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

by Alizabeth Lynn

  Ophelia shook off his grip on her shoulders and grabbed his hand, tugging him toward her truck. “Yeah, that’s good and all, but that doesn’t tell us where they are.”

  Daniel smiled bitterly. “Actually, it does.”

  She slanted him a glance as she climbed into the passenger seat, tossing him the keys over the top of the pickup. “Care to fill in the peanut gallery?”

  “Do you know the general store on Highway 157?”

  Ophelia nodded. “The one at the entrance to Bodcau Dam and the campgrounds, right?”

  “That’s the one. Fergus likes to conduct his business in the back room there. I’d bet my immortality that’s where they are.” Daniel paused for a moment, and she saw the corners of his mouth turn down in a frown. “We should leave Serena out of this. I don’t think they know she’s on our side yet.”

  Ophelia gave him a curious look as he pulled out of her driveway. She wondered if that was the only reason he didn’t want his…companion to come with them. She saw the way Serena looked at him.

  Daniel glanced in her direction, but didn’t say anything. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see concern on his face. Ophelia tried not to think about what they were about to do. She rolled her neck, tension building, despite her best efforts. Daniel looked at her again, and she met his eyes briefly.

  He reached over and placed his hand on hers. “Are you ok, Phia?”

  Without thinking, she turned her hand over, linking her fingers with his.

  “I will be,” she told him, “Let’s just get this over with.”

  An hour and a half later, having broken speeding laws in more than one parish, Daniel and Ophelia arrived at their destination. The neon sign in the window told them the store was open, and customers filtered in and out at a steady pace.

  Ophelia stepped from her truck and slid her gun into the waistband of her jeans, thankful she’d taken Carissa’s advice a few nights back and replaced her regular bullets with ones made of silver. She leaned over the side and grabbed a length of rope from the bed.

  Daniel watched her through the window for a moment before he climbed out and joined her. “Is this the best plan we’ve got?” he asked her, eyeing the rope skeptically.

  She glanced up at him, fire in her eyes, the moon glinting dully off her tightly plaited hair. “If we go in there with you free, they’re going to see through us in a millisecond. Do you want to give them cause to bite first and ask questions later? I don’t know about you, but I don’t relish the bite of a werewolf.”

  Cursing under his breath, Daniel allowed Ophelia to tie his hands behind his back. They both knew he could break through the rope, but that wasn’t the point. They needed Fergus to believe them.

  As they walked around the side of the building, away from the customers, Daniel wished they had Aden’s potion. He’d mentioned it on the trip over, but it was already too late to try and get it from his grandson, or a replacement from Eleanor. Wielding the potion, they could keep Ophelia from having to use her gun. Sighing, Daniel shook his head. There was no use wishing for something he couldn’t change.

  At the back of the building, they came across a dark metal door with a sign that read, “Employees only”. Daniel nodded to Ophelia, and she knocked on the door. It creaked open, but no one stood behind it. They heard whimpering from inside, but there wasn’t a single person visible.

  Cautiously, Ophelia pulled the door the rest of the way open, squinting into the blue light coming from within. In the center of the room, she could make out a figure tied to a chair, but she couldn’t see any other people in the room, and there was no sign of the man who’d made the call.

  Ophelia grabbed Daniel by the arm and dragged him inside, the chill down her spine intensifying with every step, her mind screaming, trap, trap, TRAP! The moment they crossed the threshold, the door slammed shut and the lock clicked home, confirming her suspicions.

  Spinning around, Ophelia saw three men laughing as they were locked inside. Jericho, from the Barnwell Center, was there with his bulbous eyes protruding as he sneered. In the farthest corner on the same wall stood another man, tall, with red hair, piercing blue eyes, and a curious sense of familiarity. And directly behind the door was the third man. He was shorter than Ophelia and had a pronounced overbite, and narrow, beady eyes—she immediately pegged the latter as Squeaky Nuts, otherwise known as Fergus. He looked like the most likely candidate for a complex.

  Ophelia tossed her head, the heat of fire tinging her vision red. “Well, isn’t this a party? I see how it is. I bring you what you want,” She pulled Daniel over next to her, using her body to hide the fact that he was untying the rope behind his back, “And this is how you conduct our meeting? Tsk, tsk. I guess chivalry’s dead after all.”

  Jericho stepped forward, her handprint an angry welt on his cheek. “I should kill you for this,” he hissed at her, glowering with the good side of his face. “Unfortunately, I have my orders. I’m just here to make sure we get what we want.”

  Fergus moved beside Jericho. “Don’t you want to see your mommy?”

  Ophelia’s heartbeat went into overdrive. She looked in the direction he gestured. Her eyes adjusted to the light, she could see the chair clearly, and she could also see no one was tied to it. She took a step forward before she could stop herself.

  “Mom?” she whispered.

  The woman in question stood up gracefully, brown hair pulled back in a ponytail, her green eyes sparkling. Her smile looked genuine, but something about it made Ophelia’s nerves shudder. She scooted closer to Daniel, pressing her shoulder to his. His muscles bunched, and she prayed that meant the knot was undone.

  Fergus and Jericho sauntered over to her mother, and Daniel turned. Ophelia prayed some more, but this time that the other man couldn’t see behind Daniel’s back. Her mother stepped closer, stopping an arm’s reach away. She looked her daughter up and down.

  “You’ve grown up well, Olphie. I have to wonder though, why are you in the middle of this?”

  Ophelia shook her head, horrified that her instincts were right. She could see the fangs in her mother’s mouth. The woman wasn’t even trying to hide them. It was a trap, and her mother was a part of it. Ophelia’s mouth went bone dry, but she forced herself to speak.

  “What’s going on, Mom?”

  Her mother shrugged, and Fergus giggled. There was a rustling sound, and the unknown man walked a little closer to Ophelia. She glanced at him, and could have sworn he winked at her.

  Shocked, she refocused on her mother, her heart pounding in her throat. Daniel pressed firmly against her side, giving her comfort. The feel of his arm so solid beside her gave her the strength to calm down before speaking again.

  Ophelia took a deep breath. “Tell me why. You owe me that much.”

  Her mother laughed. The woman looked at her companions. “I suppose it’s the least I can do.” She began to pace, waving her hands as she spoke, “I was born in 1967, a scrawny little thing my impoverished parents named Octavia. I grew up in Bossier City with less to eat than the stray dogs asking for scraps, yet the state never took me away from those people.” Her voice was deadpan, emotionless and distanced—a stark contrast to the furious look on her face, and the angry gestures her hands made in the air.

  “My father worked three jobs for nothing, and died when I was twelve. My mother followed when I was seventeen.” She paused and looked at Ophelia. “By that time, I’d met Travis Boudreaux. He was an aspiring football player, pulling in scholarships from everywhere. He planned to play for LSU when we graduated.

  “Unfortunately, at the senior homecoming game, he was injured, and his legs were never the same. I was back to square one – looking at a future as poor as the one I was raised in – but I didn’t want to be alone, so I listened to his false promises, his assurances that he could still work, still provide me with the level of comfort I deserved. I married him the week following our graduation, and had you not long after.

  “So...in
February of 1986, I became a mother. I was still poor, but at least I had you, right?” Her voice raised, no longer unfeeling, her tone reflecting the glares she shot in Ophelia’s direction. “Wrong! Your father wanted more, but I there was no way I was going to lie with him again—not for that purpose. One weak spawn of his was enough for me. I tried, I really did, but your father wouldn’t compromise.

  “He never raised above his position as a mechanic. He never went to college like he promised – never gave me the life I was supposed to live. So, when you were two, I went looking for it on my own. That’s when I found Jasmine.”

  Ophelia glanced up as Daniel jerked against her. He held his head down, every feature expressionless, except for his eyes. They fumed, burning with angry fire. Octavia laughed.

  “Oh yes, and your Daniel, too. Would you like to know what happened next, sweet daughter of mine?”

  Daniel’s head whipped up, the guilt in his eyes unmistakable. She smiled, deliberately showing fangs, and queasiness churned in Ophelia’s stomach.

  “Oh yes, baby girl,” Octavia purred, “your man right there had a rather interesting role to play in my induction into this life. You see, I found Daniel and Jasmine in quite the compromising position, naked as the day they were born, and they didn’t care for the interruption.

  “Jasmine held me down while your honey, there, used me as a late-night snack. Now, I won’t lie and say he’s the one who changed me. No. That happened years later. They kept me around for a plaything until Jeremiah rescued me.”

  “You bitch!” Daniel spat, his voice rumbling with anger, low and unsteady as he flung his verbal barbs. “If you’re going to throw me under the bus, the least you can do is tell the fucking truth. The only reason I fed from you was because Jasmine starved me for the better part of a week. And us being naked? I was kept that way deliberately. I never touched the bitch. I never touched you after that first night, either, as you well fucking know, and I didn’t have a damn thing to do with your imprisonment.”

  Octavia laughed, walking over to him and running her finger down his cheek. “But how does Ophelia know if that’s true? Besides, you didn’t help me escape, either, did you? No. You sat in your corner like a pathetic puppy, and pretended nothing was happening.”

  Octavia laughed and looked at her daughter. “I thought more of you, Olphie. I thought you might have at least come looking for me once you were old enough, but you didn’t. You made friends with all manner of creatures, human and shape-shifter alike, yet you forgot about your dear old mom.” She narrowed her eyes. “It took the dhampir, Jeremiah, for you to care at all.”

  Ophelia glared at her, anger trampling down the flicker of fear that tried to rear its ugly head at her situation. “Well, I guess we’re going to fix that tonight, aren’t we?”

  Ophelia placed her hands on her hips, one close to the gun in her waistband. Her heart hammered a painful tattoo at her temples. She’d talk with Daniel later, but right now, other things were more important. Though, when she slid him a look signaling she was ready, she couldn’t hide the venom in her eyes—he’d fed on her mother. Whether the bitch was evil or not was one of the many irrelevant things of late, circumstances be damned. But you let him bite you, too. Ophelia ruthlessly squashed the thought. She wanted to be angry, needed the anger to keep her sympathy at bay. How else am I to destroy the woman that gave me life?

  The look in Daniel’s eyes was apologetic, but Ophelia refused to let him see how affected she was. Her love would remain under lock and key until she knew everything. The only thing that mattered right then was getting out of there alive. And then her mother had to go and open her big evil mouth again.

  Octavia spoke over her shoulder to Fergus and Jericho. “Do what you want with the vampire, but leave my daughter to me.”

  Ophelia’s blood was a dull roar in her ears. So, her love for Daniel was to show after all. “Fuck that,” she muttered, pulling out her gun and pointing it at Octavia’s head, “Think again, Mom.”

  Fergus backed up, but Jericho rushed toward her. Her gun lowered a fraction as Daniel sprang into action. He slammed into Jericho with all the rage of a bull charging a matador’s red cape. During the distraction, Octavia shot out her arm and knocked the gun from Ophelia’s hand.

  She smiled at her daughter, fangs gleaming in the overhead light. “Nice try, Olphie. Did you think I’d make it that easy?”

  Ophelia backed toward the wall, reaching with her left hand for the knife in her back pocket. “No, but I was hoping.”

  Her fingers wrapped around the handle, flipping the blade open as she pulled it out, keeping her hand partially hidden in the folds of her shirt. Her back hit the wall, and Ophelia made her shoulders slump, allowing her body to shake in a false show of fear—her terror had been overridden by anger, and her fury was legion. She let that false fear fill her eyes to mask the adrenaline pumping through her veins.

  The woman she’d once loved and longed to have back in her life walked toward her slowly, oblivious to the fighting behind them. Daniel had Jericho in a headlock and Unknown had Fergus huddled in a corner surrounded by blood—it seemed he really had winked at her and was somehow on their side. She didn’t question it, knowing she and Daniel needed all the help they could get. Seeing her vampire fight for her turned some of her pretense into real fear. Jericho was a terror, and he fought as if he had nothing to lose. Ophelia took a deep breath, trying to steady her nerves, praying for any other option.

  But faith was not on her side.

  Ophelia tried to gather her magick, but she couldn’t. She had a mental block the size of Texas preventing her from using it against her mother. All the anger in the world couldn’t get past the love she’d felt, even after Octavia had walked out on her and her father.

  “For fuck’s sake!” she swore aloud.

  Octavia chuckled. “What is it, sweetie? You don’t want to lose against your mommy? I promise, this will only hurt for a moment, and then you, too, will be free. You’ll embrace this life as I have, and nothing will be able to stop us.”

  Ophelia stared at her, the meaning of Octavia’s words sinking in. “Oh, hell no!” Ophelia snapped. “I’ll be damned if I’ll let you turn me into a blood-sucking demon!”

  Octavia laughed—until Ophelia pushed off from the wall, running hell-bent with the knife raised in front of her. The silver wouldn’t kill her mother unless she hit the heart, but it would hurt like a son of a bitch.

  Octavia flung out her hand, and Ophelia spun to the right, bringing the knife down across her mother’s arm. Blood geysered from the wound, Octavia’s wrist was cut halfway through to the bone. Her mother screamed. Ophelia adjusted her grip and spun again, coming up behind the vampire.

  She wrapped her arm around Octavia’s neck, pressing the blade into her skin, and pulling the other woman into a crouching position on the ground. A terrible thought occurred to Ophelia. Her father’s hunting accident a few years after Octavia left...No. She leaned in close to her mother’s ear. “Did you kill my father?” She ground the question out between clenched teeth. Please don’t let it be true.

  Ophelia’s hand shook so violently that she nicked Octavia’s skin, causing the vampire to hiss. “So what if I did? He was as useless as tits on a boar. I did you a favor!”

  Tears gathered in Ophelia’s eyes, her power suddenly filling the room in a brilliant white light. She let go of Octavia, and carefully stepped around to face her, pressing the knife to the vampire’s forehead. Octavia’s eyes were wide with shock.

  Ophelia looked around the room; Jericho was nothing more than mincemeat and dust on the back wall, and Squeaky Nuts Fergus was missing his namesake as well as his head. Her vampire and Unknown stood in the middle of the room. Daniel had his phone out, the flash of his camera going off at random intervals, but Unknown stared at Ophelia as if she’d just sprouted horns.

  She didn’t care. Her heartbeat slowed, her mind calmed, and she whispered, looking directly at Daniel as he slipped his ph
one into his pocket and met her gaze, “If you want to leave here alive, I suggest you walk out, right now, and close the door securely behind you.”

  Her voice was electrifying, and the light sparked like a live wire. There was no need for Ophelia to repeat her suggestion.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Ophelia turned her attention back to Octavia, her gaze raking, uncaring, over the deceptively meek woman. The vampire sat on the floor, quivering, with her arms wrapped around her knees. One hand held the gash on her arm closed.

  Ophelia looked down at her, twitching the knife against her skin. “It’s not fun to get played at your own game, is it?”

  Tears trickled from Octavia’s eyes. “I just wanted to make your life better, Olphie. I wanted to give you power.”

  Ophelia looked around, a wry smile on her face. She gestured with her free hand, “What? Did you think this light came out of nowhere? I have power, Octavia. More than you could ever dream, and it’s with that power that I will end you.”

  Octavia jerked to her feet, the knife slicing into her forehead as she did so. “Please don’t!” she cried, scrambling backward.

  Ophelia stalked her around the room, making sure to stay between Octavia and the door. “What’s the real reason Jeremiah wants Daniel? What makes him so special? I know it’s not just about Ryker.”

  Ophelia walked Octavia backwards toward the corner opposite Jericho’s blood and dust. Octavia sneered at her. “What’s it matter to you? You obviously don’t like us. Why are you so invested in his life?”

  Ophelia threw out her hand, and the force of her power slammed the vampire into the wall, pinning her there. Octavia couldn’t move, and true fear flared to life in her eyes.

  “I asked you a question,” Ophelia said through gritted teeth, “I suggest you answer me.” She used her power for emphasis, dragging Octavia up the wall, stretching her arms as if the vampire were on a rack.

  Octavia’s left arm popped out of the socket.