Stone Guardian (Entwined Realms) Read online

  Stone Guardian (Entwined Realms, Book 1)

  By Danielle Monsch

  Romantic Geek Publishing

  STONE GUARDIAN (ENTWINED REALMS, BOOK 1)

  Copyright © 2013 Danielle Monsch

  E-book ISBN 978-1-938593-05-5

  Publication Date: July 2013

  Content Editor: Gwen Hayes

  Line Editor: Jessa Slade

  Copyeditor: Eilis Flynn

  Cover Design: Nathalia Suellen

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.

  All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons – living or dead – is purely coincidental.

  Dedication

  It has been a long journey from the first moment I got the idea to write this book to that happy point when I became a good-enough writer I could pull it off.

  It’s not a journey I’ve taken alone.

  This book is dedicated to all the people who have helped me become the writer I needed to be to make this book a reality.

  My special thanks to Mary Buckham, Dianna Love, Margie Lawson, Laurie Schnebly Campbell, Grace Bradley, Mallory Braus, Rhonda Helms, Jennifer Haymore, Victoria Janssen, Gwen Hayes, and Jessa Slade.

  And, as always, Mr. Jim Garner.

  Chapter One

  Jack Miller aimed his shotgun at the monster’s grey-skinned head and pulled the trigger. Green sludge and bits of bone and flesh splattered through the air to land on the street, the gory aftermath releasing a noxious, sulfurous odor.

  Shit! His head whipped around, on search for others. He’d hoped to avoid these creatures, but his luck was overall fucked today. The noise would bring more monsters, more death. There was no further advantage to keep creeping around in shadows. It was time to haul ass.

  After the earthquake an hour earlier, the streets now resembled pieces of a jigsaw puzzle strewn around. A car wouldn’t make it three feet. Shotgun reloaded, he took off through the jagged mess, years of trail running keeping him upright.

  A low undertone of anguish surrounded him, cries from people needing help, unable to escape their stone prisons. He didn’t pause. I’m getting my wife. I’m sorry, but you’re on your own.

  His Lauren, who he had last seen rubbing her nine months pregnant belly, giving him that crooked smile at his panicked question, “Is it time to go to the hospital? Should we call Ana to get the boys?”

  She had waved him out the door in the peaceful morning light saying there was still time, she would start to take care of things, now go be a good cop and let the captain know paternity leave was about to take their best detective away.

  Six hours after she kissed him goodbye, Jack stepped into his standard public-servant-worn office, on return from a jail run. His own cell phone out of commission due to a run-in with a perp, he reached for the desk phone to call Lauren and see how she was feeling when the phone rang. He picked it up. “Detective Miller.”

  “Yes, is this the husband of Lauren Miller?”

  Jack’s skin goose-bumped at the detachment in that voice, as practiced as any cop who worked homicide for twenty years. It took two tries to swallow and relax his throat enough to speak. “I’m Lauren’s husband.”

  “Detective, this is County General. Your wife has been admitted, and I’m afraid that an emergency situation has devel-”

  The ground buckled and twisted and threw him against the wall. The building creaked and groaned, the high-pitched crack of shattering glass sharp in his ears.

  The floor still moved. He struggled to regain his footing and watched the earthquake tear through the city from his third-story view. Buildings wrenched from the earth, cars tossed through the air, glass shattered in visible streams. Outside a maelstrom of loud, crashing noise accompanied by the acrid smell of smoke and burning gasoline.

  As the destruction continued outside another change took place. Nothing physical signaled this wreckage, but against his skin was scraping, surging, scratching, a changing of air and atmosphere – something shaking up his guts, fucking with him down to the bone and beyond.

  Wrongness. Jack locked his knees and leaned against the scarred-wooden desk. Acid surged up his throat and he kept swallowing hard against the urge to keel over and vomit.

  “CODE 999! CODE 999!”

  Moments later a volley of gunfire sounded outside. A stampede of footsteps pounded past his door. The precinct charged into crisis mode.

  Jack stepped into the swarm of cops heading for the munitions locker. The sergeant handed out weapons, only taking enough notice to make sure he was handing to a cop. “Don’t forget the sting grenades,” Sarge called out as officers suited up in Kevlar, riot gear, and automatic weapons.

  Running to the front of the station, Jack heard screams, then a horrified “What the fuck are those?”

  Disbelief stopped Jack dead as he exited the station and looked what was coming down the road.

  Dear God…

  The rookie behind him plowed hard into his back. It didn’t knock him over, but it shook him out of the daze.

  Training took over, and as he drew his gun and began firing, he catalogued the monsters descriptions. Humanoid features, heights 6’5” to 7’5”, built like weightlifters. Grey-green skin, with overlarge heads and features misshapen like they’d been pummeled thirteen rounds in the ring. Jaws shoved forward with tusks protruding upward like ivory knives.

  They were every nightmare had by every little boy made flesh.

  They carried swords and axes and bows as though they had stepped out of a medieval exhibit. The metal surfaces gleamed in the late afternoon sun, the glint menace personified as it shone in his eyes.

  The bullets of the .45s weren’t doing enough damage. Jack shouted behind him, “Get me a shotgun!”

  Cops fired while several monsters broke into a run and ran at them in a full-frontal assault.

  Gun empty, Jack looked around for a weapon. A sword lay on the ground. Not seeing any other options, he picked it up.

  The fucker was heavier than any bat he’d ever swung. One creature ran to mow him down, and at the last moment Jack went down to his knees, swinging the sword at the creature’s thigh.

  The sword sliced clean through, severing leg from body. The creature fell forward and hit the ground with a hard thud. Before it could move, Jack drove the sword straight down into the creature’s chest where a human’s heart would be.

  It worked. The creature exhaled in a death gasp. Jack pulled the sword out and again faced the fray.

  “Detective, here!” called a voice, a shotgun thrust into Jack’s hands the moment he turned toward it. The gun settled against him in familiar comfort.

  With several officers now firing shotguns and automatics the monsters were taking damage at a good rate. As their body count rose the largest of the monsters – who stayed toward the rear during the attack – threw his head back and released a high-pitched primal scream. The monsters turned from the station and retreated deeper into the city.

  Retreated toward the hospital.

  Oh God…

  The bark of the captain’s voice overwhelmed the confusion. He took charge and centered the group of cops, breaking them into large teams to start search and rescue.

  Jack stormed to the older man’s side. “Captain, my wife’s at the hospital, I’ve got to get to her.”

  The older man shook his head, dismissing Jack without even bothering to look at him. “Not happening. In case you failed to notice, we are in a state of emergency. We have a disaster plan to follow, and we’re
sticking to it.”

  Jack’s hands curled into fists. Fear and anger and worry urged him to strike out against anything that stood between him and Lauren. This man was an obstacle to be eliminated. “My wife needs me.”

  As if he could sense the younger man’s thoughts, the captain took a protective step back. “Those things ran into the city, straight in the direction of the hospital. It is unsafe to go there when we have no idea what the hell we are facing.” Turning toward other officers, the captain continued, “We need to start canvassing the surrounding areas, get survivors out and to safety. Miller, I want you to take your men and scour zone D. Direct everyone back to the safe haven.”

  A firm hand on his shoulder prevented Jack from damaging both the captain and his career, a hand that belonged to his partner Hector Torres. Jack nodded at Hector’s unspoken command, saying nothing as the plans were finalized. Weapons were distributed, boundaries were gone over, and one by one the groups went.

  After his group had cleared the precinct, Jack turned to Hector. “Torres-” he began, but the older Hispanic man shook his head, stopping the words.

  “I know, Miller, you’re heading to the hospital. I’m surprised you lasted this long. Ana called me, she has the boys and they’re heading to safety now. Lauren asked her to come get them before she went to the hospital. You worry about your wife.”

  “Thanks, man.”

  Hector shrugged, black humor that spoke of long years on the force coming out as he responded, “Hope you make it back alive.”

  “Just take care of my boys.” And Jack left to face the nightmares between him and Lauren.

  The bite of autumn air froze his lungs as Jack continued his jog, shotgun at his side. Several monsters appeared, searching the area.

  Damn, they heard that last gunshot.

  One monster spotted him, pointing in his direction and leading the other creatures toward him.

  Jack started shooting. He was hitting his targets with the accuracy born out of long hours at the gun range, but too soon the last round was fired.

  Dropping the useless shotgun to the ground, he pulled out the large bowie knife from his waistband.

  A howl rolled through the darkening night – deeper and fiercer than any howl he’d ever encountered on the ranch growing up. Jack should have been pissing his pants in terror, but right now was only numbness, too much seen and felt and dealt with today.

  Bursting from the ruined buildings came the biggest wolves he had ever seen, big as shit. Except they weren’t wolves, they looked like wolves mixed with human. Some ran on two legs, some on all four. Broad barrel chests and long arms and legs thick with muscle, fur stuck out in stiff tufts, ears pointed and alert atop their skulls, short snouts that gleamed white, sharp teeth.

  Werewolves? Are these werewolves?

  They ran at the grey-skinned monsters, jumping from great distances to snap at the monsters faces and throats, claws leaving deep gouges and drawing out more green blood and viscous matter.

  Creatures that only should exist in big-budget horror films fought each other. Even as blood and bodies marked the streets, he could only look on with a detached fascination.

  Three of the wolven creatures broke away from the back and ran for Jack, and the numbness fled before a spike of adrenaline. Sweat beaded at the base of his neck and marked a trail down his back. He brought his blade up.

  The werewolf in front was much larger than the other two. The closer they got the clearer the details were. Jack could start marking where they must have sustained wounds. The smallest one had the worst, a deep gouge on its face that still bled.

  They stopped, all upright. Dark brown fur was absorbed by skin, snouts shortened to form a humanoid nose and mouth, claws became hands. In moments, a human man with shaggy dark blond hair and yellow eyes stood before him. The two smaller ones were both male, a teen and a prepubescent, with features so similar to the adult they had to be family.

  The adult stared him down, those yellow eyes unwavering as they appraised Jack. “I would appreciate it if you lowered your blade,” the now man said, motioning with his chin to the knife in Jack’s hand.

  These creatures could kill him with little difficulty. As loath as he was to give up any weapon, it would be nothing but stupidity to keep it out and antagonize the creature. Jack opened his mouth, and words he didn’t plan tumbled out. “How is this real?”

  Battle cries sounded in the background as the werewolf spoke. “I do not know. What I have been told is our realms have collided.”

  “Collided? What do you mean, realms?”

  “I mean your world is not my world. Yet somehow, they have become one.”

  Jack looked to the battle still waging, the werewolves winning over the other monsters. “What are those things?”

  “Orcs. They are our enemies.”

  “And humans?”

  The werewolf studied him with the palest yellow eyes he had ever seen. “Humans exist on my world. Most were allies. We will see if the humans on this world will be considered the same. For the moment I am willing to give you the benefit of the doubt. We will fight the orcs so the humans of this area will be safe.”

  The orcs were retreating. The werewolves still in battle followed, and all the monsters dispersed toward the city’s edge.

  Jack wasn’t going to follow to see how it played out. Right now only Lauren mattered. “Thank you for saving me.”

  The werewolf nodded. “Perhaps in the future, you will return the favor,” he said, turning back into his other form, the young ones following his lead. All three took off in the direction of the sounds of battle, and Jack went the opposite way, toward his wife.

  The double doors of the hospital entrance were in sight when a great flapping sounded overhead, air gusting around him like a mini-tornado, whipping up debris in great chunks.

  Around him the late afternoon sun disappeared, leaving shadow and darkness. Jack looked up.

  Fucking hell.

  This can’t be.

  Am I…?

  Crazy. Have to be crazy.

  Dra-

  Dear Lord, please,

  Dragon?

  Help us…

  It was straight from every fairy tale ever told. Enormous enough to block the sun. A wingspan easily three times that of the largest plane he’d ever seen. A long neck and an even longer tail.

  It passed over him, lost to his sight within moments.

  Sensation returned to his limbs. Only then did the throb of his palms and the ache in his knees make themselves known, where concrete shards sliced into his hands and ripped out the knees of his trousers to bloody the skin underneath. His legs throbbed as he rose.

  No. Compartmentalize. Later. He’d think on it later. Now he had to get into that fucking hospital.

  Ignoring shouts to keep out, he bounded up the steps to the sixth-floor maternity ward, leaping over rock and broken steps that littered his path.

  The front desk of the maternity ward was empty and the automatic doors were open. Here the earthquake had done enough damage to twist walls and leave chunks of tile lying about. Power was on, but it was dim – back-up generator only. It was safe enough to keep the patients here, but it was clear the ward was in crisis mode. With no one to stop him, he ran down the hall. “Lauren! Lauren!”

  A nurse ran out of one of the rooms in front of him. “Sir, you need to stop! We are trying to keep everyone calm.”

  “I’m looking for my wife. What room is Lauren Miller in?”

  A stillness stole over the nurse’s form except her shoulders, which pushed back in quick movement. “Lauren Miller?” she asked, but it was stalling disguised as a question, something a cop saw and heard on a daily basis. Tendrils of fear Jack had not experienced even when faced with those monsters only minutes before uncurled from his belly, his skin growing chilled as they wormed their way to the surface.

  “Where is my wife?” he asked, advancing on the younger woman.

  The nurse would not
look him in the eye, her throat working in nervousness, and his skin went from chilled to sub-zero. “Sir, you need to wait here. I need to get my supervisor…”

  “Where’s my wife?” he screamed, grabbing the young woman by the shoulders and shaking her.

  “That’s enough.” The voice was a whip, cracking through the air. He turned to behold a battle-axe of a woman, late sixties, built broad and strong with a face that told she had seen much and overcame it all. “Let the girl go.”

  “I want my wife! Where is Lauren Miller?”

  The older woman walked to him, no fear in her as she grabbed his hands and peeled them away from the girl’s shoulders, her focus such he could not look away from her. She said to no one in particular, “Bring Mr. Miller a wet cloth to wipe down and a scrub shirt.”

  The squeak of shoes at his side told him someone was following her orders. Wet cloth was thrust into his hands and habit had his body moving even as his thoughts were centered on his wife. As soon as he pulled the clean top over his head, he said, “Please, my wife, where is she?”

  There. That flash of compassion in her eyes, that fucking flash that every cop and doctor and nurse displayed when they were about to tell you your life was over. He backed away from her, shaking his head. “No. No, no, no.”

  She was ruthless in her efficiency. “Mr. Miller, I’m sorry to tell you that your wife died today. There were complications. The baby was born as the earthquake started and we lost power, and in the chaos we couldn’t do what was necessary to save her life.”

  No.

  No no no nononono nonononononononononononononono

  It was the hand on his cheek, the living warmth of another human that brought him to awareness, the realization the litany was not in his head but coming out of his mouth. He grabbed her wrist. “Let me see my wife. Take me to my wife!”

  “No Mr. Miller.” The nurse’s eyes were steady on him. Not breaking eye contact, she called out, “Sarah, bring the baby.”