Out of the Shadows: Shadow Warriors, Book 1

by Gabriella Hewitt

  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.

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

  Carolina struggled to break free of his grip. She felt the strength i
n 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.

  His gaze speared her in place. “You bear the mark of a warrior.”

  The glowing mark of a hummingbird on the woman kept him transfixed. He needed to know more about her. In all his years, he had never stumbled upon a human who bore a warrior’s mark and had the power to call on the elements. She wielded water as masterfully as he wielded his weapon.

  “You have power, elemental power that I have never seen in a human. Just who are you?”

  “I don’t know what you mean.” Her voice came out low and musical, and he found it arousing.

  “You have power over the element of water and you bear a huitzilin, the hummingbird mark. You are no ordinary woman.”

  She laughed at that, a melodic sound tinged with sadness. “Believe me, I am quite ordinary. From sunup to sundown I run this ranch. I rarely get into town and the last man I dated was someone I deeply regret.” She went to move, tugging at her hands still trapped within his one.

  Tomás kept his grip firm. She had shown no fear or surprise at his appearance nor had she backed down from fighting an evil spirit. She was a puzzle he badly wanted to solve. He also didn’t like hearing about other men. A primitive sense of possessiveness swept over him.

  “Tell me your name.” His words came out clipped, harsher than he intended. Thoughts of other men sniffing around her made his muscles tense and put his wolf on alert. He forced himself to relax slowly.

  She narrowed her eyes and thrust her jaw out mulishly. “I told you already. Carolina.”

  “Carolina.” Her name rolled off his tongue.

  “And you are?”

  “Tomás.”

  She gave him a wry smile. “Somehow I doubt that is your first name, shadow warrior.”

  Tomás felt the beast in him rise up in defense. It growled for caution. He paid no heed to the animal’s instinct. He was intrigued.

  “How do you know of shadow warriors?” He pushed closer, almost on top of her, the wolf peering out through his eyes.

  The woman didn’t back down. She showed strength.

  “My mother was from the Tohono O’odham tribe—the people of the desert. She shared many stories about your kind from legends passed down from one generation to the next. Immortal warriors for the sun god, Huitzilopochtli, sent to earth to destroy the celestial demons, tzizimime.”

  Tomás nodded. It explained why she had not turned and fled like most humans would have when he transformed from a wolf to a man. The heat of her mark drew him closer, the sensation searing his fingertips. The wolf knew only of survival, but this close to Carolina, the man in him knew of another instinct, a deeper hunger. He wanted to taste her lips and drink in her sweet power, which he could feel washing over him, calming the beast inside. In the five hundred years since giving his soul to Huitzilopochtli, he had never desired to get close to another human as he did with Carolina. He should be chasing a demon, not chasing a woman.

  But she wasn’t just any woman. More than ever, he felt he had found his spirit mate.

  The wolf pushed at his insides, reminding him that the beast was never far away and that he was never as free as he wished. “You seem to know much about me. But you have yet to tell me who you are.”

  There was curiosity in his voice, and respect. His fingers lightly brushed her tattoo and she shivered in response. Her entire body reacted to this man. She didn’t understand any of it and she didn’t like being off balance. She needed time and distance to think.

  “I need to tend to my goat.” She nodded towards the goat shaking in the corner.

  She scrambled to her feet. This time he let her. She grabbed a lead and attached it to Pepe’s collar, using it to tug the goat out of the barn and into the corral with the others. Its pitiful bleating tore at her heart, reminding her of all she still had to lose if she let herself get distracted.

  Tomás emerged from the barn doorway, the bloody corpse of Tito in his arms. She sucked in a breath to contain the pain ripping through her chest. How many of those she loved would she have to lose in this fight?

  She shook the thought loose, feeling guilt for even thinking such a thing. Her role as guardian required sacrifice. There was no other way.

  As Tomás approached Carolina, she turned on her boot heels and silently headed for a patch of land dominated by a huge juniper tree. Tall and strong, the tree had overseen the birth and death of generations of her people. It had managed to survive despite the scarcity of water, but each day the river dried up and the earth cried out in thirst, and Carolina knew their days were numbered.

  She gestured to a spot far enough from the tree that it would not catch fire. Tomás laid his burden down. “I just realized I don’t even have kindling or a light. What was I thinking?” She hiccupped and blindly stared out across the dark desert horizon—anything to avoid looking down at the pet she’d raised from a baby.

  “Your pain disturbs me. I do not like it.” As he frowned at her, his body bowed over and reshaped. Under the light of the full moon, Carolina watched in awe, unable to tear her eyes from the ripple of muscles, the incredible transformation taking place in front of her. One minute he was a man and the next he was a large gray wolf.

  The wolf stared at her with such directness she felt a shiver rise from her toes and climb all the way up her spine. She backed up, allowing the beautiful beast room. Something in the wolf’s gaze reminded her that at heart it was a predator.

  The wolf used its huge paws to dig a pit large enough to lay Tito to rest. Carolina watched, captivated by the animal’s power.

  “Thank you.” Overcoming her unease, Carolina reached out her hand to touch the wolf. It laid its ears back and shied away. She dropped her hand to her side.

  Carolina made a quick trip to the barn to grab a pair of work gloves she kept by the door and some matches. With her hands protected from the demon’s poison, she put her energy into rolling Tito into the grave. She gathered brush and bits of kindling to throw on top. The wolf aided her by clasping twigs and branches in its teeth and releasing them over the pit. She peeled off the gloves and tossed them in as well. Her fingers trembled as she lit a match and threw it on the wood. She chanted the words of an ancient Aztec prayer, determined to send the soul of her animal companion to a better place. When finished, she bowed her head and fought off the tears. Bathed by the light of the moon, the two of them waited for Tito’s body to be consumed by the flames. On her knees, she continued to pray to her goddess, asking for strength and wisdom in the fight ahead. Vaguely, she became aware of the wolf tossing dirt back into the hole once the fire had died out.

  She raised her head and observed the transformation from beast to man. She realized he was again completely nude and she couldn’t take her eyes off him. She had never seen a man naked before. Even with the four jagged claw marks marring his stomach, he had the kind of body artists immortalized in paint and clay. Embarrassment crept up into her cheeks.

  His gaze rested on her thoughtfully before he clothed himself in black jeans, leaving his chest bare, his entire demeanor speaking loudly of hi
s ease with nudity. She was both relieved and disappointed. Disturbed by her thoughts, she made to get up. Tomás held his hand out to her. She tentatively laid her palm on his and let him help her to her feet.

  She’d been prepared for the tingle she’d felt before, not the surge of electricity that shot through her system. His eyes went from amber to golden and she thought she caught the sound of a growl in his throat.

  She tried to pull her hand from his, but he wouldn’t let go. Instead he tugged her closer until she was scant inches from his chest. His hand slipped behind her neck to cup her nape.

  “You are an unusual cihuatl.”

  Carolina shook her head, which was difficult given her position. “You persist in saying that, but it is not true. I am a plain, simple woman.”

  “There is nothing simple about you. I am determined to learn everything about you.”

  “But you can’t—” Carolina cried, only to be cut off by Tomás’s mouth coming down on hers.

  Sparks shot through his bloodstream, igniting a fire that could easily blaze out of control. He hadn’t kissed a woman in five centuries. Carnal thoughts had disappeared once he’d joined the ranks of the shadow warriors. Amazingly, those thoughts were now back with a vengeance.

  Carolina melted into him.

  She wound her arms around his neck. Her lips softened and opened, allowing him to slip inside. She tasted of innocence, determination and strength.

  The air around them swirled with energy. The atmosphere crackled with it. Power seemed to move over and around them, weaving a spell they could not escape. Memories of his family, his childhood and his battles as an Aztec warrior flooded his mind in rapid succession, triggering an emotional tidal wave that threatened to engulf them both.

  His wolf lunged to the surface, the move aggressive, instinctual and entirely territorial.