Hidden Beauty: The Sentinel Saga, #5

By Rockin' K Publishers LLC

Perusing some of the most major events in history, the Sentinel finds a pattern: nearly all of them have unknowns that should be known. Digging deeper, he finds that seemingly insignificant people just drop off the face of the Earth at exactly the right times to allow these events to occur.

This twisted path leads the Sentinel to discover a conspiracy unlike any other. It's global. It's deep. It has the potential to destroy society as we know it.

It has the potential to destroy the Sentinel.

Will he survive it?

Will we?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Rockin' K Publishers LLC
• Release date: Dec 12, 2023
• ISBN: 9781959282211

Book preview

Prologue

At last , thought the assassin as she set down the phone on her nightstand and paced to the hidden closet in her bedroom wall. At last, an explicit kill order.

She pushed against a blank section of what looked like drywall, and with a click it swung out toward her. The hidden closet was her weapons room. Long, narrow, and lined with all of her favorite firearms, ammunition, blades, disguises, garrotes, and archaic weapons, this hidden room brought her a thrill, a flood of good and bad memories, and a strange sense of peace.

This was her place of power. These weapons were just instruments, extensions of her body and will. With these, she controlled the most primal forces known to humanity: life and death.

She stopped in the middle of the knives and picked a slender, curved knife from the wall. She thought about using it on her target as she ran her thumb along its edge. It was a very sharp, agile, capable knife. It could part his throat very easily...but he was too fast for a blade.

She put the knife back on the wall and walked a little farther down the corridor of weaponry. She knew exactly what she’d use when the time was right. She picked a very special weapon from the wall. The one she’d used to dispatch her own father so many years ago. A very simple and powerful weapon, elegant in its utilitarian simplicity.

It was a 1911-style pistol, chambered in .45 ACP, with an upswept beavertail grip safety and seven-plus-one capacity. Skeletonized trigger and hammer. Refinished by her in a desert sand color. Simple three-dot iron sights. Serrations in the back of the slide only, like the originals. Textured grips.

Her grandfather’s old service pistol, updated to modern standards and lovingly maintained.

This pistol would fire the round that killed the Sentinel.

She knew it.

She found a suppressor that fit the barrel and screwed it on, then filled three magazines.

He would never see it coming.

She smiled.

Chapter 1

I sat on my front porch, watching my family and friends building two more cabins: one for our newest resident, Victoria, and one that would serve as a hospital. It was cool to watch, but I felt left out. I still couldn’t drink the water here because of the nuke in my head. The water had healing properties, and I had brain damage that prevented me from remembering most of my past before I died.

Yes, I had died a few years ago. I was offered my life, residence in Eden (not the garden), and the role of the Sentinel. I accepted. Unfortunately, my duties had gotten me severely wounded so many times that the healing waters had repaired a lot of the brain damage. I could almost pierce the wall and access the memories that made up the nuke.

Sam, the old man (and a personified attribute of God), called it a nuke because – apparently – it was a flood of really bad stuff that would make me beyond angry. I had a problem with rage that I worked constantly to moderate, and the nuke would make me rage out. Given the power I wielded, that was a very, very bad thing.

So, I couldn’t drink the water. That meant I couldn’t get hurt. I felt like the most useless construction foreman in history.

On the other hand, though, I got to spend a lot of time in my library. Doing research in a library stocked with the true history of humanity and spirituality was fascinating, and way more fun than you’d think. Or maybe I’m just a nerd who can fight. You don’t know.

Don’t judge me.

Victoria came walking up to me with a big smile on her face. She was Danish, with dark blonde hair and bright blue eyes. She sat next to me on the porch, smiling, and said, I’m so excited! My cabin is almost complete, and everyone here is so nice! I can start building my furniture soon!

You’re a carpenter? I asked her.

She nodded happily. Ja, she said. My father taught me. I grew up poor, and he insisted I know how to make things for myself. I can also build – and fix – a boat.

Wow, I said. That’s very cool. I’ve always wanted to make my own boat.

Victoria laid her hand on my arm and said, Maybe I will teach you this winter, when the trees are right for a proper harvest. Then she seemed to notice that she was touching my arm. She blushed and removed her hand from my arm. I’m sorry.

I didn’t know how to respond, so I just nodded. She stood up and walked back down to rejoin the building efforts. I knew that was an awkward way to react to that situation when I thought about it, but I just didn’t...I couldn’t….

Angeline suddenly looked at me from where she was by the cabin under construction. She vanished from where she was and appeared right in front of me. She knelt down so her eyes were level with mine and locked gazes with me. Breathe, she said slowly but firmly. Just breathe. Relax.

I had to take several deep breaths before I got myself under control, in through the nose and out through the mouth. My heart, which had been racing and pounding, slowed down to its normal rhythm. I felt the gentle breeze that crossed my face as icy, and realized I was covered in a thin sheen of sweat. Angeline handed me a rag, and I wiped my face dry.

What was that all about?

Very good, said Angeline, smiling. You’re learning to control those attacks. That was a fairly bad one. What happened?

I told her.

Don’t worry, she said. Just chill. I’ll have a talk with her.

She began to stand but I grabbed her wrist. Please don’t make her think she did anything wrong, I pleaded. This was all my fault. Just a broken-brain thing.

Angeline smiled and said, Don’t worry, Jimmy. I’ll help her understand. Maybe you should go for a walk with Ryan. Clear your head. Put your heart at ease.

It was stated as a gentle suggestion, but I could recognize an order when I heard one. I released her wrist as Ryan came padding up, his face arranged into a polite what’s going on? expression. Angeline walked away, and I hugged Ryan.

Then we went for a walk.

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We returned in time for dinner, since Ryan was always hungry and I hadn’t eaten very much. I was much more calm and even smiling after playing water fetch with my 175-pound timber wolf goofus. He could make me laugh, though. I knew he was doing it on purpose, playing the goof just for my benefit, and I loved him even more for that.

I should have named him Goofus.

My big fuzzy therapist and I walked into the cabin to the smell of roast venison, potatoes, carrots, salad, and a fresh fruit pie. My stomach grumbled. So did Ryan’s, which made me laugh. He gave me puppy eyes, so I gave him a nod. He all but ran across the wood floor to his big bowl of what we called ‘wolfie chow:’ a gross mixture of innards and organ meat harvested along with the venison.

I went to my room and bathroom, where I showered and redressed in clean clothes. Ready for dinner, I walked out to the dining area to see Sam, Marvin, and Stephen setting food dishes on the table. The whole cabin smelled delicious.

I clapped my hands together and rubbed them like an eager child about to snag some dessert. Smells fantastic, guys! I exclaimed with a big smile. My empty stomach rumbled its agreement loudly. Everyone laughed.

Stephen set down a bottled beverage for me, and I frowned. The stuff was full of vitamins and minerals and electrolytes, but it wasn’t the refreshing, slightly sweet water I had hoped for. I really missed drinking the healing waters of Eden. I never thought I would miss drinking water...but I did.

We all sat down to a wonderful dinner, and I said the blessing. Every bite of food was just perfect. I wondered about something, and had to ask. Sam?

Yes? he returned, looking up from his own plate with an open expression.

I’m just curious, I said. "You seem to really enjoy cooking, and you’re really good at it. What’s the deal?" Marvin, chewing on a piece of venison roast, nodded his curiosity as well.

Sam smiled warmly. Well, thank you for the compliment, he said. Sharing a meal – known colloquially as ‘breaking bread’ – is an important and time-honored tradition. Those who share a meal are made closer. Trust, and even love, can be formed and strengthened over meals. Meals are some of my favorite times of the day. Also...I love good food.

I laughed and said, Good answer! Sam nodded and resumed his meal. The rest of us followed suit.

An hour later, when everything was clean, we relaxed in the living area. Out of the blue, Sam asked me, What did you find in the library? Care to share with us?

It was almost like he knew. He probably did, given his true nature. Weirdness, I said. I didn’t mean for my tone to be so ominous, but the information I had uncovered weighed on me.

Weirdness? asked Marvin. Like what? He looked over his left shoulder at his golden eagle, Jäger, who had his head cocked to one side. Stephen leaned forward with a concerned expression and put his elbows on his knees. Ryan, my huge lapwolf, raised his head and looked at me.

Wow. Talk about captivating a crowd’s attention. Apparently, an ominous tone did the trick. Weirdness, I repeated, dropping the tone. I’ve been trying to track down the assassin, but...there’s almost nothing. Every lead just leads to a – pardon the expression – dead end.

An awkward pause hung in the room until I said, It’s like she’s a ghost.

Laughter erupted from everyone but me. I’m serious! I said.

Sam stopped laughing and held up one hand in front of himself, palm out, signaling me to calm down. That’s not as strange as you think, he said. There’s a reason you haven’t found her in the pages of history. She’s not there.

What?

The only times she’s been in the past have been times she was hunting you, Sam answered. You say she appears to be a fit young woman. She probably is. She’s certainly not some imaginary monster like an immortal vampire. She’s not the interferer. She’s simply taken up the mantle of the assassin sometime during her life. Probably in the past twenty or thirty years.

Really? How could I have missed that?

Really, said Stephen. "Assassins tend to have pretty short lifespans. They only kill once, or a few times, before they’re caught and...well, dealt with. You’re looking at a series of assassins who disappear because they die."

I thought about that for a few moments. I can accept that, I said. I still didn’t read about many assassins.

The assassins you’re looking for are a very slippery bunch, Sam said. Their work is always more apparent than them.

So there’s no way to prepare for her? I asked, crestfallen. I’m just a walking target?

Sam looked at me with a very strained expression for several long moments. Not necessarily, he finally said. Assassins are all individuals, of course, and they’re very adaptive...but maybe you could glean some insights by observing their tactics. Unfortunately, we still don’t know how she’s tracking you.

That had been a quandary for the entire time this assassin had been taking shots at me. I’ll just have to watch my back very carefully, I said. I have a gut feeling that if we knew how she tracks me, we’d know who she is.

What a catch-22, Marvin said.

Yeah, I sighed. The same thing is true about knowing the identity of her target.

Just remember that you are especially vulnerable, Sam said. "I want to know where and when you’re going, and I want