{"id":1464,"date":"2016-10-27T01:05:12","date_gmt":"2016-10-27T05:05:12","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/kate-hill.com\/compellingbeastsblog\/?p=1464"},"modified":"2016-10-24T08:45:49","modified_gmt":"2016-10-24T12:45:49","slug":"story-sample-death-chant-by-vella-munn","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/kate-hill.com\/compellingbeastsblog\/2016\/10\/27\/story-sample-death-chant-by-vella-munn\/","title":{"rendered":"Story Sample: Death Chant by Vella Munn"},"content":{"rendered":"

\"vmdeathchant\"Title:<\/strong>\u00a0 Death Chant
\nAuthor:<\/strong> Vella Munn
\nBlurb:<\/strong>
\nWhen her mentor disappears, Winter follows his trail to the Pacific Northwest, where the untamed wilderness is beautiful\u2026and hides deadly secrets.<\/p>\n

Excerpt:<\/strong><\/p>\n

Winter Barstow circled the UPS package on her coffee table.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat have you been up to, Doc?\u201d she muttered. Not that her mentor could hear her. Doc was working on his grant in Olympic National Forest, hundreds of miles to the north. She placed a hand on the package. It had been on her front porch when she arrived, which made her conclude Doc\u2014Dr. Anthony Gilsdorf\u2014didn\u2019t place much value on its contents. But Doc wouldn\u2019t have sent her a gift on a whim. Whatever this was, it had meaning for him, meaning he wanted to share with her.<\/p>\n

She went into the kitchen for a knife and then cut through the layers of tape. Inside the package sat a reinforced cardboard box. She untangled the flaps to reveal a small mountain of wadded newspaper.<\/p>\n

A crawling sensation stopped her from removing the newspaper. Suddenly, she wished she could walk out of the room. And yet, at the same time, anticipation made her pulse race. She pressed her hand against her chest then tossed the paper aside. Closed her eyes and reached in. She touched wood.<\/p>\n

Wood. Smooth, with intricately carved curves and angles. She opened her eyes, carefully freed the object from its cocoon, and lifted it with numb fingers. Her heart rate kicked up even more as she placed it on the table. Then she stepped back to study what her mentor, a man who\u2019d given her life focus, had sent.<\/p>\n

A large, intricately decorated mask.<\/p>\n

Of a wolf.<\/p>\n

Painted red, black and white, and with pointed ears, abalone eyes, long snout and sharp teeth\u2014teeth capable of tearing and killing.<\/p>\n

\u201cHow\u2026\u201d Childhood memories washed over her, and her legs grew weak. Unlike the predator that had once been a vivid part of her dreams, the mask didn\u2019t look alive. Yet it took her back to when her dream wolf had been the one good thing about her world.<\/p>\n

Either Sitka spruce or western hemlock had been used to form the base shape. Dried but intact hide stretched over the bridge of the nose, and tuffs of brittle hair formed a dark halo. The teeth were bone fragments that had been glued or drilled into the jaws.<\/p>\n

\u201cWolf symbolism,\u201d she managed, her hand now at her throat. Native American ceremonial. Surely stolen. \u201cMy God, Doc, what have you done?\u201d<\/p>\n

Doc was a university anthropology professor, currently on a grant-supported field project. A professional like him didn\u2019t remove artifacts from national parks. He didn\u2019t break the law.<\/p>\n

And yet he had.<\/p>\n

She pulled her gaze away from the mask and stared at the road beyond her living room window, as if to assure herself that no one could see what she\u2019d just unveiled. Fortunately, living in a small rental in the desert east of San Diego gave her elbow room and relatively few neighbors.<\/p>\n

The mask was real. But why would Doc violate the Native American Graves Protection and Repatriation Act getting it to her? The mask wasn\u2019t worth a one hundred thousand dollar fine and a year in prison.<\/p>\n

She circled the table, studying the mask from all angles. There was something compelling about the cold, lifeless eyes, as well as the challenge shown in the flared nostrils and fierce open mouth. A master carver had created it, as evidenced by the lack of tool marks. Her educated guess was that it had come from either the Makah or Quileute tribes living along the Washington coast. Then she noted the black accenting the eyes. No. This was more likely Hoh.<\/p>\n

Turning from the mask, she dug through the wrapping for a note, but she found nothing. Suddenly weary, she pulled her cell phone out of the backpack that served as her purse and sank into her recliner. She had a message.<\/p>\n

It had better be from the man who\u2019d given her equal parts encouragement and lectures about doing something with her life. According to the automated voice, he\u2019d called this morning.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhere are you?\u201d Doc started. \u201cWinter, this\u00a0has\u00a0to be between the two of us. You\u2019re the only one I can trust.\u201d<\/p>\n

Trust? What was this about? She shivered.<\/p>\n

\u201cI need you up here as soon as possible. There\u2019s\u2014I can barely bring myself to speak the words. I\u2019m onto something beyond incredible. Something I believe is worth the risk I took. The danger.\u201d
\nPurchase Link:<\/strong>
\nhttps:\/\/www.amazon.com\/Death-Chant-Vella-Munn-ebook\/dp\/B01K4VZTKK<\/a><\/p>\n

Author Links:<\/strong><\/p>\n

http:\/\/www.vella-munn.com\/<\/a>
\nhttps:\/\/www.facebook.com\/vella.munn<\/a>
\nhttps:\/\/www.facebook.com\/Vella-Munn-Author-788044174656126\/<\/a><\/p>\n

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