Bayou Wolf

by Debbie Herbert

  Sighing, she slid out of the car. Fala was at home, her old Plymouth Duster sat in the driveway. Tallulah tugged at the waistband of her shirt and marched to the front door. It swung open before she even had a chance to knock.

  “What are you doing here?” Fala asked, eyes narrowed.

  Same old Fala. “Nice to see you, too. May I come in?”

  The old woman crossed her arms and hesitated, frowning.

  Tallulah bit back a sharp retort. The last few years had not been kind to Bo’s mother. More gray streaked her raven-black hair and the lines on her face had deepened. But the sharp beak of her nose and her dark, suspicious eyes were more accentuated, making her appear even more like her aptly named Choctaw moniker—crow.

  And like a crow she just pecked, pecked, pecked away at people until they abandoned her. Like Bo’s father had done.

  Tallulah sat on the faded, floral-print sofa. In high school, she’d sat in this very spot with Bo, dressed in a formal prom gown as Fala took pictures, gushing over her handsome Bo and ignoring his unworthy date.

  “No reason for you to come around now my boy is gone.” Fala sank into a chair opposite her. “We were never on good terms.”

  “I did try.” Tallulah’s gaze swept the den. Nothing had changed. Photos of Bo hung everywhere. She stood and walked over to her favorite—Bo at age five, pulling back a child-sized slingshot, a huge grin splitting his face.

  “Whatcha looking at?” Fala snapped. “Those are my pictures and I’m not giving you any.”

  “I didn’t ask for one.” She pointed at the faded black-and-white photo. “I was just admiring this one.”

  “My Bohpoli was well-named. He was the best shooter in the shadow hunters.”

  Tallulah went back to the sofa, hiding a small smile. Bo had always hated his name. It meant “thrower” in Choctaw, but over the years the name came to be associated with the Little People, or fairies, of the bayou.

  “He was the best,” she agreed.

  Fala’s prickly manner softened a degree. “Why are you here?” she asked again, though not unkindly.

  She bit down on her lip to stop the trembling. Part of her wanted to run out the door and forget the whole thing. Her breath hitched. She wouldn’t embarrass herself by trying to talk. Slowly, Tallulah slid the diamond ring off her right ring finger and then held it up. She had worn it one last time for this special visit. The small, solitaire diamond gleamed like a lit candelabra.

  She held it out to Fala. “This belongs to you. Bo told me it was your mother’s wedding ring and I want to return it.”

  Fala’s head snapped back as if she’d been slapped. “Why? It wasn’t good enough for you?”

  Anger and hurt churned her gut. No one could push her buttons quite like Fala. Be patient for one more minute and you can walk out. “I treasured it,” she said levelly. “But it doesn’t feel right to keep it when it belongs to your family.”

  Fala’s eyes flashed. “That’s not it. You’ve been running around with a new guy in town. I still get out and about. I hear things.”

  “Bo’s been dead over two years,” she said drily. “Not like I’m cheating on him.”

  Fala snatched the ring out of her fingers. “If you don’t want it, I’ll take it.”

  “It’s yours. You’re welcome.”

  So much for gratitude. Fala might not appreciate the gesture, but it was something she needed to do. Bo would want her to move on and this was a final, symbolic step. Payton was her future now, if he chose to stay.

  Tallulah stood, ready to take her leave. “I’ll see myself out,” she remarked drily.

  At the door, she took a deep breath, saying good-bye to Bo’s old childhood home. No need to ever return. Bittersweet, but it felt right.

  “Wait.”

  Fala removed a photo from its frame and held it out. “For you.”

  It was the young Bo with his slingshot and impish grin. Her eyes watered as she felt a strange brew of happiness and sadness. Reverently, she tucked it into her purse. “Thank you.”

  On an impulse, she hugged a surprised Fala. The woman held her arms rigidly at her side, but that was okay. All her love had been wrapped up in Bo. He was the only one who brought out a warm side to Fala. Tallulah pulled away, but Bo’s mom lifted an arm and awkwardly patted her shoulder.

  Fala cleared her throat and stepped back. “Chi pisa lachike. I’ll see you soon.”

  There was no literal Choctaw word for “good-bye,” but they both knew this was an ending.

  Tallulah hurried out and climbed back in her car, feeling lighter and ready to move on with the day’s errands. Back in town, she drove past the same old shops, as familiar to her as the bayou woods, with the occasional new one cropping up. She pulled her vehicle into the Pixie Land shop, the newest business in Bayou La Siryna. It was small and quirky with its collection of mermaid and fairy figurines for sale, but the store had thrived surprisingly well. Local residents’ tastes obviously ran to the unusual.

  The scent of the ocean, underpinned with a woodsy herbal note, enveloped Tallulah as she entered. The proprietor, Chulah’s wife, could stay in business just by selling the cologne and bath oils that replicated the aroma.

  Long blond hair, with subtle pink and purple highlights, glowed in a way that no commercial product could ever deliver to human tresses, April Rivers spotted her and glided over in a graceful sweep, her long skirt swishing.

  “If you weren’t so sweet, I would just hate you,” Tallulah said in greeting.

  No wonder Chulah adored April. Even if she were a fairy from another dimension, the two made it work. She tried to take heart from that. Tombi and Annie were also opposites in personalities and supernatural gifts, and yet it only served to beautifully complement their relationship.

  If only she could be so lucky with Payton.

  April laughed. “What brings you here today?” Even her voice was melodic. Damn it. Tallulah glanced in a store mirror. They were as opposite as brilliant sunlight and a deep black abyss. Yet, at one time, Chulah had actually wanted her—Tallulah. Until one fine day April had wandered out of the bayou woods and stolen his heart.

  Even though she’d long ago turned down Chulah’s marriage proposal, Tallulah often wondered what her life would have been like had she accepted. She didn’t love him like Payton, but he was one of her best friends growing up. A steady, reliable kind of guy.

  “Why so sad?” April asked, putting an arm around her. “Did you have an argument with Payton?”

  A guilty flush heated her neck. She had no right to be thinking of Chulah. “No. But he leaves in less than a week.”

  “He’s really going to leave with the rest of the crew?”

  The slight forehead furrow in April’s creamy skin only made her look more adorable.

  Tallulah shrugged, as if it didn’t matter. “Maybe.”

  “Surely not.” April withdrew her arm and tapped an elegant finger on her full, rosy lips. “Have you ever thought of moving with him?”

  “Leave Bayou La Siryna?” The idea had never once crossed her mind.

  “Much as you and the other shadow hunters love this place, it’s not exactly the center of the universe,” she pointed out mildly.

  “Would you rather live someplace else, April?”

  “Not at all. It’s always been my home, too—of a sort. But Payton isn’t from these parts, he doesn’t have roots tying him down.”

  “But I do.”

  Move from the bayou? Away from the land of her ancestors and her life’s calling to hunt the ancient, evil spirits?

  “Something to consider,” April said mildly. “I chose to be with Chulah and left my fae realm.”

  “But the other fae hated you,” she blurted. “No tough choice there.”

  “It still mea
nt leaving my own kind and a world I was familiar with—even for all its imperfections.”

  Her mouth twisted. “Guess you have a point,” she admitted with an ungracious sigh.

  “From everything you and Chulah told me, Matt is probably a father figure to Payton. And we have no idea what the bond is like for a pack member. It might be deeply ingrained in his DNA to live with other wolves. At one time in years past, their lives depended on group habitation.”

  “You always make so much sense.” Tallulah huffed and crossed her arms. “I won’t argue with your logic. But Payton can’t keep me hanging forever. It’s not fair. I told him if he leaves me and moves away for the next job, that’s it. We’re done.”

  “Perfectly logical,” April agreed. “But sometimes one person in a relationship has to give more than the other. And it’s not fair. But don’t you want to be happy?”

  She shook her head. “Are you saying I should offer to move away with Payton? It’s not like he’s even asked me to.”

  “Probably figures you would say no. Or that it wouldn’t be fair to ask you to give up your lifestyle.”

  “You think I should go with him. That I’m asking too much when I gave him an ultimatum to pick me or his pack.” Tallulah placed her hands on her hips and scowled, uncomfortable with the doubts April had raised in her righteous anger against Payton.

  “Not at all.” April smiled. “Just pointing out a few issues for you to consider. You do what’s best for you.”

  Thankfully, her temper didn’t affect April’s happy bubble of equilibrium. She looked around at the store’s shelves, idly searching. “I’ve got a ton of errands to run today, including picking out a gift for Nita’s birthday. I understand she’s horse-crazy. You have anything besides fairies and mermaid stuff in here?”

  “Of course I do,” she replied, turning and heading to the back left corner of the store. “Nita’s the young girl wanting to join the shadow hunters, isn’t she?”

  “Bingo.” She marveled at the colorful, delicate merchandise on display as she followed April. Even though Tallulah been a tomboy as a child and a warrior as an adult, there was something magical about everything April purchased and touched.

  Once, she’d laughingly asked April where the store’s stock was manufactured. “Are there fairy factories cranking out collectibles?” April had only smiled mysteriously and shrugged.

  “Here we are.” April pulled something down from a high shelf and turned around. “Think Nita would like this?”

  “Oh. My. Word.”

  April held a large war-horse mustang molded from resin. On top of it rode a Native American woman, also molded from resin, and dressed in full regalia. Her face was beautifully fierce and captivating.

  “I’ll take two.”

  April winked. “I love when people buy a gift for someone and then another for themselves.”

  Tallulah exited the Pixie Land store carrying the heavy figurines—minus a wad of cash in her wallet. They were worth every penny. Quickly, she locked them in the trunk of her car, gathered her dry cleaning to drop off, and walked down Main Street. The streets were crowded as many of the shops set out their wares for a sidewalk sale. Next to the dry cleaners, raucous yipping and meowing noises sounded from a few people dragging reluctant pets to the veterinarian’s office.

  A scent of fur and musk slammed into her awareness. This wasn’t from one of the domesticated animals about to see the vet. And it wasn’t the faint, masculine scent that was part of Payton’s intoxicating scent.

  This was pungent, warped...off. She’d smelled it only once before.

  Russell.

  But where? The crowd all looked local and vaguely familiar. She quickly scanned bodies and faces, ruling out children and women. No Russell. Her scalp prickled as she spotted the back of a man wearing a dark brown uniform and swinging a large, pump canister. He was the same height as Russell, same medium brown hair. She scurried after him, dry cleaning forgotten. The man picked up his pace, weaving through a throng of customers picking among discounted clothing racks.

  The scent left a trail behind him. He slipped into an alley and there was an explosion of metal on pavement.

  Tallulah ran, reaching the side street moments later. The pump canister rolled harmlessly in the narrow alley, but the man had vanished. Unless he was hiding behind one of the large garbage bins scattered about haphazardly. She walked silently—nose, eyes and ears alert for signs of life.

  An explosion of claws clattered at the far end of the alley. A wolf sprang from behind a bin, toting brown pants and a brown shirt in its mouth. A flash of brown fur, and it vanished on the far end.

  Her heart beat loud and strong and her senses fired up in a primitive desire to pursue, as strong as if she’d encountered one of the ancient spirits from the woods roaming in the late afternoon sun.

  Tallulah dropped her armload of clothes and ran down the alley, emerging into the next block of shops and offices. A young couple with a barking dog on a leash pointed down another side road. She ran again, only in time to see a flash of wolf tail racing toward the tree line at the edge of town. Too late. Two legs couldn’t compete with four.

  Her chest heaved from breathing hard—part exertion, part fear. “Damn it,” she muttered.

  “Did you see that huge dog?” the woman yelled above the cacophony of her dog’s howls.

  “Yeah, I saw it all right.” She headed back to the alley to gather her belongings.

  The man walking the dog with her shook his head, a dazed expression on his face. “Could have sworn it was a wolf.”

  “Shouldn’t be wolves in south Alabama,” she said to them in passing. But werewolves—oh my, yes.

  Russell was back.

  * * *

  Tallulah hit the accelerator, driving well over the downtown speed limit. She had to warn Payton and the others. Matt certainly wouldn’t be happy to see her, much less hear the news. But it had to be done. Of all the worst timing for Russell to appear... But, of course, Russell knew that—had probably been slinking around, watching and waiting. Hell-bent on revenge.

  The pack had gathered for a full-moon wolf run. They’d become testy and temperamental after months of suppressing their animal urge to roam as a pack. But, at last, they felt it safe to run as one. Sheriff Angier had relaxed his patrol over the weeks. With no more dead bodies and no proof that Jeb had been murdered, he’d been forced to turn the majority of his attention back to other crimes.

  So Matt had at last granted a return to their old ways. The pack was holding a supper meeting now to go over safety precautions, and the need to try and avoid shadow hunters who might be in the area.

  At first, she’d been resentful of Payton’s happiness on being included, but if the pack moved on without him next week, this could be his last pack run. She could hardly begrudge him that opportunity.

  She checked her phone for the umpteenth time—still no reply from Payton to her texts and voice mails. Tallulah slammed her fist on the dashboard. “Idiot!” she screamed. Arrogant, control-freak Matt had probably demanded the pack turn off their cell phones while he lectured them on the need for safety tonight.

  The irony didn’t escape her.

  Tires squealed as she rounded a curve too fast and bumped over a curb. Too late, she saw the line of cars stopped at a traffic light. She slammed on her brakes, but realized it wouldn’t keep her from rear-ending the other vehicle. At once, she turned the steering wheel sharply to the right, hoping to avoid a collision.

  Metal crunched metal. She’d managed to avoid a fender bender with the other vehicle, but had demolished a US mailbox in the process. Freaking terrific. Like magic, a siren wailed nearby. With a sigh, she removed her driver’s license out of her wallet for the cop, and got out of the car to inspect the damage.

  Forty-five minutes later, she
hit the road again, driving at a much more sedate rate until she reached the county road to the farmhouse. The cops never bothered with speed traps in this remote area so she sped up. Now that she was close to the house, doubt suddenly assailed her confidence.

  Was it really necessary to crash their meeting? Matt wouldn’t be thrilled, and Payton might be annoyed. They already knew Russell was a potential threat until—or if—he was captured. If only she’d had her slingshot with her today. She could have injured Russell and called Sheriff Angier to arrest him.

  You couldn’t have known, she chided herself. Wasn’t like she’d ever before needed to carry weapons on a downtown shopping trip.

  Up ahead, the usual hodgepodge of cars and trucks littered the driveway and front lawn of the large farmhouse. Payton’s faded red Chevy truck was there. Slowly, she pulled into the driveway and parked. More doubts assailed her. If all these men stayed together tonight, what could Russell really do? His real beef was with her, Payton and Matt. And they each knew it. She drummed her fingers on the dashboard, debating.

  What the hell. If she ticked off Matt, so be it. Payton could hardly get too annoyed for her interruption. She had their best interests at heart.

  Resolutely, she flung open the car door and started up the driveway. Payton’s truck motor made a faint clanking sound, as if he’d arrived to the pack meeting late—only minutes ahead of her. So Payton was okay. The tight knot in her stomach unwound.

  Halfway up the sidewalk entry, she noticed a brown van parked at the side of the house. That didn’t look familiar. Curious, she walked across the lawn for a closer look.

  A business name was painted on its side in a bold yellow font—Clean Sweep Pest Control.

  Chills crept along her nerves like a clutter of spiders. Could Russell’s brown uniform have been that of an exterminator’s? She’d instantly assumed he’d worn a janitorial outfit.