Out of the Shadows: Shadow Warriors, Book 1

by Gabriella Hewitt

  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 rest
ing 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.

  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 thro
at. 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.