Harlequin Nocturne March 2016 Box Set (28 page)

“This will do.”

She couldn't meet his eyes, instead staring at his lean, muscled forearms and large hands as he ripped open a sugar packet and stirred his tea. What would it be like to have his hands touching her all over? A warm flush blossomed on her cheeks, and she gripped her mug with both hands to steady the turmoil Tombi awoke in her body.

Stop it. He can't be trusted
. So far, he had brought nothing but empty promises and disaster.

* * *

Tombi swallowed a mouthful of the astringent tea and struggled to conceal his revulsion. But if it would help strengthen his aching limbs and exhaustion, he'd drink every drop.

Annie regarded him, lips curled sardonically. “That's right, my dearie,” she crooned in a crackly, crone voice. “Drink every last drop or the poison is no good.”

He set the mug down with a bang. “You wouldn't.” A heartbeat. “Would you?”

She folded her arms. “What do you think?”

“You wouldn't.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Don't be so sure about me. After all, you might have got my grandma killed today. Things like that tend to piss people off, you know.”

“It's highly unusual for Nalusa to attack before nightfall. It's as if he were lying in wait for me. As if someone had tipped him off.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” She jumped up, hands gripping the table with white-knuckled anger. “You think I contacted a...a...snake? I never even heard of Nalusa until yesterday.”

“So you say.”

Tombi couldn't let it go. He'd become a jaded man, not by birth disposition, but because of the deaths and trapped spirits he'd witnessed over the past ten years. He and his tribe tried to release all the ensnared souls, but they kept growing in number. Secretly, he despaired there was no stopping Nalusa's increasing spread of misery. How was he supposed to trust this girl—this witch who mysteriously appeared in the dead of night in the swamp and claimed to speak to Bo?

Annie made a disgusted clucking noise and noisily set about tidying the kitchen. “Don't drink the tea, then. Suffer. Means nothing to me.”

She dried some silverware and threw it in a drawer, where it clanged. “If anyone's scared, it should be me.”

“Scared? I'm not scared.” For spirit's sake, he faced creatures of the dark on a daily basis.

She stared pointedly at his half-filled mug and raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

Tombi lifted it to his lips and took another experimental sip. The liquid had cooled considerably. He raised the mug in a salutatory gesture. “To good health.” He downed the whole mess in four gulps.

Great Spirits almighty, that was nasty stuff.

Annie threw the dish towel in the sink and stared at him. “Your skin is starting to get a little pale and clammy,” she noted. “Perspiration's beading on your forehead. You sure you're okay? Maybe I poisoned you after all.”

Tombi lifted his right arm a few inches, then dropped it by his side. He'd almost given her the satisfaction of touching his forehead to check.

“Your jaw is twitching, too.”

“It tends to do that when I'm annoyed.”

“Better annoyed than worried sick like I am.” Annie glanced out the kitchen window, and her body slumped, as if the fight and anger had melted from her spine and left her in a pool of misery.

Damn. He fought the guilt that pestered his gut. He didn't ask that old lady to save him. “Look, Annie, I'm sorry about your grandma.”

She waved a hand dismissively, back still toward him.

“Maybe you should go to the hospital,” he drawled, reluctant to encourage her but compelled to show compassion. Tia Henrietta had saved his life; he owed her.

“She'd kill me. She specifically begged me not to.”

“Did she say why?”

Annie sighed. “She seems to think you are some kind of hero or something.”

“I wish she hadn't taken the poison,” Tombi offered.

She faced him and tilted her head to one side. “Did she say something to you right before the ambulance came? I saw you lean over the couch where she lay.”

He shuffled in his seat and shrugged his shoulders. “She moaned, and I got closer to see if she was trying to talk. But she was mostly incoherent.”

Mostly.

The word and its meaning seemed to slip by Annie. Thank the spirits.

“She has a weak heart. I don't see how she can recover from this.” Her eyes were a reproach.

Tombi frowned, hardening his heart. He couldn't let his resolve to mistrust all strangers end. He had a mission. His people depended on him. Should he fail... No, he couldn't go down that dark corridor of possibility in his mind. Bad enough the worry haunted his dreams.

Her voice rose an octave. “And to top it off, you seem to believe I brought all this on myself and my grandma.”

Tombi pursed his lips. “You could have set a trap, not knowing your grandmother would come swooping in to save me at the last possible second.”

“Of all the ungrateful...” she sputtered. “If not for us, you'd be dead or ate up with fever.”

He paused, struck by the fact that he was ready to return to the hunt, full of vigor. “That tea actually helped,” he let slip in surprise.

“Of course it did. You...you...” Again, she was so angry that words failed. She planted her hands on her hip and glared.

He smiled, and she stepped close to him.

“Stop smirking.” Annie pushed against his chest. She was so small, so petite, the top of her head hit him only chest-high.

Instinctively, he grabbed her arms and pulled her closer into him. She smelled mysterious—like herbs and musk and a touch of some flowery scent that was deliciously, dangerously feminine.

He remembered their kiss. Would she ever want to kiss him again—now that she held him responsible for Tia's illness? Loss and regret swept through him like an errant breeze.

If circumstances were different. If there wasn't so much at stake. If only... But it did no good to wallow in “ifs.” It wasn't as if he'd had any choice in the matter of his destiny and duty. His hands still held her forearms, but they loosened—and she didn't pull away. He hardly dared move for fear of shattering the magic.

The only sound in the room was their joined breathing, hers lighter and more rapid than his. Her chest gently expanded and contracted. And then, oh-so-slowly, they eased their bodies together, and her cheek lay on his chest. Tombi leaned down and rested his chin on the cinnamon warmth of her dark hair.

Outside, the sky darkened. Leaves and moss would begin to rustle in the ancient oaks. Soon, birds of the night would swoop from branch to branch, screeching and spying and reporting back to Nalusa on the hunters' movements.
Ishkitini
, the horned owl, was the most ominous bird of prey, because his screech foretold a sudden death or murder. Will-o'-the-wisps would glow and skitter about with the energy of the trapped deceased.

The windowpane's reflection captured their joined silhouette like a flickering trick of the eye. Nebulous and passing, a fragile thing of impermanence. Tombi closed his eyes and stroked her arms. They were as soft and slender as a robin's wing.

The phone rang, and she jerked and wiggled out of his embrace, returning to the table to pick up her cell phone.

“How is she?” Annie asked, face set in tense worry. “Uh-huh. That's good...right?”

Reassured the call wasn't death news, Tombi let himself out the front door and stood on the porch. She'd appreciate her privacy. The heat and the night pressed down on him, cloying and heavy.

He had to return to the others. His duty was clear. Somehow, he must convince Annie to come with him. This cottage wasn't safe for a young woman alone. She'd been lured once by a will-o'-the-wisp. It could happen again. Their call was almost impossible to ignore.

And then there were Tia Henrietta's words.
Annie is your destiny
.
Without her, you fail
. And as he'd started to straighten, the old woman's hand had gripped his with surprising strength.
Take care of my granddaughter.

Destiny? Destiny be damned. It was enough that the gods had placed this duty on him, this infernal battle with Nalusa and his shadows. No doubt Annie could prove useful with her extraordinary hearing. But that tiny woman wasn't a key to battling evil. She didn't stand a chance against dark forces she'd never before encountered.
If
she was an innocent, he reminded himself grimly. And as far as taking care of Annie...wasn't it enough that his fellow hunters depended on him as their leader? He didn't need another burden.

The door creaked open, and she stood beside him.

“How's your grandmother?”

“Miss Verbena says her vital signs are stabilized, but she's in a coma.”

He tried to find comforting words. “Her brain just needs a rest while she battles the poison.”

“I don't like it.” Her voice was small, weak.

He should say something sweet, something comforting. But he didn't know how. Even his twin, Tallulah, wasn't much good at sweet-talking. If Hanan were here, he would know. His friend was always quick with the comebacks and the right, appropriate thing to say. A real asset in his job as the county sheriff. Tombi stiffened, feeling awkward. “Come with me. Stay with my people.”

She shot him a sideways glance. “Why?”

“So you can help us.”

She sniffed and turned for the door.

He'd said the wrong thing.

“And because we could use your gift. We...apparently, need you.”

“Well, I don't need you. Grandma made me promise not to go to the hospital, but she can't make me leave this house. I'm staying here in case Miss Verbena calls with more news.”

“You can take your phone with you.”

“Coverage is spotty in the woods. I can't chance it.”

“But even if there's news, good or bad, there's nothing you can do,” he pointed out.

She gave him a look that would surely curdle even Nalusa's milky venom. “I want to know everything the moment it happens.” Her words were slow and deliberate, as if she were talking to a not-so-bright child.

An unexpected warmth flushed Tombi's cheeks at her condescending tone. He scowled to cover his embarrassment. Time to show his ace in the hole. “Your grandmother asked me to take care of you.”

“When?” Her eyes narrowed to suspicious slits.

“That time you saw me bending over her before the ambulance came.”

“You said she was incoherent.”

“I was trying to save your pride.”

They glared at one another. In the distance, an owl screeched. A bad sign.

Very bad.

CHAPTER 5

A
nnie shivered, breaking the tension. “That owl sounds creepy.”

“Ishkitini,”
Tombi grumbled. No good ever came of the horned owl's cry. It often foretold death. But no sense troubling Annie with that information. She'd assume it was an omen about her grandmother, and then she'd never agree to go with him. Plus, he had to admit, he didn't want to upset Annie.

“A dangerous night to be alone. You'd be safer on the hunt with me,” he said.

Her eyes shifted to the woods and back to him.

She was weakening.

“Besides, you shouldn't be here alone tonight worrying about your grandmother. Go on the hunt with us. It will take your mind off your problems.”

“Why should I go? It's obvious your friends don't want me around. At least at home, I won't be insulted.”

Damn Tallulah and the others for their hostility. It had been a mistake to tell them he'd brought Annie to possibly find a traitor. Nobody appreciated a messenger with bad news. “You'll be by my side during the hunt,” Tombi promised. “The others follow their own path in the night darkness.”

She glanced over to the woods again. “I have to admit I'm curious about your hunt.” Her eyes met his. “Does what you do involve anything gruesome? You know, like, bloody stuff?”

“Not usually.”

“Good.” She pinned him with a hard look. “And in return for going tonight, you'll teach me how to control my hearing?”

“For one night's work?” The words tumbled out, unfiltered. Oh, hell. By the look on her face, he'd lost any chance of getting her cooperation.

Annie marched back into the cottage, slamming the door shut.

He opened it and followed her inside. At least she hadn't locked him out. “How about this? Spend time with us, and let me know if you have suspicions about anyone. In return, I'll teach you what I can.”

Anger twisted her delicate features. “Teach me? I didn't think I'd need lessons.”

“How else did you expect to learn to control your gift?”

“I thought... I thought...” She sputtered to a stop.

“I never said it would be easy.”

“You never said it would be hard, either.” She rubbed her temples. “Just how long will these lessons take?”

“Hard to say.” He folded his arms and considered. “Could take weeks, could take months. That is, if you can follow my teachings. Not everyone can control their energy.”

Annie sat on the sofa and took a deep breath. “Okay, there are a couple of things troubling me about what you just said.” She held up an index finger. “One, your people can guard against leaking their energy, making it difficult for me to hear their auras. So I can't guarantee I'll be able to pinpoint this person.”

She held up a second finger, but Tombi interrupted, “Let me take your objections one at a time.” He sat across from Annie, their knees almost touching. Warmth radiated from her slight body, and he clamped down the passion she aroused as he cleared his throat. “After a night chasing shadows, we gather back at the campsite and fill each other in on the night's events. We'll eat a light meal and then go to our tents and sleep until the heat of the day drives us out. Usually about noon.”

“I don't see what this has to do with—”

“I'm getting to that,” Tombi promised. “Stay alert while they sleep and walk around the camp. See if you hear anything suspicious then.”

Her brow creased and then cleared. She nodded. “They must let down their guard during sleep.”

“Exactly. Now what's your next objection?”

“You said you would teach me
what you could
. What the hell does that mean exactly? First you claimed you could cure me of this gift. Now it sounds like you're waffling.”

“No waffling.”

“Then are you saying I'm unteachable? I can assure you, that's not true. Not at all. There's nothing wrong with my intelligence.”

Tombi raised a brow and regarded her silently.

She had the grace to look sheepish. “Sorry. Touchy point with me. I was teased unmercifully in grade school because I had to be taught in a separate room one-on-one with a teacher's aide. The music from all the other students made it impossible for me to concentrate in a regular classroom.” She took a shuddering breath. “They used to call me Crazy Annie.”

That must have been tough for a sensitive girl. “Kids can be cruel. I promise I wasn't making a comment on your intelligence. What I meant was that I'll show you how I block my energy. It's a skill my parents taught me, so it stands to reason that, with the right training, you can do the same.”

A wistful sadness shadowed her eyes.

“You don't think you can do it?” he asked gently.

She bit her lip. “Oh, it's silly. But what I was really hoping is that you'd arrange for a shaman to remove it. You know, something quick and easy.”

He fixed her with a hard stare.

Annie flushed. “I know. That's awful of me. I just want to get on with my life.”

“Meaning what? What would you do without your special hearing ability that you can't do now?” Annie was hard to understand. He could control his senses to some degree, yet it didn't change who he was, or his purpose in life.

She threw up her hands. “You can't laugh.”

At his steady wait, Annie admitted, “I want to be a librarian.”

“Then do it.” He shrugged. “Now. No one's stopping you.”

“Even in a library, the noise gets to be too much after a while. There's more peace and quiet there than any other public place, but it still grates. I can't see me working as a librarian forty hours a week.”

Annie stood and walked around the small den, picking up stray items and straightening stacks of books and magazines. “And it's more than wanting to work a full-time job. I'd like to have friends, a family, a social life.”

“The music is that disruptive for you?” It might be hell for Annie, but this extraordinary ability could only be good for his hunters. And he would try to help her control her gift.

Eventually.

Once he'd gotten all he could from her. Duty first, always.

For the first time in days, a surge of hope fueled a fire within him. “Then what do you have to lose by helping me?” he asked. “I'll make sure no harm comes to you.”

She carefully placed a book back down on a coffee table. “I really, really, really hate snakes,” she said, dead serious. “So you'd better protect me like you promised.”

“I will,” he vowed. “With my life.” This he could say with no guilt or deception.

Annie picked up a picture of her grandma and bent her head over it. Her long, wavy hair covered her face, but her shoulders shook, and he knew she wept. Surprisingly, it made him long to put his arms around her and kiss away her tears. He hardened his heart—this wouldn't do at all.

“It's what your grandma wanted, too,” he reminded her, pushing Annie to make a commitment.

She nodded, slowly putting down the picture. “I'm ready.”

He tamped down a satisfied smile. What the hell was wrong with him? Her grandmother was probably dying. A familiar fear flickered along his nerves. He was turning into the shadows he hunted, losing his humanity and compassion.

“Should I bring anything?” she asked.

“No, I have all the provisions we'll need.”

She set about blowing out the scattered candles flickering in the room, grief making each act seem like a small goodbye.

“You'll be back tomorrow afternoon,” he said.

“I wonder when—or if—Grandma Tia will ever come back. This place may not be much, but she loved it.”

He considered his surroundings more carefully. The worn furniture, the framed pictures, saint paintings and jars full of wildflowers strewn everywhere. It was an unexpected blow to his heart, reminding him of a similar modest place filled with colorful wool rugs and books and carved statues his father had whittled. A home that always smelled faintly of corn bread and wood shavings. A place swept away by Hurricane Katrina, along with a peace he never expected to find again.

“It's her home. Your home,” he said simply.

“Yes. I only lived here during the summers, but it felt like my true home. The one place where I was wanted.” Annie cleared her throat and set her shoulders back. “Let's go.”

She didn't need to tell him a third time. “Okay. I'll wait for you outside.”

He left, sensing she needed to collect her emotions before leaving. Night had come once again, bringing with it danger and whispers in the wind. But it was also beautiful in its own dark, mysterious way. The full moon shone bloodred, and the tall trees stood like sinister sentinels of doom.

Annie popped her head out the door. “Do we need flashlights?”

“Not necessary.”

She gave him a quizzical look as she shut the door and locked up. “How about you explain a few things to me before we get to the campsite?” She pocketed her keys in a small, crocheted purse and joined him.

“What questions do you have?” he asked reluctantly. Tombi set off in long strides toward the trail. Normally, he evaded questions from outsiders, but Annie would be part of the hunt tonight, and she had a right to ask.

“For starters, how do you see so well in the dark? And slow down before I trip on a tree root or run into a tree.”

He slowed. “Sorry. I'm not used to being with an outsider.”

“I'm always an outsider,” she mumbled.

“No offense. It's just a word we use for those not of our nation.” He took hold of her hand. “It will be safer this way.”

To hell with that. It was electric. He guessed from Annie's sharp inhale that she felt the same current buzzing through her body. He forced himself to focus on the path. This was no time to indulge in lustful distractions. Mistakes out here got a man killed.

“Lesson one. I have unnatural night vision, as do the rest of the hunters. It's how we were first identified by our ancestors. And since all natural gifts have a purpose—” he squeezed her hand “—they soon found why. It was one of the gifts from the spirits for us to fight and protect ourselves from the evil ones.”

Annie snorted. “I don't believe all so-called gifts are for a reason. Sometimes things just are. Like genetic mutations. And why does evil exist in the first place? The spirits didn't have to allow Nalusa power.”

“Why does your God allow the devil to live?” he countered. “It's impossible to question such things. We have to deal with what is instead of trying to pry into the intelligence of our creators.”

“You have a point,” she admitted grudgingly. “But go on—what other abilities do you have as a shadow hunter?”

He continued, glad Annie's questions seemed to keep her distracted from her anger against him. “As you guessed, we can control our energies. Which usually means creatures don't sense us until we are very close.”

She stumbled slightly, and he steadied her. “I can see how that's useful. What powers do your enemies have?”

His enemies. Tombi searched the gathering twilight. “They can't sense energy as well as we can, but they have their own elements of surprise. Nalusa can shape-shift to other forms. You saw him as a snake.”

Her tiny hand trembled in his own.

“Sometimes he appears as a tall, dark being with small eyes and pointed ears. And there are the will-o'-the-wisps he controls. They can take you alive or steal a soul that's not yet crossed over to the land of the dead.”

“But why? What does he gain?”

“Evil doesn't always need a reason to exist. It's the nature of the universe, the duality of our world. But in Nalusa's case, any kind of death or destruction, any human suffering, contributes to his power. He feeds off our misery.”

“He sounds like the very devil,” she whispered. “Sorry, but I hope we don't run into him tonight.” Annie shivered but continued to pick her way through the woods with his guidance, carefully stepping forward and trying to avoid the large, gnarly tree roots that erupted from the soil.

Even with his heightened senses, Tombi's night vision was limited. He could see enough to break the dark into lighter and darker shadows and to be sensitive, like a cat, to any kind of movement, even from a considerable distance.

They would arrive at camp in minutes. Would she find any of his people were really betrayers, working against them and for the dark side? That was the worst part of the shadow world; they could insidiously invade your mind and heart. You had to be constantly on guard against their influence.

“What, exactly, do you do when you find Nalusa or a wisp?” Annie asked, breaking his melancholy thoughts.

“I'll tell you when we get to camp. It's not wise to speak of such things out here in the woods.”

Her eyes darted around the path, as if expecting Nalusa to grab her any second, but she kept moving forward.

He silently kept watch over her as she stumbled along, wondering at her story. He couldn't afford to discount Annie's claim of speaking with Bo. His friend—so powerful and so close to the tribe—might have found a way to do what no other trapped soul had done before: break through a wisp's barrier and speak a warning.

That was, if Annie wasn't lying, if she wasn't under any shadow influence. There was no way to judge. He'd observe her closely for any inconsistencies or suspicious moves.

Because that was the worst power his enemy possessed, the most dangerous. He could rot your soul on the inside, could find purchase in the flimsiest of your sins and make them into something larger, until they became a wicked cancer that contaminated your mind. All the while, on the outside, your friends and family couldn't tell the invisible transformation beneath skin and bones.

The worst evil was the one that lived in your own heart, waiting to be fed and exploited by the shadows.