Bayou Shadow Protector

by Debbie Herbert

  Stunned and exhausted, April gazed down at the wreckage.

  Chulah’s face was grimy and he bent down on one knee to the figure lying prone on the ground. “Tombi? Wake up. Wake up or Annie will never forgive you for leaving her. You hear me?”

  The man lay unmoving.

  Oh, my queen. Not again. Guilt paralyzed her essence. She’d been responsible the last time when Chulah lost the father he adored. And now his best friend might die, too?

  Tombi stirred and groaned. “Give me a minute. I’ll be fine.”

  Chulah let out a low breath and wiped his brow. The same relief almost made April melt, until wistfulness crept in. If only Chulah cared a fraction as much about her as he did his friend.

  Okay, she was being unreasonable. He’d never laid eyes on her until recently—at least not that he remembered. Trouble was, she’d been secretly watching him for years. He’d first caught her eye as a young teenager, so brave and strong and dominating the other boys in their fierce stickball competitions.

  But the first time they’d actually met, she’d ruined his life in the space of a mere two hours. Later, after his father had died, she’d watched him again in Fae form. Around his large family of younger brothers and sister, his face had been stoic. He’d amused the younger kids and comforted the crying girl. For hours. Until he went for a walk.

  She had followed. Ashamed for playing a role in the death of the father he loved.

  Not having parents, she didn’t entirely understand his grief. But as an outcast in the Fae realm, she had made up stories of a mother and father’s love. The truth was that her mother had abandoned her for a human lover. April wasn’t sure who her real father was or if he cared she existed. Still, she’d fantasized about a parent’s love and imagined how she’d feel if one of them had died.

  Chulah had stopped and sat on a fallen log, burying his face in his hands. He made no sound, but his shoulders shook. It was awful. It seemed never-ending. A desire to touch him nearly overpowered April. But she couldn’t—the Fae taboo was too strong.

  Maybe just a little enchantment...enough to give him a bit of comfort. She hovered closer, planting a kiss on her palm and blowing it toward him on the wind.

  He ceased the dreadful shaking and raised his head, bewildered. “Who’s there?” he whispered.

  April had said nothing.

  No human had ever noticed or spoken to her before. Not that she’d done much enchanting, but she’d seen the other Fae cast them. No human had ever questioned who was there and what they were doing.

  Concluding she sucked at enchantments, April had drifted farther back into the woods. Chulah arose and brusquely swiped at his face with his T-shirt. “Thank you,” he said, thumping his right hand on his chest.

  He was talking to her!

  April hardly dared move as he returned to his family’s cabin. She’d probably fallen a little in love with them right there at age sixteen.

  A large moan snapped April out of her reverie. Tombi stumbled to his feet, with Chulah supporting his weight on one arm.

  “Let’s get you home. Annie will have you feeling better in no time.”

  Tombi laughed ruefully. “The cure will be worse than the pain. I hate to think what bitter concoction she’ll brew.”

  “Whatever it is, you’ll drink it and be grateful,” Chulah said firmly. “She’s saved your ass more than once with her herbs.”

  They made slow, painful progress. April flew behind, in case there were more surprise attacks.

  Chulah suddenly halted, as if he had sensed her presence. He pumped a fist in the air. “Is that you, April? If you had anything to do with tonight, I’ll...” He sputtered to a stop, his eyes flashing like lightning and his voice deep and rumbling like thunder.

  So he’d guessed and made a connection that she was the creature he’d seen earlier—although he couldn’t know for sure. Pain washed over her in waves, drowning her in misery. He was so blind, literally and figuratively.

  And maybe...just maybe...he wasn’t the man she’d thought him to be. Maybe that young boy she had connected to, the one so moved at his father’s death, yet so kind and caring with his family, maybe that boy had died over the hard years of battles and deceits and deaths. Maybe the hardened warrior he’d become had lost the ability to love and sense the beauty that skittered outside his peripheral vision.

  If so, that would be the greatest tragedy of all. April slumped to the ground. If only there was someone for her. Someone who cared. Had cared about her her whole life and she just didn’t know it.

  But there was no one.

  She lifted her head, full of resolve. Chulah didn’t have to know this pain. This crippling loneliness. She knew that somewhere inside Chulah, the young boy he’d been remained. She just had to find him. Even if he believed the worst of her, even if he learned the truth and condemned her for killing his father, she still loved him.

  Chapter 5

  Tombi must have been badly hurt.

  All day, she’d expected him, his wife and Chulah to show up at the store. She’d even demanded that the irritating Steven stay by her side, sure the trio would try to trip her up with their questions. She couldn’t let them discover more about their race or the sacred fairy tree.

  But the only thing worse than an inquisition was waiting for one to happen.

  To hell with waiting and wondering. Steven had given up on them coming and had gone back to the Fae realm to visit and replenish his shape-shifting form.

  April closed the store and rode her bike through the woods to Chulah’s cabin. The light shone from his windows, a welcoming beacon in the late-afternoon October chill. She rapped at the heavy wooden door, hoping to catch him alone.

  He flung the door open and slumped against the frame. “You,” he said flatly.

  His face was gray and his hair in wild disarray. He wore only a pair of low-slung jeans, and her mouth went dry at the sight of his bare chest and flat, muscled abs. Sure, she’d seen him bare-chested many times, but within actual touching range, as a human, was so different. It was all she could do not to run a hand down his sleek torso.

  “Can I come in?” April peeked past him, relieved no one else was in sight. “You look awful. The wisps got to you last night.”

  He stiffened. “What do you know about that?”

  She couldn’t keep her big mouth shut. “I might have been there.” She’d been lying in bed in that stark apartment, breathing stale air, longing for the night air. To spread her wings and fly. So she came to the forest, soothing her soul with its life force. But instead of a peaceful interlude, she’d been drawn into battle.

  Chulah’s eyes narrowed to suspicious slits. “You’re the...thing...I saw in the woods, aren’t you? Did you send the wisps our way?”

  Obstinate, suspicious man. April put her hands on her hips, goaded into spilling her guts. She was tired of all the blame. It was time he learned she was his ally and not his enemy. “Yeah, I was there. And I took out three wisps for you.”

  So much for waiting until Chulah was in love with her to reveal that she wasn’t an ordinary human. He continued to regard her wordlessly.

  “You’re welcome,” she said, bristling. “Now, are you going to let me in or not? We need to talk.”

  Chulah stepped to the side and waved her in.

  April entered and studied the cabin’s interior. She’d never seen it before, except that small bit observable through a lit window at night. Not that she hadn’t tried. But Chulah and the other hunters placed consecrated sage and salt on all four corners of their dwellings for protection against the shadows. Even though she wasn’t one of the dark shadow spirits, in Fae form she was a nature spirit, and the salt and sage had effectively prevented her from entering.

  Probably a good thing. She’d have been unable to resist being near Chulah as he slept, or even better, showered.

  The rooms were as sparse as his words. Minimalistic. The coziness of the log walls contrasted with the modern lines o
f dark leather sofas and chairs. Bright-colored woven rugs adorned one wall and another enlivened the center of the den. April sat down. Motorcycle magazines, empty soda cans, a wet washcloth and a large bottle of aspirin lay scattered on a glass coffee table.

  “Feeling poorly?”

  “Like hell. But forget that. I want straight answers from you.” He sat across from her. “Who and what are you?”

  April chose her words carefully, ones that she’d practiced ever since she’d been called to solicit help from the shadow hunters. “I’m an ambassador of sorts. Sent to warn you that Hoklonote is seeking dominion over the Fae realm—”

  “Whoa.” He leaned forward, eyes gleaming. “The Fae realm? There really are such things as fairies, then? Is that what you—”

  “I’m not a real fairy.” At least not a pure one.

  “You’re lying. That was you I saw in the woods.” He swiftly lowered his lips to her neck and sniffed. “That’s it. That’s the scent.”

  April inched away, dismayed at his heightened sense of smell and at the same time aroused at the intimate contact. “I already told you I was there,” she said coolly, hiding the flustered beating of her heart.

  “I smelled violets by that tree. It’s the way you smell.”

  “I use a floral perfume,” she said, determined to refocus the conversation back to what mattered. “As I was saying, the Fae sent me to warn you and ask your help to defeat Hoklonote. They aren’t the only ones in danger here. If Hoklonote forces the Fae to work with him, he might succeed in unleashing Nalusa.”

  He gave a low whistle. “You know your stuff. I’ll give you that.”

  “Of course I do. I couldn’t solicit your help without knowing the situation.”

  “An ambassador, huh? What the hell does that mean?”

  She ran a hand over her skirt, ignoring the question. “Will you help us—I mean, will you help the Fae?” She sucked at lying.

  “I’m not agreeing to a damn thing until you tell me the truth.” His eyes burned with anger...and perhaps a touch of fever.

  Back off, April. He’s not buying what you’re selling. She reached across and ran a hand down his heated cheek. More than temper was at play. “You’re unwell. I can read it in your eyes and the flush on your face.”

  “Nothing wrong with me. Just a headache from hell.”

  Not likely. But she’d help him with that. “And your friend?”

  “Worse. But he’s in good hands with Annie. She’ll fix him something to ease his pain.”

  “Tia Henrietta’s granddaughter? The witch?” All the Fae had heard of Tia, the hoodoo queen of the swamp. Stood to reason that her granddaughter, Annie, was psychically gifted as well.

  “Don’t call her that,” he snapped.

  “I didn’t mean it as an insult. What does she call herself?”

  “A root worker. Says she’s into hoodoo.”

  April couldn’t understand the distinction. But whatever. Magic was magic no matter which name humans chose to call it.

  A sliver of jealousy clawed her heart. So Chulah stuck up for this woman? While she had been saving him from harm for years, and was viewed with mistrust. She could ease her man’s pain, too, with a little Fae enchantment. April discreetly blew out a breath and directed her essence toward Chulah.

  The pain lines in his forehead eased and the tension in his shoulders relaxed. He sat up suddenly. “Hey, what are you doing?”

  She gave him her most doe-eyed look and shrugged, palms out. “Do you see me holding a fairy wand?”

  “No, but...” Confusion knotted his brow. “This...this wave of...calm washed over me.”

  “Bet this is the best you’ve felt since last night.” His eyes turned cold at the mention, so she hurried to add, “Judging by the look on your face when you opened the door.”

  He shut his eyes. “I’m not going to fight you over this. I do feel better.” He cocked one eye open. “But no more of that fairy stuff. Okay?”

  “I’m not a fairy, but agreed.” April kicked off her shoes and hugged her knees to her chest, trying to contain her glee. He’d accepted her help! After the fact, without prior permission.

  But still. Progress could be measured in the tiniest of increments. There was hope they could help each other with more important matters. Like Hoklonote.

  But we might not have time for this, Steven’s words whispered in her ears. As if he were sitting beside her. April frowned, but couldn’t pick up any sign he was present. She must be paranoid; Steven couldn’t slip past the sage and salt any more than she could. Chulah didn’t sense something amiss either, or he wouldn’t be half-asleep in the chair.

  Poor guy probably hadn’t slept all night.

  “Maybe you should drink some coffee or something,” she suggested. She’d volunteer to make it for him, but had no clue how to perform domestic chores.

  He picked up a can of soda and took a swig. “I’m fine.”

  The man sure liked those drinks. She wondered what was in it. “Can I have a sip?” she asked impulsively.

  Chulah handed her the soda he was drinking and she tilted the can back, downing its contents in a long swallow. Sharp bubbles scalded her tongue and throat. Disgusting. She crinkled her nose.

  “Not your taste? I’ve got—”

  Hiccup. Her body jerked upward.

  “Aha! You rose again. Just like you did when you drank that brandy. Not a fairy, my ass.”

  She was so, so sick of the lies between them. At least, in this, she could acquiesce. The man wasn’t stupid, and she refused to slowly enchant Chulah in order to force his cooperation. “Liquid seems to have that effect on me,” she admitted.

  “It was you I saw in the woods.”

  It wasn’t a question.

  “Steven claims it’s some glitch in the glamour causing the levitation,” she continued, all business. As if this were a normal conversation. “Anyway, I came over because I thought we should have a little talk. One-on-one.” And not with his friends turning him against her.

  Chulah scowled. “Of course you did. The better to influence me, right? I can’t believe a thing you say.”

  “I’m telling the truth now. You know my deep, dark secret.” One of them, anyway.

  “Yeah, right.” He stood and paced. “Bet you have a million secrets buried under that beautiful, innocent face.”

  Beautiful. He thinks I’m beautiful. That was something she could grasp and hold on to while facing his disgust.

  “I’m not considered particularly beautiful by the other Fae,” she said casually. “To them, I’m not even run-of-the-mill pretty. ‘A bit plain’ is how I’m usually described.”

  Chulah snorted. “Impossible. Harder to believe than the fact that you aren’t human.”

  “I’m half-human. On my father’s side,” she said quickly. As if this might make her appear more acceptable and less foreign.

  “Why didn’t you tell me the truth to start with? I wouldn’t have dismissed your claim right off the bat. I’m a shadow hunter. I’ve fought supernatural beings most of my life. Hell, I have my own powers.”

  “I’m well aware of your heightened senses. And your strength.” April’s eyes roved over his broad shoulders and chest, the lean, muscular biceps of his arms. Her throat went dry remembering how it felt to be wrapped in those solid arms.

  He stared at her and she sighed. “I’m sorry. Try to see it from my point of view. I was instructed to tell as little as possible.”

  “You’re doing a fine job,” he said in a clipped voice. “Try being less of a politician. You’ll get a lot further with me that way.”

  “I will. Promise.” Lies of omission didn’t count. She kept her chin up and met his stare.

  “Very well.” Chulah returned to his seat and eyed her wearily. “I tried to find you last night. Turns out I couldn’t even locate that tree where you first appeared. You know the one I’m talking about.”

  April shifted her feet on the pine floor and smoothed her
hands over her flowered peasant skirt, debating how much to reveal and how much to keep secret. A balance between telling enough to gain his trust and not saying so much that he could use any knowledge against them. “Sure, I know the tree. It’s sacred to us, just as you and your people have sacred spots in the woods.”

  “Yes, but I bet you know exactly where our spots are and why they’re special to us.”

  “True.” No sense lying about something that obvious. “But we can’t let humans get too close. You were able to see me in Fae form because I had dropped my guard on my way there.” Thinking about his hot kiss.

  He didn’t need to know that either. Chulah was arrogant enough without further ammunition.

  “Why are you so protective of this tree?”

  “It’s sacred,” she said, skirting around the edge of his question. “As you discovered, we protect it mostly by moving it every night. It’s never in the exact same place twice.”

  “Fascinating.” His eyes seared her. Was he talking about her or the tree?

  The kiss was there between them as if it had happened seconds ago. Which reminded April—she still hadn’t conducted an experiment to see if all humans were electric when she touched them. Was it magical between any Fae and any human?

  She couldn’t speak, couldn’t move. Could barely breathe, for that matter. He felt the pull, too. He was still as an oak; only his eyes moved, lowering to her lips, and then lower, focused on the rise and fall of her breasts under the thin cotton shirt.

  The silence grew as thick and hot as Alabama humidity in the midst of summer. A fever of longing burned, scorching her with desire. This was not the mischievous kissing game of a fairy lad. This was sensual human desire. All-consuming. All-engulfing.

  Exactly what her mother must have felt with her human lover. The one she chose to live with over her own daughter. The dousing reminder cleared her brain. April tore her gaze from his face and stared at her hands in her lap.

  Chulah stood abruptly and paced again, bare feet padding the wooden floor, scarcely making a sound. For such a large man, he had the stealth of a bobcat stalking prey. No doubt one of his many hunting skills honed over the years.