Shadowed Page 2

  “The swamp witch? You went to see her?” Saber shook his head, disbelieving. “You’re joking.”

  “I wish I was,” Reddix said fiercely. “It wasn’t a very fucking pleasant experience. But I needed help, and there was no place else to get it.”

  “All Xandra can offer you—can offer anyone—is death,” Saber protested. “You need to stay away from her, Reddix!”

  “Too late.” Reddix laughed, a deep, harsh sound that hurt Saber’s ears. “We’ve already struck a bargain—a bargain in blood. See?” He held out his arm and pulled up the sleeve of his hooded jacket.

  On the inside of his wrist, Saber saw something that made his gut clench with fear and loathing. There, on his friend’s pale skin was a black mark shaped like a small, slithering creature called a lthss. It looked remarkably like the Earth animal called a snake except that a lthss changed color after it fed, by sucking the blood from its victim, going from black to red. The mark on Reddix’s inner wrist was still small and still black. But what color would it be when Xandra was done with him?

  “Reddix,” he said. “You can’t do this. There has to be another way.”

  “To overcome the RTS long enough to get Tilla pregnant and make sure the Clans don’t kill each other?” Reddix barked a bitter laugh. “I don’t think so.”

  “But this is extreme,” Saber protested. “I really don’t think—”

  “No, you don’t, old friend. You don’t think about anyone but yourself. But you know what? I do.” Reddix jabbed a thumb at himself. “I’m thinking of my little sister—of Minda. Did you know she’s found a male from the Wind Clan? He doesn’t have much status, but he loves her and he’s good to her. They’re already joined, and she’s going to have a baby. What do you think will happen to that sweet, happy little family if the Clans go to war? How long do you think they’ll survive? And who should Minda side with—the clan she was born into? Or the clan she married into?”

  He stood suddenly and swayed unsteadily.

  Saber jumped up to help him, but Reddix shook off his hand and took another step back.

  “Stop touching me,” he muttered. “Just makes it worse.”

  “Sorry.” Saber took a step back. For the first time it occurred to him that his old friend looked more than just tired—he looked sick. He couldn’t get much of a look at Reddix’s face with the hood in the way, but from the little he could see, his friend looked unshaven and unspeakably weary.

  “I’d better be going,” Reddix growled. “I need to get back and tell your mother and father and the rest of our people I’m their next Overlord.” He snorted. “You can imagine for yourself their overwhelming joy at the prospect.”

  “Don’t go just yet,” Saber protested. “Stay for a while and recuperate—you look terrible.”

  “Don’t look nearly as bad as I feel,” Reddix rasped. “But don’t worry, I’m not running straight back to Tarsia yet. I have some unfinished business right here on that little blue-green ball of rock all our Kindred Brothers seem so fucking taken with.”

  “On Earth?” Saber frowned. “What do you want there?”

  “It’s not what—it’s who.”

  “Reddix, if I could—” Saber began.

  “Don’t say another word—your mind is made up, I can feel it. The certainty that you’re not coming back is like a weight around my neck. A heavy fucking weight.”

  “But—”

  “And don’t worry.” Reddix pointed to the half unrolled vid screen, which lay on the floor. “I’ll swear to your mother you watched that and still wouldn’t come home. It’s doubtless only the first of many lies I’ll be forced to…”

  His words trailed off, and he swayed again, much more alarmingly this time.

  “Are you all right?” Saber took another step toward him in concern. “Brother?”

  “Saber, I…I…”

  But Reddix never finished. His silver eyes rolled up, showing the whites, and he dropped heavily to his knees. Then, before Saber could take even one more step forward to catch him, he toppled forward like a fallen tree, face down onto the floor.

  Chapter Two

  Nina Kerrick sighed as she dusted the glass case containing the brightly colored Seminole dolls and the display of sweet-grass coiled baskets. Moving methodically but quickly, she cleaned the rest of the exhibits and straightened the stacks of brochures located near the front of the small tribal museum attached to the Hard Rock Casino. The museum didn’t pay much, but she only worked there two or three times a week. She loved being surrounded by the fascinating history of the Seminole Tribe even though she was only half Native American on her mother’s side.

  Her father was Welsh, and the resulting combination gave Nina an exotic look with high cheekbones and warm copper-tan skin. She also had long, straight black hair with reddish highlights, but it was her deep blue eyes, so unexpected in one with her coloring, that drew the most attention. Nina liked her looks, but she wished she had inherited a smaller behind—her big hips and bottom were a constant source of consternation, but no matter how hard she worked and dieted, they never really got any smaller.

  She moved to the small gift shop area, swiftly straightening the array of handmade items—the patchwork vests and jackets, the pillows, potholders, and ornaments, as well as the miniature dolls attached to key chains. Crafted of palmetto husk fiber and adorned in brightly-colored traditional skirt and capes, the doll key chains were by far the best seller. Every woman who nagged her husband or boyfriend away from the gaming tables for a second had to have one.

  The small space was straightened and ready for the next day’s patrons—mostly bored gamblers who trickled in from time to time from the casino next door. It was time for Nina to go. She barely had time to run through the drive-thru and get Mehoo-Jimmy her favorite fast food burger before she had to be at her night job as a therapist at Massage Envy in South Tampa.

  She paused in front of a framed black and white photograph depicting a Seminole woman from 1910. The picture was part of the Camera-man exhibit, taken by renowned photographer Julian Dimock. The photographs he’d taken revealed fascinating details of Seminole Indian life deep in the interior of the Florida Everglades back at a time when few whites dared to venture so far.

  The woman in the picture caught and held Nina’s eye not because of her historical significance but because of what she wore—strands and strands of glass beads woven around her neck. Not just a few either—the woman was wearing literally hundreds of strands, so many that they started just under her chin, covered her entire neck, and dripped down the front of her breasts. Their weight must have been enormous but the woman stood straight and strong, staring into the camera with an unyielding look in her dark eyes.

  Nina didn’t need a degree in Native American studies to tell her why the woman wore so many beads. In the past, it had been a matter of pride—of status—for Seminole women. The beads were an outward exhibition of their wealth and worth, not just received as gifts but bought with the money they made themselves, selling handcrafted baskets, blankets, dolls, and anything else they could make. Seminole women would wear the beads, only taking them off at night, even though the immense weight of them eventually led to severe back and shoulder problems. It was a matter of pride to keep them on, and more than once a female who slipped accidentally into the river was drowned because of the great weight around her neck.

  “So heavy,” Nina murmured, staring at the woman from over a hundred years ago. “How did you carry that weight day in and day out? How did you keep standing so straight?”

  Her own weight to bear was nothing so tangible as hundreds of strands of glass beads, but Nina still felt it pulling her down. It was the dreams, of course—they were like an anchor tied around her neck. If she didn’t stop having them soon, they would drown her as surely as the Seminole women, too proud to take off their necklaces, had drowned in the swamps of the Everglades. And like a woman adding strand after strand of beads, the dreams kept getting worse un
til she woke up every night in a cold sweat, feeling like she might be sick.

  “It’s going to be all right,” Nina told herself bravely. She lifted her chin. “Everybody has weird dreams once in a while.” Except these dreams had been happening for months. At first, they were no big deal, but lately…

  If only I didn’t feel so…funny every time I have one.

  Except funny wasn’t really the word, was it? It was more like aroused. Incredibly aroused. Nina didn’t know why, but whenever she saw the faceless man in her dreams, her heart started pounding and her palms got damp. And that was only the start—when he came closer, her nipples tightened and her pussy suddenly got so hot and wet she felt swollen between her legs. And all the time the man whose face she couldn’t see was talking to her in a low, harsh voice. Telling her all the things he wanted to do to her. Saying that she was the only woman for him, that she was the only one he wanted to touch…

  She always woke up from these dreams sweaty and disheveled. And confused—so confused. Had she had a nightmare or a wet dream? Part of her said nightmare—no question. A man with no face chasing her? That had to be a bad dream. Except…bad dreams didn’t make you horny out of your mind. So much that she had to touch herself before she could go back to sleep. Nina couldn’t help being ashamed of that—how could the idea of a huge, frightening man whose face was hidden make her so hot? And why wouldn’t the dreams leave her alone?

  Stop thinking about it! You’re only making it worse. And anyway, it’s time to go.

  Nina glanced down at her watch and gave a low curse. She’d been thinking about her bad dreams so long she had forgotten about how late it was getting. It was past time to be out of there.

  Flipping off the light switch, she locked up the small museum and ran for her car, parked at the far end of the employee lot. The hot Florida sun beat down on her, but Nina was used to it. She slid into her little hatchback, barely noticing that the interior was like an oven. The heat she could handle—it was the few cold days a year that got to her. Luckily, living in Tampa, those days were few and far between, so she was generally pretty comfortable.

  She went through the drive-thru and got a double cheeseburger for Mehoo-Jimmy and a chocolate shake for herself from the dollar menu. It was a small splurge, since she was trying to save every penny to go back to school, but after the particularly bad dream she’d had the night before, Nina decided she deserved it.

  I just need to let the dreams go, she told herself as she sipped the shake and drove toward Mehoo-Jimmy’s little bungalow. Need to forget about them and just breathe.

  Pulling up in front of the little green house, she saw that Mehoo-Jimmy was sitting out on the front porch, petting one of her many cats and probably humming to herself. Sure enough, when she got out of the car, Nina could hear the soft, wordless crooning that was surprisingly tuneful drifting through the air. It was this soft sound that had comforted her after the death of her mother, when Mehoo-Jimmy held her and whispered that all was not lost, that she would see her again someday on the other side.

  Nina had only been twelve when her mother had died of breast cancer, and Mehoo-Jimmy had taken her under her wing and protected her when Nina’s father was out trying to drown his grief in whiskey and gambling. In some ways, he had never gotten over her mother’s death—or at least that was the excuse he always gave when he came home drunk or lost his paycheck at the craps table.

  But Nina didn’t want to think about her father now. She ran lightly up the path to the tiny pea-green bungalow, the white paper sack with the cheeseburger crinkling cheerfully.

  “Mehoo, how are you?” She took the porch steps in two bounds and bent to kiss the soft cheek, wrinkled with age. As always, Mehoo-Jimmy smelled of baby powder and the herbs she grew in her garden out back.

  “Hello, eecho.” The affectionate name meant “little deer” in Miccosukee, one of the Seminole dialects. The old woman gave her a wide smile, revealing teeth too white and even to be anything but false. “What you doing here? Don’t you have to be at that Greedy Massage place?”

  “It’s Massage Envy, and I have a few minutes. Thought I’d bring you lunch.” Nina handed her the bag and pulled up a wicker chair to sit beside her. “So how are things?”

  “Not bad, not bad. Except…” The old woman frowned at her. “I got a worried feeling about you, eecho. Early this morning when I first woke. Are you all right?"

  “I’m fine, Mehoo.” Nina shifted uncomfortably under her adopted grandmother’s ancient stare.

  “Tell the truth to your mehoo.” The old woman spoke sternly though her eyes were gentle. “I can tell when something is on your mind.”

  “I had another dream,” Nina said, looking down at her hands. “A dream about the man…the man whose face I couldn’t see.”

  As she spoke, the half-remembered dream came back with a force that left her feeling uneasy and ashamed. Besides the shameful way the strange dreams turned her on, there was something else about them—a feeling she got that the faceless man needed her help. That he was in terrible trouble, and only she could save him. But it was hard to say how she could possibly do that—he was so big, and his face was always shadowed…

  “A man who hides his face? Hmm…” Mehoo-Jimmy hummed thoughtfully as she unwrapped the burger Nina had brought her. “That’s not good, child. He sounds like a bear.”

  “He could be, I guess,” Nina admitted, frowning. “He’s huge—as big as a bear, anyway.”

  “The bear is your spirit animal, Nina,” Mehoo-Jimmy said sternly. “You’ve dreamed of him before, remember?”

  “Well, yes…” Nina sighed. She had had several dreams about a bear that talked to her when she was little, but that was years ago—a childish fantasy. Not that she would say that to Mehoo-Jimmy.

  “When your spirit animal comes to you in a dream, you need to listen. What does he want, this bear?”

  “I don’t know.” Nina raised her hands helplessly. “He never speaks, and I can never see his face—just these strange, glowing eyes like he’s hiding somehow.”

  “Dreaming of a bear means fever coming,” Mehoo-Jimmy announced. “A fever you can’t put out with water alone.”

  Nina nodded respectfully, though she wasn’t completely sure she understood. Mehoo-Jimmy’s late husband had been a respected medicine man of the panther clan, and the old lady had studied with him until she too was known as a doctor of Seminole medicine. She would never be as powerful as a medicine man, but her herbal remedies and medicinal rubs got good results and were favored above “white medicine” by many of the older tribe members. Her homemade medicine earned her just enough to let her keep up her house as well as feed herself and the many cats that could always be found wandering through her garden.

  “This fever—could you put it out with your special tea?” Nina asked. Personally, she swore by the herbal tea Mehoo-Jimmy brewed for colds and flu. She was almost never sick herself, but when she was, the tea helped her bounce back within a couple of days.

  “No medicine will be strong to quench this kind of fever,” Mehoo-Jimmy said mysteriously. “The power to heal such a fever will have to come from within. From here.” Leaning forward, she tapped one crooked finger above Nina’s heart.

  “You know I don’t have power like you, Mehoo,” Nina protested.

  The older woman had tried to teach her some of her cures and remedies, claiming she had the “healing touch” but Nina had never learned to make much more than the tea and a few herbal rubs. She always promised herself she would come and learn more, but these days she was so busy she barely had time to spare a few minutes with her adopted grandmother before it was time to rush off to the next job.

  “Of course you do, eecho. Why do you think those clients of yours at the Jealous Massage place keep coming back over and over? Why else are you saving to go back to school and be a doctor? Because when you touch people, they feel your power—the power of your heart to heal.”

  “Oh, Mehoo…” Nin
a made a shooing motion. “I just want to be a physician’s assistant. And it’s not like that—I’m just a good therapist. That’s why my clients come back. Not because of any ‘power’ I have.”

  “You have more power than you think.” Mehoo-Jimmy nodded solemnly. “You have a strength in you, eecho. A strength that won’t let you break, no matter how far you have to bend.”

  Nina felt sudden tears prick her eyes, and she looked away, trying not to let the older woman see her cry.

  “I…I certainly hope so,” she said, trying to keep the emotion out of her voice. “Because lately, sometimes I feel…feel like I’m going to break. These dreams…” She looked back at Mehoo-Jimmy and tried to smile, but the other woman shook her head.

  “Tell me, Nina,” she said softly. “Are the dreams really so bad? Or is there another reason you’re upset. Is it that no good father of yours? What did he do this time?”

  “Oh, Dad’s always in trouble.” Nina sniffed and sighed. “I am disappointed, though—I thought he was doing better. I had him going to Gambler’s Anonymous every Friday night. He hadn’t been in the casino in ages. And then…”

  “Then what?” Mehoo-Jimmy’s eyes were hard, but the anger in them wasn’t directed at Nina.

  Nina sighed. “Oh, I found out he’d been in the casino again. That’s all.”

  “How much?” Mehoo-Jimmy asked. “How much did he lose?”

  “I’m not sure exactly,” Nina lied uneasily. In fact, she knew to the penny how much her father owed. But if she told Mehoo-Jimmy, the sum might give the old lady a heart attack.

  “Nina…” Mehoo-Jimmy frowned at her. “Are you helping him pay it off? Is that why you’re all the time working, eecho?”

  “I’m helping a little—it’ll be okay,” Nina said. “Mostly, I’m saving for school. It’s just…I haven’t been sleeping well, so I’m a little tired right now, that’s all.”

  In fact, she felt near the ragged edge of exhaustion lately. All the hours she was working combined with all the stress of the dreams to make her feel half-crazy most of the time. But she couldn’t let her mehoo know that.