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So she was one of those conservation types. They’d dealt with them before. Payton slapped on a fake smile and tried a placating tone of voice. “Look, lady, uh...what’s your name?”
“Tallulah,” she replied grudgingly. “Tallulah Silver.”
He nodded. “Payton Rodgers. Now, unless you have a property title in hand, Miss Silver, you have no say in this matter.”
“All of Bayou La Siryna once belonged to my people, the Choctaw. I’m not moving.”
An uncharacteristic silence settled over the workplace. All the men had turned off their chain saws and regarded the intruder quizzically. A few were just plain getting an eyeful.
Payton had to admit the crazy woman was easy on the eyes—she was tall with lean muscles but all the right curves, long black hair and angular features. Her fierce don’t-mess-with-me attitude was a characteristic some men found to be a welcoming challenge. Not that he was one of them. Nope. Give him a woman with a soft voice and gentle, feminine manner. Someone that didn’t ask too many questions or make too many demands.
“Stay then. Suit yourself,” he said, bluffing, as he climbed back into the cab and gunned the engine. He thrust the gears and moved forward a couple of feet.
Damn it to hell. She stayed rooted to the spot and regarded him defiantly, a smirk flirting at the edge of her full lips.
Payton sighed and jumped back out of the skidder. Heat flushed up his neck as the pack watched his defeat. “What do you want me to do?” he asked her, throwing up his hands. “You really gonna stand there all day?”
“As long as it takes.”
Smart-ass woman. “You know you’re wasting your time. We’ll just work around you.”
A flicker of uncertainty lit her dark brown eyes, and he felt momentarily guilty. Payton wasn’t entirely unsympathetic to her cause. If anyone had the right to protest timber cutting, it was Native Americans. “We’re only harvesting the wood,” he explained, keeping his voice reasonable. “We’ll plant new trees when the job is finished.”
Tallulah lifted her chin. “I’ve seen what these crews do. You’ll clear valuable hardwood, and when you leave, you’ll replant only pine. Doing that destroys the wildlife habitat.”
“The company we work for replants the same ratio of tree species as what we clear.” This he could say with a clear conscience. He wouldn’t do this work otherwise.
Miss High-and-Mighty only sniffed. “Like I’d believe you. Even if that were true, you’re still disrupting our wildlife.”
Payton shifted his feet. Yeah, he wasn’t too wild about that, either. But if he didn’t do it, someone else would. This was the employment his pack had chosen. In many ways, the job was perfect. Work in a transient crew a few months, and then move on. That way, no one had time to really get to know you and discover your big, hairy secret. And when trouble brewed with neighboring packs, you could always cut out for greener pastures. If he had twinges of guilt, that was his problem. A small price to pay for the pack’s safety.
“Sorry you feel that way,” he said stiffly. “But that doesn’t change the fact that you aren’t allowed to be here. It’s dangerous.”
“I have no fear of danger.”
Because she was daft. He tried to appeal to her sense of self-preservation. “You might get sliced with a chain saw or run over by heavy equipment. You see all of us in hard hats and goggles? There’s a reason for it.”
Tallulah shrugged.
Maybe an appeal to her dignity would do the trick. “Leave now, or the police will come out here and forcibly remove you,” he threatened.
She didn’t blink. “They can try.”
He caught movement in his peripheral vision as Matt strolled over. Great, she’d make him look like an idiot in front of his alpha.
“Is there a problem?” Matt asked in his wry, quiet way. He signaled the others to get back to work, and a loud buzzing returned to the scene.
“Yes. I’ve got a problem with you destroying these trees.” Tallulah tossed her mane of black hair and raised her voice over the whir of the chain saws. “Some of them have stood for decades.”
“They’re coming down,” Matt said firmly. “Unless you have a court order to stop us.”
She flushed. “I don’t. Not yet. This project sure was kept on the down-low. I didn’t know about it until I happened to drive past and heard the noise.”
“I suggest you protest this through the court system,” he murmured.
“By then, it will be too late,” she spat out. “All the trees will be cut.”
Matt didn’t respond, but his powerful, firm energy was like a force of nature. Being the alpha came naturally to him.
Tallulah turned her attention from Matt and shot Payton a daggered look with narrowed eyes. “I’ll be back,” she promised. “And I won’t be alone.”
Payton removed his hard hat and ran a hand through his hair. He nodded at Tallulah, but she’d turned away, her spine ramrod straight as she made long, purposeful strides toward the county road.
Of course she’d return. What fun this job was shaping up to become. The long, hot summer stretched before him, full of conflict with the locals, high heat and humidity and increased guilt over the destruction of yet more land.
He wasn’t the only one watching her ass sway in angry strides to her car. Eli, one of the ground cutters, approached and nudged his side. “What a looker. You get her number?”
Payton snorted. “I reckon she’d rather spit on me than exchange phone numbers.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that,” Eli said with a slow drawl. “Where there’s sparks, there’s chemistry.”
Huh. More like “where there’s smoke, there’s fire.” And an opportunity to get burned again when it came time to pick up and leave again for the next job, the next town. No thank you.
Chapter 2 (#uc0b8ef2a-0bb7-5199-8460-a997e0596782)
Dark clouds grayed the sky, and thunder rumbled through the woods. Fat, splatting raindrops dripped from magnolias and pines.
Tallulah didn’t care. The increased gales cooled her hot skin and made her restless, hungry for action. Wisps would be out this evening—the storm energy called to their chaotic, wild nature. For the past week, they’d been more active. So had the Ishkitini, as they’d hooted and fluttered in the treetops, ever watchful, looking for an opportunity to swoop in and slash with their sharp talons.
It wasn’t her imagination. Her brother, Tombi, and the rest of the hunters felt it, too. They’d be joining her during the next full moon’s hunting. For now, they were busy with new lives, new loves. Tallulah tamped down the jealous twinges. She’d had a shot at domesticity last year when Chulah, a lifelong friend and hunter, had proposed marriage. She’d even had second thoughts about turning him down, but then he’d fallen for a fairy, and that was the end of that.
It was all for the best. No one could ever compare to Bo, and second best wasn’t fair to anyone.
Whoosh.
Tallulah ducked and loaded her slingshot in one swift movement—but not before a talon swiped the side of her neck. Ignoring the pain, she released the stone. It thudded against flesh, and a lump of brown-and-gray feathers hit the ground.
Excellent. But the damn owl had got in a lick. Tallulah carefully touched the scrape and then examined her fingers, sticky with blood. Not too bad. Might not even need stitches. She dug in her backpack and unwrapped an antiseptic wipe. The alcohol stung a bit as she placed it on the gash, but nothing like a future infection would hurt. Quickly, she bandaged the wound and continued into the woods.
Where the Ishkitini appeared, the will-o’-the-wisps were sure to follow. The night would not be wasted if she killed a wisp. Every defeat ensured a safer, more successful full-moon hunt. She attuned her senses to the night, amplifying sight, sound and smell, then inhaled the scents of wet leaves and damp soil, and even the coppery smell of her own blood, which left a metallic taste in her throat.
Branches scraped bark. Little critters—squirrels, rabbits, mice—scrambled about the carpet of pine needles and the prickly underbrush of saw palmettos and stunted shrubs. Tallulah’s vision adjusted to the gathering darkness, and she unerringly kept to the path leading to the center of the forest.
A teal glow burst through a gap in the oaks—a wisp. Her breath quickened. She needed to get a little closer. Soundlessly, she padded from tree to tree, pausing to hide her body while she edged nearer.
The glow dazzled her eyes. The wisp floated a mere ten feet away. She’d been spotted.
Tallulah loaded the slingshot.
It’s useless, the negative whisper echoed in her mind. She had come way too close to the wisp. Close enough that it could invade her thoughts, inducing despair and misery and hopelessness. The wisps thrived on human suffering. It made them stronger, more deadly.
Death is imminent. Don’t fight it.
No way. Tallulah’s arm drew back the slingshot band, ready to strike.
Join Bo.
Her lungs squeezed, and her throat painfully tightened, as if a boa constrictor were wrapped around her chest. Her breath grew harsh, and her biceps quivered and strained on the band.
You know you want to see him again. It would be so easy. Give in.
Bo. It dared mention his name. She stared at the center of the wisp, where the blue-green heart pulsed. Where the imprisoned spirit lived its miserable existence. Because that’s what wisps did. They killed humans and trapped their souls inside their parasitic bodies. That’s what they had done to Bo—until she had killed the wisp host and set Bo free.
Bo was dead, but at least he’d passed over into the After Life.
“You lie,” she growled harshly. She could never be with Bo again. Not in this life.
Hot, angry tears burned her eyes, but Tallulah got off her shot. Then another and another. Stones whizzed through the air at top speed.
The wisp collapsed upon itself, gray smoke from its dead form carried up to the skies by the storm’s wind. Tallulah swiped at her eyes, wanting to see the soul’s release. It was one of the few pleasures of being a shadow hunter.
From the dying, gray ash, the teal heart transformed to a small, pure white spirit, as tiny as the flick of a cigarette lighter. The trapped soul took wing, flying up to the After Life. Tallulah leaned against the nearest tree, watching. Praying. It was a sacred moment. A shame that April, the fairy, wasn’t here. April had the ability to communicate with and identify the released souls. Whoever this soul belonged to, Tallulah wished it Godspeed on its journey to reunite with ancestors and loved ones.
Before Tallulah could pack her slingshot away, a chilling cry rent the air—the unmistakable cry of an animal in the throes of death. Once heard, it was never forgotten. Tallulah shoved off the tree, instantly wary, and tried to pinpoint the location. Such was nature—one moment divine, the next moment a brutal kill.
The question in her mind wasn’t figuring out the kind of victim, but rather identifying the size and ferocity of the predator. Was she in danger?
Judging from the small size of the victim and the distance of the killing, probably not. She turned to go home. One Ishkitini, one wisp and one wound were enough for a day’s work. And what an aggravating day it had been, right from the beginning when she drove to work and witnessed the trees being destroyed.
Payton’s image flashed in her mind’s eye. The challenging spark in his smoky gray eyes, the power of his lithe body... Not that she was interested in someone employed in that despicable occupation. Besides, she wanted a man like Bo—kind and sensitive and understanding. Domineering men like Payton held no charm.
So why was she thinking of him? Impatiently, Tallulah wiped Payton’s image from her thoughts and quickened her step. If she hurried, she’d arrive at her cabin before the worst of the storm was unleashed.
The death cries continued. Nature was a cruel bitch, she mused. As quickly as they had begun, the pitiful squeals stopped—it was dead and done, and the knot in her shoulders relaxed. She might be used to the ways of the wild, but it didn’t mean her heart was immune to its violence.
A crack of thunder rumbled, and she upped her pace to a light jog. Her mind calmed and jumped ahead to trivial matters—what to fix for dinner and what TV show to watch afterward. Another exciting evening alone.
Tallulah rounded a bend in the trail, only to find the wolfish creature from the night before blocking her path, twenty feet ahead.
She stilled and drew a sharp breath. It came with no warning. Perhaps she wouldn’t have been caught unawares if she hadn’t let her attention drift. Focus. That was the number-one rule of the shadow hunter—a basic tenet to avoid spirits and predators before you became their next meal.
Blood dripped from the beast’s gaping mouth, and bits of rabbit carcass hung from its back molars. Mystery solved as to the screams—the thing should be sated. Its eyes focused on her neck, and she touched the crusty bandage. Could it smell her blood from that distance? Anger replaced fear in pounding waves of adrenaline. She was bigger and smarter than the animal, and she was a skilled hunter with a weapon. If anyone had the upper hand, it was her.
“You want a piece of this again?” She withdrew her slingshot from her backpack.
The animal growled, but hung its head in submission. The cagey fellow remembered that, all right.
“Go on—git!” she yelled, and the beast snarled, but turned and trotted off.
Were there others like him? Was she in the midst of its territory? Impulsively, Tallulah followed it from a respectful distance, using all her tracking skills to move as soundlessly as possible. It never even looked back.
Curiosity killed the cat, you know.
She ignored the internal warning voice. In her experience, knowledge was king. Twice in two days, this animal had confronted her, and she vowed to learn more about it. Kill or be killed. That was the lesson of the wild.
Close to the end of the trail, the animal veered off the path into a clearing, a wide-open area recently planted with cotton. The quarter moon easily highlighted its movement down rows of ankle-deep greenery, allowing her to watch from a greater distance. Across the field, bright lights shone through windows at Jeb’s old farmhouse. He’d vacated it last year and put it up for sale, preferring to live closer to town now that he was older and his sons had taken on most of the farming duties.
News to her that someone had bought the old place. It was large and old-fashioned, a wooden, three-story behemoth that over the decades had been a temporary home for many field hands. Nearly every house light blazed, and over a dozen cars and trucks were parked in the front yard.
The animal cut a direct path across the cotton field, straight to the back porch door. Was it a danger to anyone who might step outside for a smoke or a bit of fresh air? Tallulah jogged across the field, prepared to fight if needed, but the creature confidently climbed the back steps and nudged open the screen door with its broad snout.
Tallulah ran, blood pounding in her ears as loud as ocean waves crashing on shore. She’d never seen a wild animal so brazen, so indifferent to the danger posed by humans. At the edge of the property, she witnessed the animal squeeze into an extralarge doggie door and enter the farmhouse.
It was in the freaking house. She panted, hands on hips, trying to make sense of what she’d seen. The animal was not a dog. It more closely resembled a coyote. Actually...okay, she admitted to the fantastic notion, it appeared to be a wolf. It was much too large to be a coyote. Wolves weren’t supposed to be in south Alabama, but she’d seen many stranger things in the bayou woods.
Her ears tingled, waiting for the inevitable shrieks and commotion from inside the house, but silence reigned in the woods.
She’d heard wolves were cagey, but this was ridiculous. A wild animal in the house was bound to make noise, would elicit surprise from the residents. Obviously, people were home—unless they had gone out and left all the lights on.
Yes, that could explain it. Curiosity propelled her forward until she crept in the hedges against the farmhouse. A jumble of male voices sounded in a back room as she passed, and she raised up from her crouch by the open window. Just a quick second was all she needed, and she ducked back down in the hedge before she could be spotted.
The den was packed with over a dozen men. Some playing cards, some watching TV and a couple playing pool.
Not a wolf in sight. And no commotion among the men.
Tallulah tiptoed to the driveway, determined to learn as much as possible. Heat fanned across her face. Peeping into windows wasn’t exactly her normal modus operandi. It was necessary. The wolf is a danger, and my duty is to protect, she insisted to herself. Still, the curiosity remained, and she decided to see if she recognized any of the cars.
A hodgepodge of pickup trucks and beater cars were parked haphazardly in the front yard. Crouching, she went from vehicle to vehicle. All of them had Montana tags. Transient farm workers arrived from all over, but usually they were from nearby states, and quite a few came from elsewhere in Alabama.
Now what? Tallulah stood, debating her options. Perhaps a ruse could gain her entry. She’d knock at the door and claim to be looking for her lost dog. But that wouldn’t be too smart. She was no frail flower, but a single female approaching a group of strange men at night would be a dumb move. No, best to leave and gather more information later.
A screen door creaked open.
Holy crap. Tallulah dropped to the ground behind a truck, and her heart thudded against her chest as she listened intently. Footsteps plodded down the front porch steps. What if this was his truck and he wanted to drive? She furtively looked around, seeking other avenues of cover. Fingers crossed that the guy just came out for a bit of fresh air or to smoke a cigarette.
Tallulah wrapped her energy tightly around her body, somewhat cloaking her scent—just in case the wolf made an appearance. It was a form of protection for the shadow hunters in seeking and destroying their prey.
Gravel and weeds crunched underfoot. Damn it, the man was headed straight in her direction. Another couple of steps and she was toast.
* * *
Danger.
The smell of human was faint but totally out of place, and Payton’s wolf senses shifted to high alert. The scent teased his brain. He’d smelled it before—recently, too. Who the hell would be out in this remote area at this time of night? Someone up to no good.
No need to call the rest of the pack. Whoever the prowler was, he’d no doubt take off before backup arrived.
Payton unerringly followed his nose. Adrenaline pumped through his veins as he geared up for a fight. Danger had seemingly followed them for hundreds of miles. His fingers twitched at his sides, and he flexed them into his palms, his nails digging into calloused flesh. If he needed to shift to wolf form, so be it.
