Bayou Shadow Hunter. Debbie Herbert
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a deep breath. This wasn’t easy to talk about. This was partly what alienated her from everyone. The crazy sticker on her forehead.
But the man didn’t flinch. “What did it say?”
Annie hedged. Once again, she was doing most of the talking. “Tell me your name.”
“Tombi. Tombi Silver.”
She inhaled sharply, and his eyes narrowed.
“What is it?” he demanded.
“The voice. It mentioned you by name.”
He leaned in and grabbed her arms, not bruising-hard, but enough so that she couldn’t run away. “What. Did. It. Say?”
What the hell. This wouldn’t be the first time she’d been used as a conduit for messages. Best to relay it and get on with her life. Otherwise, the wisp or spirit, or whatever that thing was, would keep appearing in some form or another until it had its way.
“It said you were in great danger and to trust no one, not even in your inner circle. That there’s a betrayer in your ranks, and if you were ever his true friend you need to find the betrayer, so he can be released.”
She didn’t think it possible the man—Tombi—could look fiercer, but he did. He let go of her and shook his head.
“No. I don’t believe you.”
Annie hitched her shoulders and raised her palms. “Fine. But that’s what the thing told me.”
“Did it have a name?”
“Bo.”
* * *
Ringing flooded Tombi’s ears. There’s worse things than witches. Much worse.
“What did Bo say?”
Annie recoiled, and he realized he was shouting. With great effort, he lowered his voice. “Tell me what he said.”
“He’s trapped inside a wisp and wants you to free him.”
Guilt and anger heaved in his stomach. “I’ve been trying to find him for weeks. Why didn’t he come to me? I was his best friend.”
Bo. His blood brother and childhood comrade. Always reliable. Always quick with the jokes and the laughter. And the only man who could make Tallulah laugh. His sister hadn’t smiled in months. Not since Bo died. Sometimes he wondered if she ever would again.
“Was your best friend?” Annie’s eyes rounded. “What happened to him?”
Tombi gritted his teeth. Oh, she looked innocent enough. Standing there in her flower-print T-shirt and drawstring pajama shorts. Brown hair tumbling in waves down to her hips. At first glance, she’d appeared a mere slip of a girl—skinny and all legs.
His eyes shifted to the fullness of her breasts and slight swelling of her hips. Definitely a woman. A very sexy woman. Not that it mattered. Evil spirits roamed in many guises.
“He died. Snakebite.” He watched her closely, checking for signs of guilt or glee.
She shuddered. “That’s horrible.”
“Died right where I found you tonight.”
Annie crossed her arms and looked downward apprehensively. “I hate snakes. Was it a rattler or a water moccasin?”
“Rattler. He died alone out there in the woods.” How many times had he imagined Bo’s horrible death? Imagined him feeling the rapid, burning spread of venom in his veins, knowing he was doomed.
Tombi drew a rasping breath. “He shouldn’t have had to die alone.”
“Nobody should,” she agreed. “How—how did he get trapped in a wisp?”
“You really don’t know?” he asked sharply.
“No.” She squared her shoulders. “I’ve only been out here a few weeks visiting my grandma. Lots of weirdness down here, even more than usual this summer. Stuff I’ve never seen before. Or heard.”
“About what you heard...what did Bo say exactly?”
“I told you. There’s a betrayer in your ranks. He wanted me to warn you of danger.”
A likely story. Wasn’t that the way evil sank its fangs into people? It insinuated and manipulated fear and mistrust where none existed. Until you became paranoid and relied only on your own wits for survival. He’d seen it so many times over the past few years.
“I don’t believe you.”
She shrugged. “Suit yourself. Don’t shoot me, I’m just the messenger.”
“You always go around hearing voices?” he sneered.
“Yes.”
Her quick, short response surprised him. “You do?”
“You already think I’m a witch, so—what the hell—yes, I hear things. Not voices usually. I hear music around people.”
“Music?” He snorted. What kind of strange magic was this?
Her lips compressed in a thin line. “It’s what drew me to the woods tonight. I heard the most beautiful music—it sounded like fairy bells.”
Tombi considered Annie’s words. “Did you smell anything?”
“Hmm? No. Not unless you count the constant smell of the ocean. Do the wisps have a certain smell?”
“They can. Will-o’-wisps appeal to different people different ways.” With him, they tried to mask their foul odor under the clean, sweet scent of balsam fir. He’d learned not to be drawn in by it.
“Your turn,” she said, casting him a curious look. “What are you doing running around the woods in the middle of the night?”
“Chasing shadows.” A half-truth.
Annie scowled. “Not fair. I answered your questions.”
As if there were anything fair about life.
The silhouette of an old woman appeared at the cottage window. Impossible to see her facial expression from this distance, but the prickling of his forearm skin alerted Tombi that she watched. Somehow, through distance and darkness, the old lady’s eyes clamped upon them.
Witch.
And this Annie girl was Tia Henrietta’s direct descendant. She was a perfect target for the dark spirit ruler and his host of creatures, potentially more valuable than a normal human who possessed no sensory power whatsoever. Had she been tainted yet by evil? Despite her scowl and crossed arms, she looked as harmless as a kitten with her big, wide eyes and skinny arms and legs.
Don’t be fooled by appearances. Tombi met her challenge with evasion. “There’s evil and dark shadows in the bayou that you’ve never imagined. If you’re not part of it, best you don’t learn.”
She cocked her head to one side and stilled, as if listening to something he couldn’t hear.
“What is it?” Tombi asked sharply. “Do you hear something?”
She nodded. “It’s faint, but distinct.”
Could this girl really hear others’ auras? Tombi shifted his feet and concentrated on containing his energy. The only sound in the night was the constant rolling of distant waves and the eternal screech of insects.
“It’s gone now,” Annie said. “But I heard your aura. Finally. I’ve never run across someone that I couldn’t.”
An undertow of intrigue tugged his mind. “Well? What do I sound like to you?”
“Drumming. A deep bass note. Steady as a heartbeat.”
He studied the delicate features of her face, the heart-shaped chin, small nose and wide brown eyes beneath arched