The Watcher III

The Watcher III

The Watcher by Ogala Osoka

“It is true!” Amazarak’s whisper penetrated through the thick blackness within the temple.

“She is truly gifted.” he continued.

The night sky glowed with silver that fell into the temple through the windows that were close to the roof. It was normal for distressed humans to be found in the temple after dark, but Azazel and Amazarak were not humans. Their eyes glowed within the darkness.

“Hmm! Does he know it yet?”

“He suspects.”

“Then we must move up plans.”                                                    

Ishtar had come to the fields again, basket in her hand. The sun was quiet above her. It was different today. Somebody else was there before her. She strained her neck until she was looking up, into his face. The intensity in his eyes told her a story that she knew she should not want to listen to; but she did want to. She remembered him, although he looked different, like a wounded lion. She could taste sympathy behind her tongue, she swallowed it. When he saw her, a cynic smile climbed up to his face. She wanted to climb up his face too and slap him until that smile turned into nothing.

“You?”

“You too,” she greeted as she walked past him. She had stopped looking at him.

“Mortal, you would not turn away from me while I am talking…”

“…or you would turn me into vapor?” she cut him. Her voice was still calm, a world of contrast from his. There was silence. He was terrible at keeping his emotions in check, she was clearly an expert. This infuriated him the more. He gulped down a large chunk of air and exhaled.

“Look, I am sorry for yelling at you” He paused to look down into her poker face. He could sense a wall around it.

“I am confused. I need answers. How did you do it?”

“Do what?”

He looked at her again. This time more intensely. He really could not tell what she was thinking about. He had never felt so helpless.

“Do you see me as a toy that you can have fun with?”

“I doubt that you are capable of giving me any type of fun.”

He was silent again. She turned and started to pick up grains and straws. He felt like a little child. Just be open he advised himself.

“You really don’t know who I am?” he asked again to be sure he was not her pawn. He was.

“Apart from the fact that you are a strayed angel, I don’t know anything else”. She turned to look at him. “Although I would like to.”

His heart turned to liquid.

“I am Samyaza, leader of the Grigori.” he looked at her. She was still opaque, looking at the ground that promised her supper, but she seemed to listen. They started walking until they stopped at a tree that homed birds. They sat down at its trunk.

“I am the angel of enchantment. In all the seven worlds, I have never met a soul that could resist my charms and refuse my desires,” he paused to look into her eyes. The energy sent the butterflies in her stomach on a wild rampage. “until now!” he continued.

“Really?” she seemed truly astonished. He looked away before she caught the water that was building his eyes. She held his chin; it felt like it was made of iron.  He moved his head swiftly until he held her in his eyes. He kissed her. The heat cooled down his nerve, he could feel her breath hitting his face, her hands on his face, and just when he was going to give in all, she stopped.

“I’m sorry, I…I can’t do this”

He tightened his jaw as a pink glow lightened his snowy face. He was obviously confused and embarrassed. His face followed her as she stood up to leave. It was his second chance at salvation, if he had just let her go.

“Why?” he ignored the warning.

“I hear things, Samyaza. I see things. I am not stupid.” she saw the confusion still plastered all over his face so she continued. “I know your reputation with women. Your Nephilim go about destroying everything my people have worked hard to build. Samyaza, you are the enemy and even though my heart feels otherwise, I cannot love you.” She turned to leave. He held her, his sturdy palm swallowing her wrist so that she was afraid that he would break it in a slight move. His eyes told a different story, she wanted to jerk her hand off and run away but her muscles seemed to be arrested by his sheer presence. May be she was not so immune to his charms.

“I don’t know how these things work, but I think I am in love with you.”

“You think?”

“I know… I know” he said, she could hear desperation under his voice.

“You apparently are not sure”, she pushed further. 

“I am. I swear by El, I am”

She looked at him. He still was not able to penetrate through and know what she was thinking about. It drove him crazy all the more.

“Well if you do, tell me the secret of the Universe.” she giggled.

“Sometimes knowledge is poisonous,” he laughed too.

“Won’t it be so much better if you killed me with yours, if I died in your arms.” she teased. They started to walk away from the tree, arm in arm. She left her basket in the field, half-filled with grains that she did not need.

“Okay, the secret of heaven I will tell you. Not today though, but I will tell you.” he was looking down at her. Something had either left him or entered him. He was not the same person he was yesterday.

“You give me your word?” She asked. He nodded.

“And also, you have to promise me that you will never ever leave me. You word would not be good enough. I would need your wings to keep in my chambers” there was a tint of grave seriousness behind her eyes. He would have noticed if he was not blinded by emotions he was not yet used to. 

“And also, you have to promise me that you will never ever leave me. Your word would not be good enough. I would need your wings to keep in my chambers.”

Ishta’s voice rang out from the steel bowl of raw liquid. Amazarak, the sorcerer stood there, behind the darkness of the temple, staring into the basin in cynic excitement. He muttered to himself,

“It has begun.”

By Ogala Osoka
Ogala Osoka

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