by Megan Hart
He picked up a saw and shook his head. “Not now. I have a couple client appointments today. Tell her I’ll drop by again this evening.”
“Suit yourself.” Annie headed to her car, conscious of him watching her. She turned her face slightly to the side. Sure enough, he stood, saw in hand, staring at her ass. Her own lips upturned in a knowing smile as she climbed into her vehicle. She had the power to break through his remote facade whenever she wished.
Was it wrong to hunger for more? There must be something she could do to gain his respect, to make him see she could be a stronger ally. Some way to defeat Nalusa. As long as Nalusa lived and controlled the wisps and the birds of the night, Tombi wasn’t free to live a normal life. His need for revenge consumed him.
“Be careful,” Tombi called out.
Annie started the car and headed for the county road, her mind filled with possibilities. For starters, she could return to the cottage and study the grimoires she’d culled from Grandma Tia’s collection. Maybe there was something there. She glanced at the dashboard clock. She had time for a little reading before visiting her grandma. Annie gunned the motor and arrived at the cottage quickly, filled with optimism. Must be some reason Grandma Tia communicated about the grimoires while she was in the coma, even if she didn’t now remember why or how she’d done so.
Inside, she lit candles and settled at the kitchen table. She pulled the top one off the stack and opened it. Metallic ink shimmered on the pages with its flecks of crimson, forest green and ocean blue. The crinkling as she turned the page seemed an unnaturally loud rustle, as if a pile of dead leaves were stirred by a stiff breeze.
A sudden scent enveloped her awareness. An earthy, bitter greens top note sweetened with rich, dark undertones. Annie inhaled and analyzed the enticing mixture—it contained licorice, vanilla and myrrh. She’d noticed it before around the cottage, often when Grandma Tia performed a ritual calling on the guidance of an ancestor.
“Who are you?” she whispered, her skin tingling. The scent grew stronger, as if a spirit drew closer. Annie waited, hardly daring to breathe, but no other sign was offered. “Thank you for coming,” she said, louder, more confident this time. She’d asked for help, and it looked as if she was getting it.
She ran her fingers down the cracked spine of the old grimoire. This book was the one. It whispered promises and answers. The strong premonition settled in her gut while her heart raced.
Primitive music sounded—so faint she wasn’t sure she heard it at first. Annie strained and deciphered the vibration of a drum that provided a base to a flute. The music was subtly different from what Tombi played—there were fewer notes, less range of pitch, less sophistication. But instead of deterring from the sound quality, it made it more unique and poignant.
The pages began turning without any assistance, like an invisible hand leafing through the tome. It was like the time when she was twelve and playing with her grandma’s Ouija board without permission. An unseen force had moved the planchette across the alphabet, spelling a slightly sinister message. Even now, Annie preferred tarot cards and crystals to seek help from beyond.
This time felt different, not sinister at all. As if the unseen hand was pointing toward a solution. Besides, an ancestor was in the room with her, one that smelled of strong femininity grounded by the earth.
The rustling stopped. Reverently, Annie pulled the grimoire closer and started reading. Excitement charged her body like an electrical shock at the story of an old Choctaw tale involving Nalusa Falaya and how his spirit was bound in an ancient ritual performed by the strongest warriors in the tribe.
Why had Tombi never mentioned this ritual? Annie tapped an index finger against her lips and gazed out the kitchen window, deep in thought. Maybe he hadn’t heard of it, or maybe he did know about it and didn’t believe it would work. Worry wiggled into her consciousness. Or maybe he knew there was a ritual, and he hoped to enlist her cooperation to perform it with him. And if that was the case, perhaps he didn’t mention it hoping that in time she would become so bound to him through their relationship, she wouldn’t refuse the request when he made it.
Annie shook her head, refusing to let negativity cloud her brain with such questions. If Tombi was trying to control her through a relationship, he’d be telling her he loved her and promising her the moon instead of keeping his distance.
She continued reading. In order for the containing ritual to work, the tribe leader needed to summon Nalusa with their sacred flute, crafted with the spirits’ help. It was ancient, originally created at the time of Nalusa’s first rise to power.
Chills tingled up and down Annie’s spine. It all came together. Bo’s words to find the music contained in the wind. The image of a flute Grandma Tia communicated from her bedside at the hospital.
Find that flute, and they would have the key to defeat Nalusa and his shadow creatures.
Kee-eeeee-ar. A hoarse screeching erupted as a large, rust-colored bird flew close against the windowpane and then jettisoned away in a flurry of beating wings. Kee-eeeee-ar.
Beating wings. Just like in her dreams. Annie jumped up and ran to the front door and down the porch steps, but the bird flew into the woods and disappeared. Some animal spirit guide; it did nothing but startle her. A small glint of dusty red and a shiver of movement by the kitchen window caught her eye. She walked across the grass and picked up a feather lying on the sill, fancying it still felt warm to the touch.
A memento from her bird, her guide. She held it in her hands, awed at the physical evidence left behind. Maybe it was like a courtship—every day it would draw closer and reveal more of its nature. Was there some way to thank it for appearing?
She scurried inside and returned with several pieces of bread. She crumbled them in her hands and cast them on the yard. “A little something for you,” she called out toward the woods. She liked to think the bird was out there, watching—watching and protecting her from the birds of the night and snakes that crept nearby unawares, coiled to strike with deadly venom.
Annie spun in a dizzy circle of happiness, her heart lightened with optimism and hope. Even if Tombi was consumed with revenge and headed for a showdown with the bayou shadow world, she had not only an ancestor spirit guide, but also an animal guide helping her seek a way to defeat the evil. First, she would conquer evil and prove her trust and worthiness, and then she’d make headway into Tombi’s heart and future.
She might just discover a real love.
Over halfway to the hospital, it struck Annie that she hadn’t even considered her own need to control her hearing. If she hadn’t already lost her heart to Tombi, she was damn close.
* * *
Annie burst through his door and found him in the kitchen. Her eyes glowed with excitement, and her aura burst with energy. “Let’s go on a hunt tonight.”
What the hell had gotten into her? She hated hunting, the stumbling around in the dark and the fear of encountering a snake. Not that Tombi could blame her; she’d witnessed the worst of the worst after Nalusa had almost killed him and her grandmother. He set his glass of tea on the counter. “What brought about this change of heart?”
“I may have found a way to defeat Nalusa.” She lifted up an old, thick book with aged, yellow paper poking out of its sides, and rocked on her tiptoes, grinning as she awaited his reaction.
Yeah, right. She’d never heard of Nalusa until last week, and now she had a plan to defeat the king of the shadow world? After he and the other trained hunters had been trying for years with no success? He crossed his arms and leaned against the counter. This should be amusing.
“Aren’t you dying to hear?”
“Shoot,” he said, lips curving into an indulgent smile.
“It’s true. Grandma Tia and my great-great-great-great-grandmother, Belle Hamilton, led me to a possible way.”
“I
think you added a couple of extra greats in there. It would make her close to a couple hundred years old.”
Annie blinked. “I didn’t say she was alive. Anyway, we need to find the ancient flute that your ancestors used to keep Nalusa’s power contained.”
“Ah, so you heard that old tale. Surprising, though—it’s not a generally known story.” He nodded at the book she clutched in front of her. “I guess the story’s in there.”
The sparkle in her chocolate eyes dwindled. “You already knew about it,” she accused. “You might have mentioned it.”
“What’s to tell? I’ve never figured there was any truth to it.”
“But...but why not? It’s a recorded legend by the Choctaws.”
“And so are stories of the Kowi anuskasha—knee-high fairy creatures said to roam the bayou and play tricks on humans. I don’t believe in them, either.”
“It’s worth a try.”
“Only one problem. There is no such flute. Or if there ever was one, it’s long since vanished.”
“There must be. I heard it playing.”
His heartbeat pounded in his ears, like the roar of a million insects on a rain-dampened summer night. This couldn’t be. “Say that again.”
“I heard the flute. Remember the grimoire Grandma Tia told me to find when she was in the coma? Well, I started reading it when all of a sudden I smelled this distinctive scent that was familiar. I couldn’t place it, but when I visited Tia at the hospital she said it was my great-great—”
“Great-great-grandmother,” he cut in impatiently. “Tell me the part where you hear the flute.”
She frowned but continued on. “Anyway, as I was reading about the legend, the notes of a Native American flute drifted up from the pages. It sounded more primitive than yours. I even know what it looks like.” She tapped the aged book. “There’s a drawing and a description in here.”
Excitement buzzed along his spine. “Let me see.”
Annie opened it to a page marked with a red thread and pointed. “Right there.”
He carefully took the book, afraid the fragile tome would crumble at rough handling. Tombi scanned the elegant cursive handwriting with its unusual glimmering ink and the dried brown bits of old flowers stuffed in its pages. Halfway down the right page was a drawing of the flute. A design was burned into the cane wood, but a long turkey feather tied at the base obscured the carving.
“Do you have it here in your bookcase?” she asked breathlessly.
He frowned at the description—it could belong to almost any of the reed instruments he’d collected over the years. Of course, the feather would have rotted away by now or have been switched out over the years. Tombi made his way to the den and stood in front of his music collection. Each one had given him so much peace over the years, had inspired him to learn to play and even craft several of his own flutes.
“Did you find these yourself?” Annie asked by his side.
“No. Tallulah works at the local museum, and she alerts me whenever they host a fund-raising auction. That’s how I got most of these artifacts, except for the odd pottery shard or arrowhead.”
Four of the flutes were made of cane wood and about the length described in Annie’s book. He picked them up and showed them to Annie. “Do you think it could be one of these?”
Annie closed her eyes and lifted cupped palms. “Hand me each of them, one at a time.”
He did so, despising the flash of hope that flared in his gut. It’s going to be another dead end. But his gut didn’t listen to his mind, and it burned on with unrestrained optimism. He carefully placed one of the flutes in her palms. Annie slowly shook her head “no,” a gesture she repeated until he placed the final one in her hands, his hope at last in tatters.
Seconds—or an eternity—passed. “No. This isn’t it, either.”
Told you so, his inner voice mocked. Tombi put the flutes back on the shelf. “Well, that was fun.”
“Are you giving up that easily?”
“You got any other ideas?”
“For starters, we can go to the ancestral land where it says the artifact is stored, see if we can find it.”
“It’s been tried, not just by me, but also many other hunters over the years. Face it, the flute is long gone—if it ever existed. I think it’s all bullshit.”
“You’re wrong. I know it. I wouldn’t have been sent messages if it weren’t real. The least we can do is search again. Maybe it’s mysteriously turned up?”
Annie was so enthusiastic, so full of optimism. He’d been like that once, so many years ago he’d forgotten what it felt like. Life would crush her spirits eventually, too, but he wouldn’t be the one to do it. “Okay. We’ll go look. But I’m warning you that the chance of it turning up is extremely remote. But hunting together at night will be good practice for you.”
“Part of my training for the next full moon’s hunt?”
“Exactly. Plus, it’s an opportunity for Bo to speak with you again.”
She clasped her hands together. “He might know where the flute’s hidden.”
“We’ll go. I hate to put you in danger, but I promise I won’t leave your side.”
“I believe you, especially if you keep your other promise to me.”
He raised a brow. “Which one?”
“I want you to teach me to control my hearing. I know you’re busy with your work, but surely you can spare an hour every day.”
It was only fair. “Let’s do it now.”
Annie bestowed a dazzling smile. “You don’t know how much this means to me.”
“Again, don’t think this will be easy or a guaranteed success,” Tombi cautioned. “I’ve never tried to help anyone this way, so it’s all an experiment.”
“I have faith in you.”
Unease twisted him inside. Damn, please, let this work. Couldn’t something go right for once in his life? “Normally, I’d do energy work outside. I have a circle set up with conch shells in the backyard. But right now is too risky. Not when there’s a betrayer in the group and not when Nalusa’s power’s grown so strong he’s been active during daylight.”
“Inside is better for me anyway,” Annie said. “More sound insulation. All the birds and insects drive me nuts, not to mention the rustling leaves and the tide.”
“You hear the ocean way out here?”
“Yes, but it’s not too bad—it’s like a background sound, a white noise that’s with me even in dreams.” She clapped her hands and glanced about the den. “We can set up a circle right here. You do that, and I’ll run upstairs and bring down my altar materials.”
“The witchy stuff isn’t necessary,” he objected.
“I’m so excited right now I can’t even get mad at you for that stupid comment.” She ran up the stairs, paused halfway and leaned over the railing. “Besides, what could it hurt?”
True. He would need all the help he could get. Tombi walked to the backyard, braving the wave of heat, and gathered the conch shells. Back inside, he pushed the furniture to the walls and formed a circle with the shells. At the center, he unrolled a woolen rug woven by one of his cousins years ago. Amid an indigo background, a large golden sun was woven in the middle. The edges of the rug featured a series of intertwined pyramids.
As he lit a sage smudge stick, Annie returned with an armful of candles and statues and arranged them within the circle. Tombi walked to all four corners of the room, calling on his ancestors for their assistance and driving away any negative energy. He was as ready as he’d ever be. He settled on the rug and watched Annie.
She silently prayed at the altar, kneeling, moving her lips. After finishing, she picked up a spray bottle and walked on the outside of the circle, spritzing. The sweet herbal scent of sage melded with a strong floral scent.
�
�What are you spraying?”
“It’s called Florida Water, one of the oldest hoodoo concoctions. It has bergamot, lavender and clove. I also mixed in a few drops of orange, ginger and pine for extra spiritual power.”
They sat across from each other on the floor, cross-legged, letting silence settle in the room. At least, for him, all was quiet. “Do you still hear my energy field sometimes?” he asked, curious.
“Not often. Mostly whenever you let your guard down. Like when you’re asleep at night or...” She blushed. “When we make love.”
Fascinating. “Do I always sound like the flute?”
“No. When we make love you sound like a drum vibrating with the rhythm of your heart.”
He could feel it pulsing now, as it always did when he was close to Annie. The familiarity of having her at his cabin did nothing to dispel his body’s immediate reaction to her nearness. If anything, the link between them grew every day.
“We haven’t talked about it, but the day I was drugged by Nalusa, I heard you in my mind.”
Her eyes widened. “You did?”
“You told me to hold on, that you were near and help was on the way.”
“That’s what I was thinking.”
“There’s an energetic bond between us. My parents said they shared one, and Bo and Tallulah shared one. But it’s a rare thing.”
Annie interlaced her fingers with his own. “I’m honored.” She leaned forward and rested her forehead against his.
He felt oddly vulnerable as he absorbed the tenderness through their contact. “That bond will probably grow much closer after this,” he warned. “Do you still want to try?”
Annie pulled away and nodded solemnly. “Yes. I trust you completely.”
“And I trust you.” Somehow, some way, she’d infiltrated his mind and body and...heart. He cared way too much for Annie. Worry about her safety and concern for her future weighed him down, at a time when he should be totally focused on Nalusa.