by AE Jones
SENTINEL LOST
Mind Sweeper Series Book 5
AE JONES
Sentinel Lost
How many supernaturals does it take to screw in a lightbulb? For this particular case, way more than Kyle McKinley has backing her up.
When she stumbles upon a dark museum, missing artwork, and a dead security guard, Kyle and her team are thrust into a new mystery. One involving demons. But not your run of the mill demons—realm demons. Tougher, scarier, and banned from earth, they are escaping from the realm and wreaking havoc in Cleveland, Ohio, of all places.
Now the Feds have shown up, and Kyle has to deal with the one person she prayed she would never see again. Dalton. How can she keep the truth of their past from him without jeopardizing the case? Especially when the Key of Knowledge is part of the mystery. The same Key that almost cost Dalton his sanity and is now threatening hers. Kyle is just starting to get her life back together again with Griffin at her side. And now the Fates are forcing her to choose. But when a demon apocalypse looms on the horizon, her only choice is to embrace the Key to save the world, regardless of what it might cost her.
Barb H –
You are one of my biggest cheerleaders. Thank you for your unwavering friendship. I’m truly blessed to have you as my lucky charm.
Chapter 1
How many supernaturals does it take to screw in a lightbulb? In this particular case, way more than I had backing me up.
I walked around the outside of the Cleveland Museum of Art. Even though the pole lights in the parking lot were on, reflecting eerily in the puddles, the inside of the building was pitch dark.
And the museum was never dark.
I pulled Stanley, my .9 mm, out of his holster and clicked off the safety. I didn’t need supernatural senses to know something was hinky.
Damn. This was supposed to be a quick drive-by. Misha was so going to owe me for this one. He’d detected some sort of energy surge on his equipment. Go check it out, Kyle. We’ll be right behind you, Kyle. Ugh. Normally Misha’s energy spikes amounted to nothing.
But then, when could I rely on anything being normal?
I reached for my phone to find out how far he, Jean Luc, and Talia were from my location. Before I could call, a loud thump made me slip into the shadows and then slink along the side of the building until I reached the back.
A metal door slammed open, and a huge man darted down the stone steps, his footfalls echoing across the lagoon in front of us.
Come on. Give me something, big guy. Are you a norm or a supe? I hesitated for a second. If he was a human burglar, I had no jurisdiction here. Screw it. He was getting away, and my gut told me to take a chance.
“Freeze!” I yelled, walking into the light of the full moon and aiming Stanley at the guy.
He jerked to a halt, turned toward me and stared. His eyes glowed like lighthouse beacons. Supe it is. Now we’re talking.
“Bureau of Supernatural Relations. Hands where I can see them,” I barked while I moved closer.
He stood there glowering.
“Did you hear me? Hands up!”
He raised them slowly, and I stepped closer. He clenched his right fist, and I gasped. Even though he was several feet away, invisible fingers clamped around my wrist like a vise. I tried to yank out of his hold. He frowned at my resistance, and as he closed his left fist, I aimed and shot. He howled, clutching his left shoulder. When he pulled his hand away, blood ran down his arm. Green blood.
What. The. Hell?
He flung his right arm outward, and Stanley flew from my grip. Then he raised his hand, palm down, and I dangled in the air, my feet jerking beneath me in a futile attempt to touch the ground. His upper lip crooked up like a demented Elvis. He studied me for a moment like I was a lab experiment.
This was what I got for listening to my gut. My stupid, stupid, gut.
After a few seconds, his forehead wrinkled, his expression changing from demented to confused. What was he confused about? The best way to kill me?
“Kyle! Where are you?”
The supe jolted at Misha’s voice and flicked his fingers, catapulting me through the air, my stomach lurching as I helicoptered backward. I braced for impact, praying I didn’t land on the marble steps.
Instead of stone, I landed on a wall of water that opened up and sucked me under.
* * *
Misha leaned over the marble banister at the edge of the lagoon. “You okay, Kyle?”
I nodded, wiped my face, and coughed up some more water. “Yeah…There’s a supe running around out here. I winged him.”
“We saw something run off. Jean Luc followed him, and Talia went inside to check on the guards.” His mouth hitched up slightly on the right. “How’d you end up in the lagoon?”
I glared at him. “It’s springtime in Cleveland. Balmy weather. You know me, anything above forty-five degrees, and I’m off to the beach.”
Misha’s ice blue eyes twinkled. “Do you need me to come in there and save you?”
“I can save myself.” I stood, water cascading off my jacket and soaked jeans. I slogged to the side of the lagoon, and Misha leaned down and plucked me out like I weighed nothing. His demon strength did come in handy in a pinch. Would have been handier if he’d gotten here a few minutes earlier.
I tipped my head right and left and bumped it with the heel of my hand to drain the water from my ears, and then we walked back toward the building, my boots squelching with every step. I cringed. Good work boots were hard to come by, and I’d lost more than one pair to demon slime alone.
The air churned around us like a mini-cyclone. Seconds later, Jean Luc flashed into view in front of us.
I frowned. “All that vampire super speed, and you didn’t catch him?”
“No, ma petite. He vanished. You should not have tried to confront him alone.”
I almost argued that I could take care of myself, but water still dripped off the tip of my nose, which made the claim seem pretty ridiculous, even to me. “I was just going to detain him until you guys got here. I didn’t know he was a supernatural on steroids.”
“We need to get out of here before the cops show up,” Misha cut in. “I can’t figure out why the alarms aren’t going off.”
Talia joined us on the terrace. “We’re not going anywhere. I found two security guards. One is dead, and the other took a bump to the head and is groggy.”
“Let me see if I can help him,” Jean Luc said, and he and Talia went inside.
Misha grimaced. “I’ll call Captain Morrison to fill him in on what’s going on.” He checked his cell. “No reception. The building must be blocking it. I’ll be back in a minute,” he mumbled as he jogged away.
I stood on the terrace alone. “No problem, guys. Really. I’ll just hang out here and…drip for a while.”
Chapter 2
The Cleveland PD swarmed the scene like psychotic ants. Cop cars littered the parking lot alongside a CSI truck and a coroner’s van.
I pulled the police-issue blanket tighter around me while Misha and I waited next to the yellow tape blocking the building’s entrance, which was guarded by a huge cop. He was almost as big as Misha, so no one was getting inside the building without permission. But several seconds later, Captain Morrison walked up to the yellow tape and motioned to let us through.
Morrison was in his sixties with graying hair, but he was still fit, and his eyes were the eyes of a cop. Always watchful. Absorbing the details of people, place, and evidence at all times.
He held up the yellow tape, and we ducked underneath. Then he herded us to the coroner’s van, where Talia and Jean Luc were already waiting. Morrison nod
ded to the technician standing next to them, and the man flipped open the top of the body bag. The victim was a middle-aged man. His head sat at a weird angle, and his neck bulged on the right. I took a jerky breath and looked away for a moment. I’d managed to avoid seeing him earlier. Not so lucky now. I definitely hated this part of my job.
“Give us a minute, John.”
The technician put down his clipboard and left.
Chief Morrison looked at me. “I should have warned you we were jumping right into things. I don’t have much time before I have to let the ME start the autopsy. The victim is Carl Willis.”
“Human?” I asked Jean Luc.
“Oui.”
“The ME’s preliminary examination on scene states that Willis’ neck was broken, but he’ll do a full autopsy tonight.” Morrison turned to me. “I understand you tangled with the perp.”
“Yep.” I went on to describe what happened, leaving out the green blood, ’cause I had no idea what to make of it. Maybe a trick of the moonlight? At least that was my hope.
“So you hit him?”
“Yeah. He’ll have to lie low for a bit, but he’ll heal.”
A plainclothes officer interrupted us, and Morrison excused himself for a moment. I leaned over and whispered in Talia’s ear. Her eyes widened at my request, but she nodded and left.
Misha spoke up again once Morrison returned. “Did the thief get away with anything?”
I shrugged. “I don’t think he was carrying anything.”
Morrison chimed in. “The museum director is going through the building as we speak, but as you know, there are a lot of objects housed here. Since only the most valuable items have sensors protecting them, it might take a while to figure out if anything was stolen, or if the guard’s interruption stopped the robbery.”
“What about security tapes?” Misha asked.
“The security feed was jammed.”
“Has EMS finished checking the other security guard?” Jean Luc asked.
“David Heller,” Morrison replied. “Practically a kid. I just spent a couple minutes talking to him. After hearing Kyle’s story, I think your team needs to question him. You know better than I do what to ask in cases like this.”
He led us around the back of the building, through a maintenance entrance, and down the hall to a small break room. A young guy barely old enough to shave with a crew cut and washed-out green eyes sat at the table. He had the beginnings of a wicked black eye and gripped a mug of coffee like a lifeline. Maybe it was the only normal thing he had to hold onto right now. A cop stood behind him, leaning against the wall with his arms folded. When he caught sight of the captain, he jerked away from the wall and practically stood at attention. Suck-up.
“Smith. I want to speak with the witness,” Morrison said.
The cop nodded, but didn’t move.
“That will be all for now.”
Smith’s eyes narrowed a bit on the rest of us, but he had enough sense not to ask questions before he left the room. “Yes, sir.”
Morrison closed the door. “How are you doing, David?”
David gulped and fiddled with the mug. “I’m okay. When can I get out of here?”
“I need you to run through the story you told me one more time for my colleagues, here. Can you do that for me?”
“I keep thinking I’m going to wake up and realize it was a nightmare. A twisted Night at the Museum, you know?”
Misha propped his hip on the table. “Great movie.”
“Yeah. Carl and I joked about it all the time since we pulled the night shift.” He gulped again. “I can’t believe he’s dead.”
“Can you tell us what happened?” Misha took a seat across from David.
I was more than happy to have Mish lead the interrogation. Even though his size, blond buzz cut, and Russian accent could be intimidating, he had a way of drawing people in.
“We’d just finished our rounds and were sitting in the control room when the video feed went dead. We waited for sixty seconds, and when the camera system didn’t reboot itself, Carl went to check it out.”
“Why didn’t you go with him?”
“That’s not the protocol. Carl went to check, and he was supposed to keep me posted on his headset. If he found something wrong, he would radio me to call the cops and then the security supervisor.”
“Did he call?” Misha asked.
“Yeah. He called each time he finished checking an area of the museum. The first two calls were fine. But when he called the third time, he sounded panicky. Like he knew someone was there, but he couldn’t find them.”
Misha coaxed. “What did you do?”
“Before I could call 911…” He stopped and closed his eyes.
I stepped closer. “What happened, David?”
“Carl screamed. And…I grabbed my club and ran after him.”
“You don’t have a gun?” I asked, surprised.
He shook his head. “No. I haven’t passed the security course yet that allows me to carry. But Carl has a gun.”
“Did he shoot it?”
“He didn’t get a chance. I ran into the special exhibit room and saw Carl dangling in the air with nothing holding him up. He was fighting for air and had his hands up by his throat. His gun was lying on the floor.
“I…I didn’t know what to do, I froze for a second, and then I ran up and swung my club, and it connected with something. Something that grunted. Then Carl’s neck twisted to the side, and he fell in a heap on the ground.”
David blinked hard several times before he got to his feet. “Then the guy appeared in front of me. His eyes were glowing. And I swung at him again, but the bat flew out of my hands like he was controlling it with his mind or something.” He planted his fists on his hips, lifted his chin, and leaned toward us a bit, like he was ready to do battle if we doubted him.
“What color were his eyes when they glowed?” I asked.
David’s hands fell limp at his sides. “You believe me?”
“Yes.”
He shuddered. “They were white with no pupils.”
“And his skin?”
“He was white with brown hair.”
Sounded like the same one I’d tangled with. “Think you could help us put together a composite drawing of him?”
“Yeah.”
I glanced at Jean Luc, who’d been observing quietly. He walked out of the room.
Misha continued the interview. “What happened next, David?”
“I thought I was dead. He took a step closer, punched me in the face, and knocked me to the ground. I made a grab for Carl’s gun. I mean, if he was going to kill me, I wasn’t going to go easy, right? But the gun shot across the room, and then the lights went out.”
“Was he carrying anything?”
“He had a backpack on, and it looked like it had something heavy in it.”
I closed my eyes for a second and thought back to the supe running down the steps. Now that David had mentioned it, it was possible the supe had been carrying something on his back.
Misha smiled at him. “You did a wonderful job, David.”
David sank into his chair again. “Carl is dead. I should have gone with him.”
Misha shook his head. “From what you’ve told us, you did everything you could have done under the circumstances. You’re lucky to be alive.”
“So I’m not going crazy?” His eyes widened to the size of half dollars.
“What’s wrong?” Misha asked.
“If I’m not going crazy…then this really happened. Holy Shit.”
Which summed up my thoughts quite nicely.
Before David and I could have a mutual breakdown, Jean Luc returned with Misha’s laptop, which he set on the table.
Misha flipped it open and started typing. “David, I’m going to pull up a software program to help us create a picture of this guy. Hopefully it won’t take long. Are you still with me?”
David nodded, and I raised my eyebrows and
tipped my head toward the door, inviting Jean Luc and Morrison to leave the room with me. We convened in a cleaning supply storage space next door.
“That kid is amazing,” I said.
“He sure is,” Morrison agreed. “I should recruit him for the academy. So…what do you think?”
“His description and story certainly make sense based on what I saw. I’ll look at his composite and add anything he missed,” I replied.
“So how the hell are we going to cover this up? I don’t want David labeled as crazy.”
I cleared my throat. Even though Morrison was aware of the supernatural, and called us in to help on cases, he didn’t know I could manipulate memories. “We, ah, have the ability to make David forget about the supernatural aspects of what he saw.”
Morrison frowned. “I don’t want you drugging him.”
“No drugs.”
“And the composite? I can get one of my people in here to help with it.”
I turned to Jean Luc, and he gave me a nod, so I continued. “To be safe, I don’t think we want to share it with anyone outside this group. We’re going to make David forget he saw his face.”
“Why?”
“Because it would be safer for him if his statement said the assailant was masked,” I answered.
Morrison opened his mouth to argue, but Jean Luc cut him off. “Captain, you are allowing us to help with this case because it is a supernatural containment issue. If we release the assailant’s picture on the police wire, we may create a situation where your officers confront him without having any concept of how truly dangerous he is. We do not want anyone else to be hurt. Let us do our job.”
Morrison stared at Jean Luc for several tense seconds before saying, “Okay. You’ve got forty-five minutes tops with David, and then you have to get out of here.”
Thirty minutes later, Misha had the composite, a dead ringer for the supe who chucked me into the lagoon.
I sat across from David and reached for his hand. He flinched at the contact, then blushed. I smiled at him. “I need you to think about what happened one more time, David. Just for a moment.”
