Watcher Divided: Dark Angels Paranormal Romance (Watchers of the Gray Book 4) Read online

  Copyright © 2018 by JL Madore

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, without prior written permission.

  JL Madore

  www.jlmadore.com

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  Watcher Divided/ JL Madore -- 1st ed.

  ISBN 978-1-7752332-4-4

  CHAPTER ONE

  Phoenix sat back on his heels, hands relaxed on his muscled thighs, his mind clear of all worry and guilt. Tonight was the night. It had to be. He hated lying to Seth. Helping Jules’s kid through his time of transition was important, no argument, but he and Seth didn’t keep secrets—ever—not even to spare the other pain. They’d vowed that to one another a long time ago, when secrets had nearly killed them both.

  At the thought of their past, his chest tightened. Damn. This assignment was dredging up shit he thought he’d dealt with centuries ago. So much for meditating himself to inner peace.

  At this rate, he’d never get upstairs.

  Taking another stab at it, Phoenix drew a cleansing breath and focused on the pentacle portal mosaic on the far wall of the chapel. The gateway to the Choir was a thing of beauty. Ringo, the teen artist and most recent addition to their dysfunctional Nephilim brotherhood, came through for Zander on all the artistic contributions to the new family home.

  Despite knowing Ringo possessed divine talents, they were no less awed by the kid’s mad skills. Danel’s pride burned even hotter because not only was the kid his Nephilim brother, they were both the cast-off begotten of the Archangel Gabriel.

  That made them blooded brothers. Like him and Seth.

  Well, not exactly like them. He and Seth were even more than blooded brothers. They were twins—two essential parts making up one solid unit.

  And he was lying to him. Yep. What an asshole he was.

  Shit, keeping things from his other half cleaved his heart in two. Phoenix’s chest tightened further still. Damn, he needed to quiet his mind, or he wasn’t going anywhere.

  Giving up on finding his Zen, he rose from the meditation circle in the center of the room and pulled out the big guns—

  Tai Chi.

  After focusing on his breathing, he stretched his hands out before him and swung his body in controlled movement. He let his mind go free, his body taking over in the repetitive stages of movement his muscles knew by rote.

  As he eased around the room, he took in the surroundings:

  Golden flames pulsed atop the wide pillar candles on the altar table. Ancient tomes of Enoch lined the hickory cabinets and lent him strength. The image of Lady Divinity filled him with love and devotion.

  Everything about the design of this chapel brought them to spiritual harmony. Far more than the chapel on the second floor of Zander’s club.

  Trying to connect with your core self and silence the beasts within was difficult with dark-electronica and cries of orgasms thrumming from the hedonist club below.

  This room emitted serenity. Grace.

  The soothing strength of their patron lady herself. He focused on the candles—the glow of the flames, the aura of heat they gave off.

  His beast grew still, the constant war within called to a temporary truce. He completed the circuit, padded barefoot past the altar, lit a hickory stick, and then made his way to the seven-foot closed pentacle on the far wall.

  With reverent precision, he touched the flame to each wick of each golden candle affixed to the five points of the pentacle.

  Turning to face the room, he stepped into the closed circle of the portal. The tiny colored tiles of the mosaic were cool and smooth on his bare back. He entered the sacred space as per tradition: left foot, fire; right-hand, air; left-hand, water; right foot, earth. When his head touched the wall behind him, in the position of spirit, he closed his eyes and recited the incantation.

  By the closed pentagram I bear

  By Water, Fire, Earth, and Air

  Ruled by Spirit as all should be

  I speak my vow, so mote it be

  Admit me Powers to your realm

  As trials on earth seek to whelm

  I pledge myself to Lady Devine

  And serve her will, till end of time.

  A recent frequent flyer in the realm of Powers, the portal guardians didn’t even blink at his arrival. When his footing solidified on the arrival podium, he stepped down, claimed one of the golden tunics from the wall, and slipped into the transition zone.

  He had the drill down pat. Get nakey, have all his parts and pieces tickled and blown under the ethereal air vents, and then don the sacred robe of ‘visitor’ to the realm of Powers.

  Once decontaminated enough to share the oxygen of the angels, of course.

  After tying the silk rope belt, folding his pants, and sliding his belongings into a cubby, he checked himself in the mirror. It was bizarre to see himself untouched by his warrior life.

  Here, he bore no scars, tattoos, or hints of his disability.

  Being amongst the heavens meant he was whole again. It gave him a glimpse of the man he could have been if life had been different.

  “You are late, warrior.”

  Phoenix turned at the sound of Thea’s voice and smiled at the female who’d grown to be not only his research assistant but a friend. Tall and curvy in all the right places, there was no question that she possessed the genetics of the Heavens. Mouthwateringly stunning, any male would give his left nut to claim her as his own.

  He included himself in that category, though he knew with the demons and violence within him, he’d never deserve her. “It’s getting harder for me to get away,” he said, thinking of how much Seth had protested hitting the bars without him tonight. “I’m here now. What have you found?”

  The brightness in Thea’s eyes dimmed, and he realized his mistake. “Forgive me, beautiful one, in my eagerness to fulfill my duty, I neglected to mention how lovely you look this night. You’ve cut and changed your hair. It suits you.”

  Thea’s smile shone as radiant as the morning sunrise as she touched the fine golden strands where they brushed the fabric gathered over her bare shoulders. “Thank you, and you are forgiven. How could any female hold a grudge after receiving such a lovely compliment?”

  Phoenix let Thea take his wrist and pull him to her research station. Her station partner, Arik, cast him a cool glance and, as he always did, stood to meet his
gaze eye-to-eye. “Back again, are you, Watcher?”

  Phoenix ignored the slight of speaking his moniker with harsh disdain. Half of the people in the realms felt the same. Nephilim were loathed as often as praised. “Yes, and I will continue to return until we find the answers we need.”

  Arik smiled. “Then tonight should be the end of it. I cannot say I mourn the news. Thea and I have other tasks piling up for attention. It will be good to have my partner back once again.”

  Thea patted the male’s arm. “Hush now, Arik. If you give us a few minutes, I promise Phoenix and I shall wrap things up. Then, you and I shall tackle our work together.”

  Arik shot him a look over Thea’s head and retreated.

  Powers regulated chaos amongst the human realm, but they also monitored anything other affecting humanity. Other meant all things Otherworld, magical, or defying human explanation.

  Needless to say, they were busy.

  “I’m sorry,” Phoenix said, gesturing to the steady stream of data creeping up the screen of her station. “It seems I’ve taken up far more time than I should have.”

  “Ignore Arik,” she said, her smile soft and sweet. “He acts the part of my protective older brother. He’s harmless enough.”

  Phoenix doubted that ‘older brother’ was the role Arik was vying for, but that was none of his business.

  Thea waved a hand through the air, and a list of names and geographic coordinates appeared before them. “I followed the names of the dark arts followers we came up with last time. A few of them form the foundation of the oldest and most established covens in North America. In three of your nights’ time, a blood moon lunar eclipse will occur in that part of the world. I have it on good authority that the Dark Priestesses of North America are scheduled to gather.”

  “Do you have any idea where?”

  Her smug smile answered his question. “Before I say, you must promise that this isn’t the last I see of you. Despite what you told Arik, you plan to visit from time to time, don’t you?”

  Phoenix couldn’t help but smile. Thea’s aura lit with the purest energy of any female he’d known. She was happiness and play. She was sweet and unsullied by any of the nasty truths of his world. He loved that he could talk to her. To open his mouth and speak his thoughts was a balm to his soul.

  He wouldn’t give that up. “I’ll bring you a human take-out dinner to celebrate when this is all over. You don’t know this about me yet, but I treasure my friends. You’re stuck with me until you tire of me and send me away.”

  “That will never happen,” she said, her voice soft as she bit her bottom lip.

  The palest pink flushed the iridescent ivory of her cheeks, and he brushed it with a gentle finger. “So, sweet one, where is this gathering of power going to be held?”

  Thea blinked up at him, as if she’d lost track of what she’d been about to say. “Lily Dale, New York. The High Priestess of the dark covens runs a chain of boutique hotels and will hold the gathering there.”

  Excitement bloomed warm beneath Phoenix’s skin, and it had nothing to do with the beautiful female standing directly in front of him. The gathering of that much dark magic would be a powerful draw to anyone who practiced the dark arts.

  There was a time, that would have even included him.

  “And does this Dark Priestess have a name?”

  Thea nodded. “Cleo Queen.”

  Something wicked this way comes. Storme stared into the dark surface of her scrying mirror and frowned. Future was a tricky companion but whether she read tarot cards, tea leaves, auras, or palms, the truth of what was to come reared its ugly head and expected to be heard—even if people didn’t want to listen.

  Everyone wanted the nicey-nice, cut-and-dried version of their future. Will I be rich? Famous? Will I marry a handsome stranger? Should I invest in this opportunity? Yadda-yadda.

  Future didn’t present like that, at least not for her.

  She saw signs of foreboding. Portents of warning. Symbols to heed. Paths to avoid. None of the warm and fuzzy came to her—she wished it did. The energy that sought her out left her feeling restless and wanting. Just once, she’d like to get a glimpse of the bright side of life. A tall, dark stranger. True love on the horizon. A birth. Success in business.

  She’d certainly have more fans in the psychic community if she weren’t such a harbinger of doom. Warnings made people wary of her. They avoided her. Excluded her.

  She didn’t mind being omitted from the push and pull of metaphysical politics. What she hated was feeling like a powerless observer. That sucked.

  She hated not knowing how or when things would unfold, simply that they would. And they did.

  Always.

  “Storme, what have you to say?”

  A room full of powerful Priestesses stared her down, and she fought not to squirm. Thirteen faces arched around the circular room gauged her worth with unveiled skepticism. Some of the women were strong in the arts. Some of them were fakes, riding the reputations of their family line, but the woman on the dais overseeing tonight’s proceedings, the High Priestess of Lily Dale—yeah, she was the real deal.

  Cleo Queen was an epicenter of power.

  Regal and lean, with the blue-black glossy hair of a raven, she drew everyone’s attention. And that was before they got sucked in by those deep, emerald eyes and old-world accent. Cleo was amazing, everything Storme hoped to be one day, yet doubted she’d ever become.

  A Dark Priestess had to be powerful.

  A High Priestess had to be exceptional.

  She wasn’t.

  Yet somehow, Storme found herself tucked under Cleo’s protective wing. Adopted as a toddler, she’d gained a life she couldn’t have imagined otherwise.

  “Storme?” Cleo repeated, stiffness tightening her smile. “Tell the Council what you told me earlier?”

  Storme hated to disappoint her mentor, but she also refused to break trust with Future. “I’m sorry, something has changed. The future is in flux. Malevolence shadows the path where it didn’t before.”

  “What kind of malevolence? A warlock? Betrayal? A drop in our business dealings?”

  Storme shuffled her cards and laid out a simple six card spread. One by one, she turned them up. Knowing a dark warrior was coming. Sensing his presence. She brushed a finger over the cloaked figure in the shadows, and her heart fluttered.

  Who are you, stranger?

  “What do you see?”

  Thankfully, the rich mocha color of her skin would hide her blush from the onlookers. “Nothing definite.”

  “Concentrate.”

  She did. Still, the source of the warning remained unclear. “A powerful force threatens that which is coveted. There is a dark awakening coming, danger and death, but the details remain shrouded.”

  Cleo’s expression remained blank, but anger flashed in those emerald eyes. She raised a long-nailed finger and flicked it toward the door. The energy in the air shifted and prickled Storme’s flesh. “That is all, child. You may go.”

  Storme gathered her cards and slid her mirror into its case. With her gaze down and her stomach in knots, she shuffled out.

  It wasn’t her fault. The cards held what the cards held.

  Kyrian’s world spun, adrenaline and heaven’s Grace burning like jet fuel ignited in his veins. He tucked his ebony wings tight to his back and dove headfirst toward the trees two hundred feet below. July heat lashed his face and tears burned in his eyes. It wasn’t the freefall toward the forested expanse of the Don Valley that had his blood pumping; it was the nine-foot dragon singing his ass and snapping at the rubber of his soles.

  “Bank right on one, Greek,” Zander shouted, coming in fast from his flank. “Three . . . Two . . . One.”

  Kyrian twisted in his descent at the same moment Zander crossed his path like a badass 308 bullet from a sniper rifle. The sudden diversion confused the beast and Andrew hesitated long enough for his father to tackle him mid-air and give them a breather.


  Rayvn, a shit-ton bigger and scarier in his dragon form than his son, grappled his boy and pumped his wings. The powerful whoosh-whoosh of his leathery appendages lifted the two of them back above the density of cloud cover.

  Kyrian soared in a double back and caught up with Z. “Am I imagining it, or is that kid getting faster every night?”

  Zander watched the two dragons struggling in the darkness above. “You aren’t imagining it. At this rate, we’ve got maybe a week before we lose a limb or find ourselves charbroiled.”

  True dat. Kyrian forced his wings to lift him higher. “I’m beat, and I have a wife who needs me. I never thought I’d say this, but I’m too tired for sex.”

  Zander frowned. “I fell asleep on Austin last night.”

  “When you say on her, you mean—”

  “On her. Yep. I woke up when she shoved me off, and my ass hit the mattress. I was fucking crushing her and the baby.”

  Kyrian snorted, unwilling to add any commentary to that one. “Phoenix is headed upstairs again tonight. Fingers crossed he gets us one step closer to a solution. He said he’s close.”

  “Let’s hope—”

  A fifty-foot plume of fire crackled over their heads, and the two of them cursed.

  “That’s new. Shit, forget a week, Z. This will fuck us up the ass waaaay sooner than that.”

  Andrew broke free of the cloud cover, with Rayvn hard on his spiked tail. In another ten seconds, the kid would break cover and be visible from the ground.

  “Game on.” Zander shot off to intercept and entice Andrew out of human sightlines. “Time to play flaming dragon kabob.”

  “Fan-fucking-tastic.” Kyrian pumped his wings to follow, sending a prayer up to his brother in the Choir. Phoenix needed to pick up the pace of his search.

  They were seriously running out of time.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Phoenix returned to the chapel in the underground tunnels beneath the racetrack and grabbed his shirt, socks, and boots. Lily Dale, New York—upstate, and only hours from them. Finally, they’d caught a break. He’d finished with the crisscross of laces and tying things up when he heard the steady rhythm of rubber treads beating out the descent of one of his brothers.