London 1880
February
7 months previous…
It was late afternoon and William was locked in his study, working on yet another of his poems to express his adoration for the beautiful Cecily. It was terribly trying to find a rhyme for the exact shade of her eyes when he was unsure if they were green or blue or, perhaps hazel. When he was interrupted by a knock on his door, he jumped up with a start, splattering drops of ink upon the unfinished poem.
The footman walked in with a silver tray, upon which sat the card of a Mr. Benjamin Adams. William couldn’t for the life of him imagine who this visitor was or what possible purpose he could have for a visit. His curiosity getting the better of him, he decided to greet this mysterious visitor. William followed the footman downstairs to the library, where he found the stranger glancing at the paintings on the wall.
“Good day, sir. You asked to see me?” William’s voice made the stranger turn around.
He was tall, of slim build, dressed smartly in a fine suit. He had slightly graying black hair and rather harsh brown eyes, which seemed to be analyzing William.
“Mr. Pratt. Pleased to meet you. I am Benjamin Adams and I’m here on behalf of an organization known as the Council of Watchers.”
“I’m sorry. I’ve never—” William began.
“No, no, don’t apologize. I know you’ve never heard of it. We’re quite secret you see. The fact of the matter is you had an uncle who used to work for us. One you’ve probably never met, a Mr. Robert James. He was a Watcher, who produced excellent research work for us, until he died three months ago. Don’t be surprised. He was overseas at the time, and as I said, not in touch with the family, which is why you didn’t know.”
“An uncle?” William asked in surprise then caught the rest of what Mr. Adams had said. “A dead uncle,” he repeated thoughtfully.
“I’m here because your uncle’s death creates a vacancy within the Council. You see, the Council is composed of members from specific families. Normally, Watchers raise their children to follow in their footsteps much like any other profession, but it’s not unusual for them to take on people from the outside.” Adams wandered around the room as he spoke, making it difficult for William to get a word in edgewise.
When Adams stopped directly in front of William and cast an expectant glance at him, the young poet paused to let his mind catch up to the conversation. Why was the gentleman here, informing him of the death of an estranged uncle who apparently worked for a secret organization? He was beginning to suspect he was the butt of some sort of joke, but couldn’t imagine anyone going to the effort of setting up such an elaborate farce.
“I’m not entirely sure I understand, Mr. Adams.” William frowned at the man in front of him. Having regained the ability to speak, he was now waiting for Mr. Adams to explain himself.
“Mr. Pratt, I’m offering you a job. Well, the Council is offering you a job, a chance to be a Watcher, as was your uncle.”
“I beg your pardon?” William was completely lost.
“A Watcher, Mr. Pratt, a valued member of society. The pay is respectable, and it will benefit your social standing and allow you and your family to live quite comfortably for the foreseeable future.”
William couldn’t restrain the chuckle that welled up in him. This was all so preposterous. He really must be the target of some joke. There was no other explanation. He shook his head, laughing, but when he looked back at Adams, the man was perfectly serious and wearing a rather curious expression. William struggled to regain his composure, moved his sandy brown curls out of his eyes, and placed his hands on his hips.
“I’m sorry, it’s just—this is all so ridiculous. You’re here to offer me a job, one that will keep me and mine comfortable for the foreseeable future, and increase my social standing, because of a long lost, recently deceased uncle? Did I misunderstand the secrecy of the organization? How could that give me a respectable position in society, and where could an organization no one’s heard of receive the funding required to keep its employees satisfied? Oh and not to forget my Uncle, I mean he died abroad didn’t he? So I’m to understand that this is a dangerous career? One that requires me to travel to foreign lands?”
“Mr. Pratt, I assure you that as secret as we are, the Council is well respected by those in positions of power. The people who matter know of our existence and have no problem giving us adequate funding. Your uncle died from illness, nothing untoward, and while it can be risky in the field for Watchers, those who work at headquarters are there for cataloguing and researching and are perfectly safe. Only those who are deemed capable are given the serious task of training potentials.”
“Potentials?” William asked.
Adams smiled and took a couple of steps closer to William. He patted him on the arm and gave him an encouraging look.
“Tell you what. You come to headquarters for a visit tomorrow, and see for yourself what we do. If you’re interested, we can start your training program immediately. What do you say?”
William considered it. He wanted to say no, he really did, but he was intrigued, and he saw no harm in taking a quick look to see if this man was genuine. He could be the judge as to whether it was worth his time, and maybe it would be beneficial.
“Very well, a visit, just to make up my mind and see the truth of your claims.” William said, adjusting his glasses, trying to look business-like and assured.
“Wonderful. I’ll send a coach around tomorrow afternoon to collect you. You would make a fine Watcher, Mr. Pratt. Sometimes you can just tell, and I’ve been in this business long enough to spot the good ones.” Adams gave him a parting smile and stepped out into the entrance hall where the footman fetched his hat and coat.
William watched as the man left, a bit bewildered, his mind racing. His poetry forgotten, he returned to his study and sat by the window, staring outside. He couldn’t shake the feeling that something momentous had just occurred. He hadn’t agreed yet, he tried to remind himself, but somehow, he knew things would never be the same for him again. William didn’t quite know what to make at the rush of excitement bubbling up within him, mingled with more than a little fear.
***
The coach arrived at noon on the dot. William was still trying to reason with himself as he climbed in, and it set off. He assured himself that it was mild curiosity, nothing more and perfectly reasonable, while another part of him was telling him this was a bad idea, that this whole situation was suspicious, and he knew nothing about this strange man, making him an equally strange offer.
After a thankfully brief and rather bumpy journey, he realized they were just approaching the central business district when the coach came to a halt. Adjusting his spectacles and rubbing a sore spot on the back of his head from one particularly unpleasant bump in the road, he got out, still arguing with himself as Adams greeted him and led him up the steps of a towering building. William followed him inside through a large, elegant reception area, then on through several long corridors. They passed rooms where men in suits, both young and old, were studying texts and writing in journals. Adams eventually led them into a wood-paneled room that was filled, floor to ceiling with shelving that contained a dazzling array of crystals, powders, various artifacts, and jars, the contents of which were questionable.
“This looks like—alchemy,” William commented nervously.
“In a way, I suppose. This is our magical stock. Something we usually leave to the coven, but it helps to be prepared, and every good Watcher should have hands on experience to understand what it is they’re dealing with,” Adams replied off-handedly.
William froze in place, staring at his guide with just a hint of fear in his eyes. Adams glanced at him with a questioning frown.
“Something wrong, Mr. Pratt?”
“Magic? Coven? As in witches? You believe in magic and witches? Your Watchers need to have experience with,” he cast another timid glance around the room, “this.”
“All part of the territory, Mr. Pratt. Come along, I want to show you the training room.” Adams carried on down the hall.
William wanted to argue that these ideas amounted to insanity; magic didn’t exist. He wanted to run out of the building and away from this madhouse as quickly as possible and forget he’d ever come here. Yet, while he was imagining doing either or both of those things, he instead found himself hurrying after the other man. Shaking his head to clear it of whatever crazy impulses he was suffering to continue this tour, he very nearly bumped into Adams, who had come to a halt in front of a large open balcony, which looked down over a training ground where wooden dummies and various other pieces of equipment were positioned. William’s attention soon turned to the rows of weapons lining the walls, and the men engaged in swordplay beneath him.
“A Watcher will rarely be engaged in battle himself, as that is the duty of the Slayer, however sometimes it is necessary to be prepared for a surprise attack, and of course a Watcher needs to be capable of training his Slayer.”
“Slayer?” It was the only word William could manage at that moment.
Adams gave him a pat on the back and proceeded to march onwards. William looked back at the men dueling below before following reluctantly, worrying about the next thing this man was going to show him. William wasn’t certain he liked the words he was hearing. Actually, he was positive he didn’t like them. “Slayer” for instance. What was a Slayer?
“Here we are,” Adams said, walking through two massive doors.
William followed cautiously and his mouth dropped open. They were standing in the most enormous private library William had ever seen. It stretched above them at least four floors. There were various tables and desks at which sat more men in suits, stacks of books piled in front of them.
“This is our collection, well most of it at any rate. We have some books that are off limits, only accessible to certain members of staff.”
“There’s more?” William couldn’t help asking, astonished.
Adams grinned and nodded. William blinked. This was a scholars’ dream come true.
“If you don’t mind my asking, erm, in what type of research do you engage that requires a Watcher to learn to fight and use,” he blanched a little at the word, “magic? Additionally, what exactly is a Slayer?”
“Now that’s the big mystery, Mr. Pratt, isn’t it? Have a look at this.” Adams picked up a worn, black, leather-bound book from a table nearby after glancing at the title, something William thought looked unpronounceable.
William took the book and flipped it open. He nearly dropped it when he was met with a rather graphic illustration of what he could only describe as a hideous demon.
“Wh—what….?”
“That would be a Heitoch demon, native to Germany. It feeds on about three to four people a month. Usually it’s more dangerous in the summer, the Heitoch mating season. One of the thousands, the hundreds of thousands of demons in existence.”
William stared at him. This was even more incredible, more insane, than he had suspected. Not only was this man telling him that this organization believed in magic, but he was telling him that demons existed. Adams took the book and flipped through the pages. William was beginning to feel a bit sick and more than a little worried for his safety when he saw the pages were filled with strange occult symbols and more images of demons and monsters. Adams closed the book and placed it back on the table, turning towards William, the humor gone from his expression.
“I know what’s going through your head now, Mr. Pratt, but a direct approach will save us both time. Yes, demons exist, magic exists. The supernatural is not something made up by authors and storytellers. Everything originates from truth. The world is a dangerous place. The fight between good and evil is very real, and it’s happening right under our noses. There is a delicate balance to the world, a certain order if you will, and the Council does its best to maintain that order, or to at least try to tilt the scales in favor of good.”
William began backing away shaking his head. Adams followed him out into the hall where William backed into the wall and stopped, staring back at the man. He couldn’t believe what he was being told. However, there was a part of William, some place deep inside, that did believe it. Adams himself believed it. Clearly the hundreds of people working here believed it. The people who wrote all those books also believed it. But it’s not rational!
“This is—this is outrageous,” William stammered. “Why, to suggest such things, monsters, exist—it’s nothing more than a fairytale. Watchers and—and Slayers—”
“The Slayer is a chosen champion of the powers, who fights against the forces of darkness. She alone faces the vampires, demons and monsters to protect the innocent. There is one born to every generation. We Watchers have a duty, age-old, to guide these Slayers, train them and show them how to carry out their duty. Our best train the potentials, and if that Watcher’s potential is called, will maintain a journal that documents that Slayer’s activities until the day she dies and the next Slayer is called. It is a cycle that has gone on for centuries. What we do here is serious business Mr. Pratt, and it’s very real. Look around you. Do you really think all this would exist if it were merely the fantasy of a Bedlamite?” Adams gestured to the building they were standing in.
William’s mind raced, trying desperately to process all of this information. It was so preposterous, and yet surely a place so well funded couldn’t be based upon insanity. Was everything he’d ever known about the world truly a lie? Were there real monsters lurking under beds? Were those fairytales and horror stories really grounded in fact? A warning to those who would venture out at night to be wary of what they might encounter?
Adams watched as William thought about everything he’d seen. He’d recruited many Watchers over the years, and the ones who hadn’t grown up with the knowledge of what they dealt with every day were always difficult to convince, and he’d long ago stopped caring if he seemed insane. If the men who turned down the offer had told anyone, they’d never be believed and most that refused preferred to forget the entire thing had occurred at all. He found the best method was to just come straight out with it, allow them a few moments to digest the information and decide if curiosity outweighed what they were hearing as irrational and untrue. As Adams watched the wheels turning in William’s brain, he recognized all the internal arguments as they played out, and knew the instant William came to a decision, even before the he did.
“Take your time about it. Go home and consider the offer. If you think it’s worth your time, and you want to learn more, come back tomorrow. It will be entirely up to you whether you decide to accept the position. I’ll send a coach for you at the same time as today. If you decide it’s not what you want, you can just send it away and never worry about it again. If, on the other hand, you are interested, come back here, and I’ll show you a bit more of what we do, explain what your role would be, what training you would undergo, that sort of thing. The ball is entirely in your court, Mr. Pratt.”
After a few seconds of silence, William nodded. He adjusted his suit and adopted a more dignified posture.
“Yes, well, I believe I would appreciate some time to—think things through. Thank you.”
“No problem Mr. Pratt. It isn’t something a man should rush into after all. Would you like something to eat or drink before you leave? We have refreshments available—” Adams said, pleasantly.
“Er, no, no thank you. I must be getting back. I should really tend to Mother. She’s been under the weather as of late. Again, I appreciate your offer. I’ll…I’ll make my decision tomorrow.” William gathered himself together and began to walk back the way they’d come, Adams following closely behind.
When they reached the main doors, Adams shook William’s hand firmly. He gave him an intense stare and William shifted uncomfortably under the other man’s scrutiny. He seemed to be searching for something, trying to make up his mind about William. He eased back after a few seconds pause, relaxing his grip, apparently happy with what he’d found in the young poet’s eyes.
“Well then, I hope to see you tomorrow my good man. Something tells me you’d fit in quite well here.”
“Er, yes. Good day Mr. Adams.” William hurried out of the door, down the steps and into the waiting coach, eager to get away from the strange building and its occupants and back to the safety of the familiar.
Time to think outside those walls would be a relief. He was finding it difficult to convince himself to forget the notion that he could become a Watcher. That he would even consider the offer surprised him. When it came to horror stories and myth, William was somewhat of a skeptic, though no more than most. He believed in creativity and the imagination which created these other worldly creatures, not the creatures themselves. The more he pondered Adams’ offer, the more it baffled him why he hadn’t just turned it down flat.
***
Arriving home, William found himself distracted for the rest of the day. He kept replaying the afternoon’s events, tumbling the idea around in his head. What startled him was that a part of him could see it, could see him walking through those Council corridors, researching in the vast library. He was having a little more difficulty picturing himself performing spells or fooling around with strange mystical artifacts, yet for some reason the thought of learning to use weapons appealed to him. William was by no means a violent man. He avoided conflict at all costs and spent most of his time in the shadows, someone who faded into the background and was rarely seen, which was how he preferred it. Isolation suited him. It gave him the opportunity to work on his poetry, allowed him to search for the words that could express his true emotions and lately to watch the woman of his dreams, his muse and find suitable words to woo her, which was his heart’s greatest desire. Yet despite this, William couldn’t suppress that niggling part of him that insisted that learning how to use weapons would be beneficial and interesting.
At dinner he’d had to ask his mother to repeat what she’d said several times as his mind wandered away, and he would only realize she’d asked him something when she stared at him, a curious look on her face. After the fourth time, she asked him what was wrong.
“William, dear, you seem—out of sorts. Is something the matter?” Anne asked, worriedly.
“Oh. No, I’m fine, really. I just…you remember I told you I was meeting with that Adams fellow?” William answered.
Anne thought for a moment and nodded.
“Yes. That was quite a mysterious visit, I remember. What was it you had to see him about?”
“He offered me a job. A research position. Nothing much, just cataloguing and such for a rather large company. I’ve been considering it, that’s all. If I’m interested, I’m supposed to pay them another visit tomorrow at the same time,” William answered.
He didn’t want to go into too much detail about his “job offer,” but he had to tell her something. He wondered how she’d feel about it. Now, she was so ill, she couldn’t really venture outside the house, and William had made it his duty to spend as much time as possible with her, even though she’d never asked. If he took Adams up on this Watcher business, it would mean he would be away quite often. He didn’t want her health deteriorating because she began to feel lonely.
“Oh. Well, that’s good I suppose. A research position, William? Are you going to take it?”
She didn’t seem too put out, but his mother was always doing things for his benefit, despite her own needs. She probably wanted to see him out of the house for a while. Enjoying himself, as it were. Although, how enjoyable his new job would be, was questionable in itself.
“I seem to be, however I’m not entirely certain that it would be a good idea. He said it pays comfortably. It would be a new experience working for them, but I don’t know very much about them, and I’d be away from you quite often. I wouldn’t want you to go without company, Mother.”
“Oh, William, nonsense, I’ll be perfectly all right. We do get the occasional visitor, and I have plenty to keep me amused. I also spend a lot of time napping in the afternoon now anyway. You should visit again, and see what you think. You might surprise yourself and discover a new interest, and I know you would be a dedicated worker. You won’t know unless you try William. Certain opportunities are worth exploring.”
William pondered that. It was worth exploring, if only, because it seemed so outrageous. Did he really want to discover that demons were real though? He nodded, and they continued with their dinner, William trying to focus his attention on the meal with difficulty.
Shutting himself up in his study that evening, as he often did, William found himself pacing the floor, desperate to make sense of what it was he was doing, what he was going to do. Because just as he could see himself working for the Council, he could see himself getting into the coach tomorrow, and that, was a much more frightening prospect.
Where had this impulse come from? He’d never felt an urge to find employment when there was no need before, and he had responsibilities at home, looking after his mother. He shook his head as he contemplated this sudden desire for adventure, which he was certain working for the Council would be. He’d only visited the premises once and already his mind was spinning, the world seeming to tilt and shift underneath his very feet at the allegations Adams had made.
And that’s all they are. Allegations. There’s no proof. God don’t let there be proof. William reached one end of the room and whirled around, pacing even faster. What am I thinking? Of course there’s no proof! He chuckled to himself helplessly.
Perhaps, it’s because of what he showed me in those books. Demons. To suggest that they are real, that they exist. Well, that would make anyone want to defend themselves, wouldn’t it? Look at me, I’m actually behaving as if this is real. If monsters exist I’ve certainly never seen one.
Maybe that’s because you’ve been lucky so far, a voice in his head argued.
It made William pause. He shook his head to clear it.
No, someone would have said something, alerted the authorities. If they existed in today’s world they wouldn’t go unseen. And sightings wouldn’t just amount to myths and legends either. There would be more—proof.
But what if the people who do see them don’t survive to tell anyone? Or perhaps that’s the significance of the Council? They are secret after all. Is that because people have seen these creatures and they are the ones protecting us mere mortals from them? Them and the Slayer. The one girl in all the world…
William came to a halt again. It hadn’t sunk in the first time he’d heard it, he’d been too busy trying to process everything else. The Slayer was a girl, a girl who fought demons. It was a bit too much for his Victorian mind to comprehend. Unlike many gentlemen, he was all for the advancement of women, but the thought that a woman would fight those—creatures, was a little much. How could a girl fight—those? And “she alone?” She was the only one? Against (if he was to believe Adams and those books) hundreds of thousands of those things?
Doesn’t seem like much of a balance to me. Seems more like we should all be dead by now, the world a hellish place where humans are extinct instead of thriving.
He started pacing again, occasionally running a hand through his hair, sweeping the curls out of his eyes. He was never going to sleep tonight if he continued to think about this, but he couldn’t stop thinking about it, or the coach that would arrive tomorrow to carry him away from these safe walls and into a brand new world, one he had no way to prepare for.
Finally giving up on his pacing, William removed his spectacles and rubbed his tired eyes. He eyed the drinks cabinet to his left…his rarely used drinks cabinet. William mostly kept it there on the rare occasion he had a visitor, typically over some business that needed to be taken care of. He poured Scotch into a glass and settled into his chair. After taking a sip, he stifled a cough, as he grew accustomed to the taste. He usually didn’t have anything stronger than wine, but he felt the current situation warranted something with a little more kick to it. He could already feel himself beginning to relax as the drink settled into his system. Maybe this way he could at least get some rest tonight. He knew he was going to need it.
***
The next afternoon, William stood in his study looking out of the window at the coach waiting below. He had woken up that morning with a dull headache from the Scotch last night. One glass had led to two, then three, and all he knew was that over half the bottle was gone when he found it sitting on his desk that morning. The pain had luckily receded to a mild throbbing by this time so he was feeling slightly better. He stared at the coach with a mixture of excitement and trepidation. The clock behind him seemed to grow increasingly loud as the seconds ticked by. With a sigh, he let the curtain slip back into place and stepped away from the window.
***
The building was just as large and imposing as he remembered. He made his way up the steps, fidgeting at his waistcoat the entire way up. As he entered the building he began to take in the familiar exquisite décor for only a few moments before Adams arrived, a knowing smile on his face. Adams held out a hand that William accepted, shaking it firmly, trying to push his uneasiness away.
“Well Mr. Pratt, I’m pleased to see you decided to give it a try.” Adams said.
“I’m here to learn more. I haven’t accepted yet, but—I would like to know more specifics about the position. I know enough to know that what I learn here will forever change my understanding of the world, as it has already. If I find out that what you do here is as beneficial as it appears to be, given what you’ve told me—then I want to help.”
“A wise and well thought out decision, Mr. Pratt. Come, I’ll show you a bit more of this place, introduce you to some Watchers, let you read a few more texts and explain the training program. You have a lot to catch up on.”
Adams turned and led William through the maze of corridors again. William followed, but he had a question he wanted to ask first.
“The other day, you mentioned the Slayer. You said ‘she alone must face the darkness.’ Am I to understand that the Slayer is a woman, and she must be alone when she faces the creatures you showed me? Isn’t that a little much? Moreover, how could one girl be everywhere at once? Forgive me, but it seems a little difficult to imagine that people wouldn’t be more aware of the thousands of demons in the world if there’s just one girl fighting them.”
“Ah yes. The Slayer is always female, it’s been that way since a Slayer existed. Not much is known regarding the reason. Texts don’t go back that far, and any that hint at the Slayer’s origins are either in a language too old to fully translate, or have been lost or partially destroyed. The Watchers Council is a global organization that does its best to protect the innocent worldwide and keep the knowledge of the evil present in the world contained. I think you’ll agree that the last thing we need is a global panic, which is what would occur were people to find out. It is the Slayer’s duty to prevent the worst apocalyptic disasters, but she cannot handle everything alone, you are right about that.”
“So then, you Watchers fight these beasts as well?” William asked seriously.
Adams paused, seemingly to consider his answer.
“No, not as such. The Council hires people to patrol the streets and keep the public safe. There are groups of people worldwide who are aware of the unusual, deadly nightlife, and they have made it their goal to eliminate these creatures. A few years ago the Council became aware of these freelance demon fighters and offered to fund their organization if they worked for us. They accepted. I dare say you’ll meet them for yourself if you agree to work here. Part of every Watcher’s training is to venture out into the battlefield with the Hunters. It gives them a taste of what the Slayer faces, and if they decide they are better suited to the job of hunting then they can choose to become a Hunter. Not everyone is cut out to be a Watcher after all.” Adams said, with a wink.
“Go out and…hunt,” William asked, a little nervously.
Adams gave him a pat on the back and a cheerful grin.
“Don’t worry, Mr. Pratt, almost all of them come back alive, and besides, you haven’t said yes yet, have you?”
Adams walked on down the corridor and William followed behind slowly.
“No, I haven’t,” he muttered to himself, though inwardly he knew that he was already a lost cause.
[Reviews - 14]
-
Table of Contents [Report This]
Chapter or Story |
Chapter or Story | 
Chapter or Story
Has been viewed 1762 times
- Text Size +
-
Table of Contents [Report This]
Chapter or Story |
Chapter or Story | Chapter or Story - Text Size +
Author's Chapter Notes:
I will be updating this once a week, probably on Tuesday . However, I have this week free which is why you're getting this update. :-)
Picking up from last chapter we take a trip into Will's memories to see how he changed from a poet to a Demon Hunter.
Thanks to Sanityfair, Puddinhead and All4Spike for beta reading. Any mistakes left are mine.
Picking up from last chapter we take a trip into Will's memories to see how he changed from a poet to a Demon Hunter.
Thanks to Sanityfair, Puddinhead and All4Spike for beta reading. Any mistakes left are mine.
Chapter End Notes:
So, did you enjoy that? Are you curious about what happened next? Doesn't quite explain how our shy poet became a Hunter does it? Fear not, you'll find out soon.