Shadow Visions

When the last shadow warrior falls, so will all humanity. Shadow Warriors, Book 2 A shadow warrior on a mission, Manuel...

Author: Hewitt Gabriella

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When the last shadow warrior falls, so will all humanity. Shadow Warriors, Book 2 A shadow warrior on a mission, Manuel must track down a demon who is sacrificing women marked with hummingbird tattoos. He is in danger of losing his humanity to his eagle spirit until he comes across Ixa Reyes, a beautiful San Diego detective working on the same case, who also bears the mark of the Aztec sun god. She is his salvation and redemption from a past filled with failure. Only she wants nothing to do with him or her heritage. When a demon kidnaps her grandfather, the wind god, they must work together to save him and all mankind. Manuel has twenty-four hours to help Ixa control her elemental power over wind—that is if he can control his own desires to claim her body and soul. Because if he should fail this time, the god of war will usher in a new era filled with blood and destruction such as the world has never known. Warning: This story contains an ancient Aztec warrior struggling to control the beast within, a heroine more than able to match his strength, demons out for their very souls, and a battle that may very well determine the fate of all humanity.

eBooks are not transferable. They cannot be sold, shared or given away as it is an infringement on the copyright of this work. This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental. Samhain Publishing, Ltd. 11821 Mason Montgomery Road Suite 4B Cincinnati OH 45249 Shadow Visions Copyright © 2012 by Gabriella Hewitt ISBN: 978-1-60928-759-7 Edited by Mary Hamilton Cover by Scott Carpenter All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. First Samhain Publishing, Ltd. electronic publication: March 2012 www.samhainpublishing.com

Shadow Visions Gabriella Hewitt

Dedication

To Mary Hamilton, editor extraordinaire. Your sharp eyes catch what we miss and you always have valuable insight to add that makes the story much stronger. Most importantly, you believe in our voice and in our concept. There aren’t enough ways in the English language to say thanks, but you’ve got them all. We’d also like to give acknowledgment to the following people for their assistance in getting the details right. A big "thank you" goes to Margaret Taylor, former CHP officer and DHJ special agent. You didn’t blink when I mixed paranormal occurrences with police procedure. Like all of my chapter mates at RWASD, you rock and when I get back to California, the drinks are on me. Thanks are also in store for Tom Adair, retired senior criminologist and author. Your blog is bookmarked and each post saved. I appreciate the help you gave on blood testing and I know I’ll be asking more questions in the future.

Chapter One

Ixa kicked at the sheets tangling about her legs and snapped her eyes open. Unnatural humidity suffocated her. She gasped for air. Her body trembled and her gut threatened to heave. Years of being plagued by visions didn’t make them any easier to stomach. She still tasted the desperation of the woman on the cold slab. She shook her head to dispel the nightmare. Useless. Hopeless. She couldn’t control or change the vision. She hated herself for it. Like a fly on the wall, she was a pathetic bystander. Pockets of her vision flashed in her mind. A woman’s upper arm. The tiny wings of a hummingbird fluttering, then faltering. A man in a mask of bones and tattered fur. A knife. Blood, so much blood. She couldn’t get it out of her head, rivulets of it staining everything in its path. And a beating heart held up high as triumphant laughter drowned out the screams in her head. “No!” Quickly, she turned on her bedside lamp. The clock read midnight. Beads of sweat trickled down her body, sticking the thin cotton T-shirt to her skin. This vision had been stronger than the last. More detailed. More frightening. She recalled vividly the cold touch of a knife on her flesh. She looked down the length of her body, relieved to see she was in one piece—no knife wounds, no blood. She was fine. The body she had dreamed of had been shorter, smaller, completely naked…and mutilated. Despite the light in the room, Ixa felt the darkness of her vision creeping along the edge of her mind.

Shadow Visions

Her door opened and her grandfather stood silhouetted in the doorway. “I heard you cry out,” he said as he hobbled into the room. Ixa willed her heartrate to get under control. “I’m sorry I disturbed you.” “You are never a bother, mi brisita.” When he’d first started calling her his little breeze as a child, she’d embraced the nickname. Now it only dredged up memories better left buried, but no matter how many times she asked her abuelo to stop, he’d apologize and say he’d forgotten himself. And maybe he had, she thought as he sat down gingerly on the bed, using his ever-present walking stick to lower himself. At eighty-seven, he seemed frailer than ever and it worried her. “Did you have another dream?” he asked and ran a tender hand over her head. As a grown woman of thirty, the babying should have seemed odd, but ever since her parents’ deaths when she was a little girl, her abuelo had been the one watching out for her, doting on her like a mother hen over its chick. Now the roles were reversed, though he’d deny it. She worried too much about him to leave him on his own. They only had each other, so instead of getting a place of her own, she chose to stay and watch over him. “You mean another nightmare?” She sighed and forced down the bitterness she felt. “Yes. I saw another woman sacrificed. This makes two.” Her fingers dug into her sheets as if to tie her to reality. “Why does this keep happening to me?” Her abuelo covered her hand with his. “Look at me, niña. You have been given the gift of Sight. The gods have chosen you for some purpose.” “Abuelo, I am not a child. Ancient Aztec gods aren’t real. And even if they were, my visions are not a gift. They are more like a curse. If the gods are as powerful as you say, why didn’t they save Xena and my parents?” Years later and she still couldn’t drown out the screams of her parents, or of her little sister. She remembered clearly the night Galante shot her father in cold blood and his

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laughter as he lit the match that consumed her sister and mother. All the while, she’d prayed for gods that never came. Ruthlessly, Ixa closed the door on her memories. She’d clawed her way out of the past. She’d made a place for herself in the present. “It is not our place to question the gods.” “Abuelo, I called upon them for help. I didn’t abandon them—they abandoned me. Besides, I got Galante using old-fashioned detective work. He can’t hurt me or anyone else anymore.” She’d vowed over the ashes of her family that she’d see Galante pay. He’d been sentenced to life, and as good as it felt to have scum like him put behind bars, it didn’t bring her parents or little sister back. Abuelo patted her leg. “Your father would be proud. You are a good police officer, just like him. But he believed in the gods and he would want you to believe too.” Disappointment and sorrow clouded his features. She steeled herself against the need to comfort him, to take back what she’d said. She would not buy into her abuelo’s myths and legends. Doing so would take her down a path she refused to travel. She’d lost everything she held dear because of so-called gifts she’d never asked for, nor wanted. If she didn’t acknowledge them, they couldn’t hurt anyone ever again. She had to keep her abuelo safe. He was all she had left. So now she kept her feet planted firmly in the modern world. As a police detective, she dealt in facts and reality, and despite her abuelo’s attempts and her latest visions, she would not be sucked up into a world of Aztec gods, demons and warriors. She’d built a life for herself, brick by brick, and it kept her sane and her abuelo alive. “You cannot continue to deny your path,” he insisted.

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“The only path I have is that of a cop. We’ve been over this, Abuelo—I can’t be what you expect. You have to accept that.” He shook his head, his expression sad. She hated seeing him that way, but it was the only way she could move forward in life. “I understand that you are afraid of your gifts. Eventually, you will have to conquer your fears and accept yourself as you are. If I can’t make you believe, the gods will find a way to convince you.” Again with the gods. She bit back the retort on her lips. “It’s late, Abuelo. You need to get some sleep.” “So must you, mi brisita. We will talk of this matter again soon.” His tone brooked no argument. Ixa sighed and nodded. She watched him leave, wishing she could give him what he wanted, but she didn’t dare. She lay back against her headboard, unwilling to turn off the light and call up another nightmare. The minutes ticked into hours and she tried to go back to sleep, but the images were too fresh in her head. Dawn had already broken over the horizon when her cell phone rang, setting her heart racing. She eyed it warily, knowing she should pick it up, yet loath to do so. Finally, she reached out and snatched it off the bedstand. “Hello.” “Ixa, we’ve got another one,” her partner’s voice came over the line. “It’s bad. I swear it looks like a blood sacrifice.” Blood, so much blood. She squeezed her eyes shut in an effort to erase the image. “I’m on my way, Boyle.” She didn’t know how to deal with myths and legends, but she knew very well how to track a killer.


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She’d seen death before. Vile and savage. This one was no different. The young woman lay strapped to a metal slab inside a vacant warehouse, miles from where anyone could have heard her scream. Her lifeless eyes held the horror of her last moments. Blood congealed on her body and smeared over the table and floor. A large, ragged hole in her chest obscenely proclaimed where a madman had ripped out her heart. It was the Latina from her vision. “Mierda.” Shit was definitely the word. The shock should have hit Ixa like a punch to the gut, only it didn’t. This vision was her second. The last had come true and now this one had too. Some gift, she thought bitterly. This was a present she wished she could return. What good were visions when she couldn’t stop the violence before it happened? She shook off the thought and peered closer at the wound. Her badge with her identification, Detective Ixa Reyes, Homicide, hung loose around her neck. She carefully tucked it back into her jacket. Her partner, Detective Frank Boyle, returned with his notepad in hand. “Second one in the city and again there are no witnesses. Just another anonymous tip called in to the precinct. I swear someone is playing a game with us.” Boyle scrubbed his hand over tired eyes. A veteran of twenty years, he had seen and done it all, yet he treated Ixa as an equal. They made an odd team, but they’d developed a smooth working relationship, and they treated one another with respect. The only differences between them came down to their looks. Frank Boyle stood six feet tall, two hundred and forty pounds with thinning blond hair wisped around his pudgy face and weary blue-gray eyes masked by thick glasses two sizes too large. She could have been his teenage daughter, petite, with a tan, rounded moon face and full lips accompanied by a mass of straight black hair that hit below her shoulders, currently tied back in a no-nonsense braid.

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Sometimes her Mexican-American looks worked in her favor—like the time she had to deal with the locals to track down a powerful drug lord who had been terrorizing the neighborhood. She had caught him and put him behind bars, but it had sealed her as a traitor to her own people. In the eyes of her colleagues, she had earned respect. Even so, every day felt like she had to constantly prove her worth among the boys. She straddled both worlds, yet belonged to neither fully. Ixa had learned a long time ago to suppress her heritage and assimilate. It was best to play by the rules, follow the book and never deviate from protocol. Anything less only ended up in heartbreak, which was why she pushed aside the fresh image of her nightmare vision and focused back on the case. “What time did the call come in?” Boyle checked his notes. “Six in the morning.” She nodded. “Sunrise. Same as the last victim. So how’d you arrive on the scene so fast?” For the first time, her partner looked a little sheepish. He sighed. “Dana and the kids are away. Couldn’t sleep, so I figured I’d get in early and go over everything we got on this case. I was on my way when the call came in.” He glanced down at the body and his lips tightened. “Saw right away we had another one on our hands and called you.” Boyle drew her attention to a knife wound. “This victim has a hummingbird tattoo on her upper arm similar to the last woman.” Ixa really didn’t need to look. The dainty painted hummingbird tattoo was seared into the backs of her eyelids. Unconsciously, she stroked her hand over her sleeve. Below the fabric she could feel her own hummingbird tattoo tingling. The sensation grew hotter, burning her bicep. She didn’t know the woman, yet they all sported the same tattoo.


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Ixa bit her bottom lip. Her hummingbird tattoo had always been a part of her. Always. As a child, it had been a strawberry mark. Over time it had shaped and formed into the delicate bird—unusual and eerie, an understatement for sure. She had distanced herself from her Aztec roots, determined to make her way in a modern world, but her tattoo reminded her that she could never sever the connection completely. And this case seemed to be making the same point in a more frightening and horrific way. “Looks like we may have a serial killer on our hands.” Although, as she said the words, deep down she sensed something far more sinister at work. Without thought, she squeezed her arm. The tattoo radiated heat. She winced at the pain. Boyle eyed her with acute perception. “Something wrong?” “No. Just need some fresh air.” Ixa jammed her hands into the pockets of her slacks and exited the cavernous building. The warehouse sat in an industrial park located between the San Diego Freeway and the Cesar E. Chavez Parkway. She’d have to check ownership of the property when she got back to the office. Slowly, she turned, taking in the dirty white exterior of the building, worn from years of salt air and erosion. From the description given by the patrolman, she knew three similarly shaped buildings occupied the property. A search of the other buildings had turned up nothing, not even cargo in the warehouse holds. Had the killer known these buildings were empty or had he simply gotten lucky? The nightmare swam before her. She saw the knife plunge downward and winced, willing the image away. She inhaled deeply, needing to banish the smell of death that coated her nose, throat and tongue. A combination of sea and fumes laced the misty morning air…and another odor, an incongruent smell. She inhaled again.

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Memories of her abuelo and his Aztec stories came to mind. The scent was familiar. Incense. She sniffed delicately, intent on tracking it, when an eagle cried overhead. She glanced skyward, searching for the large bird, her breath catching in her throat at the sight of the bird of prey. “Aren’t you far from home, big guy?” She spoke softly, mesmerized by the beauty of the eagle. Shaking off her fascination, she rounded the building and pulled up short. A second warehouse paralleled the first one, and up on the west corner of the building the eagle came in for a landing. She could have sworn the wings should be brown, but this eagle’s wings seemed spun of gold. The bird cocked its head, as if looking directly at her. The bird screeched again. The magnificent eagle tugged at her, made her want to forget her responsibilities and simply fly up to the heavens. Ixa blew out a breath and dragged her gaze back to the ground, back to reality and to a killer who seemed fixated on women with hummingbird tattoos. She shivered despite the heat generating from the hummingbird mark she bore. Chain-link fence surrounded the property, which meant there was only one way in and out, unless he scaled the fence. But then there was no way to drag a victim over a ten-foot-tall fence with barbed wire at the top. So how did they get in? She followed the pavement that led to the back of the warehouse, aware of the tiny weeds sprouting up in cracks and the numerous tread marks smudging up the cement from trucks bearing heavy loads. The eagle let out a screech, spread its mighty wings and took flight, leaving her alone in the tight alleyway, with only dumpsters taking up space. She paused, letting her senses attune themselves to the environment. This part of the lot couldn’t be seen from the front entrance. Ixa halted and swept her gaze over


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the area. Why had the killer chosen this location? What connection did he have to it? The shadow of the eagle passed over the ground. She spotted rust-colored droplets near her foot. They looked like blood. Ixa pulled out her cell phone and punched in her partner’s number. Static greeted her. “Come on, I need Boyle and Forensics out here,” she muttered as she swept the area with her eyes, aware of the bird circling above. Frowning, she cut the connection and tried again. Same result. “Piece-of-shit technology.” She jammed the phone into her pocket. The whisper of the wind warned her first. The hummingbird on her skin burned fiercely and pulled to get free. Pain stabbed her bicep. She gritted her teeth, determined to stay focused. Her senses heightened and she became aware that she no longer stood alone. She unholstered her weapon and gripped it, comfortable with the familiar weight in her hand. Ixa spun around, her weapon braced in front of her. “Police. Put your hands up.” From between the dumpsters, a man slowly emerged, his head covered by the hood of a tattered sweatshirt. He seemed at one with the shadows, and when he faced her, she’d swear serpent eyes glowed from underneath the hood. “Keep your hands where I can see them. Take two steps forward. Do it now!” He stepped forward and the sunlight hit him full on the face, causing Ixa to gasp in recognition. At one time, the face would have been considered moderately good-looking, but with half the skin peeled back from his brow to his jaw, he was every child’s nightmare come to life.

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“Salvatore Galante. There’s no way you can be out. I locked you up for life.” Half man, half skeleton, he looked like the walking dead. What the hell had happened to him? “So nice to see you again, Ixa.” When he said her name, a chill ran up her spine. Memories from the past blew through her mind in a flurry of images. A man twenty years younger with the same smug expression on his face, wearing the colors of his gang, aiming a gun right at her father’s heart. Which was exactly where she was pointing her gun, except this time the tables were turned on him. “You think your bars could hold me?” He laughed. The sinister sound echoed between the two warehouses. “Just like you, I made a pact with a god— one far more powerful than yours.” She heard his words clearly but refused to accept his meaning. “I don’t know what you are talking about.” “Of course you do.” He sneered with half his face. “I know what I saw that night—a child who blew me away. Literally. That was some trick.” He put his hands in front of his face and blew out a gush of air over his fingers. “And poof, an instant hurricane.” Ixa hated to remember, hated giving credence to his words, even though she knew exactly what he meant. She had been so frightened. She had just wanted the flames to go away, to make the bad man stop hurting her family. It was the first time she had felt her power over the wind rise, and she had no control over it. The wind should have blown out the flames but instead it had fed the fire and made it grow bigger, hotter and higher. The screams of her sister and mother tore at her soul. She squeezed the gun, never taking her eyes off the killer in front of her.


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“You’re not going to play your mind games with me. You’ve been messing with the product. Too much meth turns you into a dumb shit.” To think otherwise would drag her back into a world she wanted no part of. “Hands behind your head, pendejo! Get down on your knees. Do it, Galante.” The man was a vicious drug lord who’d left a trail of bodies behind him. She didn’t know how he’d gotten out of prison, but he was going back. He laughed hard and harsh. “Nothing can stop me! Metztli will reign supreme and I’m going to rule this town again. But first, I’m going to take you out. Something I should have done a long time ago, when I capped your old man.” “Don’t you mention my father. You have no right!” Deep inside, something shifted. She actually felt the instant her elemental power released and expanded. The feeling grew, pushing upward, a pressure she knew intimately but hadn’t experienced in years. Her anxiety increased tenfold. All around her the wind kicked up. Debris in the alley smacked up against their bodies. Galante raised his hands to the wind. “Just like old times. You freaked me out then, but not now. I’ve got my own power.” Galante rushed at her in a blur of speed before she could even get one round off. He slammed into her hard, knocking her flat on her back. Her gun flew out of her hand and skidded under the dumpster. Ixa swung for his jaw, but he pinned her arms down, his superior strength immobilizing her. He had to be hopped up on meth. She clutched at the explanation, conveniently ignoring everything else. She twisted and heaved with all her might, trying to knock him off her, and shouted for help at the same time. Where the hell were the other cops?

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Galante stared down at her, a cruel smile on his lips. His eyes appeared flat, as if his very soul had been sucked out of his body. His skeletal face pressed closer. He opened his mouth and green goo oozed down the side of his chin. Anxiety rose and adrenaline kicked in. She couldn’t afford to panic, but she couldn’t fight her growing apprehension. He would kill her. She knew it. Ixa feared the man on top of her, but she feared her destructive wind power more. It was unpredictable and she had no control over it. The wind swirled in the alley, creating a minitornado. From high above, the eagle screeched. Galante’s head whipped up. Beyond him, Ixa saw a large shape diving toward them, riding on the wind she had inadvertently summoned. Sharp talons aimed right for the two of them. With the precision of an advanced weapon, Manuel tucked his wings in at his sides and bulleted toward the pair on the ground. His eagle spirit eyed the target and let out a sharp cry, anticipating sinking its talons into the demon. He felt the hunger consuming his spirit, the need to devour the demon. More and more with each hunt and each kill, Manuel watched his humanity slip away, his animal spirit fighting him for control. It was the price he paid for his immortality and service to his god. Manuel knew he had little time left before he succumbed to his beast. As a tribe leader, he had picked and chosen his battles, and as an eternal warrior of Huitzilopochtli he did the same. He never took on a mission just for the hunt. He chose the ones that posed the most risk. Like the demon below. At the last moment, he pulled up and reversed. His talons stretched towards the evil abomination pinning the woman to the ground. The demon lifted its arm


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up to protect its head. Manuel never paused. He plucked the demon off the woman and launched skyward. The demon hissed and cursed and then spewed a stream of fire. Manuel dropped the creature, taking satisfaction in the loud thud when the demon hit the asphalt and lay in a stunned heap. He flew up high before plunging once again towards the ground, his target always in sight. He thought of the two dead women. Each of them bearing a hummingbird tattoo. Each of them a possible spirit mate to a shadow warrior. Shadow warriors had long given up hope of finding a woman marked with the sign of Huitzilopochtli. But Tomás, another shadow warrior, recently found Carolina, a guardian marked with the tattoo. She nearly died at the hands of a demon trying to kill the water goddess. Together Tomás and Carolina fought off the serpent god bent on destroying the Earth. For their love and bravery, the sun god made them spirit mates for all eternity. With their union, Tomás regained his humanity, never to fear losing himself to his beast. Either of the dead women could have been a spirit mate, the one woman with the ability to save a shadow warrior from losing his humanity completely. Manuel had arrived too late to save them. He’d failed. The eagle didn’t care about spirit mates or Manuel’s battle to hang on to his humanity. It was hungry. The demon was a meal he intended to drag back to the netherworld and devour. At the last second, Manuel veered to the left and landed close by, shifting to human form. Bones crunched and reshaped until he stood straight on human legs. He clothed himself in traditional Aztec dress, a white cotton loincloth embroidered with gold as befitted his elite status, a former tribal chief. Feathers adorned his hair and hung like a mantle over his chest and back. In his hand he

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carried his atlatl, a tool which enabled him to throw his spear and darts great distances. Manuel spared a glance for the woman still on the ground. She stared at him wide-eyed, her mouth open. Even disheveled and bruised, he could not deny her beauty. Dark strands of hair whipped around her face. Almond eyes rimmed in dark lashes framed equally dark irises that seemed fathomless and full of secrets. For a moment, he forgot the demon. He stepped toward her, wanting to reach out and brush aside her hair to get a deeper look into her eyes. The eagle inside pressed outward to grab his attention, but he pushed the beast back down. Briefly, they battled for control and Manuel doubled over in pain. The eagle would not be denied its meal. His animal spirit screeched in his head, making its thoughts clear—if it could not have the demon it would satiate its hunger with the flesh of the wounded cihuatl. Manuel stood up and raged back against his beast. “You will not touch the woman!” His primal scream made the eagle back down. It also made the cihuatl scoot back from him. Fear shone bright in her eyes. His angry reaction caught him by surprise. It had been centuries since he had felt human emotions. He looked at the woman on the ground, studying her with greater interest. She stirred emotions when he thought he had none left. He stepped towards her, the need to find out if she was his spirit mate driving him. Behind him, the demon growled. His need for the woman would have to wait. The demon was back on his feet. Manuel let out a warrior’s cry and raced forward to battle.


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Chapter Two

Ixa stared in disbelief at the powerful man looming over the scene. He looked like some kind of ancient warrior from another civilization. Hard muscles stretched over bone and sinew, every sharp angle of him chiseled perfection. A shot of desire tore right through her. Gorgeous and wild, he carried himself with an air of arrogance. But what caught her attention the most were his eyes and the way he looked at her, as if he saw through to her very soul. Her tattoo flared, reminding her of the danger she was in. She crab-crawled backwards from both men, then flipped over and forced herself up on her feet. Where was her weapon? She had to find it fast. With a quick look over her shoulder, she experienced relief that neither man seemed to be paying attention to her. Her mind couldn’t stop thinking about the eagle becoming a man. It was right out of the stories her abuelo had told, ones she’d barely listened to because she refused to believe in gods that would destroy a child’s world and leave her to deal with the crippling guilt. Only she couldn’t deny or ignore what she was seeing. It was all too real, but she would find a way to deal with it all later. Much later. Right now she needed to get the situation under control. She spied her gun under the dumpster and stretched out her hand for it. Her fingers closed over the cold steel and she pulled her Sig 229 out, fitting it into a two-handed grip. The two men were locked in struggle, oblivious to her. “Freeze!”

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The warrior broke free and paused at her command, but not Galante. He smashed past the feathered man and made a beeline straight for her. “Police! Freeze!” Ixa fired, hitting the criminal high in the shoulder. He kept on coming, his steps never slowing. Ixa fired a second round straight into his stomach. The bullet blew a hole in his center but it didn’t faze him. A few feet in front of her, his neck lengthened as if he were freaking Gumby and he shot a stream of ooze out of his mouth. The shot hit her high in the chest. The liquid burned through her windbreaker and cotton shirt. It sizzled and crackled as it melted the material. Smoke rose up. “Acid!” She stripped off her jacket, juggling her gun in the process—all the while trying to keep an eye on Galante—and then yanked her shirt off, leaving her in the Kevlar vest she’d donned before answering the earlier call. She didn’t always wear body armor under her clothes, but lately her instincts had been riding her to be prepared. Good thing she’d listened. Her arms remained bare, exposing her hummingbird tattoo. A bright light flared from her bicep. Her tattoo glowed brighter than the sun, slicing through the early morning mist, peeling back every single shadow. Galante shielded his eyes and shrieked. Even Ixa found the light blinding. She tried to keep her pistol trained on the drug lord but had to squeeze her eyes against the glare. She heard the feathered man shout in a strange language. Forcing her eyes open, she saw he held a dart in his hand. She didn’t need to understand what he said—she clearly got the message. She immediately jumped out of the way. He flicked his wrist and the dart flew through the air, piercing between Galante’s shoulder blades. Black ooze exploded from his back. “Metztli!” Galante shouted, and in a puff of smoke he was gone.


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“Where’d he go?” Ixa turned her head left and right, certain Galante had to be somewhere. She kept her gun up and tracked the area, expecting the drug lord to reappear at any moment. Nothing stirred. Just her and a tall, gorgeous, sweaty man with his heaving chest and bulging muscles remained. The light from her tattoo winked out, though the mark still tingled. The warrior moved. Ixa aimed her weapon at his heart. She wasn’t taking any more chances, and instinctively she believed this man the more dangerous of the two. “Don’t come any closer or I’ll shoot.” Her gun shook in her hands as if she were a damn rookie. She fought to control her emotions but they swirled inside her. If she didn’t pull it together another tornado would manifest, and that frightened her more than the half-naked man with the eagle eyes in front of her. “Not another step,” she ordered, but he continued to stalk towards her. She held her stance. Her finger trembled on the trigger. He reached her. His chest pressed to the muzzle. He easily towered over her. She stared up into his golden eyes. No fear. Instead, she read another emotion in his eyes. Desire. She should have felt threatened, and she did, but not because she believed he meant to hurt her—it was much more fundamental than that. Her whole body seemed to come alive in his presence. Her breath shortened and she felt a flush stealing up underneath her tanned cheeks. She lowered her gaze and let her weapon fall to her side. Keeping her fingers tightly wrapped around the grip reminded her to remain grounded. Her reaction to him was so totally unlike her. Up close, she found herself staring at a broad chest covered with a mantle of feathers. The man was made of solid muscle. Without volition, her gaze traveled

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upward, noting the powerful shoulders, the hard jaw, the firm lips and the stern expression he wore. “You’re very brave, but your gun won’t help you against the tzitzimime.” Ixa swallowed, searching for her voice. “Who are you? What are you?” His hand came up. Gently, he traced the image of the hummingbird tattooed on her right bicep. Her muscle quivered under his touch. “Just as I thought. You bear the mark,” he murmured. In the distance she heard the confused shouts of her fellow officers. “They’ll be here soon.” They would have heard the shots. They’d be searching for her. “I distorted the sound so they check in a different area. They will not be upon us yet.” “You can do that?” It didn’t seem possible, except she didn’t have an explanation for anything that had happened. Her brain seemed to be functioning in first gear, unable to catch up to anything that required substantial thought. “I can do many things, you will find.” He cupped her chin and tilted her head. His golden eyes came closer until his head blotted out the sky and everything around her. Helpless, she waited for his lips to touch hers. His lips brushed hers, once, twice. She let out a sigh. He pressed down a third time and she leaned into him, but before she could deepen the kiss, he released her and stepped back. Her entire body zinged with energy. She stared up at him, bemused. He chuckled, which snapped her out of her daze. Had she lost her mind? “Don’t ever do that again.” He smiled, an incredibly sexy smile that made her nerve endings sing with need. Before she could lash out at him again, he raised his arms up. A breeze passed around them, ruffling the feathers adorning his chest. His image wavered


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and bent. She heard bones cracking, reshaping. Wave after wave of feathers burst forth in a soft, rippled covering. Where a warrior once stood, now a large eagle spread its wings and gave a loud cry. The eagle flapped its wings and took to the skies. Ixa gasped. The gods will find a way to convince you. Her abuelo’s words echoed in her mind. Footsteps pounded the ground behind her. Ixa turned and raised her weapon. From around the corner of the building, she heard her partner’s voice. “Ixa, you okay?” “All clear, Boyle.” She lowered her weapon. Boyle turned the corner of the building, weapon in hand, his eyes scanning the area. Two patrol officers backed him up, their guns out and ready. “We heard gun shots. Could’ve sworn they came from the other side of the lot.” He shook his head as if to clear it. “Anyway, what happened?” “There were two suspects here.” Boyle looked back and forth. The alley was clear. “We didn’t see anyone running away. Did they climb the fence? We might get some evidence if they did.” Ixa bit her lip. How could she explain any of this? “I really didn’t see which way they went.” Even to her ears it sounded lame, and she wasn’t surprised at Boyle’s odd expression. She focused on the spent casing on the ground instead. It only proved she’d shot at something, not that anyone had been here, but for her it was enough. What she’d seen had been real. “They were here,” she insisted quietly. “Two of them.”

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Boyle holstered his weapon and strode over to Ixa, his expression grim. He stooped down and picked up her cotton shirt. His finger poked through the hole in the material. She remembered that she only had her Kevlar vest on over a plain white cotton bra. One of the cops smirked. She glared at him until he coughed and switched his gaze to the ground. “You two search the area,” Boyle ordered the pair. She sighed in relief. Alone with her partner, she could let her guard down. “You believe me, don’t you?” He stared at the ragged hole in her police-issue vest. He nodded. Then he caught sight of her arm. Instinctively she covered the tattoo with her hand. “Did you get a good look at the perps?” “Yes.” She held back the dread that ran up her spine. “One was Galante. He wants revenge and I don’t think he’s going to give up until I’m dead.”

“Galante had to be stoned. He must’ve gotten hooked on the merchandise. It’s the only explanation,” Ixa argued as she tossed her pencil onto her desk in disgust. As much as she wanted to pretend Galante was flying high on chemicals, her mind knew what she’d seen and it was nothing man could make. “What the hell is Metztli?” Ixa looked at Boyle. “You ever hear this word?” “Probably some new shit on the market. Could be anything. Got so many drugs coming in over the border, who the hell knows?” He shrugged his rounded shoulders and gave her a sympathetic look. “You said you shot him. Word has gone out to all hospitals and clinics. If he goes for medical attention, we’re on him.” The lenses of Boyle’s glasses glinted from the overhead fluorescent lighting.


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Ixa doubted Galante would hit a hospital. With his connections, he’d find a way to be treated that didn’t require paperwork. Mierda! The man had looked like walking death and yet he’d attacked her with amazing speed and force. She touched her tattoo—it still felt feverish. She’d been jumpy ever since they’d left the crime scene. Her partner had asked lots of questions and she’d had very few answers. Then the questions suddenly stopped and no one else seemed to be following up. Too weird, though she wasn’t complaining. An officer came in and handed Boyle a fax. Ixa waited impatiently for her partner to read it. “Galante escaped three days ago. His cellmate babbled about a humpbacked man with a dead rabbit on his face and Galante disappearing in a puff of smoke. They’ve sedated the cellmate and moved him to the Psych ward.” Where she’d end up too if she wasn’t careful. No way could she say she’d seen an eagle that turned into a man or a criminal with green guck coming out of his mouth. She’d be in psych evaluation in a blink of an eye. “And the pendejos only got around to notifying us today?” “An oversight,” Boyle said as he perused the sheet. Damn, she hated that her partner could be so rational. She shoved back her chair on its rollers and stood, needing to release the restless energy inside. “Let’s just focus on the case. The first murder occurred twenty-four hours before the second. Does that mean we will have another victim in twenty-four hours?” “Best the medical examiner can guess, the death happened around six o’clock this morning. So that gives us less than twenty-four hours,” Boyle interjected. “All right. What about the ritualistic aspect?” Ixa paced behind her chair. “Everything about the case so far points to an Aztec connection.”

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“How so?” Boyle looked to her for clarification. “Why not Mayan? All the nut jobs are coming out of the woodwork, spouting the hype swirling around the Winter Solstice 2012 prophecy.” “I won’t dismiss it, but Salvatore Galante was once a boss for the Barrio Aztecas. He is deep into his Mexican-Aztec roots. And something about these murders reminds me of stories from my childhood. The victims had their hearts torn out with a knife. Sacrifice was something the Aztec people did to appease a god, whether it was to bring rain or have good crops—not unlike the Mayans. It seems ludicrous in this day and age, but we can’t rule it out.” The modern woman in her, the rational detective, wanted to reject the conclusion. The vision flashed again of the man in the mask, the knife sinking into the woman’s flesh. She rubbed her temple, wanting to erase the scene. But instead her mind turned to the man with the mesmerizing eagle eyes. “Ixa, you okay?” She dropped her hand. The vision disappeared, and with it the image of her handsome rescuer. She turned and smiled at Boyle. “I’m fine. It’s just the case getting to me.” He gave her a quizzical look. “Is the case hitting a little too close to home?” “Yeah. It just feels like I have spent my whole life chasing this man. I thought when we put him away for life that he would rot behind bars. And now Galante’s back out on the street killing innocent people again. I feel like I failed my father.” Boyle put his hand on her shoulder. “Hey, you can’t let this bastard into your head. Your dad was one of our best cops. Galante got the drop on him. He’s pure evil. You were just a kid—you couldn’t have stopped him.” He turned Ixa and made her look at him. “We got him once and we’re going to do it again.” Dread spread through her gut. “Sure.”


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“You don’t sound so convinced.” Ixa didn’t know what to say to Boyle. Two years ago, when she had wrapped up an airtight case and sent Galante away on a one-way ticket to jail, he had been an ordinary murdering thug. Now he was a thug hopped up on ancient Aztec god juice. In her experience, people, especially cops, had a hard time accepting the supernatural. Even she had a hard time accepting her own freakish abilities. Ixa had learned to stick to the book, play by the rules and do her job. At least here in the real world she had some control. Control that had become very shaky since the events of the morning. She picked up a file folder containing interviews the patrol officers had collected from the area. It was pretty thin. With no witnesses and few leads, the case was going nowhere fast. How was Galante linked to these ritualistic killings and why? “Has NCIC yielded any hits?” “It’s run by the feds. Who knows when the database will kick anything back to us? Look, if we’re lucky, we’ll hear back soon. Right now, let’s focus on putting Galante behind bars.” His desk phone rang and he picked it up. Ixa watched her partner’s face. His brow creased into furrowed lines. His mouth pressed into a tight-lipped grimace. He hung up and cleared his throat. “Ixa, grab your stuff and hop to it.” “What’s going on? Do they have a lead?” “Uh, no.” He shook his head. “That was Sergeant Cisco. He said the lieutenant wants to see us.” Her stomach churned. “What for?” “FBI walked in the building.” Boyle glanced at his watch and hurriedly stood. “Need to be in on the meeting in five minutes.” He grabbed a legal pad

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and a pen off his desk, frowning as he did so. Apparently, he wasn’t any more keen about getting up close and personal with the feds than she was. Her tattoo tingled. She didn’t like the sensation. Nothing good ever came of it. They headed down the corridor for the elevator that would take them upstairs to the conference room. Sergeant Cisco with his long legs and deep scowl strode up beside them. He gave them a gruff greeting. A few detectives glanced their way, but a scowl from the Sergeant sent them scurrying back to work. The conference room was nothing more than a rectangular box with windows on two sides. A long brown table covered with scratches and marks dominated the space, surrounded by chairs of worn black vinyl. Ixa flopped down into one and drummed her fingers against the tabletop. Boyle took a seat beside her, while the Sergeant settled himself on the opposite side. Sweat on Cisco’s face told her that things were about to get a lot hotter. A throat cleared. Ixa glanced to her left and shot out of her chair. “You!” Ixa Reyes. Manuel rolled the name over his tongue, savoring the sound. She amused him, standing before him like a bird with all her feathers ruffled. He studied the emotion. He couldn’t remember the last time he had been amused. The eagle in him lived for the hunt. With each demon kill, his humanity had been pushed aside, his emotions slowly seeping away. He had held on for so long, fighting the beast within him. The push and pull of wills was a painful battle within his body. Seeing Ixa and feeling her energy flow over him made the fight and the long wait worth it. This woman made him feel his humanity once again and he rejoiced. After all these years, he had found her. His spirit mate. Manuel wasn’t going to let her out of his sight. Ever since he’d touched her and felt the connection, he had been consumed by thoughts of her.


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“I don’t know who you are, but I want an explanation, mister,” she squawked, her eyes flashing sparks. “Oh, good, you are all here.” Lieutenant Carson closed the door behind him. “Team, this is Special Agent Manuel Del Sol from the FBI field office. He’s going to be heading up this investigation.” “Now, wait one minute, Lieutenant,” Ixa interrupted. Carson held up a hand, halting the flow of her speech. “You know the drill. This case ties into other murders across the United States. I want you to cooperate fully with the FBI.” Before he could say more, his cell phone rang. The lieutenant fumbled with his cell phone and finally managed to answer it. A crease marred his forehead. “The commissioner? All right, put him through.” Carson’s voice sounded resigned. Manuel continued to stand, as did Ixa. She glowered at him and her entire body vibrated with tension. He resisted the urge to smile. Until recently, the talk of spirit mates had been thought to be a myth put out to keep the shadow warriors going. They all understood they would eventually succumb to the spirit of their beast. Huitzilopochtli had spoken to them one day about a vision in which he saw each warrior matched with a spirit mate, a woman who would give him the strength to control his animal spirit. For a while all warriors had hope, but over time when no such mate was found, the hope faded away. Then Tomás had found his spirit mate. News had traveled fast amongst the warriors. For the first time, Manuel considered what his woman might be like. He’d envisioned someone bold, a warrior who could stand on her own. Yet reality proved so much sweeter. Ixa was as strong as he could wish, and a fighter, a woman who could stand by his side.

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Here in the same room with her, he could feel her energy swirling around him, beckoning him. Earlier, he’d kissed her on impulse. She’d tasted spicy and sweet, and he’d wanted to lose himself in her. His eagle had brought him to his senses. It was too dangerous to lose himself to passion when the enemy remained loose. Reluctantly, he’d broken off the kiss. But he vowed to himself he would taste her again soon. This close and unable to touch Ixa had his body wound tight, but he was a patient man. He could wait—business first, pleasure after. His gaze slid along her delicate, firm jaw, and then over to that luscious mouth—the memory of its taste stirred his blood. His eyes lingered on her lips. She colored as if she could read his thoughts. Manuel recognized that he had a difficult road ahead. Ixa had to choose him willingly. So instead of her playing on his stomping grounds, he needed to play on hers. He had been the leader of his tribe, a man of persuasion and charm. Unlike most of the other shadow warriors who chose to stay rooted to the past, Manuel had moved with the times and learned to blend into each new civilization, mastering their technology and their political, legal and belief systems. It didn’t take much for him to get people to do his will without offense. He used his power of suggestion over the weak-willed humans. For his current mission, he’d had a profile created for himself in the system to get him assigned to this case. The rest of the details his god, Huitzilopochtli, had taken care of. Sometimes working for an all-powerful Aztec god had its perks. Ixa, on the other hand, was very strong-willed. His charm wasn’t going to be enough to cut it with her. He would have to use every trick at his disposal to woo her and capture her heart because, if he failed, his battle with his eagle would be over and he would be left flying the skies eternally alone.


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Chapter Three

Carson finished speaking to the commissioner and asked them all to be seated. Ixa took her seat unwillingly, every cell in her body quivering. Her tattoo warmed and pulsated. A million questions raced through her mind but she bit her tongue. Well-dressed in a suit so crisp and fitted, Special Agent Del Sol—if that truly was his name—moved with a combination of grace and authority, instantly commanding the room. No man should look that good in clothes. She looked down at her own serviceable white, long-sleeved cotton T-shirt over black pants that she’d changed into when she returned to the station. Utilitarian. Functional. She nearly winced, wondering if that’s how people saw her. She tried to concentrate on the papers in front of her, but once again her eyes were drawn to the man who made all the other men in the room seem small by comparison. What was it about him? His voice mesmerized, while his gaze seemed almost hypnotic. His physique made her pulse rate speed up, and she’d always considered herself immune to men. She recalled standing in his embrace, the feel of his muscular build against hers. God, what was wrong with her? She put the paper down and focused on what he had to say. Maybe he’d explain why the hell he’d been at the warehouse this morning. As if reading her mind, he spoke. “I have been investigating several serial killings. My investigation led me to San Diego where I came into contact with Detective Reyes.”

Shadow Visions

Ixa couldn’t help staring at him and imagining him in nothing but feathers and a loincloth. Her concentration was totally off. She needed to get a grip. No other man in the room—in the station, for that matter—had ever affected her this way. “Lieutenant Carson, if you could please turn off the lights,” Manuel said as he pulled out a memory stick and plugged it into the computer. The Smart Board lit up with pictures of female bodies with hearts ripped out. The images snapped her out of her lust-filled thoughts and brought her to attention. She wanted to close her eyes, but it would do no good. She had seen them before in her visions, their faces and their bodies imprinted firmly in her psyche. “His MO is always the same. Latina females in their twenties with a hummingbird tattoo somewhere on their bodies. He goes in under the cover of darkness and the women are usually loners or isolated, without family support, so when they go missing, there isn’t anyone to report them. We have no real motive, but we believe the killings are ritualistic in nature. There are never any eyewitnesses and few clues are left at the crime scene. Until now.” He looked directly at her. For a second, she saw his irises flash gold. “And that leads me to you, Detective Reyes.” All eyes landed on her. Memories of being a child with accusing fingers pointed at her, being called a freak, made her squirm in her seat. She cast aside the old memories and steeled herself against what was to come. “You identified a perp outside the warehouse. He recognized you.” Ixa replied, “Yes, Salvatore Galante. He’s a criminal with a record of running drugs and murder. I put him behind bars two years ago. According to a fax we just received, he escaped three days ago. He might be behind the two murders we had here, but you can’t tie him to anything else.”


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Del Sol smiled. “The attack in Arizona was carried out by another man who was captured. Here in San Diego, the deaths of the two women would appear to be the work of Galante.” “Does this have anything to do with the fact that he belongs to a gang that plays up their Aztec roots?” Boyle interrupted. “It’s a possibility. I need you, Detective Boyle, to track Galante down and help me put him out of action before he kills again.” “Us. You need us,” Ixa interjected. Manuel pivoted and stared directly at her, his gaze pinning her to the chair. “You told your partner,” he nodded in Boyle’s direction, “that Galante threatened you. Is that correct?” Boyle held up his hand. “Now wait a minute. What does that have to do with Ixa?” Manuel stalked around the chairs and flipped on the light. He zeroed in on her and moved next to her. He quickly took her arm before she could protest and shoved her sleeve up. Her tattoo was exposed for everyone to see. “Son of a bitch,” the lieutenant groaned and reached for an antacid, popping a pill in his mouth, while her sergeant swore heavily under his breath. “Goddamn it, Ixa,” Boyle accused. “You should’ve said something.” Her stomach tightened. Instinctively she covered her tattoo with her other hand. Her skin heated beneath her touch. Embarrassed and afraid it would start to glow, she yanked down her sleeve. Special Agent Del Sol released her arm. “I have reason to believe you are his next intended victim.” Ixa stood up abruptly, shoving back her chair. “This is bullshit!” She looked to her colleagues. “You can’t possibly believe this shit! Even if it’s true, I’m a cop. I can take care of myself.” She whipped her head around to face Special Agent

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Del Sol. A slight gust of air riffled the papers, causing grunts of surprise. For a moment, she couldn’t breathe. She closed her eyes and counted to ten in her head. She had to get under control. She couldn’t afford to lose it. Telling a white lie and explaining her tattoo as some silly thing she did after a drunken night in college would be easy. But having to explain how a tornado popped up in the middle of a conference room would be impossible. “I don’t know what you have in mind, but you can count me out,” she gritted out finally. Her eyes glittered with anger. A tiny burst of air flowed by him and Manuel frowned. Sergeant Cisco scrubbed a hand over his hound dog face. “Sit down, Reyes! You know as well as I do that this complicates matters. Bullshit or not, you’re too close to the investigation and your involvement could seriously fuck up any evidence we gather. Until we get Galante’s ass behind bars, you’re off this case.” He raised a hand, forestalling any words from her. “Don’t piss me off. I don’t know what the fuck is going on, and until I do, you are not doing anything that might make you another victim.” He jabbed his finger at the screen, the mutilated bodies of the women on the white board barely visible in the lit room. Manuel smiled at the Sergeant, sensing the men in the room were on his side. He continued with his presentation, doling out enough information to satisfy their natural police instincts—all except Ixa’s. It would take more than words to satisfy her. As he wound up his presentation, he sent a little push in their direction, influencing them to see matters his way. “I assure you that the FBI takes this very seriously. We will provide for Detective Reyes’s security until Galante is apprehended.” “Hey, I am still in the room.”


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The lieutenant addressed her. “I’m on my way to a press conference and I’ve got fuck-all to tell them. The media has been going to town with this, calling these murders sacrifices to the gods. It’s all tied up in this Mayan prophecy bullshit.” He rubbed his stomach, his lips pinching. “The murders appear to be Aztec-based, sir,” Ixa corrected. “I don’t give a fuck,” the lieutenant snapped. “The commissioner is already on my ass because the mayor is on his. It’s a fucking circus and I’m going to have another goddamn ulcer before it’s over. So do me a favor, Reyes. You sit down with Boyle and Del Sol and tell them everything that went down this morning. You coughed, they better know about it.” “But, Lieutenant—” “No buts. When you’re done, you go with Del Sol until we find this bastard. Got it?” “Yes, sir.” Her lips pursed, but her eyes smoldered. What would they look like if they smoldered with passion…passion for him? The eagle spirit inside him flapped its wings, scoffing at the notion. He shut down the connection. “I believe, Lieutenant Carson, that I can handle the interrogation by myself. Detective Boyle would be put to better use tracking down Galante,” Manuel interjected smoothly, at the same time pushing his will on the men. “Right. You get the details from Reyes. Boyle, you get started on tracking down that scum, Galante. Cisco, I expect reports. “Yes, sir,” came the simultaneous responses. “Can I have a moment to talk to Special Agent Del Sol in private?” Ixa said stiffly. The lieutenant nodded. “Hell, yes. We’re done. Keep me informed.” He turned on his heel and walked out. Boyle and Cisco followed him, conferring on the next steps.

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Ixa motioned for Manuel to sit. He stood his ground. His eagle spirit remained alert. His eyes studied the rigid set to Ixa’s shoulders and the hands fisted at her sides. A draft of air swirled around the room, fluttering papers and causing the plastic plant in the corner to sway. He put his hand down on a file folder to stop the documents inside from blowing away. Aware this wasn’t the first time he had felt the air stir, Manuel glanced around, noting that all windows remained shut, before focusing back on Ixa. Interesting. Very interesting. A tidal wave of feelings churned inside Ixa, threatening to spill over. She didn’t like having her case yanked out from under her. Events were spinning out of her control and that put her on edge. She had to keep a tight rein on her emotions. The one time she hadn’t, disaster had struck. Already she felt the air shifting around her. Being a cop centered her and as long as she stuck to the rules, she’d be fine. Special Agent Manuel Del Sol moved over to the window where he propped a shoulder against the frame. Sunlight streamed in through the blinds, the golden rays illuminating him from behind and casting his face in shadows. Momentarily, she was awestruck. He looked like a god, watching her, judging her, assessing her. His eyes caught a stray strand of light and glinted golden. She swallowed hard. The wind kicked up more. She needed to get herself under control. He was just a man, right? “Listen up, pendejo. I don’t know what’s going on, but let’s get something straight. I don’t work in shadows. You want my cooperation, you level with me.” He inclined his head. “That is my intention.”


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“Fine, then,” she snapped, pulling out a chair and dropping into it. She needed to put some distance between them—this close to him and her whole body vibrated with energy. “How about you sit down and explain to me what that cross between a horror show and magic act this morning was all about? I want the truth. Not that dog and pony show you distracted the others with.” She offered up her best glare, unwilling to let him see that he rattled her. She noticed him as a man. She reacted to him as a woman. She didn’t like it. She’d worked years as a cop, surrounded by testosterone, and had been totally immune. Why this man? Why now? “Who are you?” The words slipped out before she could censor them. “Don’t you know? Can’t you feel it?” He moved away from the window to stand across the table from her. “I am much more than your Federal Bureau of Investigation.” The feeling of dread returned to her gut. A vision flashed, but she shook it off, afraid of what she might see. The tattoo on her arm warmed. He moved in closer. His eagle eyes settled on her with piercing intensity. “I am a shadow warrior, soldier for Huitzilopochtli, the Aztec sun god, sent to this plane to destroy those demons intent on preying on humanity.” His gaze never wavered from hers. She felt her stomach clench. Every story her abuelo had told her flowed through her mind. Images of gods, demons, shadow warriors, blood and sacrifice swirled in her head and made it spin. She stood up abruptly. “I need to get some fresh air.” She walked toward the door. “He will kill again. You saw the photos. You’ve seen the bodies. Other women with the mark of the hummingbird have died and you’re next.” Her chest felt tight, like air was trapped inside and couldn’t break free. She was afraid to exhale, afraid to breathe. She’d seen much more. She’d seen those

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women die, the knife plunging into them over and over, and their still-beating hearts in the hands of a madman. She whirled around to face him, her left hand instinctively going up to touch the mark on her bicep covered by her white shirt. He was right behind her. How did he sneak up on her without her hearing him? The man was like the wind. “You can’t be certain I am his next victim.” She tried to take a step back, but she was trapped between his rock-solid body and the door. A strong, square hand with nicks and tiny scars came up and covered hers. Underneath her fingers, the tattoo thrummed. Her body warmed and her blood pounded in her ears. This man had a strange effect on her. Common sense told her to get away, but every cell in her body wanted to get closer to him. It was wrong, and yet somehow being this near to Manuel felt so right. She needed space. She needed air. An unnatural wind kicked up and billowed around them. “Please step away from me,” she whispered, afraid if she spoke louder she would summon a tornado. “I can’t do that. I was sent here to protect you.” Damn him. If he didn’t let her go, everyone in the entire building was going to need protection. She forced her gaze up to his face. In a dark business suit, he appeared like any other fed she’d come into contact with—except for the talk about shadow warriors and the intense thread of power she sensed emanating from him, drawing her in, pulling at her, demanding her to touch him back. She needed something to ground her, anything but this man who made all her rational thoughts disappear into vapor.


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His thumb stroked across her shirt. Her tattoo tingled and pulsed, sending a shot of pleasure straight down to her toes. She bit her lip. She had to stay focused. “Please, you don’t understand.” “What you don’t understand is that you bear a huitzil tattoo. A hummingbird, the mark of Huitzilopochtli. I saw it. The demon saw it. You are his next victim. He’s already chosen you.” Ixa shook her head. “Salvatore Galante is a demon all right—a big-time drug lord who plagued an entire community. He escaped three days ago from jail and I intend to make sure his ass goes back.” Yes, she had to focus on the facts. Stay grounded in reality. Play it by the book and follow the rules. She repeated the mantra in her head. It was the best way to ensure no one got hurt, especially her. She couldn’t bear the thought of more people dying because of her inability to control her power. “You’re no longer on this case.” His hand slid down her arm, blazing a trail of fire that heated her straight to the core, blowing away her reason. His fingers tangled with hers. Around the room, the wind grew into a gust, blowing her hair around her face. “I have to be. This is personal. That man took everything from me. He is going to pay for his crimes.” “He will pay, but you can’t do this alone. Galante is a demon with a powerful god behind him who wants you dead.” Demons. Aztec gods. Shadow warriors. She’d deliberately walked away from that world. Her abuelo lived and breathed Aztec folklore, but her heritage had brought her nothing but death and destruction. Abuelo had built his life around the gods and no matter how hard he tried to convince her that her abilities were a gift, she found no merit in them. Her visions couldn’t save

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anyone, least of all her family. And for all her power over wind, all it had ever been good for was blowing her parents’ and sister’s ashes over the land. “Please let me go. I don’t want to hurt you.” She pulled her hand free from his. The wind pushed them apart. Her emotions swirled around inside her. No longer could she contain them. The pressure built in the room until it blew the door off the hinges and flung it into the hallway. She heard shouts and footsteps running down the hall. “I’ve got to get out of here.” Ixa didn’t want to explain what had happened. She couldn’t. She spared one last glance back at Manuel and took off. Such awesome power packed into a petite, beautiful body. He had seen her fear stamped all over her features when she called up the wind. She had great power but little control. He scowled. He wondered why she had not been trained. He could train her, if only she would let him, but it seemed Ixa was not a woman easily told what to do. Manuel tamped down his own annoyance. She needed time. But time was one commodity they had precious little of. His eagle rose up, insisting they leave this colorless box and take to the skies to find the demon. His keen sense of hearing told him the humans would be upon them in seconds. He pushed back, counseling caution and patience. “What happened?” Men and women in uniform and rumpled suits crowded the entryway. Some of them stared in disbelief at the broken door on the floor while others eyed him skeptically. Manuel put on a smile, shrugged his shoulders and said nonchalantly, “I guess that’s what happens when you piss off a woman with a badge.” He let the power of suggestion roll over them, waiting for that moment when the skepticism in their eyes changed to acceptance.


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The men around him laughed and the women smiled as they nodded their heads. He casually walked past them. The eagle spirit inside him urged him to move faster, crying in his head for freedom. It wanted nothing to do with the humans or the cihuatl. His spirit was still hungry, and it wanted to rip into the demon and kill it. On that subject, Manuel could agree. The demon needed to die. Inside he could feel the beast pushing outward, ready to take flight. Manuel pushed the eagle spirit down. He was not finished with his spirit mate. However, first he needed to find her. He moved quickly through the building, his eyes taking in every detail and every movement. She wasn’t here. Anger roiled in his gut. He would accept a certain amount of willfulness. His spirit mate was used to being independent. He could not change that overnight, nor did he want to. He respected her intelligence and strength. But this attitude of answering to no one would have to go. He knew so firsthand. His failure to heed the words of his priests because of his own pride and arrogance had cost him everything—his kingdom, his people and, most importantly, his family. Hundreds of years later and a lifetime in service to make up for a fatal mistake would not matter if he failed to convince Ixa to stand by his side. She was his one chance not only to regain his humanity but also to have what he desired most again…a family. Demands, though, would get him nowhere. As he took the emergency stairs up to the roof, he considered how to curtail his woman without breaking her spirit. She didn’t see him as her mate yet, someone she needed to have in her life, someone worthy of her respect.

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He had his work cut out for him. His blood hummed at the challenge and he took the stairs two at a time, determined to find Ixa that much faster. How he savored her name in his mind. Finally, the one woman, the one cihuatl, meant for him. His spirit mate. His savior. He had to make her believe. Failure was not an option. Failure meant death. At the top of the stairs, he raised his hands, palms outward, and released a wave of energy. It would disrupt the connection to the door’s alarm long enough for him to open it and step outside. Once on the roof, he strode immediately to the edge, letting his eagle rise up to provide him with sharp sight. It didn’t take him long to spy her hurrying through the parking lot. In human form, he’d never reach her in time. He called up his eagle and embraced the change. Spreading his wings, he launched skyward and then like a missile dove towards his target. He swooped down, landing effortlessly in front of her. He used his large wings to generate a small windstorm and within its protection rapidly shifted, away from any possible witnesses. He heard her gasp as he clothed himself. Her eyes glittered with emotion and he noted the way her hand had crept up to the butt of her gun. Before she could react, he closed the distance between them. He reached out to hold her, believing a physical connection would ground her and keep her from fleeing. The moment his hand wrapped around her forearm, power surged between them. A breeze whipped up, carrying the scent of fresh mountain air and spring flowers, chasing away the harsher odors of fuel and exhaust from the nearby streets. His hand tightened, unwilling to shatter the connection. From deep in his soul a memory broke free, floating upward, filling his mind. His family. His


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parents. His brothers and sisters. One by one they had been killed because of him. A mighty leader descended from nobles, he’d been arrogant, believing himself undefeatable. Despite his skill, he had been unable to save them. He had failed them. Their tranquil faces blew away in the breeze. He could not hold on to the memories, but he could hold on to Ixa. Heat radiated from her body. Under his fingertips, he felt her power, wild and untamed. He knew she carried the mark of Huitzilopochtli. Manuel wondered what else she carried that made a demon want her so badly. One thing was for certain—she was his spirit mate. The tumble of emotions she stirred up in him after centuries of feeling nothing told him she could be none other. He would not fail her. Failure meant she would be lost and he would be lost too. “Don’t ever run from me,” he said harshly. She tugged at her arm. “You’re hurting me.” Reluctantly, he loosened his grip and let his hand fall away. He watched her carefully for signs that she would bolt. Her breath sawed in and out of her lungs as if she had run a great race. She pulled her arms back and wrapped them around her waist. He didn’t care for the stricken look in her eyes. Shame spilled through him. He wanted to reach out and wipe away pain he had created, but he kept his hands at his sides. “Ixa, you need to be protected. I guarantee you will not be able to fight a demon using your usual methods.” “Demon or not, I’m not afraid of Galante.” Her chin jutted in defiance. His woman had the instincts of a warrior. He admired her bravado. Still, the eagle sensed her trepidation. She practically vibrated with anxiety.

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“Then tell me, Detective, what are you afraid of?” He took a step forward. She took a step back. He felt his eyes bleed golden and the eagle spirit peeked out. Her tongue came out to wet her bottom lip. He found the tiny movement fascinating. She stood so close. He wanted to pull her into his arms and taste her again. He craved her with a hunger that he knew only she could satisfy. “Are you afraid of me?” She shook her head. Her body seemed frozen in place. Manuel wasted no time. He pounced, capturing her mouth as he reeled her into his embrace.


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Her tattoo flared and fluttered to life. A cool breeze kicked up and swirled around her body like a hand caressing her flesh. Her entire body cried out for this man, craving his touch. She didn’t trust it, didn’t want it. Everything inside her shouted for her to get herself under control. She was in the precinct parking lot. She was a cop. But right now she felt anything but cool, collected and calm. Her body hummed with desire. Tangling it up with a so-called shadow warrior was not doing things by the book, but the play of his lips against hers felt so right. If anyone saw her now, she would lose all credibility. She had worked so hard to earn their respect. Reason finally triumphed. She broke off the kiss and stepped away from his arms. Ixa blew out a breath and tried to stay focused, which was difficult when her body wanted to do the horizontal mambo. He folded his arms across his chest and watched her, those golden eyes tracking every movement she made. Her tattoo itched and burned, the warm sensation gone. She gritted her teeth against the pain. On the wind blew a scent that wrinkled her nose and made her gag. Manuel moved in closer. His body went rigid, molten desire no longer written all over his face. His eyes flashed gold. A shiver ran up her back. She could feel the weight of eyes on her. She spun around. Across the busy intersection, Galante stood with an evil grin upon his half-skeletal face—the same smile he’d worn the night he shattered her world.

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People moved around him as if he wasn’t there, oblivious to the hideously disfigured man. A delivery truck zoomed by. One second he was there and the next he was gone. “You saw him, didn’t you?” she asked nervously. “Yes.” Manuel put a protective arm around her shoulders. “He will not harm you so long as I am around.” She stiffened, unwilling to put her trust in a man she barely knew, to lean on him in any way. That road led to nothing but heartbreak. She slipped out from his sheltering hold and rubbed her arm where the pain had died down. “We don’t have much time. We have to get you somewhere safe. It is not only you who risks death, but the future of all mankind.”

Manuel sat behind the wheel of a shiny black Escalade. The oversized SUV maneuvered down the modest suburban neighborhood lined with sun-bleached ranch homes. She rolled her eyes. “The FBI must pay well.” He turned his head slightly and laughed. His eyes remained hidden behind dark sunglasses and her fingers twitched in her lap with the urge to remove them and see into those golden orbs. “Let’s just say Huitzilopochtli takes care of his warriors.” She laughed too. The action made her momentarily forget the madness of the day and the warm waves of energy pulsating off him. The sensation kept her calm even though she felt anything but. Her entire body was wound so tight she was afraid she would explode. She tucked her hands between her legs, all too aware of the man next to her and the power zinging down her arm to her fingertips.


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Ixa turned her attention back to the street. “You can pull in here.” Manuel parked the SUV in the driveway. She got out and Manuel followed suit. Walking up to the door, Ixa contemplated what to tell her abuelo. She worried about his health and wasn’t sure how he would take the news that he had to leave the only home he knew. The home where he had been brought up, married, raised a family of his own, and when her parents had died, raised her too. Ixa halted. “This is ludicrous. I can’t remove my abuelo. He’s too old.” She turned to Manuel and put up her hand. “I’ve thought about it and I won’t be terrorized. I have a gun and I can protect my abuelo and myself.” Manuel didn’t stop to listen. He pressed his chest up against her outstretched palm. She could feel the solid muscle beneath his shirt. His heart beat strong. Her tattoo picked up the rhythm and thrummed along. He placed his hand over hers. “Ixa, this is not a game. The tzitzimime will come for you. A demon will stop at nothing. Even a gun cannot protect you. But I can.” She didn’t doubt his words. This close, surrounded by his energy, she felt a bit intimidated—a feat not easily accomplished considering she walked around with a badge and a gun. A part of her recalled all those nights at her abuelo’s knee, listening to tales of the Aztec gods and even of the revered shadow warriors. Tales of their bravery and their fierce battles had mesmerized her. Now, in the presence of one, she had to admit—if only to herself—she was impressed. The realist in her knew that Galante would stop at nothing. He was a murdering bastard who had killed her family, and if he wanted her dead that badly, he wouldn’t hesitate putting a bullet into her abuelo in the process. The

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scared little girl inside her knew that demons did lurk in the shadows, and monsters lay in wait and killed for the joy of it. Such a monster was on the loose—could she afford to keep pushing away her heritage in hopes that the modern world would provide a solution to an ancient problem? Her visions had proven true so many times, and each time she had been impotent to prevent them. What if her next vision revealed she was next? Her abuelo always believed her abilities were gifts and yet they had brought nothing but misfortune to her doorstep. The gods were knocking—the big question was if she was ready to open the door and accept the warrior by her side and everything that he symbolized. Sunglasses hid his eyes and masked his expression. “Remove your glasses.” Using his free hand, he did as she asked. She studied the face of the man before her. When she interrogated men, she found their eyes revealed the truth. She noted each tiny scar and every single line of his handsome face. But it was his unwavering gaze that had her captivated. His golden eyes penetrated through her, down to her soul. In his eyes she recognized an old soul. Instinctively, she wanted to reach out and touch him, to soothe the demons she was certain he fought within himself. Instead, she pulled her hand away and took a step back. She couldn’t afford to make a mistake here. Every time she’d tapped into her power it had given her nothing but heartache. Looking at Manuel, she knew if she let him in that she would be risking the biggest heartbreak of all. Her tattoo remained warm, a tingly feeling that told her he was not evil. “Are you ready?” He crossed his arms over his chest, a smug smile on his face.


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“Perhaps.” She didn’t know if she was a hundred percent ready, but if it meant protecting her abuelo from a demon, then she would accept the shadow warrior and everything else the gods sent her way. “Good.” The smile faded from his face. “Then let’s get your abuelo.” Together they approached the door. She touched the door handle and inserted the key, when her tattoo flared up. Pain bit into her flesh, burning a trail up her arm. She turned back to Manuel, uncertain. His eyes glowed with golden fire. Manuel pushed her behind him. Fear crawled up into her throat. She reached for her gun and bent low. Manuel twisted the key and threw open the door. Galante looked up from where he was pulling picture frames off the living room wall and dropping them onto the tiled floor. A malicious grin spread across his face. Worse, he wasn’t alone. “Freeze! Put your hands behind your head, both of you, now,” Ixa ordered from behind him. “Get back in the car. It isn’t safe for you here,” Manuel practically growled at her. He could feel his eagle rising up, eager to do battle. Two demons would command all of his attention. He couldn’t afford to be distracted by Ixa’s presence. “Your abuelo is not here, Detective. Where is he?” Galante dangled a photograph from between his fingers. “Stay the hell away from my abuelo, Galante. It’s me you want, not him.” Manuel heard the slight tremble in her voice. She feared for her relative. He had no time to reassure her, as he had to watch the movements of the two tzitzimime very carefully. Demons were tricky and deceitful.

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Galante blew on the photo and it exploded into flames. Ixa cried out and made a move forward. Manuel threw up his arm to block her. He cursed himself for letting his libido distract him outside. Galante cackled, while his partner let out a strange high-pitched giggle, the earsplitting combination loud enough to mess with his focus. Galante cut off his laughter abruptly. “I don’t give a damn about your old man. Metztli wants him.” He pointed a finger directly at Ixa. “After I deliver gramps to my master, I will cut your heart out.” Fury and fear mixed together, making for a potent cocktail. The warrior in him would not let the putrid demons touch his spirit mate. He would not fail her as he had his family so many centuries ago. He threw his hand in the air and called for his mystical weapon. “Atlatl!” The smooth wooden spear-thrower materialized in his hand. The deadly shaft-shaped bow held the dart in its cradle. The atlatl and its dart had been the weapon Cortez and his conquistadors had feared the most. And for good reason—the simplistic-looking bow and arrow had the speed and accuracy to pierce Spanish armor and had sent many a man to meet his maker. Galante laughed, “What are you going to do with that stick, cabrón? Poke me to death?” “Yes, I am.” With the flick of his arm, the needle-sharp dart went flying into Galante’s chest cavity. Shock and anger contorted the demon’s face. Wounded but not down, Galante shouted at his companion, “Get him!” The second demon flew across the floor. Manuel ran forward to meet him, ramming into the second demon’s chest and driving him back into the wall. The last picture frame left hanging shook and fell, the glass crashing on impact. The


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tzitzimime clawed at Manuel’s back, raking the skin. His eagle let loose a loud cry and pushed to take over. Manuel ordered his beast back down. He had to maintain his humanity. He had spent so long tracking Galante he had not eaten for days and anyone who got in the eagle’s way was considered food, including Ixa. He could sense the eagle’s severe hunger. He threw the tzitzimime off. Cloying, black smoke filled the room. Manuel spun around searching for the second tzitzimime. His eagle eyes spied Galante through the smoky air. The demon pulled the spear from his chest. He broke the wood in half and threw it across the room. Manuel let out a warrior cry and went for Galante. The demon’s eyes blazed with a hellish fire, his sights set on Ixa. “I will be back for you.” Before Manuel could reach him, Galante disintegrated into smoke and poured out through the open door. Manuel cursed himself for being a second too slow. His failure could cost Ixa her life, just as it had his family long ago. A piece of his past reared its ugly head. He had underestimated his enemy before, and it seemed he was destined to repeat the same mistake. He vowed not to fail again. His eagle spirit screeched and clawed his insides, demanding to be released. Manuel turned to see Ixa squaring off against the remaining tzitzimime. This one looked scraggly and weak but no less deadly. “Police. Freeze.” “Get out of here,” he ordered. “I’m not leaving,” she snapped back. Damn stubborn cihuatl was going to get them both killed. His emotions warred with his eagle spirit. He had half a mind to drag her out of the house to

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safety, but the other half of him admired her bravery. Still, he would not be disobeyed. “Leave now. Your weapons are useless.” He called up his will and pushed it on her. He felt her resistance. He knew she was no ordinary human, but her level of power shocked him. “A bullet can slow him down and it’s all I have.” He wanted to argue, to tell her she wielded a greater power, but his momentary distraction was all the tzitzimime needed. The demon rushed him and they both tumbled backwards, knocking into a coffee table that broke under their combined weight. Manuel used both his hands to squeeze the tzitzimime’s throat. The demon tried frantically to break the hold. Manuel spared a glance towards Ixa and saw she stood in a police stance with one arm supporting the other. A gunshot exploded and black slime splattered from the demon’s arm. Green ooze dripped down, burning through skin and flesh. Manuel grimaced and the demon seized the opportunity to break free. The tzitzimime leaped off him and launched himself at Ixa. She ran behind a large recliner, keeping the piece of furniture between them. The tzitzimime grabbed the chair, lifted it into the air and tossed it aside like a child’s toy. Manuel jumped on the demon’s back before he could attack Ixa. The demon whirled around the room, bumping into the sofa and a side table, trying to knock Manuel off. From the corner of Manuel’s eye, he caught sight of Ixa aiming her weapon. Another gunshot sounded. Pain tore through Manuel’s rib cage. His grip loosened and he fell to the cool tile. Excruciating pain seared in his gut and his lungs struggled for air. She’d shot him. He placed a hand over the exit wound in his chest. Blood poured between


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his fingers. He tried to keep his eyes on the demon and Ixa, but his vision blurred. He had to get back up. He had to take the demon down. He could not fail. Inside, his eagle raged for freedom. Losing blood and strength, he was unable to control his beast any longer. The eagle rose up and pushed to the surface. The eagle didn’t hesitate. In a flurry of bone and feathers, the eagle reshaped his battered body. The eagle pressed him down and took over. Maneuvering within the narrow confines of the living room, the eagle moved with speed and agility, taking the demon by surprise. The bird of prey plucked the eyes from the demon’s head. The demon screamed an agonizing sound that shook the house’s structure. Deep within, Manuel watched his eagle make another pass, coming in like a heat-seeking missile, its beak aimed for the tzitzimime’s chest. Hunger and the desire to kill drove the great bird forward. It ripped through skin, bone and muscle, and yanked the heart from the body. The demon sank to the floor. Victorious, the eagle let out a screech. In the middle of the living room a shimmering circle appeared—the doorway to the netherworld. The eagle heard the woman cry “Wait!” but it didn’t care. Deep within his animal spirit, Manuel tried to get the bird to turn around but his beast refused to bend to his will. The smell of fresh meat and the need to satiate its hunger were too strong. The eagle spread its wings, and with a great push of wind, picked up the tzitzimime’s body in its talons and headed directly for the netherworld.

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Chapter Five

Ixa stared at the wall where Manuel had disappeared carrying the demon’s broken body. Her hummingbird tattoo no longer throbbed with pain, but the nausea in her stomach wouldn’t subside. She had shot Manuel. A moan sounded low in her throat. Blood, traces of green ooze, and black slime spattered the tiles and walls, testimony to the fierce fight. Her gun hand trembled, shock and anger mixed together in a tumult of emotions. Ixa dropped the offending weapon. Around her, the room vibrated with a wind that threatened to blow the house apart. She fought to keep her emotions together. “Why are you doing this?” she screamed to the empty room. “What did I ever do to you?” Power surged to her fingertips. She squeezed her hands into fists. All her life the gods had played a game with her, one with rules she didn’t understand, and deadly consequences. Visions of death plagued her—of her family, strangers—and every time she was helpless to stop them from coming true. She had hoped and prayed for guidance, but all she ever got in return was silence. So she had shut the gods out just as they had shut her out. She looked at the wall where Manuel had disappeared with the demon. “I’m listening now. You sent me Manuel and then you took him away, just like everything else in my life. Am I not good enough for you?” Despair welled up in her system. What if she wasn’t? Manuel had called her a warrior, but she was no better than the demons. All she ever did was hurt the innocent. She had hurt Manuel. Shot him. She had played it by the book because

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doing so was supposed to keep people safe. Only it hadn’t. Her rubber soles crunched over the broken glass and her heart twisted as she recognized the photo of herself as a very young girl standing between her parents, one of her hands in each of theirs, her sister on her mother’s hip. It was the last picture they’d taken together just before her parents and sister died in the fire. Those she loved ended up dead because of her. And now her abuelo was in danger. Her heart squeezed in agony. He was all the family she had left. She couldn’t afford to lose him. If only she had listened to Manuel. “Abuelo?” she shouted as she went from room to room. There was no sign of him and her mood darkened with each step. Her abuelo’s bedroom appeared as neat as usual, the recliner he sat in with his electric blanket empty and the walking stick he rested next to it gone. She prayed he was out for a walk and that any minute he would materialize out of thin air. All she could think of was the evil grin on Galante’s face. Papers and knickknacks funneled up in the middle of the room. A gust of wind blew out a window. Tears streamed down her cheeks. “No. No.” She hugged herself, unable to stop the storm she had manifested. Alone, abandoned and afraid, Ixa felt like a six-year-old girl again. Memories she had buried erupted forth, a Technicolor storm that bombarded her from all sides. She recalled sitting up in bed in her pink nightgown, her strawberry birthmark stinging her arm. She’d had the nightmare again. Only this time it was real. Hearing the glass break, she had run to the living room where she saw Galante gun down her father. She should have grabbed her little sister and mother and gotten them out—instead, it all played out like in her vision. Galante threw gasoline on them, missing her, and lit a match. His evil grin stamped across his face when flames leaped to life. The fire spread quickly. She had to put it out. Tears streamed down her face. The screams of her mother and sister

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ripped through her. It was then she had felt her power rise within her, billowing around her body. At six, she knew nothing of fire extinguishers or blankets—she was a child and she did as a child would do. She blew on the flames, hoping they would snuff out like birthday candles. It was then her power came with a burst of wind that fanned the blaze. She screamed for the gods to save her, to save her family, but all that answered was the crackle of fire consuming her house and the laughter of a deranged man who had called her a freak and run from the fire to save his own miserable life. Firemen rescued Ixa, but her parents and sister died. She’d tried to warn her parents when she told them of her visions. Why hadn’t they listened? She knew the answer, one as bitter as the tears that ran down her cheeks into her mouth. The gods had abandoned her. The same gods her abuelo believed in. He had taken her in, giving her the peace and acceptance she craved. But at what price? She sank to her knees, uncaring of the tears running down her face. There was no one to stop the onslaught of emotions. The house groaned and shook with her grief. The walls bowed and pressed outwards. A voice carried on the wind. “Ixa!” But she was rooted to the spot, her body unable to respond, caught up in a whirlwind of emotions. Strong arms came around her from behind and held her tight. Warmth spread over her body, chasing away the chill that had reached into her heart. The familiar scent of the mountains and the forest swirled around her, penetrating her brain, forcing her to snap out of her grief. “Manuel!” “My spirit mate. I am here now.” He pulled her back, fitting her against his solid chest, the feel of his body just perfect for her smaller frame.


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This time she allowed herself to sag against him. Her emotions ping-ponged all over the place, the effort to control them sapping her of energy. In Manuel’s arms she felt safe. As long as she didn’t depend on him, as long as she didn’t need him, she could take refuge in his strength. “That’s right, Ixa. Let me hold you.” His soothing voice made her heartrate slow down. “I thought you had left.” “I would never leave you.” Hearing his reassuring words pushed away the loneliness and fear. The wind died down. The walls stood still. Only when she felt her emotions come back under control did she find her voice. “I’m fine now.” He slowly released her. She turned to face him. He took her hand and helped her up to her feet, so they stood toe to toe. He wore his traditional garments, his bare chest marred with sweat and blood. Her eyes picked up on the spot where her bullet had torn across his side. Blood stained the right side of his rib cage. Shame lit her cheeks. “I’m sorry. I should have listened to you.” “Do not worry. I am a shadow warrior. I will heal.” He brushed aside her wind-tossed hair, his hand light against her skin. “It is you I am concerned about.” His hands roamed over her body. The slight touch made her body quiver. “You are unharmed.” He let out a breath. His eyes glowed with a fierce protectiveness and his hands lingered on her hips as if he were hesitant to let her go. The woman she had grown up to be didn’t want his protection—she had fought her way up the ranks and stood up to bad guys on a daily basis. Yet a part

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of her wanted to lean on him and not worry about standing alone or feeling set apart, to be able to be herself and all that meant. Except danger lay in that direction. If she came to love him like she had her family and the gods snatched him away from her, too, she didn’t think she could survive. In her head she knew once his mission was complete, he would be gone. And she would be back to following the rules, fitting into the mold and proving herself so she could have a place in the world. No, it was probably better she keep her distance. She had nearly killed Manuel once—she didn’t need any more blood on her hands. As much as she wanted to stay in his arms, she extracted herself. They had a job to finish. His eyes tracked the destruction in the room. “You have power over the element of wind.” Ixa shook her head. “No, it has power over me.” “I can help you learn how to control it.” Feeling foolish and insecure, she did what she did best—she went into interrogation mode. “Finding my abuelo is what’s important. Now what did you do with that creepy, deformed creature?” She stared directly at him. His golden eyes glowed. His face became serious and unreadable. “I dragged the tzitzimime back to the netherworld. He is gone.” “The what?” “Tzitzimime. Demons, evil spirits that prey on the weak, steal their bodies and devour their souls. More than likely the demon struck a deal with an Aztec god bent on destroying the world and lost his soul in exchange for immortality. Too bad I destroyed him.” A wicked grin came over his face.


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Panic threatened to rise up in her breast. “Why? He was the only lead we had. We could have interrogated him, found out why the killings are happening, or at least where Galante may have gone…” She turned away and fisted her hands to her sides. “Or where my abuelo is.” Manuel touched her arm and made her face him. “I promise you. We will find your abuelo and stop Galante.” He ran the back of his knuckles down her cheek. “You are my spirit mate. I will protect you.” Ixa wanted to believe him. Wanted to give up all the rules, all the procedures and lose herself in the lore and bedtime stories her abuelo used to tell her, but the creatures that had attacked them had been no myth. Reality had taught her to stand strong. Even the people you love couldn’t guarantee they would be around when you needed them. Her parents had died and left her alone. Now her abuelo was gone. If only she knew where he was. She closed her eyes, not wanting to cry again, afraid of losing control. A vision swam up, flooding her mind, beating against her like the ocean upon the shore. Her abuelo sat meditating on the floor with his eyes closed and his body relaxed. The scene shifted. He was struggling, suffocating on the black smoke engulfing his body. Galante’s skeletal features rose up, blotting out the rest. Ixa opened her eyes with a snap. Her breath was shallow and fast. She felt Manuel’s hand on her shoulder. “Ixa, are you all right?” She shook her head. “We need to find my abuelo, now.”

The SUV churned up dust behind them as they ate up the dirt-paved road that led through the desert.

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Ixa sat pale in the seat next to him. For most of the ride she had hardly spoken, but the wind that stirred in the truck’s cabin spoke volumes. Manuel wanted to pull over and draw her across the seat and into his arms, hold her and reassure her that he would protect her and make everything right, but he had already made that promise and had failed. Twice Galante had gotten close to Ixa. Having his head in his pants and not where it should have been nearly cost them their lives. He had to remain focused. But having Ixa so damn close was a temptation even the gods themselves could not resist. Her body called to his. Every time she was near he wanted to explore her, touch her, feel her and bury himself deep within her until he had no idea where she ended and he began. Just the thought had him growing erect. He cursed himself as he tightened his grip on the steering wheel. “Are you sure we will find him here?” Manuel could see nothing outside his windshield but dried-up bushes and a few cactuses spread out here and there in the vast desert landscape. “Yes. Abuelo has a small cabin on the edge of the Anza-Borrego Desert where he goes to meditate.” He wanted to ask how she was so certain that he would be here, except his main concern was Ixa herself. As long as she was safe by his side, he would follow her lead…for now. He had come so close to losing her earlier. He had cursed his eagle spirit for abandoning her. Once he had dropped the carcass in the netherworld and devoured enough to heal his wounds, he had shot back immediately to be with her. The eagle inside him squawked, still upset that it had not had a chance to eat its fill. He knew it was a dangerous gamble. The longer he went without feeding his spirit, the weaker he became. The eagle spirit peeked out and eyed the woman next to him. It shook its head in disgust and wondered about the taste of her flesh. Manuel shoved the beast back down. He


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clutched the steering wheel and kept his eyes on the barren road ahead. Hopefully, her abuelo would be there and then he could find someplace private where he could lay down with Ixa and satisfy another hunger. On the horizon, a shape took form. Ixa straightened in her seat. “There’s the cabin.” The tires skidded on the dirt as he pulled up to the one-story clapboard cabin. He hadn’t come to a full stop before Ixa was out and running. He stepped out of the vehicle and surveyed the land. There was nothing but desert as far as the eye could see. It was a perfect place to meditate…or kill. His eagle became alert. “Ixa!” He strode into the small house. All seemed at peace. From his standpoint, he could take in the entire cabin—an open room with a single twin bed, a small kitchenette and two chairs nestled by a potbelly stove. Ixa stood rigidly upon an ornate Mexican throw rug that covered the middle of the floor, holding a paper in her hand. By her feet lay a long wooden walking stick. “He writes that he must take care of something, that he’ll only be gone a day or so.” She slowly bent and picked up the stick. Her fingers squeezed the shaft. “I’ve never known him to go far without this,” she said, her voice barely audible. She clung to the paper, her gaze filled with hope and uncertainty. “For now, let us believe he is safe.” He moved up behind her and put his arms around her, wanting to give her his strength and reassurance. Her body was warm and soft, but he could feel a cold air shift around her, sending a chill up his spine. Her arm vibrated with power. The walking stick captured his attention. Long and smooth, the wooden top had been rubbed to a polish by use. Manuel slid his hand over Ixa’s. Together they held the stick.

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Power blew over and around them, encircling them. Air gathered and condensed, the pressure building until they were in the eye of a storm. “What’s happening?” Ixa cried out. Manuel tightened his hold on her, afraid she would be sucked into the funnel. He widened his stance and planted his feet, drawing her closer to his body. He felt every soft curve and the smell of her femininity rose up into his nostrils. Clean and crisp, she reminded him of the breeze that blew through his village in the Yucatan. Memories of faces and places he had not seen in so long swirled around him in the tornado. His heart filled with hope and joy. He clung tighter to Ixa. She grounded him, made him feel, made him want—still, everything was just beyond his reach and flowed through his fingers like the air that roared around them. He wanted to reach out and grab back the past but he knew he could not. Ixa was his second chance. He would not fail her. She was his spirit mate and he would protect her, even from herself. “You have to control the wind!” “I can’t.” He sensed her trepidation. He grabbed the stick and willed the wind to calm. His hand burned red hot and a strong force blew him back. Ixa dropped the stick. It hit the floor with a thud. The tornado dissipated as fast as it had come. She stepped back from the offending object. “What the hell did you do?” she asked him, her eyes wide with wariness. “Not me.” Manuel truly looked at the stick. He let his eagle spirit glide up. The animal peeked out and assessed the ordinary object…although it was anything but ordinary. Pictograms and whorls of wind shimmered around the stick. His eagle bowed its head and let out a screech. Manuel pushed the bird back down. “It is a wind stick, heavily guarded by magic. The pictograms and glyphs carved in the wood proclaim the wind god, Ehecatl.”


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“Who?” She sat down on the rug next to the walking stick, though he noticed she kept a slight distance from it and eyed it warily as if it would come to life. “He was a powerful Aztec god that left the pantheon to marry a human woman.” Manuel sat down cross-legged in front of Ixa. He looked into her soft, brown eyes. He wanted to erase the worry and doubt that had seeped into them. But a few of his own fears were simmering just below the surface. Manuel understood the importance of the stick, but did Ixa? He had to find out what she knew. It was his turn to interrogate. “The wind god promised Huitzilopochtli that he would return. No one has heard from or seen him since. It makes me wonder how your abuelo came into the possession of such an important scepter.” Ixa brought her knees up and hugged them to her chest as if that would contain the power that threatened to erupt. Her gaze never strayed from her abuelo’s walking stick, though she kept her focus on Manuel’s voice. His baritone wrapped around her, providing the comfort she needed but could not ask for. “I don’t know. For as long as I can remember, Abuelo has always walked with a stick.” The image of her abuelo’s smiling face floated through her mind. Her visions threatened to steal it away. She shook her head, afraid of what else the vision might bring. She needed to focus on something else. “Tell me about Ehecatl.” “It is an old story. Surely, your abuelo taught you our ways.” Ixa stiffened. “He tried to.” Manuel reached forward and took her hands between his. His rough hands slid back and forth over hers, warming her insides and making the tattoo on her arm pulse.

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“Ehecatl in Nahuatl language means wind. He was the great Aztec god of the wind, and he sat in the pantheon among other great gods like Quetzalcoatl and Huitzilopochtli. His breath moved the sun and pushed away rain. Every day, he would look down onto the Earth and watch the people, blowing in and out of their lives. He adored humans and gave them fresh air to breathe. About nearly a century ago, he spied a beautiful maiden gathering corn. Her name was Mayahuel. He fell in love. He descended to Earth never to return to the pantheon again.” “Mayahuel.” Ixa smiled. “That was my great-grandmother’s name.” Manuel looked at her quizzically. “Not a very common name.” Ixa gently pulled her hands back and stood. She crossed the room to an old wood dresser. “My great-grandmother originally settled in this cabin. My abuelo likes to come here. He says it brings him peace.” She pulled open the drawer and took out a leather-bound photo album. She hugged the book to her breast. “In here is my family.” She quickly went back to the rug and sat down beside Manuel, her thigh lightly touching his. Lovingly, she opened the album and turned the page. Inside lay an old sepiacolored photo of a woman dressed in Native American garb. Long black braids woven with cornhusks and ribbons framed her round face. “Abuelo says I look very much like her.” Manuel reached over and tugged her braid. “Definitely beautiful.” Self-consciously, Ixa swept her braid back over her shoulder. She knew her looks were ordinary, her face too round and her eyes too brown. Still, the way he looked at her made her feel beautiful. Manuel took the album from her and quickly thumbed through the pictures. “Do you have a picture of your great-grandfather?” “No. Abuelo was an illegitimate child, but Mayahuel raised him with love.”


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“Not that I would expect to recognize him,” Manuel mused. “He had no known permanent physical form. Among the Aztecs he was called Our Father, the mover of matter in the universe. In Nahuatl we say Yohualli Ehecatl.” “Did you say Yohualli?” She shook her head in disbelief. “That is my abuelo’s last name.” Manuel looked her up and down, eyeing her suspiciously. “How old is your abuelo?” “Eighty-seven. Why?” Manuel scrubbed his hands over his face. “It makes sense. Your tattoo. Your powers.” He smiled wickedly, his eyes glowing. “You are the ancestor of the wind god.” “No. Sorry, but I’m not.” She paused. “Abuelo would have told me.” Or had he tried and she simply hadn’t listened? Her eyes came to rest on a picture of herself. She stood, beaming with pride next to the captain, holding an award for protecting the streets of San Diego. In the background her abuelo remained off to the side. She wanted to cry. Never before had she felt so ashamed. All her life she had shunned who she was, angry at the gods for letting her family die. She’d been so determined to grow up and finish what her father had started. Putting Galante in jail had given her purpose. Her abuelo had tried to remind her that she was more and should embrace her heritage. Instead, she had pushed aside the past and continuously chased the future—one that she now realized would leave her without her abuelo or a place to belong. She felt Manuel’s hand on her shoulder. “It is imperative we find your abuelo.”

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Ixa stood, forcing Manuel’s hand off her shoulder and back onto his lap. She moved a few feet away, her body rigid and her hands fisted at her sides, as if she were trying to hold herself together. His heart gave a curious wrench at the sight. She appeared forlorn and fragile. Words Manuel would never associate with the woman who had blown into his existence only that morning. His eagle cried out, wanting the freedom of the open skies. Manuel pushed his animal spirit down. For so long, he had flown over humans in pursuit of the next demon, uncaring of their emotions. Ixa had changed all that. In a short span of time, she had become his everything, the primary reason to push on and believe that he could regain his humanity. Seeing her this way brought up every protective feeling he ever had. He rose to his feet and approached her carefully. A light wind flowed around the room, causing the curtains to sway slightly. So much power in that small body, and she was afraid of it. He could help her learn to control it if she would let him. “Ixa, if I am correct and you and your abuelo are direct descendants of Ehecatl, then there is much more at stake than any of us conceived.” She turned toward him. Her lower lip trembled. “I don’t know where my abuelo is or how he is doing. What if Galante finds him before I do? He’s all I have. I don’t want to lose him.” Tears spilled from her eyes like raindrops. He reached out and gathered her to him, relishing the way her body molded perfectly to his. Her silky hair brushed his chin. He wanted badly to unbraid that

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luxurious mane and bury his fingers in it, but he contented himself with keeping his hands clasped behind her back and simply holding her. “Your abuelo left you a message so that you would not worry. Everything will be all right.” “How do you know that? My father said the same thing the night he died. But it wasn’t all right. My father was a strong man, a cop who wanted to make the world better, but thugs like Galante don’t care. They hurt people just because they can. He broke into my house when I was a child. I watched him shoot my father and burn my mother and sister. I can still hear their screams.” Ixa took in a ragged breath and pressed her cheek against his chest. “We will find your abuelo. Galante is not going to win this time. But I need you to listen to me. You will not be the only one to suffer if we don’t stop Galante.” When he was certain he had her attention, he explained. “Every shadow warrior is born with an animal spirit. Mine is the eagle you have seen. With each demon kill, pieces of our humanity slip away. Eventually, our humanity is all gone and we are forever condemned to remain in our animal form. Our only hope is to find our spirit mate, someone marked by the gods with the huitzil, a hummingbird. It is a sign that she is a guardian destined to fight on the side of good, on the side of my lord sun god, Huitzilopochtli.” He looked directly into her beautiful brown eyes. “You are my spirit mate.” She shook her head. “You don’t know what you are asking. I’m not good enough. I can’t save your soul. I can’t save anyone.” “Yes, you can. You will need to embrace your heritage and your power.” He heard her breath hitch in her throat. She pushed out of his arms. She rubbed her hands lightly over both arms. “Oh no. You don’t know what you are asking me to do.” Once more a breeze flowed through the room. “Yes, I do.” He held out his hand to her. “You have to trust me.”

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She backed away from him. “I trust you. It’s me I don’t trust.” The wind picked up and whipped her braid over her shoulder. “Manuel, because of me, my family is dead. I wanted to save them from the fire and blow out the flames, but I couldn’t control my power. All I did was make everything worse. I made the fire grow bigger. I fanned the flames that consumed my mother and sister.” He could sense her loss of control and the deep grief that clung to her heart. “I understand you better than anyone. My arrogance cost me my family, and for that I paid the ultimate price, but it is not your fault, Ixa—you were a child and not to blame. Galante stole your family away, not you.” She shook her head, her braid coming undone in the wind. “Please, I need you to stay with me. Your emotions are feeding the wind. You must remain calm.” He reached over to pull her into his embrace but she turned and fled the cabin. His eagle screeched. Manuel took off after her. “Ixa, wait!” She came to a halt and turned around. “No, you wait. All my life my abuelo believed my abilities were a gift, but they are a curse. Everyone I love dies because of me. What you are asking me to do will ultimately get you killed.” Color leached from her face. Fear shone in her eyes. “I don’t want to hurt you.” Ixa wrapped her arms around her torso. A cold blast of air cut through the desert heat, kicking up dirt and tumbleweeds. A cloud of sand gathered on the horizon. He could sense the eagle’s restlessness. Irritation at himself bubbled in his chest. He was botching this mission. He had to convince Ixa that she was capable of controlling her power. Failure meant his enemies would get the best of him. He’d vowed never to go down that road again and he’d meant it. He stepped toward her with purpose, leaning into the wind. Bits of sand pelted him. Frustrated and afraid the damn woman would manifest another


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tornado, he pulled her into his arms. Her body pressed against the length of his. He took her hand and placed her palm over his heart. He looked deep into her eyes, willing her to feel everything he felt for her. “Ixa, you can’t hurt me. You are a guardian. You bear the hummingbird mark and you are my spirit mate.” The air whipped around them. Anguish built inside her. Surely there was another way to fight against this evil, one that didn’t require her to tap into her power. She wanted to believe, but every time she unintentionally used her powers, people got hurt. They died. Why couldn’t he understand that? She stared up into Manuel’s eyes and saw his trust and acceptance. She barely knew the man. And yet, he was willing to believe in her. Her abuelo believed in her and she had let him down. She had chosen to fit in over accepting her heritage, and she may have put her abuelo at risk because of it. Worry, confusion, guilt all collided within her, pulling her to a place she feared to go. She felt like she was teetering on the edge of an abyss. Below her, a dark, fathomless pit awaited. She was terrified of falling into it, of never being able to find her way out. What if it sucked her up and she found herself with nothing to hold on to? What if she lost herself in that darkness? Around her, the air grew stronger as if pushing her towards that edge. Pebbles hit the windowpanes of the cabin and debris from the ground slammed against their legs. “You don’t understand. I can’t control it. These powers are not a gift—they are a curse. Horrible things happen.” “I can help you.” “No one can help me. Not even the gods want to help me.” Inside her, a storm of emotions fought for dominance. She had to get farther away from the cabin. So many memories were tied to this house, this land. She couldn’t let it all

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be destroyed because of her freakish ability. She pressed her hands against Manuel’s chest. “I’m sorry.” With a shove of power, she blew him back. Ixa ran towards the car, ignoring Manuel’s shouts behind her. If she could get in the car and drive away, maybe, just maybe… With each step, the wind kicked up a frenzy, swirling all around her. She brought her hands up to protect her face. Sand and wind blasted her from several directions. A dust cloud of towering proportions roared up before her, blocking her path to the vehicle. “Get down!” Manuel appeared in front of her, massive wings billowing out from his back taking the brunt of the sandstorm. He grabbed her, pushed her down to the ground and huddled her into the curve of his body. Cocooned in feathers and strong arms, she heard only the sound of dirt and wind pounding down around them. Chaos ruled, yet in his arms she found a safe haven. Her tattoo flared to life. Her breath caught in her throat. His hands wrapped tightly around her, holding her, cradling her. Huddled within Manuel’s protective arms, the despair of ever living up to the legends of her ancestors didn’t seem such an insurmountable burden. His breathing feathered against the back of her neck, warm, sensuous, sending liquid heat to her core. Like a cat, she arched back against him, unable to resist the temptation of rubbing up closer. His body jerked. His arms tightened. Then his hands moved, spanning her waist before slowly moving up to cup her breasts. She shuddered. Around them, the storm raged, but within their self-made cocoon, she could only concentrate on the feel of his hands lightly squeezing her, of his fingers rubbing against her nipples, of his erection pressing against her backside.


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The emotional chaos that had driven her outside subsided, replaced by sexual heat so intense she thought she would burst into flames. The sound of the sandstorm died down abruptly. Manuel rose to his feet, pulling her up with him. He didn’t give her time to speak. He whirled her around and his mouth slammed down on hers. With everything she had, she kissed him back, her hands greedily thrusting into his hair, tugging his head down even as she lifted up on her toes. She understood the power of a volcano, all that intense heat searching for a release. Her body burned, burned for this one man. None of it made sense, and maybe when she found her sanity again she could figure it out, but right now, she simply wanted to let the heat consume her and forget reality. Manuel hungered for her. He had ever since he’d seen her in that warehouse. She belonged to him. His mouth devoured hers, needing to brand her, to make her realize that she was the other half of his spirit. Without her, he had no hope. He let his feelings pour into his kiss, saying with his lips and his tongue what he couldn’t say in words. And even if he did, would Ixa listen? She had closed herself off from her roots. Her mind warred with her instincts. His hands stroked her back from shoulder to bottom. He shaped her buttocks, pressing her against his erection. He desperately wanted to be inside this woman, to feel her womanly heat surround him and milk him until he had nothing left to give. She moaned into his mouth, making him deepen the kiss. She tasted of the sweetest honey, an intoxicating elixir that made him crave more of her. He wondered what she would taste like lower down. A hunger to lick and taste every inch of her had his blood thrumming in his ears. Her soft, warm curves grew hot in his hands. Within the cocoon of his wings, he sensed the air crackle and heat.

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He tore his mouth from hers. Light filled the darkness of the small enclosure his wings had made for them. “Your tattoo.” His eyes fixed on the light emanating through the fabric of her shirt. He felt an urge to run his fingers over her skin, but she covered the tattoo with her hand. She spoke softly. “The wind has died down. We should go.” Manuel let out a breath. He willed his libido to calm. Slowly he retracted his wings, folding the massive feathers away. His eagle peered out and screeched. “What the—? Did I do this?” Ixa looked around them in horror. Manuel stared about him, seeing the damage. Large sand dunes covered the landscape, one of them nearly blocking the entrance to the cabin. The SUV sat buried in sand halfway up the passenger doors. It would take time to shovel it out. “Come,” Manuel urged. The utter anguish on Ixa’s face tore at his heart. She tried to back away. “No. I can’t. I’m dangerous. Can’t you see? Look at what I did.” “What I see is my spirit mate, a beautiful woman, a guardian chosen by the gods to protect mankind. You have been gifted with the power of the wind from your great-grandfather. You have much to learn, but you can learn. Will you let me teach you? I can show you how to control your powers so this does not happen again, unless you choose for it to.” She bit her lip and glanced away. Slowly her head turned back to him. “You can really show me how to control this…ability?” “Of course.” He could read the indecision on her face. He didn’t understand it and they had so little time, but he couldn’t force her. She had to make the


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choice on her own. “The sun is beginning to set. Let us go inside to discuss this further.” She nodded and let him hug her close to his side as they made for the front door. She fit against him perfectly. Her scent teased his nostrils, filling his lungs and setting his nerves on fire. When he had his hand on the doorknob to the cabin, he paused. She looked up at him questioningly. “Be very sure. Once you cross this threshold, there is no going back. Our paths will be one.” In the deepening twilight, she kept her gaze locked on his, searching, seeking answers he supposed. He had nothing more to say. He simply held the door open and waited. Ixa crossed the threshold with trepidation. Every nerve in her body hummed. His kiss lingered on her lips and she could still feel the sensation of Manuel’s hands on her body. Her head told her to focus on the task at hand. He’d promised to teach her to control her power, but her body wanted him to teach her something else, something more carnal and basic. Manuel went to the potbelly stove and lit a fire. The small fire illuminated the small space. Firelight danced on the walls and across his chiseled face. She shivered—not from the cool desert night air pressing in through the cracks of the cabin, but from the determined look upon Manuel’s face. He chanted in a foreign language. She wanted to concentrate on the words, as they seemed familiar, but the shimmering air around him distracted her. His modern suit dissipated and was replaced by ancient warrior garb. Feathers adorned his hair and hung like a mantle over his bare chest. Her eyes followed the length of

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his flat stomach down to his slight hips covered with a white cotton loincloth embroidered with gold. Her mouth went dry. She should have never stepped back into the cabin. She should have stayed outside instead. The windows rattled. “Ixa.” Her head snapped up, only to discover a pair of eyes glowing gold fixed upon her. He approached softly with the steps of a predator tracking prey. “That’s right. Look at me. Concentrate.” He moved around her and came to stand behind her. She felt his hands slide up her arms and cup her elbows. Her tattoo flared to life. “I can feel your power,” he whispered into her ear. She stiffened. He rubbed his thumb back and forth along her skin. The soft touch made her arms quiver. “Relax. Tell me what you are feeling.” “Scared.” The single word was barely voiced. “Good. Take the emotion you feel and focus it on the fire.” He lifted her arm and pinched the pressure points at her elbow. Her fingers parted. “No, not fire. It will spread all over the place.” Images of her sister and mother engulfed in flames popped into her mind. The air kicked up. The firelight flickered. Fear crawled in her gut. She squeezed her eyes closed and shook her head. “No. I can’t do this.” “Yes, you can.” He pressed his body closer to hers. “You have to conquer your fear, and the only way is to face what frightens you the most. We can’t change the past but together we can take control of the present. Take a deep breath. Think of the wind and its strength. Use the strength within yourself to blow out the fire.” “I’m not that strong.” “You are stronger than you think.”


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Her heart skipped a beat. His belief in her touched her. For so long, she had hidden her abilities, afraid of what others thought, and had learned to hide behind a badge and a rulebook, denying who she was. Afraid that if her colleagues found out what happened that fateful night, they would blame her. Manuel didn’t blame her. With Manuel, she didn’t have to hide—he understood and accepted her. A new emotion replaced her fear. It welled in her breast, suffusing her with warmth. She didn’t examine it too closely—rather, she let it warm her, fill her and give her hope. She focused on the stove. Strands of wind extended from her fingertips. The air billowed the curtains. The flames flickered and sputtered. “That’s it, my hummingbird.” She felt the heat of his hand on her arm and the conviction in his voice. Her tattoo grew warmer. A stream of wind flowed out from her hand and extinguished the fire, throwing them into darkness. “I did it!” Ixa let out a whoop of joy and turned in his arms. She hugged him. “I controlled the wind.” “Yes, you did.” He lifted her off the ground and kissed her on the lips.

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The kiss threw her off-kilter. Her head spun at the energy that flowed between them and her entire body came alive. She should tell him to put her down, but in his strong arms she felt protected and feminine. She wrapped her arms around his neck. Her tattoo hummed and warmed on her bicep. His feather-soft hair tickled her hands. She stroked her fingers through his hair, eliciting a groan from him. Ixa took it as an invitation to be bolder. She pressed her mouth harder against his. His tongue slipped between her lips and swept inside. Her body burned. She wanted more of him. His hands moved down her back in long, languid strokes. Effortlessly he lifted her up off the ground. She wrapped her legs around his hips. It was madness. Ixa felt herself swept up into an intense, crazy storm of emotions, a whirlwind of want and desire. Always she had sat on the outskirts and watched others get involved in relationships while she had shied away, afraid of hurting another person she loved or of finding herself unlovable because of who she was. She had fooled herself with the notion that being one of the boys would be satisfying, but deep down she still hadn’t fit. In Manuel’s arms, she fit perfectly. Every curve of her petite frame fit right into the hard angles of his body. Manuel’s tongue laved her bottom lip and moved over her chin, licking a trail down her neck. She arched her neck, allowing him more access. She moaned her pleasure. “I can feel your need.” His voice came out in a growl.

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She could have denied it, but her body betrayed her. Her rock-hard nipples pressed into his chest. His hands roamed up and down her back, past her bottom, eliciting another moan from her. Eye to eye with Manuel, she could see his blatant desire, raw and heavy. No man had ever looked at her the way he did. Sure, with the job she was constantly surrounded by males and had been propositioned more than once, but a few choice words sent them packing and she soon had a reputation for being an ice bitch. She hadn’t dared let anyone too close—until now. Even so, her mind told her to be careful. When all was done, he would be back to chasing the next demon, or criminal, or whatever work the gods had planned for him. And where would that leave her? She would be foolish to get involved with him, except her body cried out for his touch and her heart longed to feel a connection to another, no matter how brief. For one night she wanted to lose herself in a man, to lose herself in intense pleasure like men and women had been doing since the dawn of time. For one night she simply wanted to feel normal. “Don’t make me any promises,” she rushed out as her legs slid down to support her once again. “Don’t pretend there’s more to this than there is.” Her hand rested against his chest. His heart beat steady and strong. His hand came up to cover hers, trapping it there against him. “You are an amazing woman, a courageous woman, but you fear that which you do not understand.” His hand came up, catching the bottom of her shirt, slowly lifting it as his gaze held hers. He dragged it over her head and tossed it aside. He attempted to unbutton her jeans but she pushed his hands aside and quickly shed them, along with her white cotton panties and bra. And then she

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was back in his arms, with his fingers skimming the indentation at her waist, trailing a path of flames that set all her senses on fire. “Tonight, I don’t want you to think. I want you to feel.” He caught the tip of her lobe between his teeth and nibbled, sending waves of heat through her bloodstream, making her womb clench and her breasts feel swollen and heavy. It was a wonder she could stand. His hand traveled upward until it was lightly brushing beneath her breast. She wanted him to reach higher. A whimper sounded in her throat. He blew softly into her ear. “What is it you want, Ixa? Tell me.” She stared up at him helplessly, unable to keep the truth down. “You,” she whispered. “Only you.” She was like a drug in his system. He couldn’t get enough of her. And when she admitted that she wanted him, triumph filled him. He didn’t give her time to rethink her answer. He brought his hand up to cup her breast, his thumb making lazy circles around her nipple. Her breath hitched and the sound made him even harder. He wanted her badly. Her hand came up to clasp his forearm, as if she was afraid he would snatch his hand away. Not possible. She moved him. He had nearly given up hope. His animal spirit grew stronger with each demon kill and he knew he had little time left. And then he found his spirit mate. Ixa made his blood heat and his body come alive. He hadn’t had sexual urges in centuries, yet they were back now, riding him hard. He dipped his head to the curve of her shoulder, inhaling her unique scent even as he bit gently, then blew on the mark he had made.


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“You smell like sunshine and fresh flowers,” he murmured against her skin. She brought her arms up to clasp around his neck, her breath coming out on a sigh. “We probably shouldn’t be doing this.” “Sure we should. You heard your lieutenant. He put you under my protection and I promised to take very good care of you.” He took her nipple and rolled it between his fingers, loving the soft little sounds she made in her throat. “I don’t think this is what my lieutenant had in mind.” “He has a very limited imagination.” Ixa laughed. The sound filled the room and made the darkness inside him recede further. For a moment, he could not move. He stared down into her exquisite features and felt the earth rock beneath him. She belonged to him. “What is it?” She appeared uncertain, the laughter disappearing from her eyes. “You. My world will never be the same now that I have met you.” Her cheeks colored, but she held his gaze. She leaned up and kissed him on the edge of his mouth. “My turn.” Ixa took his hand and led him over to the throw rug. “I want to taste you.” Her eyes held a mixture of shyness and boldness—a heady combination to a man who hadn’t had sex in centuries. He waited for her to make her first move. She put her hand under the loincloth and cupped his hard length. He sucked in a breath, savoring the feel of his manhood in her soft palm. Heat swamped him and his eagle stirred. He ignored his animal spirit, focusing only on the woman before him. She smiled, a womanly smile that held secrets and mystery. She slowly slid her fingers over his head and rubbed up and down his shaft. He threw his head back. When he felt her take him inside her

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mouth, his body shuddered in ecstasy. Hot and tight, her mouth gripped him, suckled him. Her hands came up to caress his balls, lightly squeezing, as her mouth drew him in and out in a rhythm that set all his senses on fire. His hands tugged at her braid, lifting it up and unraveling it. Her hair fell around her shoulders, a dark, silky waterfall. He moaned and thrust his hips forward, pushing his cock deeper into her throat. She took the full length of him and let him slip out. She licked her lips, then crooked her finger and patted the rug next to her. “Come lie with me, warrior.” He followed her down onto the soft material, gently pushing her back until he blanketed her with his body. He caught her face between his hands, wanting her to see him. There was no going back. He needed his spirit mate desperately. But Ixa could not conceive what she was getting into, what it would mean to be tied to him as a spirit mate. “You have no idea what you do to me.” His voice came out husky, emotions crowding in his throat. How long had it been since he had felt anything deeply? And all because of this woman. “Oh, I think I do.” Her eyes twinkled as her hand slipped under the cloth to stroke him. He pulled her hand away and brought it to his mouth, sucking on each finger, enjoying the flush working its way up her cheeks. “I want to explore every inch of you.” Her breasts were round and ripe. He brought his mouth down to take the dark tip in, sucking and nipping and laving first one and then the other, until she was writhing underneath him. He kissed his way down her flat stomach, paying particular care to her navel, loving the way her breath hitched in her throat. The scent of her traveled deep into his lungs, fresh and pure and entirely Ixa.


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He hadn’t thought he could get any harder, any thicker, but the sight of her magnificent body lying there beneath him like a feast for a starving man had him swelling larger. He brought one leg up over each of his shoulders, ignoring her shocked breath. Her sex glistened with cream, just for him. He brought his mouth down and stabbed deep. “Manuel,” Ixa screamed. He gripped her thighs so she couldn’t move and speared her with his tongue over and over. Energy swirled around them like a living entity, air blew up and over and around them. They were in the eye of a storm. Safe. Untouched. He felt Ixa’s body tensing. She was so close. “Please, Manuel. I can’t take anymore. I want you inside me.” Her head rocked from side to side. “Now, Manuel. Please.” Whispering ancient Aztec words, he willed his warrior clothing away. Still holding her legs, he thrust inside her, swallowing a moan at the feel of her wet channel surrounding him. She fit like a glove made just for him. He pumped in and out, wanting to go slow, but too caught up in the energy building around them. Ixa curled her fingers into the rug and then she screamed. Her muscles contracted, gripping him so tightly that he came as well, his seed flowing out of him and into her womb. The energy crackled and sparkled all around them. Colors danced on the air. He’d swear they were both lifted up by the wind flowing around them before landing softly back down. Slick with sweat, he lay down beside her and gathered her to him. His fingers rubbed gently over her hummingbird tattoo. It tingled at his touch. “I think we died,” Ixa whispered. Manuel smiled. She could do that to him. “No, we are very much alive.”

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“There is no way we can do that again. That must have registered on the Richter scale.” She yawned, her body soft and relaxed next to him. “Go to sleep, Ixa.” She nodded, her eyelids already closing. Her body snuggled up against his. He held her tight, listening to her soft breathing. He would let her sleep…for now. But soon, he needed to be inside her again, because inside her hot, silken sheath he had found peace. He had found a home. He had found his humanity and with it he hoped for the one thing he had not dared to believe he could ever deserve again…a family.

They lay spooned together on the small bed, where they’d eventually moved to from the floor. Ixa felt tired and spent in the aftermath of their lovemaking. The cool air of the cabin touched her skin. She shivered. “You cold?” “Yes.” She pressed her buttocks closer into the crook of his hips, seeking his body heat. He draped his arm over her. “I can restart the fire.” “No. Let me try.” She focused her thoughts on the hot embers that lay at the bottom of the potbelly stove. No longer a child afraid of her power and the past, she pursed her lips and blew. The fire was stoked and slowly rekindled. She waited to hear screams in her head. Silence reigned. Warm air picked up and caressed their bodies. She sighed in satisfaction. “You are doing well.” She twined her fingers with his. “It is you who taught me control.” He kissed her shoulder. “Tomorrow I will teach you more.”


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Ixa smiled halfheartedly. Worry crept up into the pit of her stomach. She had let herself get lost tonight with Manuel, but come the morning they both would be back to searching for her abuelo and Galante. She closed her eyes, and prayed that her abuelo was truly someplace safe tonight. Tomorrow morning, she would track him down and persuade him that whatever he was doing took a back seat to protecting him from Galante. She nestled closer to him. “Hold me.” “Forever,” he mumbled against her back. Ixa felt her heart squeeze. If only it could be true. But she knew from years of past experiences that nothing lasted forever. She closed her eyes and fell asleep listening to the rhythm of his beating heart. Boom…boom… The rhythm at first came soft and low, methodically lulling her into a false sense of calm. Then the beat changed to a fast, furious pace that hammered at the inside of her head. The vision shackled her into a small, dark corner hidden from the world of man. Images came in fuzzy and unclear, everything cast in shadows. Slowly Ixa emerged fully into the other place. Wet and damp, the smell of decay and rotting wood permeated her senses. A frail body huddled in a fetal position on a broken slab of cement, the face covered with bruised hands. Gathering sunlight offered feeble illumination, but enough to see the graffiti on dirty, smoke-stained walls, the swear words in English and Spanish a crude contrast to the daisy wallpaper peeking out beneath the grime. Desperately, she wanted to pull out of the nightmare. She couldn’t handle seeing another death. Watching another life she could not save drain away. But the vision wouldn’t release her. It swept her along in a torrent of wind, holding her captive.

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A laugh from a source unseen grated against her mind. Garbled voices chanted in the background while a figure came closer. A man with a half-skeletal face stepped from the shadows. Galante! He wore his evil grin, and she’d swear he reeked of madness. He grabbed the figure on the slab and held down the elderly person’s arms. Shock coursed through her as she recognized the beloved features of her abuelo. A lightning bolt cracked, and where the ground smoldered stood a man draped in a mantle of bones and teeth wearing a hideous rabbit mask. He raised his obsidian blade. Ixa kicked and thrashed, helpless to stop the event unfolding before her. “No!” she screamed.


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Sweat coated her body as Ixa lashed out in her sleep. Manuel put his hand on her bicep—it burned at the touch. The tattoo on her arm fluttered against his palm. Something was wrong. “Ixa, wake up.” He nudged her gently, afraid to startle her. She awoke with a jolt, her breathing coming in fast pants while her body trembled against his. She looked at him with panic. “He’s going to die.” His protective instincts kicked in. “Who?” “Abuelo.” She covered her face with her hands. “Shhh, nohuitzil.” Manuel pulled her into his arms. He could feel her erratic heartbeat against his bare chest. “It was only a nightmare, my hummingbird.” “No. It was a vision.” Manuel froze. “A vision?” He lightly pushed away from her to better see her. “Ixa, can you see things that are going to happen?” Her hands fell to her lap. “Yes,” she said quietly, her face full of shame. “My abuelo calls this, too, a gift from the gods. I call it another curse.” “Did you see visions of the women being killed?” Ixa dropped her hands, but she didn’t raise her head. She was usually tough, defiant, only now she wouldn’t look at him. When she spoke, the words seemed to be dragged from deep inside her. “I never wanted this. I never asked for this. Those women. I could do nothing to help them. I watched them die. I wanted it to stop.” The last came out almost as a cry of anguish.

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“So why didn’t you stop it?” “What are you talking about?” Her head jerked up, so that she finally looked him in the eye. Her stricken features tugged at the softer side he had recently rediscovered thanks to her, but he hardened his heart. “Why didn’t you stop the women from being killed?” “I can’t.” She sat up, the blanket pooled at her waist. Her hair streamed around her shoulders, offering tantalizing glimpses of her nude body, though she didn’t seem to notice. “Don’t you understand? My visions are of the future. I have no control over them. I don’t know where or when they are going to happen.” “I understand you didn’t confide in me about your visions.” She was quiet for a moment. “What do you want from me? We’ve only just met.” As if suddenly realizing the vulnerability of her position, she pulled the small blanket up over her breasts, shielding her body from his eyes. His eagle spirit sensed the disturbance in his emotions and demanded release. Manuel quashed his beast down, though a part of him wished for the freedom of the outdoors. Dealing with emotions after so long was difficult. Only this was too important to ignore or shove aside. He and Ixa needed to sort this out. He thrust his fingers into his hair, unable to calm the turmoil that seemed to be growing within him. “I expected your trust.” She stared at him, disbelief clear on her face. “You want too much. I couldn’t stop Galante from killing my family. What makes you think I could have protected those other women? And why does knowing about this freakish ability matter to you? Could you have done something about it?”


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“Yes. I am a shadow warrior.” Anger swelled in his breast. “Ixa, you are a cop. You swore to protect lives. If you had the opportunity to stop something that you knew was going to happen, you should have intervened. Those women were like you…special and irreplaceable. They could have saved another warrior’s life, allowing him to hold on to his humanity, but now we will never know. Your visions gave you a choice. You chose to sit on the sidelines and let Galante and his master take innocent lives, and now your abuelo stands to lose his. If they get away with it, then a darkness like no other will descend upon the Earth and all of humanity will be lost.” He got up from the bed, his body no longer warm, his heart growing cold. “You are not a child anymore, Ixa. You are an officer of the law and a warrior chosen by the gods to protect humanity. Where is your sense of duty?” Ixa’s eyes blazed fire. “Don’t even go there. I did my duty. I spent my life tracking that man down and put Galante away in prison. It’s your gods that set him free. Where’s the justice in that?” “You’re right. There is no justice. Shit happens to good people every day. You know goddamn well it does. You see it all the time on the job. That doesn’t mean you give up.” “I didn’t give up, damn you.” “You didn’t learn from your mistakes either. You refuse to use all the tools at your disposal. You have power that goes beyond the badge and gun that you carry. The gods gifted you with the ability to call the wind and they gave you the gift of foresight. I’m sure your abuelo offered to teach you how to control them, but you stubbornly reject anyone’s help.” She scrambled off the bed, pulling the blanket with her, knuckles white, holding the material tightly closed. “You son of a bitch. My family died because

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of me and my so-called gift. Do you have any idea what it’s like to hear the screams of your family every night when you close your eyes?” “Do you think you are the only one to lose loved ones? Mine were wiped out because I arrogantly believed I was smarter, faster and more capable than any other Aztec chieftain. They were slaughtered on my watch. I became a shadow warrior to find justice for them. Soon, my eagle spirit will devour my soul and even seeking justice will be beyond me. But until that day comes, I will fight because that is who I am.” “I can’t be like you.” Her voice shook. “You could be if you wanted to. That is why you carry the mark of the huitzil.” Weariness settled deep into his bones. The gap between Ixa and himself might as well have been a gulf. He thought finding his spirit mate would be his salvation, his hope to have what he had waited centuries for…his humanity and a family. He’d thought wrong. “Tell me what you saw in your vision.” He hated how harsh he sounded, but time was of the essence. Again he had underestimated his adversary, but this time the stakes were higher. All of humanity stood to lose. He had already lost. Being this close to his spirit mate and knowing that she would never feel the same way he felt drove a dagger through his heart. He would rescue her abuelo and deliver the demon to the netherworld, and when his mission was complete, he would give himself over completely to the eagle spirit, for if Ixa would not have him, he wished to feel nothing at all. Tall and strong, he dominated the room and simply waited for her to speak. She felt at a disadvantage. Definitely underdressed. Manuel, on the other hand, appeared unfazed by his nudity. Handsome and tough, he took her breath away. Her body still remembered the feel of his touch, and the sweet kisses he had run


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along her body. The musky scent of their sex still clung to her skin and laced the air. He stood out of her reach, his body rigid and demeanor cold, and she lamented that she had put that scowl on his face. She wanted to fix it but knew firsthand that there was no changing the past. On unsteady legs she returned to the small bed and sat down on the edge. One of her hands crept up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. “Can you please clothe yourself?” “If it will help you to concentrate.” He did as she asked. Manuel passed his hand over his body, mouthing words she could not hear, and changed into his warrior garb. Ixa felt like a pebble caught up in a windstorm, battered and buffeted from all sides. Manuel and her abuelo wanted too much from her, asking her to step into a world with rules she didn’t understand, where her badge and a gun meant nothing. They wanted her to embrace her talents and to forget about the fact that one small error on her part could wipe out all of San Diego. She drew in a deep breath and forced herself to recall the vision that might mean the difference between life and death for her abuelo. The vision blew through her mind with gale force. “I see Galante and my abuelo.” “Where are they?” A breeze filtered through her senses, containing the damp, wet smell of charred wood. A picture of a cheerful yellow daisy popped into her mind’s eye—a happy image that burned up in flames and turned into rotted wallpaper hanging down over a broken wall. “They’re in a burnt-down building.” Her throat clogged as she choked on black smoke. It filled her lungs, but it wasn’t from her vision—it was a memory. She blinked her eyes and came back to the present. “Galante’s returned to my old home. That house has been boarded up and shuttered for over two

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decades—my abuelo was reluctant to sell and I was too scared to revisit the scene of so much death and pain. God, it’s like a damn cliché. Murderers always return to the scene of the crime.” “What is the address?” Ixa told him, wondering if he realized it was now in one of the worst sections of the city, plagued by gang violence, drugs and prostitution. It hadn’t been so bad when she’d been a child. Maybe not the best of neighborhoods, but certainly not the eyesore and pit of despair it was today. “Is there anyone else with them?” Ixa pushed aside the past to concentrate on the present, knowing it was her only hope if she wished to see the future and possibly change it. “A demon of immense power. He’s chanting. All around him black storm clouds are gathering. He’s holding an obsidian blade.” “Focus on the man with the ceremonial knife.” Ixa concentrated. “He’s covered in bones, his figure deformed, but he’s not solid—it’s like he’s made of shadows.” “Metztli.” Manuel ground out the name. “The god of the moon. He resents his low status in the pecking order. He left the pantheon when humans stopped making sacrifices to him. The continuous sacrifices fed the gods their power. Without sacrifices, without belief, they are shadows of their former selves, though still capable of tremendous feats—both good and bad—that would seem impossible by human standards.” She looked up at him. “God of the moon. I should have made the connection when Galante mentioned him back at the warehouse. I’ve shoved Abuelo’s stories so far down that they’ve become a jumble of names and far-fetched events. Except for the shadow warriors. Their tales always loomed larger than


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life, no matter how much I tried to ignore them. Do you think the recent sacrifices brought Metztli back to life?” “Yes, I don’t doubt it. Their power on the earthly plane is somewhat limited, but each sacrifice directed towards them gives a god strength. Even so, it would take numerous sacrifices to achieve the power the gods wielded centuries ago. The question is, why? What has the moon god to gain from killing guardians?” He scowled as he pondered the possibilities. He turned around and focused on her abuelo’s walking stick. He turned back around and looked at her. His eyes glowed golden. “How could I have been so stupid not to see it? “It took Metztli a while, but he knew how to find you all along. He knew that if he killed the others, you would come and expose yourself to him.” His piercing eyes pinned her. “You are the guardian to the wind.” Without saying more he turned on his heel and headed for the door. Ixa jumped up from the bed, uncaring that she left the blanket behind. She chased after him. “What do you mean? I don’t understand. Where are you going?” He swiveled around, his eyes no longer human but those of the eagle. “Don’t you see? Metztli was never after you. He wanted your abuelo all along. Galante was a distraction meant to throw you off course.” He put his hands on her bare shoulders. She felt his power tingle along her skin, lighting up her tattoo. “Every god needs a vessel when they leave the pantheon to stay on this plane, something that will contain them, hide them from the other gods and allow them to live on. There is a reason you don’t have any pictures of Ehecatl. Your abuelo must be the wind god.” Memories of her abuelo, moments they’d experienced and stories he’d told her as a child whirled around inside her head in a tornado. Fear fisted in her gut. A mental picture of the women with their hearts torn out wafted in her mind.

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Her abuelo would face the same fate all because she had not embraced her heritage. She grabbed Manuel’s arm. “I need to come with you. I have to make things right.” He pulled away from her grip. “There is no time. Sunrise is only a few hours away. If the moon god extracts the god of wind from your abuelo, then Metztli will steal the air and all will die.” Manuel hit the door and took off running. His wings burst from his back and in midair he shifted into the eagle, letting out a screech as he headed towards the city, the setting moon a beacon guiding him forward. Ixa hurried to dress, her mind awhirl with Manuel’s revelations. Years ago, she had pushed the gods aside, angry at them for taking away her family, yet her abuelo had stood by her, loved her and cared for her. Manuel’s suggestion seemed crazy, impossible. If her abuelo truly was a god, then why hadn’t he revealed himself to her? Maybe because he feared she would push him away too, blame him for not saving his own daughter and her flesh and blood. She silently admitted it wasn’t an unreasonable fear given her rejection of her heritage and abilities. The only way to really find out was to find him and ask him. She prayed she wasn’t too late. Aztec deity or not, Abuelo was Abuelo, an old man who’d taken her in when she’d been lost and devastated. A gentle man who’d held her when her nightmares and visions threatened to destroy her. A wise man who’d offered advice, but still allowed her to choose her own path. A sob caught in her throat at the thought of losing him, whether to Galante or to some crazy moon god.


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She had to get to him before her vision played out for real. Manuel was right. Her visions came with responsibility, the responsibility to act. As her fingers deftly braided her hair, she acknowledged her culpability. She’d taken the coward’s way out and had hidden her head in the sand. She could have made an effort, truly stopped and analyzed each vision and taken them on. She was a cop, she had promised to protect and serve. Instead she had been caught up in her own denial, seeing her abilities as a curse and not the gift they were. So many things she had done wrong. She needed to make them right. No phone and no cell reception, she had no way to contact Boyle or the station to let them know where Galante was located. She had to hope Manuel got there first, but if he thought he was going to take on Galante alone, he was dead wrong. Whether he wanted her around now or not, they were partners—lying in his arms last night, she’d felt that truth deep in her bones. He had called her his spirit mate, and when this was all over she would prove to him she was, but first she needed to stop the madman that had stolen her family and her abuelo from her. Galante was going down and this time there would be no jail time. She was going to see him straight to hell, even if that meant taking him there herself. She shoved her feet into her shoes and rushed to the cabin door. Halfway across the room, a rattling sound made her stop. Slowly she turned, only to gasp. Her abuelo’s walking stick rolled back and forth on the floor. No drafts. No breeze. She knew she wasn’t causing it to move. The stick popped up into a vertical position and tapped its way across the wooden floor. Ixa stared, mesmerized by the sight. A few feet from her the stick paused, still tapping up and down, seemingly waiting for something. Even from this short distance, she could sense the energy emanating from it. How was it she had never noticed it before?

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She held out her hand and the stick flew right into it. Her fingers closed tightly around the shaft, power thrummed through her and around her. Ixa closed and locked the cabin and then gazed with dismay upon the car buried under piles of sand. Unless she could get the vehicle free, she’d be without transportation. She’d never be able to do it. Her powers were erratic, unpredictable, but she had to try if she was going to save her abuelo. She put the stick down and stepped closer to the car. She tried to think of the pointers Manuel had given her. She brought her palms up in front of her face and blew on them. A light breeze rolled off, nowhere near the amount of wind needed to unbury the car. She took another breath and blew with the same result. Despair washed over her and panic threatened to choke her. She dropped to her knees and picked up the stick, cradling it to her chest. “Why won’t you help me?” she shouted up at the skies. Manuel and his talk of gods. They were never there when she needed them. “If I ever needed you, it is now.” Warmth flowed through her. Her tattoo heated beneath her shirt. She raised her head and glanced warily around the surrounding desert. She was alone. Energy pulsed against her. The walking stick in her hands radiated power, power that seemed to jump from the stick to her. She felt stronger, more grounded. She got to her feet and faced the car once more. She could do this. She had to do this. Focus. Concentrate. She gathered the storm of emotions whirling inside her, one palm flat, her fingers pointed to the vehicle. The other hand gripped the stick. She built the image in her head, felt the energy grow within her, and then aimed for her target with a powerful breath. The air rolled off her hand, gathering, intensifying until it spun around the car, clearing sand in every direction.


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She threw up her hand to protect her face. About to drop to the ground, she realized there had to be a way to control the direction of the wind. Squeezing her eyes shut to keep the grains from getting in, she held the stick up in the air and, using her concentration, focused the wind in the direction she wished it to blow the sand. Immediately, the wind shifted. Carefully, Ixa opened her eyes. She’d done it. She’d actually done it and she hadn’t wiped out the whole neighborhood either. Okay, so she was in the desert with nothing around for miles, but still. The car was free of sand and she could leave. Ixa climbed in, putting the walking stick on the front seat beside her. She didn’t know if the stick was the cause of her success or not, but she wasn’t taking any chances with it. She’d do anything to get her abuelo back, from using her wind powers to sacrificing herself. If Manuel was right and her abuelo was the wind god, then the world needed him much more than it needed her.

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Time was running out—it was only a half hour before sunrise. It had taken her about ninety minutes with her foot to the pedal and no traffic. She didn’t think she was that far behind Manuel. Ixa gunned the motor and tore down the dilapidated street, pulling up to the place she once called home. Above the half-burned structure, angry storm clouds gathered in a swirling vortex. She grabbed Abuelo’s walking stick and headed into the house. Inside, the only light came from two garbage cans whose contents were on fire. The strong odor of gasoline rose up from red plastic canisters, some of which lay empty and tossed aside—cans like the one used to burn her childhood home down all those years ago. Outside the perimeter of the flames, blackness gripped the area. The sound of chanting and drumbeats echoed in the gutted-out interior. She couldn’t make out the words, but the tone sent the hairs on her neck and arms prickling. Her tattoo burned fiercely. Galante threw up his arms, warding off the attack of the eagle that swooped down over him, its outstretched talons tearing at the man’s skin and bones. The eagle’s screech filled the air. Manuel. Ixa breathed in his name, letting it center her as she faced her worst fear. In the center of the room was a slab of broken concrete erected into a makeshift altar, and on top of the slab lay the limp and chained body of her abuelo. Metztli, covered in bones and a mask with bits of a rabbit’s carcass stuck to it, raised an obsidian blade and swung it at the air, his shadow rising up behind

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him in an obscene parody of himself. He stepped forward and hovered over Abuelo. Her emotions threatened to choke her. Her grip tightened on the walking stick. “Get away from him, pendejo!” Ixa cried. Metztli raised his head, his beady eyes spearing her in place from behind the bony mask. “Nice of you to join the party. Now I can kill both of you at the same time.” Shadows that danced along the wall broke off and elongated into halfhuman, half-skeletal creations. Ixa took a step backwards out of their reach, but the demons were too fast. Bony claws clutched both her wrists. She tried wrenching free, but the dead-eyed creatures held her firm. She aimed a good kick at one of them and sent the creature’s head flying across the room. “The only one who is going to die today is you.” Inside, her emotions swirled. The wind shifted. Metztli lifted his mask to the sky and sniffed the air. “Such bravado, but I can smell your fear. And well you should be scared, little warrior. You have come too late.” The air crackled with electricity. Lightning splintered overhead. A bolt shot upward from Metztli’s outstretched bony arm, blowing a hole through the roof. The decrepit walls of the house crumbled, letting in the first hints of dawn breaking on the horizon. The sunlight crept up over the slab and touched the bare skin of her abuelo. Ixa struggled to break away. Sunrise meant death for her abuelo. “Let this be a new dawn. All will be remade in my image,” screamed the moon god to the heavens. “With the essence of the wind god I shall rule the earth, blow hatred across the land and into the hearts of men. Battles will rage,

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brother against brother. The land will flow with blood once more and humans will bow to me, their god and master.” Ixa fought against her soulless captors. She watched in horror as Metztli raised the obsidian blade and brought it down, plunging it directly into her abuelo’s chest. “No!” The primal cry tore from her lips. Every drop of anger, despair and grief welled up inside her and flowed through her veins into her fingertips. She thrust out her hand and let loose a stream of wind, blowing the creatures into a million tiny fragments. Their bones rained down around the room. Ixa felt her control slipping, but she didn’t care. If her abuelo was dead, nothing mattered. She had nothing left to lose. Wind and debris rushed around the room. She tried to aim it at the moon god, but pain and despair, while useful for feeding her power, made it impossible to focus. Metztli appeared unfazed by the attack. He raised both fists into the air and roared, “This is not the wind god!” He glanced at the body on the slab and then back at her. His eyes bored through her. “You!” He pointed at her with one bony finger coated in blood. “The scepter of Ehecatl. Give it to me!” Ixa tightened her hold on the stick. “Never!” Metztli leaped over the altar to land directly in front of her. Before she could move he was on top of her, his skeletal hands around her throat, cutting off her air. She brought one hand up to break his hold and with the other hit him with the stick. She kicked out with her legs. Pinpricks of blackness dotted her vision. She felt herself weakening, her strength seeping out of her. She had to remain strong if she was going to avenge Abuelo and her family. She had to help Manuel finish this fight. She had to tell him…


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The eagle tore a chunk of flesh from Galante’s neck. Black blood squirted out. Using powerful strokes, the eagle rose up, swallowing the tasty morsel in one bite. Power surged through the beast with just that small taste. Galante squealed with pain, his head swiveling from side to side. His hands covered his neck as he tried to staunch the flow of blood. The eagle dove in, reversing at the last moment, talons outstretched for the attack. Galante stepped back and tripped over a rusted pipe, falling flat on his back. The man lay motionless. Just as the eagle went for the kill, Manuel yanked hard on his beast. From the periphery of the eagle’s sight, he caught the image of Metztli leaping on Ixa, strangling her as she went down. The eagle fought him, wanting to return to the demon. Buried deep inside, Manuel applied every ounce of power he had and forced the eagle to cross the room. A few feet away, he shifted right before landing, letting the momentum carry him into tackling the moon god. The two rolled over and over the filthy, hard floor, the stick between them. The sight of Ixa’s limp body fueled him with rage and he struck hard at Metztli, cracking his mask. A hiss of displeasure flowed from the god’s lips. Energy built around them until Manuel was blown off Metztli with a loud explosion. He smashed into the concrete slab. His fingers reached up to grip the edge of the slab as he forced himself back to his feet. He was certain a few of his ribs were broken. His gaze lowered and despair filled him at the bloody site of Ixa’s abuelo. The old man’s breath came out labored. He was clearly near death. Manuel had failed his family in the past and now he had failed his spirit mate. Ixa and her abuelo were lost to him. His chance at humanity no longer existed. But if he was going to succumb to his beast, he would go out in a final battle. He would prevent Metztli from stealing the essence of the wind god. It would be his last act before submitting to his eagle spirit.

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Metztli had clearly dismissed him as no threat, his attention focused entirely on the wind stick. Manuel had his chance. He called forth his atlatl, and with deadly accuracy, threw the dart into the center of the moon god’s heart.

She blinked her eyes open. Everything was fuzzy. Her head throbbed and her neck hurt. She groaned and slowly rolled halfway onto her side and leaned up on her elbow. In an immense, swirling vortex above her, Manuel and Metztli were locked in epic battle. With his horrid rabbit mask gone, the moon god appeared nothing more than a twisted face of bones and a large, gaping jaw. Manuel raised his weapon and shot a dart through the god’s abdomen. She spied another one sticking out of the god’s chest. Praying the two would be engaged for a while, Ixa got up and ran to Abuelo’s side. He was barely alive. Fear coursed through her body as she took in the blood covering him. She had to get him out of here and to a hospital. She put her hands under his arms and tried to lift him. Clouded gray eyes focused on her. “Mi brisita.” Ixa cradled him to her, happy he was alive. “Yes, it’s me. I need to get you out of here.” “No,” he wheezed out. “You need to stay and fight. That is your purpose.” Blood gurgled in his throat, but he pressed on. “The gods have chosen you to be a warrior. You must defeat Metztli. You must.” He closed his eyes. “I don’t know how. Please, Abuelo, I need you!” She held him close, afraid he was slipping away. She felt her powers swirling inside her, a massive storm of emotions. The air crackled and snapped with electrical charges.


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He opened his eyes once more. His hand shaky and weak, he reached up and touched her heart. “Everything you need is right in here. All you need to do is look within to find the answers.” He coughed up blood and struggled to breathe. His body trembled in her arms and he exhaled in a short spurt. She held him tighter. He felt cold, so very cold. Her heart was breaking. She had lost everything. The world was in chaos because of her. She had rejected all that he had tried to teach her, and for what? To fit into a world that she had promised to serve and protect, yet here she was with the biggest opportunity to save all of mankind and she didn’t have a clue what to do. For the first time, she truly felt alone. A warrior’s cry ripped through the air. She raised her head. Manuel smashed his hand into the moon god’s cheek, a strike that caused bone fragments to fly from the skeletal face. Metztli raised his arm and swung the wind stick. Manuel was blown out of the sky. Her heart pounded as she watched him fall to the charred floor. “Manuel!” She hated to leave her abuelo, but there was little she could do for him. She rushed to the warrior’s side. “Are you all right?” Manuel pushed himself up. His golden eagle eyes were filled with pain and she wanted to touch him, run her hands over him to make sure nothing was broken. It was in that instant she realized she wasn’t alone. She could never be alone because she had Manuel. All her life she had heard tales of the mighty warriors and maybe somewhere long ago had unwittingly fallen in love with the soldiers of Huitzilopochtli. Manuel had not only taught her how to control her power, but he had believed in her. And she had let him down. If they got out of this alive,

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she promised herself she would make it up to him and make him see she truly was his spirit mate. She touched his arm. Energy flowed from his bare skin into her fingertips. Her hummingbird tattoo flared bright, chasing away the shadows in the room. The storm inside her gathered into a mass of huge proportions, making her feel stronger and braver. “I’m ready,” she told him with conviction in her voice. “I can do this. We can do this.” He nodded his head, stood up and took her hand. A lightning bolt shot from the sky and exploded by their feet, but together they held their ground. In the swirling clouds gathering overhead, Metztli grew larger, his power spreading out over the house, blocking out the sunlight. The massive darkness stretched and stretched and Ixa realized that left unchecked, Metztli would bring the whole world to darkness. The moon god held up her abuelo’s walking stick, his bony fingers extracting the wind god from inside. All these years and she’d never suspected. Her abuelo had never hinted at such a thing. Before their eyes, the essence of Ehecatl shimmered and wavered in the storm. The wind god squirmed away from the bloody touch of Metztli, desperately clinging to his hold on the vessel. Manuel turned her to face him, his strong hands on both her shoulders. “Are you sure you wish to fight by my side? We may not survive.” “Yes.” Determination flooded her system. Her hands charged with power. “You were right. I swore to protect and serve. I don’t need a badge and gun. I have what it takes to help you bring down this son of a bitch.” She put out her fist. Wind encircled her arm in a rapid circular motion. She looked dead straight into his golden eyes. “Let’s do it.”


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Manuel wrapped one of his large hands around Ixa’s nape and pulled her to him for a brief, hard kiss. He needed the taste of her on his lips. They were going into a battle with the odds stacked high against them. She had given him a precious gift. In finding his spirit mate, he’d discovered his emotions and the ability to love once again. “Whatever happens, you do as I tell you.” He would protect her with his last breath. She thumped his chest and he gritted his teeth in pain. Her eyes narrowed. “You’re hurt.” His side throbbed and it was difficult for him to breathe. He didn’t need a healer to tell him his ribs were broken. “It’s nothing.” He glanced up, aware that they had little time to make their move. Metztli extracted the wind god from the stick, using the obsidian blade to create a large crack, and immediately inhaled him in one long breath. “It’s now or never.” She stepped forward and once again raised her hand, drawing air to her, creating a strong current that flowed around her. A part of him wanted her safe and away from this place, but she was a warrior and he could see the determination in her eyes. Her power surrounded them. She was ready. “You go in low and I’ll go in high. Blast him with everything you’ve got.” Manuel didn’t wait to see if she followed his instructions. It was Ixa. She would do what needed to be done, no matter the cost. Manuel shifted into the eagle. He could feel his beast’s hunger, its desire for the thrill of the kill. Manuel pulled back on his eagle spirit. He needed to stay in control. The eagle resisted, smelling the blood in the air. On the ground, the eagle spied prey—Ixa’s abuelo and Galante lay bleeding and immobile. Fear and hunger mixed together and Manuel cursed himself for going too long without

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food and renewing his energy in the netherworld. Finally, his spirit mate was willing to fight by his side, but the eagle spirit did not care. Using the full force of his will, Manuel bore down on his eagle spirit to make it obey his commands. Too much was at stake to allow his beast to win at this stage of their constant tug of war. Under him he felt the air rise. Ixa held out her hands and drove a thermal wind beneath his wings, taking him higher into the sky. He soared up into the storm clouds manifesting around Metztli. Lightning broke around him. He dodged the bolts. Below him, Ixa created a swirling tornado that sucked at Metztli. The moon god snatched up her tornado and crushed it in his enormous hand. He opened his bony fingers and sent out an army of minitornadoes over the land. The twisters churned up cars parked along the street and uprooted trees. He turned, piercing her with his dark, beady eyes and pointed the stick at her. A cold blast of arctic wind poured off the staff. Ixa returned fire with a blast of hot air. The two streams met in the middle, building a storm front that threatened to blow the whole city away. Pieces of the house and debris flew up into the air, nearly knocking Manuel out of the sky. His eagle plowed into the headwind, relying on its powerful wings to advance. While the moon god was momentarily distracted fighting Ixa, his eagle stretched out its talons and went after the wind stick. Swift and silent, the bird snatched the stick out of Metztli’s grip. The god tried to grab it back but Manuel shot straight though the gaps of the god’s fleshless hand and dove straight down toward Ixa. Manuel dropped the wind stick at her feet. Quickly, she picked it up. Ixa pulled the obsidian blade out of the wood. Light and air shimmered out of the gap. Remaining magic poured from the hole and swirled around her whole body. Her eyes focused on something off in the distance, as if she were listening to the wind itself.


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He landed inches away from her and transformed into a man. “Manuel.” Ixa handed him the obsidian blade. “Take this and bury it into the heart of Metztli.” Metztli loomed large, his skeletal limbs extended out over the entire neighborhood. Manuel had only one shot. If he got it wrong, there would be no stopping the malicious moon god. Manuel placed the knife in his atlatl. The blade fit into the cradle of his throwing shaft. He pulled back his arm and flung the knife with all his might. It flew through the air swift and sure. The blade sunk deep into the bony chest of Metztli. A scream of wind howled through the region, lightning burst from the heavens and rubble rained down around them. “Use the wind stick,” Manuel shouted above the roar of the wind. Ixa aimed the cane at Metztli. He covered her hand with his. Power coursed through his arm and he could feel Ixa’s energy rush over him. Like an arrow, a wind stream shot straight for the moon god. Strong as they were, they needed more help to defeat their enemy. “Ehecatl, you must fight back.” He put every ounce of command in his voice, willing the wind god to listen. Ixa added her voice. “Ehecatl, bisabuelo, we need you on our side. Please, great-grandfather.” Sunlight tore through the storm clouds blanketing the sky, poking holes in the dark cover. Air shimmered and sparkled from within Metztli’s skeletal breast. He roared in anger. The wind god burst forth in a spray of bones and gore, punching a hole through the moon god’s chest. Metztli began to shrink in size, his power leaching out of him in a torrent of black ooze. Ehecatl’s rage flowed in a stream of hot and cold air, shredding Metztli and flinging pieces of the god over the land. Ixa ran to her fallen grandparent and

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bent over him, offering herself as protection. Manuel came up behind her, and as he had done in the desert, he expanded his wings and used them to form a cocoon of protection. Thunder and lightning rumbled and crashed over the city. The wind god spun around until he dissolved into a controlled tornado that continued to attack Metztli until not a single fragment of the moon god remained. The clouds cleared and bright sunlight bathed the earth once more. Manuel stepped back and retracted his wings. Ixa straightened, the glimmer of tears visible in her gaze. Ehecatl looked down upon them both, his face filled with kindness and humility. Manuel bowed before the god. “I must collect the bones of Metztli,” Ehecatl said, his voice a whisper in the wind. “He is too dangerous in the wrong hands.” In a rush of air, Ehecatl formed once more into a tornado high above the skies, funneling up the splintered remains of the moon god. The skies may have cleared and the wind god may have been safe, but they were far from out of danger. All around them the walls of the house groaned from the strain of the fight and threatened to fall in upon them. “We need to get out of here!” He pulled on Ixa, but she shrugged off his hold. “I’m not leaving Abuelo.” She went for her abuelo. He stopped her in her tracks. “I’ll get him.” He picked up the limp body of the old man and headed through the door with Ixa behind him. His legs longer and stronger than hers, he easily cleared the fallen debris. He reached the safety of the front yard and carefully laid down her abuelo. He looked over his shoulder to observe her exit.


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Ixa stood inches from the doorway, the wind stick in her hand, when Galante appeared in a puff of black smoke before her, blocking her escape. He touched the wooden frame of the house and flames burst up, encircling the structure. Trapped! Ixa turned around, searching for another way out. Emotions and memories of long ago bombarded her. Everywhere she turned she saw the bright orange glow of fire. It licked up the ruined walls, black smoke choking the air and covering the sky. She could hear the screech of the eagle above, but the inky black smoke reduced the chances of rescue. “Manuel, I’m here!” Her voice croaked. Heat and smoke invaded her lungs. Galante continued to block the doorway, his ever-present evil grin in place. From behind him, she glimpsed Manuel trying to reach the entrance, but some kind of barrier held him off. Frustration marred his features and then he disappeared from her sight. “Hey!” Galante shouted. He held up a red plastic gasoline container and shook it. Liquid sloshed inside. “Remember this?” She stared directly at him and let all her rage, all her fears, and the years of tears and anguish rise up from within her. She took those feelings and balled them metaphysically in her hand. No more would she allow Galante to control her world or hurt anyone else. It ended now. She flung the wind out at him with all her might. Galante braced his feet for the hit, turning his body to make less of a target. The wind tore the gasoline container out of his hands and flung it back against the crumbling wall. Gas splattered, setting off a mini-explosion as the fire fed on the fuel.

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He threw his head back and gave a sharp laugh. He turned the skeletal half of his face toward her. “Sticks and stones may break my bones, but your wind can’t hurt me.” His words sparked an idea. “You’re right, my wind may not do the trick, but maybe this will.” Ixa raised the wind stick up and pointed it at him. She channeled her power. Her tattoo burned and lit up with energy, and she could feel her elemental magic flowing through her arm, swift and furious. “Hasta la vista, pendejo!” Gale-force wind blew outward and smashed into Galante. She cut the wind off with a snap of her wrist, unwilling to let it feed the flames. Galante wavered, a gaping hole burrowed through his middle. Black ooze gushed out of the open wound. “Bitch!” He dropped to the ground and dragged what was left of his sorry carcass across the floor toward her. “I should have killed you that night with the rest of your fucking family.” His eyes glowed with a green fire. She looked into them. A mistake, Ixa realized too late. Images of her father bleeding pounded into her mind. Her ears rang with the wails of her mother. She put her hands over her ears but she could still hear the screams of her sister. “Get out of my head!” Ixa pivoted away and hugged the wind stick to her breast. Energy pulsated over her entire body and zapped straight into her heart. Her mother, her father and her sister rested there, within her, and their smiles and warmth energized her. Galante may have taken their lives, but he could never destroy her memory of them. She knew what she had to do. She turned around and faced down Galante. “You don’t scare me anymore.” “No, little girl? Are you sure?” His bony fingers reached out and grabbed a second can of gasoline. He glugged back the toxic liquid and spewed it straight at her.


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She jumped back out of reach of the deadly spray. The fire leaped onto the flammable liquid and made a line directly between her legs. He grabbed the canister again to take another swig. This was her chance. She focused her energy and siphoned it down the shaft of the wind stick. Ixa swung the wind stick high into the air and swirled it around, gathering the wind to her. As she’d hoped, Galante ignored the danger, too caught up in his quest to defeat her. He spewed another round of gasoline in her direction. She vacuumed up the chemical brew into her vortex. She reversed her power and flung the gasoline-filled air back at him, coating him in the toxic liquid. The droplets burst into flames, licking their way up his body. Galante whirled and smacked at his clothes. His hands on fire, he wailed and took off running, intent on escape. He screamed a high-pitched squeal that hurt her ears. Before her eyes, the flames consumed him in a fiery ball. Ixa couldn’t bear to watch. She blew her breath across the top of the wind stick. Air snuffed the blaze out, but it was too late for Galante. He fell to the ground in a heap of charred flesh and bones. Ixa didn’t have time to contemplate what she’d done. Shadows jumped along the walls. Flames licked greedily in every direction. Smoke threatened to choke her. Already her eyes were tearing and her chest felt tight with each breath. “Ixa!” She heard Manuel calling her name. She listened for him. His shouts were coming from the left. There, over in the corner, a section of wall had come free. He stood with his hand outstretched. “The shield is down. Hurry!” he shouted. She waved the wind stick and blew the flames away as she ran toward him. He grabbed on to her and pulled her through the cracked wall and straight into his arms.

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Reluctantly, Ixa disengaged from Manuel’s embrace. Too much remained to be done. Smoke curled up from the blackened house behind them. The entire neighborhood looked like a war zone with cars turned over, trees uprooted and roofs blown off. In the distance, sirens wailed from every direction. Ixa spied her abuelo on the ground and cried out. “He needs a doctor.” Manuel caught her chin in his hand and forced her to meet his gaze. “Ixa, there is nothing they can do.” “What about you? Can’t you do something?” “He was stabbed with an obsidian knife, one steeped in dark magic. It is impossible to counter such a deadly wound. I’m sorry, nohuitzil.” She shook her head. “No, I won’t believe that,” she choked out. “We have to at least try.” She pulled from his grasp and stumbled over to his supine form. Gently, she brushed at the dirt sticking to his cheek, aware of his too-pale face and the blood that soaked his chest. Tears pooled in her eyes. “Abuelo,” she whispered. His eyelids slowly blinked open. “Mi brisita.” His tongue touched his chapped lips. “You make me very proud. You are a fine guardian for our people. My wish has been fulfilled.” “Don’t say that. Don’t talk like you’re leaving me. You can’t. I need you. Please, you must stay.” Her abuelo’s lids half closed and his breath grew shallower with each second. “I would have passed on sooner, but you were not ready. I asked the

Gabriella Hewitt

gods for more time with you. Now you are able to stand on your own. You have great power. Use it wisely, my child.” He coughed and blood bubbled at his lips. “Don’t go,” she repeated. “I need you.” Tears fell freely down her cheeks. Her heart hurt from the pain flooding her. She gathered his limp form to her, cradling him as he so often had cradled her as a little girl. She lifted her head up to the sky and screamed, “Save him for me. You can make him whole. I beg you to save him!” Air spun and swirled in front of her until it formed a shape and Ehecatl, the wind god, appeared. He was the spitting image of her abuelo as a young man. She felt her abuelo’s body shudder and slacken. She looked up at the god—her great-grandfather, if the legend was to be believed. “Please,” she whispered brokenly, “can’t you save him?” “My great-granddaughter, you are a worthy guardian with the spirit of a warrior. You have served your people proudly today.” His face softened and his eyes showed compassion. “Your grandfather, my son, led a full life. He followed the path before him with honor. It is time to let him go.” “But…but…” She hugged her abuelo closer as if that would prevent him from leaving. “He will never be far from you, Ixa. Look, child, look.” Ixa raised her head, but with her eyes swimming with tears, everything seemed blurry. She wiped her face with her arm and stared at the wind god. Standing beside him, she saw her abuelo, in a semi-transparent form, floating slightly above the ground. In her arms, his body lay still. “Abuelo, I don’t want you to go.” “I am always with you, mi brisita. Look in your heart. You will always find me there.”

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A tiny sparkle of light bobbed its way toward them. As it neared, it became a hummingbird. For a brief flash, Ixa saw her mother, her father and sister, all holding hands in a clear meadow. Her mother reached a hand out and her abuelo took it. He smiled at Ixa and the four of them were gone, the hummingbird winging away. Ixa bowed her head and let grief wash over her. Why did the gods keep taking the people she loved? Why was she always left alone? “Ixa, you are not alone,” the wind god reminded her with a nod in Manuel’s direction. At first she didn’t understand—her brain and body felt numb, bashed and bruised from all that had taken place, and then his meaning sank in. She had Manuel if she could hang on to him. Carefully, she lay her abuelo back down on the sparse grass and climbed to her feet. She half ran, half staggered over to where Manuel sat on the ground, his body covered in dirt, grime, sweat and blood. She dropped to her knees before him and touched his face with her fingertips. He was real and alive. He took her hand and placed a kiss in the center of her palm. “I am sorry for your loss, Ixa. I would have done anything to spare you grief.” “I know that now. I should have trusted you from the beginning.” She bent her head and stared down at the ground. “I should have listened to Abuelo more and learned how to control my powers.” He pulled her into his embrace and she relaxed against him, feeling safe and comforted. “We all have a path to follow. For some it is straight and smooth. For others it holds many curves and bumps. In the end, you became the warrior you have always been destined to be.” “You mean the spirit mate I was destined to be,” she said with a soft smile.


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“About that, Ixa—” His words were cut off as a blinding light forced both of them to cover their eyes. When Ixa sensed the light had diminished to a comfortable level, she squinted to see who had joined them. A tall warrior with bronze skin strode toward them with confidence. Waves of power radiated from him. He carried a spear in one hand and a shield in another. He wore ancient Aztec dress and had feathers in his hair. Ixa sucked in a breath and gasped. “Is that Huitzilopochtli?” Manuel struggled to his feet. Ixa must have sensed he didn’t want her help, and for that he was grateful. He bowed low before his lord and master. “You have both done well.” The Aztec sun god’s voice boomed over the area. He turned in a circle, seemingly surveying the destruction, when his gaze lit upon the wind god standing by the body of Ixa’s abuelo. “Ehecatl, it has been too long.” “Huitzilopochtli, it has indeed. Many moons ago, I chose to follow the winds. It is a decision I do not regret, for I met my beloved Mayahuel and together we produced children who will stand up and fight for us. I wish you to meet my great-granddaughter Ixa.” “I have long known of Ixa’s existence. She bears my mark of a huitzil. The mark of a guardian.” Beside him, Manuel sensed Ixa stiffen though she held her tongue. The two gods continued to speak as if he and Ixa were not present. “It is time, Ehecatl, for you to return to the pantheon. A war is brewing. Some of the gods are not satisfied and wish a return to the old days when blood and war ruled the day. Already Itzapapotl divides the house and has stirred up much trouble. As you have experienced for yourself, her tzitzimime litter the

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land spreading their evil. We must not allow it. I ask you to help me prevent the chaos that would erupt on Earth should they succeed.” The wind god gazed over at Ixa and nodded. “Yes, I believe it is time that I took my place. However, there is still the matter of Metztli. I have gathered all his bones in a vessel of my making, but it is too dangerous to keep it here on this plane of existence.” “Do not worry,” Huitzilopochtli said in grim tones. “I will see that Metztli is sent to the nine worlds of Mictlan. He will feel comfortable in the netherworld, and I will see to it that he will think very carefully before trying such an act of rebellion ever again.” The words were said calmly but Manuel had no doubt that the sun god would exact punishment from the moon god. “I believe that you will, but should Metztli not heed you, he will have me to deal with. Next time I won’t simply break him into pieces. I will destroy him.” He bent down and picked up his wind stick from the ground and directed his gaze upon Ixa. “You carry my blood, child. Should you ever need me, send word on the wind.” He pointed the wind stick at her. Her hand flew up to her cheek and she appeared startled. The wind god chuckled. He then looked down upon his grandson with pride and sadness. He raised the stick and swirled it. A wind kicked up and lifted Ixa’s abuelo off the ground. The air current flowed around the body, the power so strong that both Manuel and Ixa threw up their arms to protect their faces. The wind died down suddenly. Manuel lowered his arm to see hundreds of multicolored butterflies take flight. Beside him, Ixa gasped. “What happened to Abuelo?” Ehecatl smiled kindly. “His remains will be scattered with the wind to return to earth, fulfilling the cycle of life.” Ixa nodded and, in a whirl of wind, Ehecatl disappeared from sight.


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Huitzilopochtli turned back to the two of them. “Manuel, you have successfully completed your mission. You are wounded. You must return to the home of the shadow warriors and heal. I feel the hunger of your eagle spirit. You must feed as well. Go.” “No, wait.” Ixa took a step forward and halted. “Can’t he stay?” “He is a shadow warrior, a soldier. It is his duty to return to his brothers. You, too, have a duty here on Earth to fight as a guardian. You will be tested in many ways in the years to come.” Inside him, his eagle spirit beat its wings, ready to return to the netherworld and fill its belly. Tired and hurting, he could feel his body weakening, but he did not want to leave Ixa alone. The eagle screeched its protest. With the last of his reserves he tamped the spirit down and stood up tall and bold in front of Huitzilopochtli. “My lord,” Manuel said, “I ask a boon.” “A boon?” “Yes, I ask that you allow me to stay. As you say, we are at war. Ixa needs more training. I ask your permission to stay and teach her, to prepare her for the battles to come.” “You would risk your soul for her?” “What is he talking about? Manuel? Answer me.” Ixa reached out and grasped his wrist, shaking it. Manuel ignored her, keeping his attention focused on the sun god. “I know what I risk. It is my choice. For my spirit mate, there is no sacrifice too great.” “What does he mean?” Ixa demanded of the god. “You are aware that a shadow warrior loses more and more of his humanity with each demon kill, until one day he becomes one with his animal spirit. Until and unless a shadow warrior finds his spirit mate, a woman willing to bind

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herself freely, soul to soul, then he is at risk of no longer remaining human. In Manuel’s case, should he stay with you, his eagle spirit will eventually take over.” “It is my choice,” Manuel stubbornly repeated. He did not want to leave Ixa, and if these were his final days, he’d rather they take place in her company. She needed him. She still had so much to learn. “How do I bind myself to him?” “Ixa, no. You do not know what you are saying. You would be tied to your Aztec heritage forever with no escape.” “I know exactly what I’m saying. All my life I’ve been on the outside, unable to fit in. My abilities scared me, so I tried to ignore them. But I’m not that frightened little girl anymore. I know who I am and what I want. I want you. In your arms, I feel whole. I feel like I belong. I can’t lose you too. I won’t lose you.” She faced Huitzilopochtli. “Whatever has to be done, do it.” “You are impertinent, but you have spunk and courage. Ehecatl is right to be proud of you.” He raised his spear and shield. “Tell me once more why I should grant you this wish.” Ixa looked over at him, love blazing from her eyes. Emotions welled up inside Manuel, nearly felling him with their weight. He had feared her choosing him out of obligation, but she wished this because her feelings matched his own. “I do this,” she said in a loud, clear voice, “because I belong with my spirit mate, my partner in love, life and death.” The air around her glowed and popped. Energy crackled. Manuel took a step back, pushed aside by a firm breeze. Ixa lifted off the ground, her mouth open in a perfect O. She spread her arms and feathers sprang out along them. “I declare you a shadow warrior and grant you eternal life for as long as your spirit is bound to your mate.” Thousands of sparkling flashes lit up the air


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around them. Slowly, Ixa returned to the ground. She touched her arms, but the feathers were gone. She glanced at Manuel questioningly. He clasped her hand and tugged her to him. “Are you sure?” he asked hoarsely, unable to believe she had chosen to tie herself to him. “Are you really sure?” “Oh yes,” she whispered, glancing over her shoulder at the sun god, who watched them. “And if we can get away from here fast, I will be happy to show you how sure I am.” She smiled wickedly at him, lifted her other palm and blew a breath on it. A light wind caressed up and down his body, touching sensitive areas that had his blood boiling and his groin throbbing. Manuel bowed low to his lord. “Permission to leave.” “Granted. I expect to see you in a week’s time. I doubt either of you are of any use to me right now. I suppose I must deal with all these humans and this mess.” Surprise arched Ixa’s brow and her mouth dropped open. Out on the street, several people had wandered out of their homes, many still in their nightclothes, dazed expressions upon their faces. “How can he possibly fix this?” Manuel nearly laughed. “He’s a god. He can do just about anything. He’ll have the place looking like it did and people will only remember a freak storm that hit the neighborhood.” “And I’ll accomplish it a lot faster if the two of you get out of here.” Huitzilopochtli’s voice sounded stern, but Manuel heard the strands of pleasure buried underneath Manuel grinned as he jumped to do his lord’s bidding and pulled Ixa after him. “This will be uncomfortable. Try to relax and let me take the lead.” “What are you—”

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He shushed her. He called up his eagle spirit and embraced the transformation. At the same time, he sent his will out and forced her to submit to the change. He spread his wings, and deep within his eagle, joy spread at the sight of the female bird beside him. He launched into the air. She followed him. Together they flew through the skies. He had found his spirit mate. Never again would either of them feel alone. Once again, he was part of a family. Life couldn’t get any better.


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About the Author

Gabriella Hewitt is the pen name of creative writing talents Sasha Tomaszycki and Patrizia M.J. Hayashi. Together they weave tales of romantic suspense and dangerously sensual paranormals, delivering on their promise of Excitement,

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Now Available: Dark Waters Out of the Shadows

Danger prowls on two legs…

Wolf Hills

© 2012 Bianca D’Arc A Brotherhood of Blood Novel Detective Sally Decker’s Wyoming trip to visit her newlywed friend, Carly, turns into a dangerous adventure into the unknown when she learns Carly’s husband is a master vampire, and there’s a pack of werewolves living just up the road. As if that wasn’t alarming enough, the sexy Alpha wolf has taken a shine to her. Jason Moore is an Alpha on a mission to make Sally his own. His very public seduction doesn’t sit well with the pack’s available females, but instinct tells him that Sally can handle anything, including any werewolf bitch dumb enough to challenge her. Romance gives way to a call to arms when the pack’s children come under attack. Their rescue mission turns into a mating dance and the hunt is on in more ways than one. Their attraction is mind-bendingly hot, though startling revelations about his magic and her origins could drive a wedge between them forever. Can love help them bridge the chasm between their worlds? Warning: This book contains bombs, bullets, bare-knuckled and bare-naked lust, and some serious ass kicking. Please do not feed the frisky furballs, unless you’re willing to risk drawing back a bloody nub. Enjoy the following excerpt for Wolf Hills: Jason stopped the bike and waited while she hopped off first. Sally was enthusiastically looking around at the scenery, her breath almost taken away by the natural beauty of the place. A brook leapt over an outcropping of rocks,

tinkling merrily as it sped away downhill after collecting in a small pool beneath the waterfall. “What do you think?” Jason asked in a hushed voice as he came up beside her on silent feet. “It’s gorgeous,” she replied without taking her eyes off the beauty of nature. “I’m glad you like it. Thought you might.” She turned at his softly spoken words to catch the look of satisfaction on his face as he watched her watching the waterfall. “Did you? Take a lot of chiquitas up here, eh?” She was suddenly in a playful mood and felt like teasing him. “Would you believe me if I said you were the first?” His eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled. “That innocent look may work on some people, but not on a hardened police detective like me.” She rolled her eyes at his expression, smiling all the while. “Are you absolutely certain?” He tried one more time for the earnest look, but she wasn’t buying it. “Sorry.” She shook her head in the negative. “You’ll have to do better than that.” “Oh, I can do better. Question is, can you handle it?” He moved closer to her, dropping the helmets on the soft grass beneath their feet. Suddenly she felt like she was being stalked by a wild predator. A thrill ran down her spine as she thought about avenues of escape. Did she want to run? It might be fun to lead him on a short chase, though ultimately, she really wanted to be caught. Giving in to temptation, she stood her ground as he reached her. It wouldn’t be right to start this relationship by playing games. She decided she would meet him as an equal or not at all.

Wordlessly, he reached out, one hand just barely touching the sensitive skin of her cheek. When she didn’t move away, he deepened the contact, cupping her cheek in his warm, rough palm. Her pulse rate leapt higher as he moved even closer, right into her personal space. His head dipped toward hers. She closed the space between them, stretching upward to meet his kiss. And then she was lost. The kiss the night before was nothing compared to the full, intimate heat of him. His tongue invaded, plundered, staked his claim, and she loved every second of it. She met his challenge and returned it, reaching up to drag him downward, moving her body into his, daring him to take it further. He didn’t disappoint. His hands roamed her back, sliding downward to cup her ass and lift her into full contact. She could feel the hard rod of his excitement against her belly and it made her want more. More of his kiss. More of him. She didn’t know how long the kiss lasted. She only knew that when he drew away from her, she tried to follow. She was firmly under his spell and didn’t want to stop. Not for anything. Somehow—and it shamed her to realize she’d been so far gone—Jason pulled back and cooled things down. His forehead rested against hers, his breathing harsh. That was some consolation, at least. She could feel the trembling of his upper thighs against hers. She knew a little of what it cost him to stop. She felt it too. “Why?” The word escaped before she could stop it. “Too fast,” he replied through ragged breaths. “You’re human.” He let her go and stepped back as if forcing himself to do so. “Mostly human, at any rate. Were mating can be…kind of rough on the uninitiated. I’m trying not to scare you off.” He shot her a rueful expression, his grin catching her off guard, but charming her just the same. “Is it working?”

“Why don’t you come back over here and find out?” she challenged. He stepped back another pace. “Later,” he promised. “First, I want to show you something.” He held one hand out to his side, inviting her to take it. Like teenagers on a first date, she held his hand as they walked together toward the small waterfall. He stopped for a moment beside it and she listened to the trickling water, appreciating its peaceful bounty as the cool, moist air helped bank the fire he had started within her. “My mother used to come up here all the time when we were kids. We used to bring a picnic lunch and she’d let us play in the water and in the woods nearby. It was our special place.” Touched by his words, Sally looked up at him. “She sounds like a special lady.” “She was.” Sally sensed a wealth of pain in his simple words. “The year I became Alpha, she was killed in the violence. There was a bit of a clan war brewing until I stepped forward to claim leadership and broker peace. It was her death that finally turned me into the Alpha I am today. It was a harsh way to discover my own inner strength, but our world is like that sometimes. You should know this before you get in any deeper.” He turned to her, his expression earnest. “Right now, you’re on the periphery. Your friends are fully in our world, but you might get away with simply being watched by one of the vamp enforcers for the rest of your life. You could go on with your normal, totally human life. Only you would know what really goes on in the dark. And it wouldn’t affect you much, other than having to swear yourself to secrecy about your friends. Those ladies and their mates are powerful enough to allow you that freedom.” “Carly mentioned something like that last night.”

“Or…” he went on, “…you could choose to fully embrace the small part of you that has always been different. Like your friends, you could become part of the bigger world—the world where shifters and bloodletters and even magic users share the Earth with regular folk. The world where we live in secret among them. You could join my world, Sally. You could join with your wolf.” His words were so stirring, she felt in that moment, almost anything was possible. For a split second, she was ready to throw caution to the wind. She wanted to be with him, to embrace all that he was, and all that she could be. Then sanity interrupted. “I’m not sure.” Sally thought about her life to this point. Her hard-won career was waiting for her back home, along with a beautiful apartment she had spent the last three years decorating until she got it just so. Her life was somewhat empty, now that all her friends were married and they saw each other less frequently, but it was still her life. The one she had created for herself. “It’s okay.” Jason dropped her hand and tucked both of his into his jeans pockets. His shoulders hunched a bit as he began walking toward the woods. She followed. “You don’t have to make any decisions today. You’re on vacation, right? We’ll just see where things lead. But I figured I should draw your attention to the facts at least once before we do some serious sightseeing.” His smile was easy, but she could feel the undercurrent of tension in his voice. Her response mattered to him more than he was letting on, for some reason. She liked that he wasn’t pushing her too hard. She had things to think over and she needed to learn more about Carly’s new existence. She needed to learn a lot more about shapeshifters too, for that matter. This world was completely new to her, though not as unsettling as she would’ve expected.

Somehow, she had always suspected there was something more to the odd things that happened to her as a cop. She’d felt the pull of the full moon and chalked it up to coincidence, or perhaps superstition. She’d always been able to hear things others couldn’t and see things in greater detail than her colleagues. She had gained a reputation as a sort of super cop among her peers and enjoyed the way they treated her with increasing respect as she rose through the ranks. Hers was a sometimes violent job. It could be rewarding as well. Catching bad guys before they could harm anyone else had been her passion for a long time, though lately she had found herself more than once simply going through the motions. She hadn’t felt the same elation that she had when she was younger. Justice had become her goal in both work and life, and sometimes, it was hard to achieve. She’d become disillusioned with the system over the years and now that she was away from home for the first time in a long time, she realized she was at a crossroads. She could either continue the way she was going, or choose a new path. Jason had just laid a tantalizing new possibility before her. The question was, did she dare pursue it? “Jason…” She trailed off, uncertain how to ask all the questions in her mind. He turned toward her. They stood facing each other in the whispering woods. Suddenly the tension was back. The yearning. The need. “I had such good intentions.” His hand rose to touch her hair, tucking a loose strand behind her ear. His eyes honed in on her lips, parted…ready…willing. “I think I know how Adam must’ve felt in the Garden of Eden. You are temptation itself, my Eve.” “Sally,” she reminded him playfully, though she was touched by his words beyond bearing. No man had ever given her such verbal tribute. And no man

had ever looked at her like Jason did. As if she were special, though that was too mild a word. As if she held his world in the palm of her hands.

The man who vows to protect her may be her biggest threat.

Savage Hunger ©2012 Shelli Stevens

Savage, Book 1 Being the daughter of a world-renowned scientist, Sienna Peters has struggled to carve out her own career in the field. But her world is sent spinning when she discovers a secret species being held in the lab where she works, and the horrible things being done to them. Compelled to do more than hand off an information-packed jump drive to her father, she sets out to free the creatures. The minute his team enters the compound, federal agent Warrick Donovan knows their mission will have more trouble than they bargained on. Unfortunately, trouble comes in the form of Sienna Peters, the younger sister of his close friend. Now not only does he need to save her pretty ass, he needs to discover just how involved she is with the imprisonment of the shifters. Sienna knows she should trust no one—not even the man she might still love. But as the danger escalates and past passion ignites, her heart has other ideas. Even when the shroud of mystery is ripped off more than one stunning truth… Warning: Must love alpha males, be intrigued by federal agents who may or may not shift into wolves, and most importantly be prepared for intense action of the dangerous and sexual kind. Enjoy the following excerpt for Savage Hunger: “How much trouble are you in?” she asked quietly. His jaw flexed, before he gave a short shake of his head. “It doesn’t matter. I’ll face it when the time comes.”

No. Oh, God, no. He was in trouble. None of this would’ve happened if she were a better scientist. Or if she’d gone straight to her father. Or if she hadn’t tried to escape… The last thought sent a wave of guilt and horror through her that sucked away her ability to breathe. “Stop it,” Warrick muttered fiercely. “I know what you’re thinking, Sienna, and you need to stop.” “But I promised you I wouldn’t leave the house.” She shook her head, angry tears filling her eyes. A shifter was dead because she was an impulsive, stupid— Strong hands pulled her across the bed and her mind immediately abandoned its dark path as she found herself dragged up against Warrick’s hard chest. His arms curled around her to keep her cocooned against his warmth and his lips grazed her forehead. “Dammit, Sienna, I couldn’t watch you die,” the words seemed ripped from him almost as if he hated himself for saying them. “I was willing to risk whatever punishment the elders would pass down on me.” Whatever punishment the elders would pass down? His words tightened her throat and sent stabs of fear through her. Oh, please no. How had she not considered that Warrick could be in far more trouble than just a slap on the wrist? “You shouldn’t have to,” she whispered. “This is my fault. It’s always my fault. I shouldn’t have run. I should never have—” Warrick’s lips covered hers, smothering her frantic words. Her eyes widened before slipping shut, and a sigh of dismay parted her lips. His tongue plunged inside, claiming her mouth and calming her. Fracturing her guilt and fear into a million tiny pieces, sending her instead to a place of molten heat and need.

Sienna slid her hands up his back, clinging to him and kissing him fervently. Her heart jackhammered in her chest and her muscles turned to jelly with each delicious stroke of his tongue against hers. Her head spun with only the thought of them and this kiss. This connection that she never wanted to end. Warrick’s hands, so large and rough from life, moved to cup her face. She felt his possessive groan rumble from his chest against her breasts. Arousal sifted through her blood, stirring all the soft and hidden parts of her into awareness. She slid fully onto his lap so that she faced him and could wrap her naked legs around his waist. Her T-shirt bunched up around her middle and the thin fabric of her panties was little shield from his erection that strained against her through his jeans. A throbbing ache blossomed between her legs. Scalding lava seemed to have replaced the blood in her veins, bubbling and spreading a fire through her body as her arousal grew. Sienna rocked against him and his hips jerked upward, grinding into her so she felt the thick curl of his need. She moaned low in her throat, wanting so much more as her nipples tightened and panties dampened. Warrick’s kiss gentled and her heart clenched, because she knew he was going to lift his head in a moment. But he didn’t right away. Seemed just as reluctant to break the kiss as she was. His lips trailed to the corner of her mouth, his tongue flicking and his teeth nibbling while his hips ground against hers. He groaned again, before his head lifted and his lips feathered across her forehead. And then, then he was gone. The coolness of the air brushed against her skin and Sienna bit her swollen lip, not wanting to open her eyes and face the reality that he’d just ended another sensual moment. That it would go no farther than a heated, passionate kiss. “Sienna,” he said gently. “Look at me.”

Part of her wanted to deny him like a stubborn child. Keep her eyes closed and stay locked in a moment that had taken her to an alternate reality. The strong fingers that lifted her chin took the choice from her and her lashes fluttered open unwillingly. His eyes, more gray now than blue, swirled with need and yet a control that clearly spoke he had no intention of acting on his desire. “If you say that shouldn’t have happened again, I swear I’ll drive my elbow in to your ribs,” she threatened unsteadily. His lips twitched into what was almost a sad smile. “I’m not going to say that shouldn’t have happened, Sienna. I wanted to kiss you. Had to kiss you and feel you alive and clinging to me. Dammit, when I thought I almost lost you—” “You can have me, Warrick,” she cut in, her voice husky with desire. She reached for him again, sliding a hand up his jaw and feeling the prickle of stubble there scrape her palm. “All of me. I want you so much right now it’s a physical ache. How can you not see that? Feel that?” Something close to pain flickered across Warrick’s face as he caught her wrist and pushed it gently away. “You have no idea how much I want you,” he said raggedly. “But I can’t have you, Sienna—” “Why?” Her stomach clenched. “Is this some self-imposed torturous rule?” “No, it’s not my rule. It’s shifter law. We can only mate with other shifters. If we take a human mate we’re banished from the community.”

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