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

by Alizabeth Lynn

  The door opened immediately, and familiar arms wrapped her in a warm and welcoming hug.

  “I can’t believe you actually came!” Carissa exclaimed.

  “I’ve been asking myself why I did…the whole way here.”

  Carissa pulled back and laughed. “Of course you were! I didn’t give you much to go on, did I?”

  Ophelia couldn’t hold back her smile. Carissa was always so bubbly. “No, you didn’t.”

  Her friend grabbed her by the hand and pulled her inside. Once the door closed, Carissa gestured to the couch.

  “Phia, you might want to sit down for this.” Carissa’s face went from happy to serious faster than a raging toddler whose mother just said ‘no’. That alone had Ophelia taking her advice without question. As soon as she sat down, Carissa crouched down and raised her left hand, and something bright and sparkly attracted her attention.

  “You’re engaged!”

  Carissa nodded. “That’s part of it,” she acknowledged. “But that’s not what’s going to make you want to run away screaming.”

  Ophelia watched as Carissa placed an unsteady hand against her stomach—her slightly rounded stomach. Her mouth flew open. “You’re pregnant, too? What else have I missed?”

  “If I’m right, not much. I think you know more than you may realize.”

  Ophelia remained silent, but her heart was ready to beat out of her chest. Her aunt’s warning rang loud in her ears, running right beside her own worries and suspicions. This wasn’t going to be good.

  “Do you remember when Ryan died, how I told you things didn’t seem right with his accident?”

  Ophelia nodded. “Yeah. You said the bumper damage was inconsistent with the accident. And when you showed me the accident photos, we both noticed that it looked like someone ran him off the road.”

  Carissa frowned. “I was right.”

  “Tell me you’re joking. How did you find out?”

  “Well, see, that’s where it gets tricky.” Carissa hedged as she looked away toward the hallway.

  Ophelia gripped her friend’s hands tighter until their eyes connected. “Oh, no you don’t! You’ve opened this can of worms, and you’re damn well gonna spill it.”

  Carissa opened her mouth, but the door flung open, slamming the handle into the wall in a shower of paint chips. The large figure that filled the doorway was impressive enough to have Ophelia’s jaw dropping. With his wild blond hair, and his bulging muscles encased in a tight, black t-shirt, dark blue jeans, and leather boots, he looked like a biker-pirate—and he was eyeing Carissa like he could eat her up. His dark blue eyes flashed once, but the glowing light was enough to make Ophelia gasp, and her hand flew to the hilt of her knife. She recognized his face from a few months prior, but not his name. This was Carissa’s neighbor.

  She leapt to her feet, positioning herself between her friend and the man who still hadn’t stepped inside. Ophelia narrowed her eyes. “What do you want?” She ignored Carissa’s hands pushing against her back.

  “The name’s Aden,” the man growled, “and I’m here for her.” He pointed to Carissa.

  “Yes, Phia, let me go to him,” her friend said from behind her.

  Ophelia shook her head, raising her knife as she stared at Aden. “No, Rissa. He’s dangerous. He’s a vampire.”

  “Werewolf,” Aden grumbled while Carissa said, “Fiancé.”

  Ophelia bobbled her knife, nearly losing her grip and dropping it at her feet. She stepped to the side so she could look between the two, taking in Aden’s massive frame, and her friend’s slightly rounded belly. Carissa smiled, her green eyes sparkling with mirth. Ophelia shook her head, pointing between the pair.

  “But he’s—and you’re—How the hell did that happen?”

  Aden’s mouth twitched. “Well, when a mama bear and a papa bear are madly in love…”

  Ophelia rolled her eyes while Carissa snorted with laughter. She shook the knife in Aden’s direction. “I know how it happened. What I want to know is how did it happen? You can’t be two different creatures!”

  Aden raised an eyebrow as he crossed his beefy arms over his broad chest. “Well, as I’m standing here, having just drank a cup of blood after shifting to and from my wolf form, I can assure you it is possible.”

  “Wait, a cup of blood?”

  “Yeah, he doesn’t bite people, Phia. He’s not dangerous. Really.”

  The knife slid back into its sheath. “The jury’s still out on that,” Ophelia said dryly. She turned back to Aden. “Why’d you come slamming in here, anyway? I’m not a danger to my friend.”

  Sighing, Aden dropped his arms and closed the door. He spoke to Carissa. “Garrett and I were scouting the perimeter, and we caught the scent of another vampire.”

  Carissa waved her hand dismissively. “Daniel was here night before last.”

  Ophelia stiffened at the name, but said nothing as Aden crossed the room and took Carissa’s hands in his. “It wasn’t him, Rissa. Where’s Gwen?”

  “In her room. Why?”

  “Because the scent stopped at her window, and she’s got the only bedroom on the first floor.” He slid a wary glance toward Ophelia. “You any good with that knife?”

  Ophelia raised her left hand, palm up. A red light flashed, and suddenly fire sparked half an inch above her skin. Aden’s eyes popped wide, and she used his distraction to whip the knife from its sheath and lay the cold blade against his neck. He gulped. Ophelia closed her fist as the fire sputtered out. She pulled the knife away, her movements slow and focused.

  “I’m not without my wiles.”

  Aden took a tentative step backward and raised his hands. “I can see that.” He reached out and placed a hand on Carissa’s shoulder. “Stay in here. Your friend and I will go check out Gwen’s room.”

  “My name is Ophelia, and I’ll help.” She gave Aden a pointed look. “For Carissa. The jury’s still out on you.”

  Carissa smiled. “Thank you.”

  Ophelia followed Aden down the hall, keeping her footsteps light as they neared the closed door at the end. The house was silent around them, the only sound the beating of her heart in her ears. She held her knife at the ready, blade down, the blunt edge against her wrist—her favorite position for fighting.

  Aden pressed his ear to the door, then crossed his hand in front of his throat to let her know he heard nothing. His movements slow, he gently twisted the doorknob and pushed the door open. There was no one in the room, but it was a wreck.

  The pillows were no longer on the bed, but slashed, feathers removed, to lay like bloodless, slaughtered geese on the floor. The mattress fared no better, the boards and wires of the box spring broken and scattered atop the mutilated pillow top. Sheets and blankets hung from every surface, slashed beyond repair. The dresser and nightstand were overturned, their contents thrown about, the destroyed innards of wounded furniture.

  Aden closed his eyes and inhaled deeply as Ophelia pushed open the partially closed closet door with the toe of her shoe. It was the only space in the room that remained untouched. And there, on the floor, was a crumpled piece of paper. She picked it up as Aden moved to her side.

  “What’s that?” he asked.

  “I’m not sure yet–” she said as she smoothed it out– “but I think it’s a note.”

  “Maybe it’ll say what happened. I smelled blood, but I didn’t see any. That means the vampire either had it on his clothes when he took Gwen, or he bit her, and I hope it was the first.”

  Ophelia held the paper up to the light. The pencil marks were faint, but she could just make out an address. She showed it to Aden. “Do you know where this is?”

  His eyes grew cold. “Yeah. That’s the address for the motel on the way out of town. The vampire must have dropped it. That’s where the Council puts up all of its flunkies when they come to town.” He closed his eyes for a moment. “This is going to devastate Carissa. Gwen’s pregnant, too.”

  Ophelia warred with her con
science over his obvious concern. Neither vampires, nor werewolves were trustworthy, in her experience, but he didn’t seem to fit the mold she’d grown accustomed to sliding creatures into. With a sigh, she slipped her knife back into its sheath and placed a gentle hand on his arm.

  “I’ll do whatever I can to help.”

  She gestured to the paper. “This handwriting is familiar, and if it’s who I think it is, time is of the essence if y’all want to see Gwen alive again.”

  She turned to walk toward the hall, but Aden stopped her with a hand on her shoulder. “Why would a vampire’s handwriting be familiar to you?”

  Ophelia shook her head. “That doesn’t matter. We need to tell Carissa what’s going on. You said Gwen is pregnant. Is she married?”

  “Yeah. Her husband is third in pack command, just under me. He’s going to want to go off on his own.”

  Ophelia stopped just shy of the living room entrance. “You can’t let that happen,” she whispered. “Look, I’ll handle Rissa. You head him off before he realizes what’s going on. If you and the pack master both smelled the vampire’s scent, it’s only a matter of time before the rest of the pack realizes something is going on.”

  Aden frowned. “You’re right. Okay, you head her off in the living room. I’ll head out the back to find Rafe.” He paused as he passed her, his eyes glinting in the semi-darkened hallway. “Thank you for doing this.”

  Ophelia nodded, and jerked her thumb toward the living room. “I’d do anything for my friends. Carissa trusts you, and I trust her, so I guess you’re a friend now. Be careful.”

  “Always.”

  Chapter Five

  A white-gloved finger traced idly around the rim of the glass. Cigar smoke stung the air, the sweet tang of the imported masterpiece lingering on his tongue as he surveyed the crystal ball on the table before him. Such trappings were…frivolous, at best, but they served their purpose without as much ocular strain as seeing. A dark chuckle escaped his lips, more smoke puffing as he exhaled. His little sorceress thought she was smart, smarter than him, his vampires—everyone. Oh, but he knew the truth.

  He knew what dirty secrets lay in her bleeding heart, what dangerous and horrible things she’d done. Oh, yes, he knew. He knew because he’d seen her do them. Not in the crystal, and not in the water, but in glorious, full-colored person. The finger on the goblet continued to stroke as a smile played over the thin lips around the cigar. He could still see the blood, still smell the sharp perfume of death. It surrounded him, thicker and more poignant than the smoke greying his room.

  The memory excited him, drawing forth another laugh, another smile, another stroke of the glass as the images in the crystal continued to move. He watched as she levered herself above the man—the man who should have been dead by her hand. But no. Instead, that hand, that hand that had so skillfully ended many a life under his employ, stroked the bare chest of a vampire. His smile pressed down, his teeth biting into the end of his cigar, filling his mouth with the unsavory flakes of wet tobacco.

  Cursing, he set the mangled cigar in a nearby ashtray, and spit the offending taste to the carpet beside him. He’d have someone clean it shortly, but he had more important things on his mind at the moment. With a flick of an impatient wrist, the images in the crystal changed—the sting of pleasured past filling his eyes, his heart. She glowed in the light of the full moon, her dark brown hair and sparkling green eyes gleaming with happiness. A young man, dark and distinguished in a charcoal grey suit bowed before her, handing the pretty woman a ribbon-wrapped gift of bright red roses.

  She buried her nose in the fragrant petals, her full, pink, lips turning up at the corners in a shy smile. She spoke, then, the words muted in the crystal, but he didn’t need to hear them to remember. He didn’t need to hear them to hurt. She’d delivered the wound with such grace, such unflinching beauty, such…happiness. And the knife twisted in his heart all over again.

  A snap of his fingers, and the crystal was once again smooth, unfettered, glass—innocently hiding its secrets behind the veil of the sorcerer’s mind. His finger stilled its tracing, and he took a sip of the dark red liquid within the glass, feeling his energy return with every tangy drop. Both women would pay, both the young and the old. They all would. He held the power quite literally in the palm of his hand, and when he arrived in Jaune, there would be no more mistakes.

  Ophelia squared her shoulders and took a deep breath before taking the last few steps into the living room. Carissa was looking toward the kitchen.

  “I heard someone go outside. Was it Aden?”

  “Yeah. Rissa, sit down, please.”

  Carissa’s eyes went wide, and she reached out, grabbing Ophelia’s hand in a vice-like grip. “Where’s my sister?”

  Ophelia gently tried to force her to sit, but her friend wouldn’t budge. “Where’s my sister, Phia?”

  “Sit down, and I’ll tell you. Please, Rissa. If not for me, then for your baby. Please,” she said again, and Carissa finally sat.

  “If Aden left, it can’t be good. She wasn’t there, was she?”

  Ophelia shook her head. “No. I’m sorry, but she wasn’t, and it looks like there was a struggle. Aden said there wasn’t any blood–” she conveniently left out the fact that he’d smelled some– “but the room is a disaster. Aden’s gone to find her husband.”

  Carissa closed her eyes and leaned against the cushions. “Okay, yeah. If Rafe found out on his own, he’d go rogue, and we can’t have that. Better to head him off.”

  “That’s what we were thinking.” She sat down beside her friend and took Carissa’s hand in hers. “There’s something else, Rissa.” Ophelia waited until she opened her eyes before showing her the slip of paper. “This was found in her room. Aden says it’s the address to the motel on the way out of town—the one the Council uses when they send someone down here.”

  “Are you saying the Council is behind this? Gwen hasn’t done anything. Hell, neither has Rafe, for that matter.”

  Ophelia frowned, and squeezed Carissa’s hand. “I don’t think this was because of them.” She waved the paper. “I know this handwriting, and no one needs to do anything to piss him off. He’s doing whatever he’s doing because he likes to inflict pain, and the chances are good that she’s just bait.”

  “What are you saying? Are they trying to get to Aden?”

  “No, honey. I think they’re trying to get to you.”

  Carissa sat forward, startled. “But why? What did I do?”

  “You got Ryker killed.”

  “Well, he and my father—wait. How do you know?”

  Ophelia waved her hand. “I just do, but that’s not important right now. What’s important is that your sister is missing. I already told Aden, but now I’m telling you: I’ll do whatever I can to help, but you need to be prepared for the worst.” She shook the paper. “I wouldn’t wish this guy on my worst enemy.”

  Pressing a trembling hand to her mouth, Carissa sat back with her eyes closed. Silent sobs shook her shoulders, but no tears fell. Ophelia held her hand, and waited for her friend to regain her composure. Slowly, her arm lowered, her damp eyes glittering as she looked at Ophelia.

  “Aden needs to be here for the pack, and I’m in no condition to do any good, but you’re only one person. Would you be willing to work with a friend of ours? He’s got a lot of experience dealing with chaos, and he’s helped both Aden and me out of some pretty tough spots.”

  A chill skittered up her spine, dread churning in Ophelia’s stomach as she processed her friend’s question. Something told her that her dreams were about to come true, ready or not.

  “Who?” she asked quietly.

  Carissa smiled. “His name is Daniel Blackwood. I think you’ll like him. He’s quite a bit like Aden, trustworthy and loyal – and they’re related. You couldn’t find a better partner.”

  Ophelia didn’t respond, but she wasn’t as certain as her friend. Carissa patted her on the arm. “I know how much you va
lue your privacy, Phia,” she told her, misunderstanding, “but we need to find Gwen, and since I can’t help…”

  “I know.” Ophelia sighed. “I’ll do whatever it takes. You have my word.”

  Carissa gripped her hand tightly. “Thank you. This means everything to me.”

  Leaning over, Ophelia wrapped her friend in a tight hug. “I know,” she repeated.

  Ophelia brought her pickup to a stop in the parking lot adjacent to Chicken Park. In the inky darkness, it looked the same as it had a few months ago, when she and Eleanor had rescued Carissa from Ryker. Now Ryker was dead, and Ophelia would once again be rescuing someone, but this time it would be the sister of her friend…and she’d be expected to do it alongside a possibly dangerous vampire ally. She sat down on one of the benches and put her head in her hands.

  The humid bayou breeze stirred her red hair around her shoulders, blocking out the moonlight that the tree branches didn’t hide. She’d given her word to her friend, but damn it, there was no way she could work with Daniel. No way. And it wasn’t just because she didn’t like vampires. Ophelia pulled the note from her pocket, tracing the words with a trembling fingertip. Jeremiah, the right-hand torture expert of Myrick, the most powerful sorcerer alive.

  Shoving the note back into her pocket with a grunt of disgust, she shot to her feet. Carissa and Aden had no idea just how bad this war of theirs was, but Ophelia did. Oh, yes, she did. Almost as if on cue, her cell phone chimed for an incoming text. Yanking it from her other pocket, she keyed in her passcode, and swiped a finger across the screen to bring up the message.

  Do not get involved, Ophelia. You know the consequences.

  Great. A conflict of interest. Closing out the screen, Ophelia cursed under her breath. She couldn’t say she was surprised. Of course they were watching her. They’d been watching her for years. Shuddering, she returned to her truck, cranking the engine and locking the doors. The smart thing would be to get out of Jaune and leave everyone behind, safe, as she’d never be.