Читать книгу Bayou Shadow Hunter - Debbie Herbert - Страница 10
ОглавлениеWhat had she gotten herself into? She wanted a normal life, but what good was that if she was killed in the process? But she had to try. She had to trust that Tombi would protect her.
Grandma Tia had been no help, and no matter how many spells and strips of paper she burned under the full moon, nothing changed. If anything, her hearing grew stronger, more disruptive.
Tombi nodded. “Great. We begin now.”
Hope bubbled through her like uncorked champagne on New Year’s Eve. She was about to start a new life. Do all those things she’d longed to do: get a real job, be around people and relate normally. Simple acts most people took for granted.
He turned and beckoned her to follow.
“Where are we going?” she asked happily. No waiting for the full moon this time. Hope had arisen right here in the midafternoon sunshine. “Is there a special place for a spell? Like an energy vortex or something?” She hurried along the path.
He shot an incredulous look over his shoulder. “What are you babbling about?”
“I’m curious how you’re going to do this. I think Grandma Tia never helped me because she didn’t know how, though she would never admit it.”
“We aren’t casting any spells.”
“Are you taking me to a special healer, then? Like a shaman?”
He sighed loudly and planted his feet so abruptly she plowed into his back.
He turned and steadied her. “We’re going to my camp, so you can meet the other hunters. I want to know who that betrayer is. If there is one.”
Annie’s eyes narrowed. “So, you won’t help me until I help you first.”
“That’s right.”
Worry quickly overcame her frustration. “But what if I can’t pick up anything from them?”
“You will,” he said confidently. “I’m the best in the group at controlling my energy, yet you picked up the drumming.”
“But it was only a drumming sound. Nothing good or bad about it,” she protested.
“True, but it picked up something of my nature. A primitive beat passed down through my ancestry.”
“Don’t get your hopes up,” she muttered, picking her way carefully through the prickly saw palmettos and dense underbrush. Tombi kept a slower pace today, albeit still a brisk one. “Tell me about these other hunters.”
The more she knew going in, the less nervous she would be. Annie hated meeting new people, especially in a group situation where each aura would jumble with the others into a confusing din.
“We’re down to four in the inner circle since Bo died. Me, Chulah, Hanan and my sister, Tallulah.”
“So, what is it you actually do? How do you fight Nalusa and his shadow spirits?”
Tombi didn’t answer right away. “It’s something you would have to see and be a part of to really understand.”
Meaning he didn’t want to say any more on the subject. Great. Fine by her. The less she knew, the fewer nightmares she’d dream. She’d help him find the betrayer, and he’d help her control hearing auras. Then she could have the normal life she craved, and he could...maybe win his battle. Get revenge for his friend’s death. They could both move on.
They continued until the path widened, and she spotted over two dozen tents pitched in a field. They were arranged in a circle, and in the middle of it all was a thin stream of smoke that wafted upward from a modest fire. The acrid smell of burning oak stirred her with a sense of home and cozy evenings warming by the fireplace.
“You all must be great friends,” she said, picturing them telling stories in the evening by campfire, sharing a bond of fighting evil. They were all part of something bigger than themselves. For a moment, it made her own dream seem small and selfish.
And he wanted her to come into this...this tight group of friends and point the finger at one of them? Annie rubbed the unexpected chill on her arms. She wasn’t sure what she feared most: being unable to recognize the betrayer, or singling out someone and facing their collective wrath.
Nobody would thank her for disrupting their alliance, that was for sure. She peeked at Tombi’s stern profile, took in his long, slightly hooked nose, pronounced jaws and cheekbones, and heavy brows. What was his role in this band of hunters?
“Your name’s unusual. What does it mean?” she asked abruptly, hoping to learn more about him.
“Ray of light.”
Annie snorted, and he raised a brow. “What?”
She couldn’t help but giggle. “You’re no ray of sunshine.”
He stared at her blankly before a rusty rumble of laughter escaped his mouth, as if it had been years since one last escaped. “At one time, my people worshiped the sun, so to be named after its ray is a great honor.”
“What about your friend Bo? Is that a good ole Southern name as in B-e-a-u, short for Beauregard?”
“No. It’s B-o, short for Bohpoli. That’s Choctaw for ‘thrower.’”
Would she ever hear Bo again? She shivered, remembering his plaintive pleas for help.
Although their movements were quiet and their voices low, they had attracted attention. A woman and three men solemnly filed out of the tent circle and stood in the center, awaiting their approach with unsmiling faces.
Holy hoodoo, this was going to be even tougher than she imagined.
Annie tugged the back of Tombi’s T-shirt, and he frowned down at her. “What?”
“Have you told them anything about me?”
“We tell each other everything.”
She groaned. “Terrific. Bet they can’t wait to meet me. I wish you hadn’t told them.”
“There should be no secrets among my hunters. No doubts or suspicions about the man—or woman—you have to depend on for your life.”
Her shoulders slumped. She couldn’t argue with his logic, although she resented the situation he’d put her in. They walked onward several minutes, not speaking.
Tombi abruptly halted and frowned her way. “You care so much what others think?”
“Of course I care.” She thought of all the times people had skirted around her in school hallways or outright laughed in her face. She’d watched from the sidelines in the purgatory that was high school, unsure which she craved more—the huddling conspiracy of a group of girlfriends to share secrets and fun times with, or some cute guy to take her to dinner and a movie and whisper sweet seductions in the back of a car. “Everyone cares.”
He shrugged. “Not me.”
Easy for him to say—with his looks he probably had any woman he wanted. And he had a tribe of like-minded friends and family. Why should he give any thought to what was so easily granted to him?
Annie reluctantly walked beside him, trying to emulate his mask of calm. They came to a halt six feet in front of the group.
“This is Annie Matthews.” Tombi gestured to the left with his hand. “This is Tallulah, Hanan and Chula.”
The silence roared in her, air compressing and as stifling as a sealed coffin. They formed a firewall of mistrust and resentment, shutting her out of their circle. Annie sucked in her breath at the glittering hostility in Tallulah’s obsidian eyes. Nearly as tall as her brother, she bore the same long face, chiseled features and strong chin. It shouldn’t have worked for a female, and while she wasn’t beautiful in a Miss America or girl-next-door kind of way, Tallulah was striking and commanded attention. Annie barely took in the stoic features of the other three men.
Tallulah put her hands on her hips. “Well?”
“W-well what?” Annie stammered. She glanced at Tombi in a silent plea for help.
“Go ahead,” Tallulah challenged. “I dare you to point a finger at any one of us. You don’t know—”
“Enough,” Tombi cut in.
The man next to her—Chula—lightly touched Tallulah’s forearm, and a whisper as tender as a lullaby brushed over Annie at the gesture.
“We already debated this last night and agreed to meet Annie. Let’s get this over with.” Hanan pinned Annie with a hard stare, and the whisper of sound vanished. “The sooner, the better.”
Annie swallowed hard at their collective stare. Talk about being on the spot.
“It’s not that easy. I have to be around you for a bit.” She cast another look at Tombi. “Can we all sit together by the fire?”
Tombi nodded, and she followed him to the middle of the pitched tents, the others following in silence behind them.
In the center was a stack of firewood coated in ash. Colorful wool blankets were spread in a circle around the campfire. They each went to a blanket and sat, except Tombi. “You can have my blanket,” he said, pointing to one. “I’ll stand.”
She sank down and crossed her feet beneath her. Annie tried to relax and open her senses, but it was difficult as the others stared at her expectantly. As if she was some kind of circus performer. She closed her eyes, more to shut out their stares than out of necessity.
The unnatural quiet unnerved her. How did they do it? They each had some type of guard up, some way of blocking their music. Her palms gripped her knees. Very well. She’d try to wait them out, see if any sound escaped.
The vibrations of a deep rumbling laugh iced down her spine. Witch. The word was an accusation, underlain with mirth. Be gone, little girl.
Annie opened her eyes and met their curious, blank stares. “Did you hear that laugh? That voice?”
No one spoke.
Tombi uncrossed his arms and sat beside her on the blanket. “What did you hear?”
She bit her lip. Had the laugh and the words come from one of the hunters, or was there something else out there? Something just beyond the ring of trees and the safety of the fire where shadows lengthened and danced?
Annie shook her head slightly and closed her eyes again. Silence blanketed her as thick and unrelenting as a stone wall. It was hopeless. Nothing else was coming through that wall.
She opened her eyes. “I don’t know how y’all do it, but I’m impressed.”
“Do what?” Chula asked.
“Close off your energy.” Annie turned to Tombi. “Isn’t that how you described it? Keeping everything closed in?”
Tallulah made an impatient tsk sound. “Why did you tell this girl our secrets? For all we know, she could be one of them.”
“One of who?” Annie asked.
“Don’t act so innocent,” Tallulah snapped. “If there’s someone controlled by the dark side, my guess is that it’s you.”
Annie rose to her feet and took in their hostile stares. “I didn’t have to tell Tombi what I heard last night. I didn’t ask Bo to seek me out. And I certainly don’t have to take your attitude.”
She stalked off. Screw them. She’d tried. Not her fault if they had some special power to resist her hearing.
Dry grass crunched in the parched soil behind her. Tombi stepped to her side and walked, matching her pace.
“I’m not going back there,” she spat, “so don’t try to talk me into it.”
He said nothing but walked in front of her as they reentered the narrow path. He held back branches to keep them from slapping her in the face. A snapping, crackling sound simmered in the air swirling around him, like dry brush catching fire.
“You’re angry with me,” Annie said. “I really did try. But your sister...” She tried to collect her temper. She still needed his help and insulting Tallulah wouldn’t serve her cause. “You are going to help me. Right?”
* * *
She looked desperate, but Tombi hardened his heart. He wasn’t about to give up. Not as long as Bo was trapped and not as long as Nalusa and the other shadow spirits grew and trespassed the ancient boundaries.
“Eventually,” he promised. “What did you hear back there?”
“Nothing that can help you.”
Tombi stopped in his tracks and folded his arms against his chest. “Might as well spit it out. I’ll be out in these woods through the night anyhow.”
“Do you live out here all the time?”
“Only one week out of the month, around the full moon.”
Her dark eyes widened. “We believe in the power of the full moon, too.”
“We?”
“My grandmother and I.” She swallowed. “And others like us.”
“Other witches?”
“Why must you put labels on people?” she countered. “We’re known by many names, and we all have different practices—root workers, healers, pagans and, okay, witches.”
“Do they all hear as you do?”
Her full lips twisted in a scowl. “No. I’m the lucky one.”
Tombi shook off his fascination with Annie and her kind. “You neatly skirted my question. What did you hear back there?”
She sighed, realizing he would interrogate until she answered his question. “A laugh. Not a funny one, but the laugh of the evil or crazy or demented. And then...the voice called me a witch and told me to go away.”
Tombi considered her words. He hated knowing Nalusa knew of Annie and her gift and their connection, but Nalusa must be worried to warn her off. That was, if Annie wasn’t in league with him to start with.
“So, just like that, you’re giving up?”
She winced at the sharp edge of his tone. “The attitude of your sister and your friends didn’t make me want to stay and try harder.”
He grew hot thinking of Tallulah’s antagonism. Annie didn’t deserve to be treated that way. Even if he had his own suspicions, nothing would be gained by hostility.
“They can’t help but be suspicious of strangers. Time and again, Nalusa has gained a foothold over people, even if only temporarily. Made them say and do things they wouldn’t normally do.”
Annie lifted her chin. “I can assure you that I’m in complete command of my own thoughts and actions.”
“I’ll help you, but you have to help me, too.”
“Can’t you just say some words and cure me?”
“Nothing’s that easy. It’s a process. It takes time to learn to control your energy.”
“You say you don’t trust me. That goes two ways. I think you’re dragging out everything to suit your own purposes.”
“You’ve barely spent five minutes among us. You’ll have to gain their trust.”
“Or catch them unawares,” she muttered.
“That would be hard to do. Our hearing may not be as sharp as yours. But we can sense energy before it senses us.”
“You have to sleep sometime.”
Of course. He should have realized. Tombi laid a hand on her thin shoulder, noticing his palm engulfed the side of her neck and curve of her shoulder. “Come meet us tonight. Hunt with us and spend the night.”
Her eyebrows drew up. “Spend the night with you in your tent?”
An image of Annie, naked and curled up beside him, flushed his body with desire. “I can spring for a new tent and sleeping bag,” he said past the dryness at the back of his throat.
“I’ll think—” She came to a dead halt and tilted her head to the side, listening to a faint sound.
“Wh—”
She raised a finger to her lips to silence him. Her forehead wrinkled, and her eyes grew distant. Suddenly, Annie grabbed his arm and looked around wildly. “Let’s run!”
And then he sensed it, too. Dread enveloped him like a heavy blanket. The metallic scent of blood and a whisper of decay could alone mean only one thing. Nalusa was near.
Very near. Within striking range.
Not now. Not with Annie so close. “Go without me,” he urged.
She stood still, as if paralyzed, staring at him with brown eyes full of fear. “But what about you?”
“I can take care of myself.” He drew out the dagger from his side. “Go!”
She hesitated.
A rustling whipped through the underbrush, unnaturally loud, drowning out birds and insects and the rumble of the sea. A sibilant hiss sent a tingle across the skin of his back and arms. Another second and Nalusa would be upon them. Tombi looked over his shoulder and pointed at Annie with his dagger. “I said, go!”
Her dark eyes were like a well of smooth, black water. And in those pupils Tombi saw a triangular head arise, a long forked tongue slithering from its mouth. The snake’s copper eyes appeared to hold Annie entranced. The Medusa of the bayou.
If Bo were still alive and with him, he’d throw a dagger accurate enough to strike the snake in between the eyes. Tombi didn’t trust his aim to be as accurate. He needed to be a little closer. He slowly turned to directly face Nalusa, his body a shield to protect Annie behind him. Nalusa coiled his long snake form in upon itself, his muscles rippling beneath the gray-and-brown patchwork of scales.
The striking position. His tail rose up with its rings of rattles and shook. The sound was as loud as a tumbling steel barrel full of iron pellets.
Tombi deliberately stepped toward Nalusa, every nerve flooded with adrenaline. Warring instincts battled inside. His muscles twitched to take action, to strike the enemy, yet his mind urged caution. One miscalculation and his tribe would be further reduced and without its leader.
They were within a few feet of one another. Striking distance. Tombi willed Annie to leave, but he sensed her presence behind him.
Why hadn’t she run? His jaw tightened. It could be the two were in league together. She drew him to just the right place at the right time. Tombi shrugged off the disquieting notion, trying to stay focused. If he lived, he would have his answer. If he didn’t...the other hunters would guess at her treachery and the trap she had plotted.
But no matter. The death match was on. He had to kill this monster before Nalusa crept past his boundaries, past the deep swamp where his ancestors had bound him many years ago. Hurricane Katrina had unleashed something; her destruction and the resulting chaos in the Deep South had made it possible for Nalusa to escape his chains and increase his power.
Now he seemed ready to inflict his evil upon the world.
Now he must die.
Tombi lunged forward, aiming for the eyes. His dagger sank into the thick, muscular skin of the snake, under its throat. It was as if he could feel the pain in his own body. A bolt of agony exploded a few inches under his collarbone, a needle sharpness that quickly radiated toward his chest, as if he’d been injected with poison.
Bitten. He’d been bitten. Moaning rent the space between man and beast, and Tombi couldn’t say if it was his own or Nalusa’s. Blood poured from the snake’s throat where Tombi’s silver dagger had sunk in deep. Its black tongue whipped out, ready to strike again.
Tiny white grains and bits of dirt rained down on Nalusa’s coiled body, and he jerked backward, eyes fixed somewhere past Tombi’s shoulder. What was happening?
Tombi took advantage of the distraction and scrambled to his knees, but pain exploded everywhere, and his vision filled with tiny black dots. His limbs felt numb and paralyzed, and with every breath the pain spread farther, deeper. He collapsed on the hard ground. I’m joining you, Bo.
The image of his parents arose as he last saw them. His father whittling his latest sculpture, his mom shucking corn. All that work, and the sculpture was taken out by the tide, by that bitch of a hurricane, Katrina.
I tried. I failed. You win, Nalusa. He could do no more.
* * *
Annie ran across the field to their cottage. Ran until her lungs burned and her chest heaved like fireplace billows. And still there wasn’t enough oxygen to fuel her body’s race against time. Don’t die don’t die please don’t die. She’d flung the salt and consecrated earth from her mojo bag at the attacker, but it may have been too little, too late.
Tombi’s unconscious body, sprawled in the red clay dirt, was as clear to her as the door to the cottage. She couldn’t, wouldn’t think of that—thing, not a snake and not a man. The snake form had dissolved into a thin, tall column of a creature howling with pain. Tombi’s dagger had dislodged, and the creature retreated to the darkness of the woods from which it had come.
But not Tombi. She’d felt his pulse, saw the slight rise and fall of his chest. So fragile.
The door opened, and Grandma Tia descended the steps, carrying the large straw bag that held her roots and herbs for her healing home visitations.
“Hurry.” Annie tried to scream, but her voice was only a puff, as light as dandelion seeds that scattered in the briny breeze.
Tia hustled over with a speed and agility Annie hadn’t observed in her for years.
“Where is he?” she asked without preamble.
Annie hastily removed the shoulder strap from her grandma’s bag and hoisted it over her own shoulders. “This way. He’s been bitten, Grandma.” She felt six years old again and seeking her grandma’s comfort after other kids made fun of her. She still needed her assurance and knowledge, wanted her grandma to tell her everything was going to be okay.
“Ole devil snake got ’em, eh?” They were only midway through the field, but Tia’s breathing was already labored.
“Your heart,” Annie said, drawing burning air into oxygen-starved lungs. She laid a hand on Tia’s shoulder. “Tell me what to do, and you can stay here.”
“Ain’t goin’ be that easy,” Tia huffed. “Gonna take both of us to set this right.” She nodded at the trail. “Best keep on. Sooner I start workin’, better chance he lives.”
They hurried on, and Annie resumed her frantic litany. Don’t die don’t die don’t die.
There. His body lay in the same spot. Annie laid his head in her lap and swept his long hair out of his eyes. Only a supernatural force could have felled such a strong man. Such a warrior. His bronze skin stretched tightly across lean, compact muscles. She wondered what had drawn him into this fight with evil, what ancient curse haunted him and his people.
Grandma Tia began humming and chanting, calling upon her Jesus and the holy saints as she pulled out herbs and protection wards from the bag—graveyard dirt, hollowed-out dirt-dauber nests, chopped swamp-alder root, strings of Dixie John root, and other bits and pieces of unidentifiable objects.
“I call on thee, archangels most high,” Tia said in her firmest voice. “I call on thee, King Solomon, and thou keys of wisdom, and I call on thee, Moses, for thy power and faith. By the spirit of the Great Black Hawk, I summon thee.”
Annie kept her eyes fixed on Tombi’s swollen chest with its mottled skin as her grandmother continued her petitions. It could have been ten seconds or ten minutes later—Annie couldn’t say—but Tia stopped and turned grave eyes on her.
“It ain’t working.”
Annie’s fingers sank tighter into Tombi’s shoulder, and she squeezed, willing him to fight. “You can’t quit. Keep going.”
Tia drew a long, unsteady breath. “Ain’t but one thing left to do.” She unpacked a poultice, laid her hand directly over the open wound and prayed, then placed the poultice on the broken skin.
Annie gulped. “Aren’t you worried about infection?”
“We way past that point, child. Now I need you to help me. We goin’ to draw that poison out of his body and into mine.”
“But—we can’t. What will the poison do to you? Your heart—”
Tia held up a hand, face stern. “My time on this here earth is almost up anyhows. We gots to try. Now. What I want you to do is find that gris-gris bag full of wormwood in my bag and sprinkle it all around us.”
Annie hastily rummaged in the purse, pulled out a black satin drawstring pouch and held it to her nose. A pungent, bitter smell tickled her nostrils. “Is this the one?”
“That’s it. Now you get to work and recite parts of Psalm 91. And don’t interrupt me, no matter what. You hear me?”
Her upbringing left her no choice but to respond properly to the authority in that voice. “Yes, ma’am.”
Tia’s eyes softened, and the rigid set of her face melted. “You always been a good girl,” she said. “My shining star with the gift. You hear music where the rest of us hear silence.” She turned abruptly away. “Now get to work like I taught you.”
It felt like a farewell.
Surely not. Grandma Tia was no voodoo hack. She was the real deal. Knew things, sensed things, felt things.
Annie circled around them, a few feet out, crumbling bits of wormwood petals and letting them fall onto her path. The words of the psalm were ingrained since childhood.
“Thou shalt not be afraid for the terror by night, nor for the arrow that flieth by day, nor for the pestilence that walketh in darkness, nor for the destruction that wasteth at noonday.”
Heat singed upward from below where her grandmother knelt beside Tombi’s body that was sprawled on the hard ground. The sweltering air battered Annie’s temples with headache. The wormwood’s bitter, camphoraceous scent deepened, and her fingers tingled with numbness—some toxic effect of the herb intensified by the spell. A golden light flowed between Tombi’s chest and her grandma’s hand.
Annie stopped her recitation, mesmerized by the etheric glow.
Tia cast her a sharp glance. “Don’t stop.”
She cleared her throat and continued circling. “No evil shall befall thee, neither shall any plague come nigh thy dwelling. For he shall give his angels care. They shalt tread upon the lion and adder.”
The swelling and redness of his skin decreased. Tombi stirred and wet his lips. A low moan escaped.
“It’s working,” Annie exclaimed, wanting to tap-dance around the sacred circle. The golden, healing energy had wrought a remarkable change. There was still some swelling, but the angry red streaks of infection had disappeared. “You did it, Grandma—” She stopped abruptly.
Tia’s olive skin had grayed and wrinkled even more, to the point it resembled elephant skin. Her eyes held an unhealthy glaze, as if she were burning with a fever.
Annie sank on her knees and hugged her grandma. “Don’t leave me,” she begged. “Tell me how to help you.”
A laugh so faint that even she couldn’t hear it—it could only be felt from the rumbling of Tia’s chest and throat. “It’s all in the good Lord’s hands now, child.”
Annie burrowed her head in her grandma’s gray hair with its witchy, herbal smell. The smell of home and safety and love. Her grounding force in this world.
“I’m going to get help,” she promised, mind whirling with the action she needed to take: get up, run to the cottage, find her cell phone and car keys. Call the ambulance, drive through the field, manage to get these two in the car and drive them to the cottage for the ambulance to transport them to the hospital.
Once at the hospital, the doctors would demand to know what happened...
“Hey,” Tombi asked with a note of hoarse puzzlement. “What’s going on here?”
A frisson of resentment washed over Annie. This had been his fight. Not hers. And certainly not her grandma’s. If she’d never met him, her grandma wouldn’t be hovering at death’s portal for the afterlife.
She’d sacrificed her own safety and, worse, her grandma’s health. All for a promise. One that Tombi didn’t seem in any hurry to fill.
“My grandma absorbed the poison meant for you,” she said, hot tears scalding her cheeks. “I wish I’d never met you.”
