Prologue
“This is stupid. Completely, utterly, bat-shit-crazy-levels of stupid,” Rosea growled, looking up from the keyboard in her lap and the start of her first blog post. “I can’t believe I’m letting you convince me to do this.”
“I’m not sure why you’re upset with me,” Kristoph replied looking over her shoulder just to have the laptop closed for his intrusion. “I merely made a suggestion which you thought was a good idea at the time.”
“That ‘good idea at the time’ percolated and I thought it was a good idea too,” she answered. “Now I think it’s bat-shit crazy.”
Kristoph settled next to her on the sofa. “I don’t. I still think it’s a good idea. You’re an eloquent writer and now that the world knows there are supernatural, or paranormal, creatures in the world. They need to know there are others out there who have been protecting humankind for centuries.”
“Millenia.”
“Centuries. Millennia. Same thing.”
“Perhaps,” Rosea snorted, “But seeing you have lived barely more than four hundred years and I have lived more than ten times that, the difference, from my perspective, is quite different. If you survive a millennia or two, you might start to understand how centuries are not the same as millennia.”
Kristoph shrugged. Rosea and him had had an on-and-off relationship for the past four hundred years. She had been his first instructor in being a sentinel. In that time he learned Rosea was often right when she argued something. Not always right, but pretty damn close.
“The question of how old you are aside, I still think this is a good idea and I think you still think it’s a good idea,” he said, reaching over to open the laptop. “Worry less about what people will think about who you are and just write. Don’t worry if it’s good or bad; it can be edited later. You admonish me that I need to do things now because in our line of work, sometimes there isn’t a later to get things done in. If that ever happens with you, at least you’re getting your story out.”
He paused, moving his hand from the laptop to her neck and shoulders, giving her a gentle massage before continuing.
“I don’t think you’ll lose a fight again any time soon. You’re too good for that. But you’ve seen so much more than most sentinels have seen and millennia more than any human would see, I think you could write a book and it would sell.”
Rosea snorted again.
“A history book, perhaps,” she countered, looking down at the screen. “Fine, I’ll continue. If it goes well, you have to write one too.”
A smirk crossed Kristoph’s features at her comment.
“Deal. Get to work.”
He left her on the sofa to start working on their dinner for the night. A few minutes later he heard the rapid sound of her fingers tapping away on the keyboard to start the blog.
Every so often Kristoph has a good idea. I’m not quite sure this was one of his good ideas; time will tell. He suggested I start this blog and write about my experiences over the past 4,600 odd years. Write down my memories, my feelings, my emotions and chronicle what things were like, are like.
“Share it with the world,” he said.
I’m not sure the world is ready for this.
I’m not sure if I’m ready for the world to know what I’ve been over the five millennia I’ve been alive.
I’ve not always been a good person. Some of that was the result of circumstances, and some of that was me making poor choices and poor decisions. It probably would have helped if we had known why we were placed on the world to die over and over again at the beginning of our lives instead of a few hundred years into it. Apparently, the gods didn’t realize it was important to teach the world’s Sentinels about themselves and left us to fend for ourselves.
Which brings us to the point about what this blog will ultimately be about – educating the world about Sentinels and how we can help. Sure, I’ll tell stories about my past, answer questions about my life through the years, talk about the supernatural world at large and why, until recent years, people were mostly clueless about the supernatural that lived among them for as long as there were humans.
If you are reading this blog, then you know (or reasonably should know) that there are many creatures in the world that you thought were myths, legends or just fictional stories that are real. For the most part, every creature you’ve ever heard about growing up, whether it be vampires, werewolves, faeries, ghosts, goblins, leprechauns or even Fenrir, kelpies or mermaids (though the last no longer exist as far as we know) are real. I don’t remember who said it, but there was a comment made that most fantastical stories are based on partial truths.
Most of you, unless you’ve been living under a rock, know that vampires came out from the coffin almost a decade ago and live openly among humans. A few other creatures have done so as well, but others live peacefully, for the most part, in hiding amongst you like Sentinels do and there is no harm in that. And while there is no harm in that, there is a reason for that and the reason is due to the Sentinels that live among you.
So now I’m going to answer the question I’m sure you’re asking: what is a Sentinel?
A sentinel, according to the dictionary, is a soldier or guard whose job is to stand and keep watch.
In many ways, that definition is accurate. We keep watch, but we don’t just keep watch, we take action as needed to protect the lives of human and other supernatural creatures as needed from supernatural creatures that are causing problems. In many ways, we’re almost a supernatural police force that knows how to take care of things when shit hits the fan.
Sometimes we’re called in by supernatural communities to take roles as a neutral party when internal problems arise. Sometimes we’re asked to resolve situations where if one party or another would resolve it, it would result in turmoil amongst their factions. Since we’ve let ourselves be known to many local and international crime units, we’re also called in when there seems like something strange is going on that might have a touch of supernatural around it. They have come to realize we’re much better equipped to handle situations that involve the supernatural than they are and, like us, they’re about saving lives even if sometimes it’s about saving their own.
It wasn’t always this way. In fact, for thousands of years, it wasn’t and it was only in the last couple of years with the extreme advances of technology that we figured it was best for us to let them know what we were and how we could help and, I believe, it has been beneficial. Especially considering we live thousands of years longer than humans do, for the most part.
TL;DR version: We are here to help. If you have ghosts, sorry, you’re on your own; if you have a poltergeist, then we can help. If a vampire is causing problems for you, we can intervene. If you have a boyfriend abusing you, I might be convinced to teach him a lesson or two if you’re local; if your boyfriend is a supernatural creature and you’re not, you can bet your ass he’ll be taken care of. If it seems to be supernatural, let someone know. Word gets back to us and a Sentinel will look into it.
Now to answer the second question this blog has you asking: are you immortal?
The answer to that is complicated: yes and no. Yes, in that we can die and come back to life after regenerating our wounds. We heal quickly and because we come back from what sometimes seem to be catastrophic injuries that result in death, many people mistake that for immortality. I would argue that it just means you’re hard to permanently kill.
Which brings me to the no part of the answer. We are not immortal. We can be permanently killed if the being in question knows one of the ways to permanently kill one of us and there are some beings out there that know these things. I think it is foolish to believe that we are immortal because believing it can make you sloppy; believe me I’ve seen it happen.
This is why the first thing I teach all Sentinels is this: Just because you think something is immortal because you haven’t been able to permanently put it down yet doesn’t mean it’s immortal. Not even the gods are immortal. You just haven’t learned how to put that creature or god down yet. When you figure it out, you’ll realize quickly how not-immortal they really are.
People used to think vampires were immortal until they learned how to kill them.
I’m sure you’re also asking: what do you mean you weren’t always a good person?
Long answer is best saved for another day. Short answer: even if we’re Sentinels, we’re still human and as humans we make mistakes. As long-lived humans, our propensity for mistakes can last a lot longer than it should. I’ve learned, and grown, from my mistakes. It doesn’t make me a good person, but it makes me a better person than I used to be.
Ultimately, whether you’re a human, a Sentinel or a supernatural creature, we are the sum of our pasts: good, bad and ugly. It’s how you live in the present that matters most.
***
Chapter 1
In the first few thousand years of being a Sentinel, I remember how odd it was to find another of our kind. It wasn’t something that happened in a timely manner. Sometimes the god or goddess that created them were on a friendly basis with mortals and would visit the mortal realm to explain to the new Sentinel what they were, what they were expected to do and basic rules to follow. Most of them figured we would learn it on our own or someone else would eventually find us and teach us. I have to say that’s not been the best course of action.
It was more than 250 years before my first husband and mentor, Naditabirus, tracked me down after hearing rumors of a red-haired beauty who had died and returned to life and was serving as a priestess of Ma’at, the Egyptian goddess of the Underworld, truth, justice, morality and balance. Since no one was certain why I had been restored to life, it was thought, perhaps, it was because Ma’at wanted justice done for my unjust death. If she was my goddess, she never admitted to it.
Every sentinel remembers their first death, no matter the circumstance. They oftentimes remember other deaths; deaths that were significant or memorable amongst the hundreds or thousands of deaths since their first death are among those remembered.
My first death took place around 4,592 years ago as a slave in Egypt.
I had been born a slave and died a slave, but at least I didn’t come back as one that time.
Back then, many Sentinels came back to life and died many times, sometimes dying a permanent death before they ever learned what they were. In time, we got better at tracking them down. Well some of us did. I would often be gifted with a vision of a Sentinel that hadn’t been found or trained and needed help adjusting to their new role as a protector of the human realm. Some had their god or goddess tell them. Others accidentally came across them when they came back to life. A few Sentinels could sense other Sentinels or could sense their magic.
These days fewer Sentinels are being created and when they are, it is usually due to the death of a Sentinel or a god or goddess seeing a need for more in the realm due to an unforeseen threat.
I still don’t know how gods and goddesses choose who they choose to be one of their Sentinels. Or why some have several Sentinels while others only have one at a time. Or for that matter who my creator was. It would be helpful in many cases to know all of these things.
I suppose there will always be something that is a mystery to me after all these millennia.
-Sentinel Chronicles Blog Entry
***
It was never a good thing when the phone rang at 4 a.m. The feeling it was going to be a long day grew when it was from a blocked number. Rosea pondered not answering the phone, rubbing her hand through her hair before she gave up and pulled it from the charger, sliding her finger across the screen before putting it to her ear, slowing sitting up in bed as she did so.
“Rosea speaking.”
“I think we’ve got one of yours down in the morgue,” said a familiar voice on the other end of the line.
Rosea’s brows furrowed. What did he mean by one of hers? Then it dawned on her.
“A Sentinel? You have a Sentinel in your morgue?” she asked, a bit surprised.
“I think so,” the voice said with a laugh. “Though if he is, he doesn’t know it. He has no memory of being a Sentinel when I brought it up to him.”
“Awww shit,” she muttered, sliding out of bed and searching for a pair of underwear to pull on followed by jeans. “What morgue are we talking about?”
“Don’t recognize my voice? I’m offended,” he said with a laugh, then muffled the phone but she heard him say, “Sorry man, you need to stay here until the boss lady shows up. She’ll be able to help you sort things out. Sit. We’ll find you some clothes,” then the voice came back. “It’s Joe.”
“Sorry Joe. I was in a deep sleep when you called,” she pulled on her jeans as she talked then headed to the closet. “I’ll be there in about two hours, give or take with traffic. Make him stay there. Knock him out if you have to.”
“Will do. Don’t break any laws to get here.”
She snorted at his words, looking through the closet till she found the top she wanted as well as her boots.
“That takes all the fun out of this. Ciao.”
She ended the call, tossing her phone on the end of the bed while she grabbed her bra from the floor and finished dressing. She felt Kristoph’s arms wrap around her from behind and she paused a moment to lean back against him.
“Any idea who Joe has?” he asked, kissing her cheek and letting her go so she could finish getting ready.
She got up and went to her dresser, pulling on several rings, bracelets on each wrist, earrings and necklace. It wasn’t her heaviest arsenal of spells, but it had quite a bit of power for her to pull from if she needed to.
“No idea. No one was planning to be out tonight, nothing had been called to attention. It could have been an accident or it could be something else all together,” she answered as she pulled on her belt holster and put her handgun into it then tucked a knife into her boots.
“Something else?”
“Could be a brand-spank-me-new Sentinel,” she answered.
There was silence in the room as she headed out the door. He heard the front door shut and the lock slide shut and minutes later the truck started. He was certain she was thinking the same thing he was – there hadn’t been a new Sentinel created in almost two and a half centuries.
***
Sheer will, copious amounts of coffee and loud rock and roll with the windows rolled down was the only thing keeping Rosea awake on the way into town. She hated this cesspool of a city, Dallas, she was driving into. Luckily it was still early enough that first shift wasn’t starting yet, but in another hour or so it would be full swing and she’d have to navigate it to head back home.
She would definitely need more coffee to survive that, or a spell; she’d figure it out when it was time to head back.
She pulled into the parking garage, navigating into a parking spot and hanging up her contractor badge in the rear view mirror. Climbing down out of the truck she paused at her reflection in the mirror, cursing. The wind had done a number on her hair. She walked around to the other side and opened the glove box and pulled out a brush and quickly fixed the issue, her hair tamed down by a full quick pulls through it. Tossing the brush back in the glove box, she closed it and locked the truck up and headed inside.
The hospital was still relatively quiet with only minimal staff on hand as it normally was overnight with the cafeteria as well as gift and food shops closed. Only a security guard manned the desk instead of the normally friendly volunteers giving directions. She nodded her head as she walked past, boots tapping rapidly on the floor as she headed past the visitor elevators, around a corner and to a staff elevator.
A sigh escaped her lips as she paused in front of the doors. She hated morgues – absolutely hated them. Perhaps part of it was the faint ability to feel what was left of their owners in them, perhaps it was just hating to see mortals dead, or the eerie smell of death that permeated the area. She couldn’t honestly say what it was about them and the modernness of them that got to her. She reached into her back pocket and tapped her badge against the panel and one of the doors slide open. Tapping the badge against the panel inside she pressed the floor she wanted to go down to, watching the doors slide close as she put the badge back in her back pocket.
The ding from the elevator stopping where she wanted brought her out of a brief reverie and she shook her head, making her way down the hall to curse when the doors didn’t open. She took out the badge again and slapped it against the wall to a flash of green and the doors opening to let her in.
“Don’t look so happy to be here, Rosea,” Joe said, opening the door to another room. “I’ve got him in my office and have him dressed in a fresh change of scrubs from upstairs. He’s not too happy to be here.”
“I’d be happier if it wasn’t almost 6:30 in the morning,” she retorted. “I finally get into a healthy sleeping pattern just to have it regularly interrupted these days. What do we have here?”
She leaned against the front desk, peering in through the blinds at the man she could barely see through the half-closed slats.
“Name is Kaden Jacobs, 32-years-old, male. Died on the operating table after being the victim of a drive-by shooting at a convenience store. Police believe he was an innocent bystander caught in the wrong place at the wrong time,” Joe was interrupted by Kaden in the other room.
“You do realize I’m sitting right here and can hear everything you’re saying, right? I’m not dead. I’m sitting right here, breathing. Living.”
Before Joe could respond, Rosea answered.
“I can see that and I don’t care. Shut up while Joe finishes telling me what he knows of your story.”
The abrupt harshness of her response silenced him, at least for the moment.
“He was brought down here four-ish hours before I called you and put in the cooler while they tried to find his next of kin to find out where to take him,” he paused, eying Kaden in the other room. “It’s really a bit disturbing when a corpse starts screaming and banging inside the cooler to be let out and having a panic attack.”
“I was freezing, asshole.”
Rosea choked back a laugh at Kaden’s response, but wasn’t able to keep the smirk off her face.
“So you let him out, saw he wasn’t dead, saw he had no gaping bullet wounds at all, only scars in their place, hoped you were high on something and decided it was best to call me in case it was one of ours or something else?” she asked.
“Pretty much,” Joe agreed. “Knew he couldn’t be a vampire. A vamp would have been healed before they got him to the hospital. Hell a vamp would be raging all over the ambulance and we’d be treating the EMTs instead of the vamp.”
Rosea nodded in agreement. Chances are there wouldn’t be EMTs to treat, just to bury, but she wouldn’t voice that to Joe. If she had learned one thing in her long life, it was not to point out the potential obvious truths. Mortals preferred to believe they had a fighting chance. It gave them hope and hope, she found, was important for everyone involved.
“What else do you have Joe?” She knew he wasn’t telling her everything and she intentionally eyed the lab equipment before turning her stern look to him.
“He’s got the same freakish qualities of blood as you do,” he finally admitted after she stared him down for a few moments. “I honestly just found that out just before you got here.”
“Uh huh.” She didn’t believe him, but she’d let it slide at least for now.
Joe swallowed a lump in his throat, watching as Rosea absently twirled a red lock around her long fingers.
“So…is he one of yours?” he finally asked.
Rosea pushed herself off the desk, heading toward his office, answering just before she closed the door behind her.
“He is now.”
***
“I am now, what?” Kaden immediately asked as the door closed behind the red-haired woman in front of him.
She didn’t answer him as she moved around the desk to sit in the nice office chair that obviously belonged to the medical examiner. It didn’t escape him that she was stunningly gorgeous, but moved with what he would call almost deadly fluidity. If that one chick wasn’t portraying Black Widow for the movies, he’d say this woman would definitely fit the role to a T.
He couldn’t quite explain it – it seemed like she could have been a visage of Death itself. Seeing the gun at her waist made him amend his thoughts; she was likely trained to kill if needed. At that he realized perhaps, just perhaps, he should toe the line a little more carefully. After all he had apparently already died once today.
Rosea didn’t answer him right away because she was studying him, noting his tattoos, how he held himself, the way he was looking at her and seeming to make certain realizations about her just like she was about him. The smart ass in her wanted to give him a flippant answer, echoing Joe’s question about him being one of hers. But she knew, from experience, telling someone they were one of hers, at least using that terminology, was a way to piss them off. Instead she answered honestly.
“A Sentinel.”
Kaden’s brows furrowed at the simple four syllable answer she gave him. He knew, vaguely, the dictionary definition of a sentinel: a guardian. He knew, like almost everyone else did these days, that there were supernatural creatures living amongst them. He also knew, like some others, there were other types than the ones that lived openly amongst humans. What he didn’t know was what she meant by him being a sentinel. As far as he knew he was a normal person, or had been until not too long ago.
“I don’t understand,” he finally admitted, taking another drink of his coffee.
“If you did understand, I’d be surprised at you staying in the morgue this long,” she answered. “Most Sentinels come back after their first death with no idea that Sentinels even exist. If they’re lucky, another Sentinel will find them, teach them and help them to grow in their new journey. If not…well let’s just say it was a good two hundred years before a Sentinel found me and taught me about my new life.”
Kaden arched an eyebrow at her answer, which really didn’t help him to understand what a Sentinel was, so he asked. “Just what is a Sentinel?”
“You are,” she answered, raising her hand when she saw anger cross his features at the flippant answer. “So am I. So is my lover. Sentinels are, basically a police force of the supernatural world. We protect the humans who don’t know how to protect themselves from creatures that are out of control. We intervene when things are going south. Remember a few years back when there was a group of rogue vampires draining victims and leaving them hanging from bridges around town?”
Kaden nodded at the question. It had been a gruesome situation with as many as eight bodies found hanging from bridges and there were more corpses night after night.
“The news said a task force tracked the nest of vampires down and took care of them,” he answered.
Rosea nodded at his answer. She was pleased he remembered it. It made it easier to explain.
“Me and my team of Sentinels took care of that problem. We set a trap with bait and resolved the situation quick and painlessly,” she answered. It wasn’t as cut and dry as quick and painless, but it would do. “That is what we do. We are behind the scenes. We do what needs to be done because we are the only ones capable of doing it,” she got to her feet and headed to the door, “Hold that thought.”
She opened the door and accepted the two cups of coffee from Joe, kicking it closed behind her as she handed Kaden a cup of coffee and took a drink from hers, sighing happily as she sank back into the chair. He shook the cup he held, not realizing it was empty until then and tossed it in the trash before swirling the coffee in its cup.
“How come no one knows of Sentinels?” he asked. “And how did I become one?”
Both questions were good questions. She pulled her phone out of her pocket, glancing at it before tossing it on the desk. If they left now they’d be stuck in rush hour traffic. Not that it really mattered at this point.
“The answer to the first question is complicated,” she answered. “I think people have known we’ve existed, they just chose to look the other way. It’s easier to make up something rather than believe in the supernatural or paranormal. People would believe I was a daughter or granddaughter of someone they knew in the past rather than believe I was the same person. We also didn’t let it be widely known until recently. The word is slowly getting out there on who to call if they see trouble brewing. At the same time, we don’t want to be widely known. We’d rather be the unsung heroes fighting to good fight and protecting mortals.”
She took another sip of her coffee. The second question had a lot longer answer that would have many questions for him to answer as well. She supposed that’s where she should start.
“The second question is a lot more complicated than the first,” she admitted with a smile. “Tell me, who do you worship?”
He choked on his coffee at that strange question and he immediately answered with a lie. They did, after all, live in Texas.
“God. I’m a devout Christian. What kind of question is that?” he asked, trying to sound offended. “And what does it matter?”
She arched her eyebrows and pointed to his bicep and the gorgeous sleeve work done which showed an artistic rendering of the symbol of the Goddess and her blessings. “So you’re saying you don’t follow the Goddess?”
“I…” he paused, not wanting to answer honestly. “I’d rather not discuss that here.”
“Fair enough,” she smirked, “We can discuss it in the truck.”
“Truck?” he looked alarmed at her words. “Where are we going?”
“I’m kidnapping you…or corpse napping you if you prefer,” she answered sarcastically. “First we’re going to go to your place so you can pack some things and get dressed in real clothes so you can have some dignity left. After that, breakfast, copious amounts of coffee and heading out to my ranch.”
“Your ranch? Why your ranch? I have things I need to take care of,” he answered, not liking he wasn’t being given a choice in this.
“As far as the world is concerned, you’re dead. If you were dead, you wouldn’t be taking care of the things you claim you need to take care of. We’ll get the dead issue fixed quick enough,” she answered. “As to why? Because you need to learn what your powers are, what you do as a Sentinel and most importantly how to fight with whatever powers you’ve been given.”
Rosea rose to her feet, putting the cup of coffee on the desk while she searched for her car keys and pulled the badge she needed to get them out of the out of her pocket.
“And you want answers but you don’t want to honestly answer the questions I have in a morgue so we have to leave in order for you to get your answers,” she added, picking up her cup of coffee. “I mean unless you really want to go at this alone. You might live a few hundred years but most likely you’ll meet your end quicker than fish out of water. Your choice.”
Kaden watched as she walked around the desk and pulled the door open with a hand full of keys and a badge.
Rosea paused before exiting the office.
“Be sure to figure out your choice before the elevator doors close.”
Kaden blinked at the abruptness of her words and actions, hesitating for the briefest moments before getting to his feet and running out the door to catch the morgue doors closing.
“Hey wait a second! Let me get my things from the M.E. before we leave,” he asked, his shoulders dropping with relief when she turned and nodded, waiting for him.
She hadn’t been in a rush to leave, but she knew if she took off he’d decide to co-operate quicker and go with her rather than argue every step of the way. Sometimes it was easier to not answer the questions you know they want answers to in order to protect them.
It didn’t take long for the medical examiner to bring him the clear plastic bag of his belongings and he quickly walked out the door to the waiting woman in the hallway. He realized then she never gave him her name. They walked the rest of the way down to the elevators and he watched as she pressed her badge to the sensor like these events were every day things for her. For that matter, it was odd she had a badge at all, he thought, but perhaps it had to do with being a Sentinel. He followed her onto the elevator and when the doors closed he asked.
“What do I call you? You know my name, but I don’t know yours.”
“You can call me by the name I’ve gone by for generations,” she answered. “Rosea.”
“Spanish?” he asked. Based on her pale skin tone and the name she had to be.
She laughed at his question. It was a question she had fielded a number of times before.
“I was born a long time before Spain was ever thought of as a country. I do not know where I was originally from, but I grew up in Egypt during the construction of the pyramids.”
A smirk crossed her features when she saw his eyes widen and then his jaw drop when he realized just how old she really was.
“Holy fucking shit.”
“I get that reaction frequently. It never gets old.”
The elevator stopped at the main floor and by the level of noise in the hallways, she knew the day was more than underway for everyone at the hospital. “Let’s go.”
They walked the rest of the way to her truck in silence.
Chapters will first come to Ream Stories and then eventually be published to Amazon. If you are interested in reading this series, join any of the Sentinels tiers or the combination Sentinels and Shifters tiers to read it before it goes to Amazon.
