Bayou Shadow Protector

by Debbie Herbert

  Unbidden, an image arose of Larkin, her special tormentor during adolescence. Around the other Fae, he called her names and ridiculed her half-Fae status, but when he caught her alone it was far worse. More than once, it had been a near thing escaping his unwanted advances. April tamped down the unpleasant memories.

  “Aha... I heard your thoughts. You could ostracize Larkin for the rest of his existence if you so desired.”

  “I have to admit it’s a little tempting. But no—I would never hurt someone the way I was punished. The way you sentenced me to ostracism.”

  “Your human side makes you weak.”

  “Compassion is a strength, not a weakness.”

  “So said Fawn, your dear mother. Uncanny.”

  Her breath caught. “You knew her?”

  He chuckled, an oily rumble that held no mirth. “Not as well as I wanted to. She preferred that base human over me.”

  Dread prickled her scalp. Grady had been her mother’s Larkin. Her breath caught. “You killed her.”

  He chuckled again. “Had to. One of my finest works,” he sneered. “Convinced all the fairies that a wisp killed her as she was running away to her lover, leaving you behind.”

  “She never meant to leave me behind. She loved me.”

  “Did she ever. Begged me to let her live so that she could return to you.”

  Bastard. “You hate me because you see my father when you look at me. You failed where he succeeded.”

  “Don’t presume you can read my mind,” he shouted above the roaring wind. “I hate you as much as any other bastardized halfling.”

  “There’s nothing more you can do to hurt me.”

  “There’s a great deal I can do.”

  “Like what? Kill me like you did my mother?” If Chulah didn’t love her, if the fairy kingdom was to be usurped by the dark shadow spirits, her life didn’t count for much anyway. April turned her back and continued down the path.

  “Wait. What do you think you’re doing?” Grady floated in front of her, flapping his hideous purple wings.

  “Walking away.”

  “You can’t walk away from me, you...you...” he blustered, more red clouds spiraling in his white aura.

  “Impure halfling? Tainted half-breed? I’ve heard the insults all my life. No words can offend me. You already killed my mother. There’s nothing to threaten me with.”

  The red smoke settled at his feet and a smile curved his lips. “Chulah.”

  April tamped down the panic swirling in her mind. “He means nothing to me.”

  “Liar. You think you love him.”

  She tried to think of something—anything—other than Chulah. Tried and failed.

  “You would do anything to save him, wouldn’t you? Stop helping the shadow hunters kill the wisps and the Ishkitini, and all will be forgiven.” He paused for effect. “Or else.”

  She ignored the threat. “Why do you care so much what I do? I’m a mere halfling. Not important enough to concern yourself with.”

  “Weellll...you do have the power to roam in human form for extended periods of time. An ability we could spin to our advantage. Infiltrate yourself with Chulah and the others. Enchant him and report back to us his plans.”

  “No.”

  “Do it or I’ll kill Chulah.”

  “He’ll sense you before you see him. Sniff you out at a hundred yards. You stink now, Grady, in case you didn’t know. Stink to the After Life like peat burning rot.”

  He sniffed delicately and frowned. “I smell nothing, but your thoughts confirm what your mouth is speaking.” He glanced upward for a moment, then blinked at her in excitement. “I’ve got it. I’ll keep you with me. When he seeks you, I’ll demand his cooperation in exchange for your life.”

  “There’s a huge flaw in your plan.”

  “What?”

  “Chulah hates me now. He doesn’t give a damn about my well-being. He wouldn’t sacrifice his principles on a lying nobody like me.”

  “So you say.”

  April felt a probing inside her thoughts, a heavy finger that pushed and illuminated what she would keep secret, the light burning out the thoughts she’d rather keep hidden in the dark recesses of her mind and heart.

  “You were telling the truth,” Grady said in surprise.

  “So you see, there’s nothing you can do to me.” April shoved off. “Now get out of my way. I’m going home.”

  Grady didn’t move. “There is one thing.”

  April ignored him, walked around his fat, fiery form and kept going. He morphed back in front of her on the path. “Untethering.”

  The blood rushed from her face and dread rooted her like an anchor. This was worse than ostracizing or death. “You wouldn’t. You can’t. Only the queen—”

  “The queen granted me this power long ago.”

  “You have to have a reason. You can’t do this just because you don’t like me.”

  “Silence.” Blackness washed over his aura. “I do what I want. No one can stop me. Especially not a halfling like you.”

  April sank to her knees, as if she’d been sucker punched. “Please. No.” She hated the desperation in her voice, wanted to be strong and clever. Tallulah, Chulah’s real love, would never sink to begging. Nothing would scare that woman. No doubt, it was one of the many things Chulah loved about her.

  Grady laughed, pleased with her suffering, her pleas for mercy. Sick bastard loved the control of holding her life and happiness on his own shifting whims. Felt most alive when demonstrating his power.

  “Give me a reason I shouldn’t purge you of every Fae power.”

  Because it might reduce her to madness. Because it would leave her with no ties to any world. Untethered. Because her life would be meaningless. A giant, purposeless void.

  “I care nothing about your feelings,” he sneered.

  Her mind scrambled, searching for a way to appease Grady, to buy a little time. “Maybe I could be of use to you?”

  “Now you’re talking.” His form turned back to pure white. “You can help me capture the shadow hunters.”

  No! “I would if I could,” she lied. “But it’s over. Chulah would never trust me again. I can’t help—”

  “Stop with your lies. I hear your thoughts. Remember?”

  “But I’m telling the truth about them not trusting me now.”

  “Use your fairy enchantment to gain his trust and affection again.”

  April took a deep breath. She had to make Grady believe she would do this. Had to block him from her mind.

  Yes, I’ll do it. My only hope is to enchant Chulah. Yes, yes and hell yes.

  She concentrated, repeating the phrase like a mantra.

  Grady hissed, a sibilant sound that slithered down her spine. “You can’t fool me, little girl. Cooperate, or live alone, tethered to the earth, siphoned away from Fairy with no magic.”

  It wasn’t the stripping of power per se that terrified her. The tales in Fairy painted a dismal story of those untethered from the realm. They wandered human land, broken and confused and pining to return home.

  “I can’t do it. I won’t betray Chulah.”

  She’d hurt him enough. And now he would never know how much she truly loved him. That stung like a jagged dagger plunged in her soul. Her own kind wouldn’t even be aware of the noble sacrifice to save them.

  Grady puffed into a shining ball of fire that burned black at its core. “Last chance.”

  Heat singed her tender human flesh. Death by fire would be most gruesome.

  “Not as gruesome as the untethering. So what’s your answer? Yes or no?”

  “No.” Her whisper roared through the swamp and she trembled uncontrollably, despite the heat from Grady’s incendiary form. She tried to be noble and brave, face down disaster like a shadow hunter. But her terror was too great and untrained for confronting evil. She had no weapon or ability to fight off her attacker.

  “So be it.”

  A roaring exploded in h
er mind. The sounds of grinding metal gears, wails of torment, whistles and moans and chanting and fire crackling. Hell. She crumbled, as if her spine was yanked from her skeletal frame, leaving her without support. She was rolling, faster and faster, as if racing to a cliff’s edge. The earth and grass and leaves were scorched, and pine needles pricked exposed flesh. Desperately, she clutched the fairy cross stone around her neck, invoking magic to change from human to fairy.

  Nothing. It was merely a pretty, useless rock.

  Weakness left her dizzy. She’d rumble downhill forever, or until she reached the void of a dead end. Even if she found the strength to resist the fall, she’d lost control of her body’s function. Inexplicably, everything stopped.

  “That’s merely a taste, little one,” Grady said. She heard the smile in his voice. “Changed your mind? I won’t ask again.”

  “No. Not ever.”

  “Stupid, foolish halfling. Good riddance.” The stink of Grady vanished.

  Fever blistered her body, scorched her lungs. Yet the torture centered her scattered thoughts. Pain purified, cleansed, fused mind and body as one to combat the origin’s source. April crawled toward an oak. The giant tree trunk wobbled from left to right and everything around it in a circular blizzard. Her vision jumbled like a snow globe—bits and pieces swirling haphazardly. Needles dug in her raw kneecaps. Something viciously scratched her palms like a nest of nettles.

  Good.

  It meant she was alive. Capable of still feeling. Anything was better than the frozen void of madness. Untethered Fae were rare, but legend had it that their eyes were as vacant and soulless as a zombie. No stinky, rotten flesh for the Fae, though. Even in the worst desecration, they were beautiful beings. Flickering forms, not quite human or fairy, they roamed the night with unseeing eyes that seemed to search for their lost souls. Occasionally they wailed. Humans once called them banshees.

  Rough bark dug into her fingertips and she wanted to weep in gratitude. Eagerly, she wrapped her arms around the trunk, willing the tree to infuse her with its ancient life force.

  Again, nothing. The magic was forever lost.

  But the will to survive was strong. Stronger than she’d ever imagined. April gathered her shattered body together and gripped the tree with everything left. Bark sliced her arms and she laid a cheek against the beautiful, jagged texture. Alive. Still alive. The muscles of her arms screamed as she pulled to a standing position. Heavy breathing pillowed into wisps of fog. She leaned against the tree, willing her legs to steady and strengthen on their own.

  Cold chilled her spine, made more extreme from the earlier intense heat. Salty wind whipped her flesh and hair. She ran numbed fingers down her stomach. What had happened to her jacket and jeans? Only a flimsy white cotton slip protected her from the elements. It looked like a shroud from days of old. Stop it. Move.

  April took a tentative step from the tree. Her knees wobbled, but held. Keep moving, that was the ticket. If she gave in to the cold and the aching fatigue, all was over. Head bent, arms rubbing arms, torso bunched forward, she walked. Step by step, she fought the near-overwhelming desire to burrow into a bed of leaves, curl into a ball and sleep into oblivion.

  Cursed. You’re forever cursed.

  April shoved the terrible mind whisperings away, the miasma of misery that surrounded her on all sides. She concentrated on the rhythm of her steps, the pattern of her breathing. Left foot forward. Chu. Right foot forward. Lah. Chu-lah. Chu-lah.

  It was all for him. Her penance for the sin she’d committed so long ago. A walking purgatory of shame. Chu-lah. Chu-lah.

  Forever and ever he’d haunt her heart.

  Chapter 15

  She didn’t show.

  Chulah stuffed down the roast and potatoes without the usual enjoyment.

  “April must have a good reason,” Joanna said for the dozenth time. “She seemed so eager to see you tonight.”

  “Forget about it,” Chulah muttered. “I have.”

  Joanna frowned at Brenda. “It’s rude to look at your cell phone during dinner.”

  “Just checking to see if April got my message.”

  “You have her phone number?” Seemed his little sister was more connected to April than he was.

  “The number at her store. No one’s answering it, though.”

  He wanted to ask for the number, but he wouldn’t need it now. April was off-limits. Whenever he saw her beautiful face, all he’d remember was that she might have kept him from saving his father.

  He shrugged as if he couldn’t care less. But being stood up stung, even if the whole arrangement had been thrust on him.

  Brenda’s familiar scowl was back in place. “How can you be mad at someone like April? She’s pretty and kind and—”

  Joanna cut her a kill-it motion with her hand, shaking her head slightly.

  The hero worship was getting a little old. Had April used some magic pixie dust on Brenda? The girl believed April was perfect. Bet she’d do a three-sixty if she knew April might have caused her father’s death.

  But that little secret was between him and April. No need for his family to be dragged into the past with all its what-ifs and if-onlys. It would only cause them more pain. Despite his strained relationship with them, they were blood kin. No choice but to have them a part of his life.

  April was optional.

  “Pie, anyone?” Joanna rose from the table. “I made pecan. Your favorite, Chulah.”

  Okay, that did it. She was buttering him up for something. Cooking his favorite meal, calling him “son” and visiting him at work this morning. He’d been flattered and sucked in at her attentions, but time for the show to end.

  “Everything okay with the boys?” he asked.

  “I told you they were fine.” She went into the kitchen and returned with the pie and clean plates.

  Chulah’s mouth watered. Pecan pie made everything a little bit better. Joanna carved him a generous slice and he bit into the sugary, crunchy warmth. Heaven.

  Chulah dug into the back pocket of his jeans and pulled out his wallet.

  “What are you doing?” his stepmother asked with narrowed eyes.

  “Figured you might need some money.” He riffled through a wad of bills. “How much?”

  “We don’t need your money.”

  That was a first. “You sure?”

  “Not at the moment.”

  Which meant she was going to spring some future expense on him. He waited.

  “Pie’s getting cold,” she noted.

  Had he misjudged her? Chulah stuffed his wallet back into his jeans pocket and resumed eating.

  The “Sweet Home Alabama” ringtone blasted on Brenda’s phone and they all froze and stared. Brenda grabbed it and glanced at the screen. “It’s April.”

  Heat diffused on his neck. Would she lie about the true nature of their split and make him appear even more a fool? Bad enough she’d stood him up in front of his family. Not that it was a date or anything. He was done with her.

  Brenda’s brows drew together. “Oh? We haven’t seen her either. She told Mom she’d be here for dinner.”

  A knot of worry tied in his gut. She’s fine. Not my responsibility. He had enough duty and burdens without adding a deceitful fairy to the mix. He was well rid—

  “Okay.” Brenda handed him the phone. “It’s Steven.”

  Chulah took it and sighed. “What’s up?”

  “I think April’s in trouble,” he began without preamble. “She was supposed to report to the Council hours ago and didn’t show.”

  He tamped down the jolt of concern. “So she blew them off.”

  Steven laughed, a guttural, bitter rumble. “You don’t blow off the Council. Especially not in an emergency.”

  “Or else...what?”

  “Trust me, there’s a whole range of consequences. None of them good.”

  Heartburn seared his chest and he pushed away the rest of the uneaten pie. Be logical. This might be a ploy by April
to draw him back to her. Maybe she was foolishly running away again, as she had as a teenager. Rebelling from her duties.

  Brenda tugged at his arm. He frowned, but the sight of her young face, drawn up in worry, stopped him short. The heavy eye makeup and dark lipstick only emphasized the smooth, unlined planes of her face, the innocence in her eyes. She was so very young. And yet April had been about this same age when she’d acted so foolishly.

  Youth could be forgiven many things.

  Chulah awkwardly patted her arm and left the room to avoid their questioning glances. “Can’t the Fae find her?” he asked in a low voice. He strode down the hallway to his childhood bedroom and shut the door.

  “No. None of us can pick up a trace of her or her magic.”

  Despite his growing alarm, Chulah was curious. “How do you trace Fae magic?”

  “Same way you can track dark spirits, I imagine...a certain scent, a familiar energy pattern, faint sounds. Look, are you going to help us or not?” he snapped. “I know you two had some kind of falling-out, but you need her.”

  “You mean the fairies need her,” Chulah corrected.

  “We both need April. So get your ass over here and help me search.”

  The order didn’t sit well with Chulah. “Now, see here—”

  “Please.”

  The magic word. And if he didn’t go, he’d spend the evening imagining all sorts of horrible scenarios. This didn’t mean he forgave April; he’d do this for anyone in possible danger. “I’ll meet you in the woods by the abandoned hunters’ lodge. You know where that is?”

  “Of course.” A heartbeat of silence. “And thank you.”

  “You can thank me if I find her. Be there in twenty.” He turned off the phone and gazed blankly at the walls. His old stickball medals still hung above the corner desk. Without thinking, he walked over and ran his calloused palms over the shiny medallions. A smile hovered on his lips. Good times. The ancient Choctaw sport had been an outlet during his tumultuous teen years. Sweat therapy.

  Surprising that Joanna had kept them.

  A soft knock at the door interrupted his reverie and he dropped the medals. “Come in.”