The Watchers by Mark Andrew Olsen Read Free Book Online

Do not concern yourself with that. As I said already, I have invited you here for a great honor. In fact, tonight you have catapulted to the very highest privilege our Brotherhood can offer. A status far higher than my own. As I told you before, our masters have asked you to join them.”
    â€œHow do I do this? Join them, I mean. If they’re disembodied . . .”
    â€œA most practical, commonsense question. I respect that. One whose answer I suspect you already are beginning to guess.”
    â€œAnd the answer is?”
    He was beginning to tire of all the evasions.
    â€œI’ll have to take your life, of course.”
    The younger man felt his fingers quiver. A dead weight plummeted from his grasp and the sound of shattering glass reached him from a strange distance—a hollow sound from a faraway room.
    â€œYes. Again, remember: It is the highest honor imaginable. I do not know if it is a result of your abject failure, or some inadvertent triumph. At this point, as I’ve said before, it matters little. All I know is that my personal master, who stands here with us on this veranda right now, has asked to consume you and bring you into himself.”
    The host reached out and caressed the younger man’s forearm. He spoke in a lascivious whisper. “It is forward and rather off-putting for a man to touch another in this manner, is it not? But can you brush away my hand? I rather doubt it. That’s because the paralyzing agent in your whiskey is taking effect right on schedule. Death is the medium of our commerce, you understand that. In your case, an exquisite agony which will produce the very sweetest and highest communion imaginable. And the more prolonged it is, the more exalted it will be.”
    The Elder knelt now in the front of the immobilized man.
    â€œI will give you a choice. I am about to flay you alive over the course of many hours. You will feel every twinge, for while the agent has paralyzed your limbs, it is expressly designed not to impair sensation. You wouldn’t believe the chemical balancing act required to bring that off. Then I can either dissolve you, quite slowly, in hydrochloric acid, or, since you enjoyed tonight’s aerial display as much as I did, I can feed you one morsel at a time to these remarkable seabirds. So— blink once for the acid, twice for the birds. Your eyelids will be functional for another minute or so.”
    The killer closed his eyes and kept them shut. He clamped them as tightly as his body’s last flutters of electrical energy would allow.
    â€œFine. I’ll take that as two . Here’s the scalpel.”
    The old man knelt and plucked a generous shred from his shoulder. He held it up and allowed a fine spray of crimson droplets to fly into a sudden gust of wind.
    â€œBirdies! Come here, sweethearts . . .”
    LATER
    The furious flock remained, hovering, over the beach house veranda for most of the day. Passersby along the sands of America’s most famous beach shook their heads and concluded that the home’s eccentric owner had taken his odd passion for the birds to a new height of generosity.

CHAPTER
_ 6
    WESTWOOD MERCY HOSPITAL —THREE WEEKS LATER
    The door was opening; Abby’s eyes flew open. Then, seeing the expression on her doctor’s face, she felt her heart sink. The man’s eyes were almost half shut with the heaviness of someone facing a dreaded task. Her father and Teresa followed with their gazes averted. Her father seemed to be breathing strangely. She thought Teresa’s eyes looked red and puffy.
    They slunk in and sat in twin chairs at the far corner while the doctor settled on the end of her bed and gave her a smile not matching the cast of his eyes.
    â€œAbby.”
    He said it flatly, like a statement.
    â€œAre you gonna level with me now?” she asked.
    He shut his eyes against the frustration in her voice. “Now, there’s no need to talk like that.