Bayou Shadow Hunter

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Annie swung her head in all directions but saw and sensed nothing in the shadows. “Why don’t you tell him yourself?”

“He can’t hear me, witch. No one ever has but you.”

“Oh,” she breathed. “That’s why you brought me here.” It...Bo...either knew her grandma or of her reputation. “I think you want my grandmother, not me. I’m only here on a visit and—”

“Warn him.”

The light shifted, swirling in individuated sparkles and growing smaller, denser.

“Wait,” she called out sharply. “Where are you going?”

But it had vanished.

A man slipped into her presence, silent as a windless sky. He leaned against a cypress, arms folded, face and body as unyielding and hard as the ancient tree. Eyes and hair were black as the night, and the only lightness on his figure was a golden sheen on his face and arms.

Friend or foe?

Silence blanketed her mind. A condition she normally welcomed, but not now. Where was her accursed ability when she needed it? Not the slightest syllable of sound surrounded the man.

“Who are you?” she asked, hoping her voice didn’t portray fear.

He stepped closer, and she willed her feet to remain rooted to the ground, to cloak the fear.

“Who are you?” His voice was deep, sharp-edged with suspicion.

She’d been wrong. The golden sheen of his skin wasn’t the only thing that stood out in the darkness. The man’s eyes radiated a copper glint like an encapsulated sun with rays. His teeth were white and sharp.

He didn’t wait for an answer. “Who were you talking to? There’s no one else out here but us.”

“I was talking to myself,” she lied. No sense exposing herself to ridicule.

“Roaming the woods alone at night and talking to yourself?” He scowled. “You must be crazy.”

Despite the scowl and rough tone, the icy touch of fear at the base of her spine thawed a bit. This stranger could think what he wanted about her mental health and lecture her ad nauseam about the idiotic decision to follow the wisp. At least he wasn’t attacking her. If he meant harm, he could have lunged forward and grabbed her by now.

“Yes.” Annie agreed. “I’m totally off my rocker.” Wouldn’t be the first time someone thought that. “How about being a good Boy Scout and help me find my way home?”

“First, tell me your name and why you’re out here.”

“Fine. My name’s Annie Matthews, and I saw a strange light from my bedroom window. Like an idiot, I decided to check it out. Now, can you please get me out of here?”

He stared, those strange copper rays in his irises warming her insides. Abruptly, he turned his back and stepped away.

What a jerk. Annie’s lips tightened to a pinched line. “Hey—wait a minute. Are you going to help me or not?”

The man didn’t even look back but motioned with an arm for her to follow.

She let out a huge sigh. Jerk or not, her best bet was to follow him out of the swamp. Annie stumbled after him and onto the barest sliver of a trail. The narrow footpath was canopied by pines and oaks, obscuring the full-moon light. Her toe caught under a tree root, and she pitched forward, free-falling. She braced herself for the impact of packed dirt to face.

Strong arms grabbed the sides of her waist, and her chest bumped solid flesh. Annie raised her chin and stared deeply into the brown eyes. “Th-thank you,” she whispered. His hands above her hips held fast, steadying her—burning her. Annie’s hands rested lightly on his chest, and she couldn’t move or speak.

A low, thudding bass note, a drumbeat, pounded in her ears. Was it from her heart beating faster, or was sound escaping his controlled aura?

“I forget you can’t see like me.” He took one of her hands in his. “Stay close.”

Before she could object or ask what his remark meant, he pulled her forward.

She should be terrified alone in the woods with a stranger.

But for the first time since hearing the voice inside the wisp, Annie felt safe.

The narrow trail of dense shrubs and overarching tree limbs gave way to a wider, more open trail illuminated by the Thunder Moon. It was as if he were leading her down a silent passage that exited a nightmare.

At the edge of the tree line lay an open field. Weeds and brambles rippled, silver-tipped from moonbeams and glistening like drops of water dancing on waves. A glow flickered in Grandma Tia’s cottage, a lighthouse beam signaling home.

Annie glanced at the man’s chiseled profile. Harsh, fierce even. Handsome seemed too pretty a word to describe him. He was powerful, a force of the night.

“Beyond this field is a dirt road that leads to County Road 143. Know where you are now?”

She laughed, giddy with relief, and pointed to the cottage. “Of course. That’s my grandma’s house. Her name’s Tia Henrietta. Maybe you’ve met her before?”

“The witch in the woods?” Surprise flickered in his eyes. “I should have guessed. Are you one, as well?”

She tugged her hand away from his. “No more than you.”

His hand reached out and stroked the red flannel mojo pouch belted at her waist. “What magic is this?”

“Gris-gris bags. My grandma makes them. For protection.”

“Didn’t work, huh?”

“Sure it did. It brought you to me, and then you brought me home.”

His lips curled. “I don’t know what kind of magic your grandmother claims to have, but that pouch didn’t help you when the will-o’-the-wisp conjured you into the woods.”

“What do you know of them?” she asked, burning with curiosity now the danger had passed.

He ignored her question. “So you followed this light. What happened next?”

She bit her lip. “Looks like I’m the one doing all the talking. How about I tell you one thing, then you tell me one thing?”

He nodded. “Deal.”

“Okay, then. The light disappeared a few minutes. When it came back, something inside it spoke.” Annie took 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.