Night Watching Book Review Novels & Stories

On the cupboard, Nick and Rachel kept smiling, frame angled a hair further toward the mantel as if memory itself wanted a better view of the war. They muscled the boxes to the ute. On the ridge road, Gabe stole a last look at the reef. The slick circle out beyond convulsed and collapsed. Phosphorescence pulsed where the temple slept—a gate beating like a heart. Far along the blue line south, something vast cut toward Sydney. The newspaper lay open on the dash, that bad still of a city’s worst night: werewolves on taxis, winged shapes over the Quay, a blade of light on the steps.

I waited until I could no longer see their backs. Then I went back to her room. She hadn’t moved. Still sleeping. I sat on the floor beside the bed this time. My hand rested on the mattress near hers. I wasn’t going to sleep tonight. I was going to watch. My father’s men would realize soon that they had lost the book but this time if they came back, I would finish every single one of them.

Guilty conscience, indeed. "Of course, I've been sleeping here. If you hadn't woken me, I probably would've slept till the end of my shift," I replied nonchalantly. Veronica chuckled, "Have some water. I won't disturb your sleep any longer." She left a glass of water and departed. Watching her retreating figure, I pulled out the recorder from my pocket and smiled faintly. The next time I worked the night shift, neither Dr. McCartney nor Veronica were present. Strange, where could they have gone?

She had already sprinted past the turnoff for her apartment building; leading these unknown killers to her safe house would be suicide. She needed to lose them in the dark, because if she failed to break their line of sight, she would likely end up as a corpse on an autopsy table by morning. The path ahead was pitch black, unlit by any city infrastructure, but her enhanced night vision handled the darkness without issue. Fortunately, she knew these back alleys like the back of her hand. Reaching the absolute end of the concrete maze, the narrow path finally opened up into the wide, brightly lit expanse of the multi-lane highway.

As I left the bathroom a heaviness took over my eyes—I was more tired than I'd thought. Zane was seated on the couch in the room, reading a book when I entered. I tried to not look at him, but I sure as hell felt his eyes following me like magnets drawn to my flesh as I slid into his bed. When I had settled in, he got up and went to take a bath as well, but sleep captured me before he finished. — In the dead of the night, strange noises woke me. I looked out the window, and saw the big silver moon shining in all its glory. Full. Whole. A perfect night to shift for those who still possessed their wolves.

Quintus nodded but Malitus hissed, “What? What are you saying to me and who is out there? And where are the bloody, forsaken villagers? Answer me! Did they all slink away into the darkness? Is it they that play at the game of war?” August realized with a start that Quintus noticed the lack of village folk as well. The villagers were gone to a man. A few of the slave boys soon confirmed with shouts that none of the native folk were anywhere to be seen. Had whatever was out there in the night taken the villagers already? Or had they fled, having knowledge he and the others didn’t possess? Regardless, it was something to worry about later. Right now, there were larger issues at hand. “General,”

I finish my dinner before diving into the book. The room gets darker after a while and I begin to realise that night has fallen. Sometimes I hear howls erupting from the outside but I’m able to ignore them. Growing up with wolves makes you used to their ways. I’m about halfway with the book when I go take another shower, getting dressed once again in one of Chase’s t-shirts. Then I scamper into bed, taking hold of the books once again. Somewhere through the reading and hearing of howls, I drift off into slumber.

But the gilded gold title was what caught my eye. Vampyres and their Nightmates My breath came in short, quick gasps, and I watched my hands reach for the book and flip it over as an observer, rather than an active participant. I could feel the book between my hands, even as my fingers moved without my permission, or my guidance; I could feel its strange, almost fuzzy texture, and I could smell the musty old-paper smell as I pressed it flat, open on the page Kathrena had been reading. Then it felt as though my dead heart stopped beating for a second time. Kathrena had been reading chapter five, but even as I read the embossed V I could see the chapter title beneath:

That much was obvious. ‘A Hundred Years of Solitude.’ She was only halfway through the book. It was a heavy one, and she couldn’t understand why she read it before she came back. Night time was perfect for a reading session, so she was reading seriously. Heather was the most attractive when she was quiet, and she drifted to sleep with a book in her hands that night. If there was one downside about night reading, that would be the fact that the reader would fall asleep easily.

I can feel Luna watching me. Waiting. I lower my gaze. “I don’t know enough to have an opinion.” He studies me. Then nods. Fair. Respectful. He doesn’t push. But Luna sees it. She sees everything. Her smile tightens. Her eyes linger on me longer than usual. Sharp. Cold. I look away. That night, I sit on my bed, reading. Or pretending to. The words blur together. I hear footsteps outside my door. A pause. Then a knock.