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DEDICATION AND ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
As always, first and foremost, this book
is dedicated to Cathy’s loving husband,
Don, and Cie’s equally loving son,
James. Also, to our family, friends, and
readers, and to all those people who
have made serious mistakes and have
owned up to them and tried to make it
right. It’s not easy, and it deserves
kudos.
Our thanks to all of the people who
help a book like this make it to print. To
our wonderful agents, Merrilee Heifetz
of Writers House and Lucienne Diver of
The Knight Agency, our brilliant
(blindingly) editor, Melissa Singer, and
all of the unsung heroes at Tor who work
so hard on our behalf. There are too
many to name, but we do appreciate
everything you do.
Finally, a brief nod to Angie, who
was kind enough to let us use her maiden
name for Bruno’s first love. We
appreciate it.
AUTHORS’ NOTE
The Guardians of the Faith do not exist.
We made them up. They are of no
particular religious conviction and
aren’t meant to depict any. We needed
an extremist group who would use
religion as an excuse for their actions, so
we created one. Because of where we
placed our fictional kingdom of Rusland
in Celia’s reality, King Dahlmar is a
member of the Russian Orthodox church,
but the Guardians of the Faith are not in
any way meant to be connected with that
or any other church in our reality. The
ritual Akkan is also a product of our
imagination. Too, while there is, sadly,
serious turmoil along parts of the
U.S./Mexico border in our reality, and
actual drug tunnels exist, the drug lords
in this book are not based on any actual
people, living or dead. The names were
made up at random based on common
Latino names. Similarly, the tunnels are
not based on any real locations.
Cathy is a big fan of comic books. Cie
is a huge fan of comics-based movies.
There are nods to both DC and Marvel
in this book, should you care to find
them.
Also, in case anyone was wondering,
the cat poster in the GA office exists.
Cie owns it. The sign about the end of
the tunnel is directly copied from a sign
posted on a student’s locker at a law
school where Cie worked over a decade
ago. Alas, we can only credit it as
“Anonymous,” but we know that we are
quoting.
CONTENTS
Title Page
Copyright Notice
Dedication and Acknowledgments
Authors’ Note
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Tor Paranormal Romance Books by C.
T. Adams and Cathy Clamp
About the Author
Copyright
1
We were running out of time.
We’d crawled into the tunnels two
hours ago, planning to be underground
for only an hour. We’d planned to use
the drug lord’s own ATVs—parked in
the main tunnel—to haul ass across the
border, arriving in the United States near
Calexico. It wasn’t a great plan, but
better than waiting for the cartel to tear
apart the village looking for us.
But things had changed. Roving
groups of guards had forced us into the
side tunnels. Luis had assured me they
would lead us to the same place and that
the trip would only take a little longer.
But we’d gotten turned around twice and
now there was only an hour left before
sunset.
“I need to rest, Celia. Please, can’t
we stop and sit down for a second?”
Serena’s whisper made me flinch and
I stole a moment to look at her face. She
was nearly as pale as the vampires I
feared would rise when night fell, and I
didn’t doubt she was in a lot of pain. I
eased some of my irritation by
remembering what it had felt like to
walk with a broken leg in a makeshift
splint.
“We don’t have much time, Serena.
We have got to get you to safety.” My
voice was likewise a whisper. It wasn’t
just that she was a nice person who
deserved to get home to her family in
Milwaukee, which she was—but she
was the last employee of MagnaChem’s
Mexico City plant and if she didn’t make
it out alive, I didn’t get paid my full fee.
She let out a small noise that was part
whimper and part swear. She stopped
walking and I had to as well unless I
planned to drag her. I couldn’t carry her
—the tunnel simply wasn’t big enough.
We had to crouch slightly to keep from
banging our heads on the support beams,
and two people barely fit, standing side
by side. Raising a hand to push the
sweaty hair from her face, Serena began
to beg. “I know. I do. But just five
minutes. Please. Don’t we have a charm
left?”
Maria turned and
looked at me with
concern. We did have one. But there was
a problem. “Yes, but we only have one
Blackout charm left and we need it to
cancel the noise of opening the tunnel
exit. We’ll be vulnerable when we
crawl out if anyone hears.”
Serena nodded and bit at her lip, then
took a deep breath of stale air and
stepped forward, leaning heavily on me,
trying not to drag her shoe through the
hard-packed dirt because noise echoed
down here. I could tell she was mulling
over the situation. I’d carried her in the
main tunnel, when I thought we were
going to use the ATVs. The main tunnels
were smooth and wide, with concrete
floors and excellent lighting. But this
branch was almost claustrophobically
narrow, the chiseled stone broken only
occasionally by hand-fitted support
beams of raw wood. The dim lighting
was from low-wattage bulbs strung on
wires along the ceiling, about half of
which actually worked. The ventilation
wasn’t great, either. I was sweating
my jacket was sticking to my body and
my bra was soaked.
Going into the tunnels where local
priests told us the vampires live had
been crazy. But desperate people take
insane risks. After six weeks in Mexico,
“desperate” was definitely a word that
described me.
Ahead of us, Luis raised his hand and
stopped cold. I likewise stopped while
he listened. If I weren’t so tired, I could
have amped up my hearing. One of the
nice things about being partially a
vampire was having enhanced senses.
But I was just so damned tired. It was
all I could do to keep trudging along.
Even my adrenaline rushes only brought
me back to near normal.
After a long moment, Luis eased
backward and lowered his voice to
where he could barely be heard. “We’re
nearing the main tunnel again, but there
are guards. If we stay here for five
minutes or so, they’ll pass and then we
can reenter the good tunnel.”
Beside me, Serena let out a relieved
breath. So, she would get her rest after
all. I took a breath and helped her to a
sitting position, making sure her leg
remained as straight as possible. It was
swelling badly but there wasn’t anything
we could do until we got to a doctor or
healer. I’d long ago expended every
charm in my medkit on the others I’d
already gotten to safety, ferrying them
one at a time across the border.
Maria, Luis, and I took up perimeter
positions in the near darkness. There
would be no rest for us. At least I’d had
the good sense to make sure a priest
blessed not only me, but also my
weapons and ammunition. Vampires
laugh off regular bullets. They don’t
laugh at holy items. They don’t find fire
amusing, either, which was why Luis
was wearing a homemade flamethrower.
I really, really, hoped he didn’t have
to use it. A blast from the flamethrower
would use up oxygen better left for
breathing, and I didn’t relish the thought
of a possible cave-in if one of the
support beams got badly damaged.
I shuddered in the dark, painfully
aware
of
the
not-quite-corpses
“sleeping” somewhere in the tunnels.
“I’m afraid of vampires,” Serena
whispered. “Present company excluded,
of course.”
I turned from watching behind us to
glance at her. “Any sane person is. I sure
am.” That seemed to surprise her enough
that I elaborated. “I’ve killed my share. I
wouldn’t be alive otherwise.” Even
though that was only partially true. “And
I am still alive. The master vampire who
bit me didn’t finish the job.” I have
prominent, pointed canines, death-pale
skin, and some enhanced healing
abilities, among other things. But I still
have my soul and mind. Most bats don’t.
That was another one of the reasons I
really wasn’t liking these tunnels. It
wasn’t just that I was afraid of feral
bats, I was afraid of becoming a feral
bat.
I felt, rather than saw, something in
the darkness. Maria stirred next to me,
just a little flutter of the rope that bound
us to each other so we didn’t wind up
getting separated.
“What’s the problem,
Graves?”
Maria’s voice was the barest breath of
sound in my ear, a surprise since she’s
under five foot one and I’m five foot ten
in my bare feet. I guessed she was
standing on her tiptoes. Luis likewise
moved closer until we were a mass of
bodies, like elephants circling the
wounded and vulnerable members of the
herd.
Maria Ruiz Ortega had started this
adventure as my guide. She’d felt she
owed me a favor after I saved her
brother Lorenzo’s life (and missed my
own flight out of what amounted to a war
zone because of it). Luis was her other
brother. They were astonishingly good
looking, charming when they wanted to
be, and absolutely deadly. Luis seemed
like he was probably full human, but
unless I missed my guess, with the full
moon, Maria shifted. Werewolves are
tough. Very tough. Between me, her, and
a good flamethrower, if there was a way
of getting out of this alive, we would.
I didn’t answer, just used my arm to
hold her back. Someone was coming.
They were moving very quietly, their
footfalls nearly silent on the smooth
concrete floor to our left. Sunset was
close and my inner vampire was ready
to come out to play. In the past year I’ve
gotten much better at controlling my
blood lust and other abilities. Stress
makes it harder, but here and now, they
were useful. I could smell the faint scent
of Maria’s soap, her brother’s sweat,
and the rubber inner tube we’d used to
secure Serena’s broken leg to the
boards.
More important, I could hear the
pounding of their hearts and the tiny,
frightened gasps from the wounded
woman on the floor. And another
heartbeat, one that was slow and steady.
And close.
Maria helped me get Serena to her
feet without even a whisper of noise. I
pulled one of my knives from its wrist
sheath and cut the rope that connected us.
If we had to fight, or run, we needed to
be able to move independently. Then we
&n
bsp; waited quietly.
There was a muffled crackle of radio
static from less than a foot away and
then a burst of Spanish that my mind
translated efficiently. “Garcia, do you
see them?” Before I came down here, my
Spanish had been minimal, but I learn
quick. I now understood every word
coming over the man’s radio earpiece
and every word he spoke.
“No. I’m only fifty yards from the exit
and there’s no sign of them. Either they
got away or they’re still back in the
tunnels somewhere. It’s almost dark.
What are our orders?”
A pause while we each held our
breath. “Two more minutes, then we
evacuate and seal the tunnels. If they’re
in here, the bats will take care of them.”
“What about the boss’s whore?”
“If the Abomination hasn’t already
eaten her, leave her. Paulo said he’s
tired of her bitching anyway.” There was
a muffled snort of laughter in front of me.
Maria stiffened beside me, her lips
peeling back from her teeth in a silent
snarl.
So, this had been a trap from the
beginning. Only the fact that I refused to
cooperate, hadn’t allowed myself to be
led where Maria had wanted to go, had
kept us alive this long.
There was a soft gasp from Luis as he
realized the truth. She had planned to
lead him to slaughter. But his gasp
wasn’t soft enough. I felt the air shift as
the man in front of me turned.
The moment he was in range, I leapt,
bringing my knife up at an angle. If he
was tall, it would catch him in the guts;
if average height, it would hit under the
ribs. I put my all of my weight behind the
attack, because if he was wearing a
spelled vest, the knife might not get
through at all.
He wasn’t tall, and the spells on his
vest weren’t a match for my strength,
along with the magic of a knife that
qualifies as a magical artifact all by
itself. The knife slid in and I felt his
weight start to sag as wetness poured out
over my hand. He tried to shove his gun
into me but I slammed my hand onto it
and his shots went down, ricocheting off
of the floor and into the alcove.
Luis swore in pain and startled anger,
and I smelled that he’d been hit by a
stray bullet. I was just glad none of the
ricochets had hit the tank strapped to his
back.
The scent of blood was everywhere.
My vision sharpened, my canines
elongated. Saliva filled my mouth. I