Protect (The Guardians Book 1)

by K. B. Wheelock

  “All set, Little Mouse,” Keyne said, coming up behind her to drape an arm over her shoulder. The familiar shock and smell of peppermint and maple syrup surrounded her. I don’t think I will ever get used to that shock. Cucumbers . . . . She shook her head to dislodge the odd thoughts, and Keyne’s arm dropped from her shoulder. The warmth instantly dissipated, and she rubbed her arms. What is going on? I keep hearing these thoughts. I don’t think they are mine, but I really don’t understand. I’m not smelling cucumbers, but oh my that smell of peppermint and maple syrup . . . . So much had gone on in the past few days that her brain just couldn’t keep up.

  Chapter Six

  Once everything was in the SUV that had been delivered, they grabbed the sandwiches and drinks that Thea had provided and left. Gris had said to pack for bear, and he wasn’t kidding. The tan SUV was filled to the brim. Sleeping bags, bags of ammunition, bags with dehydrated food, a couple mess kits . . . . With all of it piled in, Rose had just enough room to sit. Thankfully, Keyne had placed the sleeping bags next to her, and they made a nice pillow to rest against. Ten hours driving should be plenty of time to get to know the guys . . . right?

  “So, what exactly are guardians? I’ve never heard of them. Are they only in Farfoss?”

  “Guardians are protectors. We go where we are needed. Certain cities with either large repositories of magical items or that have a lot of magical activity have chapters based there. Farfoss, with the TOMBS located there, has a small chapter. There are maybe ten of us there at any given time. We do not attract attention to ourselves and often times work in the shadows. Most people, magical or not, never see or hear of us. The larger cities that have more to protect will have chapters of up to fifty people. They will have a few safe houses in each city, but the numbers that stay at them are lower so as to not attract attention. They would have a headquarters somewhere that would allow for a lot of foot traffic.”

  “So guardians are basically like the secret service for the magical community?”

  Gris chuckled “You could say that, we just don’t do black suits and sunglasses. We also don’t have little earwigs.”

  “So, how do you become a guardian? Do you need to have special skills?”

  Keyne responded this time. “The majority of the Guardians are born. Your father or mother is a guardian, and it is passed down to you, just as shifting or magic is. Occasionally, a guardian is chosen. It is very rare, and they must have sacrificed themselves to protect something or someone important. In the protecting, they will gain a skill that is needed for the guardians. There is much more to it, but that is it in a nutshell.”

  “There are also different levels and departments within the Guardians. We have logistics, housekeeping, protectors . . . . Like any other organization it is much more than going out and protecting.” Gris said. “I am an ops and tactical specialist. I often times do the organizing of things for the house. Deciding who protects which assignments. For me this is a nice chance to get out of the office, so to speak”.

  “Thea also said that you are a healer?”

  “Yes. I inherited that from my mother. It is another reason I do not tend to go far from our safe house. I am able to heal most injuries, and thus we keep our injuries low. We have some special “balls” that we purchased from a friend in Missouri that allow us to quickly transport back to the safe house. But we only use them in cases of emergency.”

  “So Keyne, what is your role? Thea said you are a seeker?”

  “Yes. Often times when we are given an assignment like you, that we do not know where it will lead, I am sent in. If we need to find a certain item, I can usually find it, but I must know what I am looking for. A key, a crown, a certain book, I can find. Once I have a image, or have met a person, I can find it or them. I also am highly trained in combat, so I am very good at protecting.”

  “You can find anyone? So, if I were to become separated . . . .”

  “Yes, I could find you in a snowstorm on Mars.”

  “Who else in Farfoss is part of the safe house? Where do the funds come from?”

  “Enough questions. You are not even supposed to know of our existence. You know too much without the skills to hide what you know,” Gris growled. Rose sat quietly for awhile, then reached into her bag for a book. Maybe she had missed something in her research that would help with this puzzle.

  Chapter Seven

  Little Mouse, we are here.” Groggily, Rose opened her eyes. A sign flickered in the parking lot “Lucky’s _ast Resort”. In front of the car was an old ramshackle motel. The kind that you would drive by and shudder at the thought of staying in. The front cottage was what once might have been a white clapboard, now more wood than paint showed. The light flickered on and off reading “vacancy” in bold red neon letters. Behind the cottage, a long low building rested. Eight doors and windows ran the length of the building. Like the cottage, the paint might once have been white, but now it was peeled back to show the wood. The trim had remnants of the red paint that once had made the structure look welcoming, but now just made you cringe at what you would find behind the doors.

  “Well, I have good news, and I have bad news.” Gris said. Rose turned to look at him. What good news could come from staying in this ramshackle place? More than likely the bad news would be what diseases and infestations they would leave with. “They do have a room, but that is the bad news. I guess the “vacancy” they advertise is ONLY for this one room. The other seven rooms are . . . claimed or unable to be used. He wasn’t very clear on that, but he also didn’t ask for ID and was happy with the cash I gave him.”

  “Is this all we can afford? I have some money on my credit cards. A low grade chain motel would be better than this flea hole”

  “Rose, remember we don’t want to attract attention that we are here. Anywhere else there would be a record of us. Here, there won’t be. Plus, it can’t really be that bad,” Gris grabbed his bag and a sleeping bag and headed towards door 8. He jiggled the key in the lock until it finally turned with an ominous creak. The car was looking better and better, if not for the cold. Rose and Keyne grabbed their bags and a sleeping bag and followed Gris into the room. There were two double beds, a dresser with an old television with rabbit ears on it, and a table and two chairs. At the back of the room, was a sink and to the left of it, a door that presumably went into the bathroom. The floor was a thick shag that would not be seeing bare feet this side of the moon. Both beds had an old flower quilt on them colored with yellows and browns. If you didn’t know better you would think you had stepped into That 70’s Show.

  “Should we play rock, paper, scissors to see who get to sleep alone?” Keyne said with a wicked grin. Heat suffused Rose’s face.

  Grabbing her sleeping bag, she claimed the farthest bed and said “Go ahead boys, but you know rock always beats the others.” Laughing, they each set their sleeping bags on the other bed.

  “I will take the floor tonight,” Gris said. “Keyne, you can take it tomorrow night.” Rose almost felt guilty for letting Gris sleep on the floor. Who knew what could be hiding in that shag, or what fluids it had seen. She shivered and then yawned. How could she still be tired after sleeping half the way here? Rifling through her bag, she pulled out the sleep shorts and shirt that she had brought. Running into the bathroom, she quickly changed. Not letting her feet touch the old laminate, she used the facilities and ran to her bed. Sitting on the bed, she took her shoes off and climbed into the sleeping bag. Keyne handed her a pillow. Apparently while she had been in the bathroom, the guys had grabbed all their stuff from the car.

  “Gris, I feel bad about you sleeping on the floor. Who knows what that floor has seen? You can sleep here next to me. We will be in our own sleeping bags, so it’s not like we are sharing a bed.” She knew she was babbling, but she couldn’t help it.

  Eyeing the floor warily, he looked at Rose. “Are you sure?”

  She gulped. Down the rabbit hole I go. “Of course.”

  Gris
followed her example, grabbing his clothes and going to change. Keyne came and sat next to Rose. “Are you sure about this? We can share the bed the same as you and he can.”

  Nervously, she eyed the other bed. “There is no way the two of you can fit on that bed. It will be tight with me and Gris. Plus, if it wasn’t for this cold spell, we would be camping. What’s the difference between this and a tent?”

  He touched her hand. “Okay, but if you’re uncomfortable tell us and we can switch things around.” Lucky bastard. I wish I was the one sleeping there. Why didn’t I think to take the floor?

  Rose jolted. “What did you say, Keyne?” I couldn’t have heard that right? He didn’t really say that he would want to sleep next to me, did he?

  “Nothing, Rose” He looked at her oddly.

  “You’re sure you didn’t say anything? Anything at all about the sleeping arrangements?” she questioned. Something funny was going on and she really couldn’t shake it. Why did she keep hearing these thoughts? Was she going insane?

  “No. All I said was if you’re uncomfortable let us know, and we will change the arrangements. Are you feeling okay? You seem a little . . . off”

  “Yeah, I must just be tired.” Gris walked into the room, grabbed his sleeping bag and joined her on the bed. She fluffed her pillow (thankful that the original plan had been to camp and she wouldn’t need to use the hotel pillows or sheets) and snuggled in. The bed sagged as Gris climbed into his sleeping bag. His large frame took up much of the bed and Rose found herself laying rigid, afraid to move.

  Gris touched her hand “It’s ok. I promise not to bite.” I’ll be the one laying here, trying not to wake her, and it won’t just be my back that will be stiff. It will be all I can do to not touch her.

  Rose tensed. “Um, Gris. Do you have enough room?” What was going on?

  “Sure do, Muisje. Now go to sleep. Tomorrow we go to see your professor.”

  “Gris, what does muisje mean? You keep calling me that.”

  Gris’s chest rumbled in suppressed laughter. “It means ‘little mouse’ in Dutch.”

  “Where did you learn Dutch?”

  “My grandparents are from Belgium. They moved here after the war. When I was a child visiting them they would speak Dutch at home. I don’t remember much, but I do remember the word for mouse.” He said with a smile. “Now we really need to sleep.”

  Keyne came back into the room, shut the lights off, and climbed into his sleeping bag.

  Chapter Eight

  Suddenly Rose couldn’t breathe, a vise was around her chest. No you can’t take her. She’s mine. You have no rights to her. Panic-filled thoughts raced through her. You promised you would leave us. We gave you what you wanted. The vice around her chest lifted, but the fear and anger didn’t. Wide awake, she looked over at Gris who was clearly in the middle of an upsetting dream. Carefully, she touched his arm. She’s gone. She’s gone. She’s gone.

  Slowly getting out of bed, she walked over to the chair and sat looking out the window. The desolate parking lot did little to distract her from her thoughts. But, maybe that was for the best. Something was going on here, and she needed to figure it out. When she touched Gris in his sleep, it was as if she could hear his thoughts. And when she had awoken, his arm had been flung over her chest. Racking her brain, she tried to remember every time she had felt or heard someone else’s thoughts. It wasn’t always happening, so it had to have some cause. Something that triggered it. But, what? The first time it happened was when Gris was teaching her self-defense. She had thought it had been her thoughts, but maybe they weren’t. They had distracted her, but so had his touch. Then there was when Keyne had touched her hand last night. That lucky bastard comment . . . . That’s it! Physical contact triggers it. When I am touching someone I can hear their thoughts.

  She doesn’t know how pretty she is sitting there, the hint of sunrise lighting her face. A touch on her shoulder accompanied the thought. “Couldn’t sleep, Little Mouse?” Keyne asked. Jumping, she squealed and turned into her namesake.

  “Squeak squeak,” an annoyed mouse said. Quickly touching the stone, Rose turned back. “Dammit, Keyne. You scared me. I thought everyone was asleep.”

  “I’m a light sleeper and an early riser, so when you didn’t go back to bed, I thought I would get up, too.”

  “It’s too early to be awake,” grumbled Gris.

  “I agree, but it seems I awoke to a vise around my chest.” Pausing and debating if she should continue, Rose took a deep breath. “Gris?”

  “Yes, Mouse?”

  “Who did you lose?” a quick intake of his breathe was the only evidence that he heard her. He got up and went into the bathroom, and the shower turned on.

  She turned to Keyne with wide eyes. Gris had never walked away like that. “Rose . . . it’s not my place to say what happened. But, he doesn’t talk about it often.” He stopped. “How did you know?”

  Rose debated what to tell him, but decided to go with the easiest answer, she wasn’t ready to share her insight and new found skill. “He talked in his sleep.” Keyne looked at her and walked away. He could tell she was lying, her nose got this little wrinkle when she did. Plus, he was a light sleeper.

  “You might want to turn around.” He told her as he pulled out a pair of jeans. Heat infusing her face she spun around. It might have been a cheap jab at her, but she was so easy to get a rise out of. And a cheaper jab would have been to just start stripping without the warning.

  “I’m going to head out for coffee. Donuts good for breakfast?”

  “Sure, especially if it is a Boston Kreme.” The look on her face at the thought of a Boston crème donut had him spinning around. “Tell Gris I’ll be back.” The door shut behind him.

  Rose sat on the bed. She didn’t want to get dressed until after she showered, and she was nervous about talking to Gris after obviously upsetting him. As if on cue, the bathroom door opened, and Gris stepped out, a towel wrapped around his waist, water droplets clinging to his chest. Her mouth dropped open, and she forgot how to breathe. “Oops, sorry, Rose. I heard the door shut and thought you’d left. I forgot to grab a change of clothes.” He grabbed his bag and returned to the bathroom. A few minutes later he came out wearing his signature t-shirt and jeans. She was still sitting in the same spot, her brain really needed coffee to wake up. “Rose. Rose?” Gris waved his hand in front of her. She snapped out of her trance.

  “Coffee” she managed to say.

  Gris laughed. “Yes, Muisje. We know you need coffee. Is that where Keyne went?”

  She nodded yes, still unable to speak. “Um, Rose. How did you know I lost someone?”

  She had to decide. If she continued with the idea that he talked in his sleep, she was shutting a door. If she told him the truth . . . well, she didn’t know where that would lead. Taking a deep breath she said, “You told me. Well, not directly. I heard you and figured it out.” His confused look told her that she was messing this up. She took a deep breathe in and let it out. “For the past 24 hours I have been . . . hearing things. I thought I was going insane. Or I attributed it to something I had been thinking. But when I was sleeping last night, err this morning, I woke up to your arm across me. A feeling of panic and anger filled me, and I “heard” you talking ‘No, you can’t take her. She’s mine. You have no rights to her.’ You said some other things as well then there was a feeling of loss. I got up and spent time sitting at the window thinking about these odd things I have been hearing.” Rose touched his arm. Crap is she saying what I think she is saying? She can hear my thoughts! “Yes, I can hear your thoughts. But it seems only when we are in physical contact.”

  “Wow! That is a lot to think on without coffee.” Gris paced the room trying to take it all in. If what she said was true, they would have to guard their thoughts when they touched, if they touched. “But, to answer your first question. Yes, I did lose someone, a long time ago. But in my dream, it was a dog we were fighting over. Two of us had wanted
the same dog. I had won the race for her, but she still went to the other boy. I was as mad as a 11-year-old boy could be. Months later I found her in a ditch. The boy who had won her, had tortured her and left her to die. I took her home and mother helped me to heal her. God, I miss that dog.”

  The door opened, and Keyne peaked his head in. “Safe to enter?”

  “Well, we’re not wrestling on the sheets or at each other’s throats, so I guess it is safe.” Gris said. Rose sputtered, grabbed a cup of coffee and her bag and ran into the bathroom. Gris obviously had a wicked sense of humor.

  “Rose,” Gris yelled. “Can I tell Keyne of your revelation, or would you like to wait and tell him?”

  “I’ll be out in a minute and can tell him.” Foregoing a shower for food and a little fun at Keyne’s expense, she walked out of the bathroom. She dropped her bag on the floor and walked towards the table where Gris and Keyne stood. They clearly had left the chair for her. “Please tell me you got donuts, too” she sipped her coffee watching Keyne. He handed her the bag, their hands touching for a second, I got her what she asked for. Will she be as expressive eating it as she was thinking about it? Rose looked into the bag and grabbed the Boston Kreme. They really were the best donuts out there, watching Keyne she took a dainty bite, letting the cream drip down her lip. Slowly her tongue darted out and licked the remnant. She took another bite, allowing her eyes to close and groaned. Yes, this was nirvana. Slowly, she ate the whole donut, making sure that it was obvious she enjoyed each and every bite. Gris cleared his throat, Keyne looked at her as if he had never seen a woman before. Laughing she licked her fingers clean. “Gotcha, Keyne, was I as expressive eating it as I was thinking about it?”

  Keyne started “What the–? How?”

  Gris burst out laughing. “That is her revelation. It appears when she is in physical contact with someone, she can hear their thoughts.” Gris said.