Copyright © 2018 by K.B. Wheelock
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Contents
A Short Author’s Note
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
About the Author
Sanctify
To my family and friends, who have inspired me.
To the authors who encouraged me
This is for you
A Short Author’s Note
I enjoy researching and finding obscure facts. I made the decision for my characters to be fairly unknown mythological and paranormal characters.
The Muahaha (Mahaha) are from a Inuit Myth.
Ring Snakes (Hoop snakes) are a mythological snake found in the United States, Canada and Australia
The Lost City of Moberley was a hoax that took place in 1885.
Missouri is known for its many cave systems due to the limestone that has eroded.
Chapter One
Standing in the shadows, he watched her walk toward him. Shoulders hunched against the cool breeze that swirled the leaves, chin almost touching the books that hugged her chest. She was smaller than he expected, thin but nicely rounded. Her bent head blocked him from seeing her eyes, but the curls peeking out from under the cloche were a rich auburn. He longed to touch it to see if it felt as silky as it looked. NO! I am here to observe and protect her if need be. I cannot have these thoughts. He slunk further into the shadows, ensuring that she couldn’t see him or know that he was there.
* * *
The red and brown leaves blurred to the color of mud as her eyes filled with tears. Not again. I cannot lose this. It is all I wanted. Being able to study the dusty old vellum, touch the rich threads weaving stories into tapestries, had been a dream come true when she had been offered a job at the TOMBS (Treasury of Magical Bestial Studies ). Not high enough on the totem pole to merit an office on the first floor, she would be forced to climb another set of stairs to reach the second. She began to walk up the once white stairs that led to her office. The quiet of the TOMBS soothed her. Here she could be herself, immerse herself in the history of others, that were stronger, prettier . . . better. She had made it about three steps up when the voice shattered the silence.
“Rose!” screeched Anabelle. Rose froze–just once she wanted to be able to get to her office without a confrontation. After a quick swipe across her face to remove any traces of her tears, she plastered a smile on her face and turned to face the stunning blonde. She was everything Rose was not: tall, lithe, and perfectly put together. Her wardrobe was off a runway, and, when she chose, her voice became a cultured purr. “Where have you been? The files will not put themselves away. There are emails from professors requesting books . . .” Yes, that is what her job entailed. Running errands, filing, and searching out documents for others left few quiet minutes for her own personal research. Her spare time was spent slowly sifting through records to discover the secrets of past lives.
Eyes downcast, she stuttered “S-s-sorry, Anabelle. I was at a meeting.” Feeling the need to get away from the “Belle”, she turned quickly, and her foot slipped. The books in her arms fell, sliding to rest at Anabelle’s feet.
“Just get it done,” Anabelle sneered. With a graceful pivot on one heel, she stalked into her first-floor office.
Quietly, she picked up the books and upon standing, saw a shadow move along the wall. Cheeks burning, she rushed up the stairs and escaped into her office.
* * *
Shaking his head, he wondered at the orders he was given. How could this mouse of a woman be who they say she was? But, those green eyes hidden behind turtle-rimmed glasses . . . they could turn a man to putty with one glance. He clung to the shadows, merging his form with them and quietly followed her up the stairs.
* * *
Stretching, she realized it had been hours since she had eaten. The light had receded, and shadows covered her office—only the light on her desk kept them at bay. The silence of the TOMBS normally soothed her, but tonight left her restless. Feeling as if eyes followed her every movement, she realized how alone she was. She had never worried about this before. No one would look twice at her. Mom, why did you name me Rose? I am clumsy and not that pretty. A rose should be pretty and strong, yet delicate at the same time. Looking around her office, she gathered her bag, jammed her curls under the cloche, and threw her wrap around her shoulders. Her heels clacked on the granite floors, echoing through the TOMBS, a reminder of the late hour and how empty the building was.
A whisper, a ghost of a sound, had her turning around and searching the shadows. Clutching her wrap closer, she hastened her steps. “It’s just the cleaning crew,” she told herself. But another sound ahead of her startled her to a stop. Clutching her bag, she pushed her glasses up her nose and peered into the shadows. Indecision had her hesitating. Should she go back and call security? But, who would be in the TOMBS? She shook off the feeling of trepidation, that last myth must have gotten under her skin more than she had realized. She started forward again, but the shadows around her started to move and, before she could scream, a cold, claw-like hand covered her mouth.
“What do we have here?” The whisper slithered over her.
“A tender morsel,” said another voice.
She shivered as a feather-light touch went down her arm. She couldn’t see who spoke, just felt the cold of his hands. She shivered and wished she had taken the time to go to those classes her father always tried to push on her. Why would an academic need self-defense?
“Yes, a lovely morsel.” The first voice slithered through her again.
These two must not have eyes! Me? Lovely? Unable to speak through the hand over her mouth, she tried to shake her head as her body started to shake in fear.
“Ah, little morsel, you have something to say?” teased the second voice. “You’ll have to wait till we have you in a more–” His words were cut off as, she suddenly shrank and ran off. “YOU DIDN’T TELL ME SHE WAS A SHIFTER!” he screamed, as he searched the area for the little creature that had scurried off.
* * *
Not much surprised him anymore, but the woman shifting to a mouse did. No one had said anything of her being able to shift. This new development made him even more curious. First, he had to find out who these two were, who had sent them, and what they wanted with his mouse. Wait! My mouse? When did she become mine? Quickly he moved through the shadows to the Muahaha that were looking for Rose, the mouse.
Their long hair was frozen into locks as if they had just come out of a frozen pond, bare-chested with blue skin, their lean frames masked their surprising strength. But it was the long, sharp claws on their hands he had to be wary of. He had only heard of these creatures, never seen or fought one.
He approached them from behind and stabbed one between the ribs, twisting the knife out as his other arm circled the neck of the other. He
had to find out who sent them before he killed them. He squeezed his arm as hard as he could against the Muahaha’s neck, his arm slowly going numb from the cold.
“Who sent you?” he asked the Muahaha, who just laughed maniacally and reached behind to rake long claws down his sides. He felt the trickle of blood run down his side from the gash the Muahaha’s claws had made and gritted his teeth, fighting his body’s natural response to twitch. Muahaha had the ability to kill you, leaving you frozen with a smile on your face and gashes across your body. You never realized that you were bleeding out as you laughed yourself to death. Realizing the danger, he was in, he squeezed harder, but the Muahaha’s laughter just became more maniacal as he contorted for another rake down his side. Teeth clenched, he reached around with his other hand and stabbed the Muahaha, who died with an unnerving smile on his face.
“Damn!” He looked down and saw that his shirt had been torn down either side, two red lines slowly faded as his body quickly healed. The shirt was pointless, as it flapped with every movement. He tore it off to reveal chiseled abs and skin touched with a hint of a tan. “Little mouse! Rose! It’s safe now.” He peered into the dark. It would take hours to search the TOMBS. A mouse could hide in so many places, running from aisle to aisle without him seeing her. “Little Mouse?” I need a piece of cheese. Mice love cheese, right? He chuckled to himself. “Little Mouse, we have to get out of here. There might be more where those came from.” A noise to his left had him slowly turning. Peeking out of the door to her office, a little mouse twitched her nose, indecision clear in the action. “Come here, little one,” he whispered soothingly. Trembling, she scurried to him, and he picked her up. Running a finger down her auburn fur, she arched at the sensation and the shiver that ran through her.
His breath caught in his chest as a spark seemed to travel up his arm. How? It can’t be! He shook himself. Later–he didn’t have time to dwell on this or let it distract him. “Little mouse, it’s okay. You can change now.” She looked at him and tilted her head, a question clear in her movements. “You don’t know how, do you?” How could this be? Every shifter knew how to turn back–return–shift. It was taught at puberty with their first shift, either by a parent or elder... His little mouse was well past puberty. She shook her little head at him, ears turned down. He bent down to grab his coat, “It’s okay. Let’s get somewhere safe, and we will figure out how to change you back.” He set her into the pocket over his heart and started to quickly melt into the shadows.
Feeling safe for the first time since the monsters had appeared, and overcome by exhaustion, Rose curled into the heat and slept.
Chapter Two
A noise caused her to stir, and the movement that had lulled her to sleep stopped. She was warm, covered in a rough blanket. Her eyes popped open and with a squeak. Squeak? Did I just squeak? She tried to scramble from under the covers but couldn’t. A deep chuckle filled her ears and a hand descending over her had her cowering.
“Ouch, Little Mouse! Those little claws hurt!” The man carefully lifted her up out of the pocket and held her close. Feeling her little body shaking in fear, he carefully ran his finger down her back, feeling that odd shock again. This time it filled his chest with warmth, and was getting harder to ignore. “It’s okay, Little Mouse. We are here and you are safe.”
Slowly she looked around, her little pink nose twitching. Everything looked so big and all the smells overpowered her sensitive nose. She shrank back into his hand and cowered. Slowly, she was lowered to a bed and placed to face an older woman. Her white hair was neatly pulled into a bun, her skin was smooth with fine wrinkles around her mouth and eyes. It was impossible to judge her age, but her gray eyes showed a wisdom that made you pay attention. “This is Mags. She can help you change back.”
“Hello, Little One. Keyne says you can’t shift back. I need to touch you to see the problem.” With a cautious nod from Rose, Mags moved her hand to gently rest on the mouse’s back, then jolted. She stepped back, a look of shock on her face. Quickly her features smoothed, and she said, “Ah, Little One! You are special!” Then, turning to Keyne, said, “Grab a blanket, please.”
Keyne left to return a few minutes later with a plaid blanket. “Please set it over Rose. When I recite the incantation, she should change immediately, and it is imperative she be covered.” Moments later, Rose felt a warm glow, and suddenly, everything around her shrank as she returned to her human form, a blanket covering her. She looked at Mags and Keyne,
“What happened?” She tried to say, but all that came out was a croak. Mags handed her a glass of water, and she greedily drank it. Then, she tried to speak again. “What happened to me? How was I a mouse?”
Keyne looked at her in shock. “You don’t know? Haven’t you shifted before?” But then, he realized he had never heard of a shifter mouse before, small birds and hares, yes. Mice no, she was a first.
Mags rested a hand on Keyne’s shoulder, “Rose is special. It will take time to sort everything out. Would you mind going to Gris and asking for some clothes for her? And Molly should also have dinner ready. Would you ask for 3 trays? I think it best if Rose stays here for now.”
Keyne turned to Rose “Will you be okay while I am gone? I need to tell Gris of the Muahaha, that is something that we didn’t expect when we started watching you.”
Rose nodded her head, though it felt like her only safety was walking away from her. She looked at Mags, hoping that she would clue her into what was going on. Nervously, she worried her hands under the blanket. “Um. Can you tell me what happened? What were those things? Why did they want me? And why were you watching me?”
“In time, child, in time. Now you need to rest.” Mags touched her hand to Rose’s and Rose felt her eyes slowly close against their will.
* * *
Rose awoke to whispers and tantalizing smells. She lay there quietly, straining to hear what was being said. She hoped for a clue as to what was going on. Panic started to grip her, increasing her heart rate as she thought of the past day’s events. How long had she been sleeping? Her breathing increased, and she was no longer able to feign sleep. She heard movement and turned her head to see Keyne walking towards her. His hand touched hers, and a shock traveled up her arm. She looked into his eyes and saw shock in them. He must have felt it, too. What did it mean? But his presence was like a blanket covering her panic, letting her rest.
“Little Mouse, it’s okay. You’re safe here.” His voice was like the caress of his finger down her back when she had been in mouse form. She longed to touch him, but shied away from the thought.
“I don’t understand any of this! What happened? How did I turn into a mouse and what were those things?” She shivered at the memory of the cold she had felt as the one held her, the feel of the other’s claw running down her arm. With the memory came the cold sensation on her arm again, and she looked down to see a blue line running from her bicep to her wrist. She touched a finger to it and recoiled from how cold it was. Her eyes widened in fear, and she looked at Keyne. She saw sympathy in his eyes.
“It is the mark of the Muahaha.”
“The what?” her voice trembled.
“Those beings that attacked you are called Muahaha. They kill through laughter as they slice your body to ribbons.” He stared at her. “Why did they attack you? It is rare to see them so far south. They rarely leave their ice homes finding the cold to their liking.”
“Why would anyone attack me? I am nobody. I don’t have anything of value.” she paused, “How did I turn into a mouse? And why were you in the TOMBS? They were closed and I was working late.”
She could see an internal struggle within him as he debated what to tell her. She didn’t like this at all, not knowing what was going on and feeling that things were being hidden from her. She wanted out of– Where was she? As she became aware of her surroundings she noticed that under the blanket she was naked. Her face turned beet red. She was in a small bedroom, a bed along one wall and a dresser al
ong another, in the far corner sat two chairs and a table. That’s when she noticed that others were in the room. Mags sat next to a large man. His black shirt barely contained his muscles; his latte-colored skin and deep-brown eyes drew her in. She couldn’t tear her eyes away from his until she heard Mags.
“Rose, you’re awake. Gentlemen, let’s give Rose a minute to become presentable, and then we can talk.”
The men left, quietly shutting the door behind them. Mags brought her a pile of clothes. The soft long-sleeved t-shirt and jeans offered comfort and warmth. She wondered how the clothes fit so perfectly, but Mags had already gone to the door to let the men back in.
The man with the penetrating gaze came over to her bed. She sat on the blankets, refusing to appear an invalid; a shudder racked through her at the thought. Her mind wandered to her foster mother, who had spent much of her time in bed or searching for elusive cures while she wasted away. A touch on her hand brought her back to the present. The giant hand swallowed hers.
“Hello, Rose. I am Gris. I run things here, and you are a bit of a surprise,” he said with a smile.
“Hello” she said, unsure what to say. She wanted to know what was going on, but was tired of asking. She wanted to run back to her office, to her beloved TOMBS where she was safe–until she remembered the Muahaha. She shivered. No, thank you, I will stay here. At least with Keyne she felt safe. He hadn’t harmed her, and had stopped those monsters.
Protect (The Guardians Book 1) Page 1