Bayou Shadow Protector. Debbie Herbert
“I need to get home and sleep. Long day tomorrow at work.”
Chulah followed suit. “Sorry,” he mumbled. “I’ll mark that tree next time.”
“No problem.”
They walked the pine-cushioned path in silence, heading back to Chulah’s cabin. He pondered the mysterious April, resolving to see her tomorrow.
If she even remained in the bayou.
* * *
Foolish humans.
It hurt April’s feelings that Chulah had immediately called his friend to hunt her down. Not that they knew it was her, but still...it rankled.
She followed them from a safe distance as they left the woods. April had been extra careful and alert, making sure to create an illusion so they wouldn’t find the fairy portal tree.
So Chulah and his friends wanted to check her out? She’d keep Steven close by her side to deflect any hard questions so that she wasn’t forced to say anything until Chulah was in love with her. The original plan was that once he was, she’d tell him she was a Fae ambassador on a mission to get the shadow hunters’ help to fight Hoklonote and save the Fae realm.
And hope he’d buy it without asking too many questions. Although that appeared highly unlikely now.
She heard the Ishkitini before they did. And where the birds of the night cried, will-o’-the-wisps were sure to follow. April picked up a couple of sticks and threw them ahead on their path, alerting the hunters to danger.
“What was that?” Chulah stopped and searched the woods.
A slow smile played on Tombi’s mouth. “Kowi anuskasha. The forest dwellers.”
The Choctaw word for her kind wasn’t entirely accurate. The forest was their home, but they could stray from its borders. At least that word was better than—
“Bohpoli,” Chulah agreed. “One just threw sticks at us.”
As if the fairies could be reduced to a verb...thrower. They were more than that, so much more. In the old days, the Choctaw people regarded them as harmless, mischievous beings who threw sticks and stones to scare humans. These days, no one believed in fairies, which suited their need for secrecy just fine.
“April, perhaps?” Tombi asked.
“We don’t know that.” Chulah appeared unamused. “What do you want?” he demanded, staring into the void.
So frustrating. Could they not hear the birds? She must warn them.
“Wait. I hear something.” Chulah raised a finger to his lips and he and Tombi stilled, blending into the shadows. “Ishkitini,” he whispered.
Silently, they each withdrew their backpacks and unpacked their slingshots.
About time. The warriors could handle the birds, but the wisps... April flew above the treetops, above the predatory owls with their intent nocturnal eyes and ruffled feathers.
Seven glowing orbs skittered erratically behind the birds. One moment they were a few inches above ground; the next moment they shone in the treetops, only to flit immediately into a tangle of dying kudzu and brambles. Unpredictability, with no pattern in their movements, was part of what made them potentially deadly. That, and their ability to gang up on their human victims. Some of the wisps had more than one pulsing heart at their center, meaning they had entrapped more than one spirit victim.
There were fewer wisps since Nalusa Falaya had been contained in the last battle, but the surviving wisps were more cunning. More powerful. More deadly.
And they wanted Chulah and Tombi. Desperately.
April’s heart pinched imagining Chulah reduced to a green spirit trapped forever in some wisp’s miasmic glow. She couldn’t let that happen.
But mostly the wisps wanted the shadow hunters’ leader, Tombi. None of them realized Chulah’s silent determination and superior skill were the bigger threat. Nobody but her. It came from years of watching him. Invisible, unapproachable, unknown.
Forbidden.
Yet she still wanted him. In all his human splendor. His cinnamon-colored skin stretched over taut muscles. His long black hair that lifted in the bayou breeze like a silken armor. His brown eyes that were like a deep well reflecting all that was noble and worthy and vulnerable. His chiseled jaw and strong nose. His large, calloused hands that threw rocks with deadly precision but were so gentle and tender when he tended his vegetable garden or stroked an animal.
Seven against two, not counting the distracting Ishkitini. Not a fair fight. She had to save Chulah. How unfair if he should die now, so soon after she had finally had the opportunity to kiss him as a human girl. To lose him when he still thought she might be the enemy. It broke her heart merely imagining it.
She had to fight.
April flew down, aiming at the back of a wisp lagging a bit behind the others.
The decaying scent of Hoklonote teased her senses. He was behind all this, probably watching this attack from a safe distance. Which made it even more dangerous should he decide to enter the fray once the hunters had been weakened or trapped.
She got close enough to the lone wisp that she could identify the trapped victim inside. The green spirit rippled in agony. His name was Nitushi, Young Bear. At age nine, his spirit was captured, well over a hundred years ago. So young. Forced to suffer an existence of suffocating misery more than ten times that of his human life span.
Help me to help you, Nitushi. She pushed the words at him through the wisp’s thin smoke form. Her fairy glow was tiny compared to the wisp’s. So far, it hadn’t noticed her.
In the green flame, she viewed Nitushi’s capture as a human child. He’d disobeyed his parents. Had sneaked deep into the woods at dusk, unafraid and innocent. Convinced that the elders’ tales of evil spirits and bogeymen were stories meant to scare children into obedience.
Until Nalusa Falaya stepped onto the path. A man Nitushi had never seen in his small village. A man...yet not a man. The closer Nalusa drew, the more Nitushi grew uneasy. He had arms and legs and a face like other men, but he was too tall. His ears were too pointed, his eyes were too small, his skin a little darker than others in his Nation.
The long black being—Nalusa Falaya? He’d been warned about the dark shadow spirit, like all Choctaw children. Nitushi threw down his small bow and arrow and ran.
But his legs were not full-grown with the length and span of a grown-up’s limbs. No way to win this race.
Nitushi darted into the underbrush. His small size could be an advantage. He’d use it to hide. Terrified, he glanced back but the strange man had disappeared. Nitushi panted, his heart pounding like a war drum in his chest. He’d never disobey his parents again. He’d never come alone into the woods at night again, he’d never...
A rustle broke through the din of his drumming heartbeat. Louder, closer, fast as an arrow. He looked down and gasped. The hugest snake he’d ever seen. It slithered S-shaped, rattling and deadly.
Nitushi was mesmerized, paralyzed by the small black eyes in its triangular face. Intelligent eyes. The eyes of Nalusa. He closed his eyes before the fangs pierced his flesh and poison invaded his veins like a thousand needles pricking his veins. A wisp hovered nearby, ready to claim Nitushi’s spirit.
April witnessed it all in an instant.
I will free you, Nitushi. All will be well. She was born for this. For wielding her Fae enchantment to soothe a distressed human soul—or a spirit if need be.
April concentrated, inhaling deeply. She exhaled, releasing a mixture of heat and coolness to penetrate the wisp’s orb, a ray of focus that penetrated through the vaporous wisp and to Nitushi.
Fly through the light. Hurry.
He did. The green heart pulsing of his spirit elongated