? Her aura? He stopped breathing, folding himself up inside his shielding.
He felt her attention sweep the street, like green flame. Gods, but she was powerful. How had she
escaped the Dark before this? Just dumb luck, or had she been sensible enough to keep her head down
when it felt dangerous outside?
He strained his eyes. A slice of a cheekbone, a flash of her mouth. Nothing more. He couldn’t tell what
she looked like. But he could follow the green, earth-smelling aura of power around her. It dyed the air
with streaks of dark, brilliant green, like an emerald held up to the sun. And the fringes of the green were
always seeking around her, excellent shielding. If he hadn’t been tuned to—
She hurried on, her voice a soothing burr, talking to the normal in hushed tones. Dante could still smell the
alcohol from here.
He could also smell something else.
He wrapped the rainy darkness around himself and waited silently. Something else was amiss here.
Then he spotted it—an amorphous blot of shadow, following the witch’s glow. Something misshapen,
ugly.
A Seeker.
Adrenaline jolted through Dante’s system, but he savagely clamped his control down. What is wrong
with me? He had never had any problem with control before. Never in all the time he had been a
Watcher had he hesitated even for a moment.
He ghosted down the street after the Seeker. If all went well, tonight would see one dead Seeker, and
hopefully a live witch to someday add to Circle Lightfall.
If all went well.
Dante shifted to an effortless lope, a pace that would let him overtake the Seeker before the witch even
sensed its presence. He cut through the rainy night, and there was a glint coming from the silver guns in
his hands.
Chapter Five
“Not again,” Browley said, her eyebrows raised. She hooked her thumbs in her uniform belt. The police
blue looked good on her, and her short bomber jacket accentuated her trim figure. “Theodora Morgan,
you can’t be serious.” She was a lean, rawboned woman who looked unfinished, even in her uniform.
The homeless children on the Avenue, with rare humor, called her Officer Browbeat. Despite that, she
was tough, competent, and sometimes even compassionate. She was known for fairness.
“Oh, just put him in the tank,” Theo said. “He’ll cause some harm if he’s out there alone tonight. Come
on, Marla. You know I’m doing the right thing.” She was trying not to wheedle.
“Oh, I know. You always do.” Browley ran her fingers back through her short dark hair and then
shrugged. “All right, I’ll see if I can take him in. Hang on.” She turned aside, and spoke into her radio. It
burbled and squawked. Theo had to be careful not to get too close to it. Her aura could short out
electrical appliances sometimes, especially on a night like this.
Theo waited patiently, rain soaking her hair. Grody was all but asleep on his feet, swaying and making
little burbling noises. It was the gin, rising to his head. He would pass out soon, and he’d catch
pneumonia or worse sleeping on the cold concrete ground.
Theo risked a little bit of magick. Humming softly, she flattened her gloved hand against Grody’s jacket
sleeve. He smelled awful. He must have vomited on himself before coming into the Creation. She
breathed out through her mouth and let the healing pass through her.
It was as if she stood in the middle of a great swelling organ note, resonating in the world around her.
Green light flashed, and the smell of a forest—incongruous here in the city—breathed through the rainy
air.
“Okay, Theo. I can take him in.” Browley sighed and scratched at her wet forehead. “I swear, you and
摘要：

 FontArial FontColorblack FontSize12    BackgroundColorwhiteDARKWATCHERByLilithSaintcrowContentsChapterOneChapterTwoChapterThreeChapterFourChapterFiveChapterSixChapterSevenChapterEightChapterNineChapterTenChapterElevenChapterTwelveChapterThirteenChapterFourteenChapterFifteenChapterSixteenChapterSeve...

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