Lucien quickly tired, giving up the struggle and hanging limply from the tree. His hands dropped, fingers pointed to the ground and the knife clattered to the bushes. Lucien passed out.
***
Something stung his thigh. Lucien opened his eyes to dirt and sticks. He turned his head, wincing as a pain stabbed his eyes. Blinking, he remembered the moments before he passed out and groaned. He hung from a tree, now directly over the water. A splash drew his attention to the two gators circling beneath him.
“Good evening, Lucien.” Henri’s voice.
“Get me down and you might be allowed to breathe a while longer.” Lucien ordered, but his command was no more than a whisper.
“In time.”
Henri moved to stand below him, just off the banks of the river. He raised his hand; a hand with a knife: his knife. Another splash forced Lucien to look back to the water. What was the fool up to?
“This is for Mama Gator.” Henri slashed at Lucien’s back, and Lucien grimaced as the blade cut his skin. Warm blood trickled to his neck, and dripped to the water below. At once Henri’s intention dawned on Lucien. He twisted, struggling to break free. The gators no longer circled. They fought for a prime spot beneath him.
Henri moved around him, smiling. “This is for Justine.” He slashed Lucien again. This time the blade caught his arm.
Speechless Lucien stared at the gators below. The pain was terrible, throbbing into his shoulder but he was more concerned with the gators thrashing about only feet from his head. Surely, he wouldn’t—he’d lose everything. They’d hang him for murder if he did what Lucien feared.
“This is for Rowan and her child… and maybe a little bit for me.” Henri reached up and cut the rope holding Lucien above the water. Weightless, his mind working furiously to figure out a way out of this, Lucien hit the banks of the river with a grunt. His feet still bound, he thrashed about, trying to gain some footing. Henri walked toward him, grinning still, the knife now tucked into the waist of his pants.
“No, I don’t think so, Dumas. It’s lunchtime.” He dragged Lucien up, fisting a hand in his hair. Lucien bucked, but his bound feet made it impossible to put much force into it.
“You’ll hang for this. Someone will demand answers,” he babbled.
Henri gripped his arms, yanking them behind his back. Lucien felt his breath on his neck. “I won’t be around long enough for the questions.”
Suddenly Lucien pitched forward into the water.
The gators closed in as he sunk.
Clawing through the thick weeds of the shallows, he tried to move to the shore. Something grabbed his foot. He felt a snap. “No.”
“Au revoir, Lucien,” Henri called.
Something tugged and ripped, pulling him under further and further into the deeper water. Lucien opened his mouth and the river filled his lungs. He coughed and sputtered. A force slammed into his middle. He spun, waving, twisting, trying to break free from its massive jaws.
CHAPTER 34
Though still frighteningly small, Celestine showed her mother’s fierceness of spirit, surviving despite her tragic early birth. Her strange violet eyes took in everything, and she gurgled happily when someone was kind enough to hold her. Henri stared down at the red haired infant in Justine’s arm. She blinked at him and waved a tiny hand. The moonlight caught the copper hues of the tiny curls that framed her little face, and cast an eerie glow over her pale skin. She was enchanting; he could stare into those eyes for hours and now understood how Lucien might have believed her to be a witch. Indeed, she cast a spell over all who saw her.
“Time to begin again, ma petite cherie,” he cooed.
Celestine frowned, her brow furrowing, so like Rowan that Henri’s breath hitched in his chest. He missed her, but realized now, after spending months at the camp with Justine and his daughter, that they’d never have made it together. Rowan was not meant to be someone’s mistress, nor someone’s wife. Her independent streak and her fiery soul would not allow such domesticity. And Henri could not have endured her constant rebellion.
“It’s over,” Justine sighed as the ship pushed away from the dock and the lights of New Orleans moved away from them.
“It’s just beginning.” Henri smiled.
THE END
OTHER BOOKS BY
RENÉE MILLER
In the Bones
The Legend of Jackson Murphy
Dirty Truths
Sex, Peanuts, Fangs and Fur: A Practical Guide for Invading Canada
Sweet Revenge
Terrible Cherubs
FOR THE LOVE OF GODS
Book One: Lucky
Book Two: Lascivious
Book Three: Nefarious
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Renee Miller lives in Tweed, Ontario. Bayou Baby is her ninth published novel. She’s a control freak with poor self-control, an addiction to cake and potato chips, and has inappropriate fantasies involving Kevin Spacey.
[email protected]
www.deadpixelpublications.com
www.twitter.com/ReneeMJ
www.authorreneemiller.com
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