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

by Alizabeth Lynn

  “What are you doing out and about today?” She asked.

  He turned his cobalt eyes on hers. “Looking for you.”

  Ophelia leaned against the tree and raised an eyebrow. “Well, you found me. What’s up?”

  He looked down, a guilty look on his face. “I wanted to apologize for last night. For everything last night, from the store, to Melina. I feel responsible for the way things turned out.”

  Ophelia took a sip of her coffee. “Are you the one that arranged the meeting?”

  Liam’s eyes widened. “No.”

  “Then I don’t see what you have to apologize for–” she smiled at him– “and don’t worry about Melina. I’m the one who should be apologizing for that. It’s not like me to shoot first and ask questions later.”

  Liam laughed. “Don’t worry about her. Not much gets under her skin, and between you and me, you impressed her last night. She wasn’t expecting someone like you.”

  Ophelia pushed away from the tree and tossed her empty cup into the trash can beside it. “Well, I wasn’t expecting anyone like y’all, either.”

  Liam looked at her curiously. “What do you mean?”

  “You know, the whole half-vampire thing,” She shook her head and shrugged. “I didn’t think it was possible.”

  He laughed. “Well, until last night, I hadn’t met a sorceress that really could do it all—I thought y’all were a myth.”

  Ophelia smiled and began to cross the street, Liam following. “I can’t ‘do it all,’ as you say. Power of every kind has its limits.”

  They reached her truck, and Liam leaned against the side, crossing his arms. “I’ve only seen you work a couple of times, but I didn’t see any limits.”

  Ophelia opened her door and slid behind the wheel. “Well, I haven’t tested everything, either. I’m sure there will be something I can’t do.” She smiled. “Now, do you need a ride back, or are you good?”

  Liam smiled in return and stepped away from her truck. “I’m good. I want to get a better look around town before dark.”

  She pulled her door closed and rolled down the window. “I guess I’ll be seeing you tonight, then.”

  A shadow crossed Liam’s face as she drove past. “Yes, I guess you will.”

  Twenty minutes after Ophelia watched the sun set from her kitchen window, a knock sounded at her front door. Heaving a weary sigh, she opened it to Daniel and the rest of the gang. She directed everyone to the kitchen, where the scrumptious scents of rigatoni, meat, and cheese filled the air.

  Ophelia had set out plates and silverware before they arrived, so all she needed to do was dish out the food when everyone was in the kitchen. She set her own plate on the counter with every intention of standing to eat, but Daniel gestured to the empty chair beside him.

  “Sit down, Phia. Please,” he told her, and rather than argue, she grabbed her plate and did as he suggested.

  Daniel rose and crossed to the counter where Ophelia had been. He waited until she was finished eating before he spoke. “I talked to Craven just before we came over,” he said quietly, his gaze leveled on Ophelia’s, “and I’m sorry, but the news isn’t good.”

  Ophelia wiped her mouth with a napkin, and took her empty plate to the sink, her heart stuttering when he placed his hands on her hips and locked his eyes on hers with a frown. “Jeremiah has your aunt. Craven thinks she’s at the same place they’re holding Gwen.”

  Ophelia’s heart stumbled to a jerking halt for a split second, and her eyes went blurry. “What?” she asked, uncertain that she’d heard him right, “They have Aunt Jan?”

  Sympathy lighting his gaze, Daniel nodded. “That’s what Craven said. Having you go to Haughton was a smoke screen. He’s not going to stop using you. He’s pissed because you still haven’t turned me over.”

  Uncaring that the others were watching, Ophelia grasped Daniel’s shoulders and buried her face in his chest. “I thought he had Octavia to get what he wanted, but he had her to get me to do what he wanted—by getting the only woman who’s earned the right to be called my mother,” her voice cracked as she fought back tears.

  Daniel titled her face up to his. “What else does he want from you?”

  Ophelia shook her head. “That’s irrelevant right now. It couldn’t happen with you, anyway, so we’re safe.”

  Melina sucked in a startled breath, but although Ophelia looked in her direction and saw a curious knowledge, she didn’t comment on it—one thing at a time. She returned her focus to Daniel, rubbing a frustrated hand over her eyes. She took a deep breath, more steadied by his comforting hands rubbing her arms than her own attempts to calm down.

  “Do we have a plan?”

  “We came up with a few ideas last night,” his eyes searched the rest of the group, “but we’re going to have to act fast if we’re going to save Gwen and Janice.”

  Ophelia nodded as he filled her in on all of Melina’s information, including the general plan once they reached the old house.

  She frowned up at him. “How are we going to communicate with each other? Cell phone vibrations might be heard, calling requires speaking, and yelling, well, that would be like putting up a neon sign to announce our presence.”

  Daniel opened his mouth, but it was Melina who answered. She stood up from the table, brushing a fussy hand over the black jeans she wore. “None of us have telepathic powers, so texting looks like the safest bet. It’s not foolproof, but it’s the best option we have.”

  With a weary sigh, Ophelia nodded. “Okay, then. I think we need to gather our weapons and get going. We can fine-tune any missing pieces on the way.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Janice could hear the familiar footsteps as Gavin and Jeremiah descended the stairs, returning to her makeshift prison, which meant the sun must have gone down. She wanted to huddle in on herself, but the restraints kept her sprawled out, waiting for whatever the creatures had planned. Squeezing her eyes shut, Janice offered up yet another fervent prayer to whatever god might be listening. Surely someone was looking for her.

  Her heartbeat sped up as she struggled against the ropes binding her to the top of a stone slab.

  Gavin reached the bottom of the stairs first, holding a torch. He giggled a little as he walked over and placed it in a metal sconce near her feet. He looked at her, the fire reflecting in his eyes, and giggled again.

  Gavin reached out and ran a hand up her leg. “I’m going to have fun with you tonight, Janice.”

  Jeremiah stepped into the room with another torch. He looked at his underling, his voice almost a whisper when he spoke, “Gavin, it’s not yet time.”

  Jeremiah inserted his torch into a sconce near her head, and stroked a hand down her hair. He leaned down until his nose nearly touched her own. “You’re not going to like this, Janice, but it’s the price you have to pay for not heeding the warning signs. You should have made your niece stop while she was ahead. Now, in your death, maybe she’ll be more willing to deliver the price I ask.” He brought his hands up to retie the dirty rag over her mouth, “Scream all you want. No one will hear you.”

  In that moment, time stopped for Janice. The sound of her own blood rushed into her ears, roaring in fear. She fought the bile that rose in her throat, keeping her eyes steady and focused above Jeremiah’s head, and on the dark ceiling. She refused to look into his eyes.

  Jeremiah’s clothes rustled as he moved back, giving Gavin better access to her body. She listened to the swish of his cloak as he walked away, speaking to the other vampire. “Don’t take too long to play with her, my friend. We have other business tonight.”

  Play with me? Janice’s hair stood up on the back of her neck, and her gaze almost wavered. Torture. He was talking about torture. A vision of Rafe flashed into her head, and she couldn’t suppress a shudder. Maybe someone would find her in time...

  Gavin giggled again, the sound like a symphony of rusty nails pulled across a chalkboard, and it slapped her in the face with reality. No
one knew where they had her. No one was coming.

  She did look, now, valiantly keeping the fear clear of her eyes, even though it flooded her heart, her blood, her very soul. Janice’s heart skipped a beat as she watched him pull a knife from a sheath on his belt. The terror she’d tried so hard to bank flared as the fire glinted off the blade. She squealed behind the gag, but she knew it made no difference.

  The vampire stood still until she quieted, and Janice watched in confusion as Gavin placed the knife on the edge of the coffin.

  "Don't worry, pet,” he said when he saw the look on her face, “I won't be using that yet."

  “No,” Jeremiah murmured, amusement in his voice, “My dear friend likes to play first.”

  Instead, he reached into a low pocket in his cargo pants and removed something that looked like a serrated potato peeler. He held the object before her frantic gaze.

  "Do you like it, pet? It's my own invention and much more fun than the knife alone.” His voice took on a tone like boiling oil on velvet, soft, hot, and dangerous. It made her skin crawl.

  Tears spilled from Janice's eyes and she couldn’t prevent the movement when her body bucked out of fear. Gavin's breath came in short excited gasps as he placed the peeler beside the knife, picking up the blade again. The sound of his breathing was almost more frightening than the weapons. Almost.

  Janice clenched her fists, and focused once more on the ceiling. She knew what was about to happen, and though her heart beat faster and faster, she didn’t want to give him the pleasure of seeing her scared before he started. He ran the point lightly over her flesh, not yet slicing into the skin, but she couldn’t prevent the quiver of gooseflesh around the cold blade. She could feel Gavin’s gaze like a poison barb on her face, making it itch. The urge to look was strong, but she resisted. She refused to give him the satisfaction.

  When he moved farther down her body and slide the knife beneath her shorts, her chin jerked, and hot tears cascaded in a salty waterfall from her eyes, but she held on to her resistance. Her body shuddered when he pulled the blade through the denim. The knife split the seams as if they were made of water.

  Janice could tell the vampire enjoyed her body’s response, especially when the force of her movements caused the knife to slice shallow lines into her flesh. Gavin giggled, a sound echoed in deeper tones by the vampire across the room. Jeremiah stepped forward, his dark eyes glittering in the torchlight.

  “She’s beautiful this way, isn’t she, my friend?” he said silkily. “Just look at the crimson streaks her blood leaves behind as it escapes her body.” He smacked his lips as he retreated once more. “Delicious…”

  An involuntary whimper burst forth beneath the gag as Janice returned her gaze to the vampire above her. Her shorts fell away as Gavin removed the blade from her skin. From the corner of her eye, she could see him raise the blade to his mouth and lick a dab of blood from the tip. He closed his eyes briefly, the tempo of his breathing culminating in harsh, pleasure-induced gasps.

  Bile rose in her throat when she heard him whisper, “Ah, the sweet taste of a woman’s fear, more potent and satisfying than the strongest liquor.”

  Janice fought the urge to vomit, not realizing she’d begun to whimper again behind the gag, the sound muffled and bleak. Fresh tears gathered in her eyes as he turned the blade on her shirt, cutting it from her body in quick, clean slices.

  Gavin pressed the blade to the skin just below the center of Janice’s breasts. He leaned down, his lips grazing her ear. “You really should watch me, pet. We’re almost to the good part.”

  Janice’s whimpers became sobs, but she shook her head. Gavin’s resulting laugh was low and menacing. “Suit yourself, then, pet, but you’re missing one hell of a show.”

  Gavin moved upright, increasing the pressure on the blade as he went. When it pierced her skin, she couldn’t stifle her gasp of pain.

  Crying out, her whimpers became wails as he drew a steady blood-filled line down her belly, and past her navel, before stopping at the top of her panties. Leaving the blade against her skin, Gavin leaned down and licked the cut, slurping when his lips met the knife.

  Unable to resist any longer, Janice’s eyes traveled down. Raising his head, Gavin smiled at her, his lips twisting up, the pleasant curve tainted by the gleam of madness in his eyes. Janice’s fear expanded as she allowed her gaze to drift to his hand.

  With a twist of his wrist, he used the knife to cut the fabric of her underwear, causing bile to rise in her throat once more. Vomit filled her mouth, but with nowhere to throw up, she was forced to swallow it back down.

  Choking, Janice could no longer remain calm. She flailed about, the ropes biting into her wrists and ankles. The terror in her mind was overwhelming. It ate at her, oily and smooth, coating her insides in the slick sickness that was true terror.

  Gavin giggled again, and flicked the knife against the sensitive flesh between her legs, slicing off bits of skin and muscle. Janice’s mouth opened in a scream so full of pain, it made no sound behind her gag, and her eyes rolled back in her head.

  Gavin reached over and slapped her face, stopping his actions until her eyes focused once more, her body stretched taut with pain. Blood dripped to the floor from where the rope bit into her skin. She knew he watched as her eyes darted to the area between her legs where the blade still rested.

  Gavin flashed her a pointy smile, reaching over with his free hand to squeeze more blood from the wound. Janice wanted to beg him to stop, to go no further, to please not rape her. But even without the gag, words would not come. She was beyond coherent vocalization.

  He squeezed the area again, the pain drawing another agonized scream from her throat. He leaned down until they made eye contact.

  “Oh, I’m not interested in that part of you, sweetheart. Not like that,” he whispered, “I just like to watch it bleed.”

  As if to punctuate his words, Gavin held the knife before her face, her own blood dripping onto the fabric over her mouth. Janice’s body went slack for endless seconds before bucking against the restraints, every instinct trying to get away, forcing Gavin to place a strong hand against her chest, pinning her to the top of the coffin.

  Eyes wide, she watched him set the blade down and pick up the peeler. He pressed the serrated opening against the flesh of her shoulder. Another flick of his wrist, and she watched as a sliver of skin rolled up, the shape a vision of hard ice cream under the pressure of a hot scoop.

  Gavin’s eyes glinted in the firelight as they watched a short spurt of blood shoot across the room. He drooled a little as he proceeded to repeat the action on her other shoulder, his body shuddering in ecstasy as another squirt of blood catapulted through the air.

  Janice’s eyes overflowed in a steady stream of tears that coursed over her cheeks and into her hair. Gavin released his hold on her chest as he pressed the pointed edge of the peeler to the corner of her right eye.

  In one swift motion, he jabbed the point downward, popping her eyeball out like a cork. With another cackle of laughter, he severed the nerves and sent the orb falling to the floor. Janice’s body thrashed wildly, all hope and reasoning lost in the overwhelming clouds of agony. She found her voice again, screaming loud and long, the force of her breath causing the edge of the gag to flap against her chin.

  Gavin held the peeler before her remaining eye, moving it back and forth. Janice continued to scream, her body a tense plank of solid limbs. She felt him press the peeler to her other eye, and then there was only pain – everywhere – there was nothing else. She had no body, no nerves, no muscles – only wave after wave of torment and suffering. But she could still hear, and a familiar sound reached her shocked senses: The horrible squelching as her eye popped free, and she felt it roll down the side of her face, felt it hanging by the nerves and tissue that connected it to her brain.

  The vampire leaned down next to her ear. “Are you ready to die, now, pet?” he hissed.

  Janice’s screams faded to muf
fled sobs, their rhythm beating a tattoo against the back of the bloodstained gag. Her spirit destroyed, she nodded, her weakened mind retreating inside itself.

  The last thing she heard was the laughter of a maniac.

  Gavin cackled as Janice gave up, his screeching voice soaring. He stroked her hair and placed the peeler, still covered in her blood and bits of flesh, inside his pocket and picked up the knife again. His hands shook in gleeful anticipation. They were nearing his favorite part.

  Sweat beaded, mingling with the blood of his victim on his forehead, and his breathing accelerated in rapid pants. His free hand caressed Janice’s body as he tried to decide on the best place for the next cut. His toy was clearly unconscious, so the rest of his playtime was all for himself. He barely noticed Jeremiah chuckle and walk halfway up the stairs to give them privacy.

  Gavin fondled one breast, then the other, before reaching down and caressing himself. The idea of slicing into her flesh was more arousing than any sexual position. He grew hard beneath his hand, stroking in time to the pumping vein he spotted above her right breast.

  Perfection!

  Without preamble, he brought the blade down, slicing into that vein. Another giggle escaped, and he lowered his head to the wound, sucking hard, gulping the blood that filled his mouth. With every taste, he grew closer to orgasm. His only regret was that she wasn’t awake to feel the pain of his bite.

  He drank and drank, his lips flanged like a fish, relishing in the power of the sweet red liquid, and the effect it had on his body. His breathing turned frantic, his hand moving from the front of his trousers to reach beneath the waistband. Janice’s heartbeat slowed as he exploded, releasing his mouth from her breast and screaming his pleasure into the darkness.

  Gavin removed his hand and wiped his mess on the remnants of Janice’s shirt. Bending down, he retrieved a goblet from the floor. He held it in one hand and slit Janice’s wrist with the other. His hands were no longer shaking, but his own veins pumped with joy. The moment was near.