Out of the Shadows: Shadow Warriors, Book 1 (2 page)

Her head whirling with the implications, she barely heard the whispered command that clothed him in boots and black jeans, but left him bare-chested.

A shadow warrior. A legend.

Her goddess had spoken of the shadow warriors with reverence and fear. A wave of trepidation gripped her. Was the shadow warrior’s presence a coincidence or did the Aztec sun god suspect the truth?

The high-pitched cackle of the demon grounded her.

Speculation would have to wait. Once again, her land and her life were being threatened. Tonight she would fight to protect her home and her secrets.

And, goddess willing, she wouldn’t die while doing it.

“
Tzitzimime
,” Tomás’s voice boomed inside the barn, “it’s my duty to see you back to where you belong.” The misshapen man spewing poison had once been human—only now the rotted corpse was a vessel filled by the demon’s spirit
.
The Aztec celestial demons were bent on destroying the world and his god,
Huitzilopochtli
.

The wolf in him raised its head, snarled and pushed for dominance. Tomás felt it clawing for freedom, the animal dangerously close to the surface. His fingers curled at his sides and the edges of his vision deteriorated. He battled his wolf for control. His body bowed forward, but he fought back.

His wolf retreated, yet Tomás knew they’d be at it again soon. One of these days, he’d lose the battle permanently. Then he would be no better than a
tzitzimime
, a spirit trapped within another body, traveling the world without purpose, without honor.

The demon made gibberish sounds as he climbed higher up the wall, obviously searching for a way to escape.

“Working together, we can box him in.” The woman’s bell-like tones cut through the demon’s harsh sounds, a soothing balm that touched Tomás’s soul and calmed the beast within.

“Get out of here,
cihuatl
. I will deal with him.” He didn’t wait to see if the woman obeyed.

With his feet braced apart, one arm raised, he let out a warrior’s cry that filled the night sky. “
Macuahuitl!
” Into his hand appeared a wooden sword with obsidian blades embedded along the sides, the volcanic flint sharpened to lethal points. He brought his other hand up and two-fisted the four-foot weapon, holding it like a bat just above his shoulder. The
macuahuitl
could decapitate a horse. Lately, Tomás preferred tearing into demons with claws and teeth and then dragging the broken, evil spirit back to the netherworld. This time, though, he had an audience. The sword produced less gore.

The demon hissed, his mouth a slash in the skin stretched tightly over one half of his skull, a stark contrast to the purity of the right side of his face. Tomás prepared to swing, when he realized the woman had not moved. “Stay back!”

He growled low in his throat. Why hadn’t she done as he ordered? Most humans did as he commanded, his will overriding theirs.

She shocked him further by chanting in the ancient language of his people. The words floated in the air, filling the chamber with power. How had she come by her knowledge? She chanted, her hands up, palms out as she walked directly towards the demon.

Tomás stepped in front of her, blocking her path. “Do not!” Fury coursed through him at her recklessness. The move put him too close to the demon. With the woman directly behind him, he didn’t have enough room to maneuver his sword arm.

The demon’s mouth opened, his jaws unhinging like a snake’s, and a stream of fire burst forth. Tomás raised the
macuahuitl
to protect them both. The heat of the flames still managed to sear his skin as he used his free arm to sweep the woman out of harm’s way and throw them both to the floor. He twisted as they fell, tossing his weapon aside to prevent either of them being sliced open by the blades. He took the brunt of the fall, landing hard on his shoulder.

“Run,” he ordered. She was a distraction and she was in danger every second she spent around the demon.

“Not a chance,” she shot back as she scrambled to her feet. “He’s mine to fight.” Her eyes were wide and round—not with fear, but something else—determination and anger. In all the centuries of his existence, he’d never met a woman as bullheaded as her.

“Woman, move out of the way!”

The demon pounced. Tomás rolled over and kicked out his legs, slamming into the dead man’s ribs. Bone cracked and snapped, but it did little to faze the demon possessing the mortal’s body. As Tomás got to his feet, the demon attacked, slashing with his sharp claws. Tomás felt each jagged nail rip into his gut. Blood spurted and he staggered back.

Billy
moved with incredible speed, grasping her neck with a one-handed grip and lifting her up into the air. His hot, foul breath poured over her. Carolina kicked out feebly. She called up her powers, but they were weak and unable to respond. She needed water. And he knew it.

Her breath labored as the
tzitzimime
squeezed. Clawed fingers sliced through her denim shirt, exposing her tattoo. Dainty and inked with the colors of the Sonoran desert, her hummingbird tattoo began to glow, the light brighter than the moon and twice as hot as the sun. Billy shrieked and tossed her. She hit a stall gate and slid down to the floor. Behind her, she heard a horse kick out, splintering the wooden slats. Something clattered to the ground—the feed bucket from the sound of grains spilling out in a loud whoosh. If she could reach the water bucket, she might have a chance.

She clutched her head and gasped for breath as pain from the knock on her head bounced around her skull. She had to get back up and fight. She had to protect her land. Billy had nearly destroyed her five years ago. His betrayal had cost her the lives of her parents and had almost led to the annihilation of her goddess. The ravages of that fateful day remained evident in the scars on the land, the drying up of large reservoirs of water and the gaping hole in her heart.

Rage flooded her system, giving her the energy to pull herself up from the floor, using the stall gate for support. There’d been lesser demons sniffing around since that day. She should’ve guessed it was in preparation for a big attack. Her mare lashed out again. Carolina had no time to calm the animal. She reached over the stall gate and dipped her hand in the horse’s water bucket hooked to the door. She soaked up the elemental power. Its energy renewed her and she headed once more into battle. She pitched like a baseball player. The demon shrieked and scurried to avoid being hit with the hard, speeding balls of water.

She would make Billy pay. For her parents, for her goddess, for herself, she would see him in hell.

Pain gripped Tomás, and he pressed his hand against the wound. Blood poured through his fingers. He was a warrior and the injury was not life-threatening. He had to secure the demon fast before he caused more damage.

His wolf snarled, moving under his skin, pushing its way up to the surface and blurring his vision. He fought the change. Hurt as he was, in wolf form, Tomás would be unable to control the beast and the wolf spirit did not discriminate. If he succumbed to the wolf, the woman would be in danger. Tomás got to his feet and forced his wolf to retreat temporarily.

The woman stood tall, without fear. As she lobbed water at the demon, she chanted louder, and the air swelled with power. Her words were like music to his ears—he could feel his body move with the rhythm and skill of his ancestors. He grabbed his sword and charged the demon. Raising the weapon above his head, he swung downward. The obsidian blades tore through skin and bone. The
tzitzimime
’s arm thudded to the ground. The tainted blood that spilled from the severed limb ignited the barn floor. Acrid black smoke rose rapidly, engulfing the barn. The animals panicked.

Water cascaded in an arc above his head and landed on the fire but did little to contain the blaze.

The red-hot inferno licked the sides of the barn. Smoke swirled around them. Tomás turned back to confront his enemy only to find the demon escaping, leaving the severed, bloody arm behind.

“Help me!” The woman had stopped hurling water and was trying to put the fire out with a blanket.

His number one duty was to capture the demon. Five hundred years ago, the Aztec sun god
Huitzilopochtli
had chosen him to join an elite cadre of warriors, called shadow warriors, to track down and fight evil spirits and to be a shield between humanity and evil. In all these centuries, duty had always come first.

“Please, hurry!”

Her voice pierced his heart, when he hadn’t thought he had a heart left. The beautiful woman with dark eyes pleading for his assistance had somehow claimed a part of his soul that he believed had been all but devoured by his wolf spirit. A small light of humanity remained like a tiny flicker in the distance. His wolf growled, pulling him towards the chase, but Tomás hesitated. He would risk
Huitzilopochtli’s
wrath with what he was contemplating.

He willed his sword away and ran to her side, and for the first time in centuries, he allowed his enemy to escape.

Chapter Three

Working together, they quickly put out the fire. Ashes and smoke made Carolina’s eyes water and a film of sweat covered her body. She ignored the discomfort. She also ignored the shadow warrior standing nearby. She appreciated his help, but she needed him gone. She turned her attention to the animals still spooked by the
tzitzimime
and the fire.

She spoke to each one gently before leading the animal outside to the corral. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched the shadow warrior. No words left his lips, but she’d swear he communicated to the animals—their submissiveness was most unusual.

She latched the corral gate and took a deep breath. One…no, make that two more to go. A moan hitched in her throat and she hastily swallowed it.

She wanted to cry but refused to give in. Every drop of liquid was precious. She would need her strength if she were to fight the
tzizimime
again…Billy.

She’d thought that slimy bastard gone, maybe demon food. Now he was back in her life, her worst nightmare revisited, a vivid reminder of her biggest failure and all she still had to lose.

A demon. A shadow warrior. Both on her land. What had drawn them here? She wanted to believe in coincidence, but she wasn’t stupid.

The shadow warrior watched her, his gaze inscrutable. What was he thinking?

Really, it was all too much, she thought as she trudged back to the barn, her silent shadow following in her footsteps. She needed to find a way to make him leave.

Inside the barn, the stench of charred wood filled her nostrils. The electric lamp that hung on the wall cast a stark glare over the damage. It would require hard work and money she didn’t have to restore it. Carolina pushed aside her distress and headed directly for the last stall.

She slipped into the cubicle, found a spot in the hay not soaked in blood and knelt. Tears clogged her throat and swam in her eyes as she looked upon the slain corpse of Tito, her goat. Pepe, his brother, huddled in the far corner, bleating softly.

Memories of the last time she’d had to deal with death overcame her. Images of the broken, mutilated bodies of her parents strewn out on the hot desert floor were forever burned into her mind. She’d barely taken in their mangled condition, a cry torn from her lips, when the demon had pounced. She’d fought him off, but he’d been strong, stronger than any other she had ever fought, the infusion of death in the air lending the demon strength. She would have joined her parents that day had it not been for her goddess joining her in the fight. Carolina pinched the bridge of her nose and breathed deeply, forcing the memories to retreat. She reached down, intending to pick up the lifeless body, when she was brushed aside. Startled, she glanced up to see the shadow warrior squatting beside her.

“Why do you weep for this animal? It is just a beast.”

His tone held no condemnation, but she found herself bristling anyway. “I am not crying. That doesn’t mean Tito—”

“Your soul weeps for him. I can feel it in here.” He thumped his chest.

Anger and grief mixed together. “I raised him from a kid. I won’t let Billy, a
tzitzimime
, take another family member away from me. Tito was family.”

The shadow warrior nodded, but she sensed that family had little meaning to him, when to her it meant everything.

“You must destroy the carcass. The demon’s blood carries evil that can seep into the ground and spread its poison.”

“I know.” She swallowed the lump in her throat. She was holding on to her control by a thread. Her world felt bleak and desolate. Why had she been chosen as a guardian? Water was supposed to bring life, not destruction. She looked down at the small, helpless animal. Another life lost because she had failed. How much more devastation could she withstand? She reached out to put her hands under the body, only to find them trapped between the shadow warrior’s two larger ones.

“C
ihuatl
, were you not listening? It is poison.”

Carolina struggled to break free of his grip. She felt the strength in his hands, the roughness that was testament to the work he did. A tingle traveled up her palm and along her nerve endings. The hummingbird on her shoulder pulsated, but it didn’t hurt. Instead, she felt warm and fuzzy like she’d had one too many drinks at the local watering hole. She ignored the throb of her tattoo, glaring at him for all she was worth. “I am not stupid. I know very well what I am doing. And stop calling me
woman
,” she snapped. “My name is Carolina.”

“You do not fear me, do you? Nor do you cower in the face of a
tzitzimime
. Yet you are human. Why is that?”

Her breath caught in her chest. He was right. She didn’t fear him. Since the moment he’d stepped onto her land, he had mesmerized her. The heat of his hands warmed the cold thoughts of death and dissipated her anger.

Before she could sputter any kind of response, one of his hands whipped up and pushed the ripped material of her denim shirt aside, where it had been sliced open by the claws of the
tzitzimime
.