Bayou Shadow Protector
Debbie Herbert
Native American legends and the fairy world combine in a bayou filled with danger, deception and deadly secrets . . .As a shadow hunter of ancient, evil spirits Chulah Rivers is used to strange creatures and happenings in the bayou. But when April Meadows appears out of nowhere to enlist the Native American's help in a battle that threatens the balance of the fae and human worlds, Chulah is plunged into a deadly battle–and confronted with an all-consuming desire for this mysterious stranger who knows far too much about his past . . . .
Native American legends and the fairy world combine in a bayou filled with danger, deception and deadly secrets...
As a shadow hunter of ancient, evil spirits, Chulah Rivers is used to strange creatures and happenings in the bayou. But when April Meadows appears out of nowhere to enlist the Native American’s help in a battle that threatens the balance of the Fae and human worlds, Chulah is plunged into a deadly battle—and confronted with an all-consuming desire for this mysterious stranger who knows far too much about his past...
“Bet you have a million secrets buried under that beautiful, innocent face.”
Beautiful. He thinks I’m beautiful. That was something April could grasp and hold on to while facing his disgust.
“I’m not considered particularly beautiful by the other Fae,” she said casually.
Chulah snorted. “Impossible. Harder to believe than the fact you aren’t human.”
“I’m half human. On my father’s side,” she said quickly. As if this might make her appear more acceptable and less foreign.
“Why didn’t you tell me the truth to start with? I’m a shadow hunter. I’ve fought supernatural beings most of my life. Hell, I have my own powers.”
“I’m well aware of your heightened senses. And your strength.” April’s eyes roved over his broad shoulders and chest, the lean, muscular biceps of his arms. Her throat went dry remembering how it felt to be wrapped in those solid arms and how much she’d desired his touch over the years.
DEBBIE HERBERT writes paranormal romance novels reflecting her belief that love, like magic, casts its own spell of enchantment. She’s always been fascinated by magic, romance and gothic stories. Married and living in Alabama, she roots for the Crimson Tide football team. Her oldest son, like many of her characters, has autism. Her youngest son is in the US Army. A past MAGGIE® Award finalist in both young-adult and paranormal romance, she’s a member of the Georgia Romance Writers of America.
Bayou Shadow Protector
Debbie Herbert
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Dear Reader (#ulink_26b29993-d7a3-547f-b25e-8149e6cb7b4b),
The Bayou Magic series continues with Bayou Shadow Protector. You met Chulah in the first book of the series, Bayou Shadow Hunter, and this second book is his story.
The mystery and romance of the Alabama bayou continues as Chulah meets a mysterious woman new to Bayou La Siryna. Strange thing is, she knows everything about him—right down to events and thoughts he’s never shared with anyone.
I hope you enjoy reading this book as much as I enjoyed writing it!
All best,
Debbie
Contents
Cover (#u3a0bd1ae-772e-5b65-bf01-6778f0728e9d)
Back Cover Text (#u3087aa60-7e67-57df-8ff6-f255b76424fe)
Introduction (#u4d6c840a-5bf0-5621-b6ed-3741eddf8e2a)
About the Author (#u4a337842-b00e-5a77-8fbf-0468d024e11b)
Title Page (#u933a11ae-c27f-5b0a-861a-770d7fb1bb14)
Dear Reader (#u8dd8f3de-b928-58a7-b044-9649f0061181)
Chapter 1 (#u25f82e23-7f6f-5440-8bca-dc8b534304f3)
Chapter 2 (#u6ad89fb3-634d-5c84-a77b-fe2166f2ab60)
Chapter 3 (#ufa011215-81fb-5e5b-9910-ede3c2870865)
Chapter 4 (#ua1952a40-75f5-59c7-ab5d-1837bbf6c818)
Chapter 5 (#ubabd5f0c-07b8-5645-92a0-166cf80f0a93)
Chapter 6 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 7 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 8 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 9 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 10 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 11 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 12 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 13 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 14 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 15 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 16 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 17 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 18 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 19 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 20 (#litres_trial_promo)
Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 1 (#ulink_f7280313-4f03-5110-8c25-b42a64fce941)
He came in second place to a dead lover. If that wasn’t just so typical of his life.
Tallulah placed a hand on his arm. “I’m sorry. Really.”
Anger pounded his temples. He didn’t want her pity. Chulah shrugged her hand away and took a step back. “Forget about it,” he answered curtly, knowing his resentment was ridiculous, but unable to control the emotion.
“I had no idea you felt that way about me,” she continued.
Tallulah actually looked surprised. Like he and every other warrior should know that she still thought about Bo, lived for Bo, even when he’d been dead for over a year. Crazy women. He’d never understand them.
“No problem,” he lied. He didn’t want to hear any more of the words that killed his dreams. Chulah took a deep breath and started for the woods, aware of Tallulah’s eyes following him as he made for the tree line. His heightened senses from hunting evil bayou spirits allowed him to feel her focused energy on his rigid back.
I love you as a brother, she’d said. As much as I do any of my fellow shadow hunters.
Right.
He should have known better than to reveal his feelings, should have stuck to his code of displaying no vulnerability. Chulah kept his back straight. Eyes ahead. No need for her to realize that the blow had hurt his pride as much as his heart. He was a warrior, damn it. Well, mainly he stuck to the code—with the mistaken exception of this afternoon. But the way she’d stood in the sea breeze—black hair teased by the wind, shirt pressed against her strong, lean form, the leather fringed necklace disappearing into the cleavage of her breasts—he’d lost all reason. She was the epitome of a warrior hunter, the only female hunter in their tight clan. A perfect match. Or so he’d imagined. He’d dared to hope that she must know and return some of his desire.
Wrong.
He’d let his protective barriers down, told her of his secret feelings. Stupid. He deserved the I-Just-Wanna-Be-Friends brush-off.
Marching away, he was so latched on to the eyes-straight-ahead approach and shoulders-back posture that his left foot tangled on something and he stumbled.
His pride took a dive along with his feet and he dared not look back. The old Tallulah would have laughed and teased him; now she must see him as a bumbling idiot or, worse, as a man to be pitied.
Chulah regained his balance and plunged into the woods’ underbrush, heedless of the nettles and brambles that tore at his jeans, not caring to follow the easy path. Instead, he strode forward, straight at the black trunks of massive trees, solid, unmoving and forbidding. As unyielding as Tallulah’s words. Words that pierced like poisoned darts. He struck savagely at the parasitic kudzu vines that hung between the trees and underbrush, making his way deeper into the shadows.
Tallulah, even with her heightened hunter senses, couldn’t see him now.
He wished he could turn all his senses off. His heart, too. Just off.
His breath grew ragged; his long legs shook with exhaustion. Chulah abruptly stopped and inhaled deeply. The green lushness of pine and moss soothed his battered spirit, even more than the peace his job of repairing motorcycles provided. Fixing motors, his mind and hands were in sync and focused on correcting problems.
In the bayou forest, his trekking abilities kicked in, providing a welcome diversion.
The scent of salt drifted from the Gulf on early autumn breezes and mixed with invigorating pine. His supernatural hearing picked up the lap of the tide, the rustle of leaves, a scampering squirrel and a cawing of crows. Chulah opened his mind to it all, relaxing the barrier he put in place to avoid sensory overload. The forest bathed his battered heart as he drew in the ancient wisdom and energy of the trees, calming his mind.
Chulah worked his way to the path and sat on a large tree stump, resting his tired legs. So he’d finally taken a chance and she’d turned him down, with a swift directness that typified all her actions.
And while he was being honest...he was more relieved than disappointed, now that the initial embarrassment had passed. Tallulah had been, perhaps, a little too convenient. They’d grown up together, had shared similar gifts and had fought alongside each other. Their families were close. She’d been his secret crush in high school, and with Bo gone, it was only natural he’d drifted to her familiar, comfortable presence.
Now that he’d spilled his guts and she’d rejected him, he could move on.
That was the plan, anyway.
For the past few weeks, he’d grown increasingly restless...bored, even. The last great battle was over, and with it Chulah seemed to have lost his purpose. He spent his days repairing motorcycles, and at night took his Harley out for long, solitary rides. He’d grown lonely.
The future stretched before him...the same old, same old.
A sizzle of energy traveled up his spine. Chulah glanced at the empty woods, wondering where the presence hid. He’d experienced it many times before and yet it had always eluded him. He tried to puzzle it out. It was nothing evil like he would sense with the Ishkitini, birds of the night, or with the few stray will-o’-the-wisps that still eluded the hunters.
This energy was...soothing. And familiar. He often picked up on it alone in the woods and a few times when he had hunted down a wisp and was in danger.
“Who are you?” he asked, searching the shadows. More to the point, “What are you?”
No answer.
Whatever that presence was, its silence was getting damned annoying. He stood abruptly and strode for home. “Fine. Don’t answer,” he said with a shrug, feeling more than a little foolish. Today was a day for acting like a bumbling idiot.
“What I need is a long bike ride,” he muttered. Nothing but the roar of his Harley and the land rushing to meet him as he sped down the bayou back roads.
To hell with Tallulah and to hell with trying to communicate with some mysterious spirit that wished to remain unknown.
* * *
Now was her chance.
April skittered ahead of Chulah, riding the stiff breeze that blew toward his cabin. Excitement electrified her so much that she worried her Fae form would light up like a luminary beacon. And that wouldn’t do at all. She’d promised the fairy queen to warn the shadow hunters of danger and enlist them to fight the dark shadow spirit, Hoklonote. The hitch? She was to accomplish this mission while at the same time providing as little information as possible about their hidden existence. Revealing too many secrets would be a last-ditch effort. A necessary evil to safeguard their world as well as the humans’ world.
Plus, she had her own reasons for not revealing too much too soon. And it had everything to do with Chulah Rivers. For eleven years she had silently watched him, invisibly aided him as he fought the bayou’s dark shadow spirits. All in an attempt to atone for her Great Mistake. Not that she could ever win absolution, but it helped ease her guilty conscience.
After eleven years, it had grown to more than an attempt to pay for her youthful mistake. At first, his handsome form and bravery garnered her admiration, but his stoic kindness—which often went unnoticed and unappreciated by others—was what most enchanted April.
And today, finally, she’d been given the opportunity to meet him again as a real, flesh-and-blood woman. She’d changed her appearance, yet still worried he’d see through the ruse. She must be very, very careful not to slip up. Chulah could never know what she’d done. He’d hate her, and she couldn’t bear that.
April darted behind a huge oak tree in case any human eyes might be around. She bundled her Fae essence until the staurolite crystal, the fairies’ cross stone, was positioned at the center of her being.
“Out of the mist I arise,” she whispered. “In human form alive. Skin and bone and heart and brain, I now transform to a different plane.”
For the second time today, that strange sensation passed through her ethereal body. Transformations that she hadn’t experienced since the disaster over a decade ago. Not painful, but a stretching and a heaviness and a gravitational pull to the earth. Wind rustled her hair and teased the skin of her arms, and the texture of cotton brushed against her legs.
It was done.
April ran her fingers through her hair and glanced down at the long flowered skirt, and then to the white sandals housing human feet. She wiggled her toes experimentally and giggled. This was going to be fun. Unlike last time. This time she would do everything right and enjoy every tiny human sensation.
An engine revved across the street and she peeked from behind the wide tree.
Chulah gunned the motor and strapped on a helmet. April startled at the loud beating of her human heart encaged by ribs. It seemed too volatile an organ to pump blood so furiously for an entire human life span, not if it kept up this constant beat.
Clouds of dust streaked behind the motorcycle as he exited the dirt driveway. He had to pass by her to get to the county road.
This was it. With a deep breath, April stepped from behind the tree and stood by the side of the road, waving her arms.
He didn’t slow, but sped right by her, and she choked on the fumes and dust. Not how she’d imagined this momentous occasion. She’d been so positive he wouldn’t pass by a damsel in distress.
And then she heard the sound of brakes squealing, loud as a dozen screeching owls. The motorcycle stopped a few yards ahead. Chulah lifted off his helmet and swung one leg over the bike until he stood in the street, facing her.
Hot cinnamon eyes raked her from head to toe. April gulped, her throat suddenly dry. Did she look weird? Was something off in her manifestation? The Fae court had explained that her appearance and clothing would reflect her individual nature, yet be acceptable and appropriate for the human world. And nothing like her last earthly appearance.
So why was he staring at her so intently? The Council had assured her that this current manifestation was unrecognizable from her unapproved earthly sojourn at age sixteen. If he remembered their first meeting, her mission was over before it started.
Shaking off the apprehension, she walked forward and extended her hand. “Hi. My name’s April. Thanks for stopping.”
His gaze shifted to her outreached hand, but he made no move to extend a return greeting. April dropped her hand by her side and cleared her throat. “Would you mind giving me a lift to town?”
“What the hell is a woman doing alone out here?” he asked incredulously.
“I, um, went for a walk in the woods and got lost.”
“Got lost,” he repeated, brows drawn together. “Where do you live?”
“I have an apartment above my shop on Main Street. Maybe you’ve heard of it? It’s called Pixie Land.”
He shook his head, as if in a daze.
“I’m not surprised. We just opened last week.” The Fae had been hard at work setting up that shop and all her living arrangements. She stuck out a hand again. “My name’s April Meadows.”
“April, huh?” he asked, eyes narrowed and assessing.
A surge of warmth flowed through her body when he said her name. The name she’d made up by taking the time of year she loved best and combining it with her favorite place. Perhaps he needed proof that she was who she said she was. She remembered the forged paperwork and patted the slender purse across her shoulder. Good. Everything should be in order. She opened the purse and riffled through it. “Here,” she said triumphantly. “Want to look at my driver’s license? Well, it’s not really a driver’s license. I don’t drive. Occasional migraines prevent that. They just come out of nowhere and incapacitate me.”
His expression of pained incredulity hadn’t changed.
“Anyway, it’s a picture identification card if you want to see it.”
“I don’t want to see your ID.”
“Oh, okay, then.” April dropped it back in her purse. “About that ride?”
“Don’t you know how dangerous it is to walk alone in the woods—especially in the late afternoon? It’ll be dark in an hour or so. What if I hadn’t come along?”
“But you did.” As she knew he would.
Chulah crossed his arms. “I could be a psychopath, for all you know. A serial killer who preys on young, lost women.”
April laughed. “You could never be like that.”
“And how would you know?”
She tapped her sandals on the red clay dirt. Thinking. “I can just tell. You’re a nice man.”
“Uh-huh,” he grunted. “I bet Ted Bundy’s victims thought he was nice when they first met.”
She blinked. “Ted Bundy?”
“Seriously? He’s probably the most notorious serial killer ever.” Chulah shook his head. “You must have been living in a dark hole all your life.”
A fairy mound instead of a dark hole, but he was close. April nodded at once, eager to correct her mistake. “Oh, yes, now I remember. Ted. Of course.”
Chulah gave her a hard, calculating kind of stare, as if debating the wisdom of letting her hop on his bike.
An idea struck. “Are you afraid I might be a killer?”
She should have thought of that before. Quickly, she raised her arms, familiar with police procedures after the fairy council’s crash course on human behavior and customs. They’d spent an entire day on what to do should one become embroiled in the legal system or a person suspected of a crime. “You can pat me down if you want to check for weapons.”
Chulah snorted or laughed; April wasn’t exactly sure which. The sound was rusty, as if infrequently employed, and his lips twitched.
She walked closer, arms still raised, until their bodies were in arm’s length of each other. “Really. It’s okay to search. I’m completely unarmed.”
Not entirely true. She had an inner, secret weapon of casting fairy enchantments, but she’d resolved to employ it only in emergencies. April winced, recalling her disastrous attempt at enchanting Chulah all those years ago. Quickly, she thrust aside thoughts of the past. It was a new day, and she had to focus on the matter at hand.
Enchantments. Chulah had no way of detecting such magic from a pat-down. She frowned, remembering the fairy’s cross crystal in the purse. Would he count a stone as a primitive weapon?
He gave an exaggerated sigh and strode back to his bike.
April’s mouth dropped open. She’d been so sure he’d give her a ride. “Are you leaving me?”
He unbuckled a side bag from the bike and pulled out a spare helmet. “For crying out loud, just wear this and hop on. I don’t know how you’re going to manage in that skirt, though.”
Not the most gracious invitation, but it would have to do. April eyed the helmet with distaste. How could anyone stand to have their head wrapped in such a tight bubble? “Do I have to wear it?”
“Nobody rides this bike without a helmet. It’s the law. Besides, only an idiot would ride without one.”
There went her fantasy of the wind blowing his long black hair in her face, covering her like a blanketing caress. And actually, she’d seen him riding around his yard without a helmet, but it might not be prudent to mention that fact. A female member of the Council had taken her aside and explained about the male ego thing. Which was much the same in the fairy realm, so point taken.
She didn’t want Chulah to think she was an idiot, so she stuffed the torture device on her head.
It was stifling. Her hot breath steamed the windshield thingy. Chulah lifted the helmet’s flap and she sucked air.
“I’m ready,” she announced bravely. She was used to flying, the wind fanning her face and hair, free and wild. Had dreamed of a motorcycle ride as a new kind of flying, human style.
His hands were suddenly at her throat and she gasped, taking an involuntary step back.
“Relax. I’m just tightening the straps.”
“Oh.” She glanced down, mesmerized by the sight of his olive-skinned fingers so close to her pale neck. Fantasies that had nothing to do with motorcycle riding filled her mind, and she shut her eyes. His hands were warm and competent, and a little shiver of pleasure rippled through her as they accidentally brushed against the vulnerable hollow of her throat.
“There. You’re good.”
Did she imagine his voice had a huskier edge, an undertone of desire? Her eyes flew to his face, but his back already faced her as he straddled the bike, putting on his own helmet. Chulah motioned with his hands. “Let’s go.”
Now she would get to wrap her arms around his waist. April almost licked her lips. She walked to the bike, assessing it, before lifting her skirt and swinging a leg over the side. The skirt rode up to her butt, but she should be fine. She’d often observed human women exposing much more skin at the beach.
The motorcycle lurched forward, and she wrapped her arms around his trim waist. Damned helmet prevented laying her face between Chulah’s broad shoulders. She itched to explore the muscles that she’d seen many a time as he worked outside in his yard. Soon, April promised herself. Very soon.
The roaring of the engine pounded in her ears, and she acclimated to the jerk and shudder of tires hitting small potholes. April liked the ride very much. What it lacked in fairy finesse, it made up for in raw power. No wonder Chulah rode so much when he was troubled. On his Harley, he harnessed that power and focused his attention on the open road.
Pine trees and dirt roads gave way to buildings and pavement. Unease prickled down her spine. She much preferred the woods, but had made periodic, invisible trips to downtown Bayou La Siryna in preparation for this mission.
A mermaid statue came into view and she breathed a sigh of relief at the familiar landmark. “Turn left at the next light,” she yelled to Chulah.
He nodded in acknowledgment, and as they turned onto Main Street, she counted the buildings to her left. One, two three, four... “Stop here,” she directed.
Chulah expertly swerved into a parking space and shut off the engine. April sat, waiting for him to get off first.
He lifted his helmet, and the hair that had been secured inside it fell loose. A veil of soap-scented warmth enveloped April’s neck and shoulders. She again cursed the helmet as it blocked her face from experiencing the same intimate contact. Fumbling with the straps, she took off her own helmet and shook her hair free.
Chulah glanced over his shoulder. “Get off,” he commanded.
April hastily complied, throwing one bare leg over the side to dismount. A loud whistle erupted across the street where three young men stared and pointed. Usually a sign of approval, if she remembered correctly.
She looked around, but no one else was close by. Were they whistling at her or Chulah? And for what reason?
Chulah scowled at them and they walked on by, laughing.
“Why were those guys whistling at you?” she asked. “Were they admiring your parking skills, perhaps?”
He arched a brow and studied her curiously. “They were whistling at you. Not me.”
“Why me?”
“I suspect it was the show of leg,” he remarked drily.
But she’d shown less skin than women in bathing suits. Did they constantly whistle while at the beach? Very confusing. The Council had advised covering confusion with diversion. April ran a hand through her hair. “So,” she said brightly. “Would you like to come inside for a drink?”
This was a human convention she was sure was appropriate. And her apartment was supposed to be well stocked in all manner of human food and drink.
“No.” He turned his back on her and headed for his bike.
“Wait,” she called out hurriedly. “Are you sure you don’t want a drink? It might be more comfortable to talk about your problem with me than riding your motorcycle all evening.”
He slowly turned and confronted her, his face a stone mask. “What makes you think I have a problem? You don’t even know me.”
Oh, but she did. Only Chulah couldn’t know that yet—if ever. That would happen only once he trusted and fell in love with her. Then she could share all her secrets. That was, if he could forgive her. A very big if.
“True, I don’t know you well,” she admitted, scrambling for an explanation. “I just thought you seemed, um, preoccupied and worried.”
His jaw clenched. “I’m fine.”
She’d inadvertently injured his pride to suggest otherwise. “All right, then.” She smiled and shrugged. “Since you’ve already played my knight in shining armor, maybe you could help me out again.”
“What do you want now?”
His response was not promising. How was she to build a relationship with him if he wouldn’t even have a drink with her? She couldn’t fail. To return to the Fae realm in defeat would be humiliating. She’d been so cocky, so sure that Chulah would help them stop Hoklonote.
And she’d been equally certain that he would return her warm feelings could he but meet her in human form. It was what she’d been dreaming of for so many years. That, and restoring the good name of her mother in the fairy realm.
Foolish, foolish Tallulah had rejected his heart. What April wouldn’t have given to be in Tallulah’s shoes. Hurt and jealousy lanced April inside, a new sensation. Sure, she’d known sadness and disappointment, but not this searing stab in the gut as she’d witnessed Chulah’s proposal. Her eyes watered.
“Are you crying?” Chulah asked, surprise written on his face. “Ah, damn...don’t do that.”
She stiffened. “I am not crying,” she said with all the dignity she could muster. “If I were, there would be tears running down my face. Which they are not.” It didn’t count if they were contained behind eyelids; she was pretty sure on that score.
“What the hell,” he muttered. “Let’s have a drink.”
“Really?” She brightened. “You won’t regret it. It’ll be fun.”
“Whatever.” He strapped his helmet on the handlebars and motioned for her to hand her own over. She did, and he tossed it in the side bag and buckled it up.
April opened her purse, searching for the store key. In the back room was a staircase leading to her upstairs apartment.
The Pixie Land door swung open and a short man with a red beard beamed at them. “Hey, boss, I’ve ’bout got all the inventory unpacked and ready to open for business in the morn.”
Steven, a fellow fairy helping in the mission, had caught her by surprise. She’d thought he’d have returned to the Fae realm by now. “Th-that’s great,” she said. “We’re going upstairs—”
“No, we’re going to a bar,” Chulah interrupted. He walked over to Steven and extended a hand. “Chulah Rivers.”
“Steven Andrews,” he smoothly replied, shaking hands. “Pleasure to meet ya.”
Chulah nodded and gestured down the street. “The bar’s only a block from here. We can walk.”
“Sure.”
“Excuse us a moment, will ya?” Steven said to Chulah. “Just need to check with the boss on a small matter.”
“Take your time.”
Chulah was better mannered around strangers than he was with her, April noted.
Steven pulled her into the shop doorway. “You might be needing this.” He pressed a roll of bills into her palm. “A little mad money in case your fellow doesn’t pay or you get stranded.”
“Good idea.” She stuffed the money in her purse. “See you later.”
Steven gave a broad wink. “Watched you out there. Excellent job using your feminine wiles on the man. None of us like to see a woman cry.”
“I wasn’t using my wiles,” she sputtered, glancing back at Chulah, who was busy studying the fairy figurines in the shop window.
He gave a maddening little chuckle. “Sure you weren’t.”
“Oh, for the queen’s sake—I’ll be back in a bit.”
“Take your time. Wrap him around your little finger.” The smile left his face. “Don’t be like your mother. Your loyalty is to our world. Not theirs.”
April shut the door in his blathering face, afraid Chulah might overhear and angry at the slur to her mother. She took a deep breath to steady her emotions. “I’m ready.” She smiled. “What’s the name of this place?”
“Bayou Brandy & Spirits. A friend of mine owns it.”
They fell into step, April bubbling with excitement. This officially counted as a date in her book. She’d been courted a few times by her own kind, but they acted as if they were doing her a great favor since her mother was so reviled. Besides, the attentions of the notoriously fickle male of her species held no real charm. In that respect, she was just like her mother. She wanted a forever kind of man.
A man like Chulah.
All she had to do was win his trust, persuade him to help their mutual cause, work with him to defeat Hoklonote, restore her family’s name, convince the queen and Council to let her remain in Bayou La Siryna—plus, win his undying love. All while protecting her secret offense against him years ago.
April wasn’t daunted a bit.
Chapter 2 (#ulink_e63a79b3-0bd7-5abb-ae17-6f14505e151e)
Even in the early whisper of evening, stepping into the bar was stepping into night and mystery and a winding-down from the day’s work and worries. A dark, velvet smokiness settled on Chulah like a balm.
All heads, mostly male, turned their way. And stayed turned. April’s unusual hair color practically glowed like quicksilver in the dim lighting.
They slipped into a booth and Chulah signaled Karlee over. She approached, eyeing April with a jaded once-over stare.
“Hey, sweetie. That’s some kind of dye job ya got there.” She lifted a thick strand of April’s hair and leaned in, squinting. “Blond and silver and lavender. Who’d have guessed that combo worked?” She smiled, not unkindly. “I like it.”
“Thanks.”
Women and their hair. Chulah stifled a sigh. “I’ll have a whiskey double. Neat.”
Karlee whistled. “Tough day, huh?”
He recalled the pity in Tallulah’s eyes as she said he was like a brother. “You could say that.”
“What about you, sweetie?” Karlee asked, turning to April.
“Water?” she said, uncertainly.
Karlee frowned. “That’s it? Just plain ole water?”
“What flavors do you have? I prefer floral nectar, but I like orange water, too.”
Karlee exchanged a what’s-her-deal look with him. Chulah shrugged. “Maybe she means orange juice?”
“Yes, that’s it,” April said in a rush, pink flushing her cheeks. “Orange juice.”
“How about I spike it with brandy?”
April drummed her fingers on the worn tabletop. “I guess. Sure.”
Interesting. She wasn’t afraid of roaming the woods alone, yet ordering a drink appeared to make her nervous. He needed to know more about this unusual woman. “Where are you from?” he asked. “You’re new here or we’d have crossed paths before now.”
“I used to live in Tillman’s Corner, about thirty miles east of here.”
“I know where it is. I have a cousin who grew up there. You know Drew Lattimore?”
She tilted her head to the side and pursed her lips, thinking. “No. The name isn’t familiar.”
Chulah studied her, a niggling unease prickling his skin. Something about her seemed familiar, but surely he’d remember such an unusual woman if they’d met before. “What brings you to Bayou La Siryna?”
“I’m opening a store. You saw it.”
The woman wasn’t very forthcoming. Most business owners he knew had a passionate entrepreneurial spirit. She mentioned her store as if it were as exciting as eating a piece of toast. “I know. But why here, why now?”
“Seemed like a good idea.” She squirmed in her seat. “What got you interested in repairing motorcycles?”
“How did you know that?”
She blinked. “You mentioned it.”
“No.”
Her lie didn’t sit well with him. He was a man of few words, so it was easy to remember them. And he hadn’t said a word about his bike shop.
Karlee returned, setting down their drinks. “Here ya go. Enjoy.”
Chulah swallowed a mouthful of stiff whiskey, watching April, trying to figure her out. The woman had a secret.
She took a tentative sip of her drink and licked her full lips, testing it. An unexpected volt of pure sexual desire speared his gut, more potent than the alcohol. She took another, longer sip and nodded her head. “It’s good. Strange, though, like a fire going down your throat to your belly.”
“About my repair shop—”
“—I want another one.” She downed the entire glass and gave him a lopsided grin.
“Whoa. Maybe you should slow down. Pace yourself.”
But she was already waving at Karlee and pointing to her empty glass.
Although a complete stranger, Chulah suspected this wasn’t her normal behavior. After all, she’d ordered water to start with. Unless she was a recovering alcoholic and he was responsible for tempting her beyond her control. The thought made his skin draw up tight. “Do you drink often?”
“First time.” She set her elbow on the table and put her chin in one palm, giggling.
It occurred to him that now would be a good time to press her a bit, discover what made her tick. “So what brings you to this town?” he asked again.
“I’m on a mission.” She wagged a finger in front of his face. “And when I make up my mind, I can’t be stopped.”
“What kind of mission?”
“To save the world.”
“From what?”
She stopped smiling. “Evil. There’s so much evil.”
Didn’t he know it. Had battled against it for years with his fellow shadow hunters. But, at least in this corner of the universe, the evil was now contained. They had stopped Nalusa Falaya, the supreme evil being, although a few wisps and other nefarious creatures still remained to be hunted. There would always be some around. Their Choctaw ancestors were testimony to that cold fact.
He leaned in close to April. She smelled like flowers and something...earthy, like moss or a freshly mown lawn. Her face was heart-shaped and her complexion a peachy pale color with dots of freckles sprinkled across her nose, and her full lips were rosy. Her eyes were an impossible purple-blue color. Contacts, perhaps? Altogether, she looked innocent and fresh.
But looks could be deceiving. “What would you know of evil?” he asked softly.
She matched his low tone. “It’s out there. Deep in the woods.” She raised a slender finger to her lips. “Shhh...it’s a secret.”
His entire body flushed hot, then chilled. Who was this mysterious woman who appeared out of nowhere and was no stranger to the danger in the woods? She’d deliberately sought him out and knew entirely too much about him.
“I can keep a secret.” He pushed the spiked OJ into her hands. “Does this evil have a name?”
April raised the glass to her lips and took a healthy slug. “Mustn’t tell.” She burped—a tiny effervescent bubble burst that was more charming than vulgar.
“Sure you can. You came to tell me something. Go ahead.”
Blue eyes widened and she shook her head. “You are so smart. And handsome. And kind. Tallulah must be the biggest fool in the world.”
He clasped her arm. “How could you possibly—”
“Hey, man, what’s up? Who’s your new friend?”
Leman Jones kept his gaze on April, even though his words were addressed to Chulah.
Irritation flashed through Chulah as he released April’s arm and made the introductions. His old friend had no right to leer at her like that, even if she was the prettiest woman in the place. He shifted his gaze past Leman’s shoulder and saw four other males approaching their table.
“You’ll have to excuse us—we were just leaving.” Chulah slapped a handful of bills on the table to cover the drinks, plus a hefty tip for Karlee.
“But I haven’t finished my drink,” April complained.
“You heard the lady.” Leman grinned at Chulah and turned to April. “If you want to stay and finish your drink, I’ll see you home.”
Chulah helped a wobbly April to her feet. “Thanks. We’re good here.”
“Can’t blame a guy for trying. She’s hot,” Leman whispered in his ear.
Chulah guided April past the sea of men with disappointed faces. Outside, the breeze was refreshing. “Doing all right there?” he asked.
She nodded. “A little dizzy, but okay.”
“Do two drinks always affect you so much?” he asked, trying to trap her in a lie.
She walked slowly, considering. “I don’t know. This is the first time I’ve had alcohol. I’m not sure it agrees with me.”
“I would say not.”
Hiccup. April covered her mouth with her hand. “’Scuse me.” Hiccup.
She momentarily seemed to rise a few inches on the sidewalk and then lower down. He blinked. Must have been some kind of optical illusion. Chulah inwardly sighed as he took her arm and slowly led her down the sidewalk toward her place. Seemed he was always rescuing women and children. He’d had a spectacularly crappy day and could use a little rescuing himself. At least April was an interesting diversion; he’d grant her that.
In fact, she was so diverting he’d almost forgotten to quiz her about her warning of evil. Chulah straightened his shoulders. He couldn’t have questioned her with a flock of men hanging around; much better to get her alone. Yeah, that was the only reason he’d scuttled her out of the bar so quickly. It had nothing to do with jealousy.
At the Pixie Land shop door, April fumbled with the keys. Before Chulah could offer assistance, Steven opened the door.
“What’s this?” he asked sharply, nostrils twitching. “You’ve been drinking?” He whisked April inside and frowned at Chulah.
“Only a little.” April’s demure response was ruined by a tiny hiccup.
Her face rose from his chin level to eye level. Just as quickly as before, she slipped down again.
Chulah shook his head to clear it. Last time he’d ever order a double dose of whiskey. He faced Steven and held up a hand. “I didn’t twist her arm. How was I supposed to know she’d never had alcohol before?”
Steven stuck his nose in the air. “Should have chaperoned the likes of you both.” He scowled at April. “I’ll fix you a strong herbal brew. Get you right in no time. Where’s your head at, missy?”
No need to be so gruff. Chulah stepped between them. “I’ll fix her a cup of coffee. Didn’t you say earlier you were about to quit work?”
His scowl deepened. “I’m not leaving until I see she’s good and sober.”
Chulah rubbed his chin. The man seemed entirely too proprietary to be a mere employee. Perhaps a brother? But their coloring and build and mannerisms were so different, that seemed unlikely.
He suppressed his irritation. He barely knew either of them. Yet it didn’t sit well to simply leave April in this condition with such an irritable man. “Go on and fix whatever it is you’re making. We’ll be upstairs.”
Steven opened his mouth as if to object.
“We’ll be fine,” April assured him, patting his shoulder before heading to the back.
Chulah followed, eyeing the myriad glass shelves lined with pastel-colored figurines. There were winged fairies, ballerinas in tutus, mermaids with glistening tails and other magical beings. “You have a sense of whimsy,” he noted.
“They are pretty, aren’t they?” She stopped and traced her fingers over one of the winged fairy statues. “What do you think of this one?”
The fairy sported silver-and-purple hair, alabaster skin, sort of like April. He examined it closer. There were even...yep, a few tiny freckles on the fairy’s nose. “Favors you.”
A mysterious smile blossomed on her lips. “I’d like you to have it.” She lifted it, and Chulah braced his hand under her unsteady ones, afraid she’d send the delicate figurine crashing to the floor.
Her skin was so soft, so delicate and pale above his calloused, dark hand. A sensual ache coursed through his body. He hadn’t felt this way in years about any woman besides Tallulah. He took the sculpture and returned it to the shelf. “We’ll talk about the figurine later. Let’s get you seated while we wait on Steven to bring your tea or whatever it is he’s brewing.”
Her full lower lip pouted a bit, which should have irritated him, but instead, he found it adorable.
They climbed a narrow set of stairs and entered her room. The tiny studio apartment was immaculate, but sparse and utilitarian, featuring a bed, a kitchenette, a leather sofa and two chairs with a coffee table between. None of the whimsical shop figures decorated the room. It had a masculine vibe without a trace of feminine softness. It didn’t fit her at all.
April plopped on the sofa and patted the spot next to her.
“Doesn’t look like you’ve had time to decorate yet,” he said, sitting beside her. “I would have thought you’d have a pink ruffled bedspread at least,” he teased.
She gazed about the room, as if seeing it for the first time. “It’ll do for now.” Her head rested on the back of the sofa and she reached out and placed a hand on his chest.
His heart thundered under her gentle touch. April’s mysterious, womanly smile returned, playing on her lips, desire darkening her indigo eyes. Passion crackled and flowed between his heart and her hand. A moment of tension, of inevitability, sparked the air. As if guided by a magnet, his hand reached up and touched the quicksilver hair that charged like velvet lightning between his fingers.
April was fire and ice. Pale coolness on the outside that burned like dry ice and winter’s frost upon contact.
But a good burn. A very good burn that left him craving more heat. Their lips found their own way to each other, his arms encircled her slim, lithe waist, and his exploring fingers raced up and down her spine.
And he was lost. Nothing existed but skin and heat and the fire of desire that glowed around their fevered bodies like an electrical corona.
Bam bam bam. It took his brain a moment to register that someone—presumably Steven—was pounding on the door. Chulah drew back from April, wondering if his face reflected the stunned surprise in her own. She licked her lips and he was almost a goner once again. Abruptly, Chulah left the couch and went to the door.
“About time.” Steven scowled and held up a steaming mug. “For April.”
An herbal scent wafted upward. “I’ll take it.” He tried to remove the mug from Steven’s hand but the little man held fast.
“Can I trust you—or are you the kind of man who would be taking advantage of an innocent woman’s compromised condition?”
Warmth flooded his cheeks. Had that been where he was heading with April? He’d never been overly impulsive before, had never let passion override his common sense. Hell, he barely knew the woman.
But that kiss.
That mind-blowing-body-lit-up kiss had completely possessed him.
“Who is it?” April called from the den.
Even the sound of her voice sent blood rushing to his loins. Perhaps some distance was in order. He needed to get away and think on all that had happened, unencumbered by lust. “I was just leaving.”
Before he could change his mind, Chulah brushed past Steven and scurried down the stairs, out of the glass menagerie of the shop and into the fresh air outside.
Time for that long motorcycle ride he’d started to take earlier, intending to banish the sting of Tallulah’s rejection. But the image of the dark-haired, fierce Tallulah had been replaced by that of a silver-blonde graced with gentle curves and soft lips.
Who knew way too damn much about him.
* * *
Note to self: never, ever drink alcohol again, April thought. Ever. She’d almost blown it tonight. April danced her fingertips over her lips. That kiss...
Steven waved a hand in front of her face. “How’s the tea workin’?”
“Like a charm.” The delightful, but dangerous, fuzzy feeling had faded, leaving her bemused.
“Good. Now we can talk. Did you tell him you were Fae?”
“No.” But she remembered telling him she was on a mission to save the world. She’d also slipped up mentioning Tallulah, something she should know nothing about. She’d think of an excuse for that later. For now, she wanted to relive every moment of their brief kiss.
“Perfect. It’s too early. Gradually weave a web of enchantment for a few days until he’s besotted with you and willing to do anything you ask.”
April sipped more tea. If he took her silence to mean agreement, that was all on him.
“The tea might have reversed the alcohol’s effects, but it’s clear that this Chulah has affected you much the same as strong drink. Physical contact with a human can be...most pleasant. Especially your first time.”
She didn’t want to have this conversation. “So I’ve been told.” Hiccup.
Her stomach rose to her throat and her body lifted and dropped back down on the sofa.
Steven let out a low whistle. “You just levitated. Must be some glitch in the Fae glamour.”
“Is that it? Whenever I drink liquid it makes me hiccup.”
“Then be sure not to partake around humans. And don’t forget you’re only here temporarily,” Steven warned. “Take a few days, enthrall the shadow hunter and then warn him of the danger. If we’re lucky, he and the other hunters can take care of Hoklonote on their own, without our assistance. If that doesn’t work, then petition Chulah to form a mutually beneficial alliance with us to defeat our common enemy.”
“I know my duty,” she snapped, setting down the mug. April paced the room. It galled her that her own kind cared so little for Chulah or any other human. She didn’t want Chulah fighting Hoklonote without help from the Fae. It wasn’t right to ask him to fight their battles for them. The Fae saw Chulah and the other shadow hunters only as a means to an end. Whereas she...she wanted Chulah to see the real April Meadows. To come to care for her as she did for him.
But Steven couldn’t know that. No one could. It was her own secret wish.
A fairy could dream.
Steven arched a brow. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” she lied. “Just restless. A little tired.”
“And starving, I bet. Have you eaten human food today?”
“No. I forgot.”
“I’ve made a pot of chili. Come downstairs and eat with me. You’ll feel lots better. While in human form, you need to consume what they call calories. It fuels your body, gives you energy.” He grinned. “Tastes surprisingly good, too.”
“If you say so. Let me wash up and I’ll be down in a minute.”
With a nod, he left. Finally, she was alone. April covered her face in her hands, felt Chulah’s lips and hands again on her body. She’d never experienced anything like that from the few Fae kisses she’d stolen from Fae lads while hidden among the lily pads or behind the wild azaleas.
Had it been the same for him? She hoped he found her as desirable as Tallulah. Guilt twisted her gut. When they’d been sitting close together on the sofa, she’d accidentally flung a little fairy pheromone his way.
Okay. So it wasn’t entirely accidental. She’d given Chulah the tiniest nudge for him to kiss her. But he’d wanted to, she could tell.
Never again, she vowed. It meant more if he kissed her without the influence of magic.
Curious as to how her human form appeared, April went to the bathroom and stared in the mirror. The Council had told her that this form would manifest her fairy nature, and she saw that truth in the mirror.
Dismay clouded her eyes. She looked nothing like his true love, Tallulah. The white of her skin was the pale of the white bearded iris she slept under. Her eyes were the bluish purple of the wild violets she nibbled on for nourishment, and her hair was moon-bathed in silver, as night was the time she loved to flit about. She slept during the day after a bath in the dew of the early morn. She was thin and lithe as the stalks of sea oats, and the pale purple streaks in her hair were the whisper of eggplant behind a cloud at sunset.
The Council had assured her the human form would be pleasing to the male human species. But April would have traded everything for Tallulah’s olive skin, black silky hair and muscular frame. She was like an Amazon warrior of old—the only female shadow hunter in the history of Bayou La Siryna.
No doubt the Council would laugh at her jealousy if they learned of it. “Use your enchantment,” they’d advise. “No man can resist your Fae charm while under your spell.” But April was determined to do this her own way—on her own terms.
She would succeed where her mother had failed.
Chapter 3 (#ulink_180d22e9-cf55-5378-a1ca-f0b964106fca)
Chulah removed his helmet and sat on his motorcycle, studying the tree line at the point where April had suddenly—mysteriously—appeared from the backwoods. It was possible that some trace, some clue could be tracked down. With luck, he’d follow the signs to the point of origin. At least it would reveal if April had lied about getting lost after a simple hike. One that she claimed to have begun near her apartment. Her story didn’t ring true, and even after riding for hours, there was something about her...something disturbing he couldn’t quite pinpoint. Compounding his unease was his lack of physical control at her apartment. It was as if she drew him to her magnetically, removing his normal reserve.
Chulah removed a flashlight from his saddlebag and stuffed it in his backpack, which he had weighted down with rocks. His eyes adjusted to the night’s dark veil, so he probably didn’t need the flashlight, but it never hurt to be prepared. The rocks were for any stray will-o’-the-wisps.
Strapping the backpack across his broad shoulders, he approached the woods. He’d first glimpsed April by the massive oak. The tree had a sharp bend in the trunk, courtesy of Hurricane Katrina years earlier.
The scent of violets and moss teased his nose, the same scent that April bore, one that niggled at his memory. Broken twigs and pine needles marked the ground and he followed the trail.
She’d stayed close to one of the many narrow footpaths that veined the forest and her direction had been true. Never once had she strayed down a different path, or circled back to the one that led to the road and his home. Interesting. You would think somebody new to the area, and supposedly lost, would have strayed at least once, taken a circuitous path or explored a way to exit the woods.
Deeper and deeper, Chulah journeyed to the dark, quiet interior of the bayou forest. Strange that April chose to walk a path so far removed from civilization. An uneasy prickle lifted the hairs on his arms. The scent of violets grew sharper and the trail abruptly ended at the base of an ancient cypress where a large patch of wild violets bloomed—totally out of season. They were spring flowers blossoming in the heart of autumn. Chulah turned from that mystery to another, more pressing question.
Where had April gone from here?
That same April who knew of the bayou’s secret, of its evil spirits, who knew things about him she had no logical way of knowing. Whose tracks stopped in the middle of the woods, in a spot that festered with some strange magick he’d never seen. Something was afoot, something he’d never encountered before in all his years of hunting shadows.
He didn’t believe in coincidence. This place and that woman were connected. Tomorrow he would visit April and demand an explanation. Had she kissed him to distract his attention from her loose tongue? If so, it wouldn’t happen again.
Eerie silence enveloped him like a wool blanket. That was what was different. Not what was there, but the absence of what should be there—no insect droning, no underbrush rattles from small animals, no hooting of owls or even the sound of the sea breeze in the treetops. Only silence.
Baffled, Chulah raised his arms, allowing his senses to become totally immersed in the night, seeking out any sign of hidden shadows that secreted the bayou. The sensing was passed down from his Choctaw ancestors, a special line of descendants gifted to detect the evil shadow world. The shadow creatures considered humans intruders and sought to either drive them out or control the ones who stayed.
His family had chosen to stay. And to fight.
They had lived in this south Alabama swampland for hundreds of years, as far back as anyone could remember. Surely they had been here since the beginning of time—same as the shadow beings who didn’t want to share the land. Not only that, they wanted to dominate every creature—human, animal and supernatural—that roamed the bayou.
Chulah sent a prayer to his ancestors for guidance. The silence continued, but Chulah’s feet directed him to a distance of about ten yards from the tree where April’s trail stopped. He looked down. On the side of his right foot, fallen leaves blew and rustled. On his left side, all was still and silent.
Odd.
He followed the divided, splintered land, walking a circle with the cypress tree at its center. Inside the circle, all was silent. Outside the circle, all was normal. Chulah rubbed his chin, puzzling out this new development. Was it possible there was some new manner of creature that he and his fellow hunters had never before witnessed?
Quietly, he withdrew two large rocks and held each in the palms of his hands, ready for attack. He again walked the circle’s perimeter, yet found but one set of April’s footprints where she had walked from the tree to the road.
It didn’t make sense. Something was off.
Chulah halted, allowing the darkness to completely mask him from moonlight, drawing layers of the night’s shadow to wrap around his body.
And waited.
His patience was as still as the live oaks that encircled and filled the forest, living sentinels that discouraged most humans from entering deep, and contained the shadows within. A boundary between civilization and the primitive, mysterious evil that had been present since the beginning of time.
As a shadow hunter, he lived in between the two worlds, not fully belonging to either. On full-moon nights, his soul ached to be in the bayou backwoods, a part of the shadows born to shelter mankind from the old spirits who meant them harm and who longed to escape the forest’s boundaries.
He continued his watch, attentive to every sound and smell and movement. A gray fox, his namesake, stopped its lonesome prowling and stared at him solemnly before padding away on silent paws. The wily creatures never failed to greet him on his solitary vigils. When he was born, his father had entered the woods and waited for a sign on what to name his son. A fox had wandered close and stared. His father named him Chulah, Choctaw for fox, to honor his son’s appointed animal guide.
An orange glow, the color of citrine lit from within, shone in the distance, a candle in the dark. It wasn’t the blue glow of a wisp with a green, throbbing heart at its center. It wasn’t swamp gas. And it wasn’t a flashlight beam of a fellow hunter. This was something altogether new, the likes of which he’d never observed in all his years of hunting.
It skittered closer, its glow elongated and emitting sparkling cascades of light. He sensed no mischief or ill intent, but then again, shadow beings often cloaked their evil with a display of beauty and purity.
The violet scent intensified and the patch of improbably late-blooming flowers opened their petals and multiplied their blooms. As the orange light drew closer, the violets hummed and shimmered with a fluorescent aura.
The orange luminescence glided to within twenty yards. The closer it came, the more details appeared. Over five feet in height with a thin columnar shape, extensions from the main body occasionally moved like limbs. Although the predominant color was orange, there were also pinks and purples and blues and greens.
Chulah squinted his eyes. Were those wings protruding from its back? Could this be some kind of giant, magical insect? Or some creature that feasted on the strange violets that now tinkled with the clean, pure notes of a bell?
Excitement and wonder stirred deep within Chulah. Still, his hands fisted over the rock he held in one hand and a dagger in another. Just in case this was some wisp mutation sent to trick. He knew better than anyone that the swamp held deep, dark secrets. He had lost two hours of his life here one day, two precious hours that had meant the difference between life and death for his father.
Just because something was beautiful didn’t mean it wasn’t deadly.
The creature stilled, as if realizing it was being observed. In a blink, the light extinguished. Darkness thickened and the flower blooms wilted and died, withdrawing their scent.
The dead flowers bothered him more than the strange creature. Nature’s time cycle had warped. How long had he been out here? Had he lost time again, perhaps more than a mere two hours? Chulah scrubbed his face. Tried to rub out the questions that left him disoriented and queasy.
Stumbling, he turned away and ran, clumsy with dread and déjà vu. Crazy, man. You’ve lost it again. Crazy, crazy, crazy. He longed for his cabin, longed to know that no time had mysteriously disappeared and that no one was hurt or dying.
It’s happening again, just like before.
No! If someone else died because of him... No, he wouldn’t think of it. His blood roared in his ears, combining with the sound of his own strangled breathing. A symphony of terror. It drowned all other noise, as if he were alone in his own private hell.
Thorns sliced at his legs and arms and he welcomed the pain that kept him grounded to the land and reality.
Chulah broke into the clearing near his cabin and ran faster. Just a little farther. Back to normalcy. Everything would be okay.
He hoped.
He took the porch steps two at a time and burst into the cabin, flicking on the light switch. All appeared as he left it. A newspaper lay on the kitchen table alongside his coffee cup. Hands trembling slightly, Chulah picked up the paper and checked the date.
Today’s date.
The terror subsided, but still hammered his heart. Quickly, he crossed the room and snatched his cell phone from the charger. Eleven thirty-seven p.m. He pursed his lips, considering. That sounded about right. He’d left about thirty or forty minutes ago. There were no emergency text messages. He checked voice mail... No, there were no messages or missed calls.
Excess adrenaline flushed out of his system in a whoosh. He sank onto the couch and put his head in his hands. Despite his relief, the old sorrow returned. Time had lessened the grief, but the guilt and sadness would be with him forever.
* * *
That was close.
April fluttered her wings nervously from the top branches of a sweet gum tree. Damn if she wasn’t as careless now as she’d been a decade ago. If he’d seen her in Fae form, she could have blown everything on day one. It was way too early in the game for him to accept that she was a fairy and that her intentions were honorable. First, she needed to establish some measure of trust before asking his help with Hoklonote. Ease into it as much as she could, given the limited time frame. If any of the other fairies had seen her stumbling about, drunk on human kisses, the Council might pull her from this mission.
Fearfully, she gazed around the area and breathed a sigh of relief. No Fae in sight to witness her idiocy.
Home free.
April touched her fingers to her lips, reliving Chulah’s kisses. It had been glorious. The best afternoon of her life. No wonder her mother had been so besotted with her human lover. The only surprise was that all the female fairies hadn’t defected from the Fae realm. Evidently, they didn’t realize what they were missing.
“What the hell were you doing out there?” a voice hissed not a yard from where she sat.
Shock slammed through her essence and she lost her balance, toppling from the tree. A couple of somersaults later, April righted herself and flew to the ground. Like a cat, she managed to land right side up, unharmed but unnerved.
A thud hit the ground a few yards away. Steven’s stony visage flickered into view for a microsecond. Not long enough for human eyes to detect, but plenty long enough for her to see his scolding frown.
“You’re supposed to keep me informed of your whereabouts,” he said sternly. “I go to check on you and what do I find? An empty bed.”
“I’m not used to sleeping in such a confined area,” April explained. “It’s stifling to be surrounded by four walls with only a small window to see the world outside. I had to get out for a little fly-about. Surely there’s no harm in that, is there?”
“Hoklonote might be lurking nearby. It’s a dangerous time to be alone in the woods.”
Chulah had said much the same thing this afternoon when she’d hitched a ride.
“I’m sorry. I promise to let you know next time.”
Steven tugged on his red beard. “I saw that Chulah almost caught you. You need to keep your wits about you. Our lives depend on that.”
“I’ve learned my lesson, and I’m prepared now. It won’t happen again.”
“See that it doesn’t.” He tried to keep his voice gruff, but she saw that the worst of the lecture was over.
“I won’t get you in trouble,” she assured him. As her temporary overseer while on the mission, Steven was as responsible for her mistakes as she was.
“Very well. Let’s get back to the apartment. Our human bodies need sleep to function properly.”
“I’m going to stay out a little longer.”
Steven frowned and she hastened to mollify him. “If it’s okay with you,” she added meekly. “I want to watch over Chulah as he returns home. He’s our best chance to get an in with the shadow hunters. We can’t afford to let him get hurt.”
He sighed. “You’re right. We’ll do it together.”
Exactly what she didn’t want. Even though she was invisible to Chulah, April enjoyed flying beside him, as if there was a shared intimacy between them alone in the woods. Steven would definitely be a third wheel.
“No, no, this won’t take long. And like you said, we need our sleep. I think my escapade tonight interrupted yours. Why don’t you go back to bed?”
He wavered, hands on hips. “I am tired,” he admitted.
“I’ll be back soon,” April said, flying up above him. “See you later?”
“Oh, all right. Just don’t do anything foolish.”
And she was off before Steven could change his mind. In the rush of the wind, she was behind Chulah. Close enough to almost reach out and touch his shoulder. It was agony and a familiar pleasure to be so close, and yet so far apart. Especially now that she knew the sweet excitement of his mouth and his hands.
In no time, Chulah entered his cottage and shut the door. Still, she was loath to leave him. Instead, she watched through the curtainless window as he settled on the couch and talked on the phone. Was he perhaps calling Tallulah? Inviting her to come over? Begging her to change her mind on his proposal?
Even after he’d hung up the phone, jealousy and curiosity wouldn’t let her leave. She’d sleep so much easier if she knew for certain that Tallulah wasn’t coming over. Chulah didn’t go straight to bed; instead, he opened a book and began to read.
Minutes later, car headlights turned in the driveway and pierced the dark. A man jumped out and ran to the door. Ah, yes, she recognized his friend Tombi Silver. A smile lit her lips. No reason to stay, other than she couldn’t bear to tear her eyes from the lit window and go back to her bare, lonely apartment.
And so she hovered, reluctant to leave.
Chapter 4 (#ulink_d230d4d1-8dd6-5918-a696-97b07cc8f354)
“What the hell? A new creature we’ve never seen?”
Chulah’s face warmed at his friend’s incredulous stare. “I swear it’s true. Saw it with my own eyes. It had wings and...” he stammered, reluctant to share his theory. But their survival depended on total honesty and trust. “If I had to give it a name, I’d say it was a fairy.”
Tombi paced the small cabin. “I believe you saw something out there. It’s just...fairies?” He stopped and stared out the window where shadows lengthened and the woods beckoned with their promise of magic and danger.
“We shouldn’t be so surprised,” Chulah said. “If there are will-o’-the-wisps, birds of the night, and spirits like Hoklonote and Nalusa Falaya, why not a whole host of other supernatural creatures?”
Tombi shook his head. “You’re sure this thing had actual wings?”
That glowed with the light and warmth of a thousand candles. Stunning. Disturbing. But Tombi didn’t need to know the effect this mystical creature had on his senses.
His friend pierced him with a hard stare. “Why did it come to you?”
He didn’t say it, but he didn’t need to. As leader of the shadow hunters, Tombi should have been the human contacted, not him. He was only second-in-command. Actually, he’d been only third-in-command until the traitorous Hanan died in the last great battle.
“I’m not sure why,” Chulah said with a shrug.
“Think there’s any correlation between your new girl and this vision in the woods? I mean, here’s this stranger in town who talks about the shadow spirits. No humans speak of such things. Even our own people regard them as old stories with no truth.”
Tombi voiced Chulah’s own inner speculations, but hearing it from another set off warning flares. And he hadn’t told Tombi that April even knew highly personal things about him, like Tallulah’s rejection. He sure as hell wasn’t going to bring up that fiasco to Tombi. Too embarrassing. “She’s not my anything. And we can’t be a hundred percent sure that she’s a...a fairy or whatever I saw out there tonight.”
“I want to meet this April tomorrow morning.”
“Yeah, you should meet. I’m sure she’ll be at her store.”
“I’ll take my wife along. Annie has amazing insight.”
“Good idea. And I’ll go with you,” he said quickly, not liking the idea of April being under an inquisition and ganged up on. Three against one was hardly fair. Annie was the epitome of kindness and gentleness, but Tombi could be intimidating and brusque. Chulah frowned, aware that he’d leaped at the chance to shield April. Her feelings should be of no importance in unraveling the mystery.
“Come if you like.” Tombi folded his arms and studied Chulah. “Let’s hunt. Could you conjure this Fae form to reappear?”
“Haven’t got a clue. But I can show you the tree where I saw it. Where sound and movement stop around the base of the trunk.”
He nodded. “Stay alert for signs of Hoklonote. Maybe we’ve grown a little complacent since capturing Nalusa.”
Chulah lifted his backpack off the kitchen table, where it was loaded with a slingshot and rocks. The familiar feel of the weapons shifting in the pack made him eager for action. “I’ve got an extra one if you need it,” he offered.
“My backpack’s in the car.”
“Let’s go, then.” Chulah wanted Tombi to witness what he had. Over the years since the lost-time episode, no one brought up the subject. Not to his face. Yet Chulah wondered if they secretly mistrusted his sanity. Other than an alcoholic, who the hell lost time? Only him.
“Wait. I want to talk a minute.” Tombi hesitated. “I spoke with Tallulah earlier.”
Damn. Chulah groaned inwardly. “I’d rather not talk about your sister,” he said stiffly, making a show of unzipping the backpack and checking his weapons.
“She’s worried about you.”
“Right. Tell her I’m fine,” he said, avoiding Tombi’s eyes.
“Are you really?”
“Yes. Okay? I don’t want to have this conversation.”
“Might do you good.”
Chulah didn’t bother with a reply.
Tombi sighed. “Then let me say one thing and we’ll never speak of this again.”
“If you must.”
His friend laid a hand on his shoulder. “The three of us have been friends all our lives and I don’t want that to end.”
“It won’t.” Chulah started for the door.
“Hey, buddy,” Tombi called from behind.
Chulah stopped but didn’t turn around.
“I would have loved it if Tallulah had returned your feelings and we became more like brothers. I’ve hoped for that ever since Bo’s death. But I guess you and my twin are too alike for a romantic relationship.”
Chulah slowly faced him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You’re both stubborn and possessive and set in having your own way.”
Chulah opened his mouth to object, then snapped it back shut. He remembered their childhood escapades. Even at that young age, all three of them had argued about taking the lead and how they would spend their day. Being a girl didn’t slow Tallulah down a bit. She was a wild tomboy, as fierce and brave and as aggressive as her brother and any of his friends. A real spitfire.
He had always admired that. She was so different from his stepmother and half sister, Brenda, who complained endlessly and depended on him to take care of everything.
“You’d be better off with someone not as much like you,” Tombi continued.
His friend never used to say such ridiculous crap. Marriage had softened Tombi. “If you’re through playing psychologist, I’ll be outside waiting for you to get your stuff.” Chulah stepped into the night and breathed deeply.
Maybe Tombi was right. Maybe he and Tallulah would have made a horrible couple, who would spend their lives constantly arguing. Maybe he’d be better off with a different sort of woman. A woman with a gentle, soft nature but an electric touch.
Chulah straightened his shoulders. Enough of such foolish thoughts.
* * *
It was like any other autumn night, and they’d hunted the same area hundreds of times. As a child, Chulah enjoyed this season more than any other—the slight chill in the air that annihilated the smothering swamp humidity. But even though winters and autumns were mild, at times the Gulf breeze whipped so fiercely that bits of sand peppered the flesh like BB-gun pellets. It wouldn’t kill or cause serious injury, but it hurt like hell.
“Don’t expect anything,” Chulah warned Tombi as they entered the woods. “I have a feeling I caught the thing by surprise earlier.”
Adrenaline coursed through his veins, more than the usual anticipatory hunting mode. He’d never hunted unknown creatures before. Would it appear?
Chulah led the way, sure of his direction. His eyes adjusted to the dark and his senses heightened. He felt the pulse of scrambling squirrels, the splash of fish, the buzz of skeeters, the retreating tide. Somewhere, someone far away had lit a campfire, and he inhaled the smoke of sweet gum and oak, an autumnal scent that brought back childhood memories of Halloween parties and hayrides. A more carefree time.
But as an adult, autumn often felt like the earth dying a little every day. Darkness encroaching on daylight, animals retreating to their dens, foliage dropping lifelessly from the trees. A season when green turned to taupe gray and the sun grew cold.
Unbidden, Chulah again remembered the startling charge of April’s touch. The pleasant burn of her lips on his. Now, there was light and warmth and all the fire a man needed to fight against the encroaching dark of winter.
They trudged through thickets of saw palmettos, alert for a change in smell or sight, subtle shifts of energy that foretold trouble.
Chulah surveyed the area, frowning. Where was that damn tree?
Tombi tapped his shoulder and lifted both palms upward. What’s going on?
Chulah shrugged and raised a hand, motioning Tombi to stay put. Slowly, he circled several trees, testing their life force. Nothing but the usual calm, steady wisdom emanated from their roots and the spreading limbs draped in Spanish moss.
He sighed in disgust and returned to Tombi’s side, shaking his head. The creature—fairy—had made a fool of him. Chulah was unsure of it reappearing, but he hadn’t anticipated trouble locating the tree.
Tombi leaned in and whispered in his ear. “Did you mark it?”
Damn. He shook his head. Now he appeared a double fool. Even a rookie hunter knew that things shifted out here, defied logic and science. What was before might never appear in the same manner again. A new twist in a path, a slight change in the water’s course or disappearing rock formations. As if the woods were a living organism with their own laws and ways, unwilling to divulge all their secrets to any one person or species.
Tombi motioned to a fallen log. A place to sit. And observe.
A strategy that didn’t often work, but had proved helpful a few times in the past. Like grazing deer, sometimes spirits could be lulled into a false sense of security, never suspecting that a hunter lay in wait.
Patient, silent, at one with the dark stillness. They sat together, absorbing the night and its energy. No hint of anything. An hour passed. Two.
Tombi stood and stretched. “I need to get home and sleep. Long day tomorrow at work.”
Chulah followed suit. “Sorry,” he mumbled. “I’ll mark that tree next time.”
“No problem.”
They walked the pine-cushioned path in silence, heading back to Chulah’s cabin. He pondered the mysterious April, resolving to see her tomorrow.
If she even remained in the bayou.
* * *
Foolish humans.
It hurt April’s feelings that Chulah had immediately called his friend to hunt her down. Not that they knew it was her, but still...it rankled.
She followed them from a safe distance as they left the woods. April had been extra careful and alert, making sure to create an illusion so they wouldn’t find the fairy portal tree.
So Chulah and his friends wanted to check her out? She’d keep Steven close by her side to deflect any hard questions so that she wasn’t forced to say anything until Chulah was in love with her. The original plan was that once he was, she’d tell him she was a Fae ambassador on a mission to get the shadow hunters’ help to fight Hoklonote and save the Fae realm.
And hope he’d buy it without asking too many questions. Although that appeared highly unlikely now.
She heard the Ishkitini before they did. And where the birds of the night cried, will-o’-the-wisps were sure to follow. April picked up a couple of sticks and threw them ahead on their path, alerting the hunters to danger.
“What was that?” Chulah stopped and searched the woods.
A slow smile played on Tombi’s mouth. “Kowi anuskasha. The forest dwellers.”
The Choctaw word for her kind wasn’t entirely accurate. The forest was their home, but they could stray from its borders. At least that word was better than—
“Bohpoli,” Chulah agreed. “One just threw sticks at us.”
As if the fairies could be reduced to a verb...thrower. They were more than that, so much more. In the old days, the Choctaw people regarded them as harmless, mischievous beings who threw sticks and stones to scare humans. These days, no one believed in fairies, which suited their need for secrecy just fine.
“April, perhaps?” Tombi asked.
“We don’t know that.” Chulah appeared unamused. “What do you want?” he demanded, staring into the void.
So frustrating. Could they not hear the birds? She must warn them.
“Wait. I hear something.” Chulah raised a finger to his lips and he and Tombi stilled, blending into the shadows. “Ishkitini,” he whispered.
Silently, they each withdrew their backpacks and unpacked their slingshots.
About time. The warriors could handle the birds, but the wisps... April flew above the treetops, above the predatory owls with their intent nocturnal eyes and ruffled feathers.
Seven glowing orbs skittered erratically behind the birds. One moment they were a few inches above ground; the next moment they shone in the treetops, only to flit immediately into a tangle of dying kudzu and brambles. Unpredictability, with no pattern in their movements, was part of what made them potentially deadly. That, and their ability to gang up on their human victims. Some of the wisps had more than one pulsing heart at their center, meaning they had entrapped more than one spirit victim.
There were fewer wisps since Nalusa Falaya had been contained in the last battle, but the surviving wisps were more cunning. More powerful. More deadly.
And they wanted Chulah and Tombi. Desperately.
April’s heart pinched imagining Chulah reduced to a green spirit trapped forever in some wisp’s miasmic glow. She couldn’t let that happen.
But mostly the wisps wanted the shadow hunters’ leader, Tombi. None of them realized Chulah’s silent determination and superior skill were the bigger threat. Nobody but her. It came from years of watching him. Invisible, unapproachable, unknown.
Forbidden.
Yet she still wanted him. In all his human splendor. His cinnamon-colored skin stretched over taut muscles. His long black hair that lifted in the bayou breeze like a silken armor. His brown eyes that were like a deep well reflecting all that was noble and worthy and vulnerable. His chiseled jaw and strong nose. His large, calloused hands that threw rocks with deadly precision but were so gentle and tender when he tended his vegetable garden or stroked an animal.
Seven against two, not counting the distracting Ishkitini. Not a fair fight. She had to save Chulah. How unfair if he should die now, so soon after she had finally had the opportunity to kiss him as a human girl. To lose him when he still thought she might be the enemy. It broke her heart merely imagining it.
She had to fight.
April flew down, aiming at the back of a wisp lagging a bit behind the others.
The decaying scent of Hoklonote teased her senses. He was behind all this, probably watching this attack from a safe distance. Which made it even more dangerous should he decide to enter the fray once the hunters had been weakened or trapped.
She got close enough to the lone wisp that she could identify the trapped victim inside. The green spirit rippled in agony. His name was Nitushi, Young Bear. At age nine, his spirit was captured, well over a hundred years ago. So young. Forced to suffer an existence of suffocating misery more than ten times that of his human life span.
Help me to help you, Nitushi. She pushed the words at him through the wisp’s thin smoke form. Her fairy glow was tiny compared to the wisp’s. So far, it hadn’t noticed her.
In the green flame, she viewed Nitushi’s capture as a human child. He’d disobeyed his parents. Had sneaked deep into the woods at dusk, unafraid and innocent. Convinced that the elders’ tales of evil spirits and bogeymen were stories meant to scare children into obedience.
Until Nalusa Falaya stepped onto the path. A man Nitushi had never seen in his small village. A man...yet not a man. The closer Nalusa drew, the more Nitushi grew uneasy. He had arms and legs and a face like other men, but he was too tall. His ears were too pointed, his eyes were too small, his skin a little darker than others in his Nation.
The long black being—Nalusa Falaya? He’d been warned about the dark shadow spirit, like all Choctaw children. Nitushi threw down his small bow and arrow and ran.
But his legs were not full-grown with the length and span of a grown-up’s limbs. No way to win this race.
Nitushi darted into the underbrush. His small size could be an advantage. He’d use it to hide. Terrified, he glanced back but the strange man had disappeared. Nitushi panted, his heart pounding like a war drum in his chest. He’d never disobey his parents again. He’d never come alone into the woods at night again, he’d never...
A rustle broke through the din of his drumming heartbeat. Louder, closer, fast as an arrow. He looked down and gasped. The hugest snake he’d ever seen. It slithered S-shaped, rattling and deadly.
Nitushi was mesmerized, paralyzed by the small black eyes in its triangular face. Intelligent eyes. The eyes of Nalusa. He closed his eyes before the fangs pierced his flesh and poison invaded his veins like a thousand needles pricking his veins. A wisp hovered nearby, ready to claim Nitushi’s spirit.
April witnessed it all in an instant.
I will free you, Nitushi. All will be well. She was born for this. For wielding her Fae enchantment to soothe a distressed human soul—or a spirit if need be.
April concentrated, inhaling deeply. She exhaled, releasing a mixture of heat and coolness to penetrate the wisp’s orb, a ray of focus that penetrated through the vaporous wisp and to Nitushi.
Fly through the light. Hurry.
He did. The green heart pulsing of his spirit elongated to a thin shaft and he squeezed through the narrow beam of light April provided.
Swoop.
April released her breath. The green light in front of her transformed to a pure white that gleamed like a miniature star in the Alabama bayou. This time, the emanating images were of joy. Nitushi’s slender, boyish face alight with a grin. What a handsome lad he had once been.
Find your people, she urged softly. Your parents have been waiting for you in the After Life for a long, long time.
He nodded solemnly, and his eyes drifted upward, somewhere private and sacred to him. A place she could not see or enter.
Svshki. My mother. Ak. My father, he breathed.
The wisp shook, darkened. Aware its strength had escaped.
April flew backward, out of reach for its last moment of power. The wisp screeched, a rage-filled rushing of air that sounded like a punctured balloon collapsing. The bayou grew silent again. The other wisps continued on, uncaring that a fellow creature had died. That was the way of their world. A waiting and a battle. A taking or a releasing. Victory or defeat. And always, some form of death in the brew.
Hoklonote’s scent grew stronger, but not near enough to cause a panic. The old spirit was far too cunning to confront one fairy. And why should he when his goal was to suppress their entire realm? Besides, Hoklonote was a coward. Anyway, she was far too insignificant to matter.
But Chulah mattered.
April flew to the treetops, determined to help eliminate more of the wisps intent on Chulah’s destruction. Nitushi’s spirit flashed before her, climbing upward.
Yakoke. Thank you, he whispered. The white ball of light became a pinprick in the heavens.
At least she had helped one soul this evening.
But there was no time for quiet thanksgiving. Not with Chulah’s life in danger. Had the birds arrived yet?
April streaked forward. They had probably already dealt with the Ishkitini. Which left six wisps versus two humans. Those odds left her burning with fear. If she was quick enough, maybe she could take out one more before they attacked, even up the humans’ chances.
The wisps were almost upon Chulah and Tombi. April flew to the nearest, one with two trapped spirits. Inhale, exhale.
Whoosh.
Two white lights funneled out of the wisp. A brief glimpse of two adolescent girls, shining with hope as they ascended to their Land of the Spirits. Quickly, April rushed back, avoiding the gust of evil energy as the wisp burst and collapsed in on itself.
Five remained.
“Look out,” Chulah warned his friend. “Five incoming.”
Tombi moved until the men stood back to back. “I’ve got you covered.”
With speed and precision, they dug out rocks and loaded their weapons.
“How did they find us?” Chulah grumbled. “Haven’t seen this many at one time in months.”
“Me either. The Ishkitini had mostly disappeared, too, after Nalusa’s defeat. Until tonight.”
Chulah frowned. “If that fairy thing guided them to us...”
The accusation cut deep, but she ignored the pain, concentrating on what must be done. April darted closer and killed one more wisp before quickly flying off. To stay longer meant being unwittingly felled by the shadow hunters as they aimed at the wisps.
Chulah stared directly at her. But was blind. “I smell violets.”
She darted away. He needed to concentrate on the wisp attack, not her.
* * *
“This is no good. I’ve got a better plan,” Tombi said. He motioned with his hand. “We have time to flush them out. This way.”
Chulah ran, following him down the game trail, noiseless and unerring in the feeble sliver of moonlight. Only their supernatural shadow-hunting eyesight made it possible to see in such darkness. They had managed to lose the wisps, but they were still clearly in danger.
Tombi looked back over his shoulder.
“Yeah, I’ve been hearing the same rustling,” Chulah whispered.
Tombi picked up the pace and Chulah guessed at his strategy. The trail ended at a large clearing. Dangerous to cross at night while being hunted.
“The noise has stopped,” Chulah said in a low, quiet voice.
Tombi held a finger to his lips and Chulah stood silent, straining to pick up any unusual sound.
It came.
A familiar whooshing of air broke the normal night sounds. The sound of a large flock of Ishkitini flying low. Yet another round of attack. They could outrun and hide from the wisps when outnumbered, but the damn birds could always spot them. And where the birds of the night flew, the wisps were sure to follow. Hoklonote sent them to wear down a hunter mentally and physically so that the wisps could easily finish the job when they arrived.
Chulah called on past experience to determine if they had time to cross the field before the birds, huge horned owls, spotted them. If they miscalculated, they were dead meat to the birds of prey. But if they hurried...
Tombi pointed to a stand of cypresses across the field. “Quick to the trees,” he called.
Chulah sprinted side by side with his friend, ever conscious of the approaching birds with their talons of death. Sharp claws that ripped human flesh and feasted on it when possible.
Fifty yards to safety.
Another sound emerged from the generalized whooshing, the flapping of wings and an occasional hoot as the Ishkitini homed in.
Halfway there. The bird noises were so raucous and loud that Chulah’s skin stretched taut, expecting the sting of talon at any moment. If they could just reach the tree grove it would help shield them against the attack.
They made it, quickly scrambling behind the gnarled tree trunks. Position reversed and upper hand gained. Now it was the wisps that had to cross open field. Through the tree branches, Chulah counted at least four or five wisp hearts flashing bright blue green. A signal they were preparing to attack.
Expertly, Chulah retrieved his slingshot, a knife and several rocks from his backpack. He gripped the slingshot in his left hand and the knife in his right. In a move born from years of fighting experience, Chulah positioned the knife so that its blade flared out from the underside of his hand, perfect for slashing. This way he could shoot and keep his knife at the ready to kill any predator that came within striking distance.
The droning of owls filled the air and vibrated in his gut. They were upon them.
Two owls flew within a yard of Chulah, their bloody red eyes glowing with fierce intensity. Chulah raised his hand and slashed down. Once, twice. The smell of blood and nasty meat rent the air. Another owl sank its claws into Chulah’s left biceps. Chulah slammed the owl against a tree trunk and knocked it unconscious. He circled to the front of the tree, loaded his slingshot and fired at a wisp that had closed within thirty yards.
A high-pitched squeal assaulted his ears as the wisp disintegrated into a puff of smoke that emitted an acrid smell. The teal heart trapped within the wisp transformed to a white spark that spiraled upward to the stars.
But there was no time to admire the lovely sight.
A quick glance to his left and his breath caught. Tombi fired at a wisp, killing it, but he paid a price. He was surrounded by the Ishkitini. The largest owl sank its beak into Tombi’s neck.
Damnation.
Chulah rushed over. Tombi slashed the owl that had bit him, but it was too late. Blood streamed from his neck wound and he fell to the ground. At least four owls immediately attacked his prone figure, sinking their talons into his legs and shoulders.
“Help!” Tombi screamed. “You son of a bitch owls. You—”
“I’m here,” Chulah panted, stabbing his friend’s attackers and kicking at others trying to jump or fly at them.
“Look out!” Tombi warned, rolling to his right. “Incoming.”
Blinding strobes of flashing light pulsated in the darkness and Chulah squinted. A cold, foul odor emanated from the nearby wisp and it filled Chulah with an immobilizing dread. No wisp had ever come so close to him. Surprise left him vulnerable. There was no time to mentally shield his mind from the despair the wisps exuded. They fed on human misery. It made them stronger, more lethal.
A rock whizzed by his ear.
“Bingo,” Tombi grunted. “I got it.”
The flashing light extinguished and the trapped soul escaped, lighting up as instantaneously as a struck match and ascending upward. Joy and peace filled Chulah’s heart. The sensation was a hundred times stronger than the wisp’s aura of despair.
Incredibly, the Ishkitini arose en masse and left.
Chulah scrambled to his feet and circled Tombi’s body, searching for more wisps. “I don’t get it,” he mumbled, hands on his hips. “I saw at least three other wisps preparing to attack us. Where did they go?”
“We’d be goners if they’d stuck around,” Tombi said, his voice so faint that Chulah was instantly drawn to a new dilemma.
He dropped to a knee beside his friend. They’d helped each other many times throughout the years, but this was the closest they had come to almost dying. He’d never forget that Tombi had saved his life with the last-minute rock hit.
Tombi, and some stroke of fortune that scared off the Ishkitini and will-o’-the-wisps. Where had that help come from? A mystery to ponder later.
“We need to get you medical help. Quick.” Chulah put one arm under Tombi’s knees and the other beneath his back. With a grunt, he lifted Tombi. Somehow, he’d find the strength to carry him to the cabin.
“Put me down,” Tombi protested. “I can walk.”
Chulah eased him down to his feet and Tombi passed out. Perspiration broke out all over Chulah’s body. He was alone in the woods with a man who might be dying.
Just like his father.
And he’d been unable to save him either.
* * *
April shivered as an eerie silence split the night, broken only by the faraway screeches of retreating owls. She couldn’t stop the flooding waves of panic, even though the danger had passed. The image of Chulah, frozen and vulnerable as the wisp hovered, homing in to claim his soul, would haunt her the rest of her life. Without thinking, she’d attacked another wisp closing in on Chulah from behind, a second before he would have been lost to her forever. The other two wisps had scampered into the safety of the woods, bewildered at the invisible attacks.
Stunned and exhausted, April gazed down at the wreckage.
Chulah’s face was grimy and he bent down on one knee to the figure lying prone on the ground. “Tombi? Wake up. Wake up or Annie will never forgive you for leaving her. You hear me?”
The man lay unmoving.
Oh, my queen. Not again. Guilt paralyzed her essence. She’d been responsible the last time when Chulah lost the father he adored. And now his best friend might die, too?
Tombi stirred and groaned. “Give me a minute. I’ll be fine.”
Chulah let out a low breath and wiped his brow. The same relief almost made April melt, until wistfulness crept in. If only Chulah cared a fraction as much about her as he did his friend.
Okay, she was being unreasonable. He’d never laid eyes on her until recently—at least not that he remembered. Trouble was, she’d been secretly watching him for years. He’d first caught her eye as a young teenager, so brave and strong and dominating the other boys in their fierce stickball competitions.
But the first time they’d actually met, she’d ruined his life in the space of a mere two hours. Later, after his father had died, she’d watched him again in Fae form. Around his large family of younger brothers and sister, his face had been stoic. He’d amused the younger kids and comforted the crying girl. For hours. Until he went for a walk.
She had followed. Ashamed for playing a role in the death of the father he loved.
Not having parents, she didn’t entirely understand his grief. But as an outcast in the Fae realm, she had made up stories of a mother and father’s love. The truth was that her mother had abandoned her for a human lover. April wasn’t sure who her real father was or if he cared she existed. Still, she’d fantasized about a parent’s love and imagined how she’d feel if one of them had died.
Chulah had stopped and sat on a fallen log, burying his face in his hands. He made no sound, but his shoulders shook. It was awful. It seemed never-ending. A desire to touch him nearly overpowered April. But she couldn’t—the Fae taboo was too strong.
Maybe just a little enchantment...enough to give him a bit of comfort. She hovered closer, planting a kiss on her palm and blowing it toward him on the wind.
He ceased the dreadful shaking and raised his head, bewildered. “Who’s there?” he whispered.
April had said nothing.
No human had ever noticed or spoken to her before. Not that she’d done much enchanting, but she’d seen the other Fae cast them. No human had ever questioned who was there and what they were doing.
Concluding she sucked at enchantments, April had drifted farther back into the woods. Chulah arose and brusquely swiped at his face with his T-shirt. “Thank you,” he said, thumping his right hand on his chest.
He was talking to her!
April hardly dared move as he returned to his family’s cabin. She’d probably fallen a little in love with them right there at age sixteen.
A large moan snapped April out of her reverie. Tombi stumbled to his feet, with Chulah supporting his weight on one arm.
“Let’s get you home. Annie will have you feeling better in no time.”
Tombi laughed ruefully. “The cure will be worse than the pain. I hate to think what bitter concoction she’ll brew.”
“Whatever it is, you’ll drink it and be grateful,” Chulah said firmly. “She’s saved your ass more than once with her herbs.”
They made slow, painful progress. April flew behind, in case there were more surprise attacks.
Chulah suddenly halted, as if he had sensed her presence. He pumped a fist in the air. “Is that you, April? If you had anything to do with tonight, I’ll...” He sputtered to a stop, his eyes flashing like lightning and his voice deep and rumbling like thunder.
So he’d guessed and made a connection that she was the creature he’d seen earlier—although he couldn’t know for sure. Pain washed over her in waves, drowning her in misery. He was so blind, literally and figuratively.
And maybe...just maybe...he wasn’t the man she’d thought him to be. Maybe that young boy she had connected to, the one so moved at his father’s death, yet so kind and caring with his family, maybe that boy had died over the hard years of battles and deceits and deaths. Maybe the hardened warrior he’d become had lost the ability to love and sense the beauty that skittered outside his peripheral vision.
If so, that would be the greatest tragedy of all. April slumped to the ground. If only there was someone for her. Someone who cared. Had cared about her her whole life and she just didn’t know it.
But there was no one.
She lifted her head, full of resolve. Chulah didn’t have to know this pain. This crippling loneliness. She knew that somewhere inside Chulah, the young boy he’d been remained. She just had to find him. Even if he believed the worst of her, even if he learned the truth and condemned her for killing his father, she still loved him.
Chapter 5 (#ulink_311ef7de-9124-5200-8ed1-a5a34c351114)
Tombi must have been badly hurt.
All day, she’d expected him, his wife and Chulah to show up at the store. She’d even demanded that the irritating Steven stay by her side, sure the trio would try to trip her up with their questions. She couldn’t let them discover more about their race or the sacred fairy tree.
But the only thing worse than an inquisition was waiting for one to happen.
To hell with waiting and wondering. Steven had given up on them coming and had gone back to the Fae realm to visit and replenish his shape-shifting form.
April closed the store and rode her bike through the woods to Chulah’s cabin. The light shone from his windows, a welcoming beacon in the late-afternoon October chill. She rapped at the heavy wooden door, hoping to catch him alone.
He flung the door open and slumped against the frame. “You,” he said flatly.
His face was gray and his hair in wild disarray. He wore only a pair of low-slung jeans, and her mouth went dry at the sight of his bare chest and flat, muscled abs. Sure, she’d seen him bare-chested many times, but within actual touching range, as a human, was so different. It was all she could do not to run a hand down his sleek torso.
“Can I come in?” April peeked past him, relieved no one else was in sight. “You look awful. The wisps got to you last night.”
He stiffened. “What do you know about that?”
She couldn’t keep her big mouth shut. “I might have been there.” She’d been lying in bed in that stark apartment, breathing stale air, longing for the night air. To spread her wings and fly. So she came to the forest, soothing her soul with its life force. But instead of a peaceful interlude, she’d been drawn into battle.
Chulah’s eyes narrowed to suspicious slits. “You’re the...thing...I saw in the woods, aren’t you? Did you send the wisps our way?”
Obstinate, suspicious man. April put her hands on her hips, goaded into spilling her guts. She was tired of all the blame. It was time he learned she was his ally and not his enemy. “Yeah, I was there. And I took out three wisps for you.”
So much for waiting until Chulah was in love with her to reveal that she wasn’t an ordinary human. He continued to regard her wordlessly.
“You’re welcome,” she said, bristling. “Now, are you going to let me in or not? We need to talk.”
Chulah stepped to the side and waved her in.
April entered and studied the cabin’s interior. She’d never seen it before, except that small bit observable through a lit window at night. Not that she hadn’t tried. But Chulah and the other hunters placed consecrated sage and salt on all four corners of their dwellings for protection against the shadows. Even though she wasn’t one of the dark shadow spirits, in Fae form she was a nature spirit, and the salt and sage had effectively prevented her from entering.
Probably a good thing. She’d have been unable to resist being near Chulah as he slept, or even better, showered.
The rooms were as sparse as his words. Minimalistic. The coziness of the log walls contrasted with the modern lines of dark leather sofas and chairs. Bright-colored woven rugs adorned one wall and another enlivened the center of the den. April sat down. Motorcycle magazines, empty soda cans, a wet washcloth and a large bottle of aspirin lay scattered on a glass coffee table.
“Feeling poorly?”
“Like hell. But forget that. I want straight answers from you.” He sat across from her. “Who and what are you?”
April chose her words carefully, ones that she’d practiced ever since she’d been called to solicit help from the shadow hunters. “I’m an ambassador of sorts. Sent to warn you that Hoklonote is seeking dominion over the Fae realm—”
“Whoa.” He leaned forward, eyes gleaming. “The Fae realm? There really are such things as fairies, then? Is that what you—”
“I’m not a real fairy.” At least not a pure one.
“You’re lying. That was you I saw in the woods.” He swiftly lowered his lips to her neck and sniffed. “That’s it. That’s the scent.”
April inched away, dismayed at his heightened sense of smell and at the same time aroused at the intimate contact. “I already told you I was there,” she said coolly, hiding the flustered beating of her heart.
“I smelled violets by that tree. It’s the way you smell.”
“I use a floral perfume,” she said, determined to refocus the conversation back to what mattered. “As I was saying, the Fae sent me to warn you and ask your help to defeat Hoklonote. They aren’t the only ones in danger here. If Hoklonote forces the Fae to work with him, he might succeed in unleashing Nalusa.”
He gave a low whistle. “You know your stuff. I’ll give you that.”
“Of course I do. I couldn’t solicit your help without knowing the situation.”
“An ambassador, huh? What the hell does that mean?”
She ran a hand over her skirt, ignoring the question. “Will you help us—I mean, will you help the Fae?” She sucked at lying.
“I’m not agreeing to a damn thing until you tell me the truth.” His eyes burned with anger...and perhaps a touch of fever.
Back off, April. He’s not buying what you’re selling. She reached across and ran a hand down his heated cheek. More than temper was at play. “You’re unwell. I can read it in your eyes and the flush on your face.”
“Nothing wrong with me. Just a headache from hell.”
Not likely. But she’d help him with that. “And your friend?”
“Worse. But he’s in good hands with Annie. She’ll fix him something to ease his pain.”
“Tia Henrietta’s granddaughter? The witch?” All the Fae had heard of Tia, the hoodoo queen of the swamp. Stood to reason that her granddaughter, Annie, was psychically gifted as well.
“Don’t call her that,” he snapped.
“I didn’t mean it as an insult. What does she call herself?”
“A root worker. Says she’s into hoodoo.”
April couldn’t understand the distinction. But whatever. Magic was magic no matter which name humans chose to call it.
A sliver of jealousy clawed her heart. So Chulah stuck up for this woman? While she had been saving him from harm for years, and was viewed with mistrust. She could ease her man’s pain, too, with a little Fae enchantment. April discreetly blew out a breath and directed her essence toward Chulah.
The pain lines in his forehead eased and the tension in his shoulders relaxed. He sat up suddenly. “Hey, what are you doing?”
She gave him her most doe-eyed look and shrugged, palms out. “Do you see me holding a fairy wand?”
“No, but...” Confusion knotted his brow. “This...this wave of...calm washed over me.”
“Bet this is the best you’ve felt since last night.” His eyes turned cold at the mention, so she hurried to add, “Judging by the look on your face when you opened the door.”
He shut his eyes. “I’m not going to fight you over this. I do feel better.” He cocked one eye open. “But no more of that fairy stuff. Okay?”
“I’m not a fairy, but agreed.” April kicked off her shoes and hugged her knees to her chest, trying to contain her glee. He’d accepted her help! After the fact, without prior permission.
But still. Progress could be measured in the tiniest of increments. There was hope they could help each other with more important matters. Like Hoklonote.
But we might not have time for this, Steven’s words whispered in her ears. As if he were sitting beside her. April frowned, but couldn’t pick up any sign he was present. She must be paranoid; Steven couldn’t slip past the sage and salt any more than she could. Chulah didn’t sense something amiss either, or he wouldn’t be half-asleep in the chair.
Poor guy probably hadn’t slept all night.
“Maybe you should drink some coffee or something,” she suggested. She’d volunteer to make it for him, but had no clue how to perform domestic chores.
He picked up a can of soda and took a swig. “I’m fine.”
The man sure liked those drinks. She wondered what was in it. “Can I have a sip?” she asked impulsively.
Chulah handed her the soda he was drinking and she tilted the can back, downing its contents in a long swallow. Sharp bubbles scalded her tongue and throat. Disgusting. She crinkled her nose.
“Not your taste? I’ve got—”
Hiccup. Her body jerked upward.
“Aha! You rose again. Just like you did when you drank that brandy. Not a fairy, my ass.”
She was so, so sick of the lies between them. At least, in this, she could acquiesce. The man wasn’t stupid, and she refused to slowly enchant Chulah in order to force his cooperation. “Liquid seems to have that effect on me,” she admitted.
“It was you I saw in the woods.”
It wasn’t a question.
“Steven claims it’s some glitch in the glamour causing the levitation,” she continued, all business. As if this were a normal conversation. “Anyway, I came over because I thought we should have a little talk. One-on-one.” And not with his friends turning him against her.
Chulah scowled. “Of course you did. The better to influence me, right? I can’t believe a thing you say.”
“I’m telling the truth now. You know my deep, dark secret.” One of them, anyway.
“Yeah, right.” He stood and paced. “Bet you have a million secrets buried under that beautiful, innocent face.”
Beautiful. He thinks I’m beautiful. That was something she could grasp and hold on to while facing his disgust.
“I’m not considered particularly beautiful by the other Fae,” she said casually. “To them, I’m not even run-of-the-mill pretty. ‘A bit plain’ is how I’m usually described.”
Chulah snorted. “Impossible. Harder to believe than the fact that you aren’t human.”
“I’m half-human. On my father’s side,” she said quickly. As if this might make her appear more acceptable and less foreign.
“Why didn’t you tell me the truth to start with? I wouldn’t have dismissed your claim right off the bat. I’m a shadow hunter. I’ve fought supernatural beings most of my life. Hell, I have my own powers.”
“I’m well aware of your heightened senses. And your strength.” April’s eyes roved over his broad shoulders and chest, the lean, muscular biceps of his arms. Her throat went dry remembering how it felt to be wrapped in those solid arms.
He stared at her and she sighed. “I’m sorry. Try to see it from my point of view. I was instructed to tell as little as possible.”
“You’re doing a fine job,” he said in a clipped voice. “Try being less of a politician. You’ll get a lot further with me that way.”
“I will. Promise.” Lies of omission didn’t count. She kept her chin up and met his stare.
“Very well.” Chulah returned to his seat and eyed her wearily. “I tried to find you last night. Turns out I couldn’t even locate that tree where you first appeared. You know the one I’m talking about.”
April shifted her feet on the pine floor and smoothed her hands over her flowered peasant skirt, debating how much to reveal and how much to keep secret. A balance between telling enough to gain his trust and not saying so much that he could use any knowledge against them. “Sure, I know the tree. It’s sacred to us, just as you and your people have sacred spots in the woods.”
“Yes, but I bet you know exactly where our spots are and why they’re special to us.”
“True.” No sense lying about something that obvious. “But we can’t let humans get too close. You were able to see me in Fae form because I had dropped my guard on my way there.” Thinking about his hot kiss.
He didn’t need to know that either. Chulah was arrogant enough without further ammunition.
“Why are you so protective of this tree?”
“It’s sacred,” she said, skirting around the edge of his question. “As you discovered, we protect it mostly by moving it every night. It’s never in the exact same place twice.”
“Fascinating.” His eyes seared her. Was he talking about her or the tree?
The kiss was there between them as if it had happened seconds ago. Which reminded April—she still hadn’t conducted an experiment to see if all humans were electric when she touched them. Was it magical between any Fae and any human?
She couldn’t speak, couldn’t move. Could barely breathe, for that matter. He felt the pull, too. He was still as an oak; only his eyes moved, lowering to her lips, and then lower, focused on the rise and fall of her breasts under the thin cotton shirt.
The silence grew as thick and hot as Alabama humidity in the midst of summer. A fever of longing burned, scorching her with desire. This was not the mischievous kissing game of a fairy lad. This was sensual human desire. All-consuming. All-engulfing.
Exactly what her mother must have felt with her human lover. The one she chose to live with over her own daughter. The dousing reminder cleared her brain. April tore her gaze from his face and stared at her hands in her lap.
Chulah stood abruptly and paced again, bare feet padding the wooden floor, scarcely making a sound. For such a large man, he had the stealth of a bobcat stalking prey. No doubt one of his many hunting skills honed over the years.
“You realize I looked like a fool last night in front of my friend. No tree, no fairy.”
Ah, the male pride was injured. “But if he’s truly your friend, that shouldn’t matter.”
He whirled around. “It matters. Where I come from, friendships and family are the foundation of who you are. We are loyal to each other. We are nothing without one another.”
April regarded his impassioned face. Chulah was what mattered to her. Exactly as he was. Unencumbered by his needy stepmother and half siblings and his fellow shadow hunters. You are important for just being you, she wanted to say. But that would only anger him. And possibly alienate him.
She couldn’t bear that. To lose all hope of his returning her love would break her heart. And it would destroy any chance of recruiting his assistance to the Fae cause. It was still important to her that she restore her family’s name in fairy. Not for her mother, but to prove to her kind that she was loyal and honorable. That halflings shouldn’t be viewed as inferior species. She needed to prove all that to herself as well.
“I understand about loyalty,” she assured Chulah. “It’s huge in the Fae realm. Maybe even more important than it is for you.”
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