Chasing Fate (Sentinel & Guide)

Prologue

~1 Year Ago~

The beeping of an alarm was not a comforting sound to most, but for one young man it was the sound of home. The wheel of the cab had slipped off of the road, activating a little pressure pad. About a mile away a basement security room had set off a beep, interrupting a YouTube video compilation, and whoever was on watch had probably roused his father.

The young man was up and out of the cab in seconds. It had been months since he'd seen his father, years since he'd actually been home. A polite cough interrupted his excitement. He'd almost forgotten to pay. With an apologetic smile, he slipped his hand into his light jacket to pull out a wad of crisp bills, a good thousand over the fare.

"It's too cold to be away from home," the young man said as he hefted his bag over his shoulder, "That oughta' cover the tip too."

The cabbie smiled at him warily as he pocketed his hefty tip. It was unusual to drop someone off halfway to his intended fare on a strip of pitch black highway with nothing around for miles. If his supervisor was in an auditing mood he'd have a hell of a time explaining that one. Liability and all that. Then again, he wasn't much in the habit of carting around celebrities.

The statuesque figure who was confidently striding off into the woods was none other than Jack Hammond, internationally famous ring fighter, activist, and as of Guideline Magazine's latest issue: the world's most eligible Sentinel.

His daughter would never believe him! At her age, she had her head full of big dreams, including being swept off her feet by a big strapping sentinel... or one of those singing boys she liked so much. Ahmed placed the cash in his wallet before securing the magazine copy in his glovebox. The pull out poster had been signed by Jack after he'd laughingly described the tiny shrine she'd built in his honor.

As a null, he had no real way to tell the difference between a good-looking white boy and society's precious one-percent of super sensitive humans. Of course, after twenty years driving people from all walks of life he'd met quite a few. Most of them had a certain air about them. They were always more aware of their surroundings, on edge but not skittish. Their hypervigilance had saved him more than once on the road. They could hear a police chase from blocks away, or notice a strange tick in his smooth running engine. One had even heard his chest congesting with a cough on a windy day.

From what he remembered from biology class, these superhumans could see further, hear clearer, and smell better than the combined talents of ten men. The strongest of them could taste trace elements in the cleanest water and discern fingerprints with a handshake if they so desired. Wandering the woods at night was no more an issue for them than a bat.

This one had to be quite strong. He'd apparently asked for a sentinel-friendly cab at the airport. It was a bit more expensive to ride in a cab that was cleaned and maintained with natural products. Organic soaps and oil for the leather seats, a low pile carpet, and meticulously cleaned windows all reduced the potential for a zone. The work it took to keep his cab sentinel-friendly was tough but worth it when he got the subsidiary bonus from the National Sentinel Fund at the end of every month.

Still, it was quite rare for a sentinel to be so sensitive that they had to actively take this precaution. Usually, the only ones who needed that safety were those with an SHD or Sensory-Hyperactivity-Disorder. It would be quite strange for a celebrity under constantly flashing lights and screaming crowds to be affected unless...

Well, that wasn't any of his business. He shouldn't speculate or he'd be no better than those grocery gossip rags. The less he worried about another stranger, the better.

As he pulled back onto the highway he thought he caught glimpse of the tall man already far in the distance. He relaxed minutely as he pulled back onto the open road. Somewhere in his brain, deep down where he couldn't acknowledge his primal thoughts he knew exactly what he'd spent a car ride driving.

That kind young man was a prime alpha.

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Jack slipped silently through the underbrush as he cast out a sensory net over the nearby surroundings. He could hear the light humming of the cab engine as it sped off down the highway, the soft breathing of rabbits asleep in their dens. He adjusted his eyes to see the slight trail that he'd worn over years of sneaking out on escapades with his clan mates. Even without his special talents, he'd know this path by heart. From there it was a leisurely ten-minute walk to the manor house, without the need to wake everyone up by coming up the front drive at three in the morning.

He hoisted his duffel bag and continued walking, unsurprised to find his clan mate Erwin waiting just outside the garden gates to let him in.

"It's been a while 'cuz." he said, reaching to take the duffle and push ahead towards the verandah, "You're lucky it's a school night or your old man would have dragged the whole clan up here to say hi."

Jack laughed, "I don't doubt it. But I'll be here for a month at least. It'll be good to catch up"

Erwin nodded, clapping him on the back, "Good, then you'll definitely have time to meet my guide."

Jack's jaw dropped and he stopped dead still right on the threshold of the French doors, "You?! Playboy Erwin, who was 'never-ever-ever' going to get a guide has finally been caught? I'll have to meet them and thank them on behalf of the country."

He only barely dodged Erwin's embarrassed slap. He could feel the heat from his clan mate's cheeks, revealing just how hard the blush was burning under his deep cinnamon skin.

"Hush! I don't have time for your mess. Go see your dad before he sends Miss Nerida after you," Erwin finished with another friendly swat.

Jack ducked again and ran inside, cutting through the library to the grand staircase. He only paused at his room-the secondary suite- to toss his duffel onto his bed before crossing the shortcut across the terrace from his study to his father's.

The comforting scent of pipe smoke greeted him as he entered without knocking.

"It took you long enough," Marko Hammond said with a smile, standing to hug his son. He tilted his head to the doorway, lowering his voice.

"Your mother's asleep, she'll be cross that you got in so late."

"I had to get a red-eye flight. You know I wasn't due back for another three days."

Jack moved over to sit on one of the plush chairs facing his father's desk. It was immaculate as usual, with his laptop aligned next to the few paper copies of work he needed to file.

Jack raised his eyebrows as he looked over the pages from his seat, his sharp eyes able to pick out the fine print as though it were bold. He looked up at his father, noticing that familiar face had taken on the same look that it always did when a serious conversation was coming.

"Dad...Why did you call me home?"

Marko Hammond in his prime was the strongest sentinel for hundreds of miles, a natural born leader and a protector of the community. Jack was his spitting image, tall and broad-shouldered with a chin that could cut glass. His mother often joked that she'd only helped incubate a clone.

Looking at his father was like looking into the future. At 65, Marko was feeling the strain of his nearly 45 years of unending service. His hair was no longer streaked with a distinguished grey, but fully white. His laugh lines had creased into folds and Jack could hear the grind of his finger joints as he tapped his pipe into the ashtray. This was not the condition of a prime alpha. He couldn't protect the city like this for much longer. Jack was no guide, but he felt the words before he heard them.

"Son. I think it's time I stepped down."

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