Pertaining to the Prologue: Sorry, I should've said this in the previous chapter, but I feel obligated to point out that the Greek (in the dialogue) may be incorrect. I got the translations from Google Translate and I don't know how accurate it is.
I don't own Unnatural History, but I do own the narrator and all his little monster buddies.
I'm not changing or replacing the episodes, only adding to them. This is all the stuff that "happened" during or in between the episodes.
So yeah, this isn't your typical fanfiction. You might want to brace yourself.
Crowded places are insanely frustrating when you have to be invisible. You have to remember that everyone else has the right of way, and you have to be really careful not to run into anybody. One time I bumped into this old lady and she looked so startled and bewildered that I was afraid she'd have a heart attack. The face she made was funny as hell though, and I laughed. Boy, was I thankful she couldn't hear me.
I'm a Shroud. When I make myself invisible, no one can see me, hear me, smell me, or even feel my presence. They could kind of feel me, I guess, but it's like pressure, like an unseen force field. I can also make other things disappear like me, the most important being my clothes. Walking around as a shirt and a pair of pants would totally freak people out. There are probably a billion and one spectacular things to do with my power, but I know I wouldn't be allowed to do most of them. There are rules. As much as I would love to stun people with my ability to make a blue whale disappear (top that, David Copperfield!), I can't use my power to get famous. Pick-pocketing is easy too, but stealing isn't generally allowed either. Playing "Haunt the House" sounds like fun, but I'd get in serious trouble for terrorizing innocent people (unless it's Halloween: that's when I get to scare the crap out of as many people as I want). Murder is only okay when it's a Marked One, which is a depraved, remorseless person marked by Nemesis for execution. And they aren't just killed: they're eaten. That's right: if you make the naughty list, you better watch out, 'cause there are monsters out there like me who are craving some Manwich meat.
Speaking of Manwich meat, that's another thing about crowded places like the one I'm in now. This airport would be a great place to hunt down some wretches, but I'm here on a mission.
The Alphas asked me to be the next Primary Watcher. Out of the thousand-ish Shrouds, I get to be the Primary Watcher in Washington, D.C! I'm not thrilled I have to be in this city again, what with all the bad memories, but hey, I do what the Alphas tell me to. You have to be experienced to be considered as a Watcher, which I am. Age equals experience when it comes to Immortals, and I was kickin' it when Christopher Columbus was trying to find a better route to the Indies. You have to be trustworthy too, and I'm not like one of those weak, selfish rebels who have defected over to the dark side. I'm perfect for this job.
I've been leaning against this wall for an hour waiting for my assignment to arrive. Why did I get here so early? Dozens of people mill around the terminal, but none of them him. His stupid plane hasn't arrived yet.
The Alphas had shown me his picture so I know who to look for. With my impeccable photographic memory it's like I'm still holding the photo in my hand. He is a fairly attractive sixteen-year-old Caucasian male with honey-blonde hair and blue-green eyes. He'd be alone, out of place, and completely unaware of his importance to us.
His previous Primary Watcher in Bhutan had contacted me to tell me what to expect. Apparently this kid's a handful. The Watcher said it in much harsher words, though. "He's a nightmare!" Ankur ranted in Hindi, "It's like he thinks he's immortal! Always jumping off of things and fighting things and making dangerous people angry… Even with the Secondary Watcher's help, it's a chore just to keep him alive!" I gotta admit that it sounded like stuff an Immortal would do. I'm an Immortal and those are my three favorite past times. It's not like any of it can kill me. Immortals never got in trouble for behavior like that, but mortals are another story. We find it both incredible and annoying when they seem to lack self-preservation. He also told me the horror stories the other Watchers told him, and now I'm actually a little worried if I can do this.
Ankur didn't have only bad things to say about him, of course. He said the kid was downright lovable. The boy was caring, brave, sensitive, innocent, talented, wise, funny… and if I let anything happen to him, Ankur would dismember me and bury the pieces so far apart it would take decades for them to find each other and reassemble. Ankur may have sounded relieved that his time as Glorified Babysitter was over, but he had clearly gotten attached to the kid. I guess that meant this boy was something wonderful, but then again Nymphs were known to be emotional and sentimental.
I'm tired of hearing all the hustle-bustle around me, so I get out my iPod. Technically it isn't mine: I whacked a black widow ten days ago and I found it on her person. There's no rule against stealing from Marked Ones. For a homicidal gold-digger, she had pretty good taste in music. I had expected a Gucci-wearing hoochie like her to have a bunch of shallow girly music, but there's mostly alternative rock and some Top 40 stuff that's not half bad. "Guilty Pleasure" by Cobra Starship starts playing and I sing along loudly. I love singing and dancing in busy places when I'm invisible. I'd dance now if I had the room.
Man I wish I could go sit in a chair, but someone would probably sit on me. And I can't be visible while I wait, because then people might notice me. I'd get hit on or someone might try to start a conversation with me or notice that I haven't showered in a while.
It's not like I'm not totally hygienic, I just don't always have a place to get clean, or sleep for that matter. It was my choice to be homeless. I mean what Immortal wants to go through the hassle of obtaining a fake identity and building a life and paying taxes? Keeping your immortality a secret is much harder when you live that way. That's why I decided that if I wanted a shower I'd just sneak into someone's empty house to take one. And sleeping outside isn't so bad when you don't have to worry as much about the elements. I prefer bunking down in a tree myself. Eating isn't that big of a deal either, because money isn't that essential. I can kill and eat an uncooked animal carcass, and I like raw rabbit meat better than Doritos, anyway. Everything I own is in my backpack and most of that I stole off the people I've killed. My underwear and the other stuff that I wouldn't want secondhand I bought with the money I found in their wallets. Also, being homeless made it that much easier for me to move here from Tallahassee after I was assigned the job.
The plane's pulling in: it's about time. Ever since the Alphas told me about him and what he means for the Twelve Races, I've been so eager to meet him. Ankur's account only made me more impatient. I turn off my iPod and walk to his gate and stand by the giant glass window-wall. People and people and more people are coming out, but I still don't see him. Oh no, He's not in trouble, is he? I so wouldn't be surprised…
Oh wait, there he is! The Alphas were right; he does stick out. He's wearing a striped orange shirt, a bunch of bracelets, khaki cargo pants, and sandals. I know that doesn't sound all that weird, but you don't see many people dressed like that in the U.S. His wardrobe is a bit hippie-ish. Man, I really hope he isn't a hippie. I couldn't stand them in the 60's and I can't stand them now.
I stride over and walk beside him. "So, you're the Notorious Pain in the Ass? I assumed you'd be taller. What are you, five foot nine? You're only an inch taller than me!" I say, knowing full well he can't hear me. "But good gravy, you're adorable! Juss wookadat face!" I want to pinch his cheek, but I know I shouldn't.
I know talking to someone (well it's more like talking at someone) when they can't hear you must seem pretty weird, but it kind of comes with the territory. It's a Shroud thing. We've recently named it the Wilson Complex, like from the movie Castaway, where the guy talked to a volleyball he named Wilson even though he knew he wouldn't get an answer. I've heard that some Shrouds don't like to do it because it makes them feel ignored, but I love it. It's like yelling at the TV, only better.
We make it to baggage claim and wait for his luggage. "I'm Dimitri, by the way. I won't bother telling you my last name, 'cause it's very long and very Russian." The guy just keeps looking around the airport, oblivious to my presence. He really does look out of place, lost even. Poor kid. "I don't know your name. It's sort of an initiation thing for the new Watcher to figure it out. I hope it says it on your bag, 'cause I'm tired of calling you Kid." A khaki duffle bag turns the corner on the carousel conveyor-belt thingy, and he picks it up. After he slings it over his shoulder, I look for the info tag. I find it just as he starts walking off, so I have to read it as I follow him. "No way… Your name is Henry Griffin? Griffin? Is that seriously your surname?" Gryphons are one of the Twelve Races. This is just too good. "Wow. You really don't know how fitting that is, considering what you're meant for."
He heads outside. I'm surprised when he doesn't hail a taxi. "You're gonna walk the whole way?" He continues down the sidewalk and pulls out a piece of paper with directions on it. As he studies it I realize he's serious. "Okay, fine, I like walking. There's nothing like a five mile stroll." I really don't have a problem with it: I'm always full of energy, and five miles really is a stroll for me. It's this guy I'm worried about. He's just a fragile little mortal boy, and he already looks tired. I guess I'll just have to keep an eye on him.
As we make it through the city, I watch Henry take in his surroundings. He seems uncomfortable as we weave in and out of the huge crowds. I wish I could let him know he's not alone, but I'm not allowed. He's never allowed to know I'm here, ready to help him if he needs me. The only time I can ever really interfere with his life is if he would absolutely definitely die without my help. So all I can do now is help him shove his way through the throng and make sure no one mugs him.
We finally make it to his destination. Holy Schnikes, it's my old high school! I went to Smithson High in 1952, back when it was brand spankin' new. That might be why the Alphas put me in charge in D.C., because they knew Henry would go here and I'd know the layout of the building already. It's cool I guess, but the sight of it sure isn't bringing back entirely pleasant memories. In fact, the flashbacks are about as painful as getting punched in the nose by a big angry biker wearing brass knuckles. But I'm just gonna have to deal, because being a wussy is not an option.
Henry gets to the door, but it's locked and no one will let him in. Instead of waiting or finding another door like a normal person, he climbs. He scales the frickin' wall like a frickin' capuchin and climbs in through a frickin' window. I follow him up with enviable ease.
The room looks a little like an attic. It's very rafter-y. Henry walks across the beam-thing-a-ma-bobs, presumably looking for a way down. Then a bat comes rushing at him out of nowhere and throws him off balance. I panic like a little girl and reach for him, but I miss. Luckily, he lands in the open coffin below us and doesn't die.
Oh, boy. This is the auditorium, and for some reason there's a funeral going on. I'm still up in the attic-thingy, looking down at the coffin. When Henry fell in, the lid closed, and now I'm waiting anxiously for him to open it. I breathe a sigh of relief when he does, but there's a man standing by the coffin, and I'm afraid he's going to make sure Henry gets punished or something.
"Uncle Bryan!" Henry greets the man. I'm pretty sure this is the guy Henry is going to be living with. I wish him luck.
I have to run after the car as Uncle Bryan drives Henry home: it's too risky to try to sneak into the back seat. The running isn't really that strenuous; going this fast for this distance is like a jog down the driveway for me.
We make it to Uncle B's place. It's a swank house in the suburbs. Manicured lawn, landscaping, two-car garage… The place is so nice and quaint it makes me wonder if the Cleavers live here. "Nice digs," I say as Henry gets out of the car. I think he says something about his godfather Dante being a hyena, but I'm not sure because I'm too distracted by the two-story slice of normalcy.
I stay out in the hallway as Uncle Bryan leads Henry into his new room. Another boy is already in there.
"I'm sure you remember your cousin, Jasper." says Henry's uncle.
The boy takes off his headphones. He's got chestnut brown hair and big brown eyes.
"'Sup, Cuz?" greets Jasper.
"Supticuz?" Henry replies, confused and apparently unfamiliar with the term.
The boy rolls his eyes and clarifies. "What is up, cousin?"
After Henry nods in understanding, the uncle tells Jasper to help him unpack.
When he leaves I go stand in the bedroom. Jasper starts telling Henry all the rules. No touching his stuff, stay on your side of the room, yadda, yadda, yadda. It turns out that he's still mad about something Henry did to him six years ago. Dude, so what if he caught you in a trap which scared the living daylights out of you and made you pee your pants? I don't like him very much so far.
"Listen, Doe Eyes," I begin as he continues to tell Henry what he can and can't do, "He really doesn't need you being a jerk right now. It was a long flight, he's hungry, he's clearly out of his element, and his Godfather is dead. So do your cousin a favor and just shut it and help him unpack." Eventually he did, which almost made me feel like I helped.
We're now out on the roof. Not the roof roof: it's that mini roof thing between the first and second stories. He's playing a drum and he looks a little sad. The music is slow and entrancing.
"Hey, that's a sick beat. Where'd you learn to play like that?" I say, wishing he could hear me, "So I heard your uncle say you start school tomorrow. I wouldn't worry about it. You'll make lots of friends." Of course he just keeps playing, because he doesn't know I'm here. I really want to make him feel better.
I figure now is as good a time as any to give him the skinny on what's going down. "Here's the deal, Sparky," I start, knowing I might as well be talking to a wall, "I've been assigned to be your Primary Watcher while you're in D.C. That means I'm supposed to protect you. It's pretty much the same as a babysitter or bodyguard, but whatever. The job comes with a fancy title because it's a way bigger deal than making sure a three-year-old doesn't choke on his cheerios or taking a bullet for a dignitary. You're destined…"
How do I phrase this? Do I just come out and say he's basically destined to save the world? I mean he is, kinda, 'cause he's going to do the Twelve Races a major solid. He's going to save us from the imminent threat of war and betrayal. And if the Twelve Races are in turmoil, then the world is.
"Okay, so there was this prophecy, which turned out to be a prophecy about you, mostly because you found the Tomb of the Most Ancient One. Well, actually you found the Siren's Heart first, and then the Tomb. Do you remember doing that? You were twelve at the time." There are Twelve Races and he was twelve when he found the Tomb. Hmm. "You were in Crete with your parents on an archaeological dig. The site wasn't far from a forest, a forest which was said to be inhabited by a fearsome monster. Of course you went looking for the monster, because you're an insane, danger-loving little boy. You met Pan, but to you he just looked like a portly man in a brown tweed suit. He was there to stop bad people from finding the Tomb, and I guess he didn't see you as a threat. Apparently he thought it was hilarious that you lit up with excitement when you heard the monster roar. You fell down an incline and Peter the Werewolf found you. Peter was the Guardian of the Tomb at the time. He was in his human form, so you had no idea that he was the monster you'd been looking for. When he saw that you had landed at the entrance to the Tomb, he totally freaked. We'd been waiting three-thousand years for that, Henry. You getting the Heart and stumbling on the Tomb meant that it was time to revive Mother, which was wonderful because all us descendants were dying to meet her.
"The Alphas maybe the Firsts of the Twelve Races, but Mother is the one who gave birth to the Alphas. She's the most powerful of us all. She's the one and only Siren, the most beautiful woman in the world… and you're destined to fall in love with her." Why didn't I start out with that to begin with? "You'll fall in love with Zosima, the most beautiful woman in the world, and she'll make you immortal so you can be with her forever. And that's how you'll save us.
"See, she's had some really bad luck with men. She's tried having flings with mortal men, but she always got so attached which isn't good because mortals die, and that always bummed her out. And if she were to ever get used to this and remain detached, then she'd probably end up not caring about them, which could lead to her losing her compassion for humanity. That would be really bad. It would be super convenient if she could just pick one and make him immortal, but it doesn't work that way. Contrary to popular belief, Monsteritis can't be contracted through a bite or an exchange of blood; it's completely genetic.
"As much as Zeus and a few other gods want her, she refuses to have a relationship with someone she knows is unfaithful or taken or both. Even if she did cave in, it'd only lead to her heart being broken, because the gods (especially Zeus) are usually the bang her/ leave her types.
"And sure, the Twelve Races are immortal, but we're her children and that'd be like, really gross.
"And then there's this guy, Erebos… He is one bad cat. He's the father of all the Infernals. That's what we call the evil monsters, like Dragons and Unicorns and Furies. He wants to shack up with her because he thinks he can spawn stronger monsters if he mates with her. If she in her loneliness gives into him, it's all over. He'd corrupt her, and we'd all be torn between obeying Mother and doing what's right.
"She can't be alone for the rest of eternity, so that's why Zeus allowed her one chance at happiness: that one chance is you. You're the only person she can make immortal." As I pause in my monologue, Henry stops playing and leans his head against the window frame. I'm glad he can't hear me, because this is a lot to process.
"She doesn't know about the prophecy, or about you. The Alphas didn't tell her because she might get too hasty and turn you too soon. And if she found out about you and then you died… Well, to say she'd be totally crushed is an understatement." Henry looks up at the stars. I bet he's noticing how few of them there are compared to the remote and beautiful places he usually lives.
"You get to meet her next year. It was supposed to be this year, but the Alphas said they're not sure she's ready just yet. They also said something about you probably needing time to adjust to this place. That could be true, but between you and me, I think they're scared." He turns and crawls nimbly through the window. At last, he's going to go to sleep.
"Night, kid." I say as he gets comfortable in his hammock. "I'll be here if you need me."
Going to Smithson High the following morning felt like major déjà vu. The atmosphere is pretty much the same, except now there's a computer lab, and the boys wear their pants really low and none of the girls have Mamie bangs.
I'm following Henry who's following Jasper to their first class, and Jasper is telling Henry about the teachers and other helpful stuff. I'd eavesdrop on the conversation, but I'd rather listen to my iPod. Not the gold-digger's iPod: I mean the other one I stole from a stone cold gangsta. Sure there's hardcore rap, but there's also some fun songs on it, too. I'm dancing to "Bust a Move" by Young M.C. as I invisibly make my way down the hallway.
I take out my earbuds and shut off my iPod once I'm in the classroom. There's bird stuff, like, everywhere. I see the teacher writing on the board.
"Welcome to Ornithology 101" He begins, turning to face the class."Birds, birds, birds... What can I say about birds that might capture the imagination of twenty twittering teens?"
He actually kind of looks like a bird; his beady eyes, big beaky nose, and chicken lips make me think he might have a perch instead of a chair. He also looks like he had his sense of humor surgically removed. Dude, this guy reminds me of my crotchety English teacher from back in the day. But he reminds me of another teacher even more...
"Holy crap, it's Professor Snape." I say under my breath about the irritable man who's now writing "Chapters 1-5" on the board.
He addresses the class again. "All you devotees of basic cable nature shows know with certainty that the cheetah is the fastest animal on earth... and you're wrong. It's a bird. Which bird?"
I watch as only one hand goes up. It's a girl: the kind of girl that other girls would be jealous of. Long, dark, silky tresses, gorgeous brown eyes, and a nice slender figure. The teacher permits her to speak.
"The spine tailed swift, also known as the white throated needletail, has reached recorded speeds of one hundred six miles per hour, which is why they call it a swift." The super-hot version of Hermione Granger says with cool confidence.
"Somebody did their summer reading." The bird guy takes a moment to glare at Henry. As he walks back to the board, Henry speaks.
"The swift isn't always the swiftest."
The Professor doesn't look too happy "Ah, if it isn't the young man who helped my father rest in pieces yesterday." The mean teacher replies. The class brakes out in laughter.
Henry looks a little vexed. "And again, I apologize for that."
"For future reference, Mr. Griffin, students only speak when called upon... or there are consequences." The grouch gets back to his lecture. "We begin in 1859, the year Darwin's Origin of Species was published. Now some of his theory was hatched by his observation on the importance of beak size – "
"Excuse me, sir, but to finish," Henry interjects without bothering to raise his hand. I don't see this ending well. "Peregrine falcons can reach speeds up to two hundred miles an hour diving for prey. I've seen them in Java..."
Henry trails off as Snape inserts a "1" in front of the "5", making the board read "Chapters 1-15". The whole class groans.
Ouch. Ten points from Gryffindor.
Later, when class is over and everyone is filing out, I have to stand by as some big dumb jerk shoves Henry through the doorway.
"'I've seen them in Java.'" He mutters, mocking Henry. "Loser."
"Hey!" Henry asserts, but the bully keeps walking. I'll make sure to punish the insufferable clod later. Maybe I'll tie his shoelaces together or put a beehive in his locker.
Then the hot Hermione Granger comes out of the classroom and approaches Henry. "FYI, the swift is the swiftest."
"No... FIY... it's not."
"The teacher was asking about level motion, not gravity assisted plunge diving. If that was the case, I could shove you out of a 747 and crown you the world's fastest beast." She says rudely and with obvious certainty. I have a feeling she used the term "beast" for a specific purpose.
"How dare you deride him with your dizzying intellect!" I exclaim. I officially don't like her anymore. I can't like her if she decides to act like a bitch towards Henry, no matter how insanely hot and smart she is.
Undeterred by her impolite behavior, Henry steps closer and sniffs her. "You smell."
The girl looks a little insecure now, but she answers with sureness. "No, I don't."
"You smell of curried tofu scramble. Are you a vegetarian?" Henry asks without a hint of criticism. I can detect the scent too, but I'm also picking up a strong whiff of this awesome lavender-lilac combination. It's subtle but amazing. Then I remember I've decided not to like her, remind myself that she's a vegetarian (gross), and take a few steps back so her pretty scent can't cloud my judgment.
Little Miss I-Know-Everything quickly turns, checks her breath, and walks off. I'm glad to see Henry has his own way of dealing with jerks.
"Who's that?" Henry asks Jasper, referring to the girl.
His expression is making me uncomfortable. He seems a little too... curious. Henry being curious about a girl is not a good thing, unless that girl is Zosima. Making sure Henry doesn't die is the main job description, but not the only one. I, like the many Watchers before me, have to keep Henry from getting a girlfriend. If he's dating a girl when Mother shows up, we're pretty much screwed, because she does not go after a guy who is already taken. She has a strict policy against home-wrecking, which also applies to all Immortals. So if this is going to work, Henry has to stay single.
"Her name's Margaret Winnock. Some people call her Enig-Maggie." Jasper answers.
Henry turns to face Jasper with a confused expression. "Some people...?"
"Okay, I call her that." I'm not sure, but I think Jasper may be blushing. "Anyway, her dad's a CIA operative or something. She's crazy smart – "
"Ever ask her out?" Henry interrupts with a smirk.
"I... yes, yeah. I mean, what, do I give off some kind of wuss vibe or something?" Jasper stammers, clearly thrown off guard by his cousin's straightforwardness. I have to admit it's pretty amusing seeing Bambi-Boy get all spazzy.
"What did she say?"
"She said absolutely... nothing."
Henry smiles slightly. "She didn't laugh. That's a good sign."
"Yeah, well... I was suppose to practice my saxophone tonight, but now I have to go home and read about finches, all because you had to provoke someone from whom I need an 'A'" I'm not surprised Jasper opted to change the subject.
"I didn't know he'd punish the whole class just because I didn't raise my hand like some circus chimp," Henry argues.
"Cut him some slack; his dad just died!" Jasper counters as he adjusts the strap on his backpack.
"Yeah and he seems real sad about that." says Henry suspiciously as the teacher walks by, "Julian Morneau's definitely a suspect."
"A suspect?" Jasper repeats, sounding as if he thinks the idea is ridiculous. "You know something the coroner doesn't?"
"Not yet. But I might once I get into Dante's office and take a look at the crime scene." Henry seems pretty serious. I bet he's totally going to do it.
"Dude, he was an old man. No crime, ergo no crime scene." Distracted by something on the wall a few yards away, Jasper changes the subject again. "Oh, hurry up before all the good spots are taken."
"Good spots for what?" Henry asks.
"For the study program. Everybody interns at the museum once a week. It's part of the school curriculum." Jasper says as he scans the bulletin board.
"Don't we get any free time?" Henry asks sulkily.
"Welcome to the urban jungle. You want my advice? Get a gig at the DOD.'
"Department of defense?" guesses Henry.
Jasper makes a face. "Division of Dinosaurs. You should fit right in."
I think that sounds pretty cool, but Henry seems to be looking for something in particular. "No, this one." He says, pointing to a paper on the board, "In the Tesla Building, where Dante's office is."
I dutifully (and worriedly) follow Henry through the school and then the museum. This "investigating" business seems like it could turn into a big swirling tornado of trouble. Dante probably died because he was old, but what if Henry's right? That means the guy I'm in charge of protecting is looking for a murderer.
"Seriously, dude? It's only been like twenty-fours and you're already putting yourself in danger?" Potential, highly unlikely danger, but still. "You'd be making my job needlessly hard by throwing yourself into these kinds of situations. How about you work at the library? The worst that can happen to you there is a paper cut."
Henry still has no idea I'm here, so he just keeps walking.
"You know what?" I begin, instilling confidence in my voice, "You go ahead and work near your godfather's office. Snoop around and search for 'clues'. Try to find his 'killer'. Look and look and look all you want, because there's probably nothing for you to find." I don't entirely believe this, but it's helping to soothe my nerves. "There's probably nothing for me to worry about."
A moment later I get that feeling: that comfortable, familiar feeling I get around other Immortals. I look around for the source and find a very old, very wrinkly janitor pushing a custodian cart down the hallway. He looks like a conglomeration of the old guy from the Pixar shorts, the geezer who dances in the six flags commercials, and Gollum. As he gets closer, he looks around as if he senses something.
Keeping an ear out for Henry, who's still heading for the Tesla building, I walk up right behind the stooped old man.
"If you want to talk to me you've got to show yourself, you silly spook." The janitor says quietly.
I crouch behind a stone statue and breathe in deeply, concentrating on becoming visible. As I exhale, I can feel the strange tingling sensation, like dull pins and needles under my skin. I walk out from behind the statue, visible as any regular human being. The trick isn't staying visible or invisible; it's the switching back and forth that takes concentration.
I move to stand in front of the old guy, and he beams at me. "Hello!" he greets in his rickety old man voice.
"Shapeshifter?" I ask, although it comes out as more of a statement.
He nods his head eagerly. "You betcha! Are you the other Watcher? I was told I'd meet the other Watcher today."
"Yeah, but careful, buddy, no one is supposed to talk about that stuff when people can hear." I admonish. "Ditch your cart and we'll go on the roof."
"Okie-dokie!" He says, shuffling after me like he seriously needs a walker.
Once we're finally on the roof, I make us invisible, because you never know who or what is listening. The janitor and I sit on the roof ledge, facing the roof access door.
"So..." I pause to look at his janitor name-patch thingy, "... Melville, before we get started, you might want to change to your true form. It's the polite thing to do. And it's hard to take you seriously when you look like you're probably senile."
"Oh, sorry! Sure thing."
The human prune promptly morphs into a sandy-haired fifteen-year-old boy. His grin is now adorable (though a bit manic) rather than slightly off-putting and his eyes are nearly as blue as mine. I know this guy.
"Carl?"
"Ta-da!" His arms are spread out like an excited child revealing a surprise.
I smile widely. Carl is the Ward of my friend, Virva, whom I hunted Nazis with in World War II. I sit with them and my previous Ward at the Golden Underground every year.
"Good to see you, kid."
"I'm an adult, thank you very much. I turned one hundred twenty-six years ago! I can hunt on my own and canoodle with mortal girls – "
"Then why haven't I seen you fight in the Golden Underground?" I ask, trying not to laugh at his word choice of "canoodle". "You're old enough for that, too."
He pouts. "Virva doesn't want me too."
Seems kind of weird considering that Virva always participates. "Why not?"
"She doesn't like the idea of seeing me get ripped to pieces."
Okay, now that's just illogical. "Dude, you're an Immortal. The pain is brief and the pieces go right back together a minute later."
"That's what I said! But she's not budging, and nobody wants to argue with her about it."
I don't doubt that. She was a freaking death machine in the war and she's just as ruthless in the arena at the Underground. "She probably thinks of you as her kid. During the war she'd take your picture out and talk about how proud she was of you and how she much she missed you."
Carl gets bashful in an aw, shucks sort of way. "She is a mommy, isn't she?" He shook his head as if to focus. "Anyway, sorry, I need you to fill me in on this Watcher stuff..."
"Not much to tell, really. The Secondary Watcher and I... Wait, why do you need to know? And how do you know about it all in the first place?" I gasp. "Is Virva the Secondary? That'd be so great! Although it's a little weird to have a Nymph as a Secondary in a urban area. I was told they were always chosen as Primaries for more remote places."
"Actually, she's already done it. She was the Primary in Peru."
"So... who's my backup?"
Carl grins with enthusiasm. "Me!"
I feel my jaw drop slightly. "You can't be serious."
"Why wouldn't I be?" His expression makes him look like a confused puppy. "Shapeshifters are usually Secondaries. And I'm over one hundred years old and I'm not anywhere near becoming a Rebel..."
He's got to be lying. I mean since he knew that Watchers existed at all, I should've assumed he was the Secondary, because the whole thing about the prophecy is only known by the Alphas and those they choose as Watchers, but come on, him? The Alphas couldn't have possibly thought this kid was capable of being a Watcher. "Show me the tattoo."
"Okie-dokie!" Carl says as he unzips his custodian jumpsuit and pulls down his t-shirt collar. Two inches below his right collar-bone is a palm-sized tattoo of a snake biting its tail in the shape of an infinity sign, the detail down to the last scale so intricate and precise that the snake almost looks real. The ink is an iridescent gray-black- a pigment Immortals extract from Hydra blood. Carl's got the mark of a Watcher, just like me.
This is... well, this is a disaster. I've already got one kid to look after; I don't need to be babysitting this munchkin, either.
I smile brightly, even though I feel like groaning miserably. "Welcome to the club."
I politely excused myself, saying I needed to get back to Henry. I wasn't lying; I did totally need to get back within hearing range. The only thing I left out was that I planned on calling our superiors.
My cellphone, the untraceable kind given to Watchers by the Alphas, rings two and a half times before someone picks up.
"Hello?" A man's voice answered.
My hands feel clammy and my words stick in my throat. Alphas are crazy intimidating, no matter how nice they are. And I was about to complain to them.
"S-Sir?" be cool, man, be cool. I clear my throat. "Sir, we may have a problem concerning the Secondary Watcher."
"At ease, soldier." the voice chuckles, "Why does every Beta- and Gamma-generation Immortal feel like they have to call me Sir? Quit sweating and call me Lukos."
His easygoing manner doesn't really help. Knowing I'm talking to the Alpha Werewolf sort of makes it impossible to chill out. I take a deep breath.
"Lukos," the informality makes me feels so uncouth. "Did you make Carl a Watcher?"
The other end is silent for a moment, then: "Washington, D.C. Secondary Watcher: Carl Huffcup, Shapeshifter. Mortal years: 1885-1900. Birthplace: Baudette, Minnesota. Elder: Virva, Nymph. He's right here on the list."
I fight the urge to sigh miserably as I realize he's registered. "So you remember consulting with the other Alphas about him and everything?"
"Absolutely. He's a little green, but he's trustworthy." I shiver inwardly as his voice drops. "Why? Do you have a problem with this guy?"
"No! He's... great." My tone isn't very convincing.
"Dimitri?" He asks reprovingly.
"Alright, alright! I think he's too immature for this amount of responsibility. There, I said it."
Much to my relief, the Alpha Werewolf laughs. "I'm glad you care so much, but don't let Carl's nature fool you. He's loyal and real handy in a fight."
It's my turn to laugh. "Carl? What, does he 'cute' people to death?"
"Among other things. Just trust our judgment on this one."
His tone suggests that the conversation is over. "Yes, Alpha. Please forgive my insolence."
"There's nothing to forgive, Dimitri." I think I can hear him smiling. "It was prudent of you to confirm the Secondary's identity."
"Oh," I'm so relieved I didn't piss him off! "Okay, cool."
I hang up the phone and go join Henry.
He wasn't where he should've been. Instead of being inside the Tesla Building, I found him scaling it. Seriously, he was climbing the wall. Maybe he forgot he already did that today.
I follow him and reach the top of the building in seconds. We both enter a cool-looking office, and I realize it belongs (or used to belong) to that guy Dante.
Henry looks pretty sad. They must have been close. I lean against a far wall and watch as he puts his hand on the back of the red leather chair behind the desk.
"Whatever you found must've been worth killing for." Henry says. He must be thinking out loud. "How can a killer fake a heart attack?"
Then the sound of the lock opening on the office door makes him scramble under the desk. I watch nervously as a security guard enters and walks around the room. Getting caught would put an end to Henry's searching (temporarily), but I still don't want to see him get nabbed.
Henry, still under the desk, reaches for something at the edge of the area rug just a few inches way. It's a little bitty dart. He puts his fingertip to the point and then tastes it. I cross my fingers and hope he doesn't keel over.
"I knew it. He was murdered." Henry says to himself. He doesn't even whisper it. Stupid boy.
"Get up, punk!" the guard says.
Startled, Henry drops the dart and it falls into a crack in the wood flooring.
I follow Henry as he's led by museum security across the manicured lawn of the Bartlett house.
"All you had to do was not talk to yourself," I nag Henry, even though he can't hear me. "It's really not that hard to do. You just keep your cakehole shut so no words come out."
Uncle Bryan opens the door, looking disappointed but unsurprised. I gotta admit I don't find all of this very surprising, either.
"Once we confirmed his identity, he was a perfect gentleman." the security guy says. I smirk at Henry's annoyed expression. You shouldn't have gotten caught, dumb-ass.
"Thanks for your time and discretion, officers." says Uncle Bryan.
The museum rent-a-cops leave. Henry gives his uncle an innocent smile.
"Your mom warned me about your gift for hyperbole but I had no idea – "
"I said I have proof." Henry looks a little miffed and steps onto the porch.
"Where is this poison blow dart?"
"Well, I had proof."
"Well, now you're grounded." Henry frowns at him. "And if you don't shape up, Virginia Boy's Academy is only an hour away. Make that fifty-five minutes because when I'm agitated, that's how I roll."
It's a while after dark and I'm hanging out on the roof (invisible, like I am ninety-five percent of the time). The boys are in Jasper's room. Last I checked, Bambi-Boy was doing homework and Monkey Boy was doing a handstand. I guess he thinks letting all the blood rush to his head is a way to meditate.
"Now We Can See" by The Thermals blares from my headphones and drowns out their voices. I can just barely hear them: I'm really not trying to listen in, so all I pick up is that Julian Morneau was written out of his father's will, and something about Henry encountering a poisonous bird. I remember Ankur told me the New Guinea Watchers had to deal with that. The Secondary Watcher, a Shapeshifter named Otis, disguised himself as a witch-doctor or something and saved him with bug toxin.
A few minutes go by and I'm relaxing on my back, staring at the stars. I put my iPod away to conserve the battery, and I'm glad I did. If I hadn't, I may not have noticed Henry jumping out of the bedroom window and dashing across the lawn.
Please review!
I don't need a Beta, but I'd like to have one who knows the series well, if anyone's interested.