Bayou Shadow Protector

Tombi sighed. “Then let me say one thing and we’ll never speak of this again.”

“If you must.”

His friend laid a hand on his shoulder. “The three of us have been friends all our lives and I don’t want that to end.”

“It won’t.” Chulah started for the door.

“Hey, buddy,” Tombi called from behind.

Chulah stopped but didn’t turn around.

“I would have loved it if Tallulah had returned your feelings and we became more like brothers. I’ve hoped for that ever since Bo’s death. But I guess you and my twin are too alike for a romantic relationship.”

Chulah slowly faced him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’re both stubborn and possessive and set in having your own way.”

Chulah opened his mouth to object, then snapped it back shut. He remembered their childhood escapades. Even at that young age, all three of them had argued about taking the lead and how they would spend their day. Being a girl didn’t slow Tallulah down a bit. She was a wild tomboy, as fierce and brave and as aggressive as her brother and any of his friends. A real spitfire.

He had always admired that. She was so different from his stepmother and half sister, Brenda, who complained endlessly and depended on him to take care of everything.

“You’d be better off with someone not as much like you,” Tombi continued.

His friend never used to say such ridiculous crap. Marriage had softened Tombi. “If you’re through playing psychologist, I’ll be outside waiting for you to get your stuff.” Chulah stepped into the night and breathed deeply.

Maybe Tombi was right. Maybe he and Tallulah would have made a horrible couple, who would spend their lives constantly arguing. Maybe he’d be better off with a different sort of woman. A woman with a gentle, soft nature but an electric touch.

Chulah straightened his shoulders. Enough of such foolish thoughts.

* * *

It was like any other autumn night, and they’d hunted the same area hundreds of times. As a child, Chulah enjoyed this season more than any other—the slight chill in the air that annihilated the smothering swamp humidity. But even though winters and autumns were mild, at times the Gulf breeze whipped so fiercely that bits of sand peppered the flesh like BB-gun pellets. It wouldn’t kill or cause serious injury, but it hurt like hell.

“Don’t expect anything,” Chulah warned Tombi as they entered the woods. “I have a feeling I caught the thing by surprise earlier.”

Adrenaline coursed through his veins, more than the usual anticipatory hunting mode. He’d never hunted unknown creatures before. Would it appear?

Chulah led the way, sure of his direction. His eyes adjusted to the dark and his senses heightened. He felt the pulse of scrambling squirrels, the splash of fish, the buzz of skeeters, the retreating tide. Somewhere, someone far away had lit a campfire, and he inhaled the smoke of sweet gum and oak, an autumnal scent that brought back childhood memories of Halloween parties and hayrides. A more carefree time.

But as an adult, autumn often felt like the earth dying a little every day. Darkness encroaching on daylight, animals retreating to their dens, foliage dropping lifelessly from the trees. A season when green turned to taupe gray and the sun grew cold.

Unbidden, Chulah again remembered the startling charge of April’s touch. The pleasant burn of her lips on his. Now, there was light and warmth and all the fire a man needed to fight against the encroaching dark of winter.

They trudged through thickets of saw palmettos, alert for a change in smell or sight, subtle shifts of energy that foretold trouble.

Chulah surveyed the area, frowning. Where was that damn tree?

Tombi tapped his shoulder and lifted both palms upward. What’s going on?

Chulah shrugged and raised a hand, motioning Tombi to stay put. Slowly, he circled several trees, testing their life force. Nothing but the usual calm, steady wisdom emanated from their roots and the spreading limbs draped in Spanish moss.

He sighed in disgust and returned to Tombi’s side, shaking his head. The creature—fairy—had made a fool of him. Chulah was unsure of it reappearing, but he hadn’t anticipated trouble locating the tree.

Tombi leaned in and whispered in his ear. “Did you mark it?”

Damn. He shook his head. Now he appeared a double fool. Even a rookie hunter knew that things shifted out here, defied logic and science. What was before might never appear in the same manner again. A new twist in a path, a slight change in the water’s course or disappearing rock formations. As if the woods were a living organism with their own laws and ways, unwilling to divulge all their secrets to any one person or species.

Tombi motioned to a fallen log. A place to sit. And observe.

A strategy that didn’t often work, but had proved helpful a few times in the past. Like grazing deer, sometimes spirits could be lulled into a false sense of security, never suspecting that a hunter lay in wait.

Patient, silent, at one with the dark stillness. They sat together, absorbing the night and its energy. No hint of anything. An hour passed. Two.

Tombi stood and stretched. “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.