Page 7 of The Missing Sentinel
Long hours of scouting around the homes of the rulers of the Consilium Veneficus had passed, and Ducarius was nearly ready to head home and get some rest. But as he did every trip, he silently teleported to the remote estate once owned by Drexley’s deceased necromancer. According to Chander, Adney Blackwell had lost his only son and died soon after. His home had been left to his housekeeper.
Despite the fact that the sentinels had contacted the elven housekeeper multiple times, she refused to discuss anything with them. Since it would be dishonorable to harass the woman, Alaric had taken over the task of corresponding with her. Every year he penned a letter that went unanswered. Thankfully, the sentinels could traipse across the woman’s land without her knowledge.
Invisible, Ducarius trudged silently around the grounds and wondered for the millionth time how a sentinel could disappear without a trace. The magic of the compound should have reassigned Drexley, but it hadn’t. Ducarius refused to believe anyone had killed Drexley.
The lone thing on the planet that could harm sentinels irreversibly was their daggers. And because of Albrecht and Arvandus’s tragic past, Alaric had been taught a spell whichmarked each blade with the name of the sentinel who owned it. More importantly, it made it impossible for anyone to harm a sentinel with their own weapons.
Frustrated that he’d spent hours gaining no information about whatever nefarious plans the Consilium Veneficus had, Ducarius nearly missed the ripple in the air. It was an odd wave in the sky that immediately reminded Ducarius of the magical anomalies found in the former compound that had boxed in skeletons like himself. He stood still and waited patiently to see if he was somehow hallucinating or if he’d indeed noticed a glitch in his surroundings.
For countless minutes, Ducarius remained motionless. But his fists clenched in triumph, and he held in a cheer when he noticed the irregularity again.Perhaps my entire evening wasn’t wasted after all, Ducarius thought as he inched closer to the abnormality. It took far too long for the stupid variance to repeat itself.
But Ducarius was ready for it. He kept his hand lifted and slipped his fingers through the subtle wave that probably would’ve gone unnoticed by anyone not familiar with the way magic distorted if left too long without the original spell being repaired. Thankfully, Ducarius had a bit of experience with the like, and he grinned like a fool as his fingertips disappeared through the anomaly.
Ducarius tugged his phone out of his pocket to record what he’d witnessed so he would be able to bring it to Alaric and Chander’s attention as soon as he arrived home. In his haste, Ducarius dropped the damn device and cursed his unusual awkwardness. He bent forward to grab the phone and, to his horror, tumbled forward.
The world spun, and Ducarius barely bit back a shriek as the ground disappeared beneath his feet. Suddenly dizzy, he squeezed his eyes shut. He was being teleported somewhere.That much was clear. But where? Thankful to be invisible, Ducarius hit the ground. His teeth clacked together, and he braced himself to stand.
Several things hit Ducarius at once. But the most irritating was the tug on his mind. It was a spell he recognized. At the now-destroyed compound, his memory had been drained without his permission. This version wasn’t as strong, but Ducarius immediately resented the manipulation.
Setting aside his anger, Ducarius noted he was in a small realm. There were others present. A necromancer. Ducarius’s lips curled into a smile as he recognized one of his own—there was a sentinel in the realm too. Had he found Drexley? There were a few other muted presences. Temporary resurrections done without bringing forth the personalities of the people in question. Their tiny life force reminded Ducarius of the reproductions Chander often did to add to the atmosphere of their annual All Hallow’s Eve party.
Desperate to know more about where he was, Ducarius stood and took in his surroundings. The realm was tiny. A large castle was set in the middle, and the gardens were eroding. Whoever had created it was incapable of keeping up with their spells or no longer cared to continue the practice.
Fully prepared to investigate the structure and adjacent land before introducing himself to the people inside, Ducarius wasn’t prepared for the castle door opening. His blood surged south, and his dick filled in his first erection. A sense of euphoria danced through him. Instead of a single scent, Ducarius was bombarded by everything he liked, and it coalesced into an indescribable but beautiful smell he immediately loved.
His mate was feet away. The sentinel was over six feet, like nearly all their people. But instead of a gray uniform, the man wore a long velvet robe that had been considered fashionable by sorcerers centuries ago. His blond hair was shortand combed away from his face. Unlike any other sentinel Ducarius had met, his other half had a goatee and mustache.
Ducarius thought the contrast was wonderful and was suddenly eager to learn everything that made this man special. With his heart racing and his palms sweaty, Ducarius dropped his invisibility, moved forward, and noted the light brown eyes rounded in shock.
“Are you Drexley?” Ducarius asked as he closed the short distance between them.
The surprise disappeared and was immediately replaced with suspicion. “How do you know my name?”
“Every sentinel knows your name. You have been missing for five hundred years.”
“What are you doing to make me feel so odd?”
“I do not understand.”
Drexley’s cheeks pinkened, and he broke eye contact. “It would be disrespectful to mention such things to a stranger.”
“Oh, your erection. It is because we are mates.”
“Sentinels do not have mates.”
“Fate appears to disagree with whoever gave you that information,” Ducarius stated briskly. The last thing he wanted was to hear that Drexley was not his gift from Fate.
“There was no evidence to suggest sentinels could be mated.”
“If you have been here for the last five centuries, you would have missed much about the Sentinel Brotherhood. Most of our people are mated, including our leader.”
“The sentinels do not have a leader. We are meant to be governed by the Order of Necromancia.”
Ducarius’s mouth twisted in an immediate snarl, and he was thankful he remained under the hood of his cloak so his expression wouldn’t upset his mate. “Tell me where I am.”
“That is none of your affair, and you should leave immediately. You are not welcome here.”
Before Ducarius could find a reply to that, an elderly man appeared in the doorway.
