“I control the wind and the rain,” she yelled, praying that the Louisiana weather would not let her down. And, to her relief, it did not. The rain fell harder.
Novak let out a cry of terror.
The rougarou seemed undaunted and stepped forward. Tied to the tree, Danni could do nothing. The “creature” drew out a knife. But instead of planting it in her, he severed the ties binding her and drew her from the tree.
Rain kept falling.
The heavy wolf’s head cane was raised, ready to smash it down on her head. But a mammoth mud creature burst from the swamp and tackled the rougarou.
She blinked away the rain.
The mud creature was Quinn.
Quinn straddled the costumed man, pinning him down, wrenching the cane from him and throwing it away. The rougarou struggled for the knife. Quinn backhanded him across the face so hard that his arms fell flat. Danni dived for the knife. She heard a howl. It was Novak, racing for her.
She braced herself, ready to use the knife.
An explosion pierced the air.
Gunfire.
From Quinn’s weapon.
Novak was hit in the kneecap. He let out a howl of pain that seemed to tear through the swamp as if a beast had been brought down.
“Get up,” Quinn shouted at the rougarou.
As he did, the rain eased.
Quinn ripped the mask off.
To reveal Detective Hayden Beauchamp.
Epilogue
Detective Dirk Deerfield was the most stunned that the “rougarou” had been his own partner.
He shook his head over and over again.
Quinn felt badly for him. He’d thought his young partner an upright fellow and had been completely duped.
“He asked me about the old case a lot,” Deerfield said. “I thought that sometimes it was just to remind me that while I might be the veteran and him the rookie, things had gotten by me. It never occurred to me that he was planning murders in the same way. Murders with the same details.”
“How did Beauchamp and Jim Novak meet?” Father Ryan asked. “That has to be one of the most unlikely duos ever.”
“It wasn’t surprising to me that Jim Novak is slightly crazy,” Natasha said. “Ignored by a father who died when he was a child. Not even given his name. His mother didn’t want him. He bounced through the system, went through all kinds of foster homes, unwanted. I guess a legacy as a rougarou was better than none.”
They were all there, Natasha, Father Ryan, Billie, Bo Ray, Danni, Quinn, along with Jake Larue and Dirk Deerfield, gathered at a place called Wicked Times. Beauchamp and Novak had both been arraigned on murder charges. Danni had been cleared from the hospital, since Quinn had insisted she have the knot on her head looked at. Communication between all of them had been somewhat choppy, and they were all still trying to put the pieces together.
It was also supposed to be a social night at Wicked Times. The place was new. It had just opened on Magazine Street, and in an hour or so, Quinn was going to play with the band and he was excited. They had a guy on rhythm guitar named Fats McGinnis, odd name since Fats was a tall, lean, twig of a man, one of the best in the city on guitar.
Danni liked to compare the situation to that of Sherlock Holmes with his violin. But Quinn always assured her he was no Sherlock Holmes.
As if she’d just read his mind, Danni asked, “How did you know? I mean, before you came after him, you knew that the rougarou was Hayden Beauchamp.”
“Process of elimination, my dear Watson. It was the pieces all of you gave me. Larue was keeping in constant contact. I figured that Jim Novak had something to do with it. But, of course, I could see Novak when I came through the trees. We knew it wasn’t Byron Grayson, he was dead in the swamp. When Larue checked with Jane and Lana and found out that, yes, they’d been harassed in a bar on Bourbon, but the guy had disappeared, I figured it had to be Beauchamp. Someone young enough to head out into the bar scene and someone close to the investigation. He knew all the little details of the previous murders that the public might not have known. He’d seen all the crime scene pictures. He knew how the ‘rougarou’ had been killing. When we found Byron Grayson in the swamp, Deerfield had us all split up. Naturally, Beauchamp knew that Danni was missing. He knew about my communications with Larue. He had to figure then that Novak had taken Danni for him and that Novak would think that he had scored the win of the world. Apparently, Beauchamp found the silver wolf’s head cane years ago and had become obsessed with the story and its possibilities.”
He paused.
“We believe that he actually killed his first victim, an unknown young woman we found buried in the front of the shack, after he found the old property. As you surmised, Danni, people can be sick and cruel and perpetuate heinous crimes without props or legend. But he had the cane. And when he met Novak, he was able to convince him that he was the rougarou, and that a rougarou always had a man in training, ready to step up to the task. When Beauchamp wanted to get rid of someone or take revenge, he called on Novak, who brought him his victims, and, we believe, did most of the killing. Beauchamp met Mandy Matheson and Abel Denham somewhere in the city when they first arrived. I’m assuming that Beauchamp immediately had a thing for Mandy. When she didn’t respond, she was with another man, for God’s sake, Beauchamp decided they both deserved to die. But he thought he’d also have a little fun. He knew Victoria Miller. She’d been running tours for a long time. He knew she was furious with David Fagin and Julian Henri. So he sent Novak to befriend them, and then actually got them to pay him to torment Julian Henri.
“When they talked, both Beauchamp and Novak decided that Julian’s father had been the bastard who’d somehow caused Jacob Devereaux’s death. Devereaux had tried and tried to get ahold of Julian’s property, but never did. He’d stolen the cane from Peter Henri, but he’d never managed to dislodge him. Making sure that David and Julian stumbled on the first victim, and then writing a threat in the mud, pretty much ruined their intended business. Though now, knowing that people do tend to like the gruesome, they may be able to start up again.”
“We know a lot,” Deerfield added, “because Novak is talking a blue streak. He’s still convinced that he’ll be the rougarou one day.”
“It’s still absolutely amazing that you found me in the middle of a swamp,” Danni said.
“More amazing is that you made it rain.” Larue grinned.
Father Ryan cleared his throat. “God made it rain. But who knows? Maybe, as the Good Witch that Danni can prove to be, her words went to God’s ear.”
“It is Southern Louisiana,” Danni noted. “It rains all the time.”
Everyone at the table turned toward Danni. She did have some powers. Sometimes it was in drawings she made while doodling or when she sleepwalked. This time?
Rain.
“Maybe the legend of the rougarou is a little bit true, and maybe the legend of the Good Witch is entirely true,” Quinn said.
“Glad I’m on her side,” Bo Ray said, and they all laughed.
“As far as finding you, I knew that Selena Duarte knew more than she was saying. I don’t think she was even being all that elusive on purpose, even though she was scared and believed that the rougarou would leave her alone as long as she kept quiet.” He shook his head. “Beauchamp actually made me really like him when we were with Selena. He reminded her that she’d die alone if she kept being so mean. I thought he cared about her. Now I realize that everything about his personality was a mask, just like the wolf’s head mask he wore.”
“How did he manage to rip out throats the way that he did?” Bo Ray asked.
“Novak did the throat ripping,” Deerfield said. “He’s had all his back teeth filed to a point. Beauchamp couldn’t do it. There were a few times when he had to be in uniform quickly. So being covered in blood wouldn’t work. Beauchamp told Jim Novak that honing his teeth was a way of preparing to be the rougarou himself.”
They all sat in silence for a
moment.
“Something scared the ‘rougarou’ off the balcony when he came into the city. I’m sure he meant to take Jane Eagle and Lana Adair,” Deerfield said.
“Probably someone in the street, or the fact that a scream would have drawn attention,” Larue said. “Those girls don’t know how lucky they are.”
“But which one came into the city as a rougarou?” Natasha asked.
“It was actually Hayden Beauchamp that night,” Larue said. “Which is probably why the girls are still alive. Beauchamp didn’t want to get caught. Novak saw himself as a rougarou in training. I don’t think he would have been scared away.”
“Let’s hope that they’re both locked up forever,” Natasha said.
“They could get the death penalty,” Father Ryan said, which brought everyone there to look at him.
He lifted his hands. “Judgment isn’t mine. I’m just referring to the law in the state of Louisiana.”
A moment later, Quinn was asked up to play with the group, which he did. And it felt wonderful. It reminded him that he was alive. That they were alive.
Good times were what made up for the bad times. Now and then, Quinn glanced at the table. He was glad to see Danni smile at him. She was having fun. And she seemed to enjoy the fact that he was happy too. There was just something about a guitar, something soothing, even when his playing was really anything but. But he loved who he was playing with, loved the night. And loved that he had kept his word to Selena Duarte and the rougarou had been caught.
It was late when they all parted. Since Dirk Deerfield was still reeling, he was going to head out on vacation. That night, he was staying at Quinn’s family home in the Garden District. The next morning he was flying off for a long awaited trip to London. They bid one another goodnight. Larue headed off in his car, as did Father Ryan and Deerfield. The rest of them piled into Quinn’s car. They dropped Natasha off first, then parked in the garage at Danni’s house on Royal Street.
Billie and Bo Ray headed up.
Danni and Quinn greeted Wolf and gave him treats.
Then Danni headed up.
Quinn checked the door to the basement. The items there had no power over anyone anymore, but Quinn still kept the basement door locked. He called to Wolf and they headed upstairs. The dog curled up in his bed. Quinn walked into the bedroom he shared with Danni.
She was waiting for him.
He smiled. “Maybe you are a witch. A temptress, driving men to madness, seducing them.”
She frowned, rising to meet him. “Quinn, I’ve never been like that.”
He laughed, taking her into his arms, loving the sensation of holding her, feeling her against him, especially with the image of her in the power of the “rougarou” still lurking in the back of his mind. For a moment, he held her tenderly. Then he caught her chin with his forefinger and lifted it.
“I mean nothing evil in that. Just teasing, my love. The cane is put away, far from the hands of those who might see it as an evil power. But your strength is entirely different and can’t be shut away. You are a witch, of course, of the best kind. You have the kind of magic that seduced my heart and soul. With your laughter, your vitality, your concern for others in the world around you, and then of course—”
He paused.
“I love you for your—”
And he whispered in her ear.
“Ah,” she said, drawing a finger gently down his cheek. “Let’s make use of all that you love.”
Her fingers then slid down the length of his back.
A good night lay ahead.
But he did want to know one thing. “Just how did you make it rain?”
“Magic,” she said. “How else?”
* * * *
Also from 1001 Dark Nights and Heather Graham, discover Crimson Twilight, When Irish Eyes Are Haunting, All Hallows Eve and Hallow Be The Haunt.
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 more from Heather Graham
Crimson Twilight: A Krewe of Hunters Novella
Click here to purchase
It’s a happy time for Sloan Trent and Jane Everett. What could be happier than the event of their wedding? Their Krewe friends will all be there and the event will take place in a medieval castle transported brick by brick to the New England coast. Everyone is festive and thrilled . . . until the priest turns up dead just hours before the nuptials. Jane and Sloan must find the truth behind the man and the murder--the secrets of the living and the dead--before they find themselves bound for eternity--not in wedded bliss but in the darkness of an historical wrong and their own brutal deaths.
When Irish Eyes Are Haunting: A Krewe of Hunters Novella
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Devin Lyle and Craig Rockwell are back, this time to a haunted castle in Ireland where a banshee may have gone wild—or maybe there’s a much more rational explanation—one that involves a disgruntled heir, murder, and mayhem, all with that sexy light touch Heather Graham has turned into her trademark style.
All Hallows Eve: A Krewe of Hunters Novella
Click here to purchase
Salem was a place near and dear to Jenny Duffy and Samuel Hall -- it was where they’d met on a strange and sinister case. They never dreamed that they’d be called back. That history could repeat itself in a most macabre and terrifying fashion. But, then again, it was Salem at Halloween. Seasoned Krewe members, they still find themselves facing the unspeakable horrors in a desperate race to save each other-and perhaps even their very souls.
Searching for Mine
A Searching For Novella
By Jennifer Probst
Acknowledgments
Ah, so many people to thank!
Smooches to the amazing 1001 Dark Nights team – Liz Berry and M.J. Rose. I’m so honored to be asked to participate in this series, and humbled to stand beside my talented fellow authors. I love this world you created!
Special shout-out to my street team, The Probst Posse. You guys helped me create Connor’s story and it was a beautiful team effort. I love brainstorming with you guys! Here’s a few specific names to thank for their specific suggestions I incorporated into the book!
Marlene Brown, Elizabeth Clinton, Stephanie Flowers Newman, Maybelline Smith, Katherine Thompson Allen, Tina Hobbs and Ada Frost
Chapter One
“A woman must have money and a room of her own if she is to write fiction”––Virginia Woolf
Connor Adam Dunkle stared at the paper. The circled letter mocked him in bright red, and with a false merriness that his professor probably relished.
A big fat F.
Imp
ossible.
His gaze scanned the bleeding type scrawl filled with unknown marks, initials, and cross outs. At the end, two sentences were written in elegant cursive they didn’t teach in school any longer.
Deduction of two letter grades for lateness. Overall, a poorly thought, shallow type paper with nothing to back up the opinion via the text.
Connor Dunkle studied the woman who was his last obstacle blocking him from getting his needed degree.
Professor Ella Blake.
If he’d ever created an image of a spinster librarian, this woman would have been his inspiration. From her drab, baggy fitting clothes, to the black glasses hiding most of her features, she practically faded into the background. Her hair was twisted up into a tight bun, giving her face a bit of a pinched look. Her gray sweater and black trousers did nothing for her figure, or her skin tone. The only brightness in her entire collage was a slash of red-orange lipstick, which became so garish with her olive skin, it literally made an onlooker jerk back.
“Many of you disappointed me with your papers. I suggest better preparation is in order to pass this class. Our first exam is Friday and there will be another paper due shortly. Please make sure you refer to the syllabus for due dates. I do not appreciate or reward lateness.”
Did she shoot him a look or was that his imagination?
Unbelievable. He’d deliberately approached her last week and explained his grueling schedule. With his demanding workload and ambitious course work, he’d specifically asked Professor Blake for an extension on the paper.
Hadn’t she agreed?
It had taken him a lot to register for college at thirty-eight years old, but he had his eye on a management position at Bilkins Construction, and he was determined to change his life. He’d taken extra courses and jammed in a four-year degree into two. Finally, graduation loomed before him, but he’d put off fulfilling his last course requirement of Composition 102. Of course, now he ended up with a sexually frustrated teacher focused on feminist literature to make excuses for her own lack of a love life.
1001 Dark Nights: Bundle Nine Page 19
