He finally lifts off his hood and looks up at me, his eyes now appearing simply brown. Tousled strands of dark brown, shoulder length hair stick to the side of his face in what appears to be blood. The deep gash underneath is still bleeding and my first reaction is to go to his aid. I practically leap forward, trying to cover his wound with my hand when he grabs my wrist, holding me back.
"You must stay away." his deep voice echoes around us, pulling my eyes back to his.
"Who are you?" I ask again, my body starting to tremble.
He releases my wrist and looks away, as if choosing his words carefully. "You are in danger."
"What?" I say, because I'm even more confused than before. "Who the hell are you and why did you bring me here?" I pause because the main question that's been plaguing me for months flies out of my mouth before I can stop it. "And why are you always at the cemetery when I'm there?"
He pulls himself up and I step back, wondering if I'm making him angry or worse, making him want to murder me. Clearly, he's powerful enough for the job. He carried me here like I was a feather, even though he was wounded.
He slowly turns, facing the large rock with the white crystals surrounding it in a half circle. He leans down and picks one up, leaving four remaining, and I watch it turn deep red in his fingers. He squeezes his hand and a blinding white light surrounds him for maybe a split second. I have to close my eyes and look away but when I open them again, he's still standing in the same spot. I can't find words; I can't seem to do anything but watch. His head goes down like he's bowing or maybe praying and I hear him whispering something I can't quite make it out.
He finally turns to face me again but this time all the blood, even the deep gash, everything, is completely gone. His brown eyes have that same amber hue I saw before and now I can see his whole face. He's handsome, in a rugged, fight club, kind of way and definitely muscular like he lifts weights but he's older than I thought at first. Maybe even in his mid-twenties--and there's something else, something much deeper and harder to see from just the surface. It's more of an awareness I'm getting because I can almost feel the wisdom behind his eyes, as if he's been in this world far longer.
He takes several steps toward me and stops leaving only inches between us. He holds out both hands and I take them, looking up into his eyes.
"I am your Watchman."