by Megan Hart
“So I need a guide that will cloak my supernatural hearing, not so that I can be invisible to others, but to prevent my picking up their auras.” She smiled. “I’m ready to meet mine.” Problem solved.
Tombi snorted. “Not many are able to connect on their first attempt.”
“Then I’ll keep trying until I meet him or her...or it, if my guide turns out to be an animal instead of an ancestor. Can we do it now?”
“Try it tonight at dusk. It is said that’s the most opportune time, when the sun descends from the sky and gives way to the mysterious moon. When all around supernatural forces awaken and lengthen the shadows of men.”
Which meant a wait time of several hours. “Will you be with me when I try?”
He shook his head. “It’s something you need to do alone, in your own way. I’m sure you and your grandmother already have rituals for this.”
“Hmm.” Annie tapped a finger to her lips. She’d pore over her grandma’s grimoire today and find a root working.
“For novices, most guides will appear in dreams. As you lie in bed tonight, concentrate on your intent to meet your guide in dreamland.” He cocked his head to one side. “I’ll sort of be with you, after all.”
“Come again?”
“I want you to spend the night with me.”
Annie’s face flamed with heat.
“Not in the same bed,” he hastened to explain. A slow, sexy smile carved his face. “Unless you want to.”
Oh, she wanted. She spoke quickly, hoping he wouldn’t sense her flustered nerves. “I’m sleeping here tonight, in my own bed, with only fifteen steps to a working toilet—thank you very much.”
“We wouldn’t be sharing a tent in the woods. The hunt is over for this month, remember? You could stay with me at my cabin.”
“I think I’ll do better here at my own home, working at my own altar.” Here, she felt closer to her grandma’s presence, could perhaps draw on Tia’s energy for help. “Besides, I’ve got a ton of stuff I need to get caught up on—groceries, bills, the usual.”
“And I’m sure you want to visit your grandmother again. How is she doing?”
“Still in a coma.”
He swore under his breath. “I’m responsible.”
She should argue he wasn’t, because it was obvious he felt guilty. But Annie still harbored resentment. He had brought Nalusa to them; they would never have drawn that spirit’s attention otherwise.
“Time apart will do us good,” she said, picking up their empty plates and putting them in the sink. She needed time to do some research. Visit Tia again and see if her grandma had any more messages or could help her in her quest. “Hanan said you were behind at work, anyway.”
He opened his mouth, and she kept talking, to forestall more objections. “What kind of work do you do?”
“I’m a carpenter,” he answered tersely. “There’s no reason we can’t both do our own thing during the day and then be together tonight.”
Annie dropped the forks she was rinsing, and they clanged in the sink.
A chair scraped, and Tombi stood behind her, placing his hands on her shoulders. “I don’t expect anything from you. We won’t share the same bed.”
“Why are you so insistent I spend the night at your cabin?”
He hesitated, as if not wanting to tell her his reason.
“Well?”
“It’s no longer safe for you to stay alone,” he admitted. “Nalusa knows where you live.”
Astonished, she turned around to face him, not realizing how close he stood. The nearness of their lips made her throat dry. Annie jerked back toward the sink. “I won’t open the door for anyone. I’ll be fine.”
“I won’t take no for an answer.”
“I don’t care what you do, but I want to stay here tonight, and that’s the end of that.”
Tense silence settled around them in the tiny kitchen.
“I’ll leave you alone, then. For now,” he said.
It sounded like a promise to return. She kept her eyes glued to the window and didn’t see him leave, only heard the creak of the door as he exited. The door reopened.
“Lock up behind me,” he ordered.
Before she could reply, the door shut again, and she obediently locked up. She watched as he strode down the driveway. His golden skin gleamed, kissed by the sun, and his black hair hung past his shoulders, as dark as if it carried the energy of the night.
Day and night. Sun and moon. Hunter and hunted. Tombi was a living veil between this world and the spirit world that he entered into at will.
A dangerous protector. He’d brought her and Grandma Tia danger, but he’d also offered his protection. She sensed he was an honorable man who took his word seriously.
Could he really be the key to her escape from this personal auditory hell, or did he plan on using her? He might be honorable, but he’d set his own code as to what was right and where his duties lay.
Lesson One hadn’t gone the way she’d anticipated, but at least it was a start. Annie set about rummaging through Tia’s books and papers, gathering them into a pile on the kitchen table. The stack was over a foot high. With a sigh, she opened a grimoire and began leafing through the yellowed paper filled with her grandma’s bold handwriting, with its fat loops and exaggerated serifs. An acrid, licorice smell of myrrh and camphor wafted through the old tome. Bits of dried leaves and herbs crumbled into the binding and spilled on to the open pages.
Annie’s heart spasmed painfully beneath her ribs. She missed Tia with an ache that tightened her throat. Was her grandma faring any better today? She had to know.
* * *
For such a little bit of a woman, Annie sure had a huge stubborn streak. How could she possibly think she could defend herself against Nalusa and the shadow world? And what if she was part of that world, and that was why she was unafraid? He had to make her willing to stay with him in the evenings.
Tombi entered the restored antebellum home. It served as a visitor’s center for those interested in touring the bayou for either bird hunting or walking the scenic hiking trail that featured a pier and pavilion where alligators were daily fed. Tallulah was cleaning a glass counter in the museum area that housed a collection of arrowheads, pottery and other Choctaw artifacts from bygone days. Her long hair was severely pulled back and braided, and she wore a red smock over jeans.
A familiar jolt of guilt and sadness pinched his heart. Tallulah should be managing the center instead of working as a combination cashier and cleaner. She’d been studying anthropology in college when Katrina crashed into their worlds.
She leaned against the counter and rubbed a hand along the small of her back. It had to be tough on her when she hunted at night and then had to come work the day job. A job that barely enabled her to eke out a threadbare existence. If he hadn’t built her a small cabin on their family’s land, she wouldn’t be able to eke out any existence at all.
“Backache?” he asked.
She stiffened and returned to wiping the counters. “It doesn’t matter.” Tallulah slanted him a suspicious glance. “Don’t tell me you’re here to scold me about that girl again.”
Scold? “I’m your brother, not your father.”
“Good. I’m glad you remember. Because sometimes I think you forget.” She set the bottle of window cleaner so hard on the glass, he expected cracks to fissure the surface.
Tombi inwardly sighed at the chip-on-her-shoulder attitude. Bo’s death had made her bitter, as if it were the last straw in a string of tragedies. Something inside her had broken. As twins, they’d had a close camaraderie growing up, but in the past year they had been more like strangers. Worse than strangers, as they each knew just how to push each other’s hot buttons.
A phone rang, and Tallulah stalked across the
room to answer it.
He leaned his elbows on the counter and idly surveyed the ancestral artifacts while he cooled his infamous temper. You’re as fiery as the sun you’re named after, Mom used to say. Tombi liked to think he’d learned to control it, even if the flames of his anger still blistered his soul and tongue. But Tallulah tried his patience.
A wooden flute caught his eye. It was about twelve inches long and made of river cane. A snake-head design was burned into the tip with its sinewy body wrapped around the barrel. That was a new addition to this collection. It was so well preserved, somebody must have donated it. He shook his head. Too bad it wasn’t for sale. He would love to add this to his own private collection. Instruments that harnessed the magical power of the wind held his respect and awe.
His twin returned. “What brings you here?” she asked bluntly.
“I did come to talk about Annie,” he admitted. “Can’t you cut her a little break? She’s been drawn into this whole mess, just as we were years ago.”
“Drawn in? What if she was recruited in by Nalusa? We’ve no reason to trust her.”
“Trust or not, we need her. Her aura-hearing can be used to track wisps and to prevent Nalusa attacking us unawares.”
“We’ve done fine without her up till now.”
“Not true and you know it. Nalusa’s gaining ground, has been for a couple of years. The number of wisps multiplies faster than we can kill them. If this keeps up, he’ll soon wander past the bayou boundaries and wreak havoc everywhere.”
Tallulah pinched her lips. “So you say.”
“You know I speak the truth. Once he slips past us, there will be no hope of containing the evil. He’ll blaze a trail of death and misery on a national scale.”
“So be it. We’ve done all we can.” Her hands gripped the wash rag like a lifeline.
“That’s my point. Now it’s time to get outside help.”
“What do you want me to do? Bake her a cheesecake and welcome her into the fold? Not happening.”
He ran a hand through his hair and sighed. “All I ask is that you be civil. Don’t attack her.”
“You can’t keep me from telling the truth.”
“You don’t know the truth,” he exploded. “Just stay away from her, that’s all I ask.” He turned and started for the door. The long walk home would do much to cool his anger.
Tallulah ran in front of him, blocking his exit. “Don’t be an idiot. Think with your brain and not your dick. This girl could be trouble.”
“Her name’s Annie, and she could be our salvation. You’re the one not thinking straight,” he snapped. Tombi took a deep breath. “I don’t know who you are these days, Talli girl. And neither would Bo if he were still alive.”
Raw pain bruised her eyes, and she sucked in a breath.
He laid a hand on her shoulder. “Sorry. But you needed to hear that. Consider what I said. If you can’t treat Annie with any decency, it might be best if you stopped hunting altogether.”
“You can’t be serious,” she said in a strangled voice. “You’ve known this girl only a few days. Are you completely under her spell?”
He withdrew his hand. “Leave Annie alone, or I’ll exile you from the hunters.”
* * *
Grandma Tia had been unchanged from yesterday’s visit, as if any moment her eyes would flutter open. Annie could picture that moment. Her grandma would blink in confusion at the sterile, strange surroundings and then jolt out of bed, demanding to go home.
She had to believe that would happen. Had to believe that, despite her bad heart, her grandma had many months left. Peaceful months that would allow her to approach the end of life among her altars and herb garden and where she could sleep in her own bed at night. Months of entertaining friends and helping customers with her root workings.
Despite all reason, Annie had hoped her mother would come down for a visit after informing her of the stroke, even though she swore she’d never set foot in Bayou La Siryna again. But even with Tia hospitalized, Annie’s mom was still being stubborn and heartless about not coming down. Grandma Tia never talked about it, but Annie knew the rift between them hurt her deeply.
She lit candles everywhere, and the glow was comforting. Although only late afternoon, the sky was a pewter gray and the sun hidden behind dark clouds. She hadn’t paid attention to the news, but no doubt a hurricane brewed somewhere over the Atlantic Ocean. That or tropical storms always resulted in the Gulf area darkening and churning, making normally stagnant air whip with a briny bite, and the birds, even noisy seagulls, retreated in silence and out of sight.
The candles weren’t just for atmosphere. If the upcoming storm were severe enough, the power would likely cut off.
Annie sat at the kitchen table and gripped her hands together. Excitement and fear chased in circles in her gut, percolating like a storm of their own.
Magical Musings, page forty-three.
The title and page number had flashed in her mind when she visited Grandma Tia earlier today. Annie sorted through the papers. She even knew what the book would look like: a brownish-yellow bundle of papers tied up with raffia, a sprig of marjoram in the bow.
At last she began going through the stack of books until she found Magical Musings. The aged, frail papers trembled in her fingers like bedsheets flapping on a clothesline. Page forty-one...forty-two...page forty-three. There. Communing with the Dead or with Animal Spirits.
Eagerly, she ran a finger down the ingredient list and began gathering the needed items, grateful for Tia’s well-stocked pantry and hoodoo supplies. Lightning cracked, and the air sizzled with the smell of ozone. One Mississippi. Two Mississippi. Three Missis—
Thunder crashed. The lightning had struck only three miles away.
A frisson of unease chased down the nape of her neck to the base of her spine. Which was ridiculous. Grandma Tia wouldn’t have sent such a specific message if she hadn’t meant for her granddaughter to try the spell. Still, Annie wavered and shifted on her seat. Maybe the timing is wrong?
No. She wasn’t going to let a thunderstorm give her the heebie-jeebies. They were a dime a dozen during the Alabama summers. She’d been seeking an answer for years to stop the music, and now she couldn’t stand to wait another evening. With great care, Annie dressed the candles, lit the incense and began her petition. And waited.
And waited.
A great swell of silence numbed her brain. A silence so utter and profound it might as well have been a banshee screaming in her ears. A single word over and over: no. Disappointment sliced through the numbness. Surely, after all the signs, there had to be something. Try harder. Annie squeezed her eyes shut and strained to hear something—anything.
A great flapping beat the air, a stir of energy swooshed by like a freight train. She gasped and opened her eyes.
Whatever connection she’d made was instantly severed. Outside, the rustle of leaves in the wind and a scrape of limbs clawing the windows. A distant rumble of thunder. Whatever had made itself known had vanished.
Not fair. She stood and paced the room, hands fisted by her side in frustration. She’d try again before bedtime. And she’d keep trying the spell until spirits in the Great Beyond responded—if only to get rid of her and her constant petitions.
The lights died.
Gee, thanks, Alabama Power. This night just keeps getting better. Best thing to do with the little light that still oozed through the windows was to fix something to eat and get a bath.
Twin blazes of light pierced the den. Tombi? She hurried to the front door and opened it. Rain soaked his long black hair, and his jeans and T-shirt were soaked.
“Where’s your umbrella?” she called out as he rushed up the porch steps.
He lifted his head and stared her dead in the face.
That wasn’t
Tombi.
Numbness froze her lips and limbs. “Hanan?” she asked dazedly, leaning against the door frame for support. “What are you doing here?”
He smiled, but the severe angles of his face and the sharp beak of a nose failed to lighten the overall impression of harsh cunning. “I came to clear the air between us. Tombi told me what you heard. What you imagined you heard.”
Annie calculated the viability of how swiftly she could shut the door and lock him out versus Hanan’s speed and agility to block the move.
She wasn’t optimistic. Play along. Play it off. Play it cool.
She returned his smile, smoothing her features to betray no concern. “We’re good. Tombi explained you must have been dreaming. A nightmare, maybe.”
Or maybe the sneaky Tallulah was the betrayer. She could only imagine how Tombi would take that news, seeing as how he got all defensive about a friend.
She tried to be fair. Tombi’s explanation was rational.
A couple of beats of awkward silence passed. She raised a hand and gestured at the open doorway. “Come in, if you’d like.”
He swooped in at once, and she tried not to wince as he brushed by her side and into the cottage. Annie listened intently, but not a single note escaped his tightly controlled body and mind.
She looked longingly at the yard. Her car was in the driveway, mocking. It might as well have been a mile away. She had a wild idea of grabbing her car keys and making a run for it. Just leave Hanan alone in the cottage.
And look like a complete fool for running off. Tallulah would have a field day. Reluctantly, Annie shut the door and faced Hanan. “Would you like something to drink?”
“No. I won’t be long.” He went to the sofa and sat, one leg bent, resting an ankle on the opposite knee. “That’s some special ability you have,” he said, getting straight to the point. “As a hunter, my senses are enhanced. I can see, hear and smell better than other humans. But I’ve never heard of anyone able to judge a person by hearing their energy.”
Was there skepticism in his tone? Hard to tell with his poker face and silent aura. Annie never realized before how much she used her extraordinary hearing to glide through interacting with people—anticipating another’s thoughts and motives before engaging in conversation. And always working on an exit strategy if the music became too disturbing or uncomfortable. She nodded slowly, unsure how to respond.
