Into the Shadow Read online

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  Acknowledgements

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-one

  Chapter Thirty-two

  Chapter Thirty-three

  Chapter Thirty-four

  Chapter Thirty-five

  Teaser chapter

  Raves for Christina Dodd

  Touch of Darkness

  ‘‘A sweeping saga of good and evil, the series chronicles the adventures of four siblings who try to redeem their family from a pact an ancestor made with the devil a thousand years earlier. This latest promises to be one of her best to date.’’ —Library Journal

  "Enthralling, intense.’’ —The State (Columbia, SC)

  ‘‘Filled with action and adventure . . . a must read.’’

  —Midwest Book Review

  ‘‘Christina Dodd demonstrates why she is such a popular writer in any genre. The characters are boldly drawn, with action on all sides. Readers will be riveted until the final page.’’ —A Romance Review

  Scent of Darkness

  ‘‘The first in a devilishly clever, scintillatingly sexy new paranormal series by Christina Dodd.’’

  —Chicago Tribune

  ‘‘[A] satisfying series kickoff . . . [a] fast-paced, well-written paranormal with a full, engaging mythology and a handful of memorable characters.’’

  —Publishers Weekly

  ‘‘Dodd kicks off her new Darkness Chosen series with a bang. A multilayered heroine and a sizzling-hot hero give readers plenty of emotional—and physical—action, and the relentless game of hunter and prey adds an adrenaline ride for good measure.’’ —Booklist

  ‘‘Multigenre genius Dodd dives headfirst into the paranormal realm with . . . a scintillating and superb novel!’’ —Romantic Times (41⁄2 stars, Top Pick)

  Tongue in Chic

  ‘‘Christina Dodd is my go-to author when I want outrageously entertaining romantic suspense. I count on her for stories that deliver hot romance, fast action, and that magic ingredient—heart.’’

  —New York Times bestselling author

  Jayne Ann Krentz

  ‘‘RITA Award-winning Dodd’s latest sparkling romantic suspense novel is another of her superbly sexy literary confections, expertly spiced with sassy wit and featuring a beguiling cast of wonderfully entertaining characters.’’ —Booklist

  Trouble in High Heels

  ‘‘A book by Christina Dodd is like a glass of champagne . . . sparkling and sinfully delicious. Trouble in High Heels is one exciting ride and an experience not to be missed. With her electric style, vibrant characters, and sly wit, Christina Dodd gives readers everything they want in a romantic suspense novel.’’

  —Lisa Kleypas

  ‘‘Dodd will dazzle readers with this fabulously fun tale of danger, desire, and diamonds, which features yet another winning combination of the author’s trademark smart and snappy writing, delightfully original characters, and deliciously sensual romance.’’

  —Booklist (starred review)

  ‘‘Nonstop action, sparkling dialogue, and two characters who burn up the pages. . . . Provides readers with a story that is not only unique, but has pizzazz and leaves readers wondering who the bad and good guys are until the end.’’ —Romance Reviews Today

  . . . and her other novels

  ‘‘Dodd delivers a high-octane blowout finale. . . . This romantic suspense novel is a delicious concoction that readers will be hard-pressed not to consume in one gulp.’’ —Publishers Weekly

  ‘‘Warm characterizations and caperlike plot make Dodd’s hot contemporary romance a delight, and the cliff-hanger ending will leave readers eager for the sequel.’’ —Booklist

  "Dodd brings her unique sense of plotting, character, humor, and surprise to this wonderful tale. You’ll relish every word, cherish each poignant moment and ingenious plot twist, sigh deeply, and eagerly await the sequel. Dodd is clever, witty, and sexy.’’

  —Romantic Times

  ‘‘Dodd adds humor, sizzling sensuality, and a cast of truly delightful secondary characters to produce a story that will not disappoint.’’ —Library Journal

  ‘‘Strong and likable characters make this an enjoyable read. Ms. Dodd peppers the story with interesting secondary personalities, which add to the reading pleasure.’’

  —The Best Reviews

  ‘‘Sexy and witty, daring and delightful.’’

  —Teresa Medeiros, New York Times bestselling

  author of After Midnight

  ‘‘A master romantic storyteller.’’

  —Kristin Hannah, New York Times bestselling

  author of Angel Falls

  ‘‘Christina Dodd keeps getting better and better.’’

  —Debbie Macomber, New York Times bestselling

  author of Christmas Letters

  ‘‘Treat yourself to a fabulous book—anything by Christina Dodd!’’

  —Jill Barnett, New York Times bestselling

  author of Sentimental Journey

  Christina Dodd’s Darkness Chosen series

  Scent of Darkness

  Touch of Darkness

  Into the Shadow

  Christina Dodd’s romantic suspense

  Trouble in High Heels

  Tongue in Chic

  Thigh High

  SIGNET

  Published by New American Library, a division of

  Penguin Group (USA) Inc., 375 Hudson Street,

  New York, New York 10014, USA

  Penguin Group (Canada), 90 Eglinton Avenue East, Suite 700, Toronto,

  Ontario M4P 2Y3, Canada (a division of Pearson Penguin Canada Inc.)

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  Penguin Books Ltd., Registered Offices:

  80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England

  First published by Signet, an imprint of New American Library,

  a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

  First Printing, July 2008

  Copyright © Christina Dodd, 2008

  All rights reserved

  REGISTERED TRADEMARK—MARCA REGISTRADA
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  Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise), without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

  ISBN: 1-4406-3261-8

  PUBLISHER’S NOTE

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party Web sites or their content.

  The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

  http://us.penguingroup.com

  For Susan Sizemore—

  You let me borrow

  your amazing brain for plotting,

  You bless me with your wit and humor,

  Most of all, you’ve given me years

  (and years and years) of true friendship.

  That’s 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

  "Ye’re not normal."

  "You know, Magnus, when you get drunk, that brogue of yours gets so thick I can barely understand you.’’ Warlord’s voice was as soft and smooth—and as deadly—as the single-malt Scotch they’d 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 weren’t bloody damned dark out here in the middle of the Himalayas in the middle of nowhere, and if he hadn’t imbibed a wee bit o’ that fine whisky—that is to say, most of a bottle all to himself. And if he weren’t second in command of the mercenary troop, with a responsibility to point out the trouble a-brewing. ‘‘Ye’re not normal, and the men here, they know it. They whisper that ye’re a werewolf. ’’

  ‘‘Don’t be ridiculous.’’ Warlord sat high above the camp, silhouetted against the night sky, his arm crooked around his knee, his rifle in his hand.

  ‘‘That’s what I said, too. Because I’m a Scotsman. I know better. There’s no such thing as werewolves.’’ Magnus nodded wisely, and broke the seal on the second bottle. ‘‘There’s 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 bitch 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 bloody decent.

  Magnus continued, ‘‘I grew up on the bleakest of the Outer Hebrides islands, far to the north, where the bloody 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 Magnus’s fist and tipped it down his throat.

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

  ‘‘If we’re going to reminisce, I could use something to blunt the pain.’’ Warlord was a dark blot against the stars—an unnaturally dark blot.

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

  But whisky made Magnus gregarious, and he trusted Warlord—Warlord made the rules, and he was ruthless in enforcing them, but he was goddamned bloody fair.

  ‘‘Do ye miss yer home, then?’’ he asked.

  ‘‘I don’t think about it.’’

  ‘‘Ye’re right. What’s the point? We canna go back. They’ll 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, you’re marked for life and destined for hell.’’

  ‘‘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. That’s gotta help. Isn’t that why you freed them?’’

  ‘‘No. I freed them because I hate bullies, and those Chinese soldiers are assholes who think it’s funny to use holy men for target practice.’’ Warlord’s 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 chairman’s young son secret.

  Magnus grinned up and toward the east, where a glow on the horizon marked the rising moon. ‘‘You and me—we’ve whored together. We’ve 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.’’

  "It’s 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 don’t have to beg forgiveness from anybody.’’

  ‘‘That’s not what I mean, and ye know it. Ye’ve got a bad way about ye. The shadow ye cast is too black. When ye’re angry, you sort of’’—Magnus made a wiggling motion with his fingers—‘‘shimmer around the edges. Ye have a way of appearing out of nowhere, without a sound, and ye know things ye’ve got no business knowing, like that the Chinese general was buggering that lad. The men swear ye’re not human.’’

  ‘‘Why would they say that?’’

  ‘‘Because of yer eyes . . .’’ Magnus shivered.

  ‘‘What’s wrong with my eyes?’’ Warlord had that smooth, deadly tone in his voice again.

  ‘‘Have ye looked in the mirror lately? Bloody spooky, they are. That’s why the men have followed ye. But now there’s grumblings. ’’ Magnus braced himself for a wee bit of unpleasantness.

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

  ‘‘The men say ye’re not paying attention to business, that ye’re distracted by yer woman.’’

  ‘‘By my woman.’’ Warlord’s 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 light
en the atmosphere. ‘‘Bunch of old women, our mercenaries. ’’

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

  ‘‘Aye, but there’s 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. There’s rumors that the military on both sides of the border are tired of us thumbing our noses at them, and they’re bringing in enforcers. ’’

  ‘‘What kind of enforcers?’’

  ‘‘Canna get that answered, exactly. They’re being bloody secretive, they are. But they’re equal parts gleeful and, well . . .’’

  Warlord leaned forward. ‘‘Gleeful and . . . ?’’

  ‘‘I’d say they’re scared, too. Like maybe they started something they can’t stop. I’ll be frank with ye, Warlord. I don’t like any of this. We need ye to stop fooking the girl and find out what’s going on.’’ There. Magnus had passed on the message, and Warlord hadn’t 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 fooking place,’’ he muttered. ‘‘Nothin’ good ever came out of Asia except spices and gunpowder.’’

  Warlord laughed, and it almost sounded as if he were amused. ‘‘You’re right about that. My family’s from Asia.’’

  ‘‘Pull the other one, man. Ye’re not a Chinaman.’’

  ‘‘A Cossack from the steppes, from what is now the Ukraine.’’

  Magnus knew his geography; he’d worked that area of the world as a con man and a soldier. ‘‘The Ukraine—that’s 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 bastards.’’

  ‘‘You have heard of them.’’