Cold Moon Rising Read online

  PRAISE FOR THE WORLD OF THE SAZI

  Hunter’s Moon

  “I read the book in one sitting. A world this enjoyable deserves more than one visit. This book has some new twists in the werewolf’s tail that are very cool.”

  —Laurell K. Hamilton

  “This unusual, artfully constructed, and enticing blend of horror and romance will have wide appeal with its male point of view, intensely sexy love story, and caperlike action.”

  —Booklist

  “This incredible novel is inventive, totally riveting, as well as surprisingly tender in spots. Adams and Clamp are a powerhouse team that has opened the door to an amazing new world.”

  —Romantic Times BOOKreviews

  (4½ stars, Top Pick)

  “Filled with an abrasive charm, intriguing characters, and a dry wit, Hunter’s Moon is a must read for the fall season.”

  —Romance Reviews Today

  Moon’s Web

  Romantic Times BOOKreviews Magazine’s Best

  Werewolf Romance

  “Adams and Clamp are adept at writing intensely sensual, hot lovemaking scenes, but where they really shine is in the creation of an unforgettable world where secret shape-shifters live, love, and scheme. Laurell K. Hamilton readers will enjoy this edgy world.”

  —Booklist

  “It’s only taken two books for the dynamic duo of Adams and Clamp to cement their position as premier authors of paranormal fiction. Gritty and unique, with amazingly Byzantine character development, this inside look at the unconventional world of shape-shifters is a page-turner in the truest sense.”

  —Romantic Times BOOKreviews

  (4½ stars, Gold Medal, Top Pick)

  “It’s rare when a second book surpasses the first, but Moon’s Web explodes onto the scene, earning a Perfect 10. If you’re a fan of Laurell K. Hamilton or Kelley Armstrong, Moon’s Web is definitely a book for you!”

  —Romance Reviews Today

  “C. T. Adams and Cathy Clamp have outdone the wonderful job they did with Hunter’s Moon! The action begins on the very first page and doesn’t let up throughout the story.”

  —Paranormal Romance Reviews

  TOR PARANORMAL ROMANCE BOOKS BY

  C. T. ADAMS AND CATHY CLAMP

  THE SAZI

  Hunter’s Moon

  Moon’s Web

  Captive Moon

  Howling Moon

  Moon’s Fury

  Timeless Moon

  Cold Moon Rising

  Serpent Moon*

  THE THRALL

  Touch of Evil

  Touch of Madness

  Touch of Darkness

  WRITING AS CAT ADAMS

  Magic’s Design

  *Forthcoming

  Cold Moon

  Rising

  C. T. ADAMS

  and CATHY CLAMP

  paranormal romance

  A TOM DOHERTY ASSOCIATES BOOK

  NEW YORK

  The author and publisher have provided this e-book to you without Digital Rights Management software (DRM) applied so that you can enjoy reading it on your personal devices. This e-book is for your personal use only. You may not print or post this e-book, or make this e-book publicly available in any way. You may not copy, reproduce or upload this e-book, other than to read it on one of your personal devices.

  Copyright infringement is against the law. If you believe the copy of this e-book you are reading infringes on the author’s copyright, please notify the publisher at: us.macmillanusa.com/piracy.

  NOTE: If you purchased this book without a cover, you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as “unsold and destroyed” to the publisher, and neither the authors nor the publisher have received any payment for this “stripped book.”

  This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the authors’ imagination or are used fictitiously.

  COLD MOON RISING

  Copyright © 2009 by C. T. Adams and Cathy Clamp

  All rights reserved.

  A Tor Book

  Published by Tom Doherty Associates, LLC

  175 Fifth Avenue

  New York, NY 10010

  www.tor-forge.com

  Tor® is a registered trademark of Tom Doherty Associates, LLC.

  ISBN 978-0-7653-5964-3

  First Edition: August 2009

  Printed in the United States of America

  0 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

  DEDICATION and ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  As always, we would first like to dedicate this book to Don Clamp and James Adams for all their help and support in our writing careers. We’d also like to thank our agent, Merrilee Heifetz, and her wonderful assistants for their continued faith in us and the worlds we write. Of course, every book is only as good as the editing inside, so kudos to Anna Genoese, Heather Osborn, Jozelle Dyer, and Melissa Frain for everything you’ve done in getting this book from the computer to the shelves. You guys are the best! Finally, we lost the brilliance of several authors this year, and we’d like to say a final, heartfelt thank you and good-bye to those authors who inspired us and let us live in their worlds for a time. Rest in peace Michael Crichton, Tony Hillerman, Arthur C. Clarke, Barrington J. Bayley, Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn, William F. Buckley, Jr., Janet Kagan, Thomas M. Disch, and so many others who made life more enjoyable. Also a fond farewell to Tor editor Brian M. Thomsen and publishing legend Robert Giroux. May you have all possible rewards in the hereafter for your efforts to enrich our lives. If you’ve never picked up one of their books, please do. You’ll understand why we’re thanking them.

  AUTHORS’ NOTE

  Welcome back to the dangerous, supernatural world of Tony and Sue Giodone. For those of you who hoped to be brought up-to-date about everything that has happened in their life since Hunter’s Moon and Moon’s Web . . . well, we tried. But in Tony’s world it’s only been a year (though quite an eventful one!) since he and Sue met, and some of the things you’ve wondered about haven’t actually happened yet. So we did the best we could to catch you up without too much “name dropping.”

  We do hope you enjoy meeting Liz Sutton-Kendall. Liz is about to start her own adventures in a new series, and we expect life will be every bit as . . . interesting . . . for her as it has been for Tony.

  As for Tony, as you’ll see here, life as a Sazi is never, ever dull. Still, he’s adjusting to his new job as a Wolven agent—which in his opinion really isn’t that different from his old job freelancing. But the past has a way of catching up with people when you least want or expect it.

  In answer to the most frequently asked questions we’ve received by e-mail and in blogs:

  Asri still hasn’t had her babies. Sazi dragons have long gestation periods. And they are no fun to be around during the process. So Bobby has wisely been giving his new bride a wide berth and putting in some extra time with Wolven. While we don’t know yet whether the babies will be dragons or pythons, it will be a multiple birth, and they will both be very glad when it’s over.

  The Chicago pack is doing well. Nikoli is representing the wolves on the council quite well, and the Duchess is becoming a force to be reckoned with. Yurgi and his “Pemela” have found the house of their dreams and will be having a barbeque soon to celebrate the birth of their first child. Yes, those of you who guessed that the werespider took her for that reason were right!

  We hope that you enjoy this latest adventure, and we look forward to bringing you more tales of all sorts in the future.

  To sign up for our newsletter/fan information, contact us at [email protected].

  Cold Moon

  Rising

  Chapter One

  SWEAT ROLLED DOWN my for
ehead, trailing ribbons of salty wetness through the layers of caked-on grime. I swatted at another black fly intent on sucking my blood.

  There were a lot of bugs hovering just outside my reach, but only the extremely hungry ones dived in for a meal. They just don’t seem to like the taste of magical blood.

  The muscles in my right arm were starting to get tired from all the swinging. Although sharp and efficient, the machete did little to clear a path through the dense canopy of green surrounding me. I heard Will Kerchee having to cut his own path, even though he followed close behind. Shadows still enveloped us, but a reddish-gold glow on the horizon told me two things: it was going to be hot, and it was going to rain. Both of which meant it was going to be muggy as hell for the rest of the job.

  “We apparently have different concepts of access, Kerchee. When you said we could get here easily, I presumed there’d be a road.” The jungle seemed to swallow my words so they were barely a murmur above the raucous noise overhead. I suppose I couldn’t blame the various prey animals for screaming about our presence here. The alpha magic that enveloped me, tethered me to Will, did keep away the press of the moon that struggled to pull wolf fur from beneath my skin. But it also pressed against the animals, warned them of our journey through their home. The sheer weight of it was like being stuffed inside a dry suit in the heat—or a sausage casing. It was enough to make me want to scream too. As it was, I had to fight an urge to climb the trees and rip out their screeching, furry little throats.

  Everything was too intense, a by-product of the supernatural power that made me a creature bound to the moon’s whim. Every scent was like a knife through my brain for the three days surrounding the full moon. If people wonder whether animals feel joy or worry or frustration . . . yep, they do. I could smell their emotions drifting on the air. But the mere reality of emotions doesn’t mean I’m not going to eat my next burger with all the enthusiasm of the wolf inside. I’m more of a carnivore now than I ever was. Raw meat smells like heaven now and blended with the hot-and-sour-soup scent of terror around me, around us, the glands at the back of my jaw were drooling in time to the growl from my stomach.

  “Geez, Giambrocco. Whine, whine, whine,” Will replied with at least as much of a wheeze as I’d hoped to hear. “I said I could get here easily. Why in the hell Lucas stuck me with a partner for this job who can’t fly is beyond me.”

  It was beyond me, as well. Lucas Santiago is our boss and is usually pretty bright. But this time I was wondering. It was bad enough to deal with the reality of being a shape-shifter, when such things aren’t supposed to exist. But Will could shift into a bird? No, that was still a bit too much for this former mobster brain to handle this early in the morning. Yeah, I’ve seen him shift and fly off as the massive bald eagle he is, but it’s no less hard to deal with for the experience.

  Another fly bit me, and I slapped my neck. My normally sensitive ears, made a dozen times worse by the sting of the moon, registered the clap of flesh on flesh and the slight squishing sound at the level of a jet takeoff. I’d probably be deaf already if not for the healing powers us imaginary monsters have. I took my hand away from my neck to look at the smear of blood-covered insect legs on my palm. Got it! The scent was enticing enough to cause me to bring my hand up to mouth and lick the blood off. Yuck. I hate it when I do that. I spat onto the ground to clear out the taste.

  A clearing appeared in front of me, and I took the opportunity to lift my canteen to my mouth and take a long swig. What I wouldn’t give for a cold beer right now.

  Will was still chopping away at the thick undergrowth several yards back, so I took the opportunity to take a long sniff of the slight breeze that finally stirred the leaves.

  It wasn’t far now. Oil, diesel, and unwashed humans with supernatural blood fought for dominance in my nose from the distance, yet we were still too far away for even my sensitive hearing. But there were no telltale outlines in the darkness. I can see colored auras around other Sazi, giving me warning when they’re nearby. Will stood out like a beacon in the sunlight. But I’m told that nobody else but me and one or two others can see the lights—they call it second sight.

  We could hope I wasn’t missing anything.

  A swishing sound next to my ear made my instincts take over. I moved sideways, fast, and reached out to stop the arm holding the long, curved machete in midstroke. The black leather glove I’ve started to wear on jobs squeaked from the sudden effort and slid against my sweaty palm. Then I pulled the body attached to the arm into the clearing beside me.

  “Think you might be a little more careful with that thing?” I asked in a harsh whisper, because now I was starting to catch whispers of machinery in the distance.

  Will took off his pith hat and mopped at his brow. I thought the pith hat was a little overkill. A green cotton headband served me just fine.

  When he set the hat back on he replied, “Wuss. You’d heal. Besides, I missed, didn’t I?”

  I shook my head and adjusted my backpack and rifle sling. “Not for lack of trying. And keep your voice down. We’re close now.”

  Will began to remove his backpack. The khaki cotton shirt hung like a limp dishrag from his bronze skin, sopping wet with sweat. The smell was almost enough to make me retch. I glared at him with disgust. None of the other Native Americans I’ve met dripped sweat like this guy.

  “What?” he asked with irritation, as he dropped into a squat on a moss-covered rock.

  “Have you ever heard of deodorant, Will?” I asked in the same whisper.

  “Birds sweat in human form, Tony. We just do. I have antiperspirant and deodorant on,” he replied in a normal voice with a withering look. “But I only put it under my arms, like everyone else in the world. I didn’t coat my body with the shit. Wish we would have had enough time to get some of the Wolven cologne that would kill our scents. This job is going to be tough enough without the bad guys smelling us coming a mile away.” He paused and shook his head in frustration. “Damn wolves and your touchy noses. Hope the snakes aren’t as sensitive.” He pulled a slightly less damp cloth from his pants pocket, then took off his helmet and set it on the ground beside him. I was a little surprised that he kept his hair high and tight, regardless of regulations. Once again, many I met around Nevada tended to fight for their tribal right. But he did strike me as the strict law-and-order type. He wiped his face again. “It’s hot, and we’re not exactly going to a fashion show. Besides, you’ve been keeping a pace that would kill a draft horse. My calves are killing me. Don’t you ever get tired?”

  He opened his pack and removed a roll of beef jerky. I’ve always been fond of beef jerky. But after three days tramping through the jungle eating nothing but, I was starting to change my opinion.

  I let the backpack slide from my shoulders and leaned my Kalashnikov against the nearest tree. My own shirt was wet enough to wring out, so I figured I might as well. “Hell, I didn’t get tired back when I was a vanilla human. Plus, we’re on a tight schedule,” I replied quietly, stripping the faded green ex-army jacket from my body. “I don’t know about you, but I had other plans this week than wandering through the jungle hoping to find where a captured Wolven agent is being held. It’s just good luck that I stumbled on that guard last week in the restaurant bar and could use my hindsight to fix Rayna’s location. Who knew that three-day snakes got drunk on tequila so easy?” I twisted the shirt diagonally and watched as wetness poured onto the green grass. A pretty easy way to mark my territory, I had to admit.

  “I’m pretty sure my foresight might have had something to do with us being in that bar, so back off, wolf.” I think he was annoyed that one of my Sazi magic abilities is hindsight—the ability to see and experience someone else’s memories when I touch them, while his is foresight—the gift of seeing the future. The hindsight is the reason for the gloves. It’s a skin-on-skin thing, and fortunately, although annoying and uncomfortable, gloves do help slow down accidental images. Hindsight is very matter-of-fact, and
pretty damned useful. You’re seeing what already happened, which lets me see details of an event that Kerchee’s ever-changing future visions can’t provide. It’s not a gift that a three-day wolf should have, since we’re the lowest of the low in the supernatural world. I can’t even control my own change, which was why Will was with me.

  In all honesty, though, the hindsight part doesn’t annoy him nearly as much as the fact that I even work for Wolven, the shape-shifter law enforcement agency. Will Kerchee is a state cop in Texas, and despite the fact that I’m slightly reformed, I’m still an accused gangster from the Midwest who would be pretty easily convicted if put in court. The new identity as J. Anthony Giambrocco doesn’t negate the fact that Tony Giodone—while presumed dead—still has an arrest warrant on the books in two states, and is guilty of a lot of things that would make a jury pale. So it bugs him that we’re partnered. He’d much rather be slapping cuffs on me. I don’t have to do much more than watch his fingers twitch to where his sidearm would be in uniform to know that. At first, I couldn’t resist making sudden movements at the edge of his peripheral vision just to watch him react . . . and a bird’s peripheral goes back nearly to his spine. But then came the moon, when we were all supposed to be out of here a week ago, and now he’s expending energy to keep me from turning. I’m being nice, but it’s not really in my nature. That’s more Sue’s nature—my wife. We’re bonded with more of that Sazi magic. She’s in my head right now, tethered to me just like I am to Will. But she doesn’t really like watching when I go on jobs, so I keep the door between us locked off. I’m getting better at that. At first, I couldn’t control her involvement at all and killing people really trips her trigger. Like Kerchee, she’d much rather save a person than off ’em.