Elemental Covenant Bundle

Follow Carwyn and Brigid around the world as they join old friends and make new ones in this series by USA Today and international bestseller, Elizabeth Hunter. And if Carwyn gets attacked trying to pet bear cubs, that's his own eternal life he's risking.

Prologue

María Guadalupe Martínez Estrada stared up at the painting of Christ with children climbing up his knees and playing with the ends of his robes. She glanced at the sputtering flames of the prayer candles beneath the painting and wondered what each candle represented.

A sick child? An unexpected pregnancy? An angry parent?

It was Lupe’s favorite place to wait in Saint Peter’s church when she was killing time before youth-group duties. Most of the time, this chapel was empty and she could check her phone or read a book in peace.

Tonight her phone battery was dangerously low, so she stared at the painting. There were children of every color and various ages. Some had fine clothes, but most had shirts that were worn or scuffed on the edges.

A plaque at the bottom of the painting bore the words “Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them. For the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these.”

It was a nice idea. A good goal, Lupe thought. It wasn’t reality. In the middle of Los Angeles—the “city of angels”—it was more an ironic joke than anything else.

She was waiting by the painting while Father Anthony told the new kids what they’d be doing that night and what they might expect at the rescue mission. Saint Peter’s youth group helped out serving meals and cleaning rooms one night a week for the family quarters at the mission while some of the older kids like Lupe set up the warming center when temperatures dropped and then went out in “street teams” to talk to families that might need help.

Focus on the kids, Father Anthony always said. We can’t help everyone every night, so we focus on the most vulnerable. Get those kids indoors.

People thought it didn’t get cold in LA. That was bullshit. It was January, and they’d had nearly a week of almost freezing temperatures. That might not seem like much for someone from a place that snowed, but when you lived on the street, the cold was enough to keep you miserable at night, especially if you were a little kid.

“Hey, Lupe.”

She turned to see Joshua Gomez enter the chapel.

“Hey.” She looked back to the painting, her eyes fixed on the lit candles. Josh would want to talk. He always wanted to talk. Mostly about himself. Maybe she could convince him she was praying.

“Did you see how many freshmen came tonight?” He sat next to her. “I guess my talk last Sunday must have motivated them, huh?”

So no luck on the praying thing. “Yeah, probably.” More likely it had to do with report cards coming out and college-bound kids realizing they needed volunteer hours if they wanted to be eligible for the good scholarships, but she didn’t mention that. She glanced back and saw a middle-aged priest leading a group of younger teens from the youth-group meeting room. “Looks like we’re ready to go.”

“Good.” Josh stood when Lupe did. “So… you want to be on the street team with me tonight?”

Lupe glanced toward the meeting room. Teaming up with Josh wasn’t exactly in her plan, but she didn’t know how to turn him down without him getting suspicious. “Um… Yeah, I guess. I might have to stick close to the mission though. I kinda had that thing last week with the guy from Streets Alive, remember?”

Josh shrugged. “That dude? He won’t bother you if you’re with me.”

“Uh-huh.” Lupe hooked her backpack over her shoulder and headed toward the foyer of the church.

That’s what I’m afraid of.

-------------------------------------

Lupe stuffed her hands in the pockets of her thickest jacket, keeping her bright blue rescue-mission shirt visible as she walked through the park with Josh and Mika Walker, one of the other senior girls. Mika and Josh were debating the merits of dorm life at UCLA and USC, which was where Mika wanted to attend.

And Lupe? Well, college was a little more complicated for her.

She kept her eyes out for any small faces peeking from tents or the backs of cars parked in the scattered parking spaces. The mission had beds open tonight in the family wing.

“…don’t you think, Lupe?”

She snapped to attention at the sound of her name, turning to Mika and Josh. “Huh?”

“I was saying that talking about which college dorms are nicer seems a little tone-deaf when we’re trying to help homeless families.” Mika kept her voice low and glanced at Josh. “Don’t you think?”

“Yeah. I mean…” Lupe kept hearing Daniel’s snide remarks in the back of her head.

Privileged rich kids with a hero complex.

Do-gooders without a clue.

Blue-shirts looking for social justice points.

“I think we should focus on seeing if there are any kids our age,” she said. “I’m not seeing anyone that looks like they’re with a family. I haven’t seen any littles, have you?”

“No.” Mika smiled a little. “Which is good. I’m with you. Let’s see if we can find anyone a little older.”

Kids their age were probably the trickiest to deal with and often the most resistant to help. Any kid under eighteen knew they could go back into the system, which was how many of them had wound up on the streets in the first place. So most kids they talked to—even those obviously younger—said they were eighteen.

And technically, kids over eighteen needed to go to the single men or single women’s housing, which wasn’t where the kids from Saint Peter’s worked. And it wasn’t where a vulnerable teen should be either.

“Come on,” Lupe said, tugging Josh’s sleeve. “We can ask Tonya if she’s seen anyone new.”

Tonya was one of the activists in charge of Streets Alive, the homeless advocacy group that regularly worked downtown. They had a big converted van that drove around to all the encampments and were connected with all the city services and charities. Tonya was an older woman, and she had a soft spot for teen girls, often defying the people from Social Services who tried to find out their identities and ages.

“If the system had been safe, they wouldn’t have left.”

That’s what Tonya usually said about her girls, and it had stuck with Lupe. She knew, better than her friends did, that just because something was legal, it wasn’t necessarily right. And just because something was illegal, it wasn’t necessarily wrong.

Lupe spotted Daniel immediately when they walked around the public bathroom and saw Tonya set up in the front parking lot. She was standing in front, talking to a group of women, and had two teen girls with her handing out brown paper bags with sandwiches. Daniel was standing at the back of the van, talking and passing out bulky blankets wrapped in plastic.

Thick, dark hair fell to his shoulders, and his light brown complexion was tanned from spending most of his days outdoors. His mouth was set in a serious line that didn’t shift an inch when he caught sight of Lupe.

She glanced at him but looked away quickly. How old was he? He’d never said. Too old, her mother would say.

It didn’t matter; that wasn’t why she needed to talk to him. It wasn’t like that.

Keep telling yourself that.

Lupe knew she was flirting with a crush; she also knew Daniel would sneer at the word. And the idea. He wasn’t working on the streets to meet a naive girl from Huntington Park.

She hiked her backpack on her shoulder and hung back as Josh and Mika approached Tonya, who was setting up chairs and a portable fireplace where people could get warm. Lupe stayed at the edge of the gathering crowd and waited for his voice.

“I told you not to come with your little friends.”

She glanced over her shoulder, then quickly moved her eyes forward. “Father Anthony doesn’t let us wander around by ourselves at night. Groups of two or three only.”

“Am I gonna have to stage an argument with you again?”

Lupe huffed. She was kind of sick of Daniel’s cloak-and-dagger silliness. She didn’t understand why everything had to be so secret. “Just tell me what the plan is. My mom isn’t working tomorrow night, so I’m gonna have to—”

“It’s not tomorrow night, it’s tonight.”

She turned, not caring if anyone noticed them. “What? That wasn’t what we talked about.”

“Plans had to change. Deal with it.” Daniel couldn’t seem to meet her eyes. “I got the car and the money tonight. You think there’s time to hang out and wait?”

Lupe didn’t know what to say. “I need more time” seemed selfish. “I don’t have anything ready.”

Daniel stepped closer to her, and in a place that mostly smelled like urine and human sweat, he smelled clean, masculine, and safe. “You don’t have to have stuff ready, Lupe. You have to be ready.” His dark eyes met hers. “Are you?”

She glanced at Mika and Josh, then back to Daniel. “Okay, tell me what to do. Right now, while they’re talking to Tonya.”

Daniel leaned down and began to whisper in her ear.

By the time Mika and Josh turned around, Lupe Martínez was gone.

Chapter One
New York City, NY

One week later

Brigid Connor glanced to her right and saw the shadow of a mountain at her shoulder. “Are you sure we know what we’re doing here?”

The mountain looked down. “Do we ever?”

Brigid shrugged. “Fair point.”

“Just give us your stuff and you can go,” the scrawny human holding the gun said.

The two men at the end of the alley were very convinced that the two people in evening wear whom they’d taken for tourists were clueless and would hand over their wallets now that they’d been cornered by “menacing” humans. The men had heard the heavy accents, seen the two strangers looking at a map of downtown. An honest-to-goodness map! Who used a map these days?

Had to be stupid foreign tourists.

“This dress doesn’t have a single place to carry a gun,” Brigid said. “Can’t believe I didn’t think of that.”

“We’re going to a gallery opening.” The mountain, also known as her mate, Carwyn, spoke casually. “Admittedly, the New York art scene has been described as murderous, but who wouldn’t assume that was a metaphor?”

The men exchanged glances. The foreigners in the evening clothes didn’t seem worried.

“We said” —the stockier human stepped forward and raised his firearm— “hand over your stuff. Do that and nobody gets hurt.”

Brigid saw the dull black barrel the human pointed at her and cocked her head. “Oh hello, my pretty. Is that a Kimber nine millimeter? That’s a step up from the usual, isn’t it? Carwyn, look at this.”

Carwyn was starting to squirm in the dress clothes he’d been forced to don for the evening. “I’ve never had your penchant for firearms, darling girl. Can’t tell one from the other. Bang, bang, ow. That’s roughly the extent of my firearms acumen.”

“I’m just sayin’…” What was she thinking? They were wasting time. She pulled her gaze from the lovely pistol and looked at the man holding the gun on her. “Listen, before I give you my purse, can I grab my lighter from the pocket?” She laid her Irish accent on thick. “See, it was me own dear da’s, and he’s passed and it’s the last thing I have of his. It’s not dear or anything of the sort, but if you could just—”

“Fine!” The robber relented, no doubt just a little nervous that the extremely large man behind her didn’t seem anxious in the least and was inching closer as every moment passed.

Carwyn kicked at the asphalt. “Brigid, my love.”

“Yes, dear?” Brigid made a show of looking through her small purse.

“One thing I’ve noticed about these New York alleys? They really have a lot of potholes.”

“Is that so?” Her fingers closed around the lighter. “All the way down to the mud? Is that what yer saying?”

The second man was getting nervous. “Will you two shut up and hand over—”

“Found my lighter.” Brigid’s fingers closed around the cool metal.

“About time.”

At once, Brigid dropped her purse and flicked the lighter open as Carwyn fell to the ground, one arm shooting out to catch her handbag as the other hand pushed into the pothole where he’d been kicking asphalt.

Brigid braced herself for the quick jolt as Carwyn’s elemental power hit the earth beneath her feet. It threw both the humans holding guns off-balance. She hit the lighter and caught the flame in her hand, feeding it until she held twin balls of fire.

“Guns are less noticeable in this country” —she advanced on the two humans and smiled, letting her fangs drop— “but they’re not the only weapon I have.”

The two men started screaming. They threw their guns at Brigid, who tossed the amber-gold fireball in the air and caught the Kimber.

“Come to me, my pretty.” She cooed at the abused nine millimeter, letting the other gun clatter to the ground. “Carwyn?”

“One more.” He grunted and the ground rolled again.

The two men curled into themselves as Brigid flung the other fireball toward them, letting the flames spread and dissipate close enough to burn their eyebrows but not harm them any more than that.

Carwyn rose, one hand filthy with mud and grime, the other holding the sparkly purse she’d borrowed for the evening.

“There you go.” He glanced at the gun. “And look at that. Your new pistol might just fit.” “What a lad you are.”

Brigid rose on her toes and kissed him. “Smart move, marrying you.” She pointed her chin at the two humans. “What shall we do with these two?”

“We’re going to be late as it is, and I’ve got to find some place to clean up a bit.” He looked down. “It’s a good thing this suit is dark grey.”

“The sleeve is a bit tragic, but I doubt anyone will notice.” Brigid looked at the trembling balls of human at the end of the alley, then at the dumpster next to Carwyn. “Maybe just put them in the skip for a bit.”

Carwyn nodded, walked over, and picked up one curled human as if he were a duffel bag, tossing him in the dumpster before he added the other. He snarled at the two men, baring long, thick fangs that gleamed in the streetlights.

“If you want to live,” he growled in a menacing voice, “don’t even think about moving.”

Brigid smelled the distinct odor of fresh urine in the dumpster.

Good man. That should keep the two away from any other tourists until they could nab the attention of the Gardaí.

Check that, NYPD. They weren’t in Dublin anymore.

Brigid slid the compact nine millimeter into her purse. “Look at that. It does fit. Lovely. I’ll have to ask Chloe where she got this handbag.”

“You know…” Carwyn wrinkled his nose. “We smell like we’ve been playing in downtown Manhattan alleys.”

“Imagine that.” She nudged him toward the end of the alley that led to the street. “We’ll ask the driver to keep the windows down on the way there. Maybe they won’t notice.”