Manifest (The Darkening Trilogy) Read Online Free PDF Page B

sentiner is really just a glorified historian.  Some say journalist, but we don’t publish anything we write down.  My peers and I make up the Hyperion, the secret and sole organization in Gothica which bothers to record anything beyond finances.  And as the highest ranking sentiner under the council members, I have quite a few… employees.  At my level, the job description changes significantly and while most sentiners, the rank and file cyperas, stick to the shadows and lead very secluded lifestyles, I am somewhat of a socialite.  To be successful, my job requires that I have a large network of informants even outside the Hyperion.
    Nigel is my secretary, an official title within the Hyperion and by no means a misnomer.  He takes messages for me and filters out the crap.  He is next in line for a lieutenant position, having been with us for two-hundred and ninety-six years.  My old lieutenant has been dead so long I might not even bother to put in the paperwork. 
    Nigel is dark skinned with a mop of shiny black ringlets for hair and a honey smooth voice.  His mannerisms are humble and reflect a woeful un-appreciation for his own talents, but he’s still quick to make a joke and laugh at mine.  As a classic sentiner, he never interferes and just sits in the shadows, taking pictures and keeping up with documentation. 
    “Delano, Sabetha.  I uh, I meant to get those reports to you…” he stammers after opening the front door to his row house.
    I smile and hold up a hand to cut him off, “You’re not in trouble.”
    “Oh.  So what’s up then?”
    Sabetha laughs, catching him off guard.  Apparently she thinks it’s funny that I only talk to my subordinates when they’re in trouble.  She clears her throat and gestures for me to continue.
    I overemphasize my words to make him understand I am not joking.  “We were attacked.”
    “What?  Where?”
    “Our home.”
    Nigel’s mouth drops and he looks back and forth between Sabetha and me with little spurts of half words, a sentence failing to form amidst his disbelief.
    He recovers himself, invites us in and I give him the details. 
    “Definitely a flesh golem,” he agrees. “But I’ve never heard of one venturing out alone or disappearing like that.  Let me check the records.”  His answer for everything.
    I agree with a nod but then grab Nigel by the shoulder as he absentmindedly heads for his - well my - collection of files in the basement.  “Nigel.”
    “Hmm?” he looks at me as if I just walked in the door. “We” – I use my thumb to point between Sabetha and me – “are going to check on some other contacts.”
    “Oh, okay.”  He adjusts his thick rimmed glasses.  “I’ll go look in the records then.”
    “Good man.”
    Sabetha giggles and Nigel, aloof to her amusement, smiles before heading downstairs.  We show ourselves out.
    The rest of our first night involves driving all over Central Gothica and letting an assortment of grungy looking individuals know the finer points.  Some disregard us – they’re young and living in their own horror stories.  Frankly, they don’t give a shit about me or my problems.  But the ones older than an ilk’s lifespan understand why this is so important.  People don’t mess with sentiners unless provoked, and our laws try to keep us from provoking people.  For someone to attack me, the Captain of Central Gothica, is a case worthy of the network.  We’ll see what they turn up.
     
    “ N ot a very pretty bunch, are you?” Sabetha notes as we head back home.
    Defensively, I turn my whole body to look at her with a raised eyebrow.
    “You, Cassandra, maybe even Corbin with in a new wardrobe… but the prettiness stops there, my brother.  The rest of you are bums with cameras and note pads; AV club rejects .”
    “Uh, Miquel?”  I’m grasping.  “He’s good looking, in a brooding, regal kind of way.”
    “Do you really wanna go there?”
    I recall their brief affair.