Blood on the Bayou

by Heather Graham

  Blood on the Bayou

  A Cafferty & Quinn Novella

  By Heather Graham

  1001 Dark Nights

  Blood on the Bayou

  A Cafferty & Quinn Novella

  Copyright 2016 Heather Graham Pozzessere

  ISBN: 978-1-942299-50-9

  Foreword: Copyright 2014 M. J. Rose

  Published by Evil Eye Concepts, Incorporated

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any crane printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are the product of the crane author’s imagination and are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or establishments is solely coincidental.

  Book Description

  Blood on the Bayou

  A Cafferty & Quinn Novella

  By Heather Graham

  From New York Times bestseller Heather Graham...

  It’s winter and a chill has settled over the area near New Orleans, finding a stream of blood, a tourist follows it to a dead man, face down in the bayou.

  The man has been done in by a vicious beating, so violent that his skull has been crushed in.

  It’s barely a day before a second victim is found . . . once again so badly thrashed that the water runs red. The city becomes riddled with fear.

  An old family friend comes to Danni Cafferty, telling her that he’s terrified, he’s certain that he’s received a message from the Blood Bayou killer--It’s your turn to pay, blood on the bayou.

  Cafferty and Quinn quickly become involved, and--as they all begin to realize that a gruesome local history is being repeated--they find themselves in a fight to save not just a friend, but, perhaps, their very own lives.

  About Heather Graham

  Heather Graham has been writing for many years and actually has published nearly 200 titles. So, for this page, we’ll concentrate on the Krewe of Hunters.

  They include:

  Phantom Evil

  Heart of Evil

  Sacred Evil

  The Evil Inside

  The Unseen

  The Unholy

  The Unspoken

  The Uninvited

  The Night is Watching

  The Night is Alive

  The Night is Forever

  The Cursed

  The Hexed

  The Betrayed

  The Silenced

  The Forgotten

  The Hidden

  Actually, though, Adam Harrison—responsible for putting the Krewe together, first appeared in a book called Haunted. He also appeared in Nightwalker and has walk-ons in a few other books. For more ghostly novels, readers might enjoy the Flynn Brothers Trilogy—Deadly Night, Deadly Harvest, and Deadly Gift, or the Key West Trilogy—Ghost Moon, Ghost Shadow, and Ghost Night.

  The Vampire Series (now under Heather Graham/ previously Shannon Drake) Beneath a Blood Red Moon, When Darkness Falls, Deep Midnight, Realm of Shadows, The Awakening, Dead by Dusk, Blood Red, Kiss of Darkness, and From Dust to Dust.

  For more info, please visit her web page, http://www.theoriginalheathergraham.com or stop by on Facebook.

  Discover 1001 Dark Nights Collection One

  Click here to explore

  FOREVER WICKED by Shayla Black

  CRIMSON TWILIGHT by Heather Graham

  CAPTURED IN SURRENDER by Liliana Hart

  SILENT BITE: A SCANGUARDS WEDDING by Tina Folsom

  DUNGEON GAMES by Lexi Blake

  AZAGOTH by Larissa Ione

  NEED YOU NOW by Lisa Renee Jones

  SHOW ME, BABY by Cherise Sinclair

  ROPED IN by Lorelei James

  TEMPTED BY MIDNIGHT by Lara Adrian

  THE FLAME by Christopher Rice

  CARESS OF DARKNESS by Julie Kenner

  Also from 1001 Dark Nights

  TAME ME by J. Kenner

  Discover 1001 Dark Nights Collection Two

  Click here to explore

  WICKED WOLF by Carrie Ann Ryan

  WHEN IRISH EYES ARE HAUNTING by Heather Graham

  EASY WITH YOU by Kristen Proby

  MASTER OF FREEDOM by Cherise Sinclair

  CARESS OF PLEASURE by Julie Kenner

  ADORED by Lexi Blake

  HADES by Larissa Ione

  RAVAGED by Elisabeth Naughton

  DREAM OF YOU by Jennifer L. Armentrout

  STRIPPED DOWN by Lorelei James

  RAGE/KILLIAN by Alexandra Ivy/Laura Wright

  DRAGON KING by Donna Grant

  PURE WICKED by Shayla Black

  HARD AS STEEL by Laura Kaye

  STROKE OF MIDNIGHT by Lara Adrian

  ALL HALLOWS EVE by Heather Graham

  KISS THE FLAME by Christopher Rice

  DARING HER LOVE by Melissa Foster

  TEASED by Rebecca Zanetti

  THE PROMISE OF SURRENDER by Liliana Hart

  Also from 1001 Dark Nights

  THE SURRENDER GATE By Christopher Rice

  SERVICING THE TARGET By Cherise Sinclair

  Table Of Contents

  Book Description

  About Heather Graham

  Discover 1001 Dark Nights Collection One

  Discover 1001 Dark Nights Collection Two

  Foreword

  An introduction from Heather Graham

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Epilogue

  Discover 1001 Dark Nights Collection Three

  Discover the World of 1001 Dark Nights

  Discover more from Heather Graham

  Special Thanks

  One Thousand And One Dark Nights

  Once upon a time, in the future…

  I was a student fascinated with stories and learning.

  I studied philosophy, poetry, history, the occult, and

  the art and science of love and magic. I had a vast

  library at my father’s home and collected thousands

  of volumes of fantastic tales.

  I learned all about ancient races and bygone

  times. About myths and legends and dreams of all

  people through the millennium. And the more I read

  the stronger my imagination grew until I discovered

  that I was able to travel into the stories... to actually

  become part of them.

  I wish I could say that I listened to my teacher

  and respected my gift, as I ought to have. If I had, I

  would not be telling you this tale now.

  But I was foolhardy and confused, showing off

  with bravery.

  One afternoon, curious about the myth of the

  Arabian Nights, I traveled back to ancient Persia to

  see for myself if it was true that every day Shahryar

  (Persian: شهریار, “king”) married a new virgin, and then

  sent yesterday’s wife to be beheaded. It was written

  and I had read, that by the time he met Scheherazade,

  the vizier’s daughter, he’d killed one thousand

  women.

  Something went wrong with my efforts. I arrived

  in the midst of the story and somehow exchanged

  places with Scheherazade – a phenomena that had

  never occurred before and that still to this day, I

  cannot explain.

  Now I am trapped in that ancient past. I have

  taken on Scheherazade’s life and the only way I c
an

  protect myself and stay alive is to do what she did to

  protect herself and stay alive.

  Every night the King calls for me and listens as I spin tales.

  And when the evening ends and dawn breaks, I stop at a

  point that leaves him breathless and yearning for more.

  And so the King spares my life for one more day, so that

  he might hear the rest of my dark tale.

  As soon as I finish a story... I begin a new

  one... like the one that you, dear reader, have before

  you now.

  Dear Reader,

  I love the variations of our country in general, but I admit to a special love for New Orleans and the surrounding countryside.

  A few years back, I took a bayou trip similar to the one to be found in Blood on the Bayou. I loved it! All the wonderful stories, and the eeriness of the bayou by night. Come with me on this ride, if you will—and if you get a chance, you must go yourself! Visit NOLA—unique, historical, and wonderful!

  New Orleans and Southern Louisiana offer up some of the most amazing cuisine to be found anywhere. Coffee and beignets are great, but a few of my favorites are shrimp and grits and crawfish etouffee. If you happen to be in NOLA, try out K. Paul’s Louisiana Kitchen. I love their food!

  NOLA is famed for the Sazerac, the Pimm’s Cup (first found in London, but enhanced and perfected at the Napoleon House bar!) and the Hurricane. (Strange, yes. The real ones are devastating.)

  The hurricane consists of a few different kinds of rum, fruit juices, grenadine, and simple syrup. There are all kinds of recipes on line, if you just want to enjoy! But, of course, head to NOLA for the real deal!

  There’s blood running in the bayou . . . and if you dare to tarry in the swamp, the next victim just might be you.

  Prologue

  So far David Fagin was pleased.

  “We have a few legends around here,” he said to the group. “The Honey Swamp monster being one. It’s said that he lives side by side with the rougarou.”

  He smiled at two of the young women in front of the group who were clad in heavy coats and huddling together.

  “Every good swamp has a monster,” he said. “Any of you seen The Creature from the Black Lagoon? Maybe not. It’s a classic. But, hey, there’s always Netflix. Anyway, it was a 1954 black and white film. Horrible special effects compared to what we see today, but kind of cool when you think about the poor stunt man in that rubber suit. It’s your typical swamp monster. Big, scaly, out to kidnap beautiful young women and do in the handsome young men out to save them. The rougarou, he’s different, and he’s partial to this area.”

  “What’s that word again?” someone asked.

  “Rougarou.” And he was careful to sound it out phonetically. Ru-ga-ru. “Some say he’s French. Others make him part Native American. He’s the size of a man, but stronger. Some compare him to the Wendigo of certain local tribes. Now the Wendigo’s name has been translated to mean cannibal, and by some to mean the evil spirit that devours mankind. Most agree the name derives from the French, loup-garou, wolf-man. The creature is usually seen as bipedal, with the head of a wolf. Sometimes, he’s seen with other monstrous heads.”

  Though he and Julian Henri had been in business for several years, this was their first time doing the Bayou Night Myth and Legends Tour. Even Mother Nature had cooperated. No snow on the ground, or even in the air, but the night still brisk. Southern Louisiana seldom received snow, and when it did fall it didn’t stay long on the ground. Out on the water, though, the cold rose like a mist, embracing the bayou and making everything seem all the more dark, chilling, and menacing.

  Insects serenaded the gathering. An owl hooted beneath a full moon. Every now and then came the splash of a gator sliding down a mud bank into the water. Even the sounds of Highway 90 in the distance added to the eerie feel.

  Julian’s family had long owned property and few people knew the swamp better. Both of his parents had passed away during the years he’d been at college. Once he returned, everyone had urged him to sell. Byron Grayson, the realtor, had advised keeping swampland was ridiculous. He’d be happy to take it off Julian’s hands. Victoria Miller, owner of another tour business, had offered Julian even more money for the property. Victoria’s significant other, Gene Andre, the son of an old Cajun family himself, had urged her to buy both the land and the business. But Julian had determined that he and David could make a real success of it.

  Now David was convinced that they could.

  So far, on their first outing, not a hitch, and people seemed to be loving it.

  David, like Julian, also hailed from the low country, which added a bit of authenticity to everything they planned to do on this tour. Though they often faked their Cajun accents. Four years at Harvard had nearly caused David to “pahk his kah.” And Julian’s stint at NYU in the theater department had seen to it that he could switch into a Bronx drawl just as quickly as he could spit out his hometown patois.

  They’d returned home from their respective universities four years ago, had a chance meeting at a favorite café on Magazine Street, then two years ago ventured into the tourist business. They’d started out doing history tours in the French Quarter, then added plantation visits. A day on the bayou had been next, and now they’d moved to the Night Myths and Legends Tour by lamplight.

  As always, when they started a new tour, they led the first few themselves and played up their Cajun heritage. Thanks to reality TV, people pretty much expected them to be toothless and illiterate. But breaking stereotypes was fun.

  Their pontoon boat afforded a seat for the captain and the tour guide. Tonight Julian served as captain and David the guide.

  “This swamp has often been a hideout place for pirates, smugglers, and outlaws,” David said. “The unwary who seek shelter here. Those who don’t respect the dangers because they’re in trouble. Legend has it that, from time to time, the rougarou has happened upon those who hid in the swamp. You have to be real careful here.”

  A nearby alligator slid into the water.

  One of the young women in front let out a short scream and jumped in her seat.

  “That’s probably old Meg,” he said. “She’s an irritable bag. Been around a long time and just isn’t fond of tourists.”

  “Is a gator as scary as that rougarou thing?” a man in back called out.

  “Few things are as scary as the rougarou,” David said. “Remember, this region was largely French and the French were good Catholics. You know how it goes that if you’re bitten by a werewolf in the light of the full moon, you become one.”

  Nervous giggling greeted his words.

  “Down here, we’ve always mixed our monsters with religion. Part of the legend has it that the rougarou could enter the soul of a man who didn’t follow the traditions of Lent. That was a time of trying hard to be good and behave, with kindness and brotherhood toward your fellow man. Bad guys have bad things happen. Good guys get good. And, you see, if such a man had his soul stolen by the rougarou, he would kill all the decent men.”

  “So the bad guy became badder and the good guys paid?” a teenager asked him. “Maybe it’s cool being the rougarou.”

  “Not really. Because the good guys would hunt down the rougarou, bash his head and slice his throat,” David said. “Then they cut off his head and chop out his heart.” He smiled. “So, rougarou, watch out.”

  He allowed his story to sink in before telling them more about their surroundings.

  “A swamp is defined as low-lying, uncultivated ground where water collects. A bayou is a body of water lying in flat lowland, an offshoot of a slow moving river or marshy lake or wetland. It’s low water with all kinds of creatures and trees, with civilization far away. But not so far anymore, as you can almost see the lights of the highway from here.”

  He grinned.

  “1756 to 1763 are the important years. The English and French are fighting. The French from Ac
adia, in what is now Canada, came south to escape persecution from the English. Cajun culture comes from that time. French fur traders first came to this area in the late 1690s, and it was the French who founded New Orleans in 1718. Nouvelle Orleans.”

  “Viva la France,” one of the teens shouted.

  David smiled. “Absolutely. However, the city and surrounding areas were ceded to the Spanish as a secret provision of the Treaty of Fontainebleau after the Seven Years’ War. It took a long time for the Spanish to gain any kind of control, and the flavor of the city remained French, though slowly mixing with Spanish. Then fires ravaged the city. When the area was rebuilt it all became Spanish.”

  “Bravo Spain!” another said.

  “Again, absolutely,” David said. “But in 1801, another treaty gave it all back to the French. By then the Americans had arrived with permission to use the ports. I’m telling you all this to explain the mix of cultures and culture clash. The French had their rougarou. When the Americans came, they added the Anglo church, and though the fear of witches had died out, it was resurrected here. We already had our African-Caribbean voodoo thing going. So we just added all the new stuff in to our own legends.”

  He pointed out in the dark.

  “Just to the right, ahead, is the site where the Good Witch of Honey Swamp lived in the early 1800s. Her father had been a Scottish sailor, her mother a voodoo queen. She cured people, and it was claimed she could control the weather.”

  He shifted everyone’s attention in another direction with a hand gesture.

  “Back over there you’ll see some old houses built up by the bayou. They look close, but they’re about a mile apart. They’ve been there all these years, owned first by the rich, and now by us working stiffs. Our good captain, Julian Henri, lives up there.”