Bayou Shadow Hunter, page 13
Tombi took a deep breath. No point being led like the lamb to the slaughter. Even drugged, he should prove a match for the stunted spirit. Pride stiffened his spine. The least he could do was leave the world fighting, same as Bo. Tombi screwed up his fists.
“You forget the wisps,” the voice from behind cackled. “You’re outnumbered.”
“So the old tale is true, then?” His voice was slurred, his throat dry. Yet he pushed on. “You can read people’s minds?”
“Sure can.” The spirit’s voice was high-pitched and tinged with glee. “Won’t be taking me by surprise.”
Damn. But he could still die trying.
“Quit them death thoughts,” Hoklonote said. “Could be you can work out some kind of deal with Nalusa. Same as me, same as the wisps and same as other hunters over the years.”
To hell with that, you little, stunted pygmy—
“Stunted, huh?” Hoklonote kicked him in the ass. “Better guard your thoughts.”
Tombi gritted his teeth against the crack of pain at the base of his tailbone and continued the labored trek in the woods. He wanted to see Nalusa, face-to-face. If nothing else, he’d like to get a lick in on the beast, whatever form Nalusa chose to assume for their meeting.
“Foolish, foolish thoughts,” Hoklonote grunted.
Tombi tried, yet he couldn’t sense anyone else’s presence but Hoklonote and the wisps. But that could be due to his drugged state dulling his tracking skills. Not that he expected an answer, but the question burned in his mind. “Has anyone else been drugged or hurt?”
Hoklonote didn’t bother responding, but again prodded him with a sharp object, probably a stick, that pricked the base of his spine. With every step forward, Tombi felt more disoriented. His skin crawled and itched, and his tongue lay swollen and heavy in his dry mouth, as if he’d suffered a severe allergic reaction. His head was fuzzy, and he wanted nothing more than to curl into a little ball and sleep forever.
The wisps skittering around him were having none of that. Tombi’s leaden legs managed to plod along. Again, he worried for his friends’ safety. Where had everyone disappeared to? Distress sharpened his mind, which brought a new flood of anguish. Nalusa could kill in so many ways: snakebite, suffocation and entrapment in a will-o’-the-wisp body, or worst of all, a slow, debilitating despair of the mind that led to madness or suicide.
Annie had been absolutely correct. There was a betrayer in their group.
Annie. Her image arose so sharp and clear it felt as if she was within him, alongside him as he struggled to continue. Her hair was soft and brushing against him; he could smell her herbal, floral scent. Her mysterious hoodoo eyes penetrated all his defenses, saw through all his guards into the walled, hardened heart that was scarred and calloused from death and loss.
I’m coming, Tombi.
He could have sworn he felt the whisper of her breath in his ear. He stopped and glanced about, the sharp object in his back pushed deeper, puncturing flesh.
“What the hell was that?” Hoklonote ground out in surprise and outrage. “Ain’t never heard the likes of that before.”
It wasn’t the drugs, then; Hoklonote heard the voice, as well. Go away, he urged silently, not sure if she could hear his thoughts like he heard hers.
“Speed it up there,” Hoklonote demanded, unease sharpening his tone.
Tombi kept going, knowing that each step brought him closer to Nalusa, closer to death. Best to focus on that fact and block out Annie. He considered the confrontation awaiting him. No way he could win a fight in this weakened, hallucinogenic state. Whoever had betrayed him had won.
He was too drugged to despair. Too drugged to be afraid. Instead, body and brain felt numbed. A sense of fatalism spread through him. He’d tried his best and failed. He’d lost his parents and his best friend. His sister was like a stranger these days. He remembered the destroyed family home, his parents’ tombstones, Bo’s dead body and Tallulah’s angry and shuttered face that masked a grieving heart.
Don’t give up. I’m near. Again, Annie’s whisper echoed in his ear and filled his body with her warm vibration.
“What’s that?” Hoklonote asked. “Who’s there?”
As much as it comforted him, Tombi scrabbled to again warn her off. It was too dangerous. If you can hear me, go away. Nalusa would love to get his hands on Annie. He could use her gift of hearing to his own advantage. He’d trap her in a wisp and never, ever let her go.
No. Annie’s voice was firm. Why did she have to fight him at every turn?
Screams saturated his brain. Something new or a memory of what occurred prior to his being drugged? The painful prodding at his back ceased, and the wisps scattered. Tombi sank to his knees and rested his face in his hands, riding out the waves of screams assaulting his ears. Was this what it was like for Annie every day? And he’d accused her of being a coward, of running away from situations when it got tough. Remorse burned his gut.
And now he’d never have the chance to tell her he was sorry. Never, ever.
Annie crouched behind a saw palmetto and watched as Tombi fell to his knees, clutching his head. She winced as if experiencing the scraped knees on her own body. A withered, strange-looking man standing behind Tombi raised a stick, poised to deliver a blow.
Hanan, Tallulah, Chulah and several other hunters continued their screaming advance toward the wisps surrounding Tombi. A volley of rocks unfurled and the wisps scattered, but not before a few were struck and disintegrated to ash. The strange man released his stick and ran into a thicket of trees, disappearing from sight.
Chulah dropped to a knee, withdrew a dagger and slit the cloth binding Tombi’s hands. Annie scrambled to them and sat beside Tombi, running her fingers through his hair, matted with blood and sweat.
He looked up, eyes as blank and dark as an erased blackboard.
“What have they done to you?” she whispered past the tightness at the back of her throat.
Chulah shot her an impatient look. “The wisps’ smoke is a hallucinogenic drug, deadly in a large enough dose.”
Hanan emerged by Tombi’s other side, and between them, the two men got Tombi to stand, placing an arm over each of their shoulders.
“Going to be a long walk home,” Hanan mumbled. “Might not make it back before nightfall.”
“I’m joining you, Bo.”
Tombi’s slurred pronouncement chilled Annie. “Not if I can help it.”
“Get out of our way.” Chulah scowled as they moved slowly, painfully toward the open field, where a four-wheeler waited.
Annie nervously scooted to the side and followed behind them. Tallulah walked beside her, shooting her dagger glares. As if she had anything to do with what happened.
Annie clutched her mojo bag and purse full of hoodoo supplies close to her chest. She had no idea if any of it worked, but she could try. After seeing the injured hunters at the hospital, she’d rushed home and gathered everything together and then arrived at the hunters’ campsite in time to see the inner circle leaving to search for Tombi. They’d reluctantly allowed her to tag along when she promised she could help with any injuries.
She should have done more hoodoo work, and sooner, when her grandma was infected by Nalusa, but it had happened so quickly and she’d been unprepared. This time, she had everything needed for an uncrossing and good-health spell. She had prayed Tombi was unharmed but was determined that if he was injured, she’d go to the hospital and sneak into his room to perform healing rites.
But it might already be too late. Grandma Tia didn’t specify how quickly it had to be performed once harm had been inflicted by an enemy.
Hanan and Chulah helped Tombi on to the four-wheeler, and Tallulah and Annie squeezed into the back, Tombi between them.
Hold on, Annie willed him.
He leaned his head against her shoulder, and she began whispering in his ear. “I beseech thee, Archangel Raphael, Healer, Angel of the Son, come now and heal—”
“What’s that?” Tallulah cut in sharply.
Annie ignored her. “—Tombi from his enemy’s poison. Deliver—”
“Stop that witchy stuff,” she demanded, tugging at Annie’s sleeve.
“—him and restore his health.” Annie withdrew a mojo bag from her back pocket and opened the drawstring. “Provide the breath of life and healing energy.” She blew into the mojo bag, infusing its contents with power and intent.
Tallulah jerked her arm. “Stop it!” Bits of dried herbs and crushed plant roots from the mojo bag scattered over their laps and the floorboard. Tallulah pick up the parchment paper and frowned. “What’s this? A pentagram?”
“It’s a drawing of Solomon’s Seal.” Annie gathered up the spilled contents.
“Leave her alone,” Chulah said, glancing back at the commotion.
Annie shot him a grateful smile.
“All that mumbo jumbo can’t hurt anything,” he added.
Her smile faded. “It’s not…” She sighed. What they thought about her and her root work wasn’t important. Only Tombi mattered.
Tallulah handed over the parchment, rolling her eyes.
Annie returned it to the bag, breathed into it once again and drew the string together. “Saints be with us,” she muttered, stuffing the bag into the side waistband of Tombi’s jeans.
He stirred and opened his eyes. His dilated pupils stared unfocused at the group, then narrowed and sharpened as he turned to his side. “Annie. I heard you.”
“I’ve been right here, talking to you.”
His hand claimed one of her own. “Not just now. But before, when I was captured and walking through the woods.”
The copper rays in his eyes warmed the sudden chill bumps on her arms. “You heard my thoughts? That’s never happened before.”
Hanan frowned and peered at them from the overhead mirror. “Impossible. She was hiding behind the bushes, way out of your hearing range.”
“How are you doing, buddy?” Chulah asked. “We’ll be at the cabin in a few minutes, the hospital in fifteen.”
Tombi shook his head. “No hospital.”
Tallulah leaned over Annie and thrust her face close to her twin. “Don’t be an idiot. Witch spells are bullshit. You need a doctor.”
“You should see one,” Annie agreed. She lifted his hair away from his forehead and saw swelling with a gash oozing blood. “You might have a concussion.”
Tombi winced and jerked away from her touch. “My head is clearing. I’ll be fine.” He straightened and frowned at Chulah and Hanan. “What the hell happened out there?”
“We were ambushed,” Chulah said, a grim set to his jaw. “The wisps were waiting on us as soon as we arrived.”
“Betrayed,” Tallulah ground out.
They hit a bump, and Annie’s insides jostled. She cast a worried glance at Tombi, but his face wore the usual stoic mask. At least he was alert and coming out of whatever fog he’d suffered. A selfish, tiny jab of loneliness pricked her. When he was like this, he seemed so remote and removed—as if he didn’t notice or need her.
Tombi kept his eyes peeled on the road ahead but grasped Annie’s hand and held tight. Heat diffused over her body. Not even Tallulah’s grimace of disapproval could dispel her glow inside. She sucked in her breath, relief and happiness unloosening the tense muscles in her shoulders and neck.
Annie closed her eyes and let the welcoming wind, from riding in the four-wheeler, brush over her face as the others discussed the attack and injuries. No death casualties, although three men were hospitalized and listed in serious condition.
“They weren’t there to kill everyone,” Hanan said. “Their objective was to capture you.” He pulled up to a small cabin and brought the vehicle to an abrupt halt. “I wonder what Nalusa wants with you.”
Annie shivered at the mention of Nalusa facing Tombi again. He couldn’t be lucky enough to escape with his life on two different occasions.
“He hopes to cut a deal or truce.” Tallulah scrambled out of the vehicle. “Either that or kill Tombi, thinking it will weaken all the hunters.”
Typical Tallulah. The facts were laid bare with no emotion. You’d never know Tombi was her twin, that they had once heard one another’s heartbeat in the womb.
Tombi stepped out onto the ground with only a slight wobble. He shook off Chulah and Hanan’s offer of assistance and carefully made his way up the porch steps, hand gripping the railing.
Annie fell in behind everyone, uncertain of her welcome. Too bad, she’d do what needed to be done. Tombi wasn’t out of the woods yet, and she wasn’t finished with her healing ritual. That was—if he allowed her to proceed. The thought that she still might not have his full trust slowed her steps and weighed on her chest.
Inside, the spaciousness of the cabin surprised Annie. She saw now that the cabin was a deep, rectangular shape. The open den was large, and huge windows on the back wall framed nature’s artwork of oaks and pines. Custom bookcases lined the side walls, and, ignored by all, she wandered over to glance at the titles: Choctaw history, animal spirit guides and archaeology magazines. Interspersed among the books were arrowheads and bits of pottery. There were also a few corncob pipes and Native American flutes decorated with feathers. Her mind tickled with faint piping notes. Could she hear his ancestors from the past? Instead of the normal dread of her supernatural sense, the sound filled Annie with awe and appreciation.
She ambled to the opposite wall, ignoring the buzz of conversation from another room where the others had disappeared. In the center of the largest bookcase was a Native American headdress decorated with colorful beads and feathers and shells attached with leather cords. A feeling of pride and majesty settled on her with a formal solemnity. There were also several framed pieces of art featuring elaborate, beaded necklaces and collars.
The need to create art in even a simpler, more natural past existence revealed a deep-felt human desire to express beauty, one that touched Annie. She fancied she could hear the lighthearted, higher-pitched voices of women talking and laughing together, beautifying the life of their community.
Being here was like walking through a time portal in a museum. It felt warm and right, like a secret home, a feeling of belonging and acceptance.
Wishful thinking. She pictured her mother’s home in North Georgia, a shotgun-style house that was always cold in winter and stifling hot in summer. Everything in it was worn and shoddy and contained a past history of carelessness—just like the family who lived in it. Careless and hot and cold with their love.
Mostly cold.
Instinctively, Annie wrapped her arms across her chest. She didn’t ever have to go back there again. She was done trying to earn their love. If her mom could shake off Grandma Tia and wash her hands of her own mother and hometown, Annie could do the same. It’s the last time I’ll let history repeat itself, she vowed. Crazy Annie was in the past.
She strode down the oak floorboard, taking in more of Tombi’s belongings. It was obvious he was a man who took pride in his heritage and loved family and friends. Near the end of the bookcase was a shelf of framed pictures. Square in the middle was a small, faded three-by-five photo of a man and woman holding a pair of toddlers in their arms. She picked it up and examined it closely. Tombi and Tallulah. Tombi regarded the camera with wide, solemn eyes, while Tallulah’s mouth parted in a huge laughing grin, a chubby finger pointed at the photographer.
Times had sure changed. Annie carefully set it down and retraced her steps to the headdress. She lifted her hand and touched one of the white feathers, startled to hear the slight swish sound of a bird in flight.
“Don’t touch that.”
Annie swirled around at the abrupt command, guiltily clutching her hands behind her back. “Sorry.”
“Do you need a lift home?” Tallulah asked, scowling.
The message was clear. She wasn’t welcome. “I can walk.” Despite the heat in her cheeks, Annie lifted her chin and made for the front door.
“Suit yourself.”
Annie refused to look at Tallulah as she left the cabin and fled down the steps.
“Hey! Where are you going?”
Tombi leaned on the door frame, swaying slightly. “I can’t chase after you today. Come back.”
Of course. How could she have allowed Tallulah to so completely sidetrack her? Tombi needed her. She’d come to do a job, and it was only half-complete. The first whiff of rejection had lanced the sensitive sore in her heart, and she’d run away, mortified.
Again.
Annie straightened her shoulders and went to Tombi.
Tallulah stepped onto the porch beside her brother. “You sure you want her with us?”
Tombi shot her a warning look, and she backed to the door. “Your call,” she said, shrugging her shoulders.
“Don’t you have some hoodoo juice or herb tea or something for me to drink?”
His smile was crooked, and the unexpected humor lightened the weight in her chest. She lifted her purse. “In here. The tea won’t taste any better than the last brew you drank, but it will draw out any poison or toxins in your system.”
Tombi held the door open, and she swept past him, back into the cool tranquility of his cabin.
Hanan, Tallulah and Chulah exited the kitchen, ready to leave.
“We’ll check out who sent those texts,” Chulah promised. “Pisa’s a cop and has access to phone records.”
Hanan fished the four-wheeler keys from his jean pockets. “And I’ll notify everyone to meet here tomorrow. We’ll figure out who sent it.”
Tallulah stood behind her brother and flashed Annie a slash mark at the throat.
Annie paled. “It wasn’t me.”
Tombi faced his twin, hands on his hips. “What did you just do?”
“Nothing.” Tallulah lifted her chin and smiled sweetly, sweeping past everyone. “Let’s go. We all have lots to do before the gathering.”
Annie watched them leave with relief. “Point me to the kitchen, and I’ll make that tea.”
He nodded and made his way out of the room. His gate was stiff and unnaturally slow. Tombi was hurt more than he wanted anyone to know. “Why don’t you lie on the couch, and I’ll bring it to you when I’m finished.”
