Bayou Shadow Protector Read online

  He laughed bitterly. “Are you expecting a thank-you?”

  “No.” April stood and straightened her blouse. “I don’t blame you for hating me now.” She paused, but he didn’t respond. She hung her head. “I know it doesn’t change anything but I’m really sorry. I love you, Chulah.”

  “You don’t know what love is,” he scoffed.

  “Yes, I do.” She reached out a hand as if to touch him, but he glared and she dropped it by her side. “Are we still...you know...working together?”

  Of course that was her first concern. She needed him. They needed the shadow hunters to save their race.

  “Don’t have much choice in that. Seeing as we both want the same thing.”

  She backed away and grabbed her jacket from the back of a chair. “Thank you.”

  “Wouldn’t want you to lose any prestige among your kind.”

  “I don’t care about that anymore.”

  “So you say.”

  She didn’t try to defend herself again. “Goodbye, Chulah.”

  He tried to find a spiteful comfort in her obvious misery, but his heart was bruised along with hers. He turned away and stared at Tombi’s bookcase as she left, softly closing the door behind her.

  The gentle door closure vibrated like a bullet to his heart. A million times worse than Tallulah’s rejection.

  Tombi entered and cuffed his shoulder. “Sorry about that, buddy. Now we know fairies can’t be trusted.”

  “Right.”

  “Don’t let it get you down. It would never have worked out between you and April anyway. Two different worlds.”

  “You heard her. If not for April, I might have saved my dad.”

  “The coroner said the delay probably didn’t matter,” Tombi reminded him. “He had a bad heart.”

  “We’ll never know for sure, will we?”

  “Don’t torture yourself.”

  “Too late. I’ve been doing it for too many years to stop now.” He slapped his hands on his thighs, eager for a distraction. Anything to escape the sting in his heart. “Ready to get to work? We can get organized while we wait on the others to arrive.”

  “If you’re sure you’re up to it,” Tombi said doubtfully.

  “I’m fine.”

  What a lie. But the full moon would rise in two nights and there was work to be done.

  * * *

  Joanna’s heels clacked smartly on the linoleum as she strode into the Pixie Land shop. April put down the inventory paperwork and eyed her warily. The determined frown on her face did not bode well. “Welcome. May I help you, Mrs. Rivers?”

  Chulah’s stepmother slapped her hands on the counter and glared. “What have you done to my boy?”

  So now he was her boy. As if she treated him the same as any of her own children. April’s trepidation vanished. “Glad to hear you’re concerned for his well-being.”

  “Of course I am. Now answer my question. What did you do to him? He’s as tight-lipped as I’ve ever seen him and he’s always been a man of few words.”

  She merely wanted to pry. Protect her moneymaking machine. “If Chulah’s not talking, I’m not sure I should either.”

  Joanna drummed her blunt-tipped fingers on the glass counter. This woman was used to having her way. April took a perverse satisfaction in thwarting her will. A small penance for the way she’d mistreated Chulah over the years.

  “One of you needs to talk so I can fix it.”

  “There’s nothing you can do to fix it, Joanna. As a matter of fact, I’d say this is none of your business.”

  Her frown deepened. “I’m making it my business. Chulah’s grouchy as a bear. ’Bout snapped my head off when I told him my car’s transmission is busted.”

  “Doesn’t one of your other sons have mechanical skills?”

  “Not really. And Chulah can fix it. He even has his own shop.”

  “For motorcycles, not cars.”

  “Whatever,” Joanna said airily.

  “My point is that you have other adult children to help with all your various crises. Yet you always ask Chulah for help.”

  Her jaw dropped an inch before she snapped it shut. “How dare you? You only met him a few weeks ago. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “The hell I don’t. Admit it. You’re always asking him for help.”

  “Because he’s reliable.”

  “And none of your other sons are? Maybe you should ask yourself why.”

  Joanna looked as if she’d been immobilized by a thunderbolt. She blinked rapidly, opening and then closing her mouth, evidently at a loss for words.

  April bit her lip. When the woman found her tongue, she was in for a lashing.

  “Why is it that people with no children think they have all the answers?” Joanna’s mouth trembled and her eyes watered.

  Not the reaction April had anticipated. Remorse crept in. “I don’t know what I’m talking about. Sorry. Now I’m stepping in your business when I have no right.”

  Joanna angrily swiped at her eyes. “You certainly don’t. You have no idea what it’s like to have your husband die and raise four small children by yourself.”

  Guilt slapped her across the face and April leaned on the counter for support. She was responsible for the death of Joanna’s husband. Chulah wasn’t the only one who suffered for her mistake. Joanna and her children had suffered as well. She’d known this, of course, but it was another thing to see the hurt up close.

  It was horrible to witness the steely woman dissolve into tears.

  “Please, don’t cry. I’m truly sorry.” April searched the shelves and found a box of tissues. “Here, take one.”

  Joanna sniffed, but accepted the tissue and dabbed her face. “There’s some truth in what you not-so-subtly implied. I did my best. At least I had Chulah to rely on.”

  “Have you ever told Chulah how much you appreciate him?” April gently probed.

  Her eyes widened. “He has to know.”

  So she hadn’t. “I think it would mean a lot to him if you did.”

  Joanna nodded and pulled herself together. “I appreciate that we can be frank with each other. Now. About the two of you—”

  April groaned.

  “Can’t you go over and apologize for whatever fool thing you did?”

  “Who said the breakup is my fault?”

  “This is worse than I imagined. I’d hoped it was a mere lovers’ quarrel, not a split.”

  April plucked a tissue from the box, feeling weepy herself. And she had done so well this morning keeping busy so as not to think of Chulah. So much for that.

  “Yeah, it’s pretty bad,” she admitted. “There’s no coming back from it.”

  “This is most unfortunate. Suppose he’s still pining over that hothead, Tallulah.”

  “You know he proposed to her?”

  She arched a brow. “No. Only that he’s moped about her since they were teenagers. So he finally got up the nerve to propose, huh? Poor boy.”

  “Tallulah’s an idiot.”

  Joanna laughed. “Agreed.”

  Understanding dawned. “You really do love him, don’t you?”

  Joanna made an exasperated tsking noise and stuffed the tissue in her oversize pocketbook. “What a ridiculous question. He’s my boy.”

  She couldn’t help grinning, recalling Chulah’s height and sexy, lean muscles. Hardly a boy.

  “You find that amusing?” Joanna asked haughtily.

  “No, no. Not at all. I’m glad you feel that way.” April screwed up her nerve one last time. “You might want to tell him so every now and then.”

  Joanna adjusted the pocketbook straps on her shoulders. “We’re not a family given much to demonstration.”

  “Just a suggestion.”

  “Well, here’s one for you. Don’t give up on my boy. Whatever the problem is, I could tell he was happy with you.”

  April brightened. Her first shot of hope since Chulah had dismissed her last night. “Ho
nestly? You think so?”

  “I can tolerate anyone but Tallulah Silver.” Joanna lifted her chin defiantly. “If she ends up as my daughter-in-law, I will chase you down and haunt you.”

  Joanna being Joanna, this was a positive sign of endorsement. Perhaps even affection.

  “We can’t let that happen,” April agreed. She stuck out her hand, a human tradition for cementing agreements.

  Joanna gave a rusty laugh and shook it. “Deal.”

  Chapter 14

  Chulah dropped the monkey wrench on the hard cement, and the sound echoed loudly in the shop. “Damn it. Son of a—”

  “Problem, boss?” J.B. picked up the fallen wrench and handed it to Chulah.

  He snatched it from J.B.’s hand and returned to viciously tightening bolts on the Harley engine. Everything at work had been a pain in the ass, all freaking day long. Misplaced files, impatient clients, workers out sick, late shipment of parts—you name it, it had gone wrong. Slowly, he became aware that J.B. hovered above him. “What do you want?” he snapped.

  “You put the fuel filter in backward.”

  Chulah stared at it a moment. “Son of a—” He broke off at the sound of a chuckle and whirled around. “You think that’s funny?”

  “It’s just that you never make mistakes. What’s eating you today?”

  “Nothing,” he huffed, removing the filter.

  “Uh-huh. If you say so. By the way, Joanna’s in your office.”

  Chulah dropped the pliers to his side and momentarily laid his forehead on the black-and-orange-striped gasoline tank. “Of course she is. What’s next? A visit from an IRS auditor?”

  “Don’t jinx yourself.” J.B. stepped next to him. “I’ll finish this up while you talk to her.”

  Chulah fleetingly considered slipping out the back door and jumping on his Harley for a long, solitary ride. But with his luck today, he’d probably crash. He went to the washroom sink and scrubbed off his greasy hands as best he could, remembering all her countless lectures on cleanliness.

  Chulah stepped into his small office, where Joanna sat, all prim-and-proper decorum amid the chaos of paperwork on top of his banged-up steel desk. At least there weren’t any dirty coffee cups or fast-food wrappers overflowing from the garbage can. His mood was too foul today to even have an appetite.

  Might as well get right down to it. Chulah pulled up a folding chair next to his stepmother. “What brings you here?”

  “Can’t I just drop by to say hello?”

  Didn’t he wish. “Hello. Now, what’s the problem?”

  “No problem.”

  Chulah stared, waiting her out. She shifted uncomfortably in the cheap seat.

  “Had a little chat with your girl this morning.”

  “Who are you talking about?” he asked coolly. “I don’t have a girl.”

  “That pretty little blonde, April.”

  Even the mention of her name was a sucker punch to his heart. He stood and walked to the window, quick to hide his expression. A couple of deep breaths and he turned back to Joanna, his composure restored. He sat at his desk and motioned at the paper pile. “Got lots of work to do. If you don’t need anything...”

  “Nope, not a thing.” She stood leisurely and patted her hair. “Have a nice day, son.”

  Son? She hadn’t called him by that moniker in years. Chulah’s composure slipped and he felt his jaw slacken. Must be some kind of trick. Be nice to the sucker now and then stick it to him later.

  “I’m making your favorite dinner tonight. Roast beef and mashed potatoes. Come by around six if you can.”

  His mouth watered. He hadn’t eaten all day and Joanna’s roast was legendary. Even if it was a trick to soften him up for help, he couldn’t resist the home-cooked meal. And to tell the truth, he was more than a little curious about her conversation with April. He’d quiz her tonight. “I’ll be there.”

  “Excellent.” She absently straightened clumps of paper clips and staples. Always straightening and correcting. Joanna ran a finger down a clear strip on his desk, frowning at the dust that collected on her fingertip. Irritation buzzed in his gut. This was a damn bike repair shop, not the Hilton. What did she expect? She discreetly wiped her finger on a napkin left over from some fast-food joint. “See you later. And don’t be late.”

  Damnation. He couldn’t wait until dinner to ask. “What did you and April talk about?”

  “Oh, this and that.” She gave a maddeningly vague smile. “I like her.”

  Joanna was dropping the equivalent of f-bomb shockers in his office. She had never liked any of his past girlfriends. Or any of his friends, for that matter. Not that he cared.

  “As for what we talked about...you can ask her yourself tonight. She’s invited for dinner, too.”

  With that final bombshell, Joanna walked out, leaving him staring speechlessly at the door. What the hell was happening to the world as he knew it?

  * * *

  He hated her.

  April wandered through the swamp, feeling as desolate and gray as the November sky. She should probably be relieved the worst was over. The truth was out. No more holding her breath, waiting for the bombshell to drop. Yet she’d never felt so alone. So bereft.

  The earlier optimism of the day had faded. Joanna could try to play matchmaker all she liked, but the truth was that Chulah didn’t appear too fond of his stepmother. Her opinion would hold no sway with him. It could even be more harmful than helpful.

  She picked up a withered, dead stick and idly twirled it through her cold fingers like a baton. It snapped in two, and she tossed the broken sticks on the frosty soil. Chulah couldn’t hate her any more than she hated herself. She was selfish, secretive, impulsive, flighty—

  The smell of old-fashioned peat blew in the breeze. Perhaps someone was burning leaves nearby? April circled, scanning the skies, but there were no smoke columns rising in the wind. Odd. Unless... That was exactly how Grady smelled. April shivered, not from cold, but from fear.

  But Grady was dead. Steven said that even his spirit had been annihilated in Hoklonote’s fire. Uneasy, April turned back to her apartment. The closed-in room was a bit claustrophobic—she was used to living outdoors—but it was safe.

  The smell grew stronger, assaulting her nose—then her lungs. She coughed and draped the scarf over the lower half of her face. She walked faster, the aerobic pumping of her heart driving up her fear until she ran down the path. The only noises were the rustle of dead leaves and the sound of her trapped breath in the woolen scarf. Another half mile and she’d be home.

  A crash exploded from behind. She jumped and turned, then realized it was only a tree limb that had broken and fallen to the ground. Get a grip. She slowed her pace to a quick walk, all senses remaining on high alert. She picked up the sound of every squirrel scurrying through the underbrush, every caw of the crow and the constant whistle of the wind through the trees. And each step drew her closer to safety.

  Until it didn’t.

  Icy fingers ran roughly through her hair, leaving a trail of burn that brought tears to her eyes. They tugged at her long locks.

  “Where are you running off to, little girl?”

  Grady’s voice, all right. Breathy. Girlie. Affected. She’d never liked him. While on the Council, he’d always sat with a smug smile on his fat face. That smile only grew wider when it came to disciplinary matters. With no expression of emotion, he’d offer the harshest punishment possible with a calm, gentlemanly veneer. Only the slight twitching of his beefy hands gave away his secret pleasure.

  No one dared cross him. Even the queen acquiesced to his “recommendations.”

  The tug strengthened to a pull that set every scalp follicle writhing. April raised her hands, uselessly trying to bat away his grip.

  He let go and she fell to the ground, smacking her right hip on the hard earth. Instinctively, April rolled out of kicking range.

  “I remember you,” he drawled, as if delighted to see her again. “Th
e precious halfling who tried to run away from Fairy, looking for her mommy.”

  On hands and knees, April faced him. He was the same. Tall, heavy. Huge purple wings so ostentatious they were ugly. A smooth white luster to his form that was too pretty for his sex, too delicate and fair.

  “Grady. I remember you, too.” The fat bastard had ostracized her for a year. A year in which no one was allowed to speak to her or acknowledge her presence. A year in hell.

  “Sir Grady,” he corrected, smile slipping. “You seem to have forgotten your manners.”

  She stood on shaky feet, determined not to show fear. Grady thrived on that. Hungered for it. “I was told Hoklonote killed you the night of the fire.”

  “A little fire won’t kill me.”

  What would? April wondered.

  “Nothing that you could do.”

  He’d read her mind. No, it was rumored Hoklonote had the ability, but Grady was a fairy, same as her.

  “That’s right, little girl. I can hear what you’re thinking. But you insult me by comparing yourself to me.”

  She lifted her chin. “Lucky guess. And my name’s April.”

  “I know who you are. I also know what you are about here on land. Helping the shadow hunters.” His lips curled sardonically. “You’re even in love with one of them. Just like your mother.”

  No sense denying it if he could read her mind. “So what if I am? Why should you care?”

  Grady dropped all pretense of civility. The pristine whiteness of his aura began swirling with red streaks. The odor of peat grew more burned, an acrid fume that suffocated. “Because we should stay a pure race, untainted by vulgar human blood.”

  “If we’re so wonderful, so pure, why are you selling our secrets to Hoklonote?”

  “Because together we can rule Fairy. Once he kills the queen, of course.”

  His casual mention of murdering their monarch stunned April. He was crazy. Most likely had been for years. “You’re a monster. How could you even think of doing such a thing? And it will all be for nothing. Hoklonote won’t let you rule anything.”

  “You comprehend nothing, little girl.” A sly note crept into his voice. “If you join us, we’ll not only spare your life—we’ll grant you a position on our new Council. Wouldn’t you love to sit in judgment of all the people from your past who slighted you?”