“My mother?” she croaked, ignoring his questions.
“The swat team has her in the police boat and they’re already in transit to the hospital.”
Annika exhaled the breath she’d been holding and winced in pain.
“I gotta get you out of here, too. My guess is you’ve got broken ribs, maybe a punctured lung.”
She shook her head. “Derick…” she ground out, flinching. Biting back a wave of dizziness, she lifted a hand toward the animal.
“Holy Mother of God.” The sheriff slumped back, stunned. “Is that what I think it is?”
Annika nodded, wincing again.
The creature stalked toward the cat and stared down at the twitching animal. He threw his head back and roared, the sound ominous and echoing in the dark swamp. He picked the feline up by its neck and stretched the cat length wise before snapping its spine with a sickening crunch. Snorting, he threw the animal to the ground, the cat’s body bent and unnatural.
Both forest and swamp were eerily quiet as the cat’s prone body sputtered and reshaped to a twisted human form until Jesse’s broken body lay in the muck and debris, dead.
The Dire Wolf dropped to all fours and lifted its head. The howl echoed off the trees and the night creatures answered. He swerved his enormous body with unanticipated stealth and grace, moving toward where Annika lay.
Snorting, its lips pulled back over its sharp teeth to show black gums, but it didn’t growl or snap. Its great feet padded with soft steps as it neared.
“You have that hip cannon loaded, Sheriff?”
Guy nodded, cocking the trigger. He kept the gun flush with his thigh, hidden but at the ready.
To their amazement the animal lowered its chest, crawling suppliant the closer he came. A soft whine rose as he approached and when he got to Annika’s feet, he rested his large head on both paws.
“Derick?” she murmured, and the animal whined again.
The creature picked up his head and crept closer, laying his big head on her lap.
“We need to get you cleaned up or that’s going to scar,” she wheezed, looking at his wounds caked and dirty from the fight.
He snorted, with an almost purposeful nod and moved away. With a low rumble, he curled into himself as the magic took him, the process painful to watch as he howled and writhed, his body reshaping with violent spasms.
Eyes wide, neither she nor Guy could do anything as he flung himself to all fours again, the sound of bones snapping and muscles ripping echoing in the night.
Finally Derick lay human again, panting in the dirt, and Guy approached with caution, moving him gently beside Annika. He slumped back, resting his head on her shoulder.
“I killed him,” he said, his voice expressionless.
Annika stroked his hair, not knowing what to say.
“You saved Nika, son. That’s all anyone cares about. If you didn’t jump in when you did, that son of a bitch would have killed her. You did yourself and this pack proud.”
Guy rubbed the stubble on his chin, considering. “As for Jesse, he was going to die tonight one way or the other. Either by your hand or mine, and from where I sit, it was the law of nature that prevailed.”
Derick sucked in a deep breath, wincing as he delicately probed the inside of his slashed cheek with his tongue.
“You’ll be fine,” Guy said, slapping Derick on the knee. “A few stitches and a couple of shots of bourbon and you’ll be right as rain. It’s Nika I’m worried about. I think we need to get her to the hospital. Her color ain’t right.”
Derick looked at Nika, at the pale set to her skin. He inhaled and his eyes flew to the sheriff. “She’s bleeding inside. Take her. Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine, here.”
“No! I won’t go without you.”
The sheriff slipped his gun back into its holster and used the boat to help himself up with a grunt. “Derick’s right. I’ll send the police boat back for him and he’ll meet us later.”
Annika let the sheriff help her up, but her eyes were on Derick.
He waved her on. “Go, cher. I’ll see you when I see you.”
She limped out of the burnt cypress grove on the sheriff’s arm, but as they turned toward the water she looked back. Derick was gone.
11
“Looks like you’re going to be a huge solo success, sweetheart,” Ari’s tinny voice said over the phone. “When do you think you’ll be able to come out to the coast to record?”
Annika rolled her eyes. “Not anytime soon, and I don’t want to hear a word about how short people’s memories are. If they lived through what I just did they’d have nightmares.”
“I get it, honey. You’re holding all the cards, so not to worry. How’s your mom feeling?”
Annika peered into the living room from the screened porch. Jolene and Guy were sitting on the couch talking with Tante Louise. They were in full wedding mode.
“She’s terrific. She’s been talking to someone a couple of times a week to help her deal with the aftermath of the abduction, but I think knowing Jesse can’t hurt her or me anymore helps a lot.”
“Of course, it does. He was a psycho and never going to leave you alone. I hate to say it because it’s not politically correct, but the world is better off without him. I’m glad he’s dead.”
“That makes two of us.”
“Hey, they ever find the animal that attacked him in the swamp?” She whistled low. “If that’s not a story for the Bigfoot crazies, then I don’t know what is.”
Annika didn’t reply.
“Okay, sweetheart. I’ll call you next week just to check in. Give my love to your mom.”
“I will.”
Ari hung up and Annika chewed on her lip. Did they ever find the animal that killed Jesse?
No. And neither did she—
An ache so deep sluiced through her gut, she had to wrap her arms around her middle.
No one at The Red Veil had seen Derick either. Bette had Abigail put feelers out among the vampires along the eastern seaboard, and Guy had his men scour the swamp. They even questioned the LaFonts, but there was no sign of him.
Derick was a Dire Wolf. No one knew that but her and the sheriff. They agreed not to say a word to anyone.
From the porch she looked out at the brown water lightly lapping at the shore and the swamp grasses swaying in the humid breeze. She thought back to that night in the Ramble, and how his words haunted her.
“Do you shift?”
“No.”
“But what about all that talk about our talents…”
“I didn’t say I can’t phase. I just don’t.”
“Ever?”
“Never.”
Is that why he refused to phase, then? Where there consequences and yet shifted anyway to save her?
She wished she could ask him or ask someone who might know.
Her mother’s hand slid a quiet hand over her shoulder. “Bebe?”
“I wish I could talk to him, Mama”
Her mother hugged her close. “I know, cher.”
“If for no other reason than to thank him.” Nika rested her head, tucked under her mother’s arm.
“I’m sure he knows.”
Annika shrugged. “I know we’ve exhausted every power on earth to find him, but—”
“That’s true,” her mother said cutting her off. “Every power on earth. But we haven’t tried a power beyond that.”
Annika jerked around to look at her mother.
“Mama, what are you talking about?”
“His gran-mere was a voodoo priestess, yes?”
Nika nodded. “Yes, but she’s dead.”
Jolene smiled wide. “Ah, well as it turns out there’s dead, and then there’s dead.”
Annika shook her head. “No, Mama. I’m not playing with black magic just to find someone who doesn’t want to be found.”
Jolene stared at her daughter. “Who said anything about magic?” She took her daughter by the hand. “We
’re simply going to ask Old Marie where he’s at.”
“Mama, no. This is silly.” She followed her mother into the kitchen, and there, sitting at the table was the oldest woman she’d ever seen.
Her skin was like brown leather, barely hanging on her bones, and her eyes, two glints visible through the folds and wrinkles.
She wore a white headdress and a matching cotton shift, perfect for the humidity that hung in the air night and day.
“So you the girl who captured my boy’s heart,” the old woman rasped.
Annika looked from her mother to the old lady and back again. “I don’t understand? Mama, who is this? I’m sorry, I mean no disrespect, ma’am, but who are you?”
The old lady laughed and the sound was like sandpaper, croaky and dry, ending in a fit of coughing.
Jolene poured her a glass of water and she drank deeply before looking at Annika again. “Je suis Marie Bergeron.”
Nika’s eyes flew to her mother and the woman nodded.
“Wait,” she said blinking. “You’re Old Marie? How? You’re dead! Oh my God! Derick thinks you’re dead. Jesus!”
Annika stared at the old woman. The wrinkled face was passive, as if Nika’s words were ouais enfin—yeah, well, what can I say?
“How could you let him suffer?” Nika balked. “He’s been alone all this time. Do you know what he’s been through? How this has affected him?”
Annika paced, throwing out questions and accusations at the speed of light.
“I know I want to find him, but this? How the hell will I explain this? How will you?” she muttered, half to herself.
“Ma cher enfant, there’s nothing to explain,” the old woman began. “Derick has known were to find me his entire life.”
She turned, open-mouthed. “Why, then, would you let everyone think you had died?”
“Because I wanted to be left alone, I wanted Derick to have a chance at peace. I lost my only child to a broken heart at the hands of the LaFonts, and my only grandchild lived with hurt every day afterward.
“The only way I knew to keep them from tormenting my boy was for them to think I had died giving Derick a great evil to use against them. Voodoo is a quiet religion, but it is has a dark, powerful effect on the weak-minded. Now the only other people who know my secret are you, your wonderful mother, and her man.”
Annika sunk into a kitchen chair beside the old lady. “So where is Derick?”
The old woman looked past Nika as though looking into the future and her face lit up, her eyes crinkling with delight.
“Someone looking for me?” a deep voice asked from the doorway.
Annika spun around in her chair. Derick stood on the screened porch, his face healed and the rest of him as gorgeous as ever.
Nika stood slowly, her eyes taking in every inch of him before heat flashed across her chest and up into her throat.
“I see you’re fine,” she murmured, nearly choking on the words she couldn’t say.
He nodded.
“I’m glad.” She nodded. “I just wanted to thank you for what you did for my mother and me.”
With a shrug, he smiled. “No worries, cher. I did what had to be done.”
Now it was her turn to shrug. “I suppose so.” She sucked in a breath and folded her arms across her chest. “Okay, then. That’s the last loose end in this mess to be tucked away.”
She brushed past him and let the door to the outside screen door slam as she went down the stairs toward the water’s edge.
She followed the path that lead to a private cove. This was her place, her sanctuary, where reeds danced in the evening breeze. She stood in the middle of this serenity, but all she wanted to do was scream.
“I haven’t been far, you know,” he said coming up behind her.
She stopped her fidgeting, but didn’t turn around. A million replies flew through her mind, but each one sounded childish and sour, so she kept her mouth shut.
“I needed space, Nika. I needed to think.”
She turned. “Think? About what? No one put pressure on you, Derick.”
“I know, Nika. I’m the one with the heavy questions that needed answers.”
Her gaze softened. “Because of Jesse?”
“You would think that, considering, but to be honest, no. It was you.” He shrugged.
“Me? Why? I just wanted to know what happened, why you suddenly disappeared. After all we said. After all we did—” She had to look away.
It was bad enough sex dreams about him haunted her every night. She didn’t need him to see it in her eyes.
“I know, and I’m sorry,” he replied. “If it’s any consolation I came to visit you in the hospital. Your mom, too.”
“When?”
He shrugged again. “While you were sleeping.”
“You said you weren’t far? Where have you been, then? The whole of our world has been looking for you for weeks,” she lifted a frustrated hand.
“I’ve been with gran-mere. Guy knew, but I asked him not to say anything to you or Jolene, or anyone for that matter.”
Annika looked toward the path that lead back to the house and gave it a dirty look.
“Don’t be angry with Guy.” Derick said. “He understood.”
She snorted. “It’s a man thing, right?”
“Kind of, cher.”
“What about The Red Veil? Your friends there? Your job?” she asked.
“I quit the night we left. Abigail wasn’t happy about it, but she understood. I knew the most likely outcome of finding Jesse would be a shit show. Plus, I knew I had some real soul searching to do in regard to you.”
“Me? Why?” Her eyes locked with his and she could barely breathe.
“Because I think it’s time.”
She couldn’t look away. “Time for what?”
“To tell you how I feel. I knew it the moment I thought Jesse killed you. I’ve spent my life keeping the wolf inside at bay. It’s why I left. Anger is a trigger, and I spent so much of my life angry—at my father, my brother—at my mother for being too weak to put me first instead of the LaFont lowlifes who used and abused her.
“I had to leave the bayou so I wouldn’t put my life or the lives of those I love in danger. Gran-mere knew what I was from the time I hit puberty. It was she who warned my power would only be controlled when I had something to ground me.”
Nika was almost afraid to ask. “Have you found that something?”
Derick nodded.
“What?”
“Love.” He slid his arms around her waist and pulled her close. “You.”
A soft smile spread across her lips. “Does that mean you’ll be sticking around, then?”
He nodded again. “I’m in uncharted territory, now.” He nipped at her bottom lip. “There’s so much left for me to explore.”
She walked him backwards to the bench overlooking the water. Pushing him down onto the slatted seat, she smirked unbuttoning her thin blouse.
“Good. You can start by sitting on your hands.”
Volume Four
Taste Me
The Red Veil Diaries
Marianne Morea
Coventry Press Ltd.
Coventry Press Ltd.
Somers, New York
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locations, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2017 Marianne Morea
All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions of thereof in any form whatsoever without written permission.
Printed in the USA
“…we have tasted the forbidden fruit, there is no such thing as checking our appetites, whatever the consequences may be.”
~George Washington
In a letter to Mrs. Richard Stockton,
September 2, 1783
1
“What’ll it be, ladies?” the bartender asked, flashing a hint of fang.
Eyes wide, a purple-haired girl leaned across the bar, her tits practically in the man’s face. “Oh my God! Are those real?” She gawked at his teeth.
The bartender’s eyes glowed, and he flicked his gaze to her ample cleavage stuffed in a leather halter above a tartan miniskirt. “I could ask you the same question.”
Her jaw dropped and she looked from him to her friend. “I’ve heard stories about this place and the fetish backrooms, but I never—”
“Well—” He cut her off, dragging a swizzle stick in a seductive path across the soft underside of her forearm. “There’s a first time for everything.”
The tartan girl giggled, and Daisy Cochran made a face, watching from a seat at a VIP table.
Ugh. “This place is crawling with stupid,” she mumbled, shooting the woman a dirty look. “I can’t believe I let you talk me into coming here. You know how I feel about vampires and their human chew toys.”
“Chew toys?” Aimee chuckled at her friend. “Coming from you, that’s funny.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re a Were, Daisy. A wolf. Remember? Four-legged, furred and fabulous? Weres are on the A-list now. It’s how I got these primo tables.”
Annoyed, she shot her friend a hard look. “Why don’t you shout our supernatural status from the bar Coyote Ugly style? People on the other side of the Hudson River didn’t quite hear you.”
At Aimee’s raised eyebrow, Daisy sat back with a huff. “You know what I mean.”
“Yes, I do, and that’s the problem.”
Daisy pressed her lips together. “I have no problem. Besides, you’re a shifter, too. Or doesn’t that count?”
“Of course, it counts. But I’m an avian with talons, so the analogy doesn’t apply.” Aimee winked trying to lighten her friend’s mood, but Daisy’s expression didn’t budge.
“Come on, Dais. New York City is the great equalizer. No one cares who you are or where you’re from, and this place is worth the price of admission in people watching alone. With the truce between vampires and Weres, I guarantee I’m not the only one with an interest in the undead at the top of their bucket list.”
The Red Veil Diaries (Volumes 1-4) Page 25
