I’m at war again.
Only this time it’s a secret war.
Panat and me, against the Watchers. For him it’s us against his family, his clan. Against everything and everyone he’s held dear for his entire life. The nature of the Watchers has made them very family oriented and now he’s the outsider—the black sheep. The traitor.
The world is blissfully unaware. But then they have their own struggle.
Three years have passed since I killed Azazel, three long and eventful years. The first two were devoid of the bloodlust that haunted me before. It was such a relief that I dared to believe that it might be permanent. But of course, it wasn’t. Life has a habit of making you comfortable, and then crashing you back down to the ground. It’s called reality.
But they were great years as far as the unrest was concerned. It also made it easier to hide. Mangled bodies are a dead giveaway to anyone who’s really looking for me. And the Watchers were. They tried to hunt us down. Though what they planned to do if and when they found us, I have no idea.
They couldn’t kill me. That was certain. Not unless Joseph had recruited one of the remaining three forces to do his dirty work again. Mortals can’t kill me—only another force. We concluded that they would try to get at me through Panat. He, of course, is mortal. My close proximity—and that was very close—has a great effect on him. He has all but stopped ageing. His health has improved exponentially. If he gets sick, then it’s over very quickly—even wounds seem to heal better. I guess, I finally have a good effect on someone.