then , all at once , the memories of the night before came rushing back with a force that left him winded : the silver land rover hanging over the windshield like the blade of a guillotine the meadow , with the hideous rainbow and the grisly images of thomas the driver , lily , cole , brock , and himself , covered in blood the centaurs charging towards them , their hooves pounding on the ground , close enough that he could see their bared yellow teeth the shock of teleporting from a tree in the forest to a hallway lined with paintings , landing face down in a blood-red carpet his own reflection staring at him from the canvas of a painting , clothed in a homely blue robe , with a scrubby beard and a crown on his head the deep bone chill as isdemus told him the shadow lord had been searching for him for 1500 years and isdemuss voice saying , yes , bruce is a watcher .