She wanted to ask if he believed the queen was being tortured. But she already knew the answer. It was there in the high-pitched wailing inside the tree. Chulah squeezed her hand, as if guessing the direction of her thoughts.
To the right, from a distance, came a flickering teal glow.
“Might as well take care of that wisp while we’re out here,” he said. “If you’re up to it.”
“Sure. Anything we can do to help kill off their army.” Action was the antidote to worry.
They switched directions. Another light flickered. Two of them. But no need to worry—she was with the tribe’s most accurate hunter, and she had her own defensive and offensive moves. In a matter of under a hundred steps they were upon the wisps. Chulah stealthily loaded a slingshot and sent a rock flying. A puff of acrid smoke curled into the treetops.
One down.
In seconds, he’d reloaded and shot before the remaining wisp registered what had happened to its companion.
Another puff of smoke.
Chulah stuffed the slingshot in his backpack and turned away.
“No, wait. I want to see who’s been freed.”
His brow furrowed. “Why? Your betrayer has already been annihilated.”
“Don’t you have any curiosity?” She couldn’t tell him she was always looking for her mother with every released wisp. How pathetic was that? April rubbed her arms self-consciously, hardly daring to admit the secret desire even to herself.
Looking for Mother had once proved deadly.
Yet she hurried toward the smoke, anxious to arrive as soon as the spirit broke free and rose to the heavens.
She arrived seconds too late for the first spirit.
Just her luck. April quickly turned to the second spirit. A pure white ball of light emerged from the sulfurous smoke. April immediately sensed it was Fae. A female. Don’t get your hopes up yet. It’s never been her before.
The light danced and bobbed either in joy or from otherworldly music no one on the earthly plane could hear.
Who are you? April pushed the thought to the spirit. It stilled.
Fawn.
Shivers doused her from scalp to toes. Not a common name, not by a long shot. Slow down, girl. Could be a Native American female trapped for centuries.
April? Is that you, darling?
April’s feet rooted to soil like morning glory to brick. Shallow breathing whooshed the air. Hers. This was a cruel mirage. She refused to believe.
The white orb lowered, drew closer, almost blinding. She squinted. Who are you really? Did Hoklonote send you to trick me?
No trick, sweetheart. You are my daughter. My baby girl all grown up.
A sudden gust of wind blew like a mini cyclone, a warning to move on.
And still April could not speak. No words could convey the loneliness of childhood, the years of grief over an unknown mother. Feeling like an orphan, abandoned. She’d envisioned this moment all her life. Yet here she stood.
Mute.
It’s okay. You are going to be fine.
Exactly what she needed to hear. Somehow, Mother knew.
I never abandoned you, April. The betrayer killed me and David, your father.
The wind picked up, the orb elongated to an almost flat oval, about to be carried away to the After Life. April found her voice. Love you, Mama!
Her mother’s spirit was sucked into the cyclone and lifted upward. Hot tears slid down April’s pale, cold cheeks and her body was racked with trembling.
“What’s wrong? April? Talk to me.” Chulah’s voice seemed to come from the bottom of a deep well. “Can you hear me?”
She reached out a hand, eyes blind from tears and bright light. A warm, strong calloused hand grasped hers and held tight. She wasn’t alone.
Her body was pulled toward his strong center, a gravitational force of power. An anchor in the swirling maelstrom. She had no idea how long they held each other. But the trembling ceased, her wet cheeks dried, and her breath calmed to an easy in-and-out rhythm. Chulah ran a hand through her hair and brushed the chill from her cheeks. “Can you talk about what happened?”
“You didn’t hear?”
“No.” He bestowed a kiss on her forehead. “Your lips moved but no sound came out. It looked as if you talked to the released spirit before it left for the heavens. Was it someone you knew?”
“My mother.”
He gathered her into his broad chest and stroked her back. He understood the pain. No words were necessary. Familiar shame twisted her stomach. How much worse for him when his father died. She’d never known her mother, but he’d had fifteen years of companionship with his father before he died. Surely his pain had been fifteen times worse.
“Come to my cabin,” he said at last. “We’re done for the night.”
* * *
“Drink this.”
April cupped the warm mug of tea in her palms, already comforted. “Thanks.” She sipped experimentally and decided she liked hot tea. Between the heat of the fireplace and the tea warming her inside, the tension eased, if not the sadness.
Chulah sprawled across from her in the recliner, a coffee cup in hand. “So tell me exactly what happened out there.”
“I finally found my mother.” April closed her eyes, collecting her grief. “I never knew her. Didn’t know if she was dead or alive. Now I do.” She shook her head. “I shouldn’t be so upset. It’s not like she raised me. I don’t know her at all.”
“Hey, kid. Give yourself a break. It was your mother, for Pete’s sake. There will always be a bond between the two of you, no matter the circumstances.”
April traced the rim of the cup with an index finger, not looking up. “I don’t have the right. It doesn’t compare to the grief you must have felt when your father died.”
Ceramic thudded against wood as Chulah carefully put down his cup on the coffee table. He rose and sat next to her, the sofa sinking with his weight. An arm rested on her shoulder, inviting her to snuggle against his side.
“You have the right to feel any way you want,” he said fiercely. “It’s okay.”
The words rumbled out of his chest like thunder and echoed through her body. April wept. Not quietly as in the woods, but loud, strangled sobs that had a will of their own and would not be silenced. Through it all, she absorbed his strength. His sympathy.
And—as she liked to hope—his love.
Once the storm of tears subsided, she felt worn, as tired as she’d ever been.
“Stay with me tonight,” Chulah said. He lifted her in his arms and carried her to the bedroom. Gently, he placed her on the bed and lay beside her. She curled into his heat and sank into the peaceful oblivion of sleep.
* * *
Chulah softly ran his hands through April’s silver-and-purple hair, careful not to wake her. As she slept, he could watch her unobserved, take in her delicate features and otherworldly beauty without fear of looking like a love-starved teenager.
Despite their deep and obvious differences, they were each alone and something of outcasts. He’d been wrong to think of her as a bit shallow. She’d endured hardship, probably more than him. At least he had his close friends. April, apparently, had grown up friendless and without love.
Somehow, her hard life hadn’t destroyed her optimism and faith. She was sunshine and music and gentle in nature. A wry smile split the taut muscles of his face. Only a few weeks ago, he’d been such a fool thinking he wanted Tallulah as a wife.
And while he was being honest...he was relieved rather than disappointed—now the initial embarrassment had passed—that she had refused him. Tallulah had been, perhaps, a little too convenient. They’d grown up together, had shared similar gifts and had fought alongside each other. Their families were close. She’d been his secret crush in high school, and with Bo gone, it was only natural he’d drifted to her familiar, comfortable presence.
Chulah found he preferred the light, delicate, mysterious April over the dark warrior Tallulah.
And that scared the hell out of him. Could he trust his feelings for April now? So much had happened, so quickly. Time would test them, but he hoped their foundation was now solid.
Chapter 13
Annie opened the door before April even raised her hand to knock.
“About time you came for a visit.” She opened the door and April walked into the cozy cabin, looking nervously for Tombi.
“He’s not here,” Annie said with a knowing smile. “He’s installing kitchen cabinets for a client today.”
Disconcerting how Annie read her thoughts.
“Sorry, dear. I don’t mean to alarm you.”
Further proof she was a mind reader. She followed Annie into the den and they sat across from each other.
“Would you like something to drink?”
“No, thank you.” April stared down at her intertwined hands on her lap, suddenly shy.
Annie briefly touched her knee. “Let me make this easy for you. You came to talk about Chulah.”
“Yes,” April said gratefully. “I hope you don’t mind. I realize you don’t know me well, but—”
“I don’t have to know a person a long time to get a feel for their character. It’s a gift passed down to me from my grandmother.”
“Tia Henrietta. I’ve heard of her powers.”
A smile of delight spread on Annie’s face. “Even among the fairies? She’ll be so pleased to hear that.”
“The thing is...” April swallowed past the lump in her throat. “Well, I love him. I loved him from afar for over a decade, and now that I’ve been with him in flesh and blood, I love him even more.”
“Anyone can tell you love him. It’s written all over your face when you look at Chulah.”
“That obvious, huh?”
“And you’re good for him. I see his eyes soften when he looks at you, the way he totally focuses on you when you’re around. His entire energy changes.”
April lifted her fingers to her eyes and pinched them shut. She should be happy...and yet her secret shame couldn’t let her accept if he could love her. If he knew how selfish she’d been, that she had caused the death of his father, he’d never forgive her sin.
“You love him and he cares for you. So what’s the problem?” Annie asked, soft and yet direct.
The need to unburden her secret, one she’d carried alone for years, burst upon her like a waterfall. “The problem is...I killed his father.”
Annie paled. “You did what?”
“Oh, not directly. Although that hardly matters. Dead is dead.” She couldn’t bear Annie’s dismay and shock. Caught her by surprise that time.
“Start from the beginning.” Annie’s tone was deep and her eyes grave.
At least she wasn’t looking at her with outright disgust, though she deserved it.
“I was sixteen years old. Young, but old enough to have had more sense. I was rebellious and selfish and—”
“Stop the self-recrimination and just tell me what happened.”
April bit her lip and nodded. “Right. Well, at age sixteen I was angry over the way I was treated, so I ran away from the Fae realm. A huge no-no in our world. One that can get you cast out forever.
“It was a risk I was willing to take. I’d been told my mother deserted me for her human lover and I was taunted over my impure Fae status. One day, it was all too much and I ran away, determined to find my mother and make her explain. Ask her to take me away from all the jeers and contempt. So I ran. And there came Chulah. Running through the woods like a silent giant, his long black hair fluttering in the breeze, his bronzed chest bare and rippling muscle. And that face. That perfectly sculpted face. So intent. I’d never felt it before. A shot of pure lust and desire.
“I wondered if he could help me. Maybe he knew of some strange woman with a mysterious past in the bayou. I gathered all my magic, took a deep breath, put my hand to my mouth and blew, directing everything I had at him.
“He stopped, looked around, lines wrinkling his brow. I walked up and questioned him. But he was dazed and barely coherent. I realized then I had used way too much magic. I’d never tried to enchant a human before. I’d overdone it and I didn’t know how to undo the magic. He sank to the ground, burying his face in his hands.”
April closed her eyes, remembering. She’d whispered I’m sorry beside Chulah, for all the good that had done. A buzzing had whistled past her ear. The fairies were close; they’d spotted her, alerted to the magic energy she’d released. There would be hell to pay but it would be easier if she returned on her own without an escort. She had stared again at the immobile, handsome giant. He’d be okay, eventually. Confused, but okay.
April opened her eyes. “So I—I left him.”
April expected to see reproach on Annie’s face. Now she knew the kind of being she really was.
“Poor Chulah,” Annie said. “And poor you.”
“I found out later that he’d been running for help to save his father.”
“Who had been bitten by a snake,” Annie said. “I’ve heard the tale, but it was long before I knew Chulah.”
“Because of me, Chulah was out cold for nearly two hours. By the time he returned to the woods with help, his father was dead. Now you know the truth. My rashness and selfishness cost a life. And it was all for nothing. I didn’t even have a coherent plan to find my mother. I just had an overwhelming urge to escape Fairy.”
“You were young.”
“Old enough to know better. Over the years, I kept returning to see Chulah in fairy form. I owed him. So I did what I could, helped him in shadow-spirit battles and eased his pain when possible. All invisible, of course.”
“Wait a minute. Do you love Chulah, or have you gotten wrapped up in his life because of a childhood mistake?”
Her breath caught. Could there be any truth in that? His image flashed in her mind, the feel of his body next to hers, the passion of their lovemaking.
“It’s love,” she said firmly. “He’s a good man. A kind, loyal, brave man who suffered because of me.”
“Are you sure you’re not fooling yourself? Trying to atone for your mistake?”
April shook her head.
Annie got up, sat beside her and gave her a hug. “Hang in there. Chulah needs you.”
“Not if he finds out I’m the one responsible for his dad’s death. There’s no getting past that.”
* * *
Heat and chills alternated in pulsing cycles, as if Chulah’s skin had been dipped in acid and then plunged into ice water. He’d just come in from talking with Tombi, and although he hadn’t meant to eavesdrop, he’d wanted to surprise April. He’d wanted to see her eyes light at the sight of him and wink at her, a secret sharing of their intimacy.
“Explain,” he now demanded harshly. How he managed to grind out the one word past the boa-like constriction of his throat was a miracle.
“I knew it,” Tombi said, throwing his backpack on the sofa. “We never should have trusted you.”
Annie hurried to her husband. “Don’t make things worse. Let’s leave them to work this out.”
“There’s no working it out,” Chulah said bitterly, eyes fastened on April. “As you said, there’s no getting past this.”
“Chulah, I’m so sorry. I can explain—”
“Hell yeah, you’re going to explain. Then I never want to see you again.”
He was aware of Tombi and Annie leaving the room, closing a door behind them to allow him privacy.
Tears poured from those lovely eyes. His heart squeezed, but he hardened the softness. She wouldn’t play him for a fool a second time.
“I was sixteen. I’d run away from Fairy to try and find my mother. The first person I saw was you. You were running through the woods and I...” Her shaky voice wound down and she took a deep breath. “I used my magic to stop you and ask if you could help in my search.”
“Why did you have to do that? You couldn’t have just asked?”
“Yo
u were in a hurry and I was afraid you’d brush me off.”
“Of course I would have blown you off. I was trying to get help for Dad. He’d been bitten by a snake.”
“I—I didn’t know that.”
“Because you didn’t care about anything but yourself.”
“I was young. I didn’t know better. It doesn’t excuse—”
He didn’t want to hear it. There was no justification. “Get on with your story.”
She swallowed hard. “I must have overdone it. I’d only practiced magic on flowers and small animals.”
Just his damn luck he was in the wrong place at the wrong time. “What happened to me?”
“You fell down and passed out.”
His missing two hours. Two hours that had cost him everything. His dad. Years of doubt about his sanity and character. Years of waiting on Joanna and his half siblings, trying to atone for failing their husband and father.
His legs felt cut from underneath. Back stiff, he slowly walked to a chair and sat, careful to keep his face stoic.
“I thought I had panicked. Had totally lost it when the person I most respected needed me. Now I find out you put me in some kind of fugue state.”
Bits and pieces of dreams realigned into a pattern. The scent of violets, the musical voice, the silver hair—he’d experienced them all before in snatches of dreams upon awakening. But he’d never suspected they were clues to the missing hours.
He would never, ever let that happen again. Since his dad died, he’d kept a tight rein on his emotions, careful to do his duty with little complaint. Determined to live the rest of his life doing the right thing and never again let down family or friends.
April sat at his feet and laid her head in his lap. “I’m so sorry. Please forgive me.”
Chulah gently took her shoulders and pulled her away. “Do you have any idea what I’ve been through because of you? Bad enough my father died, but to believe I failed him as he lay dying? I can never forgive you.”
“When I found out later what I had done, I was devastated. I tried to make it up to you over the years. Helped you in battle, comforted you if I saw you were upset.”
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