Bayou Shadow Hunter, page 12
“Bring the towel to me,” he said huskily.
She obeyed, as if in a trance. She walked so slowly to him that he was conscious of the rain beating against the windows and the smell of something earthy in the air. A cozy intimacy of the two of them against the rain-sloshed world outside.
Annie lifted the towel and began rubbing his skin. He wished it were her hands instead of fabric. Satisfied with her work there, she ran the towel through his hair.
Tombi abruptly pulled her to him and kissed her thoroughly, smothering her gasp of surprise. Her arms went around his bare back, and her hands traveled the length of his spine. He pressed his manhood against her core, and she arched into him, silently asking for more.
“Annie?” he asked hoarsely.
She gazed up at him with hooded eyes. And then blinked and took a step backward. Tombi swallowed down a groan of frustration.
“Not yet,” she whispered. “I’m sorry. It’s too soon for me.”
He ran a finger down the side of her delicate, heart-shaped face. “Never apologize. A lady has every right to say no.”
Annie nodded and cast her head down, her dark wavy hair obscuring her face. “Thank you,” she mumbled.
He needed space. Space to cool his lust and dispel the awkwardness. He strode to a window. Rain washed against the panes in sheets, but at least the thunder and lightning had grown distant. With any luck, the storm would pass within the hour.
“Why did you come back?” Annie asked from behind.
“I felt uneasy leaving you alone. Especially now that the power’s out.” He faced her. “Come back to the cabin with me. I’m not asking you to sleep with me. I have an extra bedroom.”
“Or you could stay here tonight. No sense in you driving home in this weather. I can’t offer much in terms of dinner, but I can always scrape something together.”
He’d rather be at his own place, in his own bed, but he’d take what he could. Staying in the cottage beat camping out in her backyard or sleeping in his truck to keep an eye on things. “Deal.”
She smiled, the awkward shyness dispensed. “Have a seat and I’ll be back with food.”
Tombi sank into the sofa, listening to Annie bustling about the kitchen. The domesticity of it settled warmly in his gut. How long had it been since someone fixed him a meal? Too long. Strange, he’d never noticed before how solitary, how lonely and stark his existence was at the cabin. He devoted his life to hunting during the full moon and the rest of his days to running his carpentry business. Always focused, always doing everything with a purpose and sinking into bed at night, exhausted.
He propped his legs on the coffee table and crossed his arms behind him, head relaxing into his palms. Inside was soft candle illumination, and outside the rain and storm were contained. He closed his eyes. Relaxed. He was exactly where he needed to be, and all was well in this moment. Tension drained from his body and flowed down to the ground, where it was absorbed.
A soft touch jiggled his shoulder.
He bolted upright and took in the unfamiliar surroundings.
“It’s okay. You’ve been asleep.” Annie’s face was calm and a soft smile lit her eyes. “You’ve been out a couple of hours at least. But I couldn’t wait to eat any longer and didn’t want to dine alone.”
She sat across from him, and he set his feet down. A tray on the coffee table was filled with apples, grapes, cheese and bread. He was starving. Even though it was late in the day, the pewter clouds had been rinsed clean by rain, and it was lighter now than before he’d fallen asleep.
“Sorry I couldn’t do better. Power’s still out.”
“This is perfect. I can’t believe I slept so soundly.” Highly unusual. If he’d eaten before falling asleep, it would have made him wonder what Annie had slipped into his food unawares. Instead, he’d completely let down his guard. Was he a fool as Tallulah accused? He watched as Annie poured iced tea from a pitcher and handed him a glass.
She pointed to the dishes and silverware. “Help yourself.”
He dug in and bit into a sweet, crisp apple, quickly downing fruit with slices of tangy cheddar cheese. She nudged over a wicker basket full of biscuits. Even cold, they were delicious smothered in real butter.
“Thank you,” he said at last, fully sated. He leaned back in the sofa and crossed his arms against his chest, studying Annie.
“For what? Dinner wasn’t much of anything.”
She might not think so, but Tombi hadn’t been so relaxed in weeks. And to have someone else fix and serve a meal, no matter how simple, was a novelty. His loins stirred. It had been a long time since that, too. He wondered if it was the same for Annie. “Have you been seeing anyone in Bayou La Siryna?” he asked. Subtlety was not his strong suit.
“As in…a man? No.” She shook her head, dark hair spilling over her shoulders. Her eyes shuttered. “Not interested,” she added in a flat voice.
Somebody had been burned. Fairly recently, judging from Annie’s expression. “So, how long ago did you break up?”
She opened her mouth, as if to deny it, but then shrugged. “Four months.”
He raised his eyebrows in an unspoken question.
“His name was Evan.” Annie tapped a knife against the edge of her plate. “He’s from North Georgia, where my mom and stepdad live. We dated over a year. Until he decided I was too weird…and someone better came along.”
“He’s an idiot.” The words slipped out, unbidden. But at Annie’s sudden smile, he didn’t care.
“What about you?” she said.
That was the trouble with asking direct questions. Now she felt free to interrogate him on his past love life. He’d set himself up for it. But fair was fair.
“It’s been over a year since I’ve seen anyone seriously. Her name was Courtney.” Annie raised her brows in a parody of his earlier gesture.
“She broke it off, complaining that my priorities were screwed up and that I cared more about the hunt than I did her.”
“So she knew about you. About your supernatural tracking.”
“No. I saw no need to tell her. She just thought I was into hunting with friends. But it didn’t sit well with her. Courtney accused me of being secretive.”
“You should have told her the truth. If you really loved her, that is.”
“That’s what she said.” He’d thought about it and come close a few times, but something had always held him back.
“At least we’re honest with each other,” Annie blurted. “About what makes us different. Not that we’re in a relationship or anything,” she added quickly.
“No way.” Relationship? It hadn’t worked before, and it certainly wouldn’t work now, not with
Nalusa gaining power. He didn’t have time for a relationship. Especially not with a woman like Annie. Sex? Sure. But her hesitation made him realize she wouldn’t view it casually. He shifted uncomfortably, aware she looked offended.
“What I mean is, I don’t have time for a real relationship.”
“Just some sex on the side with a woman who’s convenient? Hmm? Someone always underfoot anyway because you watch her closely to see if she’s in league with your enemy?”
He wasn’t fooled by her deceptively sweet voice. Annie was furious. “When you put it like that…”
“I put it truthfully. Praise the saints I turned you down earlier.” She jerked to her feet and gathered up the uneaten food on to a tray.
“Annie, wait. I didn’t mean that the way it sounded. I wouldn’t sleep with a woman I didn’t care for.”
“I no longer give a damn.” Her chin lifted, and she refused to meet his eye.
He stood beside her. “I can’t think of having a serious relationship now. All my energy and focus need to be on Nalusa and doing the things I must to keep up the cabin and put food on the table.”
“Your life sounds as miserable as mine.” The anger melted, replaced with tears brimming her eyes.
He’d take her wrath any day over this. “I’m not miserable, and you shouldn’t be, either.”
“Really? Sounds to me like you have no life. All work, all grim responsibility, with no room for love and happiness.”
Strange, he’d never given it much thought. Maybe at first, when he began hunting all those years ago. Somehow over the years, the hunting had taken over everything. But it wasn’t as if he had a choice. To quit wasn’t an option. “I do what I must.”
“What are you—a machine or a man?”
Her words cut deep, and he struck back. “Are you saying I should be more like you and run away from everything? Close my eyes and stick my fingers in my ears?”
“I don’t…” She clamped her lips into a thin line.
He’d gone too far. “I’m sorry.”
She stepped backward and regarded him stonily, the food tray a fortress between them. “Go away and leave me alone.”
Damn. He’d really made a mess of everything. “You’re upset. Just let me sleep on the couch tonight to make sure you’re okay. We’ll talk in the morning when you’ve calmed down.”
“Don’t you dare tell me to calm down or how I’m supposed to feel.”
He sighed. It was going to be a long night sleeping in his parked truck.
The sizzle of a rising sun, the pure notes of a Native American flute and an unidentifiable whooshing.
Annie squeezed her grandma’s hand. “Are these sounds connected?”
Tia Henrietta remained immobile, her olive skin tinged with gray. The faintest vibration passed through Annie’s fingertips where they rested in her grandma’s palm.
Yes, a sign.
Somehow, everything was linked, connected by a thin gossamer thread she couldn’t see.
The first two noises she associated with Tombi. The whooshing only started once she’d cast a spell to find a spirit or animal guide. So it might have been an ancestor spirit or an animal passing nearby, stirring the air.
Micro pressure tingled in her hand. Annie hardly dared breathe, awaiting a new message. She stared intently at Tia. A flutter of the eyelids and a twitch at the corners of the mouth passed over the remote, beloved face, a sign of presence.
“I’m here, Grandma. Squeeze my hand if you can hear me.”
A gentle press upon her fingers, and Annie gasped, suffused with hope. She lifted Tia’s frail, weathered hand and brushed her cheek against the arthritic knuckles. If tears could heal flesh, Tia’s hand would be rejuvenated.
Should she call a nurse? Annie pushed the call button on the side of the hospital cot. “You’re going to be all right, Grandma. We need to get you home soon. Would you like that?”
Again, a slight twitch at the corners of her mouth. And this time her eyes opened a fraction, revealing nothing but white. Her mouth soundlessly opened and closed.
“You’re trying to speak.” Annie stood and leaned over the hospital bed, bending over until her ear was inches from her grandma’s mouth.
“Go to him.” The whispered command was no less authoritative than when Grandma Tia was up and about, issuing orders.
“I can’t leave you. Not now. You need me.”
“She said go.”
Startled, Annie whipped her head around. Miss Verbena stood in the doorway, frowning. “You heard Grandma way over there?”
“I heard you arguing and guessed the rest.” She stepped forward and rubbed Annie’s shoulder. “What’s happened today? She talking?” Miss Verbena pulled out a chair and sat next to Annie. She withdrew a skein of yarn and knitting needles from her basket and took up her usual knitting. The needles clicked over the monotonous, background buzz of hospital machinery.
“You’re not surprised?”
“Not a bit. Last night I dreamed that Tia would be a walkin’ outta here by the end of the week.”
“I never guessed that—”
A nurse bustled into the room. “What do you need?”
“My grandma just spoke.” Annie grinned. “She’s coming out of the coma.”
The nurse frowned and stared at Tia’s inert form. “You sure about that?” she asked suspiciously.
Miss Verbena winked at Annie. “She’ll speak again when she gets a mind to. Meanwhile, I think it’s time for you to skedaddle, young lady.”
Annie shook her head and pinched her lips together. She wanted to be here when Grandma Tia opened her eyes again.
“I’ll be right here,” Miss Verbena promised. “You mind your Grandma, now. She ain’t gonna rest comfortable until you do like she said.”
The nurse shot Annie a curious look. “I’ll get the doctor.” She exited with the same bustle as when she entered.
Miss Verbena made a shooing motion with her hands. “Go on, now.”
Reluctantly, Annie left, moving down the corridor as if her feet were mired in quicksand. She didn’t want to leave Grandma Tia, and she certainly didn’t want to see Tombi. Go to him. As if Tombi needed anyone, especially her. He’d as much as called her a coward. Always running away from everything, he’d said. The man acted as if he had no feelings outside a bloodthirsty need for revenge.
Last night, she’d scarcely slept, peeking out the window and seeing his truck in the driveway. She hoped his night was as miserable and sleepless as her own. In the morning, she’d gotten into her old car and left, deliberately ignoring Tombi and his truck as she drove for the hospital.
Shattering chords of pain assaulted her ears from opened patient doors. Annie quickened her step, skipping the elevator and opting for the stairs—less chance of running into others and their leaking auras.
She skipped along, heartened at Grandma Tia’s minuscule awakening. Not only that, but Miss Verbena had dreamed she’d come out of the darkness, and her dreams always came true.
As far as Tombi, she’d show him she was no coward. At least, she’d try to. Annie bit her lip, picturing Nalusa in snake form. But Tombi had promised to stay by her side. She’d cling to him so tight, he wouldn’t have an opportunity to escape her if he tried. Strengthened by her decision, and comforted at the thought of lunch and some downtime alone at home before she contacted Tombi, Annie prepared for a quick exit past the ER waiting lounge.
She took a deep breath and pushed open the door from the stairwell to the ER area. Misery wailed like a herd of banshees while an ambulance’s real wail reverberated in her brain like a shotgun blast in a canyon. The trick was nonresistance, to let the sound flow in and out and not let it get trapped deep within. Annie focused on her breathing and kept her eyes on the lobby door leading to freedom.
The siren echoes decreased in decibels. Another dozen steps and she opened the door to fresh air.
Oomph. Her elbow hit something hard.
“Hey, watch it, lady.” An ambulance driver in an all-blue uniform scowled and jerked the gurney away.
Annie shrank back. “Sorry,” she mumbled. “I didn’t see—” Wait. She knew this man lying on the gurney with blood seeping down the side of his scalp from a head wound. Where had she met him before?
Two more EMR workers started past, with more patients. One of the men on the cot stared at her, recognition lighting his face.
“Hey, you’re that Annie woman Tombi brought to camp.” The man struggled to an upright position, pushing his dark hair from his face. He held his right arm in his left, and Annie fought nausea at the crooked, unnatural bent of his injured arm.
She recognized him now. Her gaze shifted to the other cot, to an unconscious, bleeding man. “What happened?” she asked.
The EMR started to wheel him away.
“Hold on a sec,” he told the guy. He grabbed her arm and pulled until she was eye level with him.
“We were attacked in the woods,” he said in a low, fierce voice. “Ambushed.”
“In broad daylight?” she asked. Horror weighted her down. “Where’s Tombi?”
“Gone. Kidnapped. The wisps are delivering him to Nalusa as we speak.”
CHAPTER 10
* * *
The shadows expanded and contracted into phantasmagoric shapes as Tombi stumbled along the path, squinting at the images. Something is very wrong. The miasma of evil was thick as clam chowder and as stifling as the Southern sun. He tugged at his bound hands, staring stupidly at the black cloth tied and knotted at his wrists. How had this happened?
The last thing he remembered was screams and rushing, colored orbs surrounding him and the other hunters. They had surged forward and converged upon him, their colored, swirling forms cloying and pouring acrid smoke into his nose and mouth. Through the smoke, he had made out the figure of a short, bowlegged man with a weathered, gnomelike face.
Hoklonote, no doubt. A bad spirit capable of temporarily shape-shifting to human form. Tombi had glimpsed him over the years, seen his face peeking out from the underbrush or gazing down from a tall tree, ready to pounce. He’d seen him run away on occasion with a queer, wobbly gate that led Tombi to suspect his feet were misshapen, ill-equipped to give chase.
Hoklonote must have been the one to bind his hands. The wisps were formless vapors surrounding the heart of their dead, entrapped victims. But they all were in league together with Nalusa.
When he was a young boy, his parents used to tell him if he didn’t stay close to home or if he stayed out too late at night, the evil spirits would get him. Growing up, he’d made sure to be home before dark. As he grew into a teenager, he’d scoffed at the old tales and believed them merely a ploy to keep children from straying too far in the woods and to coerce them into minding their elders.
The Choctaw version of the boogeyman.
Much later, he’d learned there was more than one boogeyman, that they were real and that they had names and roamed the bayou grounds at night in search of prey.
A sharp poke on his lower back startled him out of his stupor. Tombi reined in his wandering thoughts and concentrated on Hoklonote. He sniffed experimentally and smelled an odor of damp and decay, like rotting leaves or globs of worms surfacing above ground after it was saturated by heavy rains. He sensed Hoklonote’s physical form only rose to the midpoint of his back.
