Darkness Chosen: Into The Shadow Part 1

Darkness Chosen.

Into the Shadow.

Dodd, Christina.

For Susan Sizemorea".

You let me borrow

your amazing brain for plotting.

You bless me with your wit and humor, Most of all, youave given me years (and years and years) of true friends.h.i.+p.

Thatas the best gift of all.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS.

Writing a book like Into the Shadow is, as always, a joy and a challenge. Thank you to my editor, Kara Cesare, for her questions, comments, and enthusiasm. Thanks to Lindsay Nouis for all she does for me. Thank you to Kara Welsh and Claire Zion for their support for the Darkness Chosen series. Finally, a profound thank-you to Anthony Ramondo and his team in the art department for this fabulous cover.

DARKNESS CHOSEN FAMILY TREE.

Prologue.

On the border between Tibet and Nepal.

"Yeare not normal."

"You know, Magnus, when you get drunk, that brogue of yours gets so thick I can barely understand you." Warlordas voice was as soft and smootha"and as deadlya"as the single-malt Scotch theyad stolen.

"Ye understand me verra well." Magnus knew he would never have had the guts to make comments about Warlord, no matter how true, if it werenat b.l.o.o.d.y d.a.m.ned dark out here in the middle of the Himalayas in the middle of nowhere, and if he hadnat imbibed a wee bit oa that fine whiskya"that is to say, most of a bottle all to himself. And if he werenat second in command of the mercenary troop, with a responsibility to point out the trouble a-brewing. "Yeare not normal, and the men here, they know it. They whisper that yeare a werewolf. "

"Donat be ridiculous." Warlord sat high above the camp, silhouetted against the night sky, his arm crooked around his knee, his rifle in his hand.

"Thatas what I said, too. Because Iam a Scotsman. I know better. Thereas no such thing as werewolves." Magnus nodded wisely, and broke the seal on the second bottle. "Thereas things much worse than that. Do ye know why I know?"

Warlord said nothing.

He never said a word more than necessary. He was never kind. He was never friendly. He kept his secrets, and he was the meanest son of a b.i.t.c.h in a fight Magnus had ever seen. Yet while the lads were celebrating their latest plunder, he took the watch on the highest spot overlooking their hideout. For a man who excelled at stealing from rich tourists and government officials, and never caviled at killing when the occasion called for it, he was b.l.o.o.d.y decent.

Magnus continued, "I grew up on the bleakest of the Outer Hebrides islands, far to the north, where the b.l.o.o.d.y wind blows all the time, not a plant dares grow, and the old tales are repeated and repeated through the long winter nights."

"Sounds like a good place to be from." Warlord took the bottle from Magnusas fist and tipped it down his throat.

"Aye, that it is." Magnus watched his leader. "Ye dunna usually drink."

"If weare going to reminisce, I could use something to blunt the pain." Warlord was a dark blot against the starsa"an unnaturally dark blot.

In the morning, Magnus knew, head be sorry for nattering on like this. Like every man up here, head been scarred by cruelty and betrayal, the only d.a.m.ned thing he excelled at was fighting, and if he was ever caught by any government in the world, head be hangeda"or worse.

But whisky made Magnus gregarious, and he trusted Warlorda"Warlord made the rules, and he was ruthless in enforcing them, but he was G.o.dd.a.m.ned b.l.o.o.d.y fair.

"Do ye miss yer home, then?" he asked.

"I donat think about it."

"Yeare right. Whatas the point? We canna go back. Theyall not want us. Not with so much blood on our hands."

"No."

"But today we washed some of the blood away."

Warlord lifted his hand and looked at it. "Bloodstains last forever."

"How do ye know that?"

"My father made that quite clear. Once you take a deliberate step into evil, youare marked for life and destined for h.e.l.l."

"Aye, my father said the same stuff, right before he took off his belt and whaled on me." Magnus drooped, then perked up again. "Today those Buddhist monks were grateful, though. They showered us with blessings. Thatas gotta help. Isnat that why you freed them?"

"No. I freed them because I hate bullies, and those Chinese soldiers are a.s.sholes who think itas funny to use holy men for target practice." Warlordas voice vibrated with rage.

"You do have a thing about that. But this time we got paid in more than blessings." For the raid had been profitable, bagging them firearms, ammunition, and a Chinese general who had surrendered his liquor and his gold to keep the photographs of his liaison with the local Communist chairmanas young son secret.

Magnus grinned up and toward the east, where a glow on the horizon marked the rising moon. "You and mea"weave wh.o.r.ed together. Weave fought together. And I still dunna understand how ye always seem to know where the money is hidden and the liquor is stored and the scandals are richest."

"Itas a gift."

Magnus shook his finger at him. "Dunna distract me with yer blather! How did ye come to be such a creature?"

"The same way you did. I killed a man, ran away, and ended up here." Warlord lifted the bottle and toasted the snowcapped peaks that dominated their lives. "Here, where the only law is what I make, and I donat have to beg forgiveness from anybody."

"Thatas not what I mean, and ye know it. Yeave got a bad way about ye. The shadow ye cast is too black. When yeare angry, you sort of"a"Magnus made a wiggling motion with his fingersa""s.h.i.+mmer around the edges. Ye have a way of appearing out of nowhere, without a sound, and ye know things yeave got no business knowing, like that the Chinese general was b.u.g.g.e.ring that lad. The men swear yeare not human."

"Why would they say that?"

"Because of yer eyes . . ." Magnus s.h.i.+vered.

"Whatas wrong with my eyes?" Warlord had that smooth, deadly tone in his voice again.

"Have ye looked in the mirror lately? b.l.o.o.d.y spooky, they are. Thatas why the men have followed ye. But now thereas grumblings. " Magnus braced himself for a wee bit of unpleasantness.

"Why would there be grumblings?" Warlord asked with deceptive smoothness.

"The men say yeare not paying attention to business, that yeare distracted by yer woman."

"By my woman." Warlordas obsidian eyes gleamed in the dark.

"Did ye think no one would notice that ye disappear nights? They see you go, and they gossip." Magnus tried to lighten the atmosphere. "Bunch of old women, our mercenaries. "

Warlord was not amused. "Are they not happy with the results of this raid?"

"Aye, but thereas more to business than merely having a good fight and stealing a glorious amount of money." Magnus got down to business. "Our boys are worried about their safety. Thereas rumors that the military on both sides of the border are tired of us thumbing our noses at them, and theyare bringing in enforcers. "

"What kind of enforcers?"

"Canna get that answered, exactly. Theyare being b.l.o.o.d.y secretive, they are. But theyare equal parts gleeful and, well . . ."

Warlord leaned forward. "Gleeful and . . . ?"

"Iad say theyare scared, too. Like maybe they started something they canat stop. Iall be frank with ye, Warlord. I donat like any of this. We need ye to stop f.o.o.king the girl and find out whatas going on." There. Magnus had pa.s.sed on the message, and Warlord hadnat ripped his head off. Yet.

Magnus settled his back against the rock. The granite was cold. Of course. Except for the brief summer, these mountains were always cold. And in this valley, bound as it was on three sides by cliffs and on the long side by a gorge that dropped straight into a raging river, the constant wind whipped through his thinning hair and cut deep into his bones. "I hate this f.o.o.king place," he muttered. "Nothina good ever came out of Asia except spices and gunpowder."

Warlord laughed, and it almost sounded as if he were amused. "Youare right about that. My familyas from Asia."

"Pull the other one, man. Yeare not a Chinaman."

"A Cossack from the steppes, from what is now the Ukraine."

Magnus knew his geography; head worked that area of the world as a con man and a soldier. "The Ukrainea"thatas close to Europe."

"Close only counts in horseshoes and hand grenades." Warlord looked up at the stars. He sipped the whisky. "Have you ever heard of the Varinskis?"

Magnus went from mellow to murderous in a few seconds. "Those b.a.s.t.a.r.ds."

"You have heard of them."

"Eight years ago I was working the North Sea, doing a little pirating, picking up a few things, and three Varinskis caught up with me. Informed me it was their territory, said they were taking everything." Magnus stuck his finger against the indentation in his cheek where he was missing that molar. "I told them not to be greedy, I had enough for everybody. And listen, Iam no stranger to beatingsa"my father took the belt to me every day of his lifea" but those guys . . . Theyare why my nose is crooked. Theyare why Iam missing three toes and both little fingers. They about killed me, then tossed me into the ocean to drown. Doctors said that was why I didnat bleed to death. Hypothermia. Varinskis." He spit their name like venom. "Do you know the reputation those monsters have?"

"Yes."

"I hate those sons aa b.i.t.c.hes."

"Theyare my family."

Cold fear trickled down Magnusas spine. "The rumors about them area""

"All true."

"They canna be." Magnus clutched at his rapidly evaporating liquor-induced bliss.

"You said the men claim Iam not human."

Magnus dismissed that with as much bombast as he could summon. "The men are a bunch of ignorant savages."

"But I am human. A human with special gifts . . . the most marvelous, pleasurable, enticing gifts." Warlordas voice wove a spell around them.

"No need to tell me. Iam all for a man keeping his secrets." Magnus struggled to stand.

Warlordas hand clamped around his arm and jerked him down with a thump. "Donat leave, Magnus. You wanted to know."

"Dinna want to know that bad," Magnus muttered.

"You wanted rea.s.surance. Iam giving it to you." Warlord handed Magnus the bottle. Handed it to him as if he would need it. "A thousand years ago my ancestor, Konstantine Varinski, made a deal with the devil."

"f.o.o.k." Magnus had always hated stories like this. Hated them because he believed them.

He wished that the moon could wipe out the shadows, but it was barely half, and the bleak white light poked at the shadows but could not vanish them. He wished for some more of the men to keep him company, but the fools were in the valley, gambling, drinking, playing their stupid video games, and puking. n.o.body knew he sat up here, unearthing secrets better left buried, and now in fear of his life.

"Konstantine had a reputation on the steppes. He delighted in killing, in torture, in extortion, and it was whispered that his cruelty rivaled the devilas." Warlordas voice warmed with humor. "Satan didnat like those storiesa" Iad guess heas a little vaina"and he sought out Konstantine with the intention of removing him from the compet.i.tion."

"Dunna tell me Konstantine defeated the evil one," Magnus said incredulously.

"No, he offered himself as Satanas best servant. In return for the ability to hunt down his enemies and kill them, Konstantine promised his soul, and the souls of all his descendants, to the devil."

Magnus peered at Warlord, trying to see him, but as always the shadows around his leader were thick, dense, impenetrable. "Youare his descendant?"

"One of many. A son of the current Konstantine. " Warlordas strange eyes gleamed in the dark.

"I told ye. Long winter nights, and all the old tales told to frighten the children."

"The children should be frightened." Warlord lowered his voice to a whisper. "They should s.h.i.+ver in their beds to know creatures such as me are abroad in this world."

Magnus knew what evil was. His father had preached to him every day while he tried to beat the rebellion out of him. That was why, now . . . Magnus could almost feel the flames of h.e.l.l scorch his flesh. "Thatas a fantastic tale." He cleared his throat. "In a thousand years, I imagine itas gathered some frills. Some story-teller spiced it up to make it more exciting in the telling . . . donat ye suppose?"

A low growl rumbled out of Warlordas hidden form. "Why else do you think men seek me out when they want their enemies tracked down? Why do you think they hire me? I can find anyone, anywhere. Do you want to know how?"

Magnus shook his head. He did not want to know.

But it was too late.

"To Konstantine Varinski and to each Varinski since, the devil bequeathed the ability to change at will into a hunting animal."

"Change . . ." The light of the moon had reached them now, and Magnus stared at Warlord. Stared because he was afraid to take his gaze away. "So ye are a werewolf?"