The Sentinel's Conduit

◈ Celia ◈

I like to think that I was a good kid. Never got into trouble, always did what I was told—for the most part. Dad said, “Don’t forget to wear your cross,” and I wore it everyday.

You can imagine my disappointment when I did EVERYTHING exactly as I was told to, and yet…here I am, sitting on the floor, my wrists shackled above my head with chains bolted to the wall, a bruised cheek, and a busted lip.

God, what did I do?

It’s always the sins of your father that come back to bite you in the ass. It’s never, “Oh? You made a deal with the devil? Okay. You pay the price. Your children are free.” No, that would make too much sense.

Just let me die quickly, please.

Isn’t that some shit? I’m begging—no, praying—to go quickly.

The cold water droplets that drip from the rusty pipes on the ceiling make me flinch, sliding down the bruised flesh of my bare waist to gather on the concrete floor beneath me.

I wish that I could say that I have a little bit of fight left in me, but the truth is that even if I do, I’m tired. There’s nothing left for me to fight for. Everything that I ever wanted has been taken away from me. Everything that I prayed for, obliterated, swept away before my own eyes.

Is this how my story ends?

◈ The Sentinel’s Conduit ◈

Today is the day.

Every year, on this day, my father hosts a ball. One big party for everyone to gather and enjoy the day free of vampires and free of worry. It’s essentially an all-you-can-eat buffet with an excuse to get stupid and be escorted home by none other than the Sentinels themselves.

Yup. Those righteous, holier than thou, “I’m too good to talk to you, I’m better than you, I’m stronger than you, I’m smarter than you, I’m tougher than you, I’m better looking than you,” asshats walk around like they’ve got God on their shoulders.

Well, in their case, to be fair, they actually do have God on their shoulders.

They are the Sentinels: five men blessed by God with the power of the angels to fight the never-ending war between humans and demons.

Kind of unfair, if you ask me. Why just five? Why not ten? Why not everyone?

Also, why just men?

Personally, I find it offensive. I’d abandon my responsibilities as the Head Pastor’s daughter in a heartbeat, if it meant that I’d get to sleep all day and kill evil shit at night.

Just kidding. They scare me.

With my hands cupping my breasts, I suck my stomach in as I hold my dress in place while Veronica—my handmaid—finishes tightening my corset.

It’s the year 2124 and you’d think that corsets went out of style 50 years ago, but nope. They’re still kickin’ it. Still making me look like I have a smaller waist than I actually do.

I am a skinny legend.

I like to think that though really, I have meaty thighs and a belly roll that likes to stick out when I’m sitting down, hunched over. Although, I guess that’s a reason why I should sit up straight more often.

“All done!” Veronica exclaims as she plants her hands on either side of my shoulders and rubs them lovingly. “You look beautiful, Celia.”

She’s right.

I watch my reflection in the life-size mirror, admiring the beautiful baby blue ball gown that hugs my curves perfectly. The long v-shape of the baby blue mesh compliments my golden-brown skin, emphasizing the elegance of the radiant diamond necklace that matches my earrings and silver hairpiece. Identical to the pattern of the white lace of my off-the-shoulder sleeves, the lace of the bodice nicely transitions to the baby blue tulle that kisses the ground.

“Alright, you need to get going.”

I shoot Veronica a sideways glance as she moves to open the set of double doors for me, motioning for me to walk past her.

While I don’t appreciate being rushed, she does have a point. It’s only a couple of hours until the ball starts, and my father just absolutely loves sitting me down in that room with those people to remind me to be on my best behavior.

Like I could do anything else.

A soft sigh passes my lips as I move through the doorway and down the hall, briefly glancing at the elegant maroon wallpaper with golden swirls that match the carpet. My heels click softly beneath my feet as I walk past the staircase and to the west wing of the mansion where I shortly meet the bright, windowless conference room with the glass door.

Unsurprisingly, it’s already full.

Mostly.

It’s not the first pair of eyes that get me: my father’s. Just like mine, they’re vibrant hazel blue and unlike mine, they’re disappointed at my tardiness—which, to be frank, should’ve been expected. Instead, as my eyes meet the second pair, which just so happen to be the ones that make my heart flutter and butterflies dazzle in my stomach, I pretend to be utterly unfazed.

Elion…

In his black leather jacket, jeans, and white t-shirt, he sits tall with perfect full lips, a clean shaven beard, and a nice fade that compliments his sharp jaw. His dark brown eyes glow just as nice as his perfect dark skin.

Oh, hello, you beautiful chocolate man.

With a perky smile on my lips, I pull my shoulders back and casually strut my way to the only open seat: the one next to him.

Aww…he saved me a seat. He loves me. I know it.

As much as he pretends to be annoyed with me—although he does a really good job at pretending—I think that someday he and I could be great.

Granted, that is probably, most likely, never going to happen.

He, like the other painfully beautiful black man with curly hair sitting to the other side of me, is one of the five Sentinels. Although, they say that they’re all equally as amazing, I, personally, think that he’s the best.

And he certainly is the most handsome.

“Well,” my father mutters and clears his throat. “Now that Celia has joined us, I suppose we can get started.”

Oh, you didn’t have to wait for me…really.

“As you all know, tonight is a very important evening for those of us who’ve managed to survive yet another year,” my father says in his awfully stern tone. “Let’s take a moment to thank God for all of our blessings.”

My lips curl into a half-hearted smile as I instead take a moment to glance around the room, watching them as they bow their heads in a moment of silence.

My father was the lucky son of a well-known pastor back before this whole world went to shit.

It’s a…gross story, really.

A hundred years ago, some freaking weirdo conjured a succubus demon and they…got down and dirty. Needless to say, he unleashed a vampire into the world, and you know the crazy thing about vampires? They multiply overnight—literally.

Now, we’re living in the 22nd Century where there have been zero technological advances since 2024, most of the world is gone, and you’re lucky if you have the internet.

Anyway, my grandfather gave a lot of people hope through prayer, and he saved a lot of people too. He opened up his church as a sanctuary, and the crazy thing about churches is they are Holy grounds where no demons can go in—just like the homes of people who keep Holy Bibles in them.

That’s the thing about God: people find him when they have nowhere else to go.

Fast forward 100 years later, there’s less than a million people left and my dad, being the son of the man who helped save a lot of lives, is now the named leader—or Head Pastor—of the people and I’m his only child—or the head pastor’s bratty, spoiled daughter.

I know, I’m selfish and shallow. My father loves to remind me. But among many things, I’m also very self-aware, which is arguably my greatest quality—apart from being pretty.

Did I also mention that my confidence is unmatched?

As I sit here, watching everyone around me pray, I can’t help but steal a glance at Elion, admiring his chiseled features. I assume that he feels my gaze on him as in the next moment, he peeks at me through the small window of his hooded, inscrutable dark eyes.

Well, hello there.

He doesn’t look at me for very long though, his eyelids fluttering shut a second later. He knows I’m looking. He knows I know he knows I’m looking, but I don’t care. My eyes wrack over the slit between his prominent muscular pecs, peeking out just above the v-shape of his fitted white t-shirt, down to what I’m certain are rock-hard abs rippling with each breath he takes.

He is…godly.

Literally.

Oh, the things I’d do to you if you’d let me…

…

Or the things I’d let you do to me.