Bayou Shadow Protector

by Debbie Herbert

  Tallulah’s lips pursed. “Enough.”

  “No.” She could take whatever insult Tallulah wanted to fling at her, but not when it came to the way she mistreated Chulah. “It’s time someone stood up to you besides your brother.”

  “You know nothing about me,” Tallulah said with a growl.

  “I know more about you than you do me, yet you come into my place and insult me.” April delivered her deathblow punch. “At least I don’t sleep with people that are traitors to my own kind, like you did with Hanan.”

  “It’s none of your damn business who I slept with.”

  “Right. Except while you were sleeping with Hanan, you could have had a good man like Chulah. But you were too stupid to realize it.”

  Tallulah’s hands fisted at her sides and her eyes narrowed, her whole posture tensed, like a cat ready to pounce. “You’re jealous. You’ve only known him a few days, yet I take it you think you’re in love with Chulah.”

  “Of course I love him. What’s not to love? He’s handsome and kind and strong and brave.” April stared at her adversary. Tallulah had all the same qualities as Chulah—minus the kindness.

  “You only met him days ago. I’ve known him all my life.”

  “I’ve watched him for years, been by his side whether he realized it or not.”

  She gave a sardonic laugh. “Little good that did you.”

  That truth made her eyes water, but April refused to cry. Tallulah would love it too much if she did. “Why do you care? You turned him down.”

  Tallulah’s brows arched. “He told you that?”

  She smiled enigmatically. Let Tallulah think Chulah confided everything to her. The woman’s ego could use a little shake-up.

  Tallulah drew up even taller, taking a deep breath. “The past is over. What matters now is the future. Don’t think you can lead Chulah on with some crazy airy-fairy tales.”

  “Why would I do that?”

  “Maybe you’re in league with Hoklonote. Maybe, if there really are such things as fairies, the entire lot of you want human blood for some evil purpose.”

  “Human blood?” April snorted. “We’re not vampires.” Although Tallulah was like a vampire...or a succubus...sucking a man’s soul for sheer sport. Bleeding his heart dry just to stroke her inflated ego.

  Tallulah walked over to her. Slowly, her eyes full of scorn and menace. Not stopping until she stood a mere six inches from April. “If you are tricking Chulah, it won’t do you any good. Tombi and I won’t join him if he comes back from his spirit quest with the decision to help the Fae. If there is such a thing.”

  Dread chilled April’s spine. This wasn’t something she’d considered. “I thought all the shadow hunters stuck together.”

  Tallulah grinned at April’s discomfort. “We usually do—but not always. You want us to help you, you’ll have to prove yourself.”

  “How do you expect me to do that?”

  Tallulah shrugged. “That’s your problem to figure out. Not mine.”

  Witch. “You’re doing this out of spite, aren’t you? You’d rather take a chance that I’m lying about the danger of Hoklonote just so you can get rid of me and keep stringing Chulah along for yourself.”

  “If I wanted Chulah, I would have agreed to marry him.”

  “You don’t want or love him, but you damn sure don’t want anyone else to have him, do you?” April complained bitterly.

  “Not true.”

  “Is too.”

  “Are you two fighting about my brother?”

  Tallulah whirled around and April took a step backward. Of all people, it had to be Chulah’s sister.

  “Eavesdropping?” Tallulah asked, frowning at the newcomer.

  Brenda rolled her eyes and tossed her hair. “Hardly. Y’all were so loud you didn’t hear me come in.”

  April’s shoulders sagged. Part relief, part embarrassment. “How much did you hear?”

  “Enough to know you both want him.”

  “I don’t want— Oh, never mind. You’re too young to understand,” Tallulah said dismissively.

  “Am not.” Brenda glared at Tallulah. “You’re always so mean.”

  Tallulah laid a hand over her heart. “You’ve hurt me deeply,” she said. Turning to April, she lifted her nose. “Don’t know why you went to all the bother of setting this store up. If I were you, I’d hightail it out of Bayou La Siryna now. Cut your losses.”

  “I’m telling Chulah how mean you are to April. He won’t like that.”

  Bless her heart, Brenda was sticking up for her. April couldn’t help being delighted to have a human champion. Any champion, for that matter.

  “Tattletale. Nobody likes them, Brenda.”

  “Leave her out of it,” April said to Tallulah.

  “Whatever. I was on my way out. I think I made my point.” Tallulah walked slowly toward the door with exaggerated insouciance.

  The bells tinkled as Tallulah slammed the door behind her. April relaxed and drew in a deep breath. “Thanks for sticking up for me. I’m afraid I wasn’t being very nice either.”

  “Yeah, well, you’re a whole lot nicer than Tallulah. She’s stuck-up.”

  April was in full agreement but didn’t want to be a bad influence on the young girl. Besides, she didn’t want to dwell on the encounter. “I’m glad you came. What brings you here?”

  Brenda touched a lavender lock of April’s hair. “You were going to show me how you got those streaks.”

  Joanna would have a fit if she were responsible for Brenda attempting a dye job. “Why don’t you tell me how you get your hair so silky and soft. I’d love to have your hair.”

  “Trade you if I could,” Brenda said glumly.

  “Yours is much prettier than mine.” Inspiration hit. “Let’s go upstairs. I want you to show me how you plait those gorgeous braids.”

  Brenda patted her hair. “These ole things?”

  “I’d like to do something with mine other than have it hanging loose all the time. C’mon up to my apartment and help me out.”

  Brenda’s face lit. The girl appeared much friendlier without her surly mom present. “Sure. Thanks.”

  “Follow me.” April led her past the rows and rows of glass shelves.

  “It’s like a fairyland in here,” Brenda breathed.

  April turned, catching the rapt look on the girl’s face. “Pick something out to take home.”

  “Really?”

  “Sure.”

  Brenda slowly walked up and down the aisles, only to keep returning to a large statue of a sleeping woodland sprite laying her head on a sphere of polished orange citrine as if it were a pillow. At last, she selected a small, delicate copper statue of a fairy on a swing and held it out. “This one.”

  “It’s pretty, but not the one you truly want.” April strolled to the sprite statue and lifted it off the shelf with both hands. “This was made for you.”

  Brenda shook her head. “I couldn’t. It’s too much. My mom would kill me.”

  “Why?”

  “She’d say it’s too fancy. Too expensive. That I don’t deserve it.”

  “Your mom doesn’t have to know the cost.”

  “Well...”

  “Tell her it was a gift for you working in the store this afternoon.”

  “You mean...lie?”

  Oh, dear. What was she doing? “No, of course not. Forget—”

  “Awesome idea. Thank you.” Brenda carefully gathered the statue and cradled it in her arms like a beloved baby doll.

  “Leave it on the counter and I’ll find the box for it before you go.”

  Gently, Brenda set it down, a smile of wonder on her face.

  Upstairs, Brenda plopped on the couch beside her and pointed to April’s hair. “What did you use?”

  April had researched and was ready. “Hair bleach. But that’s not important. Your hair is beautiful like it is. I want you to show me how you had it braided the other day.”

  “Why would yo
u want your hair like mine?”

  April laughed. “We all want hair we don’t have. If it’s curly, we want straight. If it’s blond, we want black. So accept what you have. Now. Braid my hair.”

  April sat still as Brenda delicately twisted strands of hair until it was up off her neck. She strode to the mirror and preened. “I love it!” And it was awesome to have the thick hair off the back of her neck. Long hair was fine flying in the evening sea breeze but not so much fun during the heat of the day.

  “Are you in love with Chulah?” Brenda asked suddenly.

  April slowly turned to face his sister. “Yes.”

  “Does he love you?”

  “Not yet.”

  “You think he will? He seems so...hard. He doesn’t much like my mom and me. Or my brothers either.”

  “I’m sure he must. Doesn’t he do things for you?”

  “Yeah, but he ain’t happy about it.”

  “But the point is...he’s there for you.”

  She shrugged. “I guess.”

  “And he’s not so hard. Tell him how much you appreciate him sometime. It would mean so much to Chulah. You’re his family.”

  “Maybe.”

  April didn’t push it. Best to plant the seed and let it germinate. She went to the window and looked outside. Her apartment was high enough that the distant woods were visible. Somewhere out there, Chulah was alone and deciding their fate.

  A great longing welled deep within, stronger than all the years of loving Chulah while he knew nothing of her. Here she was in human form, and yet they remained apart. Impatience made her squirm like a five-year-old on Christmas Eve. She touched her fingers to her lips, remembering their electric kisses. Removing her fingers, April cupped her hands and blew on them slightly, sending her love across the miles.

  * * *

  The third night was much like the first and second for Chulah. Only now he had more focus. The hunger pangs were gone. He took in the slightest nuances of sound and the textures of the wind on his skin, the gritty ground beneath his feet, the rough scratch of bark on the trees, the crunch of dried fallen leaves as he slowly walked near camp. Each step a meditation, a prayer for guidance.

  His legs tired and he started a fire and sat on his blanket, one that was woven by his great-grandmother. Tonight, the answer would come; he was sure of it. At twilight, he’d heard the rustling of a nearby fox, although the animal hadn’t yet appeared directly.

  Soon.

  Prickles of awareness ran like a current up and down his spine. The wind picked up speed and he strained to discern patterns. A familiar baritone underpinned the whoosh of air. The regular pulse of a drum methodically vibrated. Its notes rumbled in his gut as if a nearby train sped by.

  The rhythm increased tempo, louder than the rush of air. Closer and closer.

  “Father,” Chulah whispered, eyes closed. Past experience had taught him that the voice of his father was clearer with closed eyes. “I am here.”

  The wind ceased its movement.

  “My son.”

  The words filled him with utter contentment. His mother had died before his memory was born, and so it had always been him and his dad. The one person in his life who was steadfast and true.

  “You seek guidance,” his father stated, going straight to the point. The visions never lasted long. “Guidance on whether or not to assist the Fae in the war against the shadow spirits.”

  “I do.”

  “There is precedent. Before the dawn of human memory, the Fae and the shadow hunters worked together to fight the creatures of the night.”

  Wonder and hope lightened his heart.

  “But I must warn you. The Fae are not entirely trustworthy.”

  Chulah bit down on the inside of his mouth until the metallic taste of blood pooled. There was always a “but.”

  “Why? What happened to the alliance?”

  “The Fae grew greedy. They craved some of the power that was not rightfully theirs. While the shadow creatures are evil, and the shadow hunters fight for the good, the Fae beings are in between the dual forces. They fight to preserve their own realm, to keep their nature hidden from man.”

  He could hardly blame them for not wanting humans to know of their existence. Such awareness could very well result in their extinction. An image of April’s golden aura filled his mind. Such beauty was not meant for mankind, who would either covet their glory or destroy that which they could not understand.

  “Every species seeks to preserve their life. That’s a law of nature.”

  “To a point,” his father cautioned. “Problem is, the Fae will form secret alliances with either side as it suits their purpose.”

  “And so our people considered them too risky and broke ties,” Chulah guessed. His father wouldn’t be able to say, but Chulah asked anyway, long shot or not. “What about April? Should I trust her?”

  “You know I cannot answer that for you,” he said, resigned. “I can only provide light on what has been. You are the future and must forge your own path.” A tinge of sadness crept into his voice. “I am but a shadow of what has passed and never will be again.”

  The wind crept up, rustling the limbs above and the leaves below. His father’s time was short.

  “Thank you, Father,” Chulah said, the words a benediction and farewell. Who knew when or if the spirits would ever grant them communion again?

  “I raised you well, my son.”

  He strained to hear the words. His father’s voice was fading fast, growing distant.

  “I have faith in you, Chulah. You will make the right decision.”

  If only he could be as sure.

  Chapter 7

  The promise of dawn etched the sky, and the internal debate had not ceased. No easy answer was to be found. He wanted stark, crisp facts edged with concrete borders marked wise or foolish. Yet even April’s Fae essence defied precise definition. Her human side was lovely, sparkly and electric while her Fae side was a glow that burned hot at the center and dissipated outward into an ethereal aura.

  Chulah tried to keep faith as the hint of the morning’s rays shone on the eastern horizon. Time was almost up.

  Send me a sign. Right now.

  Awareness prickled his scalp and the nape of his neck—familiar and comforting. The unseen presence that had been a childhood invisible friend that never left.

  It grew stronger, gentle as a mother tracing her newborn baby’s face, an instinctive bond sealed with the wild, ancient scent of violets and oak moss.

  * * *

  “April,” he commanded. “Show yourself.”

  He held his breath. If she appeared, would it be as the female vixen with the touch that sent shock waves through his body, or as the glowing, winged fairy he could only admire from a distance? The day poised between dawn and dusk, shadows and light, magic and mundane.

  She stepped from behind a tree, silver hair of moonlight, blue-purple eyes framed by opal skin—milk-white flesh that reflected specks of purple, pink, blue and silver. April glided toward him, not quite a walk, but not flying either.

  Chulah stood and held out a hand. In an instant she was by him—solid and oh so very real. His April of the Meadows, who shook the foundation of his ordered world. She extended both her hands, too exquisite and ethereal to be solidly human.

  A ray of sunlight splintered through the treetops and April’s form grew solid. He clasped her hands in his own and tingles spread from his palms to the soles of his feet.

  “I want to trust you. But I’ve been warned about the Fae and their selfish motives.” He released her hands, taking a step backward. He needed to think clearly, unencumbered by her electric touch. “Do you really want to work with the hunters to capture Hoklonote? Is he actually a threat to us and other humans?”

  “He’s dangerous for both our kind. I—that is, we—can help. We have in the past, although it’s been so long ago that humans have forgotten.”

  “So I’ve been told. But again, why s
hould I trust you? Do you have a hidden motive for seeking me out?”

  She hesitated, so brief he might have imagined it.

  “I chose to seek you over the other hunters because I’ve watched you over the years. You are a good, honorable man.”

  “Hardly.”

  Chulah almost laughed. Sure, he did all the right things, performed his duty by his family and the other hunters. But deep inside, he did so with a grudging spirit. There was no joy in dealing with the cold Joanna and his troublesome half siblings. Tombi and the other shadow hunters were his friends and he’d die for them, but all the responsibilities weighed on him, oppressed his spirits.

  The only times he was truly happy was when he was immersed in repairing motorcycles, or riding alone on one through the back roads of the bayou. Chulah longed to be wild, free, unencumbered by duty.

  “Why do you say that? You’ve financially taken care of your family since you were a teenager. And you are the best trekker of all the hunters. Without you, Nalusa would never have been captured.”

  “You give me too much credit.” It was disconcerting to realize just how much she knew about his past. And although she’d seen his outside actions, she couldn’t know that inside he was dead—a hollowed-out shell of a man. Especially since he’d made a fool of himself proposing to Tallulah.

  “No, I don’t. Why can’t—”

  He cleared his throat. “Stop. Are you trying to flatter me so I’ll agree to help you? The real question here, again, is why should I trust you?”

  “Why would I lie? What would be the point?”

  “Maybe only your fairy world is in danger and you want to use me, use all of us. Maybe you’re working with Hoklonote to draw us into a compromising position so that you can defeat us for good.”

  “It’s not true. Is there anything I can do to prove I’m telling the truth?”

  “No.”

  He studied her anxious face, the way she twisted her hands in front of her body. “Guess it all comes down to a matter of trust.”

  “Guess so. Unless...” Her face lit up and she gave a broad smile. “Perhaps there is a way.”

  “What did you have in mind?”

  “What if I could prove I was a true friend to you—or, at least, that I always cared about you? Could you trust me then?”