Watchers of the Fallen (Second Death Book 1) Read online

  Watchers of the Fallen

  Book One of the Second Death

  Brian Rella

  Illustrated by

  Jake Logsdon

  Elder and King

  Contents

  Free Starter Library

  PROLOGUE

  1. JESSIE

  2. FRANK

  3. JESSIE

  4. FRANK

  5. FRANK

  6. JESSIE

  7. FRANK

  8. FRANK

  9. JESSIE

  10. FRANK

  11. FRANK

  12. JESSIE

  13. FRANK

  14. FRANK

  15. FRANK

  16. FRANK

  17. JESSIE

  18. FRANK

  19. FRANK

  20. FRANK

  21. TAREK

  22. JESSIE

  23. TAREK

  24. FRANK

  25. JESSIE

  26. FRANK

  27. TAREK

  28. JESSIE

  29. TAREK

  30. JESSIE

  31. TAREK

  32. FRANK

  33. JESSIE

  34. FRANK

  35. FRANK

  36. JESSIE

  37. JESSIE

  38. TAREK

  39. FRANK

  40. FRANK

  41. TAREK

  42. JESSIE

  43. JESSIE

  44. FRANK

  45. JESSIE

  46. FRANK

  47. JESSIE

  48. FRANK

  49. JESSIE

  50. FRANK

  EPILOGUE

  Sneak Peak: Queen of the Fallen

  PROLOGUE

  JESSIE

  BOOK OF RAZMUS

  KURIEL

  TITUS

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  Free Starter Library

  Thank you for reading!

  About the Author

  Also by Brian Rella

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  PROLOGUE

  October 14, 1983

  Garrison, New York

  The Indian summer sun baked the front yard, leaving a sloping hill of powdery dirt at its edge. The mound was perfect for making an outdoor racetrack. Frank and his younger brother, David, had dug a track all morning from between the mailbox and the pine tree at the edge of their property. It was complete with hairpin turns and tunnels made from sticks and flat rocks from the garden.

  Frank’s white Mustang Mach 1 cruised around the track and David’s red Firebird followed close behind. The mimicked sounds of screeching tires, revving engines, and changing gears floated in the air. The young boys circled the track on all fours, pushing their Hot Wheels cars around and around in a never-ending race.

  Frank’s T-shirt was filthy from wiping his dirty hands on it, a corner of the yellow Atari logo hidden behind brown stains. David wore a mud mask below his nose and on his chin, his face caked with dirt and mucus from his endlessly running nose.

  The Mustang rounded a high turn and shifted into high gear, speeding up along the stretch of open road. Errrrrrrrrrrrr… Ahhherrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr… David trailed behind Frank by a few car lengths, his short, three-year-old legs scraping along behind him, trying to keep up with his five-year-old brother. He was fast as a crab on all fours, following Frank, imitating his every move.

  A flash from across the road, deep into the woods, caught Frank’s eye, pausing the race. It was the second time in the last few minutes he had seen something flickering beyond the tree line.

  “Come on, Fwanky. You blocking the twack,” David said as he tried to push past.

  Frank sat still. What was that? Was it fire? Fire has smoke. I don’t see smoke. He stared another moment while David protested. Shrugging, he bent down to his car, screeched the tires, and continued along the length of the track, downshifting into a turn.

  The big tunnel was up ahead, before the long bend of the track, down toward the street. “Don’t forget to turn your lights on, David!” he shouted back toward his brother.

  “Okay!” his brother yelled back.

  He pushed his car under the miniature tunnel of stick and rock. From behind him, David made a crashing noise and shouted, “Booooom!” throwing his car at the dirt. It bounced once, knocking down the tunnel and burying Frank’s car and driver alive.

  “Hey…David, you broke the tunnel!”

  “Cwash!” he shouted. “My cawr, cwashed,” he said, his voice rising into a whine, his hands turned palms up in front of him.

  “Ooooooh, now I have to build it again,” Frank said, whining too.

  “Sowwy, Fwanky.”

  David made a sad face, toddled over to Frank, and hugged his older brother. Frank hugged him back. “Come on, let’s build a bigger one. Go get a big rock from Mom’s garden, flat like this.”

  “Okay, Fwank,” he said and sped off.

  Frank gathered the twigs and rocks from the old tunnel and set them aside. He took his Mustang and ran it back and forth several times across the dirt to make the groove deeper and wider to accommodate a larger tunnel.

  Something flashed again across the street, grabbing his attention. It was brighter and closer this time, but he still couldn’t see it clearly through the trees.

  Frank shuddered as a shadow moved through the trees – something big, just out of his sight, and the hairs on the back of his neck prickled.

  “Mom?” he called, backing away to the house, glancing over his shoulder. She didn’t respond. “Maaaaa-ooooom!” Frank shouted louder.

  “In the back,” she yelled.

  Hot Wheels in hand, Frank ran to the back yard where his mom and dad were gardening. His dad was on a ladder pruning an apple tree. David was underneath the tree and had an apple in his hand. Tiny bites freckled the earthy, red skin, and apple juice ran down his cheeks and chin, leaving tracks in the mud mask he was wearing.

  “What is it, honey?” his mother said, leaning over a shovel at the other end of the garden.

  “I think something big is on fire in the woods,” Frank said. “I’m scared.”

  His parents looked at each other and then at Frank.

  “What’s that, kiddo?” his dad asked.

  “I think something’s on fire across the street. There’s a big shadow and something keeps flashing.”

  His dad stepped down from the ladder and flitted his eyes to his mom. She returned his glance, shrugging.

  “Come on, kiddo. Let’s check it out,” he said and took Frank’s hand. His mom picked up David and they all walked to the front of the house where David and Frank had been playing.

  Their house was in the middle of two others on the dead end road. The Hendersons were to the left. They were older, their children grown and moved away. Their house was all the way down the road and barely visible from Frank’s front yard. They usually weren’t home on the weekends. Mrs. Henderson liked to go into the city.

  All the way on the other side of Frank’s house, past a row of tall pine trees, were the Duffys. The Duffys’ house was hidden from Frank’s by the dense trees between the properties. It was the last house on the block at the end of the cul-de-sac.

  Across the street from Frank’s house was a large plot of undeveloped land. Ther
e were thick woods where the boys played sometimes. Beyond that were the Hudson Highlands, a big park along the Hudson River in New York. Frank’s dad said it went all the way from Peekskill to Beacon and down to the Hudson River. It was really big, and people from New York City hiked and picnicked through the park on the weekends a lot. The boys never played too far into the woods across the street. They had to stay close to hear mom or dad if they called.

  Frank’s father looked across the road, squinting into the woods. “I don’t see anything, kiddo. Where’d you see fire?”

  Frank pointed across the street from where the boys were playing. “Over there.”

  “Stay here,” his father said, letting go of Frank’s hand and shooting his mom a don’t worry face. He walked to the edge of the property and paused, looking both ways, and crossed the street. He stood at the edge of the road, one hand on his hip and the other above his brow, shielding his eyes from the sun’s glare. His head swiveled back and forth, and then stopped.

  He bent slightly at his knees and leaned forward. Frank saw the shadow again. It was closer now, nearly in front of his dad, maybe the length of two school buses away.

  “Dad,” he said. ‘There it is. Do you see it? It’s right there in front of you.”

  His dad looked back at him. “I see something, buddy, but…” he said with a confused expression on his face. His eyes moved to the boys’ mom and she shook her head.

  “Dad, watch out!” Frank shouted as light flashed closer to his father. It was so bright that Frank flinched.

  From the tree-line, long green sticks, taller and thicker than his father, pushed aside tree branches. Something bulbous and green, with two shiny black globes on top of it, and squirming parts under it appeared from between the trees. It glistened in the sunlight. The sticks were attached to the…head? Are those antennas?

  The green head rotated and fixed on his father. Beneath the giant head, two enormous, green, folded forelegs that looked like verdant, serrated swords appeared from the woods and onto the road.

  A praying mantis?

  It was the size of the small yellow bus Frank rode to kindergarten during the week. Frank saw the rest of the body behind the forelegs. The mid-section was long and thin, and supported by four larger, tree-like legs attached to the thicker hind section. As the giant bug emerged from the woods, Frank’s mother screamed, grabbed his arm, and yanked him toward her. The giant mantis took another step from woods and lurched for Frank’s father. His father fell and rolled before the sword-like arm came down on his torso.

  “Run!” Frank’s father yelled, scrambling along the ground toward his family, trying to get to his feet. His mother stood there, mouth open, unmoving, watching his father find his feet, and run away from the towering giant.

  Another mantis swooped over the trees, its flapping wings creating a gust of wind that blew Frank’s bangs away from his forehead. His mother shrieked and his father stumbled to his knees.

  “Mommy,” Frank moaned. “Mommy, come on, let’s go,” Frank said, pulling her away.

  His father tried to regain his footing, his face a mask of terror. He slipped on the dirt track the boys had built and fell to the ground. David started crying.

  “Jason!” his mother yelled.

  “Run! Robin, run!”

  Frank’s mother backed away with the children in tow, watching the first mantis stalk Jason.

  “Jason!” Robin cried.

  Jason turned in time to roll away again, before the mantis’ blade-like arm pierced his chest, but he was not fast enough. He howled as the giant’s arm sliced through his leg, almost severing it.

  A third mantis sprang from the woods and onto the front lawn. That made three of them. Robin’s eyes grew wide at the geyser of blood spurting from Jason’s leg. She frantically pulled the boys toward the house, David wailing in her arms. They ran up the front steps and she shoved them into the front entrance, slamming the door behind them.

  There was a monstrous crash into the heavy front door, then scratching and clawing as the boys and their mother backed away from the front of the house. Wood splintered and groaned as the mantis battered the house, trying to get at them inside.

  The onslaught stopped. Robin cowered with the children in the kitchen, holding them close, her chest rising and falling with shallow breaths.

  Suddenly a cacophony of shattering wood and tinkling glass came from the front of the house. Robin wrapped her arms around the boys and all three peered around the corner of the wall to get a glimpse of the ruckus.

  Green lances stabbed at them through the front entrance.

  The battering started again and with a huge crash, the bulbous head and antennas of a giant mantis broke through the front of the house. Robin screamed as the mantis pushed itself into the house and swiped at her and the children with its massive lance-like arms.

  Robin yanked the children across the kitchen and out of the back door. In the back yard, she spun around in circles, looking frantically for safety.

  She stopped, bent down and took Frank by the shoulders, placing David on the ground next to him. She pushed David toward Frank. David wept, clutching at her shirt, trying to get back into her arms.

  “Frank, take your brother’s hand and run. Run to the Duffy’s. Go now!” she yelled, pushing their hands together and shoving them toward the Duffy’s house.

  “No, Momma, no! You come with us!” Frank cried.

  From outside the house, they heard a loud crack, like a huge egg breaking, then an unearthly screeching sound, and a man shouting.

  That doesn’t sound like Daddy.

  The mantis inside the house was ramming its head through the black sliding glass door. It paused, seeming to notice the sounds from the front of the house. Its antennae twitched back toward the sound and then it retreated the way it had come.

  “Boys, now!” Robin exclaimed, pushing them toward the Duffy’s.

  They moved around the back of the house, glimpsed the scene in front yard, and stopped.

  Jason clawed along the ground away from the monsters. A man and a woman attacked one of the mantises in front of him. She raised a hammer over her head. It glowed with yellow light as she smashed it down on the mantis’ hind-section, punching a hole in its thick shell, and destroying its wing.

  A third person appeared, leaping across the road and into the fight. Both men and the woman, wearing all black, were attacking the giants ferociously with glowing weapons. Magic? Frank thought as he witnessed the battle while grasping his mother’s leg.

  With a roar, the blond man swung a vibrant red axe at a mantis’ hind-section, and hacked it off, causing black sludge to ooze from the wound.

  A bald man sailed through the air, landing on top of another mantis. Straddling the creature’s neck, he raised two glowing blue saitachi above his head. He sank the three bladed weapons so deep into the monster’s head, the short blades near his hands disappeared into creature. The mantis’ body shook, twitched, and fell to the ground. The man removed his blades from its shell with a grunt. Black fluid spurted from the wounds as he hopped off of it, and moved back to help his companion.

  The blond man fell to the ground, a mantis poised above him, about to split him in two. He raised his hand in defense and shouted something Frank couldn’t understand.

  Light flowed from the man’s palm and struck the creature in the face, forcing it back. From the far side of the yard came a cry. The warrior woman soared through the air, her hammer crashing down on the mantis’ neck, decapitating it with a snap.

  The woman reached down and pulled her companion to his feet. They touched palm to palm and murmured to each other glancing around at the battlefield. Nodding, the blond man fled into the woods at an impossible pace, bounding across the road, and disappearing into the trees.

  The bald man approached the family. Frank’s father shouted from the ground, “Please, don’t harm them!”

  The man turned to his father and cocked his head at him with a puzzled
face, and then turned his gaze to his mother. She pulled the boys close to her.

  “Are you okay?” he asked. He had an Asian accent.

  “Ye…yes,” she stuttered. The man glanced at Frank. He had no hair on his head or face, or even his arms. He looked Japanese or Chinese, his eyes narrow, his nose wide and short, his lips thin and tight. A membrane of blue light surrounded his entire body and seemed to pulse softly around him. He looked Frank in the eye, winked, and then turned back to Frank’s father.

  The bald man kneeled beside his father and the warrior woman joined him. They spoke to his father, but Frank could not hear what they said. His father shook his head and called to his mother. “Robin, call 911!” he shouted.

  Frank’s mother stood there, dumbfounded. Frank could not take his eyes off the man surrounded by the soft blue hue. The woman looked at Frank, and he saw she glowed with a similar shade of blue. She whispered into the ear of the bald man. The bald man nodded and looked down at Frank’s father.

  “No need for an ambulance,” he said. “We can help.”

  1

  JESSIE

  October 17, 2015

  Beauchamp, Louisiana

  “Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen, and welcome to Flight 216 to Chicago’s O’Hare International Airport. At this time, we’d like to ask our first-class ticket holders to begin boarding. Please have your boarding pass out with your identification before you board the plane.”

  First time on a plane. First class. Jessie grinned as she held her boarding pass out to the flight attendant. The woman wore a tight smile under a button-like nose.

  “Welcome aboard,” she said as she scanned Jessie’s pass under the red beam and waited for an affirmative beep. She ripped the long part off the ticket, handed the short part back to Jessie, and feigned a so happy to have you aboard today smile.

  Jessie walked down the ramp, excited and nervous. She had never flown before. In fact, the only time she’d been out of Louisiana was when her mom and dad had taken her to Mississippi to visit family, and that had been in the back of her dad’s old Ford F-150. Jessie had been young and remembered little of the trip. They went to a funeral for someone she had never met before. Her mom cried a lot, and her dad kept wrapping his arm around her, comforting her.