The Eldritch Conspiracy (Blood Song) Read online

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  DEDICATION AND ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  As always, first and foremost, this book

  is dedicated to Cathy’s loving husband,

  Don, and Cie’s equally loving son,

  James. Also, to our family, friends, and

  readers, and to all those people who

  have made serious mistakes and have

  owned up to them and tried to make it

  right. It’s not easy, and it deserves

  kudos.

  Our thanks to all of the people who

  help a book like this make it to print. To

  our wonderful agents, Merrilee Heifetz

  of Writers House and Lucienne Diver of

  The Knight Agency, our brilliant

  (blindingly) editor, Melissa Singer, and

  all of the unsung heroes at Tor who work

  so hard on our behalf. There are too

  many to name, but we do appreciate

  everything you do.

  Finally, a brief nod to Angie, who

  was kind enough to let us use her maiden

  name for Bruno’s first love. We

  appreciate it.

  AUTHORS’ NOTE

  The Guardians of the Faith do not exist.

  We made them up. They are of no

  particular religious conviction and

  aren’t meant to depict any. We needed

  an extremist group who would use

  religion as an excuse for their actions, so

  we created one. Because of where we

  placed our fictional kingdom of Rusland

  in Celia’s reality, King Dahlmar is a

  member of the Russian Orthodox church,

  but the Guardians of the Faith are not in

  any way meant to be connected with that

  or any other church in our reality. The

  ritual Akkan is also a product of our

  imagination. Too, while there is, sadly,

  serious turmoil along parts of the

  U.S./Mexico border in our reality, and

  actual drug tunnels exist, the drug lords

  in this book are not based on any actual

  people, living or dead. The names were

  made up at random based on common

  Latino names. Similarly, the tunnels are

  not based on any real locations.

  Cathy is a big fan of comic books. Cie

  is a huge fan of comics-based movies.

  There are nods to both DC and Marvel

  in this book, should you care to find

  them.

  Also, in case anyone was wondering,

  the cat poster in the GA office exists.

  Cie owns it. The sign about the end of

  the tunnel is directly copied from a sign

  posted on a student’s locker at a law

  school where Cie worked over a decade

  ago. Alas, we can only credit it as

  “Anonymous,” but we know that we are

  quoting.

  CONTENTS

  Title Page

  Copyright Notice

  Dedication and Acknowledgments

  Authors’ Note

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Tor Paranormal Romance Books by C.

  T. Adams and Cathy Clamp

  About the Author

  Copyright

  1

  We were running out of time.

  We’d crawled into the tunnels two

  hours ago, planning to be underground

  for only an hour. We’d planned to use

  the drug lord’s own ATVs—parked in

  the main tunnel—to haul ass across the

  border, arriving in the United States near

  Calexico. It wasn’t a great plan, but

  better than waiting for the cartel to tear

  apart the village looking for us.

  But things had changed. Roving

  groups of guards had forced us into the

  side tunnels. Luis had assured me they

  would lead us to the same place and that

  the trip would only take a little longer.

  But we’d gotten turned around twice and

  now there was only an hour left before

  sunset.

  “I need to rest, Celia. Please, can’t

  we stop and sit down for a second?”

  Serena’s whisper made me flinch and

  I stole a moment to look at her face. She

  was nearly as pale as the vampires I

  feared would rise when night fell, and I

  didn’t doubt she was in a lot of pain. I

  eased some of my irritation by

  remembering what it had felt like to

  walk with a broken leg in a makeshift

  splint.

  “We don’t have much time, Serena.

  We have got to get you to safety.” My

  voice was likewise a whisper. It wasn’t

  just that she was a nice person who

  deserved to get home to her family in

  Milwaukee, which she was—but she

  was the last employee of MagnaChem’s

  Mexico City plant and if she didn’t make

  it out alive, I didn’t get paid my full fee.

  She let out a small noise that was part

  whimper and part swear. She stopped

  walking and I had to as well unless I

  planned to drag her. I couldn’t carry her

  —the tunnel simply wasn’t big enough.

  We had to crouch slightly to keep from

  banging our heads on the support beams,

  and two people barely fit, standing side

  by side. Raising a hand to push the

  sweaty hair from her face, Serena began

  to beg. “I know. I do. But just five

  minutes. Please. Don’t we have a charm

  left?”

  Maria turned and
looked at me with

  concern. We did have one. But there was

  a problem. “Yes, but we only have one

  Blackout charm left and we need it to

  cancel the noise of opening the tunnel

  exit. We’ll be vulnerable when we

  crawl out if anyone hears.”

  Serena nodded and bit at her lip, then

  took a deep breath of stale air and

  stepped forward, leaning heavily on me,

  trying not to drag her shoe through the

  hard-packed dirt because noise echoed

  down here. I could tell she was mulling

  over the situation. I’d carried her in the

  main tunnel, when I thought we were

  going to use the ATVs. The main tunnels

  were smooth and wide, with concrete

  floors and excellent lighting. But this

  branch was almost claustrophobically

  narrow, the chiseled stone broken only

  occasionally by hand-fitted support

  beams of raw wood. The dim lighting

  was from low-wattage bulbs strung on

  wires along the ceiling, about half of

  which actually worked. The ventilation

  wasn’t great, either. I was sweating

  heavily enough that the blouse beneath

  my jacket was sticking to my body and

  my bra was soaked.

  Going into the tunnels where local

  priests told us the vampires live had

  been crazy. But desperate people take

  insane risks. After six weeks in Mexico,

  “desperate” was definitely a word that

  described me.

  Ahead of us, Luis raised his hand and

  stopped cold. I likewise stopped while

  he listened. If I weren’t so tired, I could

  have amped up my hearing. One of the

  nice things about being partially a

  vampire was having enhanced senses.

  But I was just so damned tired. It was

  all I could do to keep trudging along.

  Even my adrenaline rushes only brought

  me back to near normal.

  After a long moment, Luis eased

  backward and lowered his voice to

  where he could barely be heard. “We’re

  nearing the main tunnel again, but there

  are guards. If we stay here for five

  minutes or so, they’ll pass and then we

  can reenter the good tunnel.”

  Beside me, Serena let out a relieved

  breath. So, she would get her rest after

  all. I took a breath and helped her to a

  sitting position, making sure her leg

  remained as straight as possible. It was

  swelling badly but there wasn’t anything

  we could do until we got to a doctor or

  healer. I’d long ago expended every

  charm in my medkit on the others I’d

  already gotten to safety, ferrying them

  one at a time across the border.

  Maria, Luis, and I took up perimeter

  positions in the near darkness. There

  would be no rest for us. At least I’d had

  the good sense to make sure a priest

  blessed not only me, but also my

  weapons and ammunition. Vampires

  laugh off regular bullets. They don’t

  laugh at holy items. They don’t find fire

  amusing, either, which was why Luis

  was wearing a homemade flamethrower.

  I really, really, hoped he didn’t have

  to use it. A blast from the flamethrower

  would use up oxygen better left for

  breathing, and I didn’t relish the thought

  of a possible cave-in if one of the

  support beams got badly damaged.

  I shuddered in the dark, painfully

  aware

  of

  the

  not-quite-corpses

  “sleeping” somewhere in the tunnels.

  “I’m afraid of vampires,” Serena

  whispered. “Present company excluded,

  of course.”

  I turned from watching behind us to

  glance at her. “Any sane person is. I sure

  am.” That seemed to surprise her enough

  that I elaborated. “I’ve killed my share. I

  wouldn’t be alive otherwise.” Even

  though that was only partially true. “And

  I am still alive. The master vampire who

  bit me didn’t finish the job.” I have

  prominent, pointed canines, death-pale

  skin, and some enhanced healing

  abilities, among other things. But I still

  have my soul and mind. Most bats don’t.

  That was another one of the reasons I

  really wasn’t liking these tunnels. It

  wasn’t just that I was afraid of feral

  bats, I was afraid of becoming a feral

  bat.

  I felt, rather than saw, something in

  the darkness. Maria stirred next to me,

  just a little flutter of the rope that bound

  us to each other so we didn’t wind up

  getting separated.

  “What’s the problem,

  Graves?”

  Maria’s voice was the barest breath of

  sound in my ear, a surprise since she’s

  under five foot one and I’m five foot ten

  in my bare feet. I guessed she was

  standing on her tiptoes. Luis likewise

  moved closer until we were a mass of

  bodies, like elephants circling the

  wounded and vulnerable members of the

  herd.

  Maria Ruiz Ortega had started this

  adventure as my guide. She’d felt she

  owed me a favor after I saved her

  brother Lorenzo’s life (and missed my

  own flight out of what amounted to a war

  zone because of it). Luis was her other

  brother. They were astonishingly good

  looking, charming when they wanted to

  be, and absolutely deadly. Luis seemed

  like he was probably full human, but

  unless I missed my guess, with the full

  moon, Maria shifted. Werewolves are

  tough. Very tough. Between me, her, and

  a good flamethrower, if there was a way

  of getting out of this alive, we would.

  I didn’t answer, just used my arm to

  hold her back. Someone was coming.

  They were moving very quietly, their

  footfalls nearly silent on the smooth

  concrete floor to our left. Sunset was

  close and my inner vampire was ready

  to come out to play. In the past year I’ve

  gotten much better at controlling my

  blood lust and other abilities. Stress

  makes it harder, but here and now, they

  were useful. I could smell the faint scent

  of Maria’s soap, her brother’s sweat,

  and the rubber inner tube we’d used to

  secure Serena’s broken leg to the

  boards.

  More important, I could hear the

  pounding of their hearts and the tiny,

  frightened gasps from the wounded

  woman on the floor. And another

  heartbeat, one that was slow and steady.

  And close.

  Maria helped me get Serena to her

  feet without even a whisper of noise. I

  pulled one of my knives from its wrist

  sheath and cut the rope that connected us.

  If we had to fight, or run, we needed to

  be able to move independently. Then we

&n
bsp; waited quietly.

  There was a muffled crackle of radio

  static from less than a foot away and

  then a burst of Spanish that my mind

  translated efficiently. “Garcia, do you

  see them?” Before I came down here, my

  Spanish had been minimal, but I learn

  quick. I now understood every word

  coming over the man’s radio earpiece

  and every word he spoke.

  “No. I’m only fifty yards from the exit

  and there’s no sign of them. Either they

  got away or they’re still back in the

  tunnels somewhere. It’s almost dark.

  What are our orders?”

  A pause while we each held our

  breath. “Two more minutes, then we

  evacuate and seal the tunnels. If they’re

  in here, the bats will take care of them.”

  “What about the boss’s whore?”

  “If the Abomination hasn’t already

  eaten her, leave her. Paulo said he’s

  tired of her bitching anyway.” There was

  a muffled snort of laughter in front of me.

  Maria stiffened beside me, her lips

  peeling back from her teeth in a silent

  snarl.

  So, this had been a trap from the

  beginning. Only the fact that I refused to

  cooperate, hadn’t allowed myself to be

  led where Maria had wanted to go, had

  kept us alive this long.

  There was a soft gasp from Luis as he

  realized the truth. She had planned to

  lead him to slaughter. But his gasp

  wasn’t soft enough. I felt the air shift as

  the man in front of me turned.

  The moment he was in range, I leapt,

  bringing my knife up at an angle. If he

  was tall, it would catch him in the guts;

  if average height, it would hit under the

  ribs. I put my all of my weight behind the

  attack, because if he was wearing a

  spelled vest, the knife might not get

  through at all.

  He wasn’t tall, and the spells on his

  vest weren’t a match for my strength,

  along with the magic of a knife that

  qualifies as a magical artifact all by

  itself. The knife slid in and I felt his

  weight start to sag as wetness poured out

  over my hand. He tried to shove his gun

  into me but I slammed my hand onto it

  and his shots went down, ricocheting off

  of the floor and into the alcove.

  Luis swore in pain and startled anger,

  and I smelled that he’d been hit by a

  stray bullet. I was just glad none of the

  ricochets had hit the tank strapped to his

  back.

  The scent of blood was everywhere.

  My vision sharpened, my canines

  elongated. Saliva filled my mouth. I