The Horsemen (The Watchers Book 2) - Carl Novakovich

The Horsemen (The Watchers Book 2) by Carl Novakovich

Book excerpt

My friends, here we are again. You have come this far, which means you have seen the truth. I understand at times it may be frightening. However, life is a frightening thing. With that in mind, I need to assure you that our team is doing all they can to protect you.

I will keep this brief as there is not a moment to spare. Just like before, this is not a story, this is the world around you. So, please, read carefully, pay close attention - but above all else, stay safe.

OCTOBER 8th, 1871

Chicago

As the flames rise up, I feel the fear build within me. I am usually well composed; however, I can't help but quiver at this moment. This was not the plan.

People are panicking; sprinting to any safe place they can find. Do they even see what we see? We… Jonathon Gideon - my friend. A mortal, someone who's willing to put his life on the line and stare down the barrel of the gun. He has a family at home - I need to ensure they do not lose him tonight. But how?

I can feel the cobble stone street begin to rumble, but not from the turbulence of the people fleeing the fires surrounding us. I look around to see what is causing it, but all I see is complete chaos. People lying on the streets and sidewalks. Most lifeless, or wishing they were. Others holding the bodies of loved ones. Buildings that once stood strong, as a beacon of hope for this ever-growing city skyline, now in the midst of being reduced to piles of smoldering ash and heaps of steel.

That's when I see them. They ride in from behind mounds of black smoke and flames billowing out of one of the buildings. The scene is unlike any other I've seen in my years - and trust me there are more than I'd care to admit. People run past them, still looking to get to safety. Do they not notice them? Are my eyes playing tricks on me? Or is their fear already too great to worry about anything else?

I turn and look at Jonathon to make sure I'm not the only one who sees it. His mouth is agape, and I know at that moment he regrets his decision to stay and fight. However, he is a man of honor, and he will not let his city, or the world, be destroyed without a fight.

I turn back around to see what's in front of me, and I can hardly believe my eyes. Five horses walk through the smoke. We feel each step against the cobble stone street we stand on as if a stampede of wild animals are barreling toward us.

The horses are more terrifying than the riders themselves. Because they are neither living nor dead. They are charred beyond any recognition from what they once were. Once beautiful, majestic creatures, now damned for all eternity to chauffeur evil - The Horsemen.

Pestilence rides a white horse and carries a bow with a quiver of arrows slung over his back. War rides a red horse and carries a large medieval battle sword on his hip. Famine rides a black horse and carries no weapon as his powers are of the mind. Death rides a pale horse and carries his scythe by his side. Unlike the others, his weapon of choice stands out, as its eerie and strikes fear in the hearts of those who gaze upon it. The staff stands as tall as he does, with a large, arched blade on both ends. You can almost feel the souls that have been taken by it. And if you aren’t terrified of his blade, you will be at the sight his eyes… They are like two milky opals sunken deep into his skull. Then, there’s the Champion - The Anti-Christ. His horse is the only one that differs from the rest. As the other four stand in a straight line, he is just a bit further out, as if to lead the charge against us. The Anti-Christ, just as The First Rider, rides a white horse, but his wears a headdress made of solid gold, and The Anti-Christ carries a cavalry sword on his hip.

Jonathon and I stand shoulder to shoulder, knowing we are outnumbered and out gunned; but we do not waver, as we know this is humanity's last stand.

We peer down the street, through the smoke and the flames, at The Horsemen who would hope to cut us down where we stand. And we remain ever vigilant.

This is our time.

PRESENT DAY

Chicago

Fallen Nightclub, ever the strange environment. The people here have no idea that their world is about to change forever. To be honest, by the look of them, I doubt they would care much, if they knew.

Fallen is always an intoxicating place, almost as if someone has been pumping something through the vents to make the people inside forget how ridiculous they have been acting. But we know that's not the case. It's Azazel.

He loves humanity, even though he wants to destroy them. He thrives on this energy. People come here ever hopeful to get a glimpse of him. Of course, no one knows what he really is. They see him as a mysterious man, with the hottest club in all of Chicago. The men want to be him and the women want to be with him. However, if they knew the truth, the women might not be so willing to follow him to his VIP room.

Of course, all those that spend time with him… privately… do so willingly. He may use his abilities to have people act wild and enjoy themselves freely while in the club, but he would never do anything untoward to those that join him in his lounge. He may be evil, but he isn’t a monster.

Azazel plans, plots, schemes. He uses his abilities to ensure that everyone within his orbit loves him. He'll never be treated the way he once was. The way he was treated when he Fell from Grace all those lifetimes ago.

Tonight, unlike most nights, Azazel sits in his office. He has too much on his mind to be bothered by others, so he avoids his lounge. His office sits above the club, allowing him to look down on everyone, like a king peering down on his subjects. Or more likely, through his eyes, God looking down from the Heavens. His office sits just over the large stage where the DJ booth stands. Instead of a wall, there is a two-way mirror stretching from wall to wall for him to gaze through. From the club, the guests can see only themselves in the mirror. However, Azazel can look out all night and stare at whomever he pleases. This is usually how he picks the women to join him in the VIP room on any given night. But not tonight.

No, tonight he has an important meeting. A meeting that will dictate how the remainder of his life on earth will play out. So, he waits, and just enjoys the crowd from a distance. As they dance against one another, he sits in a chair built for a king at the edge of his office just feet from the glass. He pulls a silver case from the inside of his suit jacket pocket, opens it, and removes a cigarette; then lightly taps the filter of it on the case, and places it back into his jacket pocket. He pulls out a matching silver trench lighter with a black leather grip. After lighting his cigarette, he takes a long, smooth drag. Enjoying the smoke for a moment, he pauses, then exhales. He finishes off a drink he has next to him. A Vodka martini on the rocks with two onion stuffed olives - he's very particular. He places the glass on the wide arm rest of his chair, and without looking, points his finger to the bottom of the glass and slowly raises it to the top. The glass fills back up and stirs gently on its own for just a moment.

With the gift to do almost anything you please, one would think he would be the happiest man there is. However, joy has always eluded Azazel. Ever since the day he was found in that unknown valley, that is. It's a day he prefers not to speak of.

As Azazel sits and waits, the knock on the door he has been expecting finally arrives. He perks up slightly but doesn't say anything. The person at the door walks right in.