Chasing Fate (Sentinel & Guide)

Chapter 8

 {TRIGGER WARNING FOR VIOLENCE, skip the BOLD.}

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Jack nearly dropped to his knees at the sound of a high pitched screeching. Someone had set off a supersonic deterrent. The accompanying noise was not one that he'd expected. The distressed yelping of a dog and a woman's yell cut through the vibrations like a call. The guide!

He took off through the trees, not quite sure what he'd find when he got there. His ears strained to pick out the noise of her talking over the sound of the sonic screech and yelping dog.

"Turn that stupid thing off!" her voice was closer now, just a few hundred yards to his north. He picked up the pace, careful not to slip on the wet snow.

He'd nearly reached the crest of a small slope when he heard the dog yelping and rushing towards his left. Fully expecting a fight, he readied himself for a tackle but was instead greeted with a gentle headbutt under his hand. The dog yelped and paced, sounding far too distressed for an animal of its size. It leaned up and gripped his jacket arm, pulling it desperately, whining and trying to drag him towards what sounded like a scuffle.

The golden hue of the dog's collar flashed in the moonlight and he caught sight of the same swirly black hair that had captivated him before. The dog carried the faint scent of lavender on the tufts of his fur, the same smell that he'd caught on the plane.

It was her. This was her dog and her property.

Her property that was three miles out of the excursion zone, where no good sentinel had any right to be.

This was big trouble.

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The key to defeating hard headed sentinels was playing up her guide capabilities. Sure, she was tall and a bit heftier than was fashionable, but she couldn't take down an alpha sentinel with two fists and gumption. She'd need to use her gifts.

The first of which was forced empathy. Guides could not only feel the emotions of others but manipulate them to their will. Weaker guides couldn't do it, and most that could needed some form of contact for it to work. Fate was no normal guide.

"Are you going to come quietly?" the sentinel crouched down with her lantern still in hand.

"W-Who are you?" she forced a waver into her voice, summoning tears and hiccuping breaths, "W-What do you want with me? I'm not on an excursion! I'm in mourning."

She broke into very convincing sobs. Fate hated crying. It would leave her face puffy and raw and got nothing done under usual circumstances. Still, she knew her plan was working when she heard the lantern drop and the sentinel knelt in the snow to comfort her, wrapping his arms around her shoulders.

"Oh darling," Breton wasn't one for waterworks usually, but he had given her quite a scare and made her dog run off, "There's no need to cry. I'll take great care of y-"

His platitude was cut off by an elbow to the jaw. Only his reflexes allowed him to move with the hit, avoiding more than just a stinging hit from the padding of her parka. Before he could tighten his grip on her, she'd slammed her palm into his chin, following through with a swipe of the lantern that she'd picked up when he was busy holding her close.

He was a well-trained fighter. None of her strikes hit, but she'd knocked him off balance. A well-aimed snow boot to the chest had him landing on his butt. He felt a liquid warmth on his lip. Blood. By the time he'd gathered his wits she'd slid down a short outcrop and taken off into the woods, her lantern bobbing into the dark.

Standing up, Breton brushed his pants off and peered after her. Now this was a chase.

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Skidding down the hillside was not the smartest move but it was efficient. That sentinel took her hits like they were nothing. She'd need to get to a safe spot and radio in Hunter and possibly the police, but with the weather, she wasn't sure how long it would take, even if she lit the flares now.

There was no question of whether he'd be able to track her. She had no idea what he'd used to get this far, but it was apparent he wasn't the giving-up-gracefully sort of sentinel. There was no way in hell she was going to lead him to her house. She took off towards the dried out creek bed. It would probably be knee deep in leaves and snow but it would slow him down if he chased after without snow boots to keep him aloft.

She'd barely made it a few steps before she came crashing down. The sentinel had been smart, following along the upper path and simply tackling her from higher ground. She tried to twist away but his grip was strong. With a deft twist, he sat on her legs, immobilizing her She could kick like a horse and he'd prefer to not be on the business end of that snowshoe again. He did not need to hold her hands as he dodged each punch with practiced ease.

"You should stop now before you get tired, Lafayette," the sentinel peered down at her, his face illuminated by the lamp that rolled away under the bush. He could have been handsome if he weren't in the business of forcing a bond.

"I don't know you!" Fate screamed, aiming another punch out of sheer frustration.

He caught it easily, prying open her fingers and leaning to kiss her glove, "Ah, forgive me. Of course, you should know the name of your new sentinel. I'm Breton."

She tried to jerk her hand back but to no avail, "You're not my sentinel. You're not my anything. I reject you and I reject whatever sorry excuse for a bond that you think-"

Quicker than a whip Breton's hand gripped her neck, pressing down to block her airway. His eyes flared angrily, "That's quite enough."

His hand didn't budge as she gripped futilely at his wrist, thrashing as she fought to breathe. He's expected a bit of a chase, but disrespect was out of the question. She would bond with him, and if he had to do it on the cold forest floor, then so be it.

Common sentinel guidelines swore that a sentinel could never hurt his intended guide. As far as Breton was concerned, this was absolutely true. He'd done this exact thing many times over to acquire a particularly recalcitrant target for questioning. There wouldn't be any permanent harm.  She'd eventually black out and he'd haul her back to her Earthship, call in to keep the coordinators off his tail and go about his business. Sure, she'd be cranky and bruised in the morning but he'd make it up to her.

He was envisioning exactly how he'd get into her good graces when he was bodily hauled back by his collar and thrown into a tree. The sapling creaked under his weight but held firm. Shaking his head he looked up only to see the enraged face of his only real competition. Jack Hammond.