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

by Alizabeth Lynn

Ophelia snatched her arm from his grasp with a laugh as Melina dragged Liam back across the room. “Yes, they are. Now, as I was saying before the dragon had a moment: we need to meet Jeremiah at midnight.” She looked between Craven and Daniel. “Which means we need to get going. That’s at least a two-hour drive, and we need to set our trap.” She focused on everyone else. “I have a meeting with Carissa when we get back. If she’s on board, we may need to move this party to her place. I’ll make sure it’s warded well, and we’ll be much safer there than split between two houses here.”

  Craven sat back in the chair across from Ophelia. “Are you sure your friend will be okay with six more people at her place? That’s a lot of beds.”

  Ophelia laughed. “The Crimson Bayou estate has ten bedrooms, and right now the only ones living in the house are Carissa and Aden. I’m pretty sure she wouldn’t mind the company. She’s been confined to that place since her father kidnapped her a few months ago.”

  “Kidnapped her?” Melina asked, shocked. “Why the hell did she stay? If that were me, that’s the last place I’d want to spend my time.”

  Ophelia smiled. “I asked her the same thing. First, she stayed because of her sister, and because the best place to learn about being a werewolf is where the pack gathers. Now she stays because Aden is Pack Master, and the estate rightfully belongs to him and his mate.”

  “Still,” Melina said, “I don’t think I could handle living in a place where I’d been held against my will.”

  “Me, either.” Ophelia shrugged, “Carissa’s tough, though. If anyone can handle it, she can.” She paused and grinned at Serena. “Just don’t go randomly shrinking and flying around, and we should be fine.”

  Serena laughed. “I shall try my best.”

  Ophelia gained her feet, and motioned for Daniel and Craven to stand. “I’m ready when y’all are.”

  They arrived in Shreveport with an hour to spare. While the men grabbed their knives, Ophelia laid a trap around the side of the building that would hold Jeremiah in one spot for interrogation, while also keeping him hidden from the main road, and any chance of a stranger seeing her plan go down. She turned as the men came up behind her.

  “This should hold him. Daniel, you stand over here, within arm’s reach of where I’ll be, and Craven you need to be behind him. Pretend to be holding his wrists or something. Jeremiah won’t believe any of this at all if he thinks nobody’s covering Daniel, even if he is in restraints. Vampiric strength is no match for your everyday, average length of rope, and Jeremiah knows it.”

  Daniel nodded, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to her lips. “He’ll be here any minute. Be careful.”

  “Always.”

  Ophelia walked around to the opposite side of the building, close to an empty parking lot. She kept herself just outside a lone pool of light, eyes scanning the deserted streets. Headlights flashed in the darkness, the roar of the engine an assault on the silence. The car pulled into the lot, stopping feet from where she stood. The engine quieted, and the vampire alighted from the driver’s seat.

  Jeremiah stalked toward Ophelia, eyes flashing red in the darkness. "Don't even think about running,” he said, grabbing her arm, “If you think I don't know what's going on, try again."

  Ophelia wrenched her arm from his grip, pulling her knife from the sheath with a muted hiss of metal on leather. "Do you want Daniel or not?"

  Fangs glinted in the moonlight. "I'm going to enjoy draining you when this is over."

  "Yeah, well, until that day, you think we can get on with the damn plan? Or do you want Daniel to get away? Craven’s holding him, but I don’t know how long that’ll last."

  "Lead the way, bitch."

  Ophelia flipped her knife, aligning the blade with the underside of her arm and pressed her back to the wall, edging toward the corner. Her steps quiet, she carefully looked around to the other side. Empty as planned. Jerking her head in the direction they needed to go, she motioned for Jeremiah to follow her. Heart pounding, she repeated her actions around the next corner. Just a few more steps.

  Ophelia took a deep breath, and nodded to Jeremiah. This was the only chance they would have, or he'd get away, and God only knew where he'd disappear to. Daniel's back was to her, waiting, with Craven holding onto his wrists. She swallowed and took the final steps, raising the knife as she moved...

  In unison, she and the men spun around, Daniel and Craven pulling wicked blades from the comfort of their sheaths as they turned. Jeremiah gasped as he stepped into the spell-cast area. He jerked to a seething stop, the blade of the sorceress against his throat.

  "You were right not to trust me, you bastard. You used the wrong leverage, Jeremiah, and now we've got you. You overstepped when you messed with my family."

  The vampire raised his hands and tried to step back, but he couldn't. "You bitch! What the hell did you do?"

  "Just a little spell. Something minor, really, but I don’t think you’ll be going anywhere until we want you to." A slight flick of her wrist drew a thin bead of blood from his throat. "Now, where is Gwen, and where are you holding my aunt?"

  Jeremiah's eyes danced in the moonlight. He touched a finger to the blood at his throat, raising the digit to his mouth. He smacked his lips at the taste. "Wouldn't you like to know?"

  A green light flashed, illuminating Jeremiah's face as Ophelia's eyes glowed. Warmth flooded her palm, heating the blade she held to his skin. The vampire hissed in pain as the knife dug a little deeper. Ophelia laughed low.

  "Where is Gwen, and where are you holding my aunt?" she repeated. When he was silent, she cranked up the power, the air swirling and crackling around them.

  "I'd tell her if I were you," Daniel piped up. "I've seen what she can do."

  Jeremiah let loose with a hissing laugh of his own. "She doesn't have the juice."

  Daniel stepped closer, pulling his phone from his pocket. Opening the gallery, he flashed the vampire a picture of the Haughton carnage. Jeremiah’s eyes went wide. "That’s a lot of blood…"

  Ophelia twitched the knife, drawing more blood as the skin around the wound burned. "Why do you think I said you had the wrong leverage? Oh, it worked for a while, making me think my mommy was just a prisoner, but when I found out otherwise..." She let the sentence hang, watching the fear fill Jeremiah's eyes. Now he knew how she’d killed Octavia.

  "You couldn't. There's no way you have that kind of power."

  Ophelia held out her other hand, palm up. A glowing ball of fire flared to life, crackling and spinning an inch from her skin. With a flick of her wrist, the ball flew to the ground fifteen feet away, exploding with a crack like gunfire.

  "Try again."

  The vampire began to shake. "How?"

  "That's for me to know." She shrugged. "Or you can find out the hard way. Your choice."

  Jeremiah hissed again as the blade slid deeper. "What do you want to know?"

  Ophelia smiled at Daniel and nodded. He reached out, his reflexes quick, and grabbed Jeremiah's left hand. His blade came down, and the vampire screamed. His pinky finger, with its golden Vampire Council ring still below the knuckle, fell to the bloody grass. Daniel stepped back as Craven bent down to retrieve the digit, and Ophelia raised her eyes to Jeremiah's.

  "Don't even think about lying, or you'll lose more than your finger. Our knives are pretty sharp."

  Tears leaked from the vampire's eyes. "Shreveport. They're here in Shreveport."

  Ophelia's hand shook, and Daniel raised his knife again. "Where in Shreveport, Jeremiah?"

  "I don't—" His words cut off with another scream as Daniel took his middle finger with his knife. Craven retrieved that one as well. "Forest View Cemetery. Lot B, the mausoleum. That's it, I swear."

  Ophelia removed her blade from his throat, plunging it hilt-deep into the meat of his right shoulder, making him cry out again, his legs giving out, pulling both of them to the ground. "Not quite," she hissed at him, "are they alive?"

  Jeremiah smiled thro
ugh his pain. "Define 'alive.' We need the bitch's whelp. Once she has the little bastard...well, let's just say her own mother wouldn't recognize her."

  Daniel and Craven crouched beside them. Craven took his father’s shirt collar in his hand. “You may be my blood, but I will never be like you.” He released the fabric in disgust. “There’s more I’d like to say, but you’re not worth it.”

  Craven stood and walked a few feet away. Daniel remained at Ophelia’s side, his fist balled. he slanted his eyes in her direction. "Are we done with him?"

  She pulled her knife from his shoulder, wiping the blood on the grass at her feet. "For now. Let's get him tied up. We can ask more questions when we’ve got him secured back in Jaune."

  Jeremiah gained his feet with a dark chuckle, looking up at the suddenly cloud-covered sky. "I'd run if I were you." A purple bolt of light struck less than a foot from them, the blast from its magickal aura throwing Ophelia and Daniel against the wall. The brick cracked under the force.

  “Fuck,” Daniel muttered with a groan, “good aim.”

  "No," Ophelia groaned, "Myrick missed." She jumped to her feet, pulling Daniel to his. "We need to leave. Now."

  And they ran, grabbing Craven’s arm, and dragging him with them. Jeremiah's laughter echoed off the brick building, taunting them as they fled. They didn't slow down until they were in Ophelia's truck, Daniel at the wheel, and four miles down the road.

  "What was that, Phia?"

  "That was something we don't want to mess with, yet." Craven said from the backseat.

  "Myrick."

  "Yes.” Ophelia agreed. “With more preparation, Craven and I could possibly best him together, but I don’t think we could defeat him individually." She twisted in her seat, bringing a knee onto the cushion. "How fast can you get us to the cemetery?"

  He shook his head. "Give it an hour for Jeremiah and Myrick to move on, then we’ll go. It’s right up the road, but I really don’t want to go in with a target so fresh on our backs." He raised an eyebrow. "You do realize this is a trap, right?"

  She leaned her head against the glass of her window. "Yeah, but if there's a chance we can get them out, we have to take it."

  He nodded. "You're right, but I don't think we'll be bringing both of them home."

  "I don't either." Ophelia sighed. "He said Gwen was alive, but he didn't say anything about Aunt Jan."

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Gwen cursed under her breath. Her plans had been destroyed a few nights over – by guards, and visitors to her room – and now she was down to the wire. She had to make her move tonight, or not at all, for Garrett had informed her that the sorcerer would come tomorrow...on Independence Day. What a crock. If I don’t get out, now, there will be no more freedom. Ever. William was meeting her just after midnight at a clearing in the woods that she could just barely see through her window. He told her he’d already contacted the Monroe Valley Pack Master, and they would be welcomed with open arms—just as long as they could get away. The pack master had offered to spring them himself, but Gwen had William tell him no. She didn’t need his blood on her conscience, too.

  She spent the day tearing her sheets into strips, hiding the knotted bundles beneath her bed every time Garrett came to see her. Although, the last time, she’d almost gotten caught. Garrett rushed through the door as she was still kneeling on the floor.

  “Is everything okay?” he asked, taking quick strides to her side to help her up so she could sit on the bed.

  Gwen nodded. “Yes, sorry. I was feeling a little dizzy, so I kind of just dropped where I stood. I feel better now, though.”

  Garrett patted her on the knee like he always did. “Good. Myrick will be here tomorrow, and we need you as fit and healthy as possible. I’ll have Dr. Jeffries come take a look at you in a moment to make certain you’re alright.”

  Gwen nodded. “If you think it's necessary, I guess, go ahead.”

  “Are you sure you're feeling okay? Really?”

  “I am, now. Give me a few more minutes to get a good breath, and I'll feel even better. “

  “Good. We do need your health to be in the best possible shape.”

  Gwen didn’t respond. She focused on taking deep breaths. Garrett thought she was feeling ill, but in truth, she was fighting the urge to stab him with the fork that still sat on the desk from her lunch. She could see it—how the blood would spurt from the wound in his neck, arcing across the room to dot the ugly pink wallpaper—but she refrained. It wouldn’t do to overtax herself before what she had planned that night. She needed all of her strength…and to preferably not be detained because she’d killed the Crimson Bayou Pack Master.

  And he was completely oblivious.

  Garrett walked to the wardrobe across from her bed and sifted through the clothing inside. He turned to her with a dress that was clearly inappropriate unless you were a stripper, and even then, it would be pushing things. The so-called “dress” would barely cover her breasts, and more than just her thighs would be visible. Garrett laid it on the back of the chair.

  “You’ll wear this for Myrick. He likes his assistant to do a thorough inspection.”

  Gwen jerked, her hand reaching for the fork before she could think, but she stopped her progress just in time. Bile rose in her throat as she touched the nearly sheer green fabric of the dress. She couldn’t hide the disgust in her eyes as she turned her gaze back to Garrett.

  “How thorough of an inspection, Father?” she asked quietly.

  Garrett raised an eyebrow. “Surely you can determine that for yourself? Jeremiah is a very hands-on sort of man.”

  Gwen shot to her feet, taking a few steps forward as she shook her head. “I agreed to the sacrifice, and even to giving you my child for the sake of the pack. I did not agree to be humiliated before that happens.”

  Sparks flew from Garrett’s eyes as he moved forward, walking her backward until the backs of her knees hit the edge of the bed. Gwen sat down hard as he leaned over her, his skin splotched with angry red patches, a tick throbbing at the corner of his right eye.

  “You will do this, without a fight. I’ll not give up my life over your misplaced sense of embarrassment.”

  “But you expect me to give up my life, and my dignity,” she said softly, “for your cause. I told you I would adhere to the first request, but I’ll kill myself and my child before I’ll go along with the second. You have my word on that.” Gwen shrugged. “I die either way, so it really makes no difference to me.”

  Seething, Garrett wrapped one meaty hand around her throat, squeezing just enough to make her eyes water before loosening his grip. “I could kill you now and be done with it.”

  Gwen reached up, a strange sense of calm invading her mind. She pushed his hand away. “But you won’t. You need me to keep you alive, to keep your pack alive. You can’t kill me unless your sorcerer tells you to.”

  Garrett glared down at her, his angry eyes so different than the ones she’d thought she knew. “You’re right.” He stood up straight and crossed the room to the door, turning with his hand on the knob. “You’re wearing the dress, but I’ll see that Jeremiah doesn’t touch you. And Gwenny?” His teeth flashed when her eyes met his. “When the time comes, I’m going to enjoy killing you.”

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Daniel eased the truck through the back gates of the run-down cemetery. No one spoke as he cut the headlights and crept along the narrow lanes guided only by the moonlight. Gnarled oak trees leaned across gravestones, their roots pushing up and out of the ground, resembling long fingers that quested for a skeletal hand to hold. Shadows danced beneath the limbs, creating a ghostly symphony of light and dark. Ophelia shuddered.

  There was no noise outside the truck—no vehicles on the roads nearby, no animals frolicking in the night. Only the wind and the sound of rustling leaves. She sat back as Daniel brought the truck to a stop. The mausoleum loomed over the cab, the stark white marble a stunning contrast to the crumbling stone a
round it. They each climbed out as Daniel cut the engine.

  Ophelia crept closer to the towering structure. She shook her head when the guys joined her. “The lock’s busted,” she whispered, “and there’s dried blood on the frame. I don’t think we’ll find good news inside.”

  Daniel wrapped an arm around her shoulder, squeezing briefly. “It may not be hers,” he whispered back, “Stay behind me, and keep your brother close. I still think this is a trap.”

  They each palmed their knives, and Daniel swung the door open. Silence. Pristine coffins lined the walls, each with its own shiny placard. Each of the walls housed elaborate stained glass windows. Moonlight filtered through the glass, lighting the marbled interior in shades of red, blue, and green. In the center of the room, however, was something much older than the structure around them.

  Worn stone steps spiraled downward, sconces spaced against the walls of the staircase to hold old-fashioned torches. None were lit. Ophelia met Daniel’s gaze.

  “There’s no one here.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  “I trust my gut, Daniel, and I know we’re too late.”

  “Maybe they have them sedated.”

  “Maybe. I’m still going down, but I don’t think we’re going to find Gwen or Aunt Janice.”

  Craven stepped forward, placing a hand on her arm. “Daniel and I can go down instead, if you’d rather.”

  Ophelia smiled at her brother. “I would, but no. If anyone is dead down there, I have to see for myself. Janice was my mother in every way that counted. I won’t turn my back on her now. Nor will I turn my back on the sister of my best friend.”

  Craven moved behind her again. “Then let’s go.”

  With Daniel leading the way, they moved closer to the stairs. He paused and shook his head. “I see no other way,” he mumbled, turning back to Ophelia. “If your gut is right, this won’t be an issue. Do you mind lighting the torches on the wall?”

  Ophelia nodded, and narrowed her eyes as she dug down and pulled out a tiny spurt of power. With a flick of her wrist, green flames sprung to life along the wall, lighting their way into the abyss. She and Craven followed Daniel down to find nothing but an empty room with a large stone altar on one side—an altar with chains attached at both ends, and covered in blood. Ophelia slumped down to sit on the bottom stair.