Harlequin Nocturne March 2016 Box Set Read online

  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