Bayou Shadow Hunter

Tombi abruptly halted and frowned her way. “You care so much what others think?”

“Of course I care.” She thought of all the times people had skirted around her in school hallways or outright laughed in her face. She’d watched from the sidelines in the purgatory that was high school, unsure which she craved more—the huddling conspiracy of a group of girlfriends to share secrets and fun times with, or some cute guy to take her to dinner and a movie and whisper sweet seductions in the back of a car. “Everyone cares.”

He shrugged. “Not me.”

Easy for him to say—with his looks he probably had any woman he wanted. And he had a tribe of like-minded friends and family. Why should he give any thought to what was so easily granted to him?

Annie reluctantly walked beside him, trying to emulate his mask of calm. They came to a halt six feet in front of the group.

“This is Annie Matthews.” Tombi gestured to the left with his hand. “This is Tallulah, Hanan and Chula.”

The silence roared in her, air compressing and as stifling as a sealed coffin. They formed a firewall of mistrust and resentment, shutting her out of their circle. Annie sucked in her breath at the glittering hostility in Tallulah’s obsidian eyes. Nearly as tall as her brother, she bore the same long face, chiseled features and strong chin. It shouldn’t have worked for a female, and while she wasn’t beautiful in a Miss America or girl-next-door kind of way, Tallulah was striking and commanded attention. Annie barely took in the stoic features of the other three men.

Tallulah put her hands on her hips. “Well?”

“W-well what?” Annie stammered. She glanced at Tombi in a silent plea for help.

“Go ahead,” Tallulah challenged. “I dare you to point a finger at any one of us. You don’t know—”

“Enough,” Tombi cut in.

The man next to her—Chula—lightly touched Tallulah’s forearm, and a whisper as tender as a lullaby brushed over Annie at the gesture.

“We already debated this last night and agreed to meet Annie. Let’s get this over with.” Hanan pinned Annie with a hard stare, and the whisper of sound vanished. “The sooner, the better.”

Annie swallowed hard at their collective stare. Talk about being on the spot.

“It’s not that easy. I have to be around you for a bit.” She cast another look at Tombi. “Can we all sit together by the fire?”

Tombi nodded, and she followed him to the middle of the pitched tents, the others following in silence behind them.

In the center was a stack of firewood coated in ash. Colorful wool blankets were spread in a circle around the campfire. They each went to a blanket and sat, except Tombi. “You can have my blanket,” he said, pointing to one. “I’ll stand.”

She sank down and crossed her feet beneath her. Annie tried to relax and open her senses, but it was difficult as the others stared at her expectantly. As if she was some kind of circus performer. She closed her eyes, more to shut out their stares than out of necessity.

The unnatural quiet unnerved her. How did they do it? They each had some type of guard up, some way of blocking their music. Her palms gripped her knees. Very well. She’d try to wait them out, see if any sound escaped.

The vibrations of a deep rumbling laugh iced down her spine. Witch. The word was an accusation, underlain with mirth. Be gone, little girl.

Annie opened her eyes and met their curious, blank stares. “Did you hear that laugh? That voice?”

No one spoke.

Tombi uncrossed his arms and sat beside her on the blanket. “What did you hear?”

She bit her lip. Had the laugh and the words come from one of the hunters, or was there something else out there? Something just beyond the ring of trees and the safety of the fire where shadows lengthened and danced?

Annie shook her head slightly and closed her eyes again. Silence blanketed her as thick and unrelenting as a stone wall. It was hopeless. Nothing else was coming through that wall.

She opened her eyes. “I don’t know how y’all do it, but I’m impressed.”

“Do what?” Chula asked.

“Close off your energy.” Annie turned to Tombi. “Isn’t that how you described it? Keeping everything closed in?”

Tallulah made an impatient tsk sound. “Why did you tell this girl our secrets? For all we know, she could be one of them.”

“One of who?” Annie asked.

“Don’t act so innocent,” Tallulah snapped. “If there’s someone controlled by the dark side, my guess is that it’s you.”

Annie rose to her feet and took in their hostile stares. “I didn’t have to tell Tombi what I heard last night. I didn’t ask Bo to seek me out. And I certainly don’t have to take your attitude.”

She stalked off. Screw them. She’d tried. Not her fault if they had some special power to resist her hearing.

Dry grass crunched in the parched soil behind her. Tombi stepped to her side and walked, matching her pace.

“I’m not going back there,” she spat, “so don’t try to talk me into it.”

He said nothing but walked in front of her as they reentered the narrow path. He held back branches to keep them from slapping her in the face. A snapping, crackling sound simmered in the air swirling around him, like dry brush catching fire.

“You’re angry with me,” Annie said. “I really did try. But your sister...” She tried to collect her temper. She still needed his help and insulting Tallulah wouldn’t serve her cause. “You are going to help me. Right?”

* * *

She looked desperate, but Tombi hardened his heart. He wasn’t about to give up. Not as long as Bo was trapped and not as long as Nalusa and the other shadow spirits grew and trespassed the ancient boundaries.

“Eventually,” he promised. “What did you hear back there?”

“Nothing that can help you.”

Tombi stopped in his tracks and folded his arms against his chest. “Might as well spit it out. I’ll be out in these woods through the night anyhow.”

“Do you live out here all the time?”

“Only one week out of the month, around the full moon.”

Her dark eyes widened. “We believe in the power of the full moon, too.”

“We?”

“My grandmother and I.” She swallowed. “And others like us.”

“Other witches?”

“Why must you put labels on people?” she countered. “We’re known by many names, and we all have different practices—root workers, healers, pagans and, okay, witches.”

“Do they all hear as you do?”