The Spirit Tree (29 page)

Bryson hung his head.

“He doesn’t know we’re shifters,” I interjected.

“Not yet. How do you intend to keep such secrets from a detective?” Buck glared at me. “This is not acceptable. You both must sever all ties with Detective Burns or he’ll be taken care of.”

I shook my head and walked to the window. Two months after we’d rescued Lilly and Jonas, the full Council of Elders summoned Bryson and me. That it had taken two months surprised us.

The council’s accusations and demands didn’t come as a shock, though how casually they spoke of killing another human surprised me. I wouldn’t turn my back on Aaron or Bryson. I decided to play our trump cards.

I stood and moved behind Bryson.
Here goes everything.
I placed my hand on Bryson’s shoulders. “With all due respect, Detective Burns is not the concern of the council. I claim Aaron Burns under my protection, just as the Nunnehi, my people, protected your people before the resettlement.”

“You cannot claim him. You can barely protect yourself, girl.” A chief from the Southern District stood, breaking protocol with his outburst. Several others shouted in agreement.

Bryson stood and took my hand. “I am Tla’nuwa, and she is my mate. We are Nunnehi. We are separate, yet we are a part of the First People.”

A collective gasp rose through the gathering, followed by more shouting. Not all the elders gathered had witnessed my first appearance as a firebird. Rumors, like flies, buzzed in a frenzy one moment and were forgotten the next. Even the fact that I’d survived numerous attacks by a skinwalker hadn’t impressed the group. They needed to see it with their own eyes, and even then, some still wouldn’t believe.

Hand in hand, Bryson and I stood in the center of the gathering and slipped from our human forms. I burned as bright as the ceremonial fire that blazed a few feet away, yet Bryson was unharmed by my flames licking along his wings. We sprang into the air and soared upward into the night sky. When we were nothing more than a red glowing star in the eyes of those below, we turned and dove back toward the earth, only to rise again. The second descent ended with us in human form. My hair flamed at the ends, as my feathers had moments before.

“We are Tla’nuwa. We are the last known Nunnehi. We are separate, and we are part of the First People. We claim the position of shaman, as the blood of Cheasequah, or we will remain as our ancestors once were, separate from the First People.” Our voices formed each word in unison.

Buck spoke first. “We will discuss your words.”

“No, you won’t discuss it. You will do it,” I said.

Buck stared at me, his mouth gaping. I doubted anyone had ever back-talked him, or the council. He turned and walked away, with the others following.

Bryson nodded and led me away from the gathering as the men debated the future. He guided me to the river. We stepped into the warm water side by side. He faced me and set his hands on my cheeks, staring into my eyes. “You did great. Though, you shouldn’t have disrespected Buck.”

“I’m tired of being pushed around.”

“Me, too.”

“What if they refuse?” My knees trembled, and I didn’t know how they kept me upright. We’d gambled with Aaron’s life.

“It won’t come to that.”

Before I could say another word, Bryson pressed his lips to mine. My body melted against his as I parted my lips to accept his tongue. I ran my hands up his back as I drew his lower lip into my teeth, biting until he made a sound of protest. I released it, and his lips curled into a hint of a smile. A small reprieve before he claimed my mouth, leaving me breathless.

Bryson broke the kiss and rested his chin on top of my head. “Someone’s coming.”

“We can never finish what we start.” I eased from his embrace. The decision to wait to get physical until things settled seemed like a good idea at the time; however, I was growing to regret it. It was like waiting until the wedding night to have sex when you’re already living with the person. It did nothing but fan the flames, and inspired way too many cold showers.

“Please return to the meeting.” The boy who approached us looked scared.

Bryson took my hand, and we returned to the center of the gathering, the same way we’d left it—naked, hand in hand. I held my head high and my shoulders back, feigning self-confidence—easy to do when standing next to Bryson.

Buck stood and faced us. “The council will honor your claim to the position of shaman, after you are joined as husband and wife. The council will not honor protection of Aaron Burns by Tessa, daughter of Atsila.”

The words hit me like a punch in the stomach, though I refused to let the air leave my lungs. I stood as still and stoic as Bryson while Buck announced the decisions of the council.

“Should you, together, claim the man, the council will honor the request.” Buck looked between us.

“We claim him together,” Bryson and I replied. While I hated the politics of the situation, I understood. I was young and still unknown to many of them.

Buck asked Bryson. “Have you given the gifts to Mae, heart mother of Cheasequah?”

“I have not.”

Buck grinned. “Did you not take both Mae and Dottie pork and noodles?”

Bryson flinched, and I felt the earth tilt on its axis. We stared at each other for a beat. I turned back to Buck. The darned lo mein would cause me more trouble than heartburn.

“I did.” Bryson didn’t sound as upset as I would have liked.

“Did Mae accept the gifts?”

Bryson nodded.

Buck had the nerve to grin when he met my eyes. “Did you accept the gifts?”

“I ate the leftovers, if that’s what you mean,” I shot back, as Bryson squeezed my hand hard enough for it to hurt.

Buck turned to Mae and Dottie. “Did you accept the gifts?”

Dottie bowed her head, and Mae narrowed her eyes. “What are you doing, Buck?”

“Answer my question.”

“Charlie would have your hide for this.” Mae shook her head. “Yes, we ate the food.”

“So you had the bridal feast with the women of your family?” He made the question a statement. “Bryson, while you were here, you shared a feast with the men before your intended came into your room wearing nothing but a blanket.”

Bryson nodded. I had no idea what my going to his room had to do with the situation, other than to imply we’d had sex.

“Nothing happened in his room,” I said.

“What happened or did not happen behind closed doors is not our concern. The matter is settled.” Buck smiled and motioned to someone in the crowd. Three women approached with blue blankets. One draped a blanket over my shoulders, and another draped one over Bryson.

Bryson turned to face me and leaned to whisper, “If you don’t want this, now is the time to speak your mind.”

I didn’t not want this. Did I? The logical part of my brain said this would save Aaron, but I knew it was a lie. I could walk away from all of it—Aaron, Bryson, the tribe—and forget the entire ordeal and get on with my life. No, I couldn’t do that, not when I looked into Bryson’s eyes and felt nothing except peace.

“I want to marry him one day, but not like this.” I turned to Bryson. “I’m sorry.”

“I would rather honor you and our marriage with a proper ritual. You deserve more than this.”

“We agree to broker peace and to protect our friend, but we will marry when we’re ready.” I took Bryson’s hand.

Bryson spoke to the elders. “I will not dishonor this woman or myself by allowing you to force our hands.”

Buck asked, “You are refusing the position within the tribe?”

Bryson and I shared a glance, then answered, “Yes.”

“And will sever ties with Detective Burns?” Buck persisted.

“No. We claimed him together, as the council demanded. Our claim of protection has nothing to do with the matter of the position of shaman.” I squeezed Bryson’s hand tighter.

Buck narrowed his eyes, knowing he’d been played.

Mae chuckled and slapped Buck on the shoulder. “You should have known better than to try to govern Nunnehi. They never have and never will bend to the laws of the council.”

Dottie and I sat in lawn chairs, soaking up as much of the Florida sun as our fair skin would allow. The days were growing shorter, and the humidity had fallen to a comfortable level. Winter in Florida was pure bliss—there were fewer bugs, and the skies brightened.

Bryson busied himself tending to the new barbecue grill, which he’d bought for Mae on her eighty-seventh birthday. A mischievous chocolate Labrador retriever sat by Bryson’s feet, supervising the meat preparation. Maddie, the other woman in Bryson’s life, had become a furry member of the family—so much so that Mae allowed the dog in the house and on the furniture—one of many firsts.

Aaron and Mae emerged from the house carrying a pitcher of sweet tea, two bottles of beer, and a bowl of potato salad. “The baked beans will be ready in a few minutes,” Mae called to anyone with ears.

Aaron handed Bryson a fresh beer and brought Dottie and me a cup of sweet tea. “Do you ladies need anything else?”

“No, thanks, we’re enjoying watching the show.” I winked.

“I need to see to the beans.” He turned and headed back into the house.

Dottie whispered, “I don’t care what you say. That boy is still sweet on you.”

“We’re just good friends. Besides, I don’t think Bryson is willing to share.” I giggled at Dottie’s expression. Everyone assumed the three of us had had wild threesomes, but the sad truth was that I hadn’t had sex since the day Charlie died. I promised myself time to heal without romantic entanglements. Unfortunately, I was up to my eyeballs in romance, and it was high time I ended the celibate streak.

Bryson’s cell phone rang, and I listened to half the conversation. I hoped one of the tribe didn’t need healing or a love charm today, our only day off. Dottie was renting her house to Bryson, who’d turned it into a part-time art studio and part-time medicine shop. He used Charlie’s old office as a bedroom, though most nights he slept at my apartment. Once word got around we were open for business, a steady flow of people came by seeking all sorts of requests and favors. I helped out between working murder cases.

I’d accepted a position with the Orange County Police Department as a victim’s advocate. My new job put me in the perfect position to use my gifts to help solve crimes. The best part of the job was working with Aaron and Samuels. Life was pretty darned good.

“Another appointment?” I called out as Bryson put the phone back in his pocket.

“For Tuesday.” He jogged over to me and stole a quick kiss. A screech interrupted our face time.

Mae swatted at Maddie, who’d managed to steal one of the bigger steaks off the grill. The dog hightailed it to the other side of the yard to enjoy her prize. Mae fumed, as close to cursing as she could be without needing a mouthful of soap.

Bryson pressed his forehead to mine. “Do you think we’ll ever get an uninterrupted kiss?”

“Mmm-hmm, tonight, my place.” I laughed when he kissed the tip of my nose, and ran off to reassure Mae. We had enough steak to feed a small army.

“Too bad,” Dottie mumbled under her breath.

“Too bad, what?”

“Too bad they wouldn’t share you.” Dottie laughed deep in her belly as I blushed from my hairline to my chest.

“Aunt Dottie.” I shook my head, giggling.

“What? People do it. I’ve even seen it on the soaps.” Dottie smiled with a wicked gleam in her eye.

None of us could recall the moment it happened, the moment when grief gave way to a new sort of normal that brought peace and bits of pure joy. Yet, here we were, a family with a couple of new members and a pain-in-the-butt dog to top it off.

“I love this.” The breeze picked up, and the cobalt-blue and clear bottles in the bottle tree clanked together, reminding me of Charlie.

“Do you hear it?” Dottie turned her head toward the tree, smiling as she closed her eyes.

“Yes, ma’am.” The breeze carried the sweet whistled tune from the tree to the garden. The rustle of leaves and the clanking of bottles mingled perfectly into the song. “Yes, I do.”

Kathryn M. Hearst is a southern girl with a love of the dark and strange. She has been a story teller her entire life, as a child she took people watching to new heights by creating back stories of complete strangers. Besides writing, she has a passion for shoes, vintage clothing, antique British cars, music, musicians and all things musical (including theatre). Kate lives in central Florida with her chocolate lab, Jolene; and two rescue pups, Jagger and Roxanne. She is a self-proclaimed nerd, raising a nerdling.

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