Out of the Shadows: Shadow Warriors, Book 1

Dedication

I want to thank the following people: My editor Mary Hamilton, who started my year off with a bang by contracting
Out of the Shadows,
and who wielded her editorial pen with precision, helping me refine this story to be the strongest it could be. Samhain Art Director Scott Carpenter’s talent deserves more than this humble tribute. He took a simple art form I filled out and came up with this amazing cover that simply rocks. I’ve also put together a book trailer and I absolutely couldn’t have done it without music men Jeff Erdmann and Rick Horvath for bringing forth the sound of the Aztecs; photographer Sylvester Zawadski for capturing my images; and the team at Ghost Writer Extraordinaire (GWE) for putting the final package together and spreading the word.

Chapter One

The ache in his soul grew with each step.

His muscles bunched and released as his legs chewed up the distance. He barely felt the scorching desert sand beneath the pads of his paws. His canine nose held the scent of the enemy, unerringly tracking the demon through the sweltering heat and vast expanse of the Arizona desert.

Buried deep inside, Tomás let his wolf spirit take control. His animal spirit loved the chase, relished the moments when it was set free.

A demon had taken possession of a human’s body and had perpetrated ever-increasing horrors on unsuspecting mortals until his actions had caught the attention of
Huitzilopochtli,
the Aztec sun god. Tomás had been ordered to take down the demon and drag him back to the netherworld. After that, he would scout out this piece of land to determine why demons kept targeting it.

Basically, another mission that would play out like all the others—assuming he survived.

His wolf suddenly halted, head up, body alert. Tomás sought the link between man and beast to determine what had caught the animal’s attention.

A scent flowed in, light and crisp, like the air after a rain shower. It overrode the demon’s acrid, sulfuric smell.

Tomás forced his wolf spirit to pivot, employing all his senses to lock on to the elusive scent.

His heart stuttered. Could it possibly be? Was his spirit mate finally within reach?

Alarmed, his wolf spirit tried to call to him, to take control and order him to resume the chase. Tomás ignored the wolf, his entire focus bent on locating the source of that scent. It called to him in a way he couldn’t define, other than it touched a part of his soul he’d long thought dead. His head whipped left, right, his nostrils flaring, inhaling the odors of the desert. He could feel his wolf pulling at him, determined that they continue on to take down the demon. It was their primary mission.

At least it had been until that scent caught his attention. Hope flared within Tomás. A spirit mate would be his salvation.

His wolf growled, making its feelings clear. His human spirit struggled to override the animal spirit, a battle within one body between two powerful wills.

Was it happening? Had he finally lost the fight just when his spirit mate was so close? Would he spend the rest of eternity lost within the form of his wolf, his humanity subordinate to the will of the beast?

A harsh, painful cry erupted from within Tomás.

His wolf echoed the sound with a long howl.

His warrior’s heart beat strong, his determination resolute. Tomás gave one final tug, applying all his willpower, and then they were running flat-out, heading towards the vast unknown and an uncertain fate.

A wolf’s howl pierced the desert silence, causing the animals to stir restlessly in their stalls. Wolves had been reintroduced into Arizona, but she had yet to see or hear one so close to her ranch. Was it an omen?

Carolina paused in her chores to stare out the open barn door into the gathering darkness.

For a moment, she let herself get caught up in the long, solitary note. It felt like the cry of a kindred spirit. She knew loneliness intimately. Only her loneliness did not come from the vast miles of the sun-parched Sonoran desert that surrounded her, but out of the necessity to protect her goddess, her land’s secret. As one of the few amongst her people to become a guardian, her choices were limited.

The one occasion she’d invested herself in another, he’d betrayed her. She’d foolishly placed her hope and trust in Billy and she’d paid a horrendous price. Her desire to find someone to share the workload, her joy and sadness, and the burden of her secret—just as her parents had done—had blinded her to the trap she’d walked into. By the time she understood what was happening, it was too late. Her parents were dead.

Her heart weighed heavy in her chest as if it had happened recently and not five years ago. The memory of her parents lingered too close to the surface today. This had been their land, their dream, and now it was hers to fight for. She’d vowed never to fail them again. Above her own needs came the higher purpose of protecting her goddess at all costs.

Her mare, Mariposa, snorted and reared up, pulling Carolina from her thoughts. The animals had been growing edgier with each passing minute. They sensed the evil that blew in with the warm desert breeze. She berated herself for not paying more attention to them.

Goose bumps prickled her skin. Her tattoo, a gift from the goddess, began a slow burn on her shoulder, a sure sign that evil was approaching. She felt the heat radiating through the fabric of her denim shirt. The last time she’d experienced the odd sensation, her world had fallen apart.

Cautiously, she turned her head, seeking the source.

Her breath came out in a gasp.

Less than ten feet away sat a magnificent gray wolf, watching her. Waiting.

He detected no fear in the
cihuatl
, the woman. Surprise, wariness, yes, but not fear. How unexpected.

Even more unexpected was the crisp, refreshing scent of water that he’d caught out in the desert, surrounding her. He tested the air, his olfactory senses lingering over the fragrance, noting it smelled as pure now as it did then. His wolf remained alert, uninterested in the woman before it. Once more they were in complete disagreement.

Everything about the
cihuatl
interested Tomás.

She wore jeans long faded to a soft blue from years of use, topped with a denim shirt, the long sleeves rolled up to her elbows. When she’d turned, he’d noted her lean, fit body, the smooth play of her muscles beneath the cloth. She’d pulled her long, dark hair back in a single braid that lay over her shoulder down to the slope of her breast. Her chestnut eyes watched him guardedly.

“I don’t know if you’re the reason my skin is on fire, but you need to leave.”

Her words floated across the distance.

His wolf pricked its ears up. Tomás did the same.

She stared at him with such seriousness that Tomás was entranced. She should be afraid of him, at least edging away to put distance between them. Yet, whether she’d realized it or not, she’d taken two steps closer.

There was harmony in her tones, the sound so clear it flowed through his tattered soul.

“Go.” Her arms hung loose at her sides, but ever so slowly she raised them. Her movements appeared smooth, like ripples across a pool of water, barely noticeable.

This unusual woman intrigued him. A vague memory passed over him like a cloud. And like a cloud, it was too insubstantial for him to hold on to. It had been so long since he had remembered his human past.

For centuries his life had revolved around duty and the constant fight to protect humanity from the demons unleashed by vengeful Aztec gods. He was a shadow warrior, one of the strongest, bravest souls chosen by
Huitzilopochtli
to defend humanity against evil. In his human life, he had been a seasoned, battle-hardened warrior who fought until the very end. In death, he continued the fight, never resting until he fulfilled his duty to his god. Tomás’s contact with humans remained minimal. He did his job and left. He mixed with humans insofar as it helped him get his target, but never had he cared to spend any time with one of them.

Until now.

This woman might be his spirit mate and that changed everything.

Even his wolf showed none of its prior urgency to chase the demon. Something about this woman held them both captive. Her expression remained intent and focused. She appeared to be a woman of strength wrapped up in an aura of innocence, a combination he found alluring. Confusion warred with rediscovered emotions. He wanted to reach out and touch the woman, connect with her somehow, the need overpowering. His wolf growled, warning him against such recklessness.

The woman stepped back as if she suddenly realized she should get to safety. Each movement flowed from the other and he couldn’t take his eyes off her.

An animal squealed in pain and they both whipped their heads around. The animals in their stalls erupted into a wild frenzy. The woman spared him a brief glance before tearing down the center aisle.

The wolf picked up the scent and Tomás cursed. How had he and his animal spirit missed it? He’d been hunting the demon. It looked like the demon had found him instead.

Chapter Two

A muffled gurgle came from the far end of the barn. Carolina slowed her steps, recognizing the folly of running in blind. The sounds of an animal in distress made her stomach clench.

Did it have to do with the wolf? Had a second wolf slipped past her when her back had been turned to feed the horses? Only that didn’t explain the searing burn coming from her tattoo.

Slowly, she approached the last stall. From a window cut up high in the barn wall, the last remnants of daylight illuminated a crouched figure huddled over the prone body of her goat. She couldn’t see his face but his clothes were dusty and in tatters. He was most likely an illegal immigrant who had crossed the desert border between Mexico and America to seek a better life. A border crosser she could handle.

“
Señor,
” she spoke to the man softly in Spanish, “please keep your hands where I can see them.” She didn’t see a weapon, but she wasn’t taking any chances.

Her tattoo burned red hot as the man turned partially around, so only half his face appeared. Carolina gasped. Even in the dim light, she recognized those features. “Billy? What are you doing here? You son of a bitch!”

She’d fallen for the ranch hand’s pretty face and honeyed words, certain she’d found her forever after. The bastard had lured her into the barn one day and tied her up. By the time she got loose, she’d found he’d disappeared while her parents lay in the desert sand, murdered. Signs of a demon attack had been everywhere.

“How dare you?” she spat at him.

He smiled, a slow stretching of his lips. She despised him. What a fool she’d been.

And then he turned completely around, letting her see him.

Charred skin disfigured one side of his face, while a black, fathomless pit filled one empty eye socket. Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth.

Tzitzimime!

Instinctively she chanted an ancient Aztec protection prayer, passed down by her ancestors.
Tzitzimime
were demons, evil spirits that preyed on the weak, stole their bodies and devoured their souls. All those years ago, Billy must have made a deal with a demon and now he was one. Billy shrieked, a high-pitched sound that agitated the horses, causing them to rear up in their stalls and kick the wood. She chanted louder, taking one step after another closer to the evil being who possessed her former boyfriend’s body. Her heart pounded in her chest.

“In the name of my goddess, leave my land!” Carolina threw out her hand. Upon her birth, the goddess had gifted her with the elemental power of water. The power built, then fizzled, too weak to answer her need.
Stupid!
She had gone too long without replenishing her water supply. As a guardian of the sacred land of the Tohono O’odham tribe, she knew better than to get into this shape. Overtaxing herself had rendered her unable to protect her goddess.

A large streak of fur barreled past her. A low, menacing growl indicated the wolf had joined her.

Backed into a corner, and with the wolf snapping at his heels, Billy clawed his way up the barn walls. He hissed and spewed black smoke. She needed a source of water and fast. Carolina drew her fingertips across her brow, wiping up the perspiration. She flung the water droplets into the air, capturing the smoke and trapping it.

“Clever trick, Carolina,” the
tzitzimime
hissed, “but you are weak and I can feel it.”

Billy’s charred jaw dropped to his chest and he let out an ear-piercing shriek. The maniacal sound brought her to her knees. In vain she tried to block the noise with her hands. Pain vibrated in her brain. Her ears rang and nausea churned in her stomach. She peeked over at the wolf to see how it was faring in the attack.

It was gone. In the animal’s place stood a large, equally imposing broad-shouldered man, entirely in the nude.

She sucked in a breath. Her eyes took in the hard, lean muscles, tan skin covered with nicks and scars. A body honed from battle and made to be a weapon.

His head turned and she stared into the golden eyes of the wolf, and for the first time she really tasted fear.