Bayou Shadow Hunter, page 24
Annie loved him, but he’d held a bit of himself back, and she knew it. If he died, he wanted her to move on and find someone who could give her all of himself. Someone who could put her happiness first.
Tombi told her none of this.
He ended the kiss. The longer he waited, the more difficult the parting. “Go inside,” he said gruffly.
She shook her head.
“Please.”
Annie bit her lip. “Maybe I could help if you take me with you.”
“No. I would be looking out for you and not focusing on anything else.”
“If you’re sure—”
“Very. Go.” He stepped back and crossed his arms. “I’ll watch until you get inside.”
With a sigh, she nodded and walked slowly back to the cabin.
Her silhouette appeared in the den window, and she pressed her face against the glass.
He longed to go to her, to the warmth and light of the cabin. But his duty was clear, and he would not stray. Tombi turned away and headed into the inky blackness of the bayou swamp.
Annie restlessly paced the cabin; burning some energy moderately helped manage the terror. She’d done everything she could do, lit incense, prayed at her makeshift altar and called Grandma Tia and asked her to do the same. She stared out the window, willing Tombi to materialize from out of the darkness, to walk across the field and back into her arms. Alive and safe and victorious.
Nothing but night’s black veil. She drew the curtain and started to turn when a speck of light appeared in her peripheral vision. Annie stared again into the night.
A blue-green orb skittered to within a few feet of the window. Its shaped wavered and flickered like a candle in the wind; the green color pulsed rapidly within its core.
High-pitched wailing assaulted her ears. She recognized that voice.
Bo.
Tombi was in danger. Annie flew to the door and ran down the porch stairs. “What’s happened?”
“You must come. Quick. Bring your herbs.”
“Is it Tombi?” she asked, already rushing back up to the door.
“No.” She could have sworn she heard sobbing. “It’s Tallulah. Hurry.”
Relief washed over her, followed by a tinge of guilt. She didn’t want anybody hurt or killed. Annie grabbed her pocketbook and went to her altar, stuffing in everything available: candles, herbs, essential oils, Florida water, tea.
Back out the door she followed the flickering, agitated wisp that held Bo’s soul. Even without the light, she could locate Bo from the grief-stricken melody that flowed out of him like a mighty river. On and on she stumbled through the swamp until a stitch cramped her side, and each breath felt like inhaling flames of fire.
Annie stopped and leaned against an oak, trying to catch her breath.
“Almost there,” Bo urged.
Reluctantly, she straightened and pressed on.
Another few feet and Annie heard a low moan of pain.
“Here. Help her!” The wisp pulsed in and out with agitation above a cypress, and then its light faded away. Underneath, Tallulah cowered, hands clutching her temples.
She rushed over and dropped to her knees. “Tallulah, it’s me, Annie. What happened to you?”
Eyes fogged with pain looked up at her in confusion. “Wh-what are you doing here? Dangerous. I sense a wisp is nearby.”
“We’re safe for the moment. Where are you hurt?” Annie pushed Tallulah’s hair from her face, searching for blood or a wound.
Tallulah placed a hand on the back of her skull. “Here.”
Annie felt the baseball-sized knot. “How did this happen?”
“Felled by my own weapon,” she said bitterly. “I shot a wisp, and one of the ishkitini grabbed my stone and threw it back at me.” She whimpered as Annie probed the damage. “Strange. That’s never happened before.” She stopped and drew a shaky breath. “Wasn’t…expecting it.”
“Nalusa and his shadows grow stronger,” Bo said.
Tallulah stilled. “Did you hear something? Or did this blow to the head make me crazy?”
Annie scrambled in her bag and pulled out a bottle of water. She added a tincture of willow bark. “This might help the pain,” she said gently.
Tallulah lifted the bottle to her lips and drank greedily.
“Is she going to be okay?” Bo asked anxiously.
“I hear something again.” Tallulah straightened. “I swear it sounded like… Bo? Are you out there? Can you hear me?”
The wisp glowed and flickered before them.
“Tallulah. My love.”
Wonder clouded Tallulah’s eyes. “Bo! I can hear you.” Tears ran down her face. “I’ve missed you so much. Come back to me.”
“If only I could.”
Bo’s voice was filled with such sadness, Annie felt her own eyes fill with tears. She couldn’t imagine how awful it would be if something were to happen to her love.
“But it’s time to let go of the past,” Bo said. “For better or worse, the battle ends tonight. Before it starts, I need you to do one thing for me.”
“Whatever you want,” Tallulah promised at once.
“Release me. There’s nothing more I can do to help.”
“But…if I release your spirit, I’ll never be near you again.”
“I’ll still be with you. I’ll be there when the birds sing at morning’s awakening, when the wind lifts the hair from the back of your neck during the noonday heat, and when the stars glow in the heavens at night, I’ll be watching over you.”
Tallulah wept, and Annie cried, too, for the gentle man who had been Tombi’s best friend and who had been taken so young and had been so in love.
“And I’ll look for you and remember you. Always.” Tallulah dried her eyes and struggled to her feet, a rock in her hands.
Annie turned her back. The moment was too intimate and personal to witness.
A whoosh of sound and the air shimmered with a splintering of light, until one lone glow remained. It hovered a few seconds and then sped up into the heavens.
It was done.
“I thought he’d never leave.”
Tallulah spun around, but Annie absorbed the shock in the pit of her stomach. She turned slowly, as if her body was weighted by cement blocks. As if some small part of her mind had known this was inevitable.
Hanan, sporting a grotesque, bloodied scar across his forehead, gripped a leather belt in front of him, snapping it open and shut, the sound a riptide in Annie’s ears as she imagined the strap cutting into her flesh.
“Run, Annie,” Tallulah demanded.
“No.” Annie stepped close to Hanan. She had her hawk and her hoodoo, while Tallulah was only armed with a bag of rocks.
Hanan roughly pulled her tight against his body and jerked her so she faced forward; the bite of the belt choked into her neck until she could barely breathe. “Leave or I’ll kill her now,” he warned.
“You son of a bitch,” Tallulah snarled. “I can’t believe I ever—”
“Screwed me?” Hanan asked, amusement lacing his words. “You quite enjoyed it. Over and over again. Remember?”
An ishkitini screeched nearby. Annie lifted a hand and signaled for Tallulah to go. Pain erupted as Hanan twisted her neck, so fiercely Annie heard sinew and tendon pop from deep within. She whimpered.
“Stay and watch your friend suffer,” he spat. “The ishkitini will do much worse to you.” Tallulah scowled at Hanan and turned to Annie. “I’ll get help,” she vowed.
Annie stared at the promise in Tallulah’s eyes until the acorn-brown pupils disappeared and blurred into the stygian darkness.
The night was alive with the drone of stinging insects, the thrashing of tree limbs, a rumble of distant ocean waves and the rasping breath of her captor hot in her ears. Through the symphony of terror, she heard her own heart thump as violently as a trapped rabbit’s quivering. She’d never felt so utterly alone.
CHAPTER 19
* * *
The eerie shrieks of the ishkitini prickled the flesh on Tombi’s forearms, yet he continued on, ever deeper into the woods, until the air became dense with a suffocating miasma, which meant wisps were nearby.
Lots of them.
Above the treetops, flocks of ishkitini shadowed the full moon. Will-o’-the-wisps, Hashok Okwa Hui’ga, lit the ground in a ghostly festival of lights, outnumbering his hunters by a large margin.
An overwhelming despair threatened to slow his steps, but Tombi pushed on, heading for the sacred land of his ancestors. Nalusa knew he was in a compromised position and had gathered all his forces to even the fight.
He pictured Annie, remembered his sister and friends who were circling around the edge of the wisps, coming together to encircle Nalusa and his shadow beings. He threw back his shoulders and fingered the backpack straps holding the flute. He took comfort in possessing the ultimate weapon and that Annie was safe in his cabin.
Another fifty feet to go until reaching the sacred land border. The wisps sensed the danger; they darted across the swamp erratically, moaning with the souls of the trapped spirits. The squall of misery that combated the ishkitini screeching. Tombi drew a deep breath and focused on the human footsteps advancing along with him. All was according to plan.
He plunged forward until he was a good ten feet inside his ancestral land. It was time. Attack the wisps now, and free as many spirits as possible before playing the flute and confronting Nalusa. If he did it too early, the shadow king would cower behind his following. And Tombi wanted the chance to wrestle him, one on one. Tombi cawed, mimicking a crow.
And ran. All of the hunters rushed inward, compressing the circle’s circumference. They threw rocks, careful not to throw strong enough to hit one another. A few wisps escaped, light blinking upward, the inner hearts glowing and pulsing. If they defeated Nalusa, they would do a cleanup operation later to find and free the remaining trapped souls. But if Nalusa won, the poor souls would be trapped forever, roaming the swamps with the parasitic wisps controlling their movements. Tombi doubted any of them had Bo’s incredible will and strength to briefly take control of the wisps and communicate with the outside world.
Puffs of smoke erupted from the glowing wisp hearts—like a million sparklers waving in the sea breeze. The sparkles burned out, and the souls coalesced into pure white light that spiraled upward. If Annie were here, she could detect a symphony. At least, that was how Tombi imagined it would be—utter joy at the sudden freedom.
The screeching above intensified. A great horned owl flew directly at him, eyes aglow with murderous intent. There was no time to grab another stone and fend him off. Tombi clutched the dagger in his left hand, his own eyes focused on the owl’s breast, its most vulnerable place, housing its beating heart.
The owl would scratch first, before his knife could strike, and it would be a vicious slice into flesh, or worse, it could rip out his eyes. A quick glance around, and he saw the ishkitini bearing down on them all. Damn birds. To be defeated by these winged creatures would be humiliating.
A burst of light appeared between him and the owl. Tombi blinked and threw his right hand over his eyes to protect himself from the blinding conflagration.
It was a trapped spirit who, instead of flying up and away, had remained.
A loud screech of pain rent the night air. A smell of burned feathers and singed animal flesh clogged his nose and throat. Tombi crouched low and removed his arm from his eyes. The ishkitini lay before him—dead.
The lone light rocketed up and away, chasing its freedom with the others released. All around him, his hunters took aim and fired at the advancing ishkitini. Nearly a third of them were taken down, and the rest turned tail.
Tombi smiled in grim satisfaction. They moved closer until they formed a tight circle. A few of the men were bleeding, but all looked well. Yet…
“Where’s Tallulah?” he asked, fear thickening his tongue.
Chulah stepped forward, his face haggard. “No one’s seen her in over an hour.”
“Go find her,” he ordered.
His friend nodded and left the circle, eager to ease his mind. She’s okay. She can defend herself. Tombi respected her defense abilities and sharp mind. He couldn’t worry about his twin until Nalusa was defeated.
They would never have a better time than this moment. Two of the hunters quickly gathered twigs and started a bonfire in the center of the circle. Each of them threw bundles of sage on the flames, the pungent scent that helped counter evil and allow the holy to enter.
Tombi dug the flute out of his backpack and blew on it, beginning an ancient song of victory. The notes drifted, pure and compelling, filling him with purpose and resolve.
A rustle shook the underbrush a few yards away, and the grinding metal whir began, drowning out the flute music. Tombi stopped playing. A whiff of decay permeated the land. Tombi’s heart tripped, and all his senses heightened. His friends turned and stared, and they waited as one for Nalusa to appear.
Dark shadows melded into the form of a tall, thin man who stepped into their vision. He had small, pointed ears and red, glowing eyes that sought Tombi.
“So you’ve got the flute,” Nalusa said in a voice that rumbled like thunder. “But you are still no match for me.”
“We’ll see about that. Seems all your help has disappeared.” Tombi lifted his hand, ready to signal for his friends to begin the attack.
“That doesn’t mean I am without power. I have something you want. Something you consider precious.”
Tombi hesitated, arm held midair. His heart skittered up to his throat. Nalusa had his sister. What else could it be? Unless…
Another rustle from behind a clump of cypress trees, and more dark shadows emerged. Two of them. A blond male and a slight woman with a familiar shock of brown hair curling down to her hips.
“Annie!” Tombi’s hand dropped to his side, and a numbed shock bolted through his body like a current. His fingers loosened, and the flute began to slip. He fisted both hands, and the cane reed almost snapped in two pieces while he willed his mind to catch up to his racing heart. Not Annie. Not Annie. Please, not Annie.
Nalusa’s deep-throated laugh jangled through the bayou. “Ready to make a deal? The flute for your girlfriend.”
“Don’t do it, Tombi!” Annie pleaded. “This is your chance.”
Hanan jerked the leather strap, and Annie’s knees crumpled, face contorted in agony.
No. What mattered most was no longer revenge. It was love. He would fight Nalusa not just for his sister’s ruined life or the hunters that were his family now. Not for his dead friend and not for the greater good of humanity, but he would fight to save Annie. He’d do whatever necessary to keep her safe.
She was his world.
“How about this,” Tombi said, slipping the backpack off his shoulders and letting it drop to the ground. “Have Hanan release Annie, and we battle for the flute. Just you and I.”
Nalusa ran a hand over his long, pointed face, ears twitching and teeny eyes surveying Tombi.
“I’m a mere human,” Tombi goaded. “This shouldn’t be hard for you.”
“You are more than a puny mortal.” A fine drizzle of spit foamed at the corners of his thin lips. He pointed a finger at Hanan. “Release the girl.”
Hanan scowled but took a step backward.
Damn traitor. If he defeated Nalusa tonight, he’d show no mercy dealing with Hanan later. Annie took great gulps of air, and Tombi winced at her suffering.
He stepped toward Nalusa, fists raised, and they commenced circling one another—watchful, with deadly intent, gauging their first moves. By the bonfire’s light, Tombi saw that Nalusa’s face was largely featureless, with only a shadowy patch of skin where a nose and cheekbones should appear. His flesh was black, but patterned copper designs shimmered on his skin in the firelight, making him appear half human, half snake. Even though the eyes were human-shaped, the red embers of his pupils burned with the misery of a thousand souls.
Tombi stared harder. Did he see human faces contorting in misery within those red eyes? He took a deep breath. Focus. I can’t let him invade my mind, or I’ve lost before the fight has begun.
Nalusa struck first, swinging a right hook, aimed at Tombi’s face.
Tombi ducked at the last possible second and put out a foot to trip Nalusa. The soul-eater danced away and regained his balance.
“Not bad,” he muttered. “You’ve been training for this fight for years, haven’t you?”
Tombi didn’t respond, waiting for Nalusa to show a moment’s loss of concentration before he tried to volley a series of punches.
Melancholy roiled over him in waves. A bitter miasma invaded his lungs, his heart. Fighting seemed…too hopeless, too futile. Who was he to think he could battle the Shadow King? He stiffened his spine and shook off the dreary thoughts.
Go for the neck. According to ancient lore, if Nalusa had a weakness, it was this one part of his anatomy.
Nalusa lunged, swinging wildly with his right fist. Tombi pushed at the advancing arm, spinning and hammering Nalusa in the back of the neck with his right elbow. Numbness shot through his right arm. A stinger injury. The Shadow King’s neck muscles were as heavy as cement, muscular and flexible beneath a wall of sinewy muscle.
So much for ancient legend.
Nalusa staggered, but at once regained his balance and threw a few fake jabs, obviously trying to find a weakness in Tombi’s defense. Tombi stayed alert. He wanted to shake the numbed right arm and get the blood flowing, but to do so would clue in Nalusa on his injury. He couldn’t let that happen.
Time for a little testing of his own. He threw a fake punch but overcommitted, leaving the one side of his body open and vulnerable. Pain exploded in his right hip, and he was thrown to the ground from a vicious kick. Didn’t take Nalusa but a nanosecond to react to an opportunity. Tombi rolled a couple of yards and leaped back to his feet, body semi-crouched and fists up in the defensive position.
That had been close, a near thing. It was believed that if Nalusa grabbed a man, there was no escape. His strength was equal to a thirty-foot boa that could constrict and crush muscle and bone.
