you say.”
Tombi couldn’t let it go. He’d become a jaded man, not by birth disposition, but because of the deaths and trapped spirits he’d witnessed over the past ten years. He and his tribe tried to release all the ensnared souls, but they kept growing in number. Secretly, he despaired there was no stopping Nalusa’s increasing spread of misery. How was he supposed to trust this girl—this witch who mysteriously appeared in the dead of night in the swamp and claimed to speak to Bo?
Annie made a disgusted clucking noise and noisily set about tidying the kitchen. “Don’t drink the tea, then. Suffer. Means nothing to me.”
She dried some silverware and threw it in a drawer, where it clanged. “If anyone’s scared, it should be me.”
“Scared? I’m not scared.” For spirit’s sake, he faced creatures of the dark on a daily basis.
She stared pointedly at his half-filled mug and raised an eyebrow. “Really?”
Tombi lifted it to his lips and took another experimental sip. The liquid had cooled considerably. He raised the mug in a salutatory gesture. “To good health.” He downed the whole mess in four gulps.
Great Spirits almighty, that was nasty stuff.
Annie threw the dish towel in the sink and stared at him. “Your skin is starting to get a little pale and clammy,” she noted. “Perspiration’s beading on your forehead. You sure you’re okay? Maybe I poisoned you after all.”
Tombi lifted his right arm a few inches, then dropped it by his side. He’d almost given her the satisfaction of touching his forehead to check.
“Your jaw is twitching, too.”
“It tends to do that when I’m annoyed.”
“Better annoyed than worried sick like I am.” Annie glanced out the kitchen window, and her body slumped, as if the fight and anger had melted from her spine and left her in a pool of misery.
Damn. He fought the guilt that pestered his gut. He didn’t ask that old lady to save him. “Look, Annie, I’m sorry about your grandma.”
She waved a hand dismissively, back still toward him.
“Maybe you should go to the hospital,” he drawled, reluctant to encourage her but compelled to show compassion. Tia Henrietta had saved his life; he owed her.
“She’d kill me. She specifically begged me not to.”
“Did she say why?”
Annie sighed. “She seems to think you are some kind of hero or something.”
“I wish she hadn’t taken the poison,” Tombi offered.
She faced him and tilted her head to one side. “Did she say something to you right before the ambulance came? I saw you lean over the couch where she lay.”
He shuffled in his seat and shrugged his shoulders. “She moaned, and I got closer to see if she was trying to talk. But she was mostly incoherent.”
Mostly.
The word and its meaning seemed to slip by Annie. Thank the spirits.
“She has a weak heart. I don’t see how she can recover from this.” Her eyes were a reproach.
Tombi frowned, hardening his heart. He couldn’t let his resolve to mistrust all strangers end. He had a mission. His people depended on him. Should he fail... No, he couldn’t go down that dark corridor of possibility in his mind. Bad enough the worry haunted his dreams.
Her voice rose an octave. “And to top it off, you seem to believe I brought all this on myself and my grandma.”
Tombi pursed his lips. “You could have set a trap, not knowing your grandmother would come swooping in to save me at the last possible second.”
“Of all the ungrateful...” she sputtered. “If not for us, you’d be dead or ate up with fever.”
He paused, struck by the fact that he was ready to return to the hunt, full of vigor. “That tea actually helped,” he let slip in surprise.
“Of course it did. You...you...” Again, she was so angry that words failed. She planted her hands on her hip and glared.
He smiled, and she stepped close to him.
“Stop smirking.” Annie pushed against his chest. She was so small, so petite, the top of her head hit him only chest-high.
Instinctively, he grabbed her arms and pulled her closer into him. She smelled mysterious—like herbs and musk and a touch of some flowery scent that was deliciously, dangerously feminine.
He remembered their kiss. Would she ever want to kiss him again—now that she held him responsible for Tia’s illness? Loss and regret swept through him like an errant breeze.
If circumstances were different. If there wasn’t so much at stake. If only... But it did no good to wallow in “ifs.” It wasn’t as if he’d had any choice in the matter of his destiny and duty. His hands still held her forearms, but they loosened—and she didn’t pull away. He hardly dared move for fear of shattering the magic.
The only sound in the room was their joined breathing, hers lighter and more rapid than his. Her chest gently expanded and contracted. And then, oh-so-slowly, they eased their bodies together, and her cheek lay on his chest. Tombi leaned down and rested his chin on the cinnamon warmth of her dark hair.
Outside, the sky darkened. Leaves and moss would begin to rustle in the ancient oaks. Soon, birds of the night would swoop from branch to branch, screeching and spying and reporting back to Nalusa on the hunters’ movements. Ishkitini, the horned owl, was the most ominous bird of prey, because his screech foretold a sudden death or murder. Will-o’-the-wisps would glow and skitter about with the energy of the trapped deceased.
The windowpane’s reflection captured their joined silhouette like a flickering trick of the eye. Nebulous and passing, a fragile thing of impermanence. Tombi closed his eyes and stroked her arms. They were as soft and slender as a robin’s wing.
The phone rang, and she jerked and wiggled out of his embrace, returning to the table to pick up her cell phone.
“How is she?” Annie asked, face set in tense worry. “Uh-huh. That’s good...right?”
Reassured the call wasn’t death news, Tombi let himself out the front door and stood on the porch. She’d appreciate her privacy. The heat and the night pressed down on him, cloying and heavy.
He had to return to the others. His duty was clear. Somehow, he must convince Annie to come with him. This cottage wasn’t safe for a young woman alone. She’d been lured once by a will-o’-the-wisp. It could happen again. Their call was almost impossible to ignore.
And then there were Tia Henrietta’s words. Annie is your destiny. Without her, you fail. And as he’d started to straighten, the old woman’s hand had gripped his with surprising strength. Take care of my granddaughter.
Destiny? Destiny be damned. It was enough that the gods had placed this
