Awakening

  The Watchers Trilogy

  AWAKENING

  KARICE BOLTON

  Copyright © 2011 Karice Bolton

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any printed or electronic form without permission from the author.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, places, and events either are the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Cover design: PhatpuppyArt.com

  DEDICATION

  To all of the people in my life who always tell me to go for it!

  Love you my dude! Jon, you are the best husband a girl could ask for…

  Mom, thank you for always giving me encouragement and to my dad who is watching down over us all!

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  I want to say a simple thank you to Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and all of the other avenues available for the indie publishing world. It allows the art of storytelling to continue to flourish in unexpected ways!

  Also to my wonderful and very patient editor – you know who you are.

  NEXT IN THE TRILOGY:

  LEGIONS

  BOOK 2 OF THE WATCHERS TRILOGY

  BY

  KARICE BOLTON

  TO CONTACT THE AUTHOR PLEASE VISIT HER WEBSITE AT

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  KARICEBOLTON

  CHAPTER 1

  The screams shot me out of bed; my heart pounding seventy miles an hour. I felt for my fleece blanket to throw off since I seemed to be stuck to my sheets with a million gallons of sweat. I looked around my blackened room, with only the red glow of the alarm clock displaying 3:00 am to comfort me. My heart sank as I lost the battle for another night’s sleep. I heard the gentle snore of my bulldog, Matilda, rattling through the air. She was used to my screams by now. I promised myself with a little whisper that I was safe. It was only a nightmare – another nightmare. That is all it was. It couldn’t possibly be real, that kind of terror. The dreams were coming closer together now, and, worse yet, they seemed to lead to nowhere but sleep deprivation.

  I commanded myself to take deep, steady breaths to calm myself. Still breathless and shaky from the last images that had blasted into my brain, I tried to rid myself of the most awful scene replaying over and over - that of my demise. The mere thought of the attacks made me want to hide in my closet from the world. The black swirling creatures were coming at me and through me from every direction. Their mouths open, displaying several sets of teeth, blood dripping from their lips waiting for me to make a mistake. This was not a world I recognized. How my mind could even create such deadly monsters I didn’t know. The elements of realism spooked me beyond belief. I grabbed a tissue from my nightstand and wiped the dampness from my forehead, unsure of how much longer I could keep this up. Every night and every dream seemed to be different. They all had similar storylines, to a degree. Sometimes the unfamiliar characters reappeared to haunt me over and over again. It just depended on the night. Part of me felt as if I should know these people or maybe at least the events that kept taking place. Why else would they keep reappearing? However, the events were so fantastical the thought that I should recognize them made me feel even crazier for thinking it.

  Fully awake now and completely disappointed in the prospect of another long and drawn out day without sleep, I trudged to the window and opened my heavy, red velvet curtains to expose the calmness of an outside world in an attempt to calm my own mind down. The snow was slowly floating down from the sky leaving a beautiful pattern on the sidewalk, illuminated only by the streetlight. The sight brought a shiver to my bones even though only a minute ago I had to wipe away the wet heat of fear off of my body. I couldn’t keep chasing and being chased like this. I couldn’t constantly go on thinking my life was in danger whenever I closed my eyes. I needed rest. I needed sleep. Lack of sleep was only making it worse. I was sure of it.

  “What is all of this telling me? I don’t even know the people in my dreams!” I whined to Matilda.

  She responded with her usual snorts and snores sprawling out even more on my mattress now that I had left a larger area for her enjoyment. I flipped on my nightstand light that cast its familiar glow, attempting to move back into bed without displacing Matilda. A sigh escaped as I grabbed my latest book to read, which was ready and waiting for another night like all of the others.

  I opened the book to the third chapter as my mind attempted to identify who the people in my dream were this time. Seeing crumpled remnants of humans discarded all over was never something that I could get used to regardless of it being a nightmare or not. I was getting used to seeing the swirls appear to attack me, but I was also intrigued at the thought of trying to figure out who the random strangers were who appeared time and time again. Sometimes they were the same people. Other times, a completely new set would make an entrance. I always avoided looking into their eyes because during one of my very first nightmares all I saw was the dull glow of death staring right back at me. I couldn’t stomach it twice, and somehow my subconscious knew to never look them in the eyes, whoever they were.

  Thankfully, the latest batch of characters seemed kind. As if I knew them from somewhere, although that wasn’t possible. I’m sure they must have made an appearance in my other dreams at some point. I just don’t remember them. One stood out in particular. He was trying to save me but it was too late. The black soulless swirls got me. My nightmares never had gotten to that point before. Never did I know the conclusion to these nightmarish adventures before tonight.

  This time, I saw how it ended. I didn’t make it. It wasn’t a painful process. I didn’t feel tortured. It seemed like I should have felt the attack. I didn’t. What I was left with was the most awful feelings of despair and loneliness wrapping their way through every aspect of my life. My soul felt like an empty cavern as I saw myself being blown away into the wind. I remember looking back at the strangers on the ground. They were looking up towards the sky at me as I left to wherever bodiless souls go. The one guy who was so memorable was staring back at me, tears streaming down his face. He was the one who tried to save me. He risked his own life against the monsters to save me. He was only a minute too late. My heart now longed for him, this figment of my imagination. I didn’t know why.

  I couldn’t shake the images this time. They were too haunting, too real. And now I was going crazy believing that these things had some sort of significance. Lack of sleep was finally catching up with my fragile state of mind.

  CHAPTER 2

  The Grizzly Bear lodge was packed as usual for this time of night. I glanced around the restaurant as everyone was trickling in, partially undressing from their long day of romancing the powder. The pub was ideally situated at the base of Whistler Mountain, capitalizing on location rather than menu selection, but I enjoyed working here. It felt like home or at least as close to that as I could feel. I tried to shake off my long disastrous night of sleep while preparing for my shift. The images of my demise kept creeping into my thoughts. What was worse was that those images were virtually impossible, yet they plagued me tremendously creating a pit in my stomach. I tried shaking the feelings of despair that kept trying to interfere with my ability to get back to my routine.

  Outside the snow was gently falling and the night barely beginning. It was early in the season, and only the upper half of the mountain was open, but it was enough to kick off the ski season in Whistler. There were the usual suspects scattered around the pub; the guys in their 20s who had been taking nips from their flasks all day on the mountain in between runs, attempting to quickly get their server
’s attention for more beer. Then there were the tables with the wives and girlfriends eagerly awaiting their other half, done up all cute, only highlighting the fact that they had spent the day at the spa not the slopes, and, of course, the locals chatting up the bartender and grabbing the latest news on the hockey game.

  This was the best part of my job, the people watching. Unfortunately, at times, it could be the worst part of my job. There were those days, and not all that few and far between, when it emphasized how alone I really was. As I puzzled over this fact, I quickly grabbed the next round of drinks from the bar and went to the corner table to deliver their long awaited goods. I was taking over the table from Karen who had to leave the pub rather quickly. It was unusual for her and I hoped everything was ok. I made a mental note to give her a call when I got home.

  I scooted between the wooden chairs that were now being shuffled around the tables to make room for everyone coming into the pub. The restaurant was getting packed early tonight. The sound of the chairs scraping and clunking on the well-worn wood floors gave me warning that tonight was going to be a busy night. Exactly what I needed to keep my mind occupied.

  The antique snowshoes that were balancing so delicately on the wall snagged my ponytail as I tried to make my way through the tables, and, thankfully, no one saw as I fought with the decorations. Once I became unsnarled from the thoughtfully placed décor, I made my way to the table waiting for me and, more importantly, their drinks.

  “Harmless.” I whispered as I approached the table Karen had left. I saw a man with dark golden hair gently nuzzling a woman’s neck with his nose. She was thoroughly enjoying his affection. It was as if they were literally one unit. It made me chuckle. I’m not sure exactly why - maybe it was because it was a bit like my bulldog’s reaction to me when I got home from work, or maybe it was my nervous chuckle that would always appear when I longed for something I couldn’t have, or more appropriately, never have had - except in my dreams.

  Regardless, when I appeared with the drinks they both looked up at me with the most staggering eyes. I was immediately jolted out of my doldrums. Their eyes were the most brilliant green that I had ever seen, like an emerald. Their green eyes were filled with dark black centers, outlined with striking jets of yellow. It made my blood freeze. These two strangers were so familiar feeling. I almost gasped aloud but caught myself. My arms became weak, but I somehow managed to keep the tray steady. I stared in silence not sure what came over me as I tried to gain my composure. Instead, all that happened was that I couldn’t concentrate. I felt faint. I looked at both of them again and realized they both had the same look in their eyes, almost the same eyes. The shape was different, hers more of an almond shape. His deeper set, but nonetheless the expression and color were the same. My heart started beating too fast for its own good and I suddenly was alive, a feeling I had not felt for a long time – if ever. I placed my hand over the rat’s nest in my hair that the snowshoe fiasco created, trying to smooth it down. Attempting anything to try to look at least somewhat presentable around these unusually perfect creatures.

  My fingertips were zinging with electricity as I grabbed the coasters and placed them in front of the couple. I tried to hide the smile that was coming across my face as I placed the napkins on the table. I caught at that moment that they, too, were taking me in. Strangely they didn’t seem the least bit unnerved by my reaction to them. Maybe I was doing a better job of hiding my emotions than I thought. I doubted that though.

  I was preparing to place the woman’s mulled cider in front of her when I noticed I had three drinks for the table, but only two people anxiously awaiting them. I nervously looked at the woman as I tried so very hard to speak, but nothing would come out. I grabbed the mug of hot, steaming mulled cider and tried to place it in front of her as carefully as possible without spilling. My hands were shaking, and I couldn’t fathom what was taking place. I looked at this woman who was the most ethereal, enchanting person I had ever seen, that is, besides the person sitting next to her. She was otherworldly. That wasn’t possible though. I was losing my mind. These nightmares finally caught up to me; lack of sleep now threatening my sanity. However, I couldn’t shrug off their familiarity, knowing I had never seen them here in Whistler before only left one option that didn’t seem plausible.

  Wonderful feelings were drifting over me, wrapping every part of my body in an almost loving embrace. I didn’t want to look away. I didn’t want to lose these feelings. Their stares were too mesmerizing to look away. I had to control myself. I didn’t want them to see my reaction any longer. This was way too bizarre. It had to be because of my lack of sleep.

  An eternity seemed to go by as I was drinking everything in about this couple, but, in actuality, it was only a mere second. My life stood still. After I glided the Blue Sapphire martini to the man without a drop spilt, I quickly spun around and headed back to the safety of the bar register. Glancing quickly at them, I noticed they, too, were staring directly at me, smiling as if they knew something was about to take place. I couldn’t look at them anymore. I had to come back to reality. I cursed my dull brown hair as it kept falling in my face, blocking my view of them. I shoved my hair behind my ear so I could at least get one last peek of them.

  Once I came back to earth as best as possible, I noticed that I had left the tray and the third drink on the table. Rather than go back to the table I sprinted to the bathroom. Not knowing what was happening to me, I needed a moment to get myself back together. I swung open the bathroom door only to have the wooden sleigh crash against the door with a loud thud, yet another piece of décor out to get me. Everything in the Grizzly was placed with such great intention, which usually comforted me, but now it all seemed to get in my way. I needed to get to the sink and figure things out. I hoped I wasn’t getting the flu. Maybe I had caught whatever it was that made Karen go home for the night. Any sort of bug compounded with the lack of sleep that I had been getting was a recipe for a disastrous event such as this one.

  As I splashed water feverishly over my face I couldn’t stop thinking about the two people I encountered. What was it about them that made me feel this way and yearn for them? It was a euphoric sense that flooded over me. As I stood and looked in the mirror I saw my reflection, wishing I hadn’t splashed all my makeup off, especially since I would be serving them for the rest of the night, the golden gods. Compared to the woman sitting at the table I looked like a disheveled rat to match my hair. My store bought brown hair looked especially lousy at a time like this. It made me wish I kept my natural auburn color.

  I stared at my eyes reflecting in the mirror hoping to repair the mascara that dribbled down my cheek. Realizing there was no hope I wiped it off completely. I looked at myself again, wondering if the dark brown eyes staring back at me would ever have light in them instead of the blank stare that usually surfaced. Not remembering much of my childhood, except for the memories that were told to me, always made me feel so alone, no siblings, no parents – only newspaper clippings. That is what I always blamed my lackluster expression on. Not feeling life became my comfort. When too much interaction began, that was my cue to exit the situation or leave the people behind, that’s how I came to Whistler.

  I heard laughing behind me and turned to see two bubbly ski bunnies bundled in cashmere coming through the door, obviously enjoying the evening. I tried not roll my eyes and just flashed them a smile. I grabbed the paper towel dangling for me, did one last wipe of my cheeks and left the restroom.

  The pub was really hustling now. I could hear the clanking of beer mugs and the chatter an octave higher. Buckets of beer, the nightly special, were parading from one table to the next like a revolving door. The lighting went down a shade and the stone fireplace began roaring in the far corner right on time. I saw the newest group sitting in my section and quickly went over to take their drink order. As I heard the drink orders rattled off, I cautiously glanced at the couple I had left so feverishly and noticed Jen, another server on
for the night, had graciously removed the tray and placed the third drink on a coaster in front of the empty chair. There was still no one sitting there. I was secretly relieved. I didn’t need another perfect human adding to the complexity of that table or the emotions running through me for that matter. I somehow knew I wasn’t coming down with the flu. There was something about these people that lured me in.

  “Miss,” I heard pointedly, “Can we add a starter of poutine to our order?”

  “Of course! I will put that right in.” My smile returning to my face, I took a deep breath, and continued on with my busy night. I was so thankful I had a full section tonight. I was certainly a creature of habit.

  I was entering the poutine into the computer, when a wave of ice-cold, electrifying air penetrated me right through to my core. It was as if my bones would shatter with the slightest movement. I looked over at the front entrance expecting it to be open, but it wasn’t. I quickly looked around to gauge anyone else’s reaction, knowing I couldn’t trust my own with my sleep deprivation. Then, right before me, I saw the third person sitting at my favorite table. He had arrived. It was from him that I was feeling the electricity. They were looking at me again, all except the newcomer. It was as if they were evaluating me, my reaction. Silly as it seemed, that’s what they had to be doing. But for what reason?

  From behind, I could tell that he was really well dressed. He was very firm, very upright, very oddly upright. He sat so still, almost like a statue. It struck me kind of funny, but in a good way. He, too, had golden brown hair. His looked a little less perfect, a little more disheveled, than his friends or relatives or whoever was with him at the table. I liked it. There was a bedraggled, rugged look about him - perfectly so. If he looked half as good as he did from the back I couldn’t wait to see him from the front. If only I could compose myself. Not that I had a shot, but at least I could admire.