by Megan Hart
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.
“It’s what your grandma wanted, too,” he reminded her, pushing Annie to make a commitment.
She nodded, slowly putting down the picture. “I’m ready.”
He tamped down a satisfied smile. What the hell was wrong with him? Her grandmother was probably dying. A familiar fear flickered along his nerves. He was turning into the shadows he hunted, losing his humanity and compassion.
“Should I bring anything?” she asked.
“No, I have all the provisions we’ll need.”
She set about blowing out the scattered candles flickering in the room, grief making each act seem like a small goodbye.
“You’ll be back tomorrow afternoon,” he said.
“I wonder when—or if—Grandma Tia will ever come back. This place may not be much, but she loved it.”
He considered his surroundings more carefully. The worn furniture, the framed pictures, saint paintings and jars full of wildflowers strewn everywhere. It was an unexpected blow to his heart, reminding him of a similar modest place filled with colorful wool rugs and books and carved statues his father had whittled. A home that always smelled faintly of corn bread and wood shavings. A place swept away by Hurricane Katrina, along with a peace he never expected to find again.
“It’s her home. Your home,” he said simply.
“Yes. I only lived here during the summers, but it felt like my true home. The one place where I was wanted.” Annie cleared her throat and set her shoulders back. “Let’s go.”
She didn’t need to tell him a third time. “Okay. I’ll wait for you outside.”
He left, sensing she needed to collect her emotions before leaving. Night had come once again, bringing with it danger and whispers in the wind. But it was also beautiful in its own dark, mysterious way. The full moon shone bloodred, and the tall trees stood like sinister sentinels of doom.
Annie popped her head out the door. “Do we need flashlights?”
“Not necessary.”
She gave him a quizzical look as she shut the door and locked up. “How about you explain a few things to me before we get to the campsite?” She pocketed her keys in a small, crocheted purse and joined him.
“What questions do you have?” he asked reluctantly. Tombi set off in long strides toward the trail. Normally, he evaded questions from outsiders, but Annie would be part of the hunt tonight, and she had a right to ask.
“For starters, how do you see so well in the dark? And slow down before I trip on a tree root or run into a tree.”
He slowed. “Sorry. I’m not used to being with an outsider.”
“I’m always an outsider,” she mumbled.
“No offense. It’s just a word we use for those not of our nation.” He took hold of her hand. “It will be safer this way.”
To hell with that. It was electric. He guessed from Annie’s sharp inhale that she felt the same current buzzing through her body. He forced himself to focus on the path. This was no time to indulge in lustful distractions. Mistakes out here got a man killed.
“Lesson one. I have unnatural night vision, as do the rest of the hunters. It’s how we were first identified by our ancestors. And since all natural gifts have a purpose—” he squeezed her hand “—they soon found why. It was one of the gifts from the spirits for us to fight and protect ourselves from the evil ones.”
Annie snorted. “I don’t believe all so-called gifts are for a reason. Sometimes things just are. Like genetic mutations. And why does evil exist in the first place? The spirits didn’t have to allow Nalusa power.”
“Why does your God allow the devil to live?” he countered. “It’s impossible to question such things. We have to deal with what is instead of trying to pry into the intelligence of our creators.”
“You have a point,” she admitted grudgingly. “But go on—what other abilities do you have as a shadow hunter?”
He continued, glad Annie’s questions seemed to keep her distracted from her anger against him. “As you guessed, we can control our energies. Which usually means creatures don’t sense us until we are very close.”
She stumbled slightly, and he steadied her. “I can see how that’s useful. What powers do your enemies have?”
His enemies. Tombi searched the gathering twilight. “They can’t sense energy as well as we can, but they have their own elements of surprise. Nalusa can shape-shift to other forms. You saw him as a snake.”
Her tiny hand trembled in his own.
“Sometimes he appears as a tall, dark being with small eyes and pointed ears. And there are the will-o’-the-wisps he controls. They can take you alive or steal a soul that’s not yet crossed over to the land of the dead.”
“But why? What does he gain?”
“Evil doesn’t always need a reason to exist. It’s the nature of the universe, the duality of our world. But in Nalusa’s case, any kind of death or destruction, any human suffering, contributes to his power. He feeds off our misery.”
“He sounds like the very devil,” she whispered. “Sorry, but I hope we don’t run into him tonight.” Annie shivered but continued to pick her way through the woods with his guidance, carefully stepping forward and trying to avoid the large, gnarly tree roots that erupted from the soil.
Even with his heightened senses, Tombi’s night vision was limited. He could see enough to break the dark into lighter and darker shadows and to be sensitive, like a cat, to any kind of movement, even from a considerable distance.
They would arrive at camp in minutes. Would she find any of his people were really betrayers, working against them and for the dark side? That was the worst part of the shadow world; they could insidiously invade your mind and heart. You had to be constantly on guard against their influence.
“What, exactly, do you do when you find Nalusa or a wisp?” Annie asked, breaking his melancholy thoughts.
“I’ll tell you when we get to camp. It’s not wise to speak of such things out here in the woods.”
Her eyes darted around the path, as if expecting Nalusa to grab her any second, but she kept moving forward.
He silently kept watch over her as she stumbled along, wondering at her stor
y. He couldn’t afford to discount Annie’s claim of speaking with Bo. His friend—so powerful and so close to the tribe—might have found a way to do what no other trapped soul had done before: break through a wisp’s barrier and speak a warning.
That was, if Annie wasn’t lying, if she wasn’t under any shadow influence. There was no way to judge. He’d observe her closely for any inconsistencies or suspicious moves.
Because that was the worst power his enemy possessed, the most dangerous. He could rot your soul on the inside, could find purchase in the flimsiest of your sins and make them into something larger, until they became a wicked cancer that contaminated your mind. All the while, on the outside, your friends and family couldn’t tell the invisible transformation beneath skin and bones.
The worst evil was the one that lived in your own heart, waiting to be fed and exploited by the shadows.
* * *
As always, Annie heard before she saw: a low murmur of voices, a rustling of feet against earth and a thrum of excitement like the muted power and hum of an ocean undertow.
And she was about to be dragged down into the strong current.
The closer to camp, the stronger the pull. At last the other hunters came into view, dark shadows with eyes that occasionally glowed like a cat’s with refracted moonbeams. Those pinpricks of light focused on her and Tombi, but mostly her.
“How come your eyes don’t glow like that?” she whispered.
“Those of us who are masters at containing our energy are able to suppress any sign that gives away our location.”
“There’s more people tonight than the group I met earlier.”
“You only met my inner circle this morning.”
One of the shadows moved closer. “We wondered where you were,” said a low voice.
Annie recognized that voice. Hanan. Some people never forgot a face; but she never forgot a voice.
“So you brought her again.” His voice was flat, neutral as Switzerland, but Annie registered the dig.
Tombi’s hand rested on her shoulder. Possessive, comforting. Her insides warmed from the contact.
“Annie might help us turn the tide against Nalusa.”
She silently berated herself. She was only important to him if she suited his purposes. Best to remember that.
Hanan nodded. “Barrett needs to speak with you before he sets out.”
Tombi released her shoulder. “Be back in a minute.”
The two men walked off together beyond her sight and sound. Annie marveled at their self-containment. She was in a group of over twenty people, yet the music was subdued and manageable.
A sharp pinch at her elbow caught Annie completely by surprise.
“You may have my brother fooled, but not me,” Tallulah said in a fierce whisper. Her eyes glinted with suspicion. A jangle of minor keys plunked the air surrounding her tall, lithe figure. “You never talked to my Bo. If he could talk, his spirit would have come to me, not you, witch.”
Her Bo. So that was how it had been between them. Tombi should have mentioned that the two of them were lovers. Still, it was hard to find sympathy for the malicious Tallulah.
“I didn’t seek him out,” Annie protested. “I can’t help it.”
“I can’t help it,” Tallulah mocked in a high-pitched trembly voice. “What’s your real game? Who sent you here?”
Where was Tombi? Annie scanned the campground, where hunters’ shadows moved into the woods and disappeared into darkness. They moved alone or sometimes in groups of two. Loners. Instead of talking, they used a series of hand signals to communicate. A few she could understand—wait, this way, goodbye—but most she couldn’t decipher.
Tombi appeared suddenly from behind. “Go,” he told Tallulah in a low, harsh voice.
Chulah materialized by Tallulah’s side and motioned for her to join him.
But Tallulah wasn’t finished. She edged closer, and her harsh breath was in Annie’s ear. “I’ll be watching you.” With that, Tallulah spun around and sauntered into the woods, Chulah close at hand.
“She’s had a hard time since Bo’s death,” said Tombi.
Of course he’d defend his sister. But Annie found it hard to muster understanding for that Amazon. Tombi’s twin possessed a black panther’s stealthiness, a feline wildness marked by sharp claws and growls and hisses.
Annie would come out on the losing end of that catfight.
“We need to talk.” Tombi motioned, and she followed him into his tent. The darkness was utter under the canopy. She sat down on a pallet made of blankets. A low, throbbing drumbeat suffused the tight space between their bodies.
She wanted to sink into that sound, to lie down and fold into the steady, pulsating notes. Feel its vibration stroke her naked skin.
“The tent will muffle our voices a bit. I’m laying down a few rules before we start.”
The baritone filled the cramped space with its power. Too bad his words tempered the sexy effect of his music.
“I won’t cause trouble,” she whispered, curtailing the teenaged desire to roll her eyes. “I’ll stick close and keep quiet.”
“Good.” He leaned over, and she felt the hot skin of an arm and the side of his waist brush against her chest and face. Her breath quickened. His scent, his aura, drew her to him, and she was helpless to fight the pull. Being near him was sexually hypnotic. How easy it would be to reach out and pull him closer. Feel the weight of his body on top of her own. Despite the sadness of the evening and her chaotic thoughts, she was drawn to his music, as if her were the Pied Piper of the bayou.
The tent was intimate. She didn’t want to hunt, she wanted to stay here, with Tombi. Safe and protected and exploring the pleasure of his body.
Crazy.
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. She saw how he defended his sister. In spite of Tallulah’s nastiness, he made allowances for her grief. 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?
In the hushed darkness, their breathing forged wisps of desire that swirled in the confined area.
Tombi groaned, as if admitting defeat, and his weight slammed into her, sending them both down, bodies pressed hard against the earth. His lips and tongue were on her, in her, warm and electric.
He moaned again—no, wait, that was her this time. Her body was in a fever of longing. Annie couldn’t remember the last time—if ever—she had been so desperate with desire. Need curled and twisted her gut.
“You’re so damn sexy,” Tombi ground out.
Passion flamed hotter in her veins, along with triumph and humble gratitude that she, misfit Annie Mathews, could affect him so much. She arched against him, and his mouth tracked kisses down her neck and past the hollow at the base of her throat. He pushed up her T-shirt and unhooked her bra. One of his hands glided to her breasts and palmed her rounded flesh. His mouth lowered and covered a nipple, his tongue flicking the bud, sending unbearable need to her core. Tombi’s full manhood ground against her, hard and insistent.
“Tombi? Tombi? You there?”
The insistent whisper outside the tent flap exploded on their private ecstasy.
“Damn it,” Tombi muttered. In a heartbeat, he pulled away and ran a hand through his long hair.
Annie watched him scramble ou
t the tent and hugged her arms to her waist, missing his heat and touch. Quickly, she hooked her bra and pulled down her shirt. She felt disoriented. Seconds ago her mind and body had been united and focused on physical release. Now her thoughts were chaos.
Low murmurs sounded nearby. Was there some kind of trouble? Annie silently crawled to the tent’s front and poked her head out the slotted opening. Tombi and Hanan were several feet away, and they immediately turned as one to stare at her.
Not much, if anything, would get past these men. They could probably pick up a frog’s croak from a hundred yards out. She ducked her head back inside, as if she’d been caught eavesdropping.
Tombi crawled into the tent and sat as far from her as he could in the small space.
The passion party was definitely over.
“So here are the simple rules,” he said, as if nothing had happened between them. “Stay within arm’s reach of me and avoid talking unless it’s an emergency. I’ll be searching for will-o’-the-wisps, and when I come within range, I’ll shoot it with a slingshot. We aim for the glowing heart in the middle. If we hit it dead-on, the wisp will release the spirit and lose its power.”
“And the trapped spirit will be freed?”
“Exactly.” He hesitated. “I’ve been searching for one wisp in particular.”
“Bo,” she guessed. “You want to help your friend.”
He nodded. “If you hear Bo again or sense he’s near, point me in the right direction. Other sounds to beware of are snake rattles or music from the wisps. You might hear them before me. If you do, tap my arm.”
She cringed at the thought of snakes. “Seems like the wisps would be easy targets with the way they glow and the music they make.”
“But nature’s provided them with speed and the ability to momentarily lose their light. Makes it hard to zero in on them.”
“And what has nature granted you? What does it mean when you say you can control your energy?”
