Bayou Shadow Protector. Debbie Herbert
at them.
“Look out!” Tombi warned, rolling to his right. “Incoming.”
Blinding strobes of flashing light pulsated in the darkness and Chulah squinted. A cold, foul odor emanated from the nearby wisp and it filled Chulah with an immobilizing dread. No wisp had ever come so close to him. Surprise left him vulnerable. There was no time to mentally shield his mind from the despair the wisps exuded. They fed on human misery. It made them stronger, more lethal.
A rock whizzed by his ear.
“Bingo,” Tombi grunted. “I got it.”
The flashing light extinguished and the trapped soul escaped, lighting up as instantaneously as a struck match and ascending upward. Joy and peace filled Chulah’s heart. The sensation was a hundred times stronger than the wisp’s aura of despair.
Incredibly, the Ishkitini arose en masse and left.
Chulah scrambled to his feet and circled Tombi’s body, searching for more wisps. “I don’t get it,” he mumbled, hands on his hips. “I saw at least three other wisps preparing to attack us. Where did they go?”
“We’d be goners if they’d stuck around,” Tombi said, his voice so faint that Chulah was instantly drawn to a new dilemma.
He dropped to a knee beside his friend. They’d helped each other many times throughout the years, but this was the closest they had come to almost dying. He’d never forget that Tombi had saved his life with the last-minute rock hit.
Tombi, and some stroke of fortune that scared off the Ishkitini and will-o’-the-wisps. Where had that help come from? A mystery to ponder later.
“We need to get you medical help. Quick.” Chulah put one arm under Tombi’s knees and the other beneath his back. With a grunt, he lifted Tombi. Somehow, he’d find the strength to carry him to the cabin.
“Put me down,” Tombi protested. “I can walk.”
Chulah eased him down to his feet and Tombi passed out. Perspiration broke out all over Chulah’s body. He was alone in the woods with a man who might be dying.
Just like his father.
And he’d been unable to save him either.
* * *
April shivered as an eerie silence split the night, broken only by the faraway screeches of retreating owls. She couldn’t stop the flooding waves of panic, even though the danger had passed. The image of Chulah, frozen and vulnerable as the wisp hovered, homing in to claim his soul, would haunt her the rest of her life. Without thinking, she’d attacked another wisp closing in on Chulah from behind, a second before he would have been lost to her forever. The other two wisps had scampered into the safety of the woods, bewildered at the invisible attacks.
Stunned and exhausted, April gazed down at the wreckage.
Chulah’s face was grimy and he bent down on one knee to the figure lying prone on the ground. “Tombi? Wake up. Wake up or Annie will never forgive you for leaving her. You hear me?”
The man lay unmoving.
Oh, my queen. Not again. Guilt paralyzed her essence. She’d been responsible the last time when Chulah lost the father he adored. And now his best friend might die, too?
Tombi stirred and groaned. “Give me a minute. I’ll be fine.”
Chulah let out a low breath and wiped his brow. The same relief almost made April melt, until wistfulness crept in. If only Chulah cared a fraction as much about her as he did his friend.
Okay, she was being unreasonable. He’d never laid eyes on her until recently—at least not that he remembered. Trouble was, she’d been secretly watching him for years. He’d first caught her eye as a young teenager, so brave and strong and dominating the other boys in their fierce stickball competitions.
But the first time they’d actually met, she’d ruined his life in the space of a mere two hours. Later, after his father had died, she’d watched him again in Fae form. Around his large family of younger brothers and sister, his face had been stoic. He’d amused the younger kids and comforted the crying girl. For hours. Until he went for a walk.
She had followed. Ashamed for playing a role in the death of the father he loved.
Not having parents, she didn’t entirely understand his grief. But as an outcast in the Fae realm, she had made up stories of a mother and father’s love. The truth was that her mother had abandoned her for a human lover. April wasn’t sure who her real father was or if he cared she existed. Still, she’d fantasized about a parent’s love and imagined how she’d feel if one of them had died.
Chulah had stopped and sat on a fallen log, burying his face in his hands. He made no sound, but his shoulders shook. It was awful. It seemed never-ending. A desire to touch him nearly overpowered April. But she couldn’t—the Fae taboo was too strong.
Maybe just a little enchantment...enough to give him a bit of comfort. She hovered closer, planting a kiss on her palm and blowing it toward him on the wind.
He ceased the dreadful shaking and raised his head, bewildered. “Who’s there?” he whispered.
April had said nothing.
No human had ever noticed or spoken to her before. Not that she’d done much enchanting, but she’d seen the other Fae cast them. No human had ever questioned who was there and what they were doing.
Concluding she sucked at enchantments, April had drifted farther back into the woods. Chulah arose and brusquely swiped at his face with his T-shirt. “Thank you,” he said, thumping his right hand on his chest.
He was talking to her!
April hardly dared move as he returned to his family’s cabin. She’d probably fallen a little in love with them right there at age sixteen.
A large moan snapped April out of her reverie. Tombi stumbled to his feet, with Chulah supporting his weight on one arm.
“Let’s get you home. Annie will have you feeling better in no time.”
Tombi laughed ruefully. “The cure will be worse than the pain. I hate to think what bitter concoction she’ll brew.”
“Whatever it is, you’ll drink it and be grateful,” Chulah said firmly. “She’s saved your ass more than once with her herbs.”
They made slow, painful progress. April flew behind, in case there were more surprise attacks.
Chulah suddenly halted, as if he had sensed her presence. He pumped a fist in the air. “Is that you, April? If you had anything to do with tonight, I’ll...” He sputtered to a stop, his eyes flashing like lightning and his voice deep and rumbling like thunder.
So he’d guessed and made a connection that she was the creature he’d seen earlier—although he couldn’t know for sure. Pain washed over her in waves, drowning her in misery. He was so blind, literally and figuratively.
And maybe...just maybe...he wasn’t the man she’d thought him to be. Maybe that young boy she had connected to, the one so moved at his father’s death, yet so kind and caring with his family, maybe that boy had died over the hard years of battles and deceits and deaths. Maybe the hardened warrior he’d become had lost the ability to love and sense the beauty that skittered outside his peripheral vision.
If so, that would be the greatest tragedy of all. April slumped to the ground. If only there was someone for her. Someone who cared. Had cared about her her whole life and she just didn’t know it.
But there was no one.
She lifted her head, full of resolve. Chulah didn’t have to know this pain. This crippling loneliness. She knew that somewhere inside Chulah, the young boy he’d been remained. She just had to find him. Even if he believed the worst of her, even if he learned the truth and condemned her for killing his father, she still loved him.