Undead: Immortal West, #1

By L.A. Boruff and Kerry Adrienne

Step through the Rift and into the wild and wicked world of the Immortal West.

Beautiful and cunning, Claire Lowell is determined to repay her uncle's kindness, no matter the cost. He faces financial ruin, and she refuses to stand by and simply watch, even if she is just a woman. Answering a wealthy merchant's newspaper ad for a mail-order bride could be the opportunity of a lifetime, and Claire won't waste it, no matter the risk, no matter her age. Just because she's forty doesn't mean she couldn't make a great wife for a western man.

Hidden just beyond the fertile plains, where two great rivers converge, a portal between worlds awaits. Enter the Rift at your own peril…

Claire sets out for Carson City in a wagon train, leaving her life, her uncle, and Boston behind. Civilization gives way to rolling hills, clear blue skies, and bumpy roads carved by wagon wheels. In the blink of an eye, Claire's difficult journey upends, and things are no longer beautiful and safe. The world she's now traveling through is not the same one she's always known—the shadowy land is filled with fantastical creatures born from whispered secrets and fairy tales.

Despite the turn in circumstance and with her ruggedly handsome vampire escort, who also happens to ride for the Pony Express, or whatever it's called in this alternate universe, Claire is determined to secure her future and fortune in Carson City. But the wicked king ruling this dark new realm with brute force and Fae magic wants Claire for himself, and his intentions are far more nefarious than any unwed human man's desires.

Claire doesn't care who wants her or why. She's going to bring this world to its knees, one nightmare creature at a time.

Salvation or Damnation? The fate of the Immortal West is in the hands of this clever city girl and her mysterious vampire escort, but will they be able to work together to stop the evil king before the world fractures entirely?

• Language: English
• Publisher: The Phantom Pen
• Release date: May 17, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223228769

L.A. Boruff

L.A. Boruff lives in East Tennessee with her husband, three children, and an ever growing number of cats. She loves reading, watching TV, and procrastinating by browsing Facebook. L.A.’s passions include vampires, food, and listening to heavy metal music. She once won a Harry Potter trivia contest based on the books, and lost one based on the movies. She has two bands on her bucket list that she still hasn’t seen: AC/DC and Alice Cooper. Feel free to send tickets.

Book preview

1

Claire

1861

---

The train car lurched, and I slammed against the edge of my seat, grabbing anything I could to avoid a very unladylike tumble onto the dirty floor. I bumped my arm on the iron seat rail and bit my lip to avoid crying out.

You all right, miss? The gentleman sitting across from me tried to hide his smile as he acted like he hadn’t seen me almost go shoulders over petticoats.

I nodded and brushed off my arm, and not meeting his gaze. I’m fine. I took a deep breath. Thank you.

I wasn’t fine, but I surely wasn’t going to tell him how much my arm hurt. Tomorrow, I’d have a new bruise to go with all the others I’d gotten on the train ride. First class, my eye. You’d think we were traveling along a dry creek bed on these metal wheels. Sure, the inside of the car was as pretty as a parlor, with polished wood and metal-punch gas lanterns, but the bumps and shudders of the train took away any illusion of being in a fine home.

As far as I could remember, my home had never tried to knock me down or rattle my brains out.

The man was still gawking, so I turned away and pretended to straighten my skirts, scooting back in my seat so I wasn’t likely to get dumped out of it by the rocking of the car. I was used to men trying to make a mash on me, and I could handle myself one way or another, but the trip had tired me out and I didn’t want to deal with a man with his britches in a knot. And I wasn’t going to give him any satisfaction of seeing me needing any help either.

Besides, I’d heard all the warnings about talking to strange men while traveling alone, and he’d been staring at me off and on since he boarded. Didn’t matter he was dressed in his Sunday best and looked like a proper gentleman—sometimes those men were the worst. I didn’t trust any of them.

The train chugged along the rails, smoother than a stagecoach ride, but still rough enough that my stomach churned with every jerk and jolt of the car. Sweet tobacco ripened the coal-smoked air and I sniffed, trying for a breath of fresh air. Not that I didn’t like the smell of tobacco—I did, but some things a woman had to give up when she was getting married.

Tobacco was one of those things.

I peeked to see where the smoke was coming from. The man who’d enjoyed seeing me tossed about the train like a sack of potatoes had a long, fat cigar in his teeth. Of course it was him. From the smell, it wasn’t a cheap tobacco roll, either. I’d certainly not ever had the opportunity for such a fancy smoke.

Final stop coming up soon, the conductor called. Illinois town.

His footsteps grew closer as he headed down the aisle from the back of the car, and when he passed by my seat, he paused and glanced at his gold pocket watch. Bout forty-five minutes till we pull in. He scanned the few passengers seated near me then tipped his cap and ducked under the door curtain into the next car.

Only a couple hours late, someone behind me mumbled.

I didn’t turn to see who spoke. Didn’t matter if the train wasn’t exactly on time. Not to me. My new life started at the end of this rail line, and two hours wouldn’t make a bit of difference.

I couldn’t wait to get to the station and stand on proper ground again. I was hungry and wanted to feel the steady earth under my feet. I leaned my face against the thick, cool window and watched the world slide by outside. Though the stove kept the car warm, someone had their window open to the chilled spring air, and I crossed my arms to stay warm. A blur of bright green grasses and blue sky filled my view out the window, like a painting. The land here was so different from Boston. The fresh garden rows on the small farms we passed were darker brown, not yellowish or orangish.

Springtime was the time for new crops, and I hoped it’d be so for me, even though by most standards, I was no longer a freshly planted daisy. Still, I had the advantage of looking much younger than my years, or so I was told. I could play the part for sure.

The conductor’s voice called out again somewhere forward in the train cars, partly muffled by the sounds of steam and gears forcing the iron horse forward, and the occasional squeal of the metal tires on metal tracks.

Everyone had to get off the train in Illinois Town and those traveling in the fancy car I was in were already gathering their things. Porters or butlers gathered valises and bags and many of the passengers would seek out the comforts of back East in the little town before heading out in stagecoaches or wagon trains to their final destinations somewhere out west.

I knew my journey was going to get more complicated than sitting on a moving train, but I had to do what I had to do, and I was ready for a change.

I slipped my gloves on and straightened the soft fabric around my wrists. I’d chosen a deep blue calico dress to wear on the trip since it wasn’t too heavy but still gave me the modesty and comfort I needed. Plus, it had pockets and was easy to wash. I had one silk dress packed in case I needed it, but if I was going to live in the west, I needed to dress like I belonged. I’d always preferred comfort and utility over frilly anyway.

Chicago Alton Railroad made the first leg of my western trip possible from northern Illinois to Illinois Town where I would catch a tug across the Mississippi to St. Louis to start the second leg of my long journey. I’d made the trip from Boston to Chicago a couple of times, so I wasn’t really counting that part of the trip as a journey into the unknown. I’d seen an engraving of the Mississippi River on a trip to Chicago and everyone said it rolled wide and deep in places. It marked a line for me—one that once I crossed, I couldn’t turn back.

This part of the trip certainly was new. I’d never seen such a fancy train car before.

My breath caught in my throat and my heartbeat pounded in my neck. I couldn’t help but be excited, although I still didn’t know if I was doing the right thing or completely ruining my life. Leaving Boston and heading to Chicago had felt like closing a door, and boarding a train headed west felt like I was finally forging my own future. A new future.

At least that’s what I told myself.

Before I’d boarded the train, I was sure I was making the right decision, and I’d still been confident when we’d stopped in Bloomington. Doubt hadn’t begun to creep in until the train pulled into Springfield.

An older woman had boarded the train there, her wavy gray hair cinched up in a poor semblance of a bun. Her eyes widened in fright as she came down the aisle, and she kept stealing glances behind her till she got to her seat and sat down. Maybe it was her first train trip. Or maybe she was nervous about being alone.

When a couple of young guns boarded the train and started teasing her with inappropriate comments and donkey laughter, I was again reminded of the dangers of a woman traveling alone.

As if I didn’t know already. My uncle had warned me daily for at least a fortnight before I left Boston. The danger was one of the reasons I was on the train and taking the crazy journey to begin with—so I’d never have to travel alone again.

I’d studied the woman’s demeanor and ducked my head as the young guns passed by. They laughed and continued into another train car, satisfied they’d given her a fright or gotten their thrill at making a woman quake. The older woman had huddled in her seat, her shoulders heaving with quiet crying and her delicate handkerchief pressed to her cheeks like a surrender flag.

I wished I could’ve consoled her but calling attention to the situation could easily cause a bigger problem. I’d smiled at her then, and she gave me a brief look of connection. We both knew that it didn’t matter if it was a train or city square, there would always be the men who thought women existed only for their amusement.

Heat crept into my cheeks, and I fumed as I thought about the incident. Men like the smoking man across the aisle really annoyed me. They took up more than their share of space in the world and they pushed women right out of it.

As if to punctuate my annoyance, the train whistle sounded. My car was near the back of the line of cars, being as it was a luxury-class seat, but the whistle was clear and mournful for all to hear.

We were almost at the end of the line. There were a few trains west of St. Louis, but they were short distance, and apparently the best place to get a wagon train was right outside St. Louis. I didn’t mind getting off the train a bit early.

I reached into the pocket of my dress and pressed a finger against the folded newspaper ad originally posted by Mr. Raymond Buchanan in the Boston Herald so many months ago. I’d hardly been able to believe it when I saw it, and if it hadn’t been printed in the paper, I still wouldn’t believe it.

A thousand dollars to any unwed woman who agreed to move to the Utah territory and marry. Up to fifteen hundred if the match turned out to be particularly auspicious.

A thousand dollars. That was… well, almost more money than I’d ever seen at one time, more than I could imagine. And at forty years old, this was probably my last chance to marry.

Not because I hadn’t been asked. I had.

Often.

To this point, I’d chosen to be alone instead of marrying one of the eastern men who weren’t so much men at all. Uncle Silas had pointed out their soft hands, pretty nails, and coiffed hair as an indication that they’d never done a day of labor in their lives. Most lived to drink, spending all their money on cards, women, and whiskey. Certainly not the type of men I’d ever been interested in.

My parents had been hard-working, and my dad had never turned away from taking care of whatever needed to be done to take care of his family. Though they’d died so long ago, their tenacity and work ethic still lived on in my mind, and I really couldn’t imagine being married to someone who wasn’t strong in values, intellect, and physicality.

I rubbed the edge of the ad, reassuring myself again that I was making the right choice. The only choice.

I didn’t want to marry a man who was too weak or lazy to plant a garden or help an injured horse or build a fence. I wasn’t impressed by those men in banking or other soft jobs either. Something about a man whose strength was both mental and physical appealed to me and the ones that could also discuss philosophy and science? I could swoon, and swooning wasn’t something I often did.

I hadn’t found the right combination in any man so far that made him marriage material—not even nearly so.

Would this newspaper ad be the turning point? Not just money I needed, but maybe even something I hadn’t realized existed in the real world? Not likely, I knew that, but I couldn’t help but twist a sliver of hope around a silver thread.

I pushed the errant strands of hair from my face and leaned toward the window. The monotonous landscape slipped by, gradually changing in color to something…deader. Clouds filled the bright blue sky, turning it into wan swirls of gray and deeper gray. A pall settled over the whole view like someone cast a net of ash over everything.

My silver thread of hope snapped and disappeared. Was the fading landscape a premonition of what my trip would be like? A chill slithered up my spine and I clenched my jaw.

I didn’t want to think so, but I was on a journey of foolishness, if Uncle Silas was to be believed. A journey of insanity. I really think he believed I had finally lost my mind.

Maybe he was right. I glanced back toward the other passengers. Of course, they couldn’t tell what I was thinking, but I suddenly felt like everyone was staring at me. Did they know why I was making the trip?

The train whistle sounded again, long and low.

Mr. Buchanan was promising a lot money for a wife. Up to fifteen hundred dollars for an auspicious match, and I had to figure out how to be that wife. And I would. It’s what I did best—I adapted. I didn’t need Uncle Silas’s permission, or anyone else’s. Not in this case.

Uncle Silas needed my help now, and he had done so much for me. I owed