Savage Bayou (Things that go Bump in the Bayou Book 2)

by Alizabeth Lynn

  She pulled her car off the road a little ways in front of the stranded vehicle. Cautiously, her nerves on edge, she turned her hazards on and stepped from her car. The woman moved forward, one hand fluttering over her heart.

  “I was beginning to wonder if anyone would ever come out this way! My cell doesn’t have signal, so I was just thinking about walking. I’m so glad you stopped instead!” the stranger gushed.

  Again, Janice was struck by familiarity, although she didn’t know from where. The stranger kept her face in the shadows.

  Janice offered her a comforting smile. “I’ve been where you are, and I’d have been glad for a helping hand. What’s your trouble?”

  “I think it’s my battery. Do you happen to have a set of jumper cables? I swear I only pulled over for a moment to watch the water. This is a nice spot, you know? And then my car wouldn’t start back up.”

  Janice smiled again. “Yes, it’s a very nice spot. I’ve stopped here a time or two myself to sit and watch the water in the moonlight. It’s magickal. And, yes, I do have a set of cables. Just a moment, and I’ll get them and swing my car around to give you a jump.”

  The woman smiled, her teeth bright white in the darkness. “I really appreciate it.”

  Janice returned the woman's smile, shivering although the night was still warm. Turning around, she unlocked her trunk and opened the hatch. She had her hand on the cables when she heard footsteps behind her. She spun around, and came face-to-face with a person she thought never to see again.

  Janice’s eyes flew wide. “Octavia!” The woman in front of her was her long-disappeared sister-in-law.

  Octavia smiled the same toothy smile as before and Janice caught the first glimpse of her fangs. Her eyes narrowed. “I told Phia working for that slimy bastard was a trap!”

  Octavia cocked her head to the side and flicked the tip of her tongue over the point of her teeth. “So how is little Ophelia? I hear she’s grown into quite the pretty little woman.”

  Janice planted her hands on her hips. “You keep her name from your lips. You are nothing to her.”

  The sound that emerged from Octavia’s throat was less like a laugh and more like a primal growl. “That may be, but she’s going to be everything to the man in charge, and I’m going to help bring her in.” She raised an eyebrow. “Starting with the aunt who just couldn’t mind her own business.”

  Octavia advanced slowly, fangs gleaming, but Janice was in no way ready to just give in. With an angry flick of her wrist a spear of water rose up from the swamp and pummeled her sister-in-law in the side of the head, knocking her down. Janice ran for the front door of her car, but somehow Octavia was there, blocking her way. The vampire shot out an arm, grasping Janice around the neck, squeezing, squeezing, until her vision blurred.

  Janice raised a hand, but her power only flickered, the water in the swamp doing no more than churning as she fought to stay conscious. Octavia leaned forward, her voice a terrifying whisper.

  “Gavin’s going to have fun with you before you die.”

  Janice struggled weakly, but white spots flitted across her vision, and then there was nothing.

  Ophelia didn’t slam her door when she walked back inside, but the urge was resisted with difficulty. It wasn’t because she didn’t want to disturb her aunt—she’d seen that Janice’s car wasn’t in the driveway—no…it was jealousy. Ophelia shook her head as she locked the door and retrieved her gun from her bedroom before settling down in the living room. She was jealous of Daniel spending time with Serena, and that was ridiculous. She and Daniel had never said they were exclusive. The truth of it was, even if she hated the idea – a far cry from not wanting him to come near her – if he wanted to kiss someone else, he could.

  That didn’t stop Ophelia from wanting to shoot the other woman, though. Or turn her into a toad. Or a jackass. Or maybe a baboon. Grumbling to herself, she set the weapon on a couch cushion, and knelt beside her coffee table. It was time to find out what was going on, and hopefully ease her mind before she did something she would regret—whether it meant killing an ally because she made goo-goo eyes at her vampire, or kissing said vampire again.

  On the table sat four thick white candles and a lighter. With a sigh, Ophelia lit the wicks, setting the lighter beside the gun. The flames flickered in the air conditioning, casting eerie shadows on the wall. The candles held the only light in the room.

  Focusing her power on the past, Ophelia watched the flames dance together in the center of her vision. Dark spots formed inside the light, growing clearer the longer she stared. Features sharpened, and she saw Daniel’s face staring back at her.

  “But what does it mean?” she muttered, frowning.

  Daniel’s face faded, and another formed. The surprise of it sent Ophelia scuttling back against the couch. Her face. It was her face looking back at her from the fire. She stared at it, a million incoherent questions screaming in her mind.

  Taking a deep breath, Ophelia clenched her fists, and fought back the shock. She cautiously moved closer, her heart still pounding hard. The blood rushed through her ears, but curiosity won out. The vision became clearer as she neared, and she noticed slight differences. The woman in the fire might have been her…in about ten years.

  “I still don’t understand,” Ophelia whispered.

  The flame-woman faded, replaced by two small faces. Children—the most beautiful children she’d ever seen. One appeared to be four, and the other close to eight years old. They looked like the woman, her, and she realized, like Daniel. Ophelia’s eyes widened when the children disappeared and the woman replaced them. A smile formed on the face of the fire-woman.

  Looking deep into the fire-eyes, it was then that Ophelia finally understood. Awestruck, she stared at the vision, who nodded and abruptly disappeared. The flames guttered out, the candles having burned down to nothing.

  Ophelia leaned back against the couch, willing her heart to stop racing. A word repeated itself inside her mind. Over and over, with every beat of her heart, she heard it: Reincarnation. With that word, there was no wonder why Daniel seemed to like her so much.

  For all intents and purposes, she was his wife.

  Janice had no idea how much time had passed, but when she awoke, she was in some kind of room. Water trickled down the rough stone walls around her, the light from the narrow opening to her right growing dimmer. She struggled against the ropes that bound her to the bed, causing fresh wounds to crop up around her wrists and ankles. She whimpered around the gag in her mouth, but no one was around to hear her. Gritting her teeth to stave off her growing fear, she reached out with her power, commanding the water to move, to push the gag from her mouth, but nothing happened.

  Turning her head to the side, she blinked back tears. She craned her neck to try to see anything that might give her a clue about where she was, but she was distracted by a searing pain as she pulled at a wound in her shoulder. Looking down, she saw a jagged hole in her skin. The edges were tattered, the piece of flesh that once covered the area, hanging by a tiny flap. It seemed as if something had used her as a snack at some point, but they hadn’t bothered to close the bite properly, leaving it to seep blood onto the worn stone where she lay. The coppery scent was nauseating, and her hair was matted from the blood that oozed from the bite. And now that she’d seen it, the damn injury ached like a bad tooth, but that was the least of her worries. If her power wouldn’t work, that meant Octavia’s cohorts had a sorcerer on their side, and there was only one that she knew of that would be involved in something like this. And if she was right, if it was Myrick, then she was in deep shit.

  Janice watched the dim light fade beyond the room where she was being kept. She wondered if Octavia would be back, or the one she called Gavin, or if they were going to starve her to death, alone. She stretched her arms against their bindings yet again, only igniting fresh lacerations on her already sensitive skin. Her energy was failing, and she knew she didn't have much time left, whether whoe
ver was holding her killed her themselves or not. She tried to harness her power again, but still nothing happened, and a chill crept up her spine.

  Footsteps sounded just outside of her vision, and Janice shut her eyes. It sounded like more than one person, and there was an added slipping and scraping sound as they moved. Cold dread filled Janice’s heart as she imagined them hauling in another victim. Isn’t hurting me enough?

  Janice couldn’t help it, though. She opened her eyes when she heard them reach her doorway. Two hooded figures entered, dragging a bound person behind them. One of the figures grabbed the body, and tossed it, face-up in the middle of the floor.

  Janice gasped. The unconscious form was that of her boyfriend’s son-in-law, Rafe—a man whose face she recognized from Garrett’s endless supply of family photos. She began to struggle in earnest, until the other figure crossed to her, placing its clammy hand on her chest and holding her still.

  "Fight us, and this man will die slowly,” the person said, his voice like mosquitoes buzzing to the music of saw blades.

  Her body shaking with burgeoning fear, she nodded. Janice stopped trying to move, hoping he would release his hold, but he did not. He slowly stroked her skin, eliciting the sensation of barbs drawing lightly over her pores, like a poison seeking entrance to her body. It made her feel even sicker to her stomach.

  Janice turned her head to the side, trying not to pay attention, and she watched the other creature reach down and slap Rafe across the face. Garrett's son-in-law groaned and his eyes fluttered open, recognition dawning instantly.

  "Jeremiah! You son of a bitch! What have you done with my wife?"

  The creature that slapped him threw back his hood and laughed, the sound bouncing off the walls, chilling Janice to the bones. Ophelia had been right about who had Gwen. This wasn’t good at all.

  "Oh, don't worry about her,” Jeremiah told Rafe, "she's too valuable for us to hurt right now. In a few months, however...” He let the sentence hang with another evil cackle as Rafe struggled futilely against the cords that tied him.

  “And what about the woman you’ve got tied up over there?”

  “Don't worry about her, either.”

  Jeremiah aimed a powerful kick to his ribs, and Janice heard them crack on impact. Rafe hissed, but didn’t scream. Jeremiah laughed. "Don't bother fighting. The ropes are enchanted. You won't be able to get free.”

  He turned to the still-hooded creature beside Janice. “Gavin, you can play with her later. It’s time to show this werewolf what happens to those who choose to stand in our way.”

  With a chuckle more suited to a venomous snake, Gavin, the same vampire Octavia had threatened her with, caressed Janice’s skin one last time before moving to stand across from Jeremiah. Rafe’s prone form was between them, vibrating with barely restrained fear and anger. Janice could see the emotions chasing themselves across his face, and tears leaked from her eyes. She knew they were about to kill him.

  The creatures each pulled daggers from inside their robes, crouching down beside the werewolf. Gavin raised Rafe’s hands, holding the victim’s arms above his body. He drew the blade of his dagger from the base of Rafe’s elbow to the rope that bound his wrists. The cut wasn’t so deep it severed muscle, but enough that the blood welled up and oozed like hot molasses to the floor.

  Mimicking Gavin’s action, Jeremiah slit Rafe’s other arm, and Rafe finally cried out in agony. The sound was distorted and muffled behind his gag. Janice watched in horror as they pulled Rafe’s arms above his head, looping the rope that bound him around a stake protruding from the floor.

  Their actions synchronized, the vampires positioned their weapons above Rafe’s ears. Swift movements severed them completely, causing the victim’s eyes to roll back in his head, his body shaking like a leaf in the wind.

  Bile Rose in Janice’s throat as Gavin sliced the blood-soaked shirt away from Rafe’s body. The heat and humidity already causing the blood to stink. It smelled like copper and garbage in a month-old landfill.

  Jeremiah smiled, his eyes wide and eager. He looked into Janice’s eyes and raised his dagger. Fangs flashed as his grin grew wider. He plunged the weapon deep into Rafe’s belly. Gavin reached inside the mutilated skin, and pulled the werewolf’s innards out through the wound, cackling as he tossed the bloodied mess over his shoulders.

  Unable to look away as Rafe took his last painful breath, Janice wept in silence. The vampires treated him like waste. Gavin strewed Rafe’s intestines across the damp ground like so much offal, the smell already close to that of a week-old piece of roadkill.

  Gavin turned to Janice, lifted his hands, and greedily licked the blood from his fingers, his eyes glowing red in the darkness. Janice uttered a strangled cry and finally passed out, the image of Rafe’s mutilated body forever seared into her brain.

  Chapter Seventeen

  One a.m. rolled around, but Ophelia still hadn’t moved from her position in front of the couch. Shock was ice water in her veins. She didn’t want to have a recycled soul. She didn’t want to look like a three-hundred-year-old dead woman. Why can’t Daniel just like me for who I am, not who I was in another life? Her past, however distant, didn’t affect who she was today.

  And I’m a fucking hypocrite, she thought acidly.

  Acceptance. Isn’t that what Daniel wants, too? She didn’t need to hear him say it to know if it was true. Hell, only a few days prior she hadn’t wanted anything to do with him, and now she was head over heels for what was possibly the most inconvenient person on the planet—who may or may not like her simply because she looked like his dead wife.

  With a frustrated sigh, she stalked into the kitchen to wash up the dishes that had been left in the sink—and the blood she’d forgotten to take care of earlier. Once the evidence of her injury had been cleared away, she headed down the hallway with the bloody dishrag. She’d toss it and a few other things into her washer before settling down with a book to pass the time and distract her from what she’d seen.

  As soon as she lifted the lid on the appliance, her pocket vibrated, her phone trilling the ringtone for an incoming call. Thinking it might be her aunt, she pulled it out of her pocket and checked the display, but the call was from an unknown number. Usually she ignored those, but the chill that skittered up her spine told her to answer this one.

  “Hello?”

  “Is this Ophelia Boudreaux?” The voice was high and gravely, like a man with his nuts permanently in a vice.

  The chill intensified, raising the hairs on the back of her neck. “Yes…”

  She heard a crackle on the line as the man moved the phone, and another voice came through. A sweet, trembling, feminine voice.

  “Olphie?”

  Ophelia bobbled her phone, catching it inches from the floor. With a trembling hand, she brought the device back up to her ear. Only one person had ever called her ‘Olphie’...in a barely remembered memory.

  Her voice cracked. “M-mom?” Had Jeremiah let her go already?

  The voice on the other end of the line began to sob. “S-sweetie, you have to h-help me! You have to save—”

  Squeaky Nuts came back on the line with a chuckle. “Jeremiah’s through playing around, Sorceress. Hand over the traitor, Daniel, and you can have dear old mom back. We’ll give you four hours before we start cutting her into little pieces.”

  Ophelia took a deep breath as the chill tingled down her arms. Something wasn’t right. “Where do I need to go?” she asked, letting her voice tremble a little.

  He laughed. “We’re in Haughton. Have fun finding us inside the time limit, Sweet Cheeks.”

  Her mother screamed, and the line went silent as Squeaky Nuts disconnected the call.

  Ophelia stared at the phone. Her mother? Jeremiah said he wouldn’t hurt her, that she was safe until he had what he wanted from Ophelia, which they all knew was going to take some time and quite a bit of finesse—especially since she didn’t think it would be possible without copious amounts
of magick. She shook her head, focusing on the issue at hand. The whole situation screamed, “TRAP!” but the woman was her mother, and that caused a nugget of fear she couldn’t squash. It looked like she and Daniel would be taking another trip. She wouldn’t be using him as bait, but there was no way in hell she was walking into wherever they were without backup—if she could even find their hideout in time.

  Ophelia turned and raced back down the hall, the fear growing like a live thing in her heart. She snatched her gun from the couch where she left it that morning, and slid her feet into a pair of shoes. She grabbed her keys and practically flew out the door. She looked back as it slammed behind her, and she collided with Daniel’s chest and stumbled back.

  Daniel grabbed her shoulders, steadying her. “Whoa, Phia! What’s your hurry?”

  She stammered through a recap of the phone call, ending with, “So, we need to be quick. It’s going to take us at least two hours to get to Haughton. You know how those roads are.”

  Daniel didn’t move. “Do you have a plan, or were you just going to hand me over?”

  She looked up at him, eyes wide. “What? No!”

  “Then what?”

  “I—I don’t know, but she’s my mom. I’m pretty sure this is a trap, but if it’s not…damn it, she’s my mom! If I’m wrong, I can’t let Jeremiah kill her.”

  Daniel scratched the back of his neck. “Do you even know where they are?”

  “No—I—why are you even asking me questions? We need to go!”

  He shook her lightly. “Think, Phia! What good will it do if we don’t know where we’re going?” He thought for a moment. “What did you say the man sounded like?”

  Shaking her head, Ophelia told him. “He sounds like someone grabbed his balls and yanked, but what does that have to do with anything?”

  Daniel’s eyes narrowed. “That’s Fergus. He’s one of the Vampire Council’s enforcers, a werewolf on their side. His voice gave him a complex, so he makes up for it in viciousness.”