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Bayou Shadow Hunter
Debbie Herbert


Secrets that lurk in the Bayou…Bent on revenge, Native American Shadow Hunter Tombi Silver could turn to only one woman for help. ‘Witch’ Annie Matthew’s ability to hear auras allowed her to discover Tombi’s friend, mystically trapped by forces that could destroy them all. Yet her accompanying message of a traitor in their midst meant Tombi could trust no one!Dare he bring Annie along on his quest to fight shadow spirits? Putting his faith in someone outside his tribe, especially one who pulled at his tightly controlled desires, could prove just as dangerous as his mission…









Wrong time, and possibly the wrong man.


But as if her arms weren’t controlled by her brain, Annie reached around his back and drew him to her.

His back muscles tightened beneath her touch and he drew in a ragged breath. Tombi stilled, as if warring with his sexual desire and his duty in the world outside the tent.

Annie wanted him desperately, just for a few minutes, a little slice of time. She saw how much he gave to the others, how they looked up to him. Didn’t he deserve a few minutes of happiness for himself?

Didn’t she?

Who knew what dangers the night and the hunt might bring?


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

Hunter

Debbie Herbert






www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


This book is dedicated to my mother, April Deanne Goodson Gainey, who passed away while I wrote this book. I thank her for her belief in me as a woman and as a writer. Miss you, Mom.


Contents

Cover (#ua756394b-fc61-504e-ac8d-b72b5faa77ae)

Introduction (#u3b0ada75-48a7-5a2b-b058-5256d9e81c1f)

About the Author (#uedfb4a67-65fd-5f95-b435-03c991c57daf)

Title Page (#u4174fd35-a9e0-5e3b-99a9-bb2f719c3ab4)

Dedication (#u941a64d6-d314-51fe-bf44-836c66b29737)

Chapter 1 (#u7fe6f5e5-c179-5ffe-841a-3b92ef778274)

Chapter 2 (#u3ae50737-8e76-5f52-9ab8-60cb285479d3)

Chapter 3 (#u50428b48-4f1b-5b3d-8bf5-18d96dd7a95c)

Chapter 4 (#ud83cf5d2-844b-56e1-b872-15d782432a55)

Chapter 5 (#ufced2885-8002-5194-b2ca-6a53e4c4c78e)

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)

Extract (#litres_trial_promo)

Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)


Chapter 1 (#ulink_47dc3118-30b4-5fed-9d34-fbc1c046001a)

“Thunder Moon comin’ tonight. Yer life is fixin’ to change.”

Grandma Tia called the August full moon “Thunder Moon” and proclaimed it a time of enchantment. Annie had to admit tonight did appear magical and mysterious. The forest beckoned with its thick canopy of trees draped in long tendrils of Spanish moss that fluttered in the sea breeze with a silver shimmer like a living veil of secrecy.

And so they had burned tiny scraps of paper where they’d written what they wanted purged from their lives. As she’d done every month for most of her life, Annie had written only one thing. The same thing. She held the paper to candle flame, watching it catch fire and curl in on itself before the wind carried it away. It splintered into tiny embers that flickered like fireflies before turning to ash.

Annie sat on the bed, hugging her knees to her chest and staring out the window, pondering her grandma’s words. She could use some change. Lots of it. If only she could get rid of... No. No point agonizing over that, when she was so close to sleep.

A green glow skittered erratically in the swampy darkness.

Very pretty. Annie turned away from the bedroom window, yawned and slipped into bed, pulling a thin cotton sheet over her head like a cocoon.

Wait a minute... She jerked to a sitting position and peered out the window across the room. Each glass pane framed squares of refracted moonbeams piercing through tumbles of tree limbs. A patchwork quilt of the macabre.

But on second glance, no green, glowing orbs of light dotted the night’s landscape. Must have been a trick of the eye or the flash of a dream. Perhaps it was merely that Grandma had planted the suggestion of something magical happening tonight when they had gone outside after dinner and held a brief lunar ritual. Full moons represented death and change, a time for powerful magic.

A ball of light again materialized at the tree line, not more than twenty feet from their cottage. It burned blue at the center and green at the edges. Annie instinctively touched the silver cross nestled in the hollow of her throat, palm flattening above the rapid thumping of her heart.

A teal stream of light broke away from the orb, forming a tail like a comet hurtling across the night sky. The pixilated specks of color were magical as fairy dust, coalescing into the shape of an arm, beckoning her closer.

Dare she?

Annie scrambled off the bed, feet touching the rough-hewn pine floorboard, still sun-warmed from the day’s ferocious heat. She raced to the back door and slid into flip-flops she kept at the entry. Hand on the door, she paused and glanced to her left. Grandma’s bedroom door was open, and her deep, labored breathing wafted across the cottage. Annie softly tiptoed to the room and peeked inside.

Grandma Tia’s hair was wrapped in a satin cloth that nestled against a white pillowcase. Her lined face was relaxed in a way only produced by sweet dreams. The weight and worry of time and life’s sorrows laid aside in a few hours of respite.

She wouldn’t rouse her from slumber. Grandma Tia’s heart condition meant she needed rest. Annie’s eyes rested on the red flannel gris-gris bag hung on the bedpost. Which reminded her to grab her own mojo bag. She hurried back to her bedroom, retrieved it from beneath the pillow and tied it to the drawstring of her pajama bottoms. Just in case. A quick glance out the window confirmed the green light still hovered a few feet above ground.

Despite the late hour, humidity cocooned her body in a damp embrace the moment she stepped outside. To top it off, the light had disappeared again. She sat on the concrete porch steps and lifted her hair off the back of her sticky nape, waiting and watching.

Probably nothing but swamp gas. The night buzzed with a battalion of insects, and she cocked her head to one side, listening, actively expanding her energy outward to pick up even the subtlest of sound—the wind swirling clumps of sand, the hoot of an owl far away—all against the eternal ebb and flow of the distant ocean tide.

What was she doing out here? Normally, she wouldn’t think of investigating something alone, but, like a cat, curiosity overrode her fear.

Something prickled her skin. The air danced with a faint tinkling—like the fading echo of tiny bells rung from deep within the forest. Annie closed her eyes, gathering the vibration of musical notes, assimilating a pattern: one, two, two, three, two, two, five, two, two.

Melodic patterns had called to her since kindergarten when a teacher handed out metal triangles and wands. She’d pinged the base, and the ringing vibration had shivered down her spine. A living pulse that had been a first clue of her gift, her curse, her fate. Other kids had banged away on the triangles until the pureness of the music changed to an unbearable din, and she’d run out of the classroom.

She’d been running ever since.

But tonight’s high-pitched bell notes made her feet itch to dance and throw her arms open to embrace the night. It had a certain symmetry and lyrical quality that charmed. It drew her, tugged at her soul...

Annie opened her eyes. More than a dozen orbs of light danced in the distant darkness. They were a rainbow of colors and sizes and varied in brightness.

That was where the music came from.

They called her, beckoned her to draw near. She rose unsteadily to her feet, light-headed with awe, and slowly stepped away from the cottage. The lights bobbed and darted behind and between the oaks. All at once, the orbs disappeared, as if someone had turned off a switch. Annie ran toward the woods. For once she ran to the music instead of away from its source.

Wait for me. Don’t leave me behind.

As if hearing the unspoken words, a bluish-green orb flashed. A spectacular, southern aurora borealis. It was the first, lone light she’d seen from the bedroom window, as distinctive and individual as a human form. She ran across the yard, plunged into the woods, down a narrow trail littered with pinecones and broken twigs. Black night, thick with heat, pressed around her body, yet she stumbled forward, ever deeper. More lights bobbled ahead, just beyond reach. Mosquitoes buzzed her ears and nipped her arms and chest. The sulfur smell of swampland grew more pungent and sharp.

Annie didn’t care. The blue light glowed like a lantern against the darkness, and the crystalline notes played from its burning core. Low-lying branches scraped her arms and face, and her legs grew wooden with exhaustion as on she walked, following ever deeper.

A clearing opened onto a muddy bank, and Annie pulled up short at the sight of a brackish pond. Mud gooshed over her sandals and between her toes. The slimy sensation worked like a face slap. Blackness shadowed the night as a cloud passed over the moon, and the glowing orbs vanished once more. The music stopped, and silence gathered, dense and foreboding.

“Umm...hello? Anybody out there?” She didn’t know whether she felt more foolish or frightened. She lifted one foot out of the goo and almost lost a sandal. “Terrific. This is just great.”

Screeching erupted—as if a parliament of enraged owls or a volt of vultures were descending on her for interloping on their territory. Annie clamped hands over ears and squeezed her fingertips over the ear canals, but the noise and pressure felt like a bomber plane taking off inside her brain. Turning blindly, she ran, desperate to escape the sound attack.

What the hell is this? Where is it coming from? It was like a combination of an animal screech, a howl of pain, shattering glass and a jarring, jumbled chorus of dissonant chords, as if someone were banging an untuned piano.

Silence crashed the darkness. Annie leaned her back against an oak tree and hunched down, panting. Relieved the noise had stopped but expecting it to return any moment, her body was coiled and tense. She grimaced at the stitch in her side and tried to regulate her breathing to a slower pace. Calm down. Think.

She tilted her head upward, rough bark grazing her scalp. The moon glowed, laced with a web of black thread from the treetops. The sky held a thin promise of dawn, evidenced only by a violet-hued line in the east that graduated to black by degrees.

Great. So she knew where east lay. But that was the extent of her internal compass. And it didn’t help her figure out how to get back to the cottage. Best to stay right where she was and wait for daylight. If she was lucky, someone, maybe a hunter, would be along, or she would recognize some landmark once the sun emerged.

How could she have been so stupid as to trot off at night into the bayou after a will-o’-the-wisp or whatever that light was? She shuddered. Focus. Right now there were rattlers and water moccasins and gators to worry about. And who knew what other cursed creatures roamed the land.

She swatted at a mosquito nipping her arm. Hmm. Could snakes climb trees? A glance upward revealed that seeking higher ground was a non-option. The nearest limb was several feet above her standing height. When she recouped her strength, perhaps she should search for a stone or stick just in case...

“Help me!”

The deep baritone voice rumbled along her spine.

Annie scrambled to her feet and searched the shadows. “Who’s there?”

Silence. Okay, she was going to be that person in the headline news who was lost in the woods and found days later, a nutcase raving about swamp monsters and Big Foot and saying she’d been carted away by aliens on their UFO.

Nothing’s out there.

“Please.”

The anguish in that word was too tortured not to be real. Annie shivered despite the heat and sweat coating her body. Ignoring someone else’s pain went against all her healing instincts. “Where are you? Who are you?”

An orb manifested not ten feet from where she stood. No warning, no gathering of light, no sound. One second before loomed a dark void, and in a clock’s single tick, the orb absorbed the space.

The blue-green light swirled and pulsed like a breathing, living thing. The same orb she’d seen first from her bedroom window.

So the question was no longer where or who but “What are you?” she whispered.

“The shadows trapped me.”

The voice rumbled in her gut, vibrating in her being. “You’re...trapped in the light?” she asked haltingly.

“My heart beats within. Look.”

At the core of the blue light shone a concentrated mass of teal that swelled and contracted. In, out, in, out, pulsing with the cosmic rhythm of life.

A heart.

Not the flowers-and-lace, cupid sort drawn by five-year-olds, but the it’s-alive-and-it’s-real-and-it-beats kind. Annie’s breath hitched, and she took an unsteady step backward. She couldn’t stop staring at the fist-sized gelatinous mass of muscle that pumped and wobbled.

“I need out,” the low-timbered voice pleaded. “Help me get out.”

She shook her head violently, her own heart pounding a song of fear. “I don’t know how.” And even if she did, no way was she freeing...whatever it was. Not until she knew its true nature.

“My name is Bo,” it said. “Find Tombi and tell him I live. He’s in grave danger. Trust no one within the circle. I was betrayed. And if he was ever my true friend, he needs to find that betrayer. I can’t be released until then.”

“I don’t know this Tombi person,” she protested.

“He’s coming now. Tell him to beware.”

Annie swung her head in all directions but saw and sensed nothing in the shadows. “Why don’t you tell him yourself?”

“He can’t hear me, witch. No one ever has but you.”

“Oh,” she breathed. “That’s why you brought me here.” It...Bo...either knew her grandma or of her reputation. “I think you want my grandmother, not me. I’m only here on a visit and—”

“Warn him.”

The light shifted, swirling in individuated sparkles and growing smaller, denser.

“Wait,” she called out sharply. “Where are you going?”

But it had vanished.

A man slipped into her presence, silent as a windless sky. He leaned against a cypress, arms folded, face and body as unyielding and hard as the ancient tree. Eyes and hair were black as the night, and the only lightness on his figure was a golden sheen on his face and arms.

Friend or foe?

Silence blanketed her mind. A condition she normally welcomed, but not now. Where was her accursed ability when she needed it? Not the slightest syllable of sound surrounded the man.

“Who are you?” she asked, hoping her voice didn’t portray fear.

He stepped closer, and she willed her feet to remain rooted to the ground, to cloak the fear.

“Who are you?” His voice was deep, sharp-edged with suspicion.

She’d been wrong. The golden sheen of his skin wasn’t the only thing that stood out in the darkness. The man’s eyes radiated a copper glint like an encapsulated sun with rays. His teeth were white and sharp.

He didn’t wait for an answer. “Who were you talking to? There’s no one else out here but us.”

“I was talking to myself,” she lied. No sense exposing herself to ridicule.

“Roaming the woods alone at night and talking to yourself?” He scowled. “You must be crazy.”

Despite the scowl and rough tone, the icy touch of fear at the base of her spine thawed a bit. This stranger could think what he wanted about her mental health and lecture her ad nauseam about the idiotic decision to follow the wisp. At least he wasn’t attacking her. If he meant harm, he could have lunged forward and grabbed her by now.

“Yes.” Annie agreed. “I’m totally off my rocker.” Wouldn’t be the first time someone thought that. “How about being a good Boy Scout and help me find my way home?”

“First, tell me your name and why you’re out here.”

“Fine. My name’s Annie Matthews, and I saw a strange light from my bedroom window. Like an idiot, I decided to check it out. Now, can you please get me out of here?”

He stared, those strange copper rays in his irises warming her insides. Abruptly, he turned his back and stepped away.

What a jerk. Annie’s lips tightened to a pinched line. “Hey—wait a minute. Are you going to help me or not?”

The man didn’t even look back but motioned with an arm for her to follow.

She let out a huge sigh. Jerk or not, her best bet was to follow him out of the swamp. Annie stumbled after him and onto the barest sliver of a trail. The narrow footpath was canopied by pines and oaks, obscuring the full-moon light. Her toe caught under a tree root, and she pitched forward, free-falling. She braced herself for the impact of packed dirt to face.

Strong arms grabbed the sides of her waist, and her chest bumped solid flesh. Annie raised her chin and stared deeply into the brown eyes. “Th-thank you,” she whispered. His hands above her hips held fast, steadying her—burning her. Annie’s hands rested lightly on his chest, and she couldn’t move or speak.

A low, thudding bass note, a drumbeat, pounded in her ears. Was it from her heart beating faster, or was sound escaping his controlled aura?

“I forget you can’t see like me.” He took one of her hands in his. “Stay close.”

Before she could object or ask what his remark meant, he pulled her forward.

She should be terrified alone in the woods with a stranger.

But for the first time since hearing the voice inside the wisp, Annie felt safe.

The narrow trail of dense shrubs and overarching tree limbs gave way to a wider, more open trail illuminated by the Thunder Moon. It was as if he were leading her down a silent passage that exited a nightmare.

At the edge of the tree line lay an open field. Weeds and brambles rippled, silver-tipped from moonbeams and glistening like drops of water dancing on waves. A glow flickered in Grandma Tia’s cottage, a lighthouse beam signaling home.

Annie glanced at the man’s chiseled profile. Harsh, fierce even. Handsome seemed too pretty a word to describe him. He was powerful, a force of the night.

“Beyond this field is a dirt road that leads to County Road 143. Know where you are now?”

She laughed, giddy with relief, and pointed to the cottage. “Of course. That’s my grandma’s house. Her name’s Tia Henrietta. Maybe you’ve met her before?”

“The witch in the woods?” Surprise flickered in his eyes. “I should have guessed. Are you one, as well?”

She tugged her hand away from his. “No more than you.”

His hand reached out and stroked the red flannel mojo pouch belted at her waist. “What magic is this?”

“Gris-gris bags. My grandma makes them. For protection.”

“Didn’t work, huh?”

“Sure it did. It brought you to me, and then you brought me home.”

His lips curled. “I don’t know what kind of magic your grandmother claims to have, but that pouch didn’t help you when the will-o’-the-wisp conjured you into the woods.”

“What do you know of them?” she asked, burning with curiosity now the danger had passed.

He ignored her question. “So you followed this light. What happened next?”

She bit her lip. “Looks like I’m the one doing all the talking. How about I tell you one thing, then you tell me one thing?”

He nodded. “Deal.”

“Okay, then. The light disappeared a few minutes. When it came back, something inside it spoke.” Annie took a deep breath. This wasn’t easy to talk about. This was partly what alienated her from everyone. The crazy sticker on her forehead.

But the man didn’t flinch. “What did it say?”

Annie hedged. Once again, she was doing most of the talking. “Tell me your name.”

“Tombi. Tombi Silver.”

She inhaled sharply, and his eyes narrowed.

“What is it?” he demanded.

“The voice. It mentioned you by name.”

He leaned in and grabbed her arms, not bruising-hard, but enough so that she couldn’t run away. “What. Did. It. Say?”

What the hell. This wouldn’t be the first time she’d been used as a conduit for messages. Best to relay it and get on with her life. Otherwise, the wisp or spirit, or whatever that thing was, would keep appearing in some form or another until it had its way.

“It said you were in great danger and to trust no one, not even in your inner circle. That there’s a betrayer in your ranks, and if you were ever his true friend you need to find the betrayer, so he can be released.”

She didn’t think it possible the man—Tombi—could look fiercer, but he did. He let go of her and shook his head.

“No. I don’t believe you.”

Annie hitched her shoulders and raised her palms. “Fine. But that’s what the thing told me.”

“Did it have a name?”

“Bo.”

* * *

Ringing flooded Tombi’s ears. There’s worse things than witches. Much worse.

“What did Bo say?”

Annie recoiled, and he realized he was shouting. With great effort, he lowered his voice. “Tell me what he said.”

“He’s trapped inside a wisp and wants you to free him.”

Guilt and anger heaved in his stomach. “I’ve been trying to find him for weeks. Why didn’t he come to me? I was his best friend.”

Bo. His blood brother and childhood comrade. Always reliable. Always quick with the jokes and the laughter. And the only man who could make Tallulah laugh. His sister hadn’t smiled in months. Not since Bo died. Sometimes he wondered if she ever would again.

“Was your best friend?” Annie’s eyes rounded. “What happened to him?”

Tombi gritted his teeth. Oh, she looked innocent enough. Standing there in her flower-print T-shirt and drawstring pajama shorts. Brown hair tumbling in waves down to her hips. At first glance, she’d appeared a mere slip of a girl—skinny and all legs.

His eyes shifted to the fullness of her breasts and slight swelling of her hips. Definitely a woman. A very sexy woman. Not that it mattered. Evil spirits roamed in many guises.

“He died. Snakebite.” He watched her closely, checking for signs of guilt or glee.

She shuddered. “That’s horrible.”

“Died right where I found you tonight.”

Annie crossed her arms and looked downward apprehensively. “I hate snakes. Was it a rattler or a water moccasin?”

“Rattler. He died alone out there in the woods.” How many times had he imagined Bo’s horrible death? Imagined him feeling the rapid, burning spread of venom in his veins, knowing he was doomed.

Tombi drew a rasping breath. “He shouldn’t have had to die alone.”

“Nobody should,” she agreed. “How—how did he get trapped in a wisp?”

“You really don’t know?” he asked sharply.

“No.” She squared her shoulders. “I’ve only been out here a few weeks visiting my grandma. Lots of weirdness down here, even more than usual this summer. Stuff I’ve never seen before. Or heard.”

“About what you heard...what did Bo say exactly?”

“I told you. There’s a betrayer in your ranks. He wanted me to warn you of danger.”

A likely story. Wasn’t that the way evil sank its fangs into people? It insinuated and manipulated fear and mistrust where none existed. Until you became paranoid and relied only on your own wits for survival. He’d seen it so many times over the past few years.

“I don’t believe you.”

She shrugged. “Suit yourself. Don’t shoot me, I’m just the messenger.”

“You always go around hearing voices?” he sneered.

“Yes.”

Her quick, short response surprised him. “You do?”

“You already think I’m a witch, so—what the hell—yes, I hear things. Not voices usually. I hear music around people.”

“Music?” He snorted. What kind of strange magic was this?

Her lips compressed in a thin line. “It’s what drew me to the woods tonight. I heard the most beautiful music—it sounded like fairy bells.”

Tombi considered Annie’s words. “Did you smell anything?”

“Hmm? No. Not unless you count the constant smell of the ocean. Do the wisps have a certain smell?”

“They can. Will-o’-wisps appeal to different people different ways.” With him, they tried to mask their foul odor under the clean, sweet scent of balsam fir. He’d learned not to be drawn in by it.

“Your turn,” she said, casting him a curious look. “What are you doing running around the woods in the middle of the night?”

“Chasing shadows.” A half-truth.

Annie scowled. “Not fair. I answered your questions.”

As if there were anything fair about life.

The silhouette of an old woman appeared at the cottage window. Impossible to see her facial expression from this distance, but the prickling of his forearm skin alerted Tombi that she watched. Somehow, through distance and darkness, the old lady’s eyes clamped upon them.

Witch.

And this Annie girl was Tia Henrietta’s direct descendant. She was a perfect target for the dark spirit ruler and his host of creatures, potentially more valuable than a normal human who possessed no sensory power whatsoever. Had she been tainted yet by evil? Despite her scowl and crossed arms, she looked as harmless as a kitten with her big, wide eyes and skinny arms and legs.

Don’t be fooled by appearances. Tombi met her challenge with evasion. “There’s evil and dark shadows in the bayou that you’ve never imagined. If you’re not part of it, best you don’t learn.”

She cocked her head to one side and stilled, as if listening to something he couldn’t hear.

“What is it?” Tombi asked sharply. “Do you hear something?”

She nodded. “It’s faint, but distinct.”

Could this girl really hear others’ auras? Tombi shifted his feet and concentrated on containing his energy. The only sound in the night was the constant rolling of distant waves and the eternal screech of insects.

“It’s gone now,” Annie said. “But I heard your aura. Finally. I’ve never run across someone that I couldn’t.”

An undertow of intrigue tugged his mind. “Well? What do I sound like to you?”

“Drumming. A deep bass note. Steady as a heartbeat.”

He studied the delicate features of her face, the heart-shaped chin, small nose and wide brown eyes beneath arched brows. Air charged between them, an unexpected sexual energy that rolled over him. The jackhammer beating of his heart exploded through his normal wall of self-control. The darkening of Annie’s brown eyes said she heard it. Her gaze dropped to his lips, and Tombi leaned in...

“Annie?”

The old lady’s voice cut through the night. It felt like ice water dousing his fevered skin. At the cottage, Annie’s grandmother leaned her considerable girth half out of the window.

“Whatcha doin’ out there? Who’s that with ya?” she yelled.

Soft, moist heat brushed his left jaw. Startled, his gaze returned to Annie.

“Thank you for bringing me home.” Her voice was breathless, and her hair was tousled and wild. She stretched up on tiptoes and planted another quick, chaste kiss on his cheek. “I have to go now.”

Annie ran through the moon-silvered field, and he followed her slight figure until she entered the cottage. Bemused, he lifted a hand and traced his chin and jaw where her lips had momentarily caressed his skin. The memory of those quick kisses left him feeling anything but chaste. Why had she kissed him?

The light in the cottage blinked out, but Tombi lingered, reluctant to resume his hunt. For a small interlude, Annie had pricked through his armor, had touched something deep inside.

Bewitched him.


Chapter 2 (#ulink_e488cb08-ca2d-52ab-aa64-5537e34aa5f3)

Why had she kissed him?

True, he’d saved her from spending the night in the swamp, but he’d been evasive. Even accused her of being a witch.

But she’d been irresistibly pulled to his masculine strength, in a way she’d never experienced before. Kissing strangers was a novelty. Best to place the blame on the Thunder Moon and forget it ever happened. With a deep sigh, Annie shook off the question. It was done. Over. She might never see Tombi again. And she certainly would never go back into the night woods chasing will-o’-the-wisps.

Filled with resolve, she returned to preparing a new batch of mojo bags designed for attracting the opposite sex. Grandma Tia had awoken this morning declaring they would be in demand today, and supplies were getting low. Annie crushed lovage leaves with a mortar and pestle, releasing its unique lime and celery fragrance.

The cramped kitchen could almost be mistaken for one set in medieval times. Dried herbs from their garden hung from the ceiling. The countertops were wooden, as were the floors, table and cabinets. On the pine table, Annie had spread out over a dozen pink flannel mojo bags and mason jars filled with dried flowers and spices.

She emptied the freshly ground lovage into a new jar, humming contentedly. Next, she took a pinch of powdered substance from each jar and placed it in the bags, along with a sprinkle of salt and a tiny magnet. The base ingredients were set. Her grandma would personalize each bag as needed.

The murmur of conversation from the living room grew louder. Grandma Tia’s voice was low and calm, in contrast to the other woman’s high-pitched agitation.

“That hussy knew Jeb was my man, and it didn’t make no bit a difference to her.”

Every syllable of the woman’s words buzzed like angry bees in Annie’s ears. She hummed louder to block the buzzing and opened the pantry, which was lined with shelves of different-colored mojo bags, stones, nails, oils, graveyard dirt and hunks of dirt-dauber nests. A few murky jars were filled with liquid the color of swamp water, and she shuddered to think of what unsavory ingredients her grandma used in other kinds of spells.

Tia Henrietta popped her head in the door. “I need that there—”

Annie plucked two items from the shelf and held them out. “Here’s twine and a vial of Stay Me oil. You need to add these to one of the pink bags for a Taking-Back-Yer-Man spell. Right?”

“You a quick learner, child.” Grandma Tia gave a broad wink before closing the door behind her.

Annie shook her head in bemusement. It wasn’t too hard to learn the hoodoo basics. Grandma Tia had explained there were certain common spells: one for getting back a lover (mostly female customers), another for gambling luck (mostly men) and another for revenge or blocking enemies (popular with both sexes). That was in addition to using the all-purpose good-luck charms and cleansing waters she concocted.

The front door slammed shut, and Annie watched the wronged woman march to her sedan, tightly clenching the mojo bag in her right fist. The hapless Jeb didn’t stand a chance against her determination to cure him of his wandering ways. What a relief Grandma hadn’t insisted she join them for the consultation. Lately, Grandma Tia had been making her meet customers, saying she needed to come out of her shell. But she’d given her a break today and let her putter about the kitchen, allowing her to get her bearings after last night.

The teakettle whistled, and Annie poured steaming water into two mugs and carried them on a tray into the living room.

Her grandma was sprawled on the sofa, head in her hands.

“What’s wrong?” Annie hurried forward and set the mugs on the coffee table.

Tia brought her hands down and smiled wanly. “Nothing. I’ll be just fine after tea.”

“It’s your heart, isn’t it?” Annie asked, helping her sit up and placing a pillow behind her back.

“Cain’t expect it to last forever.” Grandma Tia mixed a dollop of honey into the hawthorn-berry tea. “This will revive me right nice.”

But one day it wouldn’t. Annie nervously adjusted the pillow.

As if reading her mind, Tia spoke again. “Don’t you worry ’bout me. I’m ready to meet my maker anytime He calls.”

What would she do without her grandma? Her real home was here in Bayou La Siryna, always had been. Here she wasn’t surrounded by people and their constant cacophony of sound and music. Unwanted sounds she’d never learned to mute or tune out. And if Grandma Tia died, there went all hope of learning to control it.

Annie sat on the couch, legs crossed, and sipped coffee. None of that slimy grass-tasting herbal tea for her. Her right leg jittered in rhythm with the tumbled whirling of her brain.

“Ain’t hard to guess what yer thinkin’.”

Annie cursed the guilty flush that heated her face. No use denying her one-track wish. “I can’t believe there’s nothing you can do to help me. There must be something.”

“Why would you be wantin’ to block a gift?” Tia clicked her tongue in disapproval. “One day you gonna be thanking the blessed saints for that hearing of yers.”

“It’s ruining my life. Why can’t you see that?” Annie set down her drink and stood, pacing the floorboards. This time guilt did more than stain her cheeks; it burned her heart. Grandma Tia probably wasn’t long for this world, and Annie was impatient and snippy with the one person in the world who best understood and accepted her peculiarity.

“I’m going outside to cool off,” she announced, using her last bit of self-control not to slam the door on the way out.

Cool off? What a joke. The humidity slapped her as soon as she stepped onto the porch. Annie sat down and stared at the gigantic live oaks draped with moss. Beautiful in a gothic, eerie kind of way. Burning cement cooked her butt, and she shifted her seating position.

Maybe it had been a mistake to come again this year after all. Still, she couldn’t bear the thought of her grandma living alone. And Mama had wanted no part of traveling down here, saying she’d rather go to hell than come back to Alabama.

So she sent me instead. Dear mom had jumped at the chance to get her weird daughter out of the house and out of her hair.

It certainly was hot as Hades down here. And the gazillion buzzing, stinging insects in the bayou were the devil’s own reward. Annie swiped at a mosquito sucking her forearm.

A whisper of song blew from the treetops and teased her ears. The plaintive, haunting beauty of it was unlike anything she’d ever heard. It was as pure as a dulcimer’s plucking. The notes warbled like a bird’s call and bubbled like water gurgling through rocks.

Annie half rose and then sat back down with a groan. This music was different from the will-o’-the-wisp’s eerily luring tune, but she wasn’t going to be fooled into returning to the woods. Tombi had claimed evil dwelled there. A dangerous place swarming with snakes and spirits. Just the thought of snakes was enough to keep her rooted to the porch.

The screen door creaked open on rusty hinges, and Grandma Tia framed the doorway.

“Somethin’ calling ya to go in them woods again.”

Annie narrowed her eyes. For all her savvy acumen in eking out an existence bartering mojo bags and spells for groceries and other necessities, her grandma really did have an unsettling sixth sense.

“I won’t be drawn into the woods again,” Annie assured her. “Once was bad enough.”

“This time, you should go.”

Annie snorted. “Tombi said there was evil out there. Besides, I hate snakes, and I imagine the woods are full of them.”

“It’s still daylight. Yer Tombi will protect ya.”

“Why do you trust this stranger? You’ve never even met him.”

Again, the fluting notes of music drifted and tempted. They chirruped and whistled like a bird in flight.

“You hear that?” Annie asked, looking toward the woods.

Tia shook her head. “Not a thing.”

Annie stood and lightly brushed the rear of her jeans. Gritty sand and red clay dust permeated every surface outdoors. “You think Tombi’s out there now?”

Tia’s eyes danced. “He been out there most of the day, hoping to see ya.”

She couldn’t stop the delicious shiver that vibrated along her spine. Annie cocked her head to the side, studying Tia. “You sure he’s trustworthy?”

“I have a good feelin’ ’bout him.”

Still, Annie hesitated. Grandma’s sixth sense wasn’t infallible. She often leaned on the side of reckless and trusting.

“You want everyone to come to you. Just like you search for answers to yer problems outside of yerself.” Tia patted her ample chest. “Sometimes you gots to take heart and just rise up to yer problems.”

Even her old grandma thought she was gutless. Annie straightened her shoulders. “Fine. If I don’t make it home tonight, send out a search party.”

She marched into the woods, her posture rigid as a stone column, knowing her grandma watched. “Might as well have called me a coward,” she muttered, stomping through tall weeds and red dirt. Once inside the woods, Annie leaned against a tree, closed her eyes and fully opened her senses, straining to catch the pure music she’d heard on the porch steps.

Cascading trills floated through the swamp. The same pure melody that had captured her attention from the cottage. “Here I go again,” she said with a sigh, carefully making her way along a thin trail almost eclipsed by dense shrubs on either side. But daylight, and Grandma Tia’s urging to follow the music, gave her a measure of confidence.

The notes grew louder, more fluid and enchanting. Annie rounded a bend and recognized the water bank where she’d drifted last evening.

A man sat on a fallen tree limb, playing some sort of reed instrument. Although his naked, broad back faced her, Annie sensed it was Tombi. She wasn’t Tia Henrietta’s granddaughter for nothing.

Staring at his sleek, muscled torso made her throat and mouth dry. She licked her lips and swallowed hard. She’d bet her grandma’s pantry full of hoodoo charms that Tombi had women follow him everywhere. The Pied Piper of Bayou La Siryna.

The music stopped. In one fluid motion, like a dance of danger, Tombi jumped to his feet and whirled around, a dagger gleaming in his right fist. The wooden instrument he played dangled loosely in his left hand. Warrior and musician melded into one. His face was taut, and his eyes instantly fixed on her.

Whoa. Annie threw up her hands and took an involuntary step backward. For all she knew, Tombi might have deliberately summoned her with the music, luring her to him against her better judgment. She’d done the same thing following the will-o’-the-wisps last night.

Tombi slowly lowered the dagger and secured it in the leather sheath belted at his waist, never breaking his gaze. “You came back,” he said in a flat tone.

He didn’t act like a man hoping to see her, as Grandma Tia had claimed.

“I had to. You never told me your story.” Annie walked forward and nodded at the dagger. “You always this uptight?”

“These woods are full of danger.”

“Really? Because even my grandma thinks it’s perfectly safe out here during the day.”

He frowned and crossed his arms. “It used to be.”

A series of scars tattooed the smooth, muscular plane of his chest and shoulders, distracting her from his unsettling response. “Have you been in knife fights?” she blurted.

Tombi grabbed the T-shirt on the log and swiftly pulled it on.

“I’m sorry.” Annie was horrified at her rudeness. “I shouldn’t have asked.”

“I’m not ashamed of them,” he said gruffly. He nodded at the log. “Sit.”

Her embarrassment faded. “I don’t take commands like a dog,” she said, lifting her chin.

A ghost of a smile flitted the corners of his lips, so fleeting she might have dreamed it had been there. He bowed his head a fraction before he sat down, but didn’t apologize.

Annie gestured to the surrounding trees. “So, what’s the danger? Are the wisps malicious or something? I mean, your friend sounded sad and desperate to me—not evil.”

“In real life, Bo was all that was true and good.”

“And now?” she prompted.

“Remains to be seen.” He studied her, eyes narrowed and unflinching.

Annie smoothed the tumble of curls away from her face. “What do you mean?”

“It’s hard to tell good from evil sometimes.”

“Do you see everything so black-and-white? Surely there’s a dozen shades of gray in between.”

“No.” His jaw muscles clenched. “You’re either with me or you are with Nalusa.”

“Nah-loosa?” she asked, testing the unfamiliar word.

“Nalusa Falaya—it means ‘long black being’ in Choctaw. He’s a spirit that resembles a man, but he can shape-shift into different forms.”

Annie drew a circle in the dirt with the toe of her sneaker. Root working—the conjure magick of her grandma—was one thing...but this? It sounded like an old Native American tale invented to keep children close to camp and away from the dark unknown.

“You don’t believe me.” Tombi picked up a large stick on the ground by their feet and flung it violently. It hit a tall oak and splintered with a crack as loud as gunfire.

Annie sidled away from the heat of his anger, not wanting to be singed by his sudden wrath. “I really should head back home,” she offered in a small voice.

“It’s real,” Tombi said harshly. “Nalusa exists. And he can change into snake form. And I believe that wasn’t any ordinary snake that killed Bo. It was Nalusa.”

“So, now you’re out here trying to hunt this Nalusa down. For revenge.” She backed away slowly, not wanting to set him off again. “Got it.”

Tombi also stood. “Not just me. There’s a whole tribe of us.”

More people who shared his delusion? She glanced around uneasily, hoping she wasn’t about to be ambushed by a group of demented, make-believe warriors.

“I know it sounds crazy, but it’s true. C’mon, you saw the will-o’-the-wisps last night with your own eyes. Remember?”

Annie rubbed her arms. He certainly had her there. “Okay,” she reluctantly conceded. “I admit there are things I know nothing of. I’d rather keep it that way, too.”

His brow furrowed. “Whether you ignore Nalusa or not, he still exists.”

“Yeah, well, I’d rather not make his acquaintance. I have enough problems as it is.”

Alarm flickered in his dark eyes. “But Bo spoke to you. You have to help us.”

Annie shrugged and took a step backward. The last thing she needed was to get caught up in his personal crusade for revenge. “Come, see my grandma one day. She’ll do a protection spell if you like.” She plastered on a smile and waved. “Nice seeing you. Thanks again for helping me find my way home last night.”

Two steps and her shoulders tensed at the heavy pressure of his palms bearing down, barring an easy exit. Damn. He wasn’t going to make retreat easy. Tombi guided her back around to face him.

“We need you, Annie.” He swallowed. “Please.”

She could tell the plea wasn’t easy for Tombi. Pride and dignity announced their presence in the strong jaw and stiff posture.

“But I doubt I’ll ever hear Bo again,” she protested. “I have no plans to be lured back into the woods by the wisps.”

“The wisps are controlled by Nalusa. But as long as you’re with me, I’ll protect you. I promise.”

His words were deep and solemn. No doubt he would do his best to protect those on his side.

“I believe you.”

“Good. Then come with me and—”

She shook her head and backed away. This wasn’t her battle. “No. Sorry. I don’t want to get involved.”

Tombi glared at her, and his full lips compressed to a tight line. Evidently, he was a man used to getting his own way.

Too bad.

* * *

Stubborn woman.

Tombi took a deep breath to calm his temper. Somehow, he had to convince this slip of a girl to help him. Maybe... His gaze dropped to her lips. Those lips that had unexpectedly kissed him last night. Annie felt the attraction between them. He could use that to his advantage. Tombi slid his palms down her arms and urged her forward. So close their bodies almost touched.

Her brown eyes widened and darkened into black pools of desire. She raised her hands and placed them against his chest. Yes, this might be so easy. So pleasurable.

Later, he couldn’t say who moved first. All he knew was that their lips met and their hands explored one another. Her fingers traced the bulge of his biceps, then kneaded the muscles along his spine.

Tombi stroked the thin shoulder blades on her back, ran his calloused fingers through her soft curls. She was so petite, so delicate. Fragile enough he wondered if it might hurt her should he release his full passion.

A tiny, whimpering moan cut through his reservations. She wanted him. Tombi lowered his hands until they cupped her ass. That cute ass that he’d watched walk away last night and that he’d pictured ever since. He squeezed, letting Annie feel his desire press against her core.

She moaned again. Or was that him this time? It didn’t matter.

“Stop.” Annie stepped out of his embrace and hugged her belly. “Sorry. It’s just...this is too fast. I barely know you.”

He stared at her, willing his heartbeat to slow and his brain to catch up to her words. “It’s okay,” he said, running a hand through his hair. “I understand.”

“Thank you,” she whispered, turning and making her way down the path.

Tombi shook his head to clear it. He was supposed to use their attraction to convince her to work with him. Somehow, he’d lost control, and Annie was slipping away from him once more. He couldn’t let that happen. He—rather, his people—needed her skill in communicating with the shilup, the human spirits that wandered the land of the ghosts. Bo’s spirit had been captured by the wisps, and remembering the plight of his trapped friend cooled his fever.

“Wait,” he called to Annie’s retreating figure.

She turned and gazed at him expectantly.

What could he offer her? This was his fight. Not hers. She was right to not get involved. Yet, Nalusa grew stronger every day, and they were desperate to stop his spread of power in Bayou La Siryna. Just last week, Nalusa had gone farther away from the swamp and invaded the heart and mind of one of his hunters while he was asleep in his own bed. Marcus had even entertained thoughts of suicide but wisely had called Tombi for help, recognizing that Nalusa was at the root of his despair.

Tombi scrambled to recall the bits and pieces of conversation with Annie, searching for an angle. He remembered her troubled face as she mentioned hearing other people’s auras.

“What if I could help you?”

Her lips twisted with suspicion. “Help me with what?”

He approached Annie, confident of victory. “You want to control your sense of hearing. Correct?”

Her body and eyes lit up. “Really? You can help with that?”

“Really. You told me how surprised you were when we first met because you couldn’t detect any sound from my aura.”

“I remember.”

“That’s because I control my energy field most of the time. I can teach you to do the same.”

“And that will help me block unwanted sound?”

He had no idea. But it seemed logical. “Absolutely,” he said with conviction.

“And if I help you, you promise to protect me?”

“I do.”

Annie looked down to the ground, and Tombi held his breath, awaiting her answer.

“I’m in,” she said in a rush.


Chapter 3 (#ulink_c7aaec96-5255-564a-81fe-0f9ccc91e850)

What had she gotten herself into? She wanted a normal life, but what good was that if she was killed in the process? But she had to try. She had to trust that Tombi would protect her.

Grandma Tia had been no help, and no matter how many spells and strips of paper she burned under the full moon, nothing changed. If anything, her hearing grew stronger, more disruptive.

Tombi nodded. “Great. We begin now.”

Hope bubbled through her like uncorked champagne on New Year’s Eve. She was about to start a new life. Do all those things she’d longed to do: get a real job, be around people and relate normally. Simple acts most people took for granted.

He turned and beckoned her to follow.

“Where are we going?” she asked happily. No waiting for the full moon this time. Hope had arisen right here in the midafternoon sunshine. “Is there a special place for a spell? Like an energy vortex or something?” She hurried along the path.

He shot an incredulous look over his shoulder. “What are you babbling about?”

“I’m curious how you’re going to do this. I think Grandma Tia never helped me because she didn’t know how, though she would never admit it.”

“We aren’t casting any spells.”

“Are you taking me to a special healer, then? Like a shaman?”

He sighed loudly and planted his feet so abruptly she plowed into his back.

He turned and steadied her. “We’re going to my camp, so you can meet the other hunters. I want to know who that betrayer is. If there is one.”

Annie’s eyes narrowed. “So, you won’t help me until I help you first.”

“That’s right.”

Worry quickly overcame her frustration. “But what if I can’t pick up anything from them?”

“You will,” he said confidently. “I’m the best in the group at controlling my energy, yet you picked up the drumming.”

“But it was only a drumming sound. Nothing good or bad about it,” she protested.

“True, but it picked up something of my nature. A primitive beat passed down through my ancestry.”

“Don’t get your hopes up,” she muttered, picking her way carefully through the prickly saw palmettos and dense underbrush. Tombi kept a slower pace today, albeit still a brisk one. “Tell me about these other hunters.”

The more she knew going in, the less nervous she would be. Annie hated meeting new people, especially in a group situation where each aura would jumble with the others into a confusing din.

“We’re down to four in the inner circle since Bo died. Me, Chulah, Hanan and my sister, Tallulah.”

“So, what is it you actually do? How do you fight Nalusa and his shadow spirits?”

Tombi didn’t answer right away. “It’s something you would have to see and be a part of to really understand.”

Meaning he didn’t want to say any more on the subject. Great. Fine by her. The less she knew, the fewer nightmares she’d dream. She’d help him find the betrayer, and he’d help her control hearing auras. Then she could have the normal life she craved, and he could...maybe win his battle. Get revenge for his friend’s death. They could both move on.

They continued until the path widened, and she spotted over two dozen tents pitched in a field. They were arranged in a circle, and in the middle of it all was a thin stream of smoke that wafted upward from a modest fire. The acrid smell of burning oak stirred her with a sense of home and cozy evenings warming by the fireplace.

“You all must be great friends,” she said, picturing them telling stories in the evening by campfire, sharing a bond of fighting evil. They were all part of something bigger than themselves. For a moment, it made her own dream seem small and selfish.

And he wanted her to come into this...this tight group of friends and point the finger at one of them? Annie rubbed the unexpected chill on her arms. She wasn’t sure what she feared most: being unable to recognize the betrayer, or singling out someone and facing their collective wrath.

Nobody would thank her for disrupting their alliance, that was for sure. She peeked at Tombi’s stern profile, took in his long, slightly hooked nose, pronounced jaws and cheekbones, and heavy brows. What was his role in this band of hunters?

“Your name’s unusual. What does it mean?” she asked abruptly, hoping to learn more about him.

“Ray of light.”

Annie snorted, and he raised a brow. “What?”

She couldn’t help but giggle. “You’re no ray of sunshine.”

He stared at her blankly before a rusty rumble of laughter escaped his mouth, as if it had been years since one last escaped. “At one time, my people worshiped the sun, so to be named after its ray is a great honor.”

“What about your friend Bo? Is that a good ole Southern name as in B-e-a-u, short for Beauregard?”

“No. It’s B-o, short for Bohpoli. That’s Choctaw for ‘thrower.’”

Would she ever hear Bo again? She shivered, remembering his plaintive pleas for help.

Although their movements were quiet and their voices low, they had attracted attention. A woman and three men solemnly filed out of the tent circle and stood in the center, awaiting their approach with unsmiling faces.

Holy hoodoo, this was going to be even tougher than she imagined.

Annie tugged the back of Tombi’s T-shirt, and he frowned down at her. “What?”

“Have you told them anything about me?”

“We tell each other everything.”

She groaned. “Terrific. Bet they can’t wait to meet me. I wish you hadn’t told them.”

“There should be no secrets among my hunters. No doubts or suspicions about the man—or woman—you have to depend on for your life.”

Her shoulders slumped. She couldn’t argue with his logic, although she resented the situation he’d put her in. They walked onward several minutes, not speaking.

Tombi abruptly halted and frowned her way. “You care so much what others think?”

“Of course I care.” She thought of all the times people had skirted around her in school hallways or outright laughed in her face. She’d watched from the sidelines in the purgatory that was high school, unsure which she craved more—the huddling conspiracy of a group of girlfriends to share secrets and fun times with, or some cute guy to take her to dinner and a movie and whisper sweet seductions in the back of a car. “Everyone cares.”

He shrugged. “Not me.”

Easy for him to say—with his looks he probably had any woman he wanted. And he had a tribe of like-minded friends and family. Why should he give any thought to what was so easily granted to him?

Annie reluctantly walked beside him, trying to emulate his mask of calm. They came to a halt six feet in front of the group.

“This is Annie Matthews.” Tombi gestured to the left with his hand. “This is Tallulah, Hanan and Chula.”

The silence roared in her, air compressing and as stifling as a sealed coffin. They formed a firewall of mistrust and resentment, shutting her out of their circle. Annie sucked in her breath at the glittering hostility in Tallulah’s obsidian eyes. Nearly as tall as her brother, she bore the same long face, chiseled features and strong chin. It shouldn’t have worked for a female, and while she wasn’t beautiful in a Miss America or girl-next-door kind of way, Tallulah was striking and commanded attention. Annie barely took in the stoic features of the other three men.

Tallulah put her hands on her hips. “Well?”

“W-well what?” Annie stammered. She glanced at Tombi in a silent plea for help.

“Go ahead,” Tallulah challenged. “I dare you to point a finger at any one of us. You don’t know—”

“Enough,” Tombi cut in.

The man next to her—Chula—lightly touched Tallulah’s forearm, and a whisper as tender as a lullaby brushed over Annie at the gesture.

“We already debated this last night and agreed to meet Annie. Let’s get this over with.” Hanan pinned Annie with a hard stare, and the whisper of sound vanished. “The sooner, the better.”

Annie swallowed hard at their collective stare. Talk about being on the spot.

“It’s not that easy. I have to be around you for a bit.” She cast another look at Tombi. “Can we all sit together by the fire?”

Tombi nodded, and she followed him to the middle of the pitched tents, the others following in silence behind them.

In the center was a stack of firewood coated in ash. Colorful wool blankets were spread in a circle around the campfire. They each went to a blanket and sat, except Tombi. “You can have my blanket,” he said, pointing to one. “I’ll stand.”

She sank down and crossed her feet beneath her. Annie tried to relax and open her senses, but it was difficult as the others stared at her expectantly. As if she was some kind of circus performer. She closed her eyes, more to shut out their stares than out of necessity.

The unnatural quiet unnerved her. How did they do it? They each had some type of guard up, some way of blocking their music. Her palms gripped her knees. Very well. She’d try to wait them out, see if any sound escaped.

The vibrations of a deep rumbling laugh iced down her spine. Witch. The word was an accusation, underlain with mirth. Be gone, little girl.

Annie opened her eyes and met their curious, blank stares. “Did you hear that laugh? That voice?”

No one spoke.

Tombi uncrossed his arms and sat beside her on the blanket. “What did you hear?”

She bit her lip. Had the laugh and the words come from one of the hunters, or was there something else out there? Something just beyond the ring of trees and the safety of the fire where shadows lengthened and danced?

Annie shook her head slightly and closed her eyes again. Silence blanketed her as thick and unrelenting as a stone wall. It was hopeless. Nothing else was coming through that wall.

She opened her eyes. “I don’t know how y’all do it, but I’m impressed.”

“Do what?” Chula asked.

“Close off your energy.” Annie turned to Tombi. “Isn’t that how you described it? Keeping everything closed in?”

Tallulah made an impatient tsk sound. “Why did you tell this girl our secrets? For all we know, she could be one of them.”

“One of who?” Annie asked.

“Don’t act so innocent,” Tallulah snapped. “If there’s someone controlled by the dark side, my guess is that it’s you.”

Annie rose to her feet and took in their hostile stares. “I didn’t have to tell Tombi what I heard last night. I didn’t ask Bo to seek me out. And I certainly don’t have to take your attitude.”

She stalked off. Screw them. She’d tried. Not her fault if they had some special power to resist her hearing.

Dry grass crunched in the parched soil behind her. Tombi stepped to her side and walked, matching her pace.

“I’m not going back there,” she spat, “so don’t try to talk me into it.”

He said nothing but walked in front of her as they reentered the narrow path. He held back branches to keep them from slapping her in the face. A snapping, crackling sound simmered in the air swirling around him, like dry brush catching fire.

“You’re angry with me,” Annie said. “I really did try. But your sister...” She tried to collect her temper. She still needed his help and insulting Tallulah wouldn’t serve her cause. “You are going to help me. Right?”

* * *

She looked desperate, but Tombi hardened his heart. He wasn’t about to give up. Not as long as Bo was trapped and not as long as Nalusa and the other shadow spirits grew and trespassed the ancient boundaries.

“Eventually,” he promised. “What did you hear back there?”

“Nothing that can help you.”

Tombi stopped in his tracks and folded his arms against his chest. “Might as well spit it out. I’ll be out in these woods through the night anyhow.”

“Do you live out here all the time?”

“Only one week out of the month, around the full moon.”

Her dark eyes widened. “We believe in the power of the full moon, too.”

“We?”

“My grandmother and I.” She swallowed. “And others like us.”

“Other witches?”

“Why must you put labels on people?” she countered. “We’re known by many names, and we all have different practices—root workers, healers, pagans and, okay, witches.”

“Do they all hear as you do?”

Her full lips twisted in a scowl. “No. I’m the lucky one.”

Tombi shook off his fascination with Annie and her kind. “You neatly skirted my question. What did you hear back there?”

She sighed, realizing he would interrogate until she answered his question. “A laugh. Not a funny one, but the laugh of the evil or crazy or demented. And then...the voice called me a witch and told me to go away.”

Tombi considered her words. He hated knowing Nalusa knew of Annie and her gift and their connection, but Nalusa must be worried to warn her off. That was, if Annie wasn’t in league with him to start with.

“So, just like that, you’re giving up?”

She winced at the sharp edge of his tone. “The attitude of your sister and your friends didn’t make me want to stay and try harder.”

He grew hot thinking of Tallulah’s antagonism. Annie didn’t deserve to be treated that way. Even if he had his own suspicions, nothing would be gained by hostility.

“They can’t help but be suspicious of strangers. Time and again, Nalusa has gained a foothold over people, even if only temporarily. Made them say and do things they wouldn’t normally do.”

Annie lifted her chin. “I can assure you that I’m in complete command of my own thoughts and actions.”

“I’ll help you, but you have to help me, too.”

“Can’t you just say some words and cure me?”

“Nothing’s that easy. It’s a process. It takes time to learn to control your energy.”

“You say you don’t trust me. That goes two ways. I think you’re dragging out everything to suit your own purposes.”

“You’ve barely spent five minutes among us. You’ll have to gain their trust.”

“Or catch them unawares,” she muttered.

“That would be hard to do. Our hearing may not be as sharp as yours. But we can sense energy before it senses us.”

“You have to sleep sometime.”

Of course. He should have realized. Tombi laid a hand on her thin shoulder, noticing his palm engulfed the side of her neck and curve of her shoulder. “Come meet us tonight. Hunt with us and spend the night.”

Her eyebrows drew up. “Spend the night with you in your tent?”

An image of Annie, naked and curled up beside him, flushed his body with desire. “I can spring for a new tent and sleeping bag,” he said past the dryness at the back of his throat.

“I’ll think—” She came to a dead halt and tilted her head to the side, listening to a faint sound.

“Wh—”

She raised a finger to her lips to silence him. Her forehead wrinkled, and her eyes grew distant. Suddenly, Annie grabbed his arm and looked around wildly. “Let’s run!”

And then he sensed it, too. Dread enveloped him like a heavy blanket. The metallic scent of blood and a whisper of decay could alone mean only one thing. Nalusa was near.

Very near. Within striking range.

Not now. Not with Annie so close. “Go without me,” he urged.

She stood still, as if paralyzed, staring at him with brown eyes full of fear. “But what about you?”

“I can take care of myself.” He drew out the dagger from his side. “Go!”

She hesitated.

A rustling whipped through the underbrush, unnaturally loud, drowning out birds and insects and the rumble of the sea. A sibilant hiss sent a tingle across the skin of his back and arms. Another second and Nalusa would be upon them. Tombi looked over his shoulder and pointed at Annie with his dagger. “I said, go!”

Her dark eyes were like a well of smooth, black water. And in those pupils Tombi saw a triangular head arise, a long forked tongue slithering from its mouth. The snake’s copper eyes appeared to hold Annie entranced. The Medusa of the bayou.

If Bo were still alive and with him, he’d throw a dagger accurate enough to strike the snake in between the eyes. Tombi didn’t trust his aim to be as accurate. He needed to be a little closer. He slowly turned to directly face Nalusa, his body a shield to protect Annie behind him. Nalusa coiled his long snake form in upon itself, his muscles rippling beneath the gray-and-brown patchwork of scales.

The striking position. His tail rose up with its rings of rattles and shook. The sound was as loud as a tumbling steel barrel full of iron pellets.

Tombi deliberately stepped toward Nalusa, every nerve flooded with adrenaline. Warring instincts battled inside. His muscles twitched to take action, to strike the enemy, yet his mind urged caution. One miscalculation and his tribe would be further reduced and without its leader.

They were within a few feet of one another. Striking distance. Tombi willed Annie to leave, but he sensed her presence behind him.

Why hadn’t she run? His jaw tightened. It could be the two were in league together. She drew him to just the right place at the right time. Tombi shrugged off the disquieting notion, trying to stay focused. If he lived, he would have his answer. If he didn’t...the other hunters would guess at her treachery and the trap she had plotted.

But no matter. The death match was on. He had to kill this monster before Nalusa crept past his boundaries, past the deep swamp where his ancestors had bound him many years ago. Hurricane Katrina had unleashed something; her destruction and the resulting chaos in the Deep South had made it possible for Nalusa to escape his chains and increase his power.

Now he seemed ready to inflict his evil upon the world.

Now he must die.

Tombi lunged forward, aiming for the eyes. His dagger sank into the thick, muscular skin of the snake, under its throat. It was as if he could feel the pain in his own body. A bolt of agony exploded a few inches under his collarbone, a needle sharpness that quickly radiated toward his chest, as if he’d been injected with poison.

Bitten. He’d been bitten. Moaning rent the space between man and beast, and Tombi couldn’t say if it was his own or Nalusa’s. Blood poured from the snake’s throat where Tombi’s silver dagger had sunk in deep. Its black tongue whipped out, ready to strike again.

Tiny white grains and bits of dirt rained down on Nalusa’s coiled body, and he jerked backward, eyes fixed somewhere past Tombi’s shoulder. What was happening?

Tombi took advantage of the distraction and scrambled to his knees, but pain exploded everywhere, and his vision filled with tiny black dots. His limbs felt numb and paralyzed, and with every breath the pain spread farther, deeper. He collapsed on the hard ground. I’m joining you, Bo.

The image of his parents arose as he last saw them. His father whittling his latest sculpture, his mom shucking corn. All that work, and the sculpture was taken out by the tide, by that bitch of a hurricane, Katrina.

I tried. I failed. You win, Nalusa. He could do no more.

* * *

Annie ran across the field to their cottage. Ran until her lungs burned and her chest heaved like fireplace billows. And still there wasn’t enough oxygen to fuel her body’s race against time. Don’t die don’t die please don’t die. She’d flung the salt and consecrated earth from her mojo bag at the attacker, but it may have been too little, too late.

Tombi’s unconscious body, sprawled in the red clay dirt, was as clear to her as the door to the cottage. She couldn’t, wouldn’t think of that—thing, not a snake and not a man. The snake form had dissolved into a thin, tall column of a creature howling with pain. Tombi’s dagger had dislodged, and the creature retreated to the darkness of the woods from which it had come.

But not Tombi. She’d felt his pulse, saw the slight rise and fall of his chest. So fragile.

The door opened, and Grandma Tia descended the steps, carrying the large straw bag that held her roots and herbs for her healing home visitations.

“Hurry.” Annie tried to scream, but her voice was only a puff, as light as dandelion seeds that scattered in the briny breeze.

Tia hustled over with a speed and agility Annie hadn’t observed in her for years.

“Where is he?” she asked without preamble.

Annie hastily removed the shoulder strap from her grandma’s bag and hoisted it over her own shoulders. “This way. He’s been bitten, Grandma.” She felt six years old again and seeking her grandma’s comfort after other kids made fun of her. She still needed her assurance and knowledge, wanted her grandma to tell her everything was going to be okay.

“Ole devil snake got ’em, eh?” They were only midway through the field, but Tia’s breathing was already labored.

“Your heart,” Annie said, drawing burning air into oxygen-starved lungs. She laid a hand on Tia’s shoulder. “Tell me what to do, and you can stay here.”

“Ain’t goin’ be that easy,” Tia huffed. “Gonna take both of us to set this right.” She nodded at the trail. “Best keep on. Sooner I start workin’, better chance he lives.”

They hurried on, and Annie resumed her frantic litany. Don’t die don’t die don’t die.

There. His body lay in the same spot. Annie laid his head in her lap and swept his long hair out of his eyes. Only a supernatural force could have felled such a strong man. Such a warrior. His bronze skin stretched tightly across lean, compact muscles. She wondered what had drawn him into this fight with evil, what ancient curse haunted him and his people.

Grandma Tia began humming and chanting, calling upon her Jesus and the holy saints as she pulled out herbs and protection wards from the bag—graveyard dirt, hollowed-out dirt-dauber nests, chopped swamp-alder root, strings of Dixie John root, and other bits and pieces of unidentifiable objects.

“I call on thee, archangels most high,” Tia said in her firmest voice. “I call on thee, King Solomon, and thou keys of wisdom, and I call on thee, Moses, for thy power and faith. By the spirit of the Great Black Hawk, I summon thee.”

Annie kept her eyes fixed on Tombi’s swollen chest with its mottled skin as her grandmother continued her petitions. It could have been ten seconds or ten minutes later—Annie couldn’t say—but Tia stopped and turned grave eyes on her.

“It ain’t working.”

Annie’s fingers sank tighter into Tombi’s shoulder, and she squeezed, willing him to fight. “You can’t quit. Keep going.”

Tia drew a long, unsteady breath. “Ain’t but one thing left to do.” She unpacked a poultice, laid her hand directly over the open wound and prayed, then placed the poultice on the broken skin.

Annie gulped. “Aren’t you worried about infection?”

“We way past that point, child. Now I need you to help me. We goin’ to draw that poison out of his body and into mine.”

“But—we can’t. What will the poison do to you? Your heart—”

Tia held up a hand, face stern. “My time on this here earth is almost up anyhows. We gots to try. Now. What I want you to do is find that gris-gris bag full of wormwood in my bag and sprinkle it all around us.”

Annie hastily rummaged in the purse, pulled out a black satin drawstring pouch and held it to her nose. A pungent, bitter smell tickled her nostrils. “Is this the one?”

“That’s it. Now you get to work and recite parts of Psalm 91. And don’t interrupt me, no matter what. You hear me?”

Her upbringing left her no choice but to respond properly to the authority in that voice. “Yes, ma’am.”

Tia’s eyes softened, and the rigid set of her face melted. “You always been a good girl,” she said. “My shining star with the gift. You hear music where the rest of us hear silence.” She turned abruptly away. “Now get to work like I taught you.”

It felt like a farewell.

Surely not. Grandma Tia was no voodoo hack. She was the real deal. Knew things, sensed things, felt things.

Annie circled around them, a few feet out, crumbling bits of wormwood petals and letting them fall onto her path. The words of the psalm were ingrained since childhood.

“Thou shalt not be afraid for the terror by night, nor for the arrow that flieth by day, nor for the pestilence that walketh in darkness, nor for the destruction that wasteth at noonday.”

Heat singed upward from below where her grandmother knelt beside Tombi’s body that was sprawled on the hard ground. The sweltering air battered Annie’s temples with headache. The wormwood’s bitter, camphoraceous scent deepened, and her fingers tingled with numbness—some toxic effect of the herb intensified by the spell. A golden light flowed between Tombi’s chest and her grandma’s hand.

Annie stopped her recitation, mesmerized by the etheric glow.

Tia cast her a sharp glance. “Don’t stop.”

She cleared her throat and continued circling. “No evil shall befall thee, neither shall any plague come nigh thy dwelling. For he shall give his angels care. They shalt tread upon the lion and adder.”

The swelling and redness of his skin decreased. Tombi stirred and wet his lips. A low moan escaped.

“It’s working,” Annie exclaimed, wanting to tap-dance around the sacred circle. The golden, healing energy had wrought a remarkable change. There was still some swelling, but the angry red streaks of infection had disappeared. “You did it, Grandma—” She stopped abruptly.

Tia’s olive skin had grayed and wrinkled even more, to the point it resembled elephant skin. Her eyes held an unhealthy glaze, as if she were burning with a fever.

Annie sank on her knees and hugged her grandma. “Don’t leave me,” she begged. “Tell me how to help you.”

A laugh so faint that even she couldn’t hear it—it could only be felt from the rumbling of Tia’s chest and throat. “It’s all in the good Lord’s hands now, child.”

Annie burrowed her head in her grandma’s gray hair with its witchy, herbal smell. The smell of home and safety and love. Her grounding force in this world.

“I’m going to get help,” she promised, mind whirling with the action she needed to take: get up, run to the cottage, find her cell phone and car keys. Call the ambulance, drive through the field, manage to get these two in the car and drive them to the cottage for the ambulance to transport them to the hospital.

Once at the hospital, the doctors would demand to know what happened...

“Hey,” Tombi asked with a note of hoarse puzzlement. “What’s going on here?”

A frisson of resentment washed over Annie. This had been his fight. Not hers. And certainly not her grandma’s. If she’d never met him, her grandma wouldn’t be hovering at death’s portal for the afterlife.

She’d sacrificed her own safety and, worse, her grandma’s health. All for a promise. One that Tombi didn’t seem in any hurry to fill.

“My grandma absorbed the poison meant for you,” she said, hot tears scalding her cheeks. “I wish I’d never met you.”


Chapter 4 (#ulink_a14ca042-720d-57c1-b103-d265336753ac)

Tia’s deep olive flesh turned ashy. The glaze of her eyes and burn of her skin indicated a dangerously high fever, as if a volcano had exploded inside her body.

How much longer for that ambulance? Seemed as if it had taken hours to get her grandma back to the cottage and make the call for help. Annie held Tia’s hand and stroked her hot forehead. “Isn’t there some kind of special tea or gris-gris bag I can get for you?”

“Fetch my crystal from the altar and light a candle.” Tia’s voice was weak and hoarse. She swallowed hard. “And say a quick prayer while you’re at it.”

Annie scurried to do her bidding, glad to take action. Seeing someone in pain, especially the rock of her universe, was to suffer alongside them.

Don’t die. Sure, she’d known Tia’s heart was winding down, but Annie had expected weeks, if not months, to share with her grandmother. Time to soak in her care and wisdom. Time also to be trained in root working and to, hopefully, cajole a reverse spell to banish the musical auras that assaulted her mind.

At the altar, Annie grasped the large chunk of polished carnelian that, despite its vivid orange-red color, was cooling and soothing to the touch. With shaking hands, Annie struck a match. It hissed loudly in the quiet and emitted a whisper of sulfur. She applied the flame to the white columnar candle that smelled strongly of patchouli and cloves. Beside the candle was a framed print of a stern angel with spread wings.

Annie collected her panicked thoughts and prayed. “Dear God...universe...angels...help my grandma,” she whispered in a rush. “She’s done nothing but help people all her life, and now she needs you. The time isn’t right. I’m not ready.” Annie drew a deep breath, ashamed she’d wandered into selfish territory. A groan from the next room, and she drew the prayer to a quick close. “Please and amen.”

She hurried to the den, where Tombi leaned over the sofa toward Tia, as if drawing closer to hear her speak. Or check her breath for life.

A jab of fear wrung her gut. “Is she...?”

“She’s alive,” he said with grim authority. “But her pulse grows faint.”

A siren sounded from far away.

Tombi straightened. “I’ll wait out front for the ambulance. Make sure they don’t have trouble finding this place.” He brushed past, and Annie lifted her chin, turning her body to the side to avoid accidental contact. It might be unfair to blame him for Tia’s condition, but she couldn’t help resenting him, nonetheless.

Tombi raised a brow but said nothing.

The door shut behind him, and Annie let out a deep breath, resuming her place by Tia’s side. She slipped the carnelian crystal into her grandma’s weathered palm, and Tia curled her fingers over the rock.

“Does this help you?” Annie asked, hoping it eased the pain.

Tia nodded. “Helps me focus. To say what needs sayin’.”

Her grandma took a long, raspy breath, and Annie winced at the rattle that sounded like oxygen was leaking and gurgling from her lungs. She eased down and sat beside Tia’s sprawled body. “Take your time. I lit the candle and said a prayer like you asked.”

“Ain’t much time left.”

“Don’t say that,” Annie scolded. “You’re going to be fine.”

“Listen.” Tia struggled to rise on an elbow, but gave up and sank back into the cushions. “I know I been a disappointment to you this visit.”

Annie started to deny it, but Tia cut her off.

“We ain’t got time for nothin’ but the truth between us. And the truth is, you need to help Tombi. He needs you. He needs your gift.”

But what about me? It’s not what I want.

Tia frowned, eyes sparking with reprimand.

No doubt she’d heard the selfish, unspoken thought. Guilt and shame washed over Annie in a heated flood of remorse.

“You listen here, Annie girl. You help that man. Now. Tonight.”

Annie shook her head again. “No way. I’m staying with you.”

“I’m goin’ somewhere you cain’t follow.”

“You aren’t going to die,” Annie insisted.

“I mean it, missy. You go with Tombi. Promise me.”

Her tone was fierce, insistent—one that Annie remembered as a child. A you-better-mind-me-this-is-your-last-warning kind of voice. The siren’s wail grew distinct and piercing.

Annie crossed two fingers behind her back. “Okay.”

Tia tugged Annie’s right hand around to the front of her body. “You stop that childish nonsense, or I’ll haunt you all yer living days.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Now, then. They fixin’ to take me to that infernal hospital.” Tia sniffed as if she’d smelled something unclean. She hated the hospital and always said they hurt more than helped. “Guess it’s for the best in this case.”

“They’ll take good care of you. You’ll be better in—”

“Hush. If you ever loved me, if you ever trusted my judgment...don’t go to the hospital with me. Say you won’t.”

Annie’s shoulders slumped. “Okay,” she whispered in defeat, crushed at the mandate. “Is there at least some spell or working I can do while you’re gone?”

“No. You be my good girl and help Tombi.” Tia’s eyes filled with tears that poured down her cheeks like trickles of rain.

Annie couldn’t ever remember her grandma crying, except that one time when Annie’s mama got in a huge argument with Tia and walked out, saying she would never come back to this backwater hell. That day, Tia’s great shoulders had heaved in silent sobs.

Flashing red lights strobed through the window like a disco party from hell. Annie squeezed Tia’s hand.

“You always were my special girl.” Tia nodded. “But now it’s time for my release. Tombi is your destiny now. Ya hear?”

The screen door burst open, and two men in dark blue uniforms entered with a stretcher, Tombi close at their heels.

The men hurried to Tia’s side and took her pulse, listened to her heart, assessed for damages. Tombi explained what had happened, and Annie sank to her knees, hands covering her mouth. How could her grandma expect her to stay here while she went to the hospital?

Tia was transferred to the stretcher, and the men labored to the door with their heavy burden. She still clutched the carnelian in one hand, taking a piece of home with her to a foreign place bustling with antiseptic, modern doctors who prodded you with needles and probed your flesh and innards with an impersonal, impatient air.

It was about as far from hoodoo healing as you could get.

“We’re taking her to Bayou La Siryna General Hospital,” one of the young men said.

She couldn’t speak past the clogged boulder in her throat, but Tombi responded. “Thank you. Family and friends will follow shortly.” He walked the EMR staff to the door and shut it behind them.

Annie curled into the sofa. The cushions were still warm from her grandma’s fever and smelled like her special scent of cinnamon and sandalwood. She punched a throw pillow, aching with the need to follow her grandma.

But she’d promised.

She gave in to her grief and sobbed into the battered pillow.

A warm hand touched her shoulder. “Annie?”

She jumped. She’d completely forgotten Tombi was present.

“You,” she spat.

A flinch danced across the hard planes of his face, so fleeting that she wondered if she’d misread it. He withdrew his hand.

“I’m sorry about your grandmother.” He stood erect and awkward, as if unsure what to do or say.

Annie swiped her eyes and edged away from his presence. She tucked her feet beneath her on the sofa and hugged her knees to her chest. “Why don’t you go away and leave me alone?”

She didn’t care if she looked or sounded childish. Grandma Tia was gone. And it was all his fault. If she’d never met him, never made the mistake of following the will-o’-the-wisps into the woods, her grandma would still be here.

I’m going where you can’t follow. Was Tia talking about her death? Or something else?

“Is there someone I can call?” Tombi asked. “Family? A friend?”

Annie didn’t want to call her mom. It would take her hours to drive down from the north Georgia mountains. That was, if she came. And she’d be impatient and cross that Annie hadn’t gone to the hospital. No matter that she’d shirked her own daughterly duties. Best to wait a bit for some news on her grandma’s condition before calling.

Annie nodded at the desk by the far wall. “Open up that middle drawer. There’s a blue address book in it.”

She watched as Tombi rummaged in the drawer. His green T-shirt was streaked with red clay dirt, as were his blue jeans. It reminded her that he’d been lying on the ground deathly ill less than an hour ago. She shouldn’t care but...

“Hey, are you okay?” she asked reluctantly. “Maybe you should have gone to the ER, too.”

He shut the desk drawer and came toward her. One side of his mouth twitched upward. “Nice to know you care.”

He handed over the battered book, which was crammed with names and addresses scribbled in Tia’s large, dramatic script. Grandma wasn’t one to trust computers for storing information.

Annie found Verbena Holley’s name and picked up her cell phone. Verbena was a longtime family friend who would drop everything and stay with Tia at the hospital. She also wouldn’t question Annie about Tia’s demand that she remain at home. Verbena was almost as eccentric as Tia and possessed absolute faith in Tia’s wisdom.

That done, Annie hung up and let out a deep breath. She felt a fraction better that her grandma would have a familiar face by her side this evening. Outside, shadows lengthened, and twilight wouldn’t be far behind.

Tombi paced their small den looking large and out of place. He belonged to the night and to the swampland, not here in this mystical room with its herbal sachets, saint statues and candles. His stride was cramped, his posture rigid. He kept his eyes to the ground, hands tightly interlaced behind his back.

“You don’t have to stay,” Annie said. “You should go back to your friends.” After all, Grandma Tia hadn’t said she had to help him immediately. It would be best if he left, and she could gather her wits and form a plan. “They probably wonder what’s taking you so long to return.” And no doubt would blame her for his injury.

He stopped pacing and gave her a ferocious stare. “I’m not going back without you.”

Beneath the glare of his eyes, exhaustion and pain had left a faint trace. Annie wanted nothing more than to demand he leave, but she couldn’t send out a man who had been so near death.

My destiny. Was her grandma just being fanciful?

Annie stood and pointed to the sofa. “Why don’t you sit, and I’ll fix some tea. Something to make sure the fever lessens.”

He narrowed his eyes. “What kind of tea?”

“A little this, a little that.” Realization struck. “What did you think I’d put in your drink?”

“Poison, perhaps.” He arched a brow. “What do witches brew? Toadstool soup with dragon blood and gator claws?”

That was rich. The guy practically killed her grandma and then suggested he didn’t trust her? “Don’t forget magic mushrooms and bat whiskers,” she drawled.

Too bad she didn’t have access to something like truth serum to find out more about his background and intentions. Still, her healing nature couldn’t ignore Tombi’s underlying suffering. And keeping busy was her preferred method for dealing with sorrow and worry.

In the kitchen, her safe haven, Annie set the iron teakettle on the stove and mixed together a pinch of elderberry, angelica and feverfew for taking out any underlying fever, plus a dash of chamomile for relaxing. Not truth serum, but maybe if Tombi relaxed he would open up more. Couldn’t hurt.

She reached up on tiptoes for the container of stevia.

“Interesting place.”

Annie spun around like a ballerina en pointe. “I didn’t hear you come in,” she sputtered. “Sneaking up on me?”

“No. It’s just my way. The way of most hunters. I came to see if I could help.”

Annie leaned against the counter and folded her arms. “I think you wanted to keep an eye on me.” She waved a hand around the kitchen. “Go on and look. We’re fresh out of arsenic and eye of newt.”

Tombi squinted at the jars of dried spices and roots lining the countertops, the basket of pink mojo bags she’d assembled earlier that morning and the bunches of dried herbs hanging above on the ceiling. “Unusual, but nothing overtly suspicious, like a box of rat poison.”

Was he serious? Annie frowned. “Now, look here, you can’t just—”

Tombi opened the pantry door, and she drew away from the counter, spine stiffening. “Who said you could go poking about everywhere?” she demanded.

“You said I could look around.” He stepped in the pantry and ran a finger over the shelves. “Ah, now it’s getting interesting. Graveyard dirt, coffin nails and—” he picked up a sealed jar and turned “—swamp juice?” His nose crinkled at the puke-green cloudiness. “Looks like it could kill someone. Bacterial infection would be a gruesome death.”

“Put it back, and mind your own business.”

He returned it to the shelf, and Annie poured steaming tea into two mugs. She lifted the silver ball that held the loose ingredients in the teapot and waggled it. “We’re drinking from the same pot. Just so you know.”

Tombi sank into one of the cane-backed kitchen chairs, and Annie sat across from him at the table. He filled the room with his strong presence, overpowered what was once her peaceful sanctuary. Made it disturbing.

Exciting.

Even the air she breathed reeked of masculinity and testosterone—forceful and heady.

Annie slid the ceramic bowl filled with packets of sugar to the middle of the table. “You’ll want to sweeten up that brew. It’s a bit bitter. If you’d rather use honey, we have some.”

“This will do.”

She couldn’t meet his eyes, instead staring at his lean, muscled forearms and large hands as he ripped open a sugar packet and stirred his tea. What would it be like to have his hands touching her all over? A warm flush blossomed on her cheeks, and she gripped her mug with both hands to steady the turmoil Tombi awoke in her body.

Stop it. He can’t be trusted. So far, he had brought nothing but empty promises and disaster.

* * *

Tombi swallowed a mouthful of the astringent tea and struggled to conceal his revulsion. But if it would help strengthen his aching limbs and exhaustion, he’d drink every drop.

Annie regarded him, lips curled sardonically. “That’s right, my dearie,” she crooned in a crackly, crone voice. “Drink every last drop or the poison is no good.”

He set the mug down with a bang. “You wouldn’t.” A heartbeat. “Would you?”

She folded her arms. “What do you think?”

“You wouldn’t.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Don’t be so sure about me. After all, you might have got my grandma killed today. Things like that tend to piss people off, you know.”

“It’s highly unusual for Nalusa to attack before nightfall. It’s as if he were lying in wait for me. As if someone had tipped him off.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” She jumped up, hands gripping the table with white-knuckled anger. “You think I contacted a...a...snake? I never even heard of Nalusa until yesterday.”

“So you say.”

Tombi couldn’t let it go. He’d become a jaded man, not by birth disposition, but because of the deaths and trapped spirits he’d witnessed over the past ten years. He and his tribe tried to release all the ensnared souls, but they kept growing in number. Secretly, he despaired there was no stopping Nalusa’s increasing spread of misery. How was he supposed to trust this girl—this witch who mysteriously appeared in the dead of night in the swamp and claimed to speak to Bo?

Annie made a disgusted clucking noise and noisily set about tidying the kitchen. “Don’t drink the tea, then. Suffer. Means nothing to me.”

She dried some silverware and threw it in a drawer, where it clanged. “If anyone’s scared, it should be me.”

“Scared? I’m not scared.” For spirit’s sake, he faced creatures of the dark on a daily basis.

She stared pointedly at his half-filled mug and raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

Tombi lifted it to his lips and took another experimental sip. The liquid had cooled considerably. He raised the mug in a salutatory gesture. “To good health.” He downed the whole mess in four gulps.

Great Spirits almighty, that was nasty stuff.

Annie threw the dish towel in the sink and stared at him. “Your skin is starting to get a little pale and clammy,” she noted. “Perspiration’s beading on your forehead. You sure you’re okay? Maybe I poisoned you after all.”

Tombi lifted his right arm a few inches, then dropped it by his side. He’d almost given her the satisfaction of touching his forehead to check.

“Your jaw is twitching, too.”

“It tends to do that when I’m annoyed.”

“Better annoyed than worried sick like I am.” Annie glanced out the kitchen window, and her body slumped, as if the fight and anger had melted from her spine and left her in a pool of misery.

Damn. He fought the guilt that pestered his gut. He didn’t ask that old lady to save him. “Look, Annie, I’m sorry about your grandma.”

She waved a hand dismissively, back still toward him.

“Maybe you should go to the hospital,” he drawled, reluctant to encourage her but compelled to show compassion. Tia Henrietta had saved his life; he owed her.

“She’d kill me. She specifically begged me not to.”

“Did she say why?”

Annie sighed. “She seems to think you are some kind of hero or something.”

“I wish she hadn’t taken the poison,” Tombi offered.

She faced him and tilted her head to one side. “Did she say something to you right before the ambulance came? I saw you lean over the couch where she lay.”

He shuffled in his seat and shrugged his shoulders. “She moaned, and I got closer to see if she was trying to talk. But she was mostly incoherent.”

Mostly.

The word and its meaning seemed to slip by Annie. Thank the spirits.

“She has a weak heart. I don’t see how she can recover from this.” Her eyes were a reproach.

Tombi frowned, hardening his heart. He couldn’t let his resolve to mistrust all strangers end. He had a mission. His people depended on him. Should he fail... No, he couldn’t go down that dark corridor of possibility in his mind. Bad enough the worry haunted his dreams.

Her voice rose an octave. “And to top it off, you seem to believe I brought all this on myself and my grandma.”

Tombi pursed his lips. “You could have set a trap, not knowing your grandmother would come swooping in to save me at the last possible second.”

“Of all the ungrateful...” she sputtered. “If not for us, you’d be dead or ate up with fever.”

He paused, struck by the fact that he was ready to return to the hunt, full of vigor. “That tea actually helped,” he let slip in surprise.

“Of course it did. You...you...” Again, she was so angry that words failed. She planted her hands on her hip and glared.

He smiled, and she stepped close to him.

“Stop smirking.” Annie pushed against his chest. She was so small, so petite, the top of her head hit him only chest-high.

Instinctively, he grabbed her arms and pulled her closer into him. She smelled mysterious—like herbs and musk and a touch of some flowery scent that was deliciously, dangerously feminine.

He remembered their kiss. Would she ever want to kiss him again—now that she held him responsible for Tia’s illness? Loss and regret swept through him like an errant breeze.

If circumstances were different. If there wasn’t so much at stake. If only... But it did no good to wallow in “ifs.” It wasn’t as if he’d had any choice in the matter of his destiny and duty. His hands still held her forearms, but they loosened—and she didn’t pull away. He hardly dared move for fear of shattering the magic.

The only sound in the room was their joined breathing, hers lighter and more rapid than his. Her chest gently expanded and contracted. And then, oh-so-slowly, they eased their bodies together, and her cheek lay on his chest. Tombi leaned down and rested his chin on the cinnamon warmth of her dark hair.

Outside, the sky darkened. Leaves and moss would begin to rustle in the ancient oaks. Soon, birds of the night would swoop from branch to branch, screeching and spying and reporting back to Nalusa on the hunters’ movements. Ishkitini, the horned owl, was the most ominous bird of prey, because his screech foretold a sudden death or murder. Will-o’-the-wisps would glow and skitter about with the energy of the trapped deceased.

The windowpane’s reflection captured their joined silhouette like a flickering trick of the eye. Nebulous and passing, a fragile thing of impermanence. Tombi closed his eyes and stroked her arms. They were as soft and slender as a robin’s wing.

The phone rang, and she jerked and wiggled out of his embrace, returning to the table to pick up her cell phone.

“How is she?” Annie asked, face set in tense worry. “Uh-huh. That’s good...right?”

Reassured the call wasn’t death news, Tombi let himself out the front door and stood on the porch. She’d appreciate her privacy. The heat and the night pressed down on him, cloying and heavy.

He had to return to the others. His duty was clear. Somehow, he must convince Annie to come with him. This cottage wasn’t safe for a young woman alone. She’d been lured once by a will-o’-the-wisp. It could happen again. Their call was almost impossible to ignore.

And then there were Tia Henrietta’s words. Annie is your destiny. Without her, you fail. And as he’d started to straighten, the old woman’s hand had gripped his with surprising strength. Take care of my granddaughter.

Destiny? Destiny be damned. It was enough that the gods had placed this duty on him, this infernal battle with Nalusa and his shadows. No doubt Annie could prove useful with her extraordinary hearing. But that tiny woman wasn’t a key to battling evil. She didn’t stand a chance against dark forces she’d never before encountered. If she was an innocent, he reminded himself grimly. And as far as taking care of Annie...wasn’t it enough that his fellow hunters depended on him as their leader? He didn’t need another burden.

The door creaked open, and she stood beside him.

“How’s your grandmother?”

“Miss Verbena says her vital signs are stabilized, but she’s in a coma.”

He tried to find comforting words. “Her brain just needs a rest while she battles the poison.”

“I don’t like it.” Her voice was small, weak.

He should say something sweet, something comforting. But he didn’t know how. Even his twin, Tallulah, wasn’t much good at sweet-talking. If Hanan were here, he would know. His friend was always quick with the comebacks and the right, appropriate thing to say. A real asset in his job as the county sheriff. Tombi stiffened, feeling awkward. “Come with me. Stay with my people.”

She shot him a sideways glance. “Why?”

“So you can help us.”

She sniffed and turned for the door.

He’d said the wrong thing.

“And because we could use your gift. We...apparently, need you.”

“Well, I don’t need you. Grandma made me promise not to go to the hospital, but she can’t make me leave this house. I’m staying here in case Miss Verbena calls with more news.”

“You can take your phone with you.”

“Coverage is spotty in the woods. I can’t chance it.”

“But even if there’s news, good or bad, there’s nothing you can do,” he pointed out.

She gave him a look that would surely curdle even Nalusa’s milky venom. “I want to know everything the moment it happens.” Her words were slow and deliberate, as if she were talking to a not-so-bright child.

An unexpected warmth flushed Tombi’s cheeks at her condescending tone. He scowled to cover his embarrassment. Time to show his ace in the hole. “Your grandmother asked me to take care of you.”

“When?” Her eyes narrowed to suspicious slits.

“That time you saw me bending over her before the ambulance came.”

“You said she was incoherent.”

“I was trying to save your pride.”

They glared at one another. In the distance, an owl screeched. A bad sign.

Very bad.


Chapter 5 (#ulink_ebbb01f2-c589-59dc-a23d-163b35c8956a)

Annie shivered, breaking the tension. “That owl sounds creepy.”

“Ishkitini,” Tombi grumbled. No good ever came of the horned owl’s cry. It often foretold death. But no sense troubling Annie with that information. She’d assume it was an omen about her grandmother, and then she’d never agree to go with him. Plus, he had to admit, he didn’t want to upset Annie.

“A dangerous night to be alone. You’d be safer on the hunt with me,” he said.

Her eyes shifted to the woods and back to him.

She was weakening.

“Besides, you shouldn’t be here alone tonight worrying about your grandmother. Go on the hunt with us. It will take your mind off your problems.”

“Why should I go? It’s obvious your friends don’t want me around. At least at home, I won’t be insulted.”

Damn Tallulah and the others for their hostility. It had been a mistake to tell them he’d brought Annie to possibly find a traitor. Nobody appreciated a messenger with bad news. “You’ll be by my side during the hunt,” Tombi promised. “The others follow their own path in the night darkness.”

She glanced over to the woods again. “I have to admit I’m curious about your hunt.” Her eyes met his. “Does what you do involve anything gruesome? You know, like, bloody stuff?”

“Not usually.”

“Good.” She pinned him with a hard look. “And in return for going tonight, you’ll teach me how to control my hearing?”

“For one night’s work?” The words tumbled out, unfiltered. Oh, hell. By the look on her face, he’d lost any chance of getting her cooperation.

Annie marched back into the cottage, slamming the door shut.

He opened it and followed her inside. At least she hadn’t locked him out. “How about this? Spend time with us, and let me know if you have suspicions about anyone. In return, I’ll teach you what I can.”

Anger twisted her delicate features. “Teach me? I didn’t think I’d need lessons.”

“How else did you expect to learn to control your gift?”

“I thought... I thought...” She sputtered to a stop.

“I never said it would be easy.”

“You never said it would be hard, either.” She rubbed her temples. “Just how long will these lessons take?”

“Hard to say.” He folded his arms and considered. “Could take weeks, could take months. That is, if you can follow my teachings. Not everyone can control their energy.”

Annie sat on the sofa and took a deep breath. “Okay, there are a couple of things troubling me about what you just said.” She held up an index finger. “One, your people can guard against leaking their energy, making it difficult for me to hear their auras. So I can’t guarantee I’ll be able to pinpoint this person.”

She held up a second finger, but Tombi interrupted, “Let me take your objections one at a time.” He sat across from Annie, their knees almost touching. Warmth radiated from her slight body, and he clamped down the passion she aroused as he cleared his throat. “After a night chasing shadows, we gather back at the campsite and fill each other in on the night’s events. We’ll eat a light meal and then go to our tents and sleep until the heat of the day drives us out. Usually about noon.”

“I don’t see what this has to do with—”

“I’m getting to that,” Tombi promised. “Stay alert while they sleep and walk around the camp. See if you hear anything suspicious then.”

Her brow creased and then cleared. She nodded. “They must let down their guard during sleep.”

“Exactly. Now what’s your next objection?”

“You said you would teach me what you could. What the hell does that mean exactly? First you claimed you could cure me of this gift. Now it sounds like you’re waffling.”

“No waffling.”

“Then are you saying I’m unteachable? I can assure you, that’s not true. Not at all. There’s nothing wrong with my intelligence.”

Tombi raised a brow and regarded her silently.

She had the grace to look sheepish. “Sorry. Touchy point with me. I was teased unmercifully in grade school because I had to be taught in a separate room one-on-one with a teacher’s aide. The music from all the other students made it impossible for me to concentrate in a regular classroom.” She took a shuddering breath. “They used to call me Crazy Annie.”

That must have been tough for a sensitive girl. “Kids can be cruel. I promise I wasn’t making a comment on your intelligence. What I meant was that I’ll show you how I block my energy. It’s a skill my parents taught me, so it stands to reason that, with the right training, you can do the same.”

A wistful sadness shadowed her eyes.

“You don’t think you can do it?” he asked gently.

She bit her lip. “Oh, it’s silly. But what I was really hoping is that you’d arrange for a shaman to remove it. You know, something quick and easy.”

He fixed her with a hard stare.

Annie flushed. “I know. That’s awful of me. I just want to get on with my life.”

“Meaning what? What would you do without your special hearing ability that you can’t do now?” Annie was hard to understand. He could control his senses to some degree, yet it didn’t change who he was, or his purpose in life.

She threw up her hands. “You can’t laugh.”

At his steady wait, Annie admitted, “I want to be a librarian.”

“Then do it.” He shrugged. “Now. No one’s stopping you.”

“Even in a library, the noise gets to be too much after a while. There’s more peace and quiet there than any other public place, but it still grates. I can’t see me working as a librarian forty hours a week.”

Annie stood and walked around the small den, picking up stray items and straightening stacks of books and magazines. “And it’s more than wanting to work a full-time job. I’d like to have friends, a family, a social life.”

“The music is that disruptive for you?” It might be hell for Annie, but this extraordinary ability could only be good for his hunters. And he would try to help her control her gift.

Eventually.

Once he’d gotten all he could from her. Duty first, always.

For the first time in days, a surge of hope fueled a fire within him. “Then what do you have to lose by helping me?” he asked. “I’ll make sure no harm comes to you.”

She carefully placed a book back down on a coffee table. “I really, really, really hate snakes,” she said, dead serious. “So you’d better protect me like you promised.”

“I will,” he vowed. “With my life.” This he could say with no guilt or deception.

Annie picked up a picture of her grandma and bent her head over it. Her long, wavy hair covered her face, but her shoulders shook, and he knew she wept. Surprisingly, it made him long to put his arms around her and kiss away her tears. He hardened his heart—this wouldn’t do at all.




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