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

by Alizabeth Lynn

  They walked back into the house before Daniel spoke again. “Created how?”

  “Well, that’s where it gets a bit complicated. I’m actually a bit of both lines.”

  “You’ve lost me.”

  She laughed. “Sorry. The first half I take after was created by God to be the champions of the human race. We were meant to protect His creations from the vampires Lilith spawned in her dalliance with demons. The other half was created by sorcery sometime in the fourteenth century. The sorcerer had three sons, and he imbibed two of them with the strength of wolves and bats. Unfortunately, that’s also where we get the bad apples—wolves with evil hearts. Sorcerers and vampires are, in the end, human at the core of it, and infallible as such, but I don’t think those sorcerers are much to worry about right now.”

  Daniel took a deep breath. “Then I’m not going to bother with them. Not until I need to, anyway.” He reached up to rub his jaw. “So, we have vampires, werewolves, sorcerers, and sorceresses—and probably even more magickal oddities that we haven't heard of, yet?”

  Carissa leaned against the nearest wall, and gazed down at Daniel when he sat back down and leaned against the couch cushions. “That’s the way it looks. I agree that there are probably more magickally evolved people than we know. If people like us exist, who knows what other beings could be out there.”

  She stopped talking as her eyes popped wide. With a little oh of realization, Carissa rushed over to the bookshelf against the far wall, retrieving something from one of the upper shelves. She grinned at him, waving her cell phone.

  While she waited for it to power on, she turned to Daniel and laughed. “I’ve just realized I know someone who is a sorceress – two someones, actually, but my nana—” Carissa shook her head. “I can’t ask her to help with this, so it’ll have to be my friend. God knows Phia’s always been an odd duck—a delightful one, but odd nonetheless—and we’ve hardly spoken in the last month. But she was there with Eleanor the night they rescued me from my first meeting with Ryker. She commanded magick then, and I believe she might be willing to use that power to – I don’t know – help if things are as dire as they feel—if this war is really happening on the scale you and Aden think it is.”

  “Why not Eleanor?”

  Carissa shook her head again. “She’s got enough to worry about. After my father kidnapped my mother – long story – she took it upon herself to get my mom back into some sort of normal life routine. It’s taken a lot out of her, even though she won’t admit it.” She frowned. “My mom’s not the same anymore.”

  “Ah.” Was all he said, as the phone in Carissa’s hand dinged, signaling an unread text.

  She looked down, her frown twisting up into a relieved smile. “Well, speak of the devil. My best friend, Daniel, and she’s already texted me. I don’t know why she’s been silent so long, but now I wonder if it’s connected to this war of yours, or if it’s something to do with her power.”

  Daniel scratched his chin. “But why do you suddenly think she’s a sorceress? She could have dropped off for some personal time.”

  “Did you miss the part where I said she commanded magick?”

  “No, but you also said she was with Eleanor. Maybe your grandmother was the source, and your friend was just a figurehead.”

  Carissa laughed. “No. I know what I saw, and I don’t think it’s a coincidence. My gut says she’s connected.”

  Daniel nodded as he rose to his feet. She’d given him more information than she knew. “In that case, I’ll leave you to your conversation.” He gave Carissa a quick hug, and left before she could stop him.

  With the latter part of what she’d said, he had many thoughts to occupy his mind, and preferred to do his thinking on his own.

  Ophelia sat down at her table and simply stared at the wood. She didn’t look up, even when Janice walked in and sat down in the chair beside her. “I know what he is,” Ophelia whispered.

  “I take it you talked to Eleanor?”

  “I did. I wish I didn’t, but I did. Aunt Jan…I’m screwed.”

  Janice placed a warm hand on top of hers. “Honey, it can’t be that bad.”

  Ophelia looked up, then. “He’s a vampire, and per Eleanor, the love of my life.”

  “Whoa.”

  “That’s what I said.”

  “Eleanor could be wrong. Her powers aren’t infallible.”

  Sighing, Ophelia rose to pace around the table. She didn’t want to admit what she’d felt seeing Daniel through the ice-ball—the whip-snapped attraction that nearly sent her to her knees, so she twisted her fingers together, and looked anywhere but at her aunt.

  “That’s true. Besides, I doubt he’s here in Jaune, so it’s not like I’ll run into him at work or something. Avoiding a vampire shouldn’t be that difficult, right?”

  Janice leaned back in her chair. “Right. If you stick to only going out during the day, and take the steps to find out where he is, I don’t think you’ll have any problems.”

  “You think I’m being ridiculous.”

  “Not at all. I wouldn’t want to fall for a vampire, either. One mortal husband was enough for me.”

  Ophelia smiled. “You and Uncle Tommy were made for each other.”

  “That we were. You know, I told him we would get married—when we were ten. He just laughed and kissed my hand, but I was right.”

  “You miss him still.”

  Janice returned her smile. “Every day, but it gets easier with time.”

  Ophelia stopped, taking a long look at her aunt. Janice’s long brown hair was loose around her shoulders, and the sparkle in her green eyes was clear. “You’re seeing someone!”

  Her aunt laughed. “I am.”

  “So, spill.”

  Janice shook her head. “Not a chance. This is about you and your vampire.”

  “He’s not my vampire.”

  “He might be.”

  “He won’t be.”

  “And that light in your eyes when you talk of him is nothing, then?”

  Ophelia’s hands clutched together. “You’re imagining things.”

  Janice laughed. “Tell me that again when you do meet him.”

  “Wait. You just said I could avoid him. What do you know? What have you seen in the water?”

  Her aunt laughed again, and stood, hands up. “I’ve seen nothing you don’t already know.”

  “And that would be?”

  Janice looked at the clock on the microwave. “Oh, would you look at the time! I have an appointment in Shreveport first thing in the morning. I need to get some sleep.”

  “But—”

  Her aunt walked over and kissed her on the forehead. “I love you, Phia. Now, don’t let it bother you. You’ll be fine.”

  “But—” she began again, but her aunt was already out of the kitchen. An image of Daniel’s handsome face flitted through her mind, tugging a short-lived smile to her lips.

  “Well, crap,” she muttered.

  Chapter Four

  The next day passed in a blur, the colors and sounds of people shopping in the little store a dull and throbbing backsplash to the myriad of disturbing thoughts in Ophelia’s head. Carissa, her best friend wanted to see her. Well, at least she thought Carissa wanted to see her—texting back a response with nothing but an address was suspicious to say the least. A million times throughout the day, Ophelia almost brought the message up to Eleanor, but something about the glint in the old woman’s eyes had her holding her tongue. No, better to keep their conversations on business and nothing more until she had her wits about her.

  Luck was with her on her schedule, and she left four hours before closing, stopping at Taco Bell on the way home. Aunt Jan wouldn’t be there until tomorrow, as she’d had a doctor’s appointment in Shreveport that morning, and was spending the rest of the day and the night catching up with friends. Ophelia could cook rather well, but her heart wasn’t in it. She wanted to eat some gut-busters and, since she finished her other
book, curl up with her worn-out copy of Secrets by E.H. Demeter, one of her favorite paranormal romance writers. If a naked Marsh Darrow couldn’t take her mind off the sexy vampire haunting her dreams, then she should probably just hunt him down and fall into his arms.

  She swung her pickup into her driveway and cursed under her breath. That kind of thinking would get her into trouble, without a doubt. She leaned her head against her steering wheel and let out a sigh. Now would be the perfect time for a heart-to-heart chat with Aunt Janice, but she wasn’t available. Of course, she could have talked with her mother, but no, the woman had to run off when she was a toddler and never look back. She shook that thought out of her head, grabbing the take-out bag on her way out of the truck. Her aunt would be home soon enough, but Ophelia didn’t really want to talk to her about it, either. What she needed was a good friend…

  Plucking her phone from her purse as she set her things on the kitchen table, she keyed in her password, and opened her text messages, staring at the one from Carissa. Cursing again, she closed the app and opened her contact list. She had a friend that studied the occult in college, but as far as she knew, said friend didn’t actually believe magick was real. Ophelia could prove it to her, but...no, that was probably a bad idea. With another curse, she scrolled down to another name. He was a last resort, but better than nothing. Before she could stop herself, Ophelia sent a short text, knowing it would be received eagerly, and sat down to devour food and words.

  She’d just finished her last taco, and a terrifying fight scene, when there was a knock on her door. Already second-guessing her decision to text him, Ophelia rose to let in her ex-boyfriend, and good friend, Stephen. His burly arm wrapped her in a side-splitting hug the minute she opened the door. He took her hand as they sat down on the couch in her living room.

  “You’ve had more dreams, haven’t you?” he asked without preamble.

  Ophelia gaped at him. “How did you know?”

  “You look wounded, and that’s how it always is. Do you want to tell me about it?”

  “I think I need to.”

  “But you don’t want to.”

  Ophelia’s laugh was short. “No, I don’t.”

  Stephen slid closer, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. He pressed his lips close to her ear and whispered, “So why don’t I distract you?”

  Laughing, Ophelia turned toward him, intending to argue, but she found his mouth on hers, moving with more skill than she remembered. Her lips parted in protest—words of refusal at the ready—but he took it as an invitation, his tongue darting forward to dance with hers. And she tasted power. Dark and tangy, and as potent as fresh berries on the vine. This wasn’t the tame man she remembered, and he wasn’t anything like the man in her dreams.

  Momentarily stunned, Ophelia pulled away, and attempted to cover her shock with a shaky laugh. She pushed him off the couch, where he landed with a thud—he was still Stephen, her friend, no matter what else might have changed. “Can’t you keep it in your pants for one night?”

  “Not when I’m around you,” he told her, winking. “But, hey, at least I made you laugh.”

  “That’s true.” She took a deep breath. “The man in my dreams, um, he’s a vampire,” she blurted out.

  “A what? Ophelia, tell me you’re joking.”

  She looked down and away from him as he stood. “I wish I could, but he’s still…existing. I don’t know how. I know those dreams take place sometime in the 1700s, which shouldn’t be possible, but...” She stopped talking and sighed again.

  The couch cushion dipped down as he sat beside her once again. “But something’s happened to convince you it’s all true.”

  Ophelia nodded. “Yeah.” She leaned her head on his shoulder. “I don’t know where to go from here.”

  “Why don’t you look for him? Get the answers you want directly from the source.”

  “NO!”

  Stephen threw his hands up and leaned away. “Damn. Sorry for suggesting it.”

  “No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t snap at you, but, as of right now, I have no desire to find him. You know me—I’m no stranger to the paranormal crap. But this? This is a bit much.”

  “Well, you know I’m always here if you need me.”

  “I do know.” Ophelia’s lips curved as she looked at him. “That’s why I called you. I figured if there was anyone who could pull me out of my funk, it was you.”

  Stephen grinned back, inclining his head. “So, what does my master wish of me?” He waggled his eyebrows and drew a finger softly down her arm, sending goosebumps skittering across her flesh.

  Chuckling, Ophelia smacked his hand away. “Not that, you goober. How about we watch a scary movie, and once I pass out from fear, you can make sure my doors are latched on your way out?”

  He reached around and pulled her close for another tight side-hug. He pressed a chaste kiss to the top of her hair. “I can do that.”

  True to his word, Stephen locked up, leaving Ophelia sprawled out across her couch. She awoke the next morning to the sun streaming through the window, and her mind clearer than it had been in weeks. While eating a quick breakfast of toast and eggs chased by copious amounts of strong, black coffee, she sent a text to Carissa.

  What time do you want me to come by?

  The reply came back within seconds: The minute the sun sets.

  A chill skittered up Ophelia’s spine as her nerves jumped at the possible implications of her friend’s words. Coincidence or not, it was strange that Carissa chose that time of day, and now Ophelia wondered if she’d be facing more than her friend before the day was over. With a sigh, she briefly lamented the fact that she wouldn’t get any more sleep with a full belly floating in caffeine, before heading off to take a shower, her mind back on Stephen’s visit.

  His kiss had been pleasant enough, but it didn’t carry the same spark that it used to, nor did his lips have the same flavor she remembered. He tasted earthier now, not necessarily more masculine, but more powerful. She shook her head. Even her thoughts didn’t know how to articulate the change. All she knew for sure was that the man she saw last night was somehow different than the man she broke up with last year, and the difference bothered her—possibly more so because she couldn’t pinpoint why.

  Pushing that unsettling feeling to the back of her mind, Ophelia let herself daydream as hot water sluiced over her body—a big mistake if she was intent on keeping her mind at ease. Immediately, her thoughts were filled with six foot three inches of blond-haired, blue-eyed, muscular man. Just looking at him, she knew if he were to kiss her, she wouldn’t be so blasé about the situation. Lost in the thought of his kiss, she didn’t notice when her daydream turned into a link between the two of them.

  Shaggy hair fell across his forehead as his eyes glimmered in the moonlight streaming through a nearby window. His sculpted mouth smiled as he stretched his hand toward her. Ophelia took it, following him into another dark room. He let go of her hand at the door, and walked to the bed in the middle of the space. He sat down and gestured for her to come to him. She understood that the decision would be hers, so with a deep breath, she took the first step, but with every step she took thereafter, Daniel became farther and farther away. She reached for him, her heartbeat drumming in her ears, but he only smiled sadly as she was pulled back into the void.

  Ophelia came too, slumped down in the tub under a spray of ice-cold water. Shivering, she switched off the water and clambered out to wrap herself in a towel. Stupid, stupid, stupid, she thought—it was stupid to daydream, knowing that opening her mind would invite more than idle fancies. Walking to her bedroom, she heard sounds in the kitchen, and knew her aunt was home, but she didn’t feel like company.

  Slinking back into her room like a guilty child, Ophelia threw on clothes she didn’t see, and sat on the edge of her bed. She scrubbed her hands over her face and stayed there, trying not to think. It was no use. He filled her thoughts whether she wanted him to or not. Cursing under her
breath, she stomped to her feet, stalking to stand before her bedroom window. So what if Eleanor is right? So what if he is supposed to be my other half? That was probably before he became a disgustingly lecherous blood-drinker. Anyone with any common sense knew a relationship between a human and a paranormal creature was a bad idea.

  And Ophelia knew that better than most.

  Stepping back from the window, Ophelia wrapped her arms around her middle. It seemed Stephen hadn’t been a good enough distraction after all. With a long sigh, she threaded her fingers gently through her wet hair and carefully plaited it in a long braid down her back. She wasn’t a coward, and she needed a better distraction. The scent of strong coffee and bacon wafted down the hall, and pulled a smile to her lips. She still didn’t really feel like company, but her aunt was the closest person Ophelia had to a mother, so she was the perfect decision.

  She’d unload her worries on her aunt, and be able to meet her friend that night with a clear mind and an open heart. What could possibly go wrong?

  Ophelia stared through the windshield into the darkening twilight, her nerves frayed, keeping her on edge. Aunt Jan had been more distracted than usual during their conversation that afternoon, and she’d become downright worried when Ophelia mentioned meeting Carissa after dark. Her aunt had even gone so far as to ask her not to go—a request Ophelia respectfully declined.

  She shook her head, focusing on the rutted, muddy road before her. Aunt Jan’s strange behavior notwithstanding, Ophelia drove her pickup through the murky puddles, and prayed her GPS wasn’t leading her astray. After that conversation, and the one with Eleanor, she desperately wanted more answers, even if it meant taking a chance and hauling her butt into the middle of nowhere at night to see her friend. With a grim smile at her own foolishness, she tapped the hilt of the hunting knife sheathed on her belt. At least she wouldn’t be helpless if what was in the darkness got too carried away.

  Sighing, Ophelia made her last turn down another shadowy red dirt road, and felt some measure of relief when a large white house came into view. Before she could talk herself out of it, she threw the truck in park and cut the engine. Using the glow from her headlights before they automatically shut off, she walked straight up to the front door, and knocked softly on the worn wooden surface.