Sentinels of Creation: A Tale of Two Gardens (Sentinel's of Creation Book 2)

by Robert Ross

  “Ah, that must be it then. I must admit to a modicum of relief in that. My distain for humanity truly is a cornerstone of my existence to have it be otherwise would, I suspect, prove detrimental to my sanity. Now, to your question. As you are aware, the Sentinels for Order and Chaos exist outside divine providence. God cannot see what you do, hear what you think, or even know of your interactions with others. Lucifer is similarly bound by such a restriction, however, Kali assures me that he continually finds small and temporary ways around it. We have no proof, of course. Lucifer is far too crafty to disclose such a thing, but I have no doubt Kali is correct in her assessment. Be that as it may, agents of Order or Chaos are restricted from knowing most aspect of both you and your opposite. The Cabal has discovered a means to replicate this cloak by using blood from either Micah, now you, or Maurius.”

  Kellan grimaced, “What do they do, drink it? Smear it on themselves?”

  Samael shook his head, “Nothing that mundane, Kellan. They use it to activate a runic charm they’ve developed. A single drop placed in the carving and any angel or demon wearing such a ring or pendant is obscured from our Father’s sight.”

  “Really,” asked Kellan, “That seems like a pretty big oversight for an omniscient being to make.”

  “Omniscient,” snorted Kali, “Bah!”

  “Do not!” growled Ariel rising and unfurling her massive wings, “Do not, denigrate my Father while I am present lest I breach this truce and—“

  “Oh relax, Ariel,” said Seramai, grinning through his beard. “Look at her,” he continued, gesturing at Kali, “She’s baiting you and you bit, again.” The demon tried to look innocent, but simply wasn’t built for it, finally giving up and showing her teeth to the angel. Ariel slammed her fist on the table and stalked away muttering.

  “Sore subject?” Kellan asked.

  “Pay it no mind,” said Ah’Anon waving a hand dismissively, “Those two have been at each other since before I was born and I’m sure will still be long after I am dust.”

  Kellan nodded in understanding and turned his attention back to Samael, “And how do they acquire this blood. I doubt it was given freely, even by Maurius.”

  “Certainly not,” the angel answered, “But Sentinels tend to leave blood all around them. From what I hear, you left pools of it across both Atlanta and Afghanistan.”

  “Fair point,” Kellan conceded.

  “Indeed,” accepted Samael graciously, “So long as the blood has not dried, it can be used to this purpose. So,” the angel clapped his hands together, “We have a group of angels and demons working together, but to what end? They have been acquiring artifacts of great power. Again, to what end?” He stared at Kellan expectantly.

  “What? I have no idea. I didn’t even know they existed a week ago.”

  “They seek to reconcile God and Satan,” said Samael triumphantly. “That is the ends to which all their machinations strive.”

  Kellan’s mouth turned down and he nodded slowly as the thought sunk in, “Well, that doesn’t sound so bad. Maybe it would be a good thing.”

  Ah’Anon smiled and said, “That is almost exactly what young Juliet said while you were,” he winked at Kellan, “indisposed.”

  Samael gave the vampire a sidelong glance then turned back to Kellan. “Well, there is a bit of a catch,” said the angel.

  “Of course there is,” said Kellan, “What’s the catch. Hit me.”

  Samael nodded toward the head of the table and Mircalla smiled mirthlessly, “The catch, my dear ally, is that for God and Satan to reconcile, Creation and all that came hence, must be undone.”

  “That’s one big fraking catch,” Kellan whispered, eyes growing wide, “How are they going to manage that?”

  “We don’t know,” said Ah’Anon, “Samael, here, left the Cabal after he discovered their intent but before he could uncover the means.”

  “Well, that’s less than ideal,” mumbled Kellan, “Why didn’t you stay and find that out, Samael?”

  “There was a little matter of them deciding to kill me, Kellan. I am sorry that you are disappointed, but I rather enjoy the deaths of others a fair bit more than my own.”

  Kellan nodded mostly to himself, then glanced down the table to Mircalla, “I suppose this is where I come in? You need my help to find out exactly how they plan to unravel creation?”

  “No, Kellan, we already have many who are focused on that very thing, although additional help is always welcome. What I need you to do is safeguard both Spear of Destiny and Seal of Solomon. We are convinced that whatever plans the Cabal has cannot be put in motion without the Spear and have divined that we cannot succeed without the Seal.”

  Kellan frowned. “You want me to babysit some old spear and a medallion? That doesn’t seem to take full advantage of what I might offer, but never let it be said I turn down the easy stuff. Sure, hand ‘em over and I’ll keep your baubles safe.” The Sentinel paused looking left at Seramai who was shaking, barely containing his laughter. “OooKayy,” said Kellan, “Jokes on me again. What am I missing this time?”

  Seramai slapped the table unable to contain his laughter any longer, “We don’t have those artifacts, Kellan. As Ah’Anon told you, they are guarded elsewhere. Did you think we had suddenly acquired them in the span of the last few hours?” Kellan just shrugged and the general continued, “If we had, I assure you we would bury them in the deepest trench in the deepest ocean surrounded by a phalanx of inhumans to guard them. No, we need you to retrieve them before the Cabal discovers their location or, if they already know, figures a way to extract them.”

  Kellan looked thoughtful, “So why don’t you go get them yourselves?”

  “Ah, now you are asking the right questions, young Sentinel,” said Seramai still chuckling. “The answer is these last two items rest in places exceptionally difficult for angels, demons, or inhumans to reach.”

  “Why does getting information from you feel like I’m pulling teeth,” asked Kellan turning to Ah’anon. “Have they been moved or are they still where you described?”

  “The spear,” began Mircalla, “lies beneath the Vatican and is warded from all demonic presence, as you might expect. Even a Sentinel’s blood medallion would not protect a Cabalic Angel from detection if they were to even touch the Spear of Longinus. They would immediately become fallen so, at present, we do not think they have means to extract the Spear.”

  “And the Seal?”

  “Equally problematic, but for entirely different reasons. It can be found on a small island in Lake Michigan where several powerful ley lines meet. All attempts to venture inland have had,” she paused as if seeking the right words, “unfortunate results. We suspect that you will have better results and so ask your assistance there as well. I will provide you the specific location, assuming you are willing of course.”

  Kellan didn’t pause with his reply, “Of course I’m willing. Creation on the line and all that. Seems right up my alley.” Kellan looked around the table noticing the distinct relief mingled with surprise among all those assembled accept Lamia. “What?” he asked as she touched his hand.

  The succubus leaned over and kissed his cheek while whispering softly, “They didn’t believe me when I told them you would help us.” She pulled back but left her hand on his.

  “We assumed you would be too fearful to aid those angelic among us and too idealistic to support the fallen or inhuman,” said Ariel having returned to stand behind her chair. “I remain unconvinced that you will see this through to the finish.”

  Kellan waved a hand, “Whatever, Ariel. I swear, you and Michael should totally date.” Then he pushed himself up from the table. “Ok gang, this has been fun, but I’m hungry and since no refreshments were provided for this little meeting, I’m going to head out and get a Po-Boy.” Kellan turned to Mircalla. “Countess, thank you for trusting me with this. I won’t let you down. Now, even I can find the Vatican, but do you have some kind of secret map that shows me where Mic
higan’s mysterious island is?”

  She smiled, stood and extended her hand. Kellan bent down and gave it a soft kiss, then looked up to see her suppressing a laugh. “Wrong move?” he asked embarrassed, “There are so many time lines. I can’t keep my etiquette straight.” Then she did laugh, but there was no mocking in it.

  “Not at all, Kellan. It is refreshing that anyone even makes the attempt these days. As for the location,” she smiled again, “I’ll text you.”

  The young Sentinel stared at her a moment, then just shook his head and said, “Of course you will.” He then made a quick round among the Council, receiving and offering both thanks and well wishes until he came to Seramai.

  As the large man gripped his forearm again, he said, “You won’t be getting rid of me that easily. Our Countess has asked me to accompany you to retrieve the Spear of Longinus. Let me know when you are ready, and I will come.”

  “Oh, well, sure, I guess,” said Kellan confused, then turned to Mircalla. “I thought you said both artifacts were warded against all of you?”

  The Countess had been talking softly with Ah’Anon but glanced over, “Hmm, oh, yes, but not him,” she said indicating Seramai. “He’s different. He’ll be fine.”

  “Fine? But,” Kellan stopped, noting that Mircalla was no longer paying him any attention. “Ok, big guy,” he said, turning back to the general, “What makes you so special? If you are not demon, angel, werewolf, or vampire, what exactly are you?”

  Seramai laughed, “Why, Kellan Thorne, I am a god.”

  Kellan stared at him flatly, “Fine, don’t tell me. I’ve seen God and you are no God, but whatever. How do I reach you? Are you going to text me too?”

  Seramai shook his head in disgust, “No, I never use the things of this age. They disgust me. Simply call my name three times and I will come. Such is the way of gods.”

  Kellan snorted, “Yeah, and Beetlejuice. I’ll give ya a summons once I arrange for a bit more help on my end.”

  Seramai nodded while maintaining the enigmatic smile he wore most of the day. Kellan turned with a final wave to the remaining members of Havilah’s high council and began walking back toward the second gate.

  Chapter 9

  Vatican Heist

  Kellan waited for the elevator door to close then lifted both hands in an aggressive gesture toward the woman. The air shimmered as he became visible and he saw her eyes widen in alarm.

  “Arrr…Ahhh!!” yelled Kellan, first as a battle cry, and then in pain as the woman smoothly tossed one of the two cups of coffee she was carrying into the air, backhanded him in the face, and then caught it again.

  She smiled brightly at the Sentinel who rubbed his reddened cheek. “Hi Kellan, what brings you to New Orleans,” then her face broke into mock sadness, “Oh, did I hurt the mighty Sentinel with my teeny tiny bitch slap?”

  “What the fuck, Meghan? I was invisible. Invisible!”

  “Not to me you weren’t.”

  “Wha? How?”

  The former Marine looked smug as the elevator chimed, doors opening, “I’m not telling.”

  Kellan followed her into the hallway, “Aw c’mon Meg, that’s not cool. If I’m screwing something up it could get me killed and such. Then you’d really feel bad and—“ He looked around, “Hey, this is a really nice hotel? What are you doing here?” He reached for one of the coffees. “Can I have one of those?”

  “For God’s sake Kellan, you are like a squirrel on meth and no, you may not have my coffee.”

  “But you have two.”

  Megan worked her jaw but kept her voice even, “One is mine and the other is—“

  “Boyfriend?” interjected Kellan. “Are you on a little romantic excursion, Meghan? New Orleans is great for that. Have you had breakfast at Brennan’s. They have these little rooster stickers that,” he paused warily taking a half step back as Meghan narrowed her eyes at him, “Ok, shutting up now.”

  “Look at me, you unobservant geek-nerd hybrid. Do I look like I’m on a date.”

  Kellan took stock, eyes washing up and down her, instantly locking in details both large and small. “Nope, not a date.”

  “And why is that, Kellan,” Meghan asked in a long suffering tone. Kellan’s face broke into a fierce grin. “Fresh Demi Moore from Ghost haircut, impeccably tailored suit designed to obscure ballistic armor, a Glock 41 shoulder holster, Walther PPK ankle holster, and two tactical knives. Meghan. You are on a job, aren’t you?”

  “Three.”

  “You are on three jobs?”

  “No, idiot. Three tactical knives.”

  “Really? Where’s the third one?”

  She smiled wickedly, “I could show you,” her voice then changing to a sing-song cadence, “but you—have—a girlfriend.” Her smile vanished, mouth forming a line. “Now piss off, I’m working.”

  “What, as a waitress?”

  “As a body guard, Kellan. And for what they are paying me, I’ll bring them up coffee, croissants, and the NY Times.”

  “This place seems pretty nice,” continued Kellan, “Don’t they have room service.”

  Meghan sighed. “My client likes Cafe Au Lait from Cafe Du Monde, so that’s what she gets.”

  With that Meghan turned the corner and headed toward two large double doors with a placard that read “Royal Orleans: French Quarter Suite,” and spoke over her shoulder, “I’m going in now so my client can have her coffee hot. There is another guard just inside the door and if he sees you, there’s a reasonable chance he’ll shoot you in the face.”

  “Ok, I’ll wait for you by the elevator then.”

  “I’m not meeting you at the elevator. I’m on a job.”

  “I need your help—” began Kellan

  “No. You have less than five seconds.” She tapped the door with her shoe and felt a prickle on the back of her neck as the door began to open and Kellan whispered from behind her right ear.

  “—to steal a magical spear from the Pope.”

  The door swung open to reveal a large man with distinctly slavic features standing well over six feet tall and nearly half as wide.

  “God dammit,” said Meghan shaking her head.

  “What?” asked the guard in a thickly accented voice as he accepted the cup Meghan offered. His eyes took in the hallway, which appeared empty but for the two of them.

  Meghan sighed, “Nothing Alexei, I just forgot the beignets.”

  “I call service for room,” he said affecting a smile and winking at her. “You stay here.” Another smile. “With me.”

  “No, Alexei,” responded Meghan in a tone that clearly brooked no further debate. “Room service never delivers them hot enough. I will be right back.”

  The guard looked disappointed but nodded and Meghan turned, heading back down the hall. As soon as the door clicked behind her, she heard a disembodied voice speak from what seemed like empty air with a comically affected accent, “I call service for room. Maybe I service you too, girl with gun.”

  “Shut the fuck up, Kellan,” lilted Meghan as she turned the corner and mashed the down button on the elevator bank.

  The doors to the elevator closed and Kellan appeared next to Meghan. She rounded on him. “Ok, you’ve gotten my attention, you immature bastard.” She glanced up to the floor indicators as they flashed by: 42, 41, 40…

  “You have until we get to the Lobby. Give me your best elevator pitch why in heaven or hell I should put my reputation at risk, let alone my client, to go off galavanting with you.”

  Kellan’s eyes glowed brightly as he leaned casually against the inlayed wood of the elevator car.

  “Better hurry, book boy,” she said, “Tick tock.”

  He just nodded up and to the right. “What,” Meghan asked? Another nod. She looked up and the floor indicator still showed 40. Meghan looked back to Kellan and then to the floor again as it lazily dimmed from 40 to 39.

  She stared at him, “Jerk!”

  He smiled, “Bitch! Now c’mere
and give me a proper hug.”

  The elevator gave the deep moaning bong that they had come to expect as the floors changed with time being bent to a crawl: 29

  “So, let me get this straight,” said Meghan, feet crossed at the ankles while she leaned into one corner, “How will this not put my client at risk? You know I’m horrible at this time stuff.”

  “No problem,” began Kellan, “I’m not that great at it either, but this one is easy. However long it takes us at the Vatican, I’ll just portal us back to this exact point and Bob’s your uncle. Meghan Daugherty back with beignets.”

  “What if I get killed?” she asked calmly and Kellan looked horrified.

  “Killed? Why would you get killed? It’s the Pope were ripping off not the Cosa Nostra.”

  “I dunno, Kellan. I got killed last time, at least for a bit.”

  “Werewolves, Meghan and I was new at this. You are not gonna die.”

  She shrugged, “Maybe not, but I take my job seriously and have to make sure my client can’t be hurt by my decisions.”

  Bong 28

  Kellan shook his head, “I get that, but don’t see how she could possibly be hurt if I bring you back to this exact time.”

  “Unless I’m dead and I can’t be brought here. Or you are dead and I’m stuck in Rome with no way back to this point. Or we are both dead and—“

  Kellan held up his hands in submission, “Ok, Ok, let me think a minute.”

  Bong 27

  He glared at the floor indicator accusingly then snapped his fingers, “Wait, I think I’ve got it. What is today’s date?”

  “September 18th,” she paused a moment and added, “2017.”

  Kellan rolled his eyes, “Duh, 2017.”

  “Well, you are you,” Meghan said with a chuckle. Kellan ignored her.

  “Ok, so we know your client is alive and well on September 10th. I will just portal us to Rome so we arrive on the evening of September 10th.”

  Meghan shrugged, “And that helps us how?”

  “Wow, you weren’t kidding. You really are bad at time travel.” She just stared at him flatly and Kellan hastened on, “We leave now and go back a week, rip off the spear and I bring you back here. If things go casters up and I get snuffed, you have a whole week to get on a plane, fly back to New Orleans, wait until—“ Kellan looked at his watch, “10:42 AM, Monday September 18th, and pick up where you left off, getting beignets.”