“Weapons! Now!”

  The area flooded with confusion as his Eagles and Kendle flew to his side. The Indians did the same and Marc found himself in the crushing center of a mass of bodies. The feel of a gun in his side wasn’t unexpected, but infuriating.

  “Coward!” he hissed as the man pulled the trigger.

  Kendle’s knife went across the Chickasaw traitor’s throat an instant later and both men slumped to the dirt as the group pushed away from the battle.

  Marc slowly stood up, and Kendle’s eyes flashed crimson at the sight of the blood on him. When the orbs began shooting from her hands, Marc sighed in relief.

  Paul and Jax joined her, touching her arm to add their energy and increase her power.

  Marc felt the wound heal around the bullet as if it belonged there.

  Kendle sank to the ground, tears flowing down her red cheeks as she stared at her hands. “What am I?”

  Marc gave her the truth. “A weapon and a savior. You’ve come for blood and absolution, as have we all.”

  From that instant on, Kendle didn’t think her control would be an issue. Knowing her purpose, the reason life had so cruelly abused her, was a glaring light in her darkness. She would hold onto it and be whatever they needed.

  Marc got to his feet, expecting to have to comfort or confront their new men. He found all seven of them observing in awed amusement.

  “Do not stop on our account,” their leader stated thickly. “Your demons will be very useful to us.”

  The Delaware Indian carried scars on his chest that Marc knew only came from a painful ritual that few would even dare.

  “You know of others like us.”

  The tall Indian’s eyes lit with a tinge of crimson. “That would be true.”

  Marc laughed in delight. “Welcome, my brother. Welcome to the Shadow Riders.”

  6

  “I’m leaving after the final battle.”

  Marc had expected it. “I understand.”

  Losing Leslie had hurt Jax, changed him. The only fire he had left now was the kind a man used for killing. He needed to go out on his own and find out if there was anything else left on this planet that might satisfy him in her place. Marc thought the odds were slim.

  “You’ll keep in touch?”

  Jax shrugged. “Maybe.”

  Again, Marc understood. “You should take Paul along. He feels your pain, too.”

  Marc left Jax with a dumbfounded expression on his face. Marc didn’t want to lose either man, but they were almost useless to Safe Haven in their depression. Maybe together they could help each other continue to some sort of recovery instead of the expected downward spiral that grief brought.

  “We’re you always a Marine?”

  Marc frowned at the question as Kendle joined him, not sure how to answer.

  “Yes.”

  “Signed up as a teenager?”

  “Let’s say that,” he grunted, glaring toward the East. “Why?”

  “Just conversation.”

  They’d been hiding, waiting for the next group of soldiers to come through, for what felt like hours to Kendle. Being inside the ground was a horrible strain on her.

  “What were you? Before?”

  “A fallen star.”

  “You’re Sabrina Roberts. I’ve seen that show, seen you.” He viewed her suspiciously as the other men muttered and murmured, clearly listening. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

  “Because I’m not that person anymore. I’ve changed.”

  “For the better?”

  “It’s too soon to tell,” Kendle answered miserably. “What about you? Better now or before the war?”

  “Now,” he answered without a hesitation. “I was nothing before.”

  Kendle’s tone was thoughtful. “I thought my life was perfect. Now I can spot the flaws, the cracks I had to fill, and I keep wondering why I even bothered to survive at all. The ocean could have taken me. Would have been better for the future.”

  Marc was surprised to find he didn’t like her anxiety. “You were good. You taught people things with that show.”

  “I got off on the thrill. I could have done so much more.”

  “That’s true of us all, Kendle. The best you can do is make up for it. You know that?”

  Kendle settled down onto her bedroll. “Yes, I do. I’m where I’m supposed to be. I feel that strongly.”

  “So do I,” Marc whispered, moving to their spyhole. “So do I.”

  A quick look confirmed it would be a while yet and Marc took up his post near her, mind constantly spinning on one thing…the fastest way to do damage and get home to his heart.

  “Where was your group from?”

  Kendle sighed, thinking of the warm, tropical breezes she’d left behind. “Luke and I flew here from the south. The others were a traveling store that stopped to take our plane. They tried to help Luke, but none of us had any idea what to do. When he got better, we were all relieved. He was too weak for us to be on our own though, and the store clerks liked our stories of the island. They camped with us to let Luke regain his strength and then we stayed with them as they came west.”

  “Luke wasn’t really recovered,” Marc guessed.

  “No. The disease is hard to predict. I’m assuming it mutated, because what we dealt with on the island was merciless. Luke should have been driven insane in that couple of weeks. This stuff made him angry, but he was controlling it, learning to handle the rages. I thought he would beat it.”

  Kendle shuddered in revulsion. “One of the clerks cut her hand while cooking and Luke saw it. He…”

  “Snapped,” Marc filled in. He’d only seen a couple of the victims of the newest gut wrenching disease, but it had been enough to make him wary.

  “Yes. He infected two of them. I…I shot him that night, when he begged me to.”

  “And the others?”

  Kendle trembled, but Marc saw her strength, too. This was a hard, cold bitch when crossed.

  “They couldn’t control themselves as the disease sank in. They infected each other.” Kendle responded angrily in defense. “I went behind them, cleaned up their messes, and then I killed them.”

  “Why haven’t you snapped? You’ve been carrying it longer than him, right?” Kendle’ body went into a freeze that Marc recognized and loathed. “You were hurt first.”

  “Yes,” Kendle whispered. “But I’m stronger than Ethan. He can’t win.”

  Marc also realized she was still wrestling those demons and his concern grew. “How did your man become infected?”

  “We fought the pirates and their ghosts,” Kendle moaned lowly, hating to face those memories. “I didn’t know he’d been bit until we were in the air.”

  “And you’re sure you aren’t contagious?”

  “Yes.”

  The tone and his sharp mind put it together. “You have snapped.”

  Kendle was instantly filled with remorse. “Long before we came here. Luke was trying to help. He moved too fast and I…”

  “Couldn’t stop yourself.”

  “I’ll still stay away from your men as much as I can,” Kendle responded unhappily.

  “Too bad you can’t infect the enemy,” Marc mused, letting her know what type of plans he was making around her.

  Kendle didn’t care. She’d already wished for the same thing, but common sense had kept her from trying to make any type of a plan like that. If she let this disease loose, how would she pull it back?

  Marc had more questions, but was stopped from by the sound of hooves pounding on the pavement.

  The horses around them closed in, creating a wall of protection as Marc scanned the new riders.

  “From… Montana,” he figured out, using his grid to map their trail. It was another extremely useful skill he’d recently discovered. “They’re okay. Let them join.”

  Marc’s choice wasn’t questioned, even though he now had natural enemies together in close proximity. He would lead them to victory against the soldiers. It was the only grievance that they had time for.

  8

  “There are a dozen riders coming. They have shod horses.”

  Marc woke in a grouchy flash of alertness, stopping his horse. He was exhausted. They’d been traveling straight through and the city of Denver was close. They’d had people join them steadily, white, black, indian, and Marc had tended their wounds in gratitude for swelling the ranks. There were now hundreds of men in this group.

  “Have to do something about that soon,” he muttered, viewing the large dust cloud that said these new men were riding hard to catch up.

  The sight of the sombreros and pistols jerked Marc into the past and he drew his right Colt as he swung down from the horse.

  Marc waved the others back, going out to meet them himself. What did the Mexicans want?

  The group of riders slowed and stopped at enough distance to ease Marc’s riders, but not him. He remembered too much from the rest stop, from Zack’s memories.

  Two of the Mexicans slid from their horses and ambled out to meet him, grinning hugely.

  “It is you!”

  “We have news, senior Ghost.”

  Marc waited with his gun pointed down. “So talk.”

  The first man began to babble, but Marc watched the second man as he continued to evaluate those around them.

  “We wish to join your fight, senior! We can add many guns.”

  “Why?”

  Marc’s cold tone was telling his men that the Mexicans weren’t welcome and the demon spoke up quietly. We need them.

  “You want something,” Marc stated. “What?”

  Sebastian’s face lost all welcome. “It is true.”

  Marc didn’t pretend any ignorance. He needed the stories to grow. “What do you want?”

  Sebastian gestured rudely. “We have become peaceful in the south. The land is recovering, there is game again to hunt. We will not allow the United States to interfere with this.”

  Marc was convinced of the honesty. He just wasn’t sure he could stand to be around them every day without slitting the man’s throat. “You’ll stay back. Your kind has done a lot of damage to me personally. Trust will have to be earned.”

  Sebastian scowled. “Do not hold all Mexicans responsible for the actions of a few. Cesar was never one of us.”

  Marc blinked. “You knew him.”

  Sebastian grinned sadly. “My brother was never smart in his hatred of the Americans. It has always been their government we should have fought against–together.”

  Instinct said these men would add a great value to his army and Marc couldn’t deny that.

  “You’ll stay back until we trust you,” he repeated.

  “Aye, senior, but we will be there when it matters. You will see.”

  Marc wasn’t convinced, but didn’t argue the point. “Welcome to my riders.”

  The group was on the road a few minutes later and Marc let his mind return to the doze he’d been in before they arrived. He had to refill somehow soon, even if it meant getting someone alone for a while and stealing it without their notice. He had no idea how to…feed from people, but he was about to learn. Having the Mexicans with them would stretch his nerves to the breaking point if he didn’t have a reserve to use. He didn’t trust them at all and the fact that it was Cesar’s brother now staring hard enough to burn holes into his head, made it worse.

  The men with him also felt his unease, and kept the new riders as far from Marc and his woman as they could. Until he officially cleared them, the Mexicans would find body blocks and hostile attitudes.

  9

  “I can’t take all of you in there with me,” Marc told the group of riders hours later.

  They’d just reached the outskirts of Denver where he stopped them for a quick meal.

  “Each group needs to pick two men to go with me. The rest will stay out of Denver and out of sight. We’ll meet two miles south in 24-hours to give the reports.”

  “What if they haven’t come yet?” Sebastian asked.

  Marc shrugged. “We’ll set up a post and take turns. They won’t get through without our notice.”

  Marc waited for a protest and found men stepping forward. The others began heading for the outlying towns to gather provisions. Marc was pleased. Some of these groups were new to this life, while others had held onto their heritage over the centuries, but all of them were good hands to have.

  Marc’s remaining group had been cut to thirty and he waved these men into two lines. “No shooting. Not for any reason.”

  Kendle grimaced and eased off the trigger of her gun. If she didn’t spill blood soon, things were going to get ugly.

  Their ride through Denver was eerie, but uneventful. There was no sign of the soldiers or anyone else for that matter. The dead city didn’t even creak and groan around them. It smothered them with the decay and the awful visions. Most of 25 was harsh, ugly landscape that would never be livable again. The slavers and nature had destroyed this city and nothing moved but debris that hadn’t molded into place yet. Tall buildings and bone-dry sewers made perfect places to plan an ambush though. Marc took note of every choke point that he found.

  He quickly determined which intersection was a prime scouting spot and then took his group up high. For some of them, it was an uneasy trip through these remnants of the past, one they suffered with hands on holsters. For others, it produced waves of longing for all that had been stolen. The end result was thirty pissed people on the top floor of the Republic Plaza, waiting to see the men they would try to kill. It would be no easy job, but they would have this anger to drive them through the battle.

  Marc contemplated Sebastian, hating what he had to do now. “You and your men will go set up a base camp in Cheyenne. If they come through, you make it clear that you’ll fight to hold what Cesar claimed for your country.”

  Sebastian’s lined face was full of disbelief. “You are crazy!”

  Marc went on with his plan. “When you threaten to detonate the nuclear warhead that you’re in control of, they’ll report it to their base and go south instead. They’ll send a special team for you.”

  “By then, we’ll be gone,” Sebastian guessed, starting to understand the trap Marc was making.

  “Yes. You’ll be on the battalion’s flank, waiting on them to go through Denver. Once they do, we’ll make sure they can’t turn back by having your group and few others there, picking them off.”

  “They could come over 70, or even detour up 76,” Thaddeus pointed out, face buried in the map.

  Marc waved a hand at the leader of the newest arrival to join their crusade. “Grendin’s people are in Montana. They’ll make sure the soldiers find only blocked routes. We’ll make a chute and send them straight down to a slaughter.”

  Marc pointed to a spot along 40, lingering here and there as he spoke. “Once they reach Texas, we attack from both sides, openly, with everything we have. It’s being set up as we speak.”

  “And when they enter tribal lands, their path will get rough.”

  Atolius’s statement brought protests.

  “They’ll know by then.”

  ‘They’ll avoid it.”

  “Yes. Right before they hit Oklahoma, I expect them to detour north.”

  Atolius stood up proudly. “My people have longed to return to the plains, as have many others. Perhaps the time has now come for our warriors to scout an area and persuade intruders to stay away.”

  Marc clapped him on the shoulder. “Do it now, if you can. You’ll need the time to set up. Stay northeast of 40 and kill as many as you can if they try to punch through.”

  “Where will you be?” Natoli asked respectfully. There was little honor for his people if they were all sent way.

  “The Ghost is everywhere.”

  “And where will Natoli be?”

  Marc’s eyes glowed brightly. “By my side, as my cloak. If you’d have that place.”

  “I would,” Natoli responded gratefully.

  “What if they go south?” Kendle rudely interrupted the male bonding moment.

  “There is no south,” Sebastian told her. “South Texas is contaminated. We traveled for a week to get around it. They will not risk taking their men through a radiation zone during a battle.”

  Kendle could find no fault with that and remained silent as Marc went on.

  “By the time they get to Oklahoma, we’ll be doing steady damage, but it won’t stop them. We’ll be pushed straight to the base, where my Eagles are preparing for their arrival. We’ll stall them there and dig in. They won’t send more men unless this first group can claim the middle ground target.”

  Marc’s confidence made it easy to believe it could happen like he was predicting. He didn’t tell them it was more likely that the government’s reinforcements would meet at the base to overwhelm them.

  “The goal of every man and woman here is to kill fifteen of them before they reach this point.” Marc showed them on the map. “We have to cut their numbers in half or better by then, and convince their command that they’ll lose a lot if they want to continue this fight with us. They don’t have endless soldiers anymore and I know that because they’re sending ground troops instead of planes.”

  “When do we come to the base and fight there?” Red Stone asked, dark face eager.

  “When I call to say we’re pinned down.” Marc answered. “Take a two-way radio and box of batteries from the small faraday cage we made on the ride. Don’t forget the code sheets. When I call, all teams and groups will close in and attack simultaneously from all sides. We will also be firing at them from the center and it will create a perfect trap.”

  “A duck-shoot,” Kendle stated happily.

  “Yes.”

  “And what will we use against their armor?” Sebastian asked. “Our bullets and arrows will be useless.”

  Marc unrolled a small target outline he’d drawn earlier. “Weak points are the neck, here, above the brow, and the inside of the wrists. The one you should concentrate on is the neck. Wait for them to duck or reach for something, and you’ll have a small opening.”