THE WATCHERS
1002 Words
(Sam’s POV)
He’d been watching over this sleeping beauty for over a week now, though beauty wasn’t the word he’d normally use for something that’d ripped two humans apart like damp parchment.
Still… she looked peaceful enough.
Sam perched on his little wooden stool, boots swinging, watching as the girl finally blinked awake. Angel. That was her name. Fitting, if angels came with claws and a taste for c*****e. Her eyes squinted at the sunlight streaming through the barred window. She reached for her head, wincing at the pain, then noticed the IV taped to her hand.
Poor lass looked around, confused, weak, thirsty enough to drink the lake dry. She grabbed the water beside her bed and downed it in one go before collapsing back into a dreamless sleep.
Sam waddled closer, beady blue eyes narrowing thoughtfully. Her fever had finally broken, thank the moon for that. A human would’ve burned alive under the heat she’d been running. But a lycanthrope? They ran hot when healing. Too hot sometimes.
Hmmm… he thought. Maybe this wolf child will make it after all.
He and his wife, Lillyanne, had been tending to her since Carlos dumped her in their dungeon like a stray pup. Special herbs to suppress the wolf. A careful drip to keep her hydrated. Little prayers to anyone who might be listening. At barely fifteen she’d shifted, no moon, no pack. Only fear and violence to guide her.
What bothered him most wasn’t the violence, it was the crescent-moon scar on her neck. Marked. Claimed. Or cursed. Even Sam wasn’t sure which.
He scratched his beard, glancing toward the stairs leading down to the dwarf tunnels. He and Lillyanne lived in harmony down there, dwarves loved the deep places of the earth, and vampires needed to sleep beneath it. Their friendship with Carlos had lasted through the Hundred-Year War until now. Odd friends, but loyal ones.
Sundown was close. He’d tell Carlos she’d woken… eventually.
For now, he shuffled off to fetch Lillyanne.
(Angel’s POV)
When Angel woke again, night had fallen. Silver moonlight seeped through the barred window, brushing her skin with a cold glow. She felt rested. Too rested. Wrongly rested.
She sat up slowly. Her limbs felt lighter, her stomach painfully empty. She tugged at the IV line, looking around.
Not a hospital.
A cell.
“Ahh, Sleeping Beauty’s awake at last. How do ye feel, my love?”
Angel flinched at the gravelly voice. She turned and found a small, wrinkled man standing behind the bars, half her height, beard braided, eyes bright and familiar in a way she couldn’t name.
“Who… who are you? Where am I?” Angel whispered.
“Don’t ye worry yourself, lass,” he said warmly. “Ye’re safe here. Which is more than I can say for the humans of yer last residence.”
Her brows knitted. “I was on the school bus… then… nothing. It’s like everything went dark.”
“Aye,” he said gently. “Ye had a shock. The body sometimes forgets to save the heart. Give it time, and ye might remember. How are ye feeling besides all that?”
“I feel… fine. Mostly. Why am I in a cage? Did I do something? Am I back at the orphanage?”
Sam snorted. “No, love. Ye didn’t do anything wrong. Those bars? They’re to keep everyone else safe. The next full moon’s in two nights. A young wolf normally only shifts then, with a pack nearby.”
Angel stared. “What wolf are you talking about?”
“Lycan. Shifter. Werewolf. That’s what ye are, Miss. But better let old Carlos explain. Ye hungry?”
Her stomach answered for her.
“Yes,” she breathed. “Please. And… I never got your name.”
“Sam. Just Sam. I’ll fetch my wife Lillyanne, we’ll get ye fed.”
He hurried off, beard bouncing.
Angel sank back on the thin mattress, mind racing.
Lycan?
Shifter?
A cage?
A dwarf?
Nothing made sense.
But strangely… she wasn’t afraid.
Half an hour later, Sam returned with a small woman with a soft smile and a giant tray of roasted chicken, bacon, potatoes, and vegetables. They pushed it under the bars.
“Eat up, dear,” Lillyanne said. “Can’t let ye out until Carlos returns.”
Angel froze. “Who is Carlos?”
Both dwarves looked at her like she’d asked who the sky belonged to.
“Why, he’s a vampire, lass,” Sam said cheerfully. “Ye’re in his house.”
Angel stared in horror.
Lillyanne beamed. “Eat your dinner now.”
And somehow… Angel did.
The dwarves stayed and talked, their voices warm and full of strange stories. Shadowlands, battles fought, taverns owned, nights filled with ale, rum, and mischief. For a while, Angel forgot the cell. Forgot the dread. She even laughed, startling herself.
But the bubble burst the moment Sam’s ears twitched.
“Ahh,” he muttered. “That’ll be the master now… and he has company.”
Angel went rigid as footsteps echoed down the hall.
The first figure to appear was a man carved from shadow and youth, lean, handsome. His dark eyes gleamed with hunger and intelligence. His presence sucked the air from the corridor.
Carlos.
Ageless skin, sharp jawline, dark eyes that glowed with a predator’s patience. Power clung to him like a second skin.
And then the second figure stepped in behind him.
Bigger. Broader. A man wearing the body of a god. A wall of muscle, rugged, towering, his long brown beard framing a face that could’ve been sculpted from the mountains themselves. Shoulders too wide for the corridor. Eyes like stormlight and old fury.
Angel’s heart shot into her throat.
Together, they filled the room with unspoken danger.
Both men stopped. And both stared directly at her.
Angel felt the fear climb her spine, cold and slow.
Whatever she had done, whatever she had become.
These two were here for her.
- Writer
