Blood and Sand

by Elizabeth Hunter

  Contents

  Blood and Sand

  Title Page

  Dedication

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgements

  Copyright

  About the Author

  Bibliography

  Other Work

  The second novel in the Elemental World series by Elizabeth Hunter:

  BLOOD AND SAND

  Dead women are showing up in the desert east of San Diego, and no one understands why. When the story comes to the attention of reporter Natalie Ellis, she can’t help but make comparisons to tragic deaths she’d investigated years ago. Are these women the victims of a serial killer, or something even more insidious?

  Bodies may be piling up in his sire’s territory, but water vampire and feared enforcer Baojia is stuck entertaining the rich and clueless at a club in San Diego. He’s taken his exile with all the grace he could muster, but his patience is starting to thin.

  Sparks fly when mortal and immortal are thrown together, and Natalie comes face-to-face with a reality that was lurking in the corners of her life. Pursuing the truth could cost Baojia everything, including the mortal woman who has earned his grudging respect.

  BLOOD AND SAND is the second novel in the expanded Elemental World series by Elizabeth Hunter, author of the best-selling Elemental Mysteries.

  BLOOD AND SAND

  An Elemental World Novel

  ELIZABETH HUNTER

  TO KRISTY

  An amazing writer,

  An amazing reader,

  And a better friend than I deserve.

  This one is for you.

  PROLOGUE

  San Francisco, 1884

  Don Ernesto Alvarez strolled through the streets of Chinatown, his favorite daughter on his arm. The scent of human waste mingled with exotic spices and cooking fires. On the evening fog, he could smell the ocean and the scent of fish from the bay. The mist swirled around him, teasing his energy with its call. At his side, he felt his daughter’s blood pulse.

  “What is it?”

  Her fangs dropped. Paula was only twenty years immortal and often had a harder time controlling her cravings.

  “Blood.” Her nose lifted in the air. “Fresh. There’s a fight somewhere.”

  Ernesto gave her an indulgent smile. “Shall we? The opium was disappointing. We might as well see if there are other entertainments before we return to our lodging.”

  Their safe quarters that night were with a trusted ally of Ernesto’s, Ekaterina Grigorieva, a water vampire who controlled much of the Pacific Northwest. While her headquarters had recently moved to the growing city of Seattle, Katya still chose to meet with allies in San Francisco. Ernesto had traveled up the coast of California with Paula, looking for amusement in the lively city along with a more favorable price on lumber for his ships.

  Ernesto let Paula lead him down the alley, which smelled of fish and laundry soap, to see a surprisingly interesting sight.

  It was a human, a Chinese man, which was not surprising as they were in the section of the city overwhelmed by the foreigners. What was surprising was the flurry of activity surrounding him. It looked like the human had been thrown out the back door of a gambling hall. He must have displeased the proprietor somehow. But instead of the beating that would have been common from the four other men surrounding him, Ernesto watched, intrigued, as the human held off his four attackers with swift punches that almost appeareere>_d to flow at immortal speed.

  Punches turned into kicks. The four humans who had thrown the man out were not without their strengths, and blood was flowing. He heard Paula whine at his side, eager to taste it, but Ernesto put a hand on her arm, stilling her. He wanted to watch a bit longer.

  The human was abnormally fast. He did not try to hold off his attackers, but let them draw close, then used swift punches to knock them back. And throughout it all, his face was a mask of impassive focus. He seemed almost bored, despite the bruise that was forming on one cheek, another on his eye, and the blood that dripped from his mouth to his chin. His face said one thing, but the coiled tension in his body said something entirely different.

  What exquisite anger.

  Ernesto felt his fangs drop, and he took Paula’s hand, slowly walking closer to the fight.

  The humans didn’t notice, so focused were they on their own bloody feud. Despite his skill, the lone human was starting to falter; four opponents were simply too much for him. Still, he fought on, showing no signs of capitulation. Ernesto wondered whether the other humans would kill the man. That would be a shame. He was a fine specimen, and his blood was rich with the smell of the ocean.

  “Paula,” he said quietly, reluctant to interrupt the fight.

  She hissed, “Yes?”

  “Stop them.”

  He could feel her trembling in anticipation. “May I drink, Father?”

  “Drink your fill from the four, but leave the fighting one for me.”

  In the space of a blink, Paula was on them, dragging one human back to a dark corner and piercing his neck with her fangs. The copper smell of blood filled the alley, drowning out the smell of garbage and fish. The three remaining men did not notice the loss of their friend; they were more focused on the slowly weakening Chinese man. The lone human did notice the absence of one of his attackers, and he scanned the alley, all the while holding off the three other men as best he could. Finally, his eyes paused on the mist-clad form of Ernesto and he blinked.

  One of the attackers knocked him to the ground at that point, but within seconds, that man was gone as well. Paula had grabbed him and latched on to his neck, letting his sounds of struggle fill the air.

  “Paula,” Ernesto chided. “We do not wish for attention.”

  Immediately, the man grew limp in her arms and fell silent. By this point, the two remaining humans who had been beating the Chinese man had turned to see what the commotion was. Their eyes grew wide and their mouths dropped open in horror as they watched their fellow human crumble to the ground. One darted for the door of the gambling hall, but Paula was already there. He didn’t even have time to scream. The other made for the mouth of the alley, his voice pitched high as he yelled for help, but Ernesto caught him by the hand and squeezed. The man fell silent, his mind flooded by Ernesto’s powerful amnis.

  He stepped closer to the Chinese man, handing Paula the human’s hand as she finished drinking his comrade.

  “What are you?” the human asked in perfect English.

  “You speak very well.” It was true. He had a distinct accent, but his words were clear. “What is your name?”

  “What are you?” the human asked again, wiping the blood from his eyes and inching toward the dark street.

  “How did you learn to fight like that? It was
fascinating and very effective.”

  The man never took his eyes offrewhis eye Ernesto, but he straightened a little. “My father taught me to fight.”

  “He would be proud.”

  “No.” The man was inching along the grimy brick wall. “He wouldn’t.”

  There it was again, just a flicker in the human’s eyes. Such exquisite anger. What would it be like with immortal power behind it? What would it take to leash the power of such a creature? Ernesto’s blood pumped in his veins and he bared his fangs at the thought. The human saw his opportunity and ran out of the alley, silently fleeing the vampires and disappearing into the night. Paula appeared at his side half a second later.

  “You didn’t drink, Father.”

  He turned and smiled, patting her cheek and taking his handkerchief from his pocket to dab at a spot of blood on her chin. “I’m not hungry for blood tonight, mi querida. Did you enjoy yourself?”

  “Sí, Papá. Gracias.”

  “Good. Now that you’ve had your fill…” Ernesto finished tending to his child, then his eyes grew cold as he turned to the foggy night. “Find the human, Paula. And bring him to me.”

  CHAPTER ONE

  San Diego, 2013

  The lights of the club pulsed red and gold as he swirled the ice in the glass in front of him. The frozen water turned and twisted, spinning the liquid in his glass into a small whirlpool that splashed over the edge of the cut crystal. His amnis caught the drops that fell to the table and quickly slid them back in the glass, leaving the polished wood unmarked. The music, the abysmally loud techno and pop that the patrons preferred, flowed around him as he sat in the black leather booth, watching.

  Baojia was always watching.

  Humans danced in a mass like one pulsing organism. Skin. Heat. Sweat. The mingled scents of blood and alcohol filled his nose, but he had already fed that night, a pretty young co-ed who would have no memory of his teeth in her neck. He would have indulged in more, but the girl had too much alcohol in her blood, so he pushed her back toward her friends, who only giggled and winked at him.

  Idiotic humans. Baojia was painfully bored.

  The club in San Diego, Boca, was his sire’s pride and joy. It had been recently remodeled, thanks to Baojia’s presence. He had nothing better to do, after all. He was stuck in San Diego, having a time-out like a rebellious toddler. The first year had been deserved; he had taken his exile with stoic grace. After all, it had been his failure that had led to the death of Ernesto’s kinsman and his negligence caused Ernesto’s favorite granddaughter grave injury. Beatrice De Novo had been under his protection, and he had failed in his mission.

  No, the first year had been well deserved.

  The second year as well. Perhaps.

  Baojia had been in San Diego for three years. Beatrice De Novo had recovered—rather admirably—and had settled with her mate in Los Angeles. She had probably forgotten about him. Forgotten the years he had watched over her while the damnable Italian had been jaunting around the world. It wasn’t Giovanni Vecchio who had protected the young human, it was Baojia. For four years, she had been his assignment. Her safety hadn’t been his only job, but it had been a priority. It still stung that she had no idea the lengths to which he had gone.

  History. He took another sip of water. It was history. He had more important things to worry about. Like how to relieve thing s excruciating boredom and convince his sire to release him from the hell on earth of college children who thought they ruled the world.

  “Boss?”

  He turned at the sound of his assistant’s voice. “What is it, Luis?”

  “Do you know a woman named Natalie Ellis?”

  He frowned. “Human?”

  “Yeah.”

  “No.”

  “Okay, I figured.” Luis patted the back of the booth in the VIP area of the club, which took up the balcony. “I’ll tell her to take off.”

  He shrugged. “Let her stay and keep drinking as long as she’s not causing a scene.”

  “Okay. She’s at the bar if you want to look. Redhead in a black dress. Cute, if you like freckles.”

  His mouth turned up at the corner. “How sweet.”

  “Yeah…” Luis chuckled. “Something tells me… not. Oh, and here’s the report from the casino. Jared dropped it off earlier. You still meeting with Rory at two?”

  He nodded. “Make sure my office is clear and show him in as soon as he arrives. What time is it?”

  “Eleven.”

  He stretched his neck to the side in a completely habitual gesture. He didn’t need to stretch any more than he needed to drink the water in front of him. Still, those little signals all put the humans around him at ease. “Wonderful. It’s busy tonight.”

  “Back to school, Boss.” Luis grinned. “A fresh crop of newly legal eye candy.”

  He often forgot how young Luis was. The human was only twenty-five, the son of one of Ernesto’s longtime human employees. The don of Los Angeles was nothing if not loyal. He kept the fealty of his human servants for generations, which had served him well in the rapidly changing atmosphere of Southern California.

  “Get back to work being charming, Luis. And keep an eye on the new bartender. I think he’s pouring a little heavy for the more attractive female patrons.”

  Like the redhead in the black dress who was definitely not a co-ed.

  As soon as Luis had mentioned red hair, his eyes had searched for her. From his perch in the corner, Baojia could observe three of the four doors in the club. A monitor in the corner watched the other. He could see the bar, and the mirror behind it let him see each and every movement of the humans tending it. The DJ’s booth was elevated and also monitored by a camera that fed into a small screen he could see from his seat.

  The dance floor took up most of the main level, lined by booths that were reservation only. The VIP area in the balcony was even more exclusive. Boca had become the premiere nightclub in downtown San Diego, and Baojia had remodeled it with security in mind. If he had to be stuck in a tiny corner of his sire’s kingdom, that corner would be the most secure in Ernesto’s territories.

  Baojia stood at the balcony and watched the redhead, who was sipping a clear cocktail with two limes. Her hair was a tumble of red waves; very attractive, he had to admit. Her pale shoulders were bare, but the rest of her dress hugged her curves. She was of medium height and had an athletic build. Not slight and girlish like the children on the dance floor. She was around thirty in human years if he had to guess. She stood out for that alone. Her dress and makeup fit the club; the intelligent eyes that scanned the room and ignored the males surrounding her did not.

  Natalie Ellis.

  He didn’t know her, but she was intre tshe wasiguing. She’d asked for him, specifically? He’d have to ask Luis. Very few humans knew his name.

  Who are you, Natalie Ellis? He narrowed his gaze as she checked her mobile phone, punched something in, then slipped it back in her purse. It was a large purse, the kind a professional woman carried, not a girl out clubbing. Right dress. Right jewelry and makeup. Wrong purse.

  “You’re a pretty liar, aren’t you?” he murmured, his hands hanging in the pockets of his perfectly tailored black suit. Baojia abhorred ill-fitting clothes. “And how do you know my name?”

  He saw Luis approach and touch the woman’s shoulder. She turned, her polite smile slowly turning down. She was annoyed. Her eyes flicked up to the balcony and met his. He cocked his head as they held. Curious. Most humans wouldn’t hold his gaze for long; some instinct always told them to look away from the predator. Not her. Her eyes kept right on his. Challenging. Tempting.

  Very curious.

  She kept watching him as she reached back and grabbed her cocktail. She tilted the glass up, and her throat undulated as she swallowed, the pale skin glowing in the red lights of the club. Never taking her eyes off him, she finished her drink and set the glass down, then finally turned back to Luis. She reached in her too-large purse, han
ded Luis a card, then stood. Baojia watched her until she left through the crowded front doors. Then he turned and sat down again, pulling out the report about the casino in the desert near El Centro.

  Baojia stifled the groan when he opened the file and saw the first column of numbers that filled it.

  He had to get back to LA.

  Rory McNair was already sitting in a chair and drinking a glass of blood in his office when Baojia escaped the still-lively club at two. His sister Paula’s husband was a casual man. He and Baojia had been turned within twenty years of each other and always had a good relationship, though Rory’s allegiance was to Paula first. The two had been mated for over one hundred years. Of all Ernesto’s children, it was Paula, Rory, and Baojia whom their father trusted most. Well, until the Chinese disaster, as Rory referred to it.

  “How you doing, brother?”

  Baojia shrugged. “I’m bored. Watching college kids and redecorating nightclubs gets old. How are you?”

  “Overworked and living with an annoyed wife.” Rory’s grey mustache twitched. “How did you manage all this shit and still have a life?”

  Since Baojia had been exiled, the majority of the security for Ernesto’s large territory had fallen to Rory’s hands. Paula was the businesswoman. Baojia had been the security. Rory was mostly a man of leisure, so the sudden weight of responsibility for a region stretching from Northern Mexico to Central California was not a welcome addition to his life.

  “I didn’t have a life, remember?” He smiled. “I suppose I should be grateful for the vacation, but I just find myself obsessing over all the problems that could be cropping up in my absence.” He raised a quick hand. “Not that I don’t trust you. I just know that it’s a lot. Have there been any more problems in the mountains?”

  “Nothing much.” Rory twisted the tip of his mustache and leaned back in his chair, blood forgotten. “They’re still growin’ up there, but the gang activity has been contained.” Marijuana production in the Southern California mountains was hardly something Ernesto usually worried about, but the infiltration of gangs from Northern Mexico was. It was not uncommon for other vets for otampire leaders to send in criminal gangs they controlled to test the resolve of their neighbors. Problems out of the ordinary had to be dealt with swiftly and decisively in order to maintain a leader’s position and authority. Baojia worried that Rory wasn’t taking it seriously enough.