Bayou Shadow Protector

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.

Chapter 5 (#ulink_311ef7de-9124-5200-8ed1-a5a34c351114)

Tombi must have been badly hurt.

All day, she’d expected him, his wife and Chulah to show up at the store. She’d even demanded that the irritating Steven stay by her side, sure the trio would try to trip her up with their questions. She couldn’t let them discover more about their race or the sacred fairy tree.

But the only thing worse than an inquisition was waiting for one to happen.

To hell with waiting and wondering. Steven had given up on them coming and had gone back to the Fae realm to visit and replenish his shape-shifting form.

April closed the store and rode her bike through the woods to Chulah’s cabin. The light shone from his windows, a welcoming beacon in the late-afternoon October chill. She rapped at the heavy wooden door, hoping to catch him alone.

He flung the door open and slumped against the frame. “You,” he said flatly.

His face was gray and his hair in wild disarray. He wore only a pair of low-slung jeans, and her mouth went dry at the sight of his bare chest and flat, muscled abs. Sure, she’d seen him bare-chested many times, but within actual touching range, as a human, was so different. It was all she could do not to run a hand down his sleek torso.

“Can I come in?” April peeked past him, relieved no one else was in sight. “You look awful. The wisps got to you last night.”

He stiffened. “What do you know about that?”

She couldn’t keep her big mouth shut. “I might have been there.” She’d been lying in bed in that stark apartment, breathing stale air, longing for the night air. To spread her wings and fly. So she came to the forest, soothing her soul with its life force. But instead of a peaceful interlude, she’d been drawn into battle.

Chulah’s eyes narrowed to suspicious slits. “You’re the...thing...I saw in the woods, aren’t you? Did you send the wisps our way?”

Obstinate, suspicious man. April put her hands on her hips, goaded into spilling her guts. She was tired of all the blame. It was time he learned she was his ally and not his enemy. “Yeah, I was there. And I took out three wisps for you.”

So much for waiting until Chulah was in love with her to reveal that she wasn’t an ordinary human. He continued to regard her wordlessly.

“You’re welcome,” she said, bristling. “Now, are you going to let me in or not? We need to talk.”

Chulah stepped to the side and waved her in.

April entered and studied the cabin’s interior. She’d never seen it before, except that small bit observable through a lit window at night. Not that she hadn’t tried. But Chulah and the other hunters placed consecrated sage and salt on all four corners of their dwellings for protection against the shadows. Even though she wasn’t one of the dark shadow spirits, in Fae form she was a nature spirit, and the salt and sage had effectively prevented her from entering.

Probably a good thing. She’d have been unable to resist being near Chulah as he slept, or even better, showered.

The rooms were as sparse as his words. Minimalistic. The coziness of the log walls contrasted with the modern lines of dark leather sofas and chairs. Bright-colored woven rugs adorned one wall and another enlivened the center of the den. April sat down. Motorcycle magazines, empty soda cans, a wet washcloth and a large bottle of aspirin lay scattered on a glass coffee table.

“Feeling poorly?”