Bayou Shadow Hunter, page 22
She was alone. Annie sagged with relief, muscles grateful for the reprieve. If only she could untie the bindings at her wrists. Her hawk would take care of Hanan, and Tombi should be along shortly. At least she was safe. Unless… Annie cast a nervous glance at the nearby underbrush. Unless Nalusa saw her predicament and decided to pay a visit. She shivered in the sweltering darkness.
Tombi stilled at the unexpected scream. Could it be Annie? He pushed away the paralyzing terror and ran toward the sound. If it was her, at least she was alive.
For the moment.
He cut through to rough, less-traveled shortcuts on the main path. Limbs smacked his torso and scratched his face, but nothing mattered if it shaved microseconds in getting to Annie.
He’d never leave her alone again. Not for a second. Not for a chance to reclaim all the trapped souls in Bayou La Siryna. Not even for a chance to kill Nalusa. Tombi ran on, not bothering to consider the ramifications of his thoughts.
Still no sight of anything but the familiar, accursed swamp. “Annie?” he called. “Where are you?”
“Here!”
Relief jellied his knees for two seconds. The cry was weak but near. He pushed on with even greater determination. The path widened, and he rushed into the Choctaw sacred land by the marsh.
And found the most unholy sight—Annie tied to a tree, blood oozing down her bottom lip, the left side of her face discolored and bearing a hand imprint. Her eyes were wild and frightened.
“Be careful,” she warned. “Hanan might be back any moment.”
Tombi wished he’d show his traitor face. “Let him.” He walked to her and reached out to touch her swollen cheek. “How bad did he hurt you?” Despite his intention to be gentle, his voice was rough, and he choked down bile. Hanan dared do this? He would pay with his life.
“I’ll be okay,” Annie whispered. “Untie me and let’s get out of here.”
Tombi rounded the tree, and anger gushed like a geyser at the sight of the blood-soaked rope. Grabbing the knife from his backpack, he made quick work of cutting the ropes binding her wrists and ankles. “Don’t try to walk just yet,” he cautioned, returning to face her.
“We have to hurry.” She took a step forward, and her body collapsed.
Tombi caught her and lifted her slight frame in his arms. “I’ll carry you. It’s going to take a few minutes for the blood to recirculate in your feet.”
She nodded, and he hurried down the path, holding her in his arms. “You’re a dead man, Hanan Sheffield,” he yelled, itching for a confrontation. But first, he had to get Annie to safety.
“He tried to kill my hawk.”
Tears ran down her cheeks, salty as the bayou breeze. He stopped abruptly and kissed her tenderly on the forehead. “Everything’s going to be okay now,” he promised.
She smiled in spite of the swollen, disfigured lips. “I know. You’re here. I knew you’d come for me.”
Her trust humbled him. And to think he once suspected her as the Na haksichi. She deserved a man so much better than he. But he would never let another man touch her. Not now. Not ever.
“Always,” he said, voice near breaking. He frowned. This wouldn’t do at all. The battle was near, he knew the enemy, and it was a time for courage, not weakness.
“I love you, Tombi. Take me home.”
“I can’t leave you alone at your grandmother’s cottage,” he apologized, deliberately ignoring her declaration of love. “Come back to my cabin, where you’ll be safe.”
“Your cabin is my home,” she said softly.
Her words felled him, touched the cold, dark spot deep within his heart. Resolutely, he resumed walking, intent on getting her to the safety of his cabin. Tallulah could protect her while he sought Hanan.
She laid her swollen cheek against his chest. Her absolute trust, after all he’d put her through, was his undoing. He might keep silent with Annie’s declarations, but he could no longer deny the truth to himself.
He loved her. Loved her passionately, loved her tenderly, loved her with mind and body and soul. Forever.
Violet-and-coral streaks radiated from the east, although the risen sun was merely a promise of the golden glory to come.
Annie snuggled in Tombi’s arms, inhaled his unique scent. “Aren’t you tired of carrying me? I can walk this last little bit.”
“You aren’t heavy.” Vertical lines marred the bridge of his nose. “How are you feeling? You look like hell.”
“Gee, thanks.” She tried to smile, but her swollen bottom lip pulled and cracked at the motion. “Oomph,” she mumbled.
Tombi’s frown deepened. “Soon as we get home, I’ll put some ice on it to stop the swelling.”
“Perfect.” They entered the clearing, and light glowed from the cabin. Tallulah and Chulah stood on the porch, watching them approach.
“Let me down,” she insisted, wiggling out of his arms. She and Tallulah may have drawn a truce, but Annie didn’t want to risk again being viewed as weak, as someone who needed her brother’s attention and distracted him from his duties.
Her feet made contact with the earth, and her knees buckled. Some of the numbness had left and in its wake left sharp nerves flagellating in protest at bearing weight. Damn. She was about to fall and humiliate herself. Tombi slipped an arm around her waist, and she gratefully sagged against the support he offered. She might look a bloody mess, but at least she stood on her own two feet. Sort of.
Tallulah shoved off from the porch steps and approached, Chulah close behind. “You look like shit,” she proclaimed.
Tombi stiffened. “Tallulah, what did I tell you—”
“I’m fine,” Annie said hurriedly. “A hot bath and a good night’s sleep is all I need.”
Tallulah stepped to her side and wrapped her arm around Annie as well, lending her support. “Any of your special witch’s herbs you want me to brew?”
Her words were brusque but not unkind. A cup of chamomile tea would be just the thing. “Sure. I’ll go in the kitchen with you and show you how.”
“Not necessary,” Tombi said. “I’ve watched you make it, and I know where everything’s at.”
They slowly made their way to the porch, and Chulah stepped in front of them to hold the front door open. He regarded her with—could it really be?—concern in his warm brown eyes. “I’m glad you’re okay.”
“Seriously?” Annie clamped a hand over her mouth as if to call back the word, wincing at the contact with her tender lips. “Thanks,” she mumbled, feeling foolish. Of course he and the others were glad she’d survived; they needed her to get the flute.
She hobbled to the kitchen table and sank into a chair, bones heavy and eyelids even heavier. One cup of tea and then it was bath and bedtime. She closed her eyes and sank her head in her hands, feeling the smooth oak of the table. Cabinet doors and low murmurs, the clanking of a teapot, the running of water—cozy sounds that invited slumber and a cocoon of safety.
Warmth pressed into the middle of her back.
“What—” She sprang up, dizzy and confused. The kitchen was packed with men. The hunters had come together, and they each stared unwaveringly at her.
Tombi set a mug of tea in front of her. “Drink this.”
The heat singed the raw flesh on her lips, but she drank and cradled the warm cup in her hands as if it were a magical elixir. She took dainty sips, conscious of everyone watching.
It was evidently too much to ask that she be allowed some peace and rest. They were set on hunting Hanan, and they would want to know everything that had taken place earlier. Tombi kept his hand possessively on her shoulder. For all she knew, some in the group still suspected she was the traitor. That would be much easier for them to accept—a witch infiltrates the group, charms their leader and casts blame on one of their closest friends. So much more acceptable than the truth, that the evil sprang from one of their own.
“What do you want to know?” she asked wearily, setting down the empty cup.
Chulah spoke for the group. “Tombi and Tallulah have filled us in on what happened. The only question remaining is—can you summon your hawk to bring us the flute?”
“I can try. I was able to contact him earlier. I don’t see why I couldn’t do it now, too.”
“Not right now.” Tombi’s grip on her shoulder tightened. “She’s been through enough. We’ll summon the hawk tomorrow and hold our ritual next week when the full moon rises. Our best chance to defeat Nalusa once and for all is to have that flute and use it at the right time. Together.”
“At least agree to let us track Hanan tonight,” Chulah argued. “He’s injured, and the odds of all of us against him are in our favor. We’ll find him and keep him under lock and key until this is over.” Tombi’s heartbeat grew stronger, faster, an angry tempo exploding sound waves.
“Go with them,” Annie said, looking up at his tight, set face. He wanted to be with his friends, wanted to help capture the traitor. “I’ll be fine.”
“I’ve left you alone before, and it never turns out well. I’m staying.”
Astonishment washed over Annie. He chose her instead of his men, instead of his duty. “You are? Really?”
“Of course.”
Tallulah jumped up from the table. “Good choice, brother. I’ll make sure that bastard pays for what he’s done.” She plucked a feather from her braid and held it out to Annie. “You showed great courage tonight. You insisted I run to get help, and you faced Na haksichi alone. And you had enough presence of mind to summon your animal guide and escape.”
Annie accepted the feather and nodded, too overcome with surprise and gratitude to speak. Tallulah nodded and marched out. One by one, each of the hunters stopped before Annie and gave her a feather, until the wooden tabletop was hidden beneath a pile of feathers in every dark earth and rainbow shade. When the last one had exited, she let the tears fall. This was the closest she’d ever come to feeling like part of a family. She hadn’t even known how much she’d craved this until the sense of belonging and acceptance built to a crescendo of emotion.
“Be right back.” Tombi withdrew and walked his guests to the door.
Annie dropped her head on the table, and feathers tickled her nose and cheeks. She heard a chorus of birds, each feather a note in a melody, as lovely as any she had ever heard. Sweet notes of love and home and family.
And she lost it. Totally lost all self-composure. She’d survived the ordeal with Hanan, but the acts of kindness were her undoing. If only Grandma Tia were here to see it, all would be perfect.
Strong arms enfolded her, encouraging her to stand.
“This has all been too much for you. Let’s get you cleaned up and into bed.”
She struggled to her feet, quelling the sniffling. Tombi smiled tenderly. He gently removed a blue feather stuck to her cheek with salty tear paste.
“Our tradition is to wear the feathers in our hair and not on our face.”
“I thought y’all should start something new.”
Annie shuffled to the back bedroom, leaning heavily on Tombi’s arm. The sight of the familiar fourposter bed with wool patterned blankets folded at the ends and the handmade, sturdy furniture felt like an oasis in a storm.
“It feels like I’ve been away for weeks,” she said with a sigh.
“It does. I’ve missed you.”
The admission glowed her heart and numbed the pain in her wrists and ankles and face. It wasn’t I love you, but she’d take it. In a heartbeat. Annie put her arms around his neck and kissed him enthusiastically.
“Ouch,” she gasped as her cut bottom lip protested the deep kiss.
“Passion can wait.” Tombi quickly guided her to the bathroom. “I’ve already drawn the water for you.”
The scent of chamomile and sweet orange emanated from the Jacuzzi tub. “You even added my favorite essential oils,” she marveled.
Tombi flashed a rare grin. “I pay attention,” he boasted. “Now take off your clothes.”
Annie mock saluted. “Yes, sir.” She slipped out of the dirty, sweaty T-shirt and jeans, bra and panties. Hanan had touched her through these clothes. The whole lot should be burned. If she ever wore them again, she’d remember him.
Quickly she slipped into the warm, scented bath, ready to wash away the unsettling memory of Hanan’s promise of more to come later. Impulsively, Annie dunked her whole body, face included, and let the water completely submerge her—a self-baptismal ritual to symbolically wash away all thoughts of Na haksichi. The raw skin on her wrists and ankles stung like a bitch, but they needed cleaning to prevent infection.
Tombi’s face was above her own, its harsh, dear form and features rippled and blurred through the transparent liquid wall between them. His frown meant he was concerned. Annie immediately sat up, pushing through the water. She clasped her wet hands on his forearms and tugged. “Join me.”
Tombi peeled off his shirt, and Annie smiled at his haste. No way was passion waiting until the morning. The sound and sight of him unbuckling his belt and unzipping his jeans wiped the smile from her face. This was what she needed. Him.
His erection popped loose from his briefs, and she swallowed hard. She squirted some body wash in her right palm, and when he sank into the tub opposite her, she massaged the wash onto his broad chest. White scars crisscrossed his flesh, and she lightly ran her fingers over them. “How did you get these?”
“Ishkitini. Horned owls known as shadow birds. They will sometimes attack if we slip past the wisps and get too close to Nalusa.”
She shuddered to think of Tombi being sliced by the birds of prey. And she pictured her hawk carving Hanan’s forehead and attaching his long talons into Hanan’s scalp. “My hawk attacked Hanan today. Do you think my spirit guide might have once been on the dark side?”
“No. Once you’ve crossed, you can never go back. Any being, human or animal, is forever tainted.” Tombi grasped her shoulders with his calloused hands and lowered his head to her level. “Now that we’re alone, tell me…what did Hanan do? The swelling on your face and lips is proof he struck you at least once.” He reached in the soapy water and raised her right hand. “And he cruelly bound you too tight. That was overkill.”
“He only struck me once. Let’s leave it at that.”
Tombi placed his palm over her left breast. “You are bruised here, as well.”
Annie hung her head. “Please. I don’t want to talk about it.”
He tried to gently lift her chin, but Annie jerked her head to the side.
“It will do you good to open up. We only have to talk about it this once, if you’d like.” He paused a heartbeat. “Did he force himself on you?”
She shook her head, still refusing to meet his direct gaze. “It didn’t get that far.”
Tombi remained silent, and she rushed to fill the void. “Once I was tied to the tree, he kissed me and…and then shoved himself against me and…pinched my breasts.”
“You must have been so scared.” Tombi wrapped her in his arms. “I’ll never let him hurt you again,” he said with fierce tenderness.
“I know,” she said, her voice muffled against his chest. “Just hold me a minute, okay?”
“Always.”
The steady drum of his heartbeat vibrated in every cell of her body, pulsing a message of love. He might not realize it, but he did love her. She knew it as certain as she knew she was the granddaughter of the most revered hoodoo practitioner in Alabama.
She soaked in every sensation, Tombi’s heartbeat, the warm water a liquid caress against her bare skin, the sweet scent he’d so thoughtfully provided. Annie used her newly found abilities to block out the rest of the world—the distant noise of cars, the humming of electrical appliances, the birds beginning to awaken and stir, welcoming in the morning. By focusing on the here and now, the intimacy was more profound.
For the first time, she was thankful for her special gift of hearing. This moment obliterated the childhood pain of being an outcast. She’d been born and fashioned for this man, just as he had been destined for her.
He had to feel it, too. The stubborn man. Even if this were their last night together, her heart and soul had irrevocably linked to his.
“Annie, are you ready for bed?”
She opened her eyes and blinked. “Huh? Did I fall asleep?”
“Just for a moment. Let me wash your hair and then tuck you into bed.”
She didn’t feel like bothering, but it seemed to please him to take care of her. “If you want.”
He climbed out of the tub and pulled the plug, turned on the faucet. “Stick your head under.”
A splat of shampoo landed on the top of her scalp and expert fingers massaged it in, kneading her temples and working back down to the tight muscles at the base of her neck. Heaven. And to think she had wanted to pass this up. Tombi could wash her hair all day if he pleased. Satisfied, he rinsed away the suds and then wrapped her head in a warm towel.
“That was amazing,” she said with a tired smile. “Thank you.”
His face darkened. “It’s the least I can do after failing to protect you.”
He helped her out of the tub and rubbed a thick towel over her body to dry her off, taking care to avoid the abraded skin.
“Don’t do that to yourself. Guilt is a terrible thing. It can destroy your spirit.”
“Easy for you to say,” Tombi grunted. “You’re an angel.”
Annie laughed until she caught his eye. He wasn’t smiling; he’d meant it. She flushed, thinking of all the times she’d been angry with her grandma for not instantly curing her of her hearing gift. “Not true. I can be quite selfish. You’re the one who’s always sacrificed everything for your family and friends.”
Tombi ruffled through a vanity drawer and produced a white tube. “Antibiotic cream,” he explained.
“That’s not necessary—”
“Lie on the bed, and let me dress your wounds.”
He was in full master-doctor mode, so she followed him to the bedroom and obediently lay down. Tombi sat beside her, squirted a dollop on his fingers and, with incredible gentleness, took one wrist and applied the cream.
