Chapter 1

Mist gently swirled around the bases of trees and shrubs. Breath barely visible in the cool morning air. Dew clung to spider webs on the branches of Rhododendrons. In the distance, muffled voices echoed in queer ways between ivy clad walls. In short, it was a typical Spring morning in Seattle.

A gentle rain started to fall on two shadows on the edge of the Quad, all but invisible against the faintly gray fog that hugged the landscaped corners of their lair. It had been pissing rain for days now, and the two watchers were well past cold and wet. Still, one of them kept a careful watch on the entrance to Savery Hall, while the other kept an eye out for other watchers. College students came and went without so much as a passing glance at the two silent, slightly darker shadows that stalked the campus. Their bolthole carefully chosen so as to not attract attention, the result of years of experience gained in this very kind of watching. Trained in the arts of hunting, the pair awaited their prey.

“Are you sure this is the one?” Gareth anxiously asked for the thousandth time.

Wearily, Morgan nodded, without a sound, without taking his eyes from the door. “My Laird, I’m as sure as anyone can be about these things...” he answered in a bare whisper that carried little further than the edge of his lips. “His Grace said I was to wait and watch, so I wait and watch.” With a slight shrug, he returned to watching.

Morgan was a Watcher by training and inclination. Since Watchers had to pass in the mortal world a good deal, they tended to blend in to the point of non-existence in the thoughts and minds of the mortals they watched. Morgan’s clothing would have attracted little if any attention in the urban centers that the mortal world had become. His dark overcoat, fatigue pants and boots marked him as just another homeless ‘vet’. He even had a story of a far off land called ‘Nam that he had honed over years of sitting with other vets. If one wanted to be a Watcher in the mortal world, what better way to do it than sitting in a darkened entryway, holding a paper cup and muttering quietly to yourself every now and then. It didn’t matter to mortals that the mutterings were just to maintain Morgan’s “glamour”. A well-crafted glamour faded into the background noise of the mortal world.

As the rain once again petered out, Gareth said, “But, will you at least point her out to me, I mean, how am I to know she is the one?”

“Trust me, lad, you’ll have no doubt once she comes out of yon building”.

Young Gareth was another matter entirely. He was dressed head-to-toe in fine, green leathers of a distinctly Medieval cast, The kind still favored at Court. As a newly appointed Squire to Duke Emory, Gareth felt it important to maintain appearances. The Duke himself placed heavy emphasis on the importance of appearances, or at least making sure people saw what they expected. Gareth would have looked out of place to the seeing eye. With his glamour firmly in place, he looked like any other college student on an early Spring day, including the ubiquitous backpack and ball cap worn backward on his head helped to maintain the ruse.