The Sentinel's Conduit

| 8 | The Hunt Begins

◈ Elion ◈

The laughter and chatter of the ball grows distant as I make my way through the mansion, the once vibrant atmosphere now a mere echo in the back of my mind. I've been patrolling the premises, my sense on high alert.

Something's off, a disturbance in the air that I can't quite put my finger on. With each step, the sense of unease in my gut intensifies, a nagging feeling that something is amiss.

Pastor George's absence is like a beacon, a glaring anomaly in the otherwise predictable flow of the evening. It's unlike him to disappear in the middle of such an important event, especially not without informing anyone.

As I turn the corner, my senses heighten, the hairs on the back of my neck standing on end. The air feels charged, heavy with an unseen tension. My instincts are screaming, a prickling sensation urging me to investigate.

I quicken my pace, heading through the backdoors of the mansion, my heartbeat thundering in my ears. Then, I see it: a body lying on the ground, unmoving, barely illuminated by the moonlight casting shadows over the scene.

My body reacts before my mind can fully process the sight, propelling me forward with a surge of adrenaline. The closer I get, the more details come to focus. The ashen concrete, now stained crimson red. The glint of a silver cross, reflecting the pale light. And the unmistakable coppery scent of blood, thick and cloying in the air.

Pastor George.

I drop to one knee beside him, my heart hammering against my ribcage. His face is lifeless, his eyes staring blankly at the sky. The once crisp white of his shirt is now a canvas of red, the fabric clinging to his chest in a macabre display.

Instinctively, I reach out, my fingers hovering over his eyes. It's a ritual I've performed countless times, a burden I bear as both a blessing and a curse. With a deep breath, I let my hand make contact, my skin brushing against the rapidly cooling flesh.

The world around me dissolves, replaced by a kaleidoscope of images and sensations. I see through George's eyes, feel the rush of adrenaline as he moves through the shadows. The crunch of gravel beneath his feet, the whisper of the wind in the trees.

And then, the sudden blur of movement, the glint of metal in the darkness.

Celia's scream pierces the night, laced with terror. The blow comes swiftly, a blinding pain that explodes behind George's eyes. I feel the impact, the sickening crunch of bone, the warmth of blood trickling down the back of his head.

Finally, emptiness.

I pull back, my breath coming in short, ragged gasps. The memory fades, leaving me once again in the aftermath of a tragedy.

They've made their move.

I scan the area, searching for any sign of Celia, but deep down, I know the truth. Her absence speaks volumes, a testament to the ruthless efficiency of our enemies.

They took her.

The sound of footsteps draws my attention, and I look up to see Xavier approaching, his expression grim. He comes to a stop a few feet away, his gaze flickering to George's body before meeting mine.

"The Head Pastor?" he asks, his voice low and measured.

I nod, my jaw clenching. "The Crimson Covenant. A Vampire Lord is near."

Xavier's features harden, disgust etched into every line. "That would explain the disappearances. He signed his own death warrant, didn't he?"

I don't need to answer. We both know it's not the first time a Pastor has made a deal with a Vampire Lord, trading the lives of their flock for their own selfish gain.

There are seven Vampire Lords, each ruling over their own territory, answering only to the Vampire King himself. We've been hunting them down, slowly but surely, and so far, we've managed to take out three. It's a daunting task, but one we've dedicated our lives to. Only a Lord or the King can create new vampires, and if we can eliminate them, we'll be one step closer to fulfilling our calling.

Xavier glances around, his brow furrowing. "Where's the daughter?"

I rise to my feet, gently lifting George's body, the weight of his transgressions bearing down on my shoulders. "They took her," I reply, my voice steady despite the anger simmering beneath the surface.

Our eyes meet, a silent understanding passing between us. We have to find Celia, not just for her sake, but for the sake of our mission. With George's death, we can track the Vampire Lord responsible by following his bloodline—and that bloodline now runs through Celia, who's undoubtedly in the vampire's clutches.

I carry George's body inside over my shoulder, the metallic scent of blood clinging to my skin. The other Pastors are gathered, their faces a mix of confusion and concern. As I lay George's body on the floor, a hush falls over the room, a wave of shock and grief passing through them at the sight of their fallen leader.

I straighten, my gaze sweeping over the assembled men. "My condolences," I say, my voice steady and clear, cutting through the shocked silence.

As I survey the room, my sight narrows on Pastor John, and a flicker of suspicion sparks within me. He's the only one who doesn't seem surprised by George's fate, and I know, with a certainty that settles deep in my bones, that he was aware of the deal George made.

And the price has been paid. Let this be a lesson.

"Keep the citizens here until we return. No one steps foot outside the barrier. Understood?" My voice is a command, leaving no room for argument.

The Pastors nod, their faces pale, their eyes wide with fear.

We have work to do.

I make my way past them, towards the front steps, Xavier close behind. The night air is cool against my skin, a stark contrast to the stifling atmosphere inside. As we emerge, I see Ken, Esteban, and Sebastian approaching, their faces set with determination.

Around us, the guests continue to mingle. I can feel their eyes on us, curious glances and whispered speculations. They don't know the truth yet, the horror that's unfolded beneath their very noses.

And they won't, not until we've finished what we've started.

I address my fellow Sentinels, my voice low but firm. "Esteban, Sebastian, stay behind. Keep the citizens safe, no one leaves the barrier."

They nod, their expressions somber, the weight of their duty etched into every line of their faces.

I turn to Xavier and Ken, my hand resting on the stock of my gun. "We have a demon to hunt."

With that, we set out into the night, the moon casting an ethereal glow over the streets.

We're coming for you, Celia. Hold on.