Hunter of the Heart: Moon, Magic, Madness, Book 1

by Vanessa Jaye

  “I felt the pleasure,” he stressed. “We share the same dreams you and I.”

  “No, we don’t.” She took in a tremulous breath. “Your dreams died with Beth.”

  “My dreams are alive again. Here.” He meant to touch his heart but his fingers brushed against the leather pouch that lay against his bare chest and he grasped the talisman. When Tessa's features darkened, he let go and pressed his hand against her chest, feeling the racing beat of her heart beneath his palm.

  “And here, your heart holds the truth. Why can’t you accept that?”

  “You don’t know what my heart holds, Nate.” She shoved his hand away and sat up. “I. Am. Not. Beth. Why can’t you accept that?”

  “Because I know I’m right!”

  “You are not right! You’re scared. Scared to love again. Scared to feel that hurt again. It’s so much easier to love a memory, isn’t it? Or a ghost come back to life.” Tessa drew her knees up and wrapped her arms around them. “Well, I’m not your ghost, Nate. I won’t be,” she said, her voice more hoarse than whisper. “The only connection I have to Beth is you.”

  Tessa held his fierce gaze for several seconds before she slipped back down onto the mattress and turned away from him.

  “Look somewhere else for your dead dreams.”

  Surprisingly, she slept deeply the rest of the night and woke early the next day with a mixed sense of anticipation and anxiety. While the hustle to disembark provided some distraction to the awkwardness between her and Nate, as Tessa walked down the ramp she found that not even the morning’s pervasive unease could completely dampen her spirits.

  Once they cleared the St. Stephan’s customs check, they followed the other passengers the short distance to the main road. Nate and Mitch ignored the entreaties of the island taxi-drivers and street hawkers, but Tessa lagged back. She would’ve loved to check out the vendors, maybe buy a trinket or two.

  Nate slowed down till she caught up.

  “We’ll stop at the Pirates Market on our way back, if you want.” He pointed to a larger cluster of colorful stalls in the distance. “That’s where the better local artists sell their crafts. But first we have some business to take care of.”

  “Glad you remembered we ain’t here for sightseeing.” Mitch had waited for them to catch up. “Heard anything from Templeton yet?”

  “He’s planning on lunch.”

  “Well, hell, you know I won’t say no to Templeton’s cooking.” Mitch glanced at his watch. “But we’re gonna be a mite early for lunch.”

  “You can thank the good captain for the speedy disembarkment. He’s determined to keep the whole situation under wraps.”

  “I heard that. Looks like business-as-usual is the rule of the day. And can we get an Amen for the jurisdictional mess covering international waters? Wonder how long it will take them to connect the body onboard to the murders on Bados?”

  “Let’s hope a very long time. The last thing we need is a bunch of humans involved in this.”

  At Nate’s casual use of “humans”, Tessa’s step faltered. She must be out of her freaking mind going along with this situation. Tessa fought the hysterical giggle she felt bubbling up her throat.

  “I don’t know about you, but getting eaten by that freakin’ Pithcus comes under the heading of ‘involved’ in my book,” Mitch said.

  Word. She and Mitch must be reading the same book.

  “The official reason they’re giving is death by misfortune,” Nate offered.

  Mitch snorted. “Mother-effing misfortune, my ass. Below decks the crew ain’t buying the official reason, and they don’t believe in no wild animal attack either. They’re talking about the Diablo that moves unseen around the ship.” Mitch shook his head. “Man, I haven’t seen so many crucifixes since the last World Youth day.”

  From her periphery, she saw Nate’s hand make an aborted move towards his chest. Then he said, “Everyone needs something to believe in.”

  And she wondered, not for the first time, about the story behind that pouch he wore around his neck.

  “Well, I believe the best way to save the soul is to save the ass—mainly mine, next in line, yours. And speaking of asses…” Mitch trailed off and whistled low.

  “Nate, man, check that.”

  Curious, Tessa looked too, and immediately noticed the statuesque female in a neon pink halter-dress and large floppy-brimmed hat. She was standing at the curb, watching for a break in traffic to cross the street.

  “Hmm, hmm, hmm. Hot-buttered booty. Always did have a thing for redheads. So passionate and take charge.”

  From what Tessa had observed, Mitch had a thing for blondes and brunettes too.

  As if she’d heard Mitch’s comment, the redhead looked at him with a slow sultry smile and trailed a finger along the low neckline that revealed a generous swath of her pale flesh.

  Tessa crossed her arms over her less bountiful endowments.

  “More than a mouthful is a waste.”

  As easy as that, Nate was in her head again. Hot knife, meet butter. Erotic images tumbled through her head, plunging shivery sensations deep into her gut and she ached with the need to have his mouth—

  “Don’t!”

  “Don’t what? Don’t want you? Don’t want to—”

  “Stop. Just stop it,” she begged in a ragged voice.

  She knew exactly what he wanted to do. Message received loud and clear. She struggled to suppress the echoes of pleasures that played over her skin and glared at him.

  Nate came closer and took hold of her hand.

  “But I haven’t even begun, Tessa.” His own voice dropped to a husky tenor. The type of whisper a lover spoke within the early morning hours or used to murmur wicked things deep in the night.

  His head dipped down, blotting out the rest of the world. “And when I do start, there’ll be no stopping.” He promised with the lightest brush of his lips against hers.

  It was a gentle touch, mouths barely touching, yet significant enough to trap the breath in her lungs. She was swathed in yearning, wanting nothing more than to sink into the kiss, open up and let him sink into…

  “Breathe,” he said, and she did, a short gasp that caused her heart to burst into a trip-hammer beat.

  A pulse beat just as wildly at his temple and his eyes seemed to flash silver. Nate straightened up and tugged her along as they caught up to Mitch, who appeared to be in heavy flirt-mode with the redhead.

  “Nate, Tessa, this is Angelica. Angelica is traveling on the Pleasure Princess too. Small world.” Mitch made the introductions.

  “But not as small as you would like?” Angelica gave him a sly look before turning her bright blue gaze on Nate and Tessa.

  “Hi. Nice to meet you. You guys going to the market?”

  The other woman was stunning, and Tessa unconsciously moved closer to Nate. He gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. “We’ll be checking it out a bit later. But first we have an old friend to visit.”

  “Oh, you know someone lucky enough to live in this paradise?”

  Before he could answer, someone yelled out their names.

  “There’s Silas.” Nate waved to a man climbing out a mint-green sedan.

  Their friend was built like a fire-plug. His stomach strained the material of a tangerine colored shirt, and his short bowled legs sported pants in a violent shade of teal. The colorful wardrobe evidently reflected an ebullient personality judging by the wide grin that split his brown face as he waved back enthusiastically.

  Nate made apologies to Angelica. “We have to get going.”

  “You guys go on ahead. Be with you in a sec,” Mitch said, eyeballing the bombshell’s boobs like the key to the Rosetta stone was written on them.

  “It was nice meeting you, Tessa.” Angelica gave a friendly finger wave. “Maybe we can all have drinks onboard?”

  Tessa smiled, it would be great to have some female company besides her constant guards of Mitch and Nate. “I’d like that,” she cal
led over her shoulder as Nate hustled her away.

  There was a lot of macho backslapping and bear hugs as Nate met with Silas. Tessa was introduced and was thoroughly charmed by an old-fashioned kiss on her hand. Then another round of backslapping and greetings in rapid-fire local patois commenced when Mitch joined them.

  Finally they piled into Silas’s taxi and started the journey up to the hills to meet the mysterious Templeton.

  Chapter Eleven

  Twenty minutes later, Tessa was staring out the cab window at the lush tropical foliage that bordered each side of the twisty hillside road. Through the greenery, she spied a broken patchwork of rooftops, ranging from terracotta red tiles to the metallic grays and rusts of zinc sheeting. And interspersed between them were the bright white-washed church steeples that peppered the sweeping slope down to the shore.

  Farther out, turquoise waters deepened to a rich sapphire and above that the cloudless azure sky stretched as far as the eye could see. Tessa would have lost herself in the view, if it weren’t for the fact that she was about to meet her maker any second now in a fiery skidding plunge off the cliff-side road.

  With a sharp gasp, she grabbed the headrest of the seat in front of her as Silas took another hairpin turn without slowing down. Mitch looked over his shoulder at her and winked, his straight white teeth on prominent display.

  Alarmingly, in what had to be a misguided attempt at reassurance, Silas turned to her also. Thereby taking his eyes off the road.

  “Not to fret, pretty lady. I travel dis road many, many times.”

  She stared straight ahead—after all, someone had to watch where the car was hurtling towards—and dug her fingernails into the battered upholstery. Only when he turned back to the steering wheel did her pulse slow a smidgen.

  “Silas won’t let anything happen to you,” Mitch offered.

  With Silas beaming at her through the rearview mirror, Tessa allowed a small smile to stretch her lips. Mitch was right. Silas wouldn’t be careless enough to let anything happen.

  His driving was much more deliberate than that.

  Silas seemed hell-bent on making sure every broken spring in the car’s seat poked her in the ass, and every bend in the road supplied her with a fresh reason to vomit up this morning’s breakfast and finger paint her last will and testament in the results.

  Taking a deep breath, she drew some strands of hair away from her mouth and tucked them behind her ear with a surprisingly steady hand. The breeze from the open window quickly undid her efforts. Nate reached out and repeated her movements, tucking the stands behind her ear again, his finger lightly tracing the shell down to the lobe and across her cheek. He had as much success as she had, but the imprint of his touch burned against her skin.

  Tessa shot a glance at him from behind her dark lenses. Despite the heat and Silas’s carnival-ride driving, Nate sprawled with cool, unaffected elegance beside her in his white linen shirt and loose fitting jeans. The shirt made a startling contrast against his deep tan and his long legs crowded hers in the limited space.

  With sunglasses propped upon his head, he stared back at her with a brooding expression that had become familiar over the last few days. She swallowed, quickly looking away.

  When Silas took a particularly treacherous turnoff from the main road, a miracle was wrought and he slowed the car down to a speed befitting its dilapidated stature. Finally, he pulled up to a pair of gates that shared the same lineage of the car—rusted and ancient.

  “How about taking us up to the house?” Mitch asked.

  “I’se not going no farther, boss. You can walk the rest of the way to Doctor-man house.” Silas’s expression became serious and his gaze darted to the rosary wrapped around the rearview mirror.

  “No worries.” Nate passed some cash to the older man. “Come back in two hours?”

  A quick flick through the fold of bills had Silas grinning again. “Yeah, man. I do anything for guys.”

  “Anything except take us to the damn house,” Mitch said dryly.

  “Bwoy, get out of this car right this minute. Else you might need to find another way back to the boat.” Silas’s scowl was ruined by the twinkle in his eyes.

  After the men exchanged a few more jibs, Silas took off, leaving Tessa and the guys at the roadside.

  “Shall we?” Mitch jerked his head towards the gates.

  Nate swept his arm in front of him and Mitch took the lead with Nate and Tessa following.

  Brilliant tropical flowers crowded onto the wide gravel path, their blooms as big as a man’s fists, while the fronds of giant ferns almost made an obstacle course of the walkway.

  She shivered. It was getting closer to noon but the sun’s heat barely penetrated the surrounding growth. Under normal circumstances a break from the soaring temperature would be welcomed. Here it felt, well…not quite right. Overhead some exotic bird cawed at intervals, punctuating the crunch, crunch, crunch of their steps as they walked on. Tessa looked down, seized with the childish impulse to kick at the noisy gravel. Instead she came to a standstill with a choked-off gasp.

  She sank to her haunches and reached out with a trembling hand. Scattered across the ground like little broken sticks bleached white with jagged ends were…countless…endless…tiny bones.

  “What is this place?”

  “Templeton is a companion of our kind. You have nothing to fear here,” Nate answered.

  “Unless you’re chicken.” Mitch hunkered down beside her and picked up a small bone. “You know…?” He started clucking.

  “How’d you like to have your chicken-clucking butt deep fried?”

  “Not my kink, baby. Besides, I’m not the one you want to pluck. Ain’t that right?”

  He smirked and threw the bone over his shoulder.

  Tessa stood. Asshole. “Shall we go?” She started walking.

  The ghastly crunches began again and Tessa found her gaze sweeping from side to side, taking in the bones upon bones upon bones.

  “I know it’s kind of creepy, but they’re here for protection,” Nate offered.

  “Has your friend ever thought of getting a dog?”

  “A dog wouldn’t provide the type of protection Templeton specializes in. The bones are part of a ward.”

  Tessa looked at him, confused.

  “Templeton isn’t a shape-shifter. He’s a healer, amongst other things. For shifters, what he does is unique and highly skilled. What he does for the norms—” Nate indicated ground, “—is a little more faith-based.”

  He was talking in riddles. Tessa wanted to question him more closely, but they were closer to the house now, and what she’d thought were strange looking plants overrunning the front-yard—high stalks with wilting blooms—turned out to be wooden sticks that had bits of colorful cloth tied to them. Jars of various sizes holding the melted remnants of candles sat at the base of many of the sticks. There were also scraps of paper nailed to some of the wooden staffs.

  Tessa stopped. Cold trickled down her back. “What is this place?” she asked again.

  “A place of dreams.” A lilting voice came from somewhere to her left.

  She turned and saw a small bird-like man weaving his way through the yard’s odd landscaping. He was as dark as the shadows he’d emerged from, with hair little more than a dusting of silvery curls on his scalp and eyes of a pale indeterminate color.

  “This, my darling, is where dreams come to seek shelter, to grow or to die, or to become something else.” His broad smile was gentle and invited confidences.

  “I’ll tell you a little truth that many people choose to disbelieve, at their peril.” He opened his arms wide to indicate the eerie forest of rags and wood. “Dreams only flourish in here.” He tapped his chest with a gnarled finger. “That’s where the root is. Uproot the plant and you’re left with the dead stalk.” He grasped one of the poles in his hand and gave it a little shake, his expression full of amusement.

  “Tessa, this is Templeton.” Nate introduced th
em.

  “Pleased to make your acquaintance, mistress.” Templeton bowed his head.

  She mumbled, “Hi,” not sure how she felt making his acquaintance. He just smiled his Mona-Lisa smile in reply before giving the men his full attention.

  “We need some more moonberries,” Mitch said after the exchange of greetings was complete.

  “Oh, I have plenty. Good crop this season, berries and anything else you want. Come round back, I just made some fresh mango juice.”

  Tessa walked between Nate and Mitch, single file, towards the rear of the house via a narrow path through the overgrowth of plants.

  “The Matriarch’s Kiss is doing well.” Mitch pointed to a patch of thorny weeds with tiny bright orange buds.

  “I wasn’t too sure ’bout them, with the heat and all, but they’s not doing too bad under the banana trees.” Templeton looked over his shoulder. “I’ll give you some before you leave—but mind, not too much or it stops the heart.”

  Tessa studied the plant closely, and the others that the men stopped to discuss. The vegetation, like the men, seemed almost normal, if a bit exotic.

  Finally they came to the back of the house. A little ways off, deeper into the yard, stood a crude shelter consisting of three walls, a tin roof and a dirt-packed floor. The structure was brightly painted in primary colors with strange symbols written on the walls. Several rudimentary benches were placed underneath the canopy and set up along the far wall was what looked like some sort of altar.

  A tree stump with a hatchet sunk into its heart sat off to the side. The earth around the stump was dark and wet, a deep, muddy red and scatted with feathers. Compared to the lushness of the surrounding garden, nothing grew in that patch of earth.

  “You look concerned, my dear.”

  Tessa looked at the seemingly ageless man. “Are you some kind of witchdoctor?”

  “Witchdoctor, obeah-man, doctor-man, voodoo priest, healer, companion, advisor, confidant, therapist… I am anything you want me to be.” He still wore his gentle smile. “Are you afraid?”