by Keri Hudson
Just as planned.
But on the way out of the bar, a man’s newspaper was opened to a page with the headline reading, Gruesome Murder in Houma: “Torn to shreds,” Auth. Say.
Marcus pretended not to notice as he led Sabrina out of the bar.
“Hold on,” the bartender said just before they made it out. Marcus and Sabrina turned again to face him and the rest, having no choice.
“Maybe Big Jim ain’t around, but… who knows?” The bartender glanced at a few of the others. “Maybe we can find a nice li’l pet fer y’all to… to pet.”
Marcus and Sabrina shared a glance. “Well, we need a certain… a certain type, right? And Big Jim, he… he knows what we like.”
The bartender just shrugged. “Why not just tell us what yer type is? We’ll see t’it.”
Marcus had to think fast, but he remained calm and casual and hoped Sabrina would do the same.
“Now, friend, it just ain’t that easy. There’s matters of discretion, as I’m sure you can understand. Big Jim’s my guy, what can I say?”
“He’s our man,” Sabrina repeated in a sassy, slutty voice, winking at the bartender and snapping her gum.
“How’d we find you, if’n we was so inclined?”
Marcus glanced at Sabrina. “We ain’t far,” he said in a deliberately chipper tone, “we’ll pop on back.”
“Why don’t you tell us where you’re stayin’, and we’ll send word soon’s we know?”
Marcus knew he had to confront the bartender before they all turned on him and Sabrina and he had to slaughter the lot of them.
“Private residence,” Marcus answered, “can’t say.”
“Can’t say,” Sabrina repeated, sassy as before.
The bartender and the other locals glanced at one another, but the bartender didn’t seem convinced.
Marcus asked, “There ain’t a problem, is there?”
Sabrina snapped her gum and repeated, “Problem?”
The bartender glanced at the other patrons, then said, “No, we’ll… we’ll keep an eye out fer this Big Jim feller if’n he ever comes in. Who came callin’, do we say?”
Marcus gave it some thought, a little smile cracking on his face. “He’ll know.” After a prolonged silence, Marcus turned to lead Sabrina out of the bar.
Once outside, Sabrina asked, “So, what was that all about?”
“We planted the bait, one of them’ll bite.”
“No, not that. You looked at that newspaper on the way out, but I didn't have time to see what it said.” Marcus gave it some thought, once again impressed by the girl’s quick wits and keen senses. “What? What did it say?”
“Get in the car. We’ll hit the nearest newspaper stand, find out together.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
They bought a copy of the Houma Times and went back to Sabrina’s apartment, a quiet respite from the encroaching chaos closing in around them. They traded the paper back and forth, rereading the article for any trace of a good clue as to what was really going on.
Sabrina popped a bottle of white wine to calm them down, cold and brisk and bracing.
They curled up on the couch, Sabrina cozy and succulent in his arms. Having her so close to him was still a new and fascinating experience. She held so much promise for him, and so much peril. But the vaguely fruity smell of her shampoo, the softness of her skin—it was both provocative and pleasurable.
“Parts of her body were strewn all over the roadside? What the hell, Marcus?”
Marcus took a deeper look into Sabrina’s eyes. He was there with her, welcome in her home, in her arms and in her legs. She couldn’t really think what I think she does.
“You don’t think I had anything to do with it?”
Sabrina shrugged, one shoulder rising up to her dainty ear. “Well, no, of course not. I mean… I dunno. I don’t want to think so, obviously.”
“You really think that of me?”
“Well… I don't know what to think, tell you the truth. Have you ever been chased around like this, hounded?”
“Yes, I have,” Marcus said, “of course I have. I’ve been chased by men with shotguns, reporters with cameras and ambition, the lupes and the gators.”
Sabrina seemed to think about it, nodding. “No, that’s… you're right, Marcus, of course.”
“And I’ve been with you for the last thirty-six hours.”
Sabrina stopped, then broke out in a relieved chuckle. “Oh my God, that’s right! You couldn’t possibly have done it! I… I just… I gotta tell ya, I… whew!”
But Marcus knew that this was a problem that he’d never escape. He’d always be thought of as a monster, a brutal beast, a murderer. Marcus saw himself as a protector, and that was what he knew himself to be.
I could have been a monster if I’d wanted to, Marcus knew but didn't dare say. I could do a lot of things if I wanted to.
But I don’t. I don't want to be a monster or a murderer. I want to be normal, just like everybody else. But I’m not and I never will be. This is why I don’t open my heart, this is why I don’t torture myself with a teasing desire for things I can never have.
A thoughtful moment passed before Sabrina asked, “Well, um, if you didn’t do it…?”
“The lupine shifters,” Marcus said, gazing out the window. “They’ve sensed my absence from the bayou, they sense an opportunity to make their move.” Marcus sighed, rubbing the back of his neck to soothe his tension. “I told you, I’ve got a duty in the swamps to keep them at bay.”
“At bay… forever?”
Marcus could only shrug it off. “They’re aggressive here, one pack in particular. But they’re not the first. There’s something… something in the land, in the history, like… like ghosts of the swamp—traveling through the mist, sleeping in the Spanish moss.”
Sabrina waited before clearing her throat. “The lupine… um, shifters… they’re naturally more aggressive?”
Marcus nodded. “We ursine shifters are fewer, but more powerful.”
“You’re like… the protectors?”
Marcus broke an awkward smile. “Nature has a balance, and we’re as much a part of that balance as any other natural being.”
Sabrina seemed to give it some thought, twitching as she returned her attention to the business at hand. “So, their big move… is against the local humans?”
Marcus searched for an easy answer. “Against the entire human race, eventually. The lupines feel the humans have usurped them as rulers of the Earth; maybe they have, who knows? But they’re bitter as hell about it.” Giving it a bit more thought, Marcus edited the gruesome truth to protect Sabrina’s greater sensitivities. “One pack won’t do much on a national scale, they know that. The lupines know what they’re up against. As a community, they’re happy to stay in the shadows. It’s the rebels we all have to worry about; they’re the ones who go off half-cocked, start the bloodshed, start wars.”
“Wars? Like a… a race war?” Sabrina seemed to think about it. “An army of werewolves? Oh sorry, I mean—”
“It’s all right, I know what you mean. Don't worry about it. They can’t do it as long as each community has a force like me, keeping those wily bastards at bay, as I said.”
A deadly silence passed. “Thin the herd.”
“As necessary.”
“But… they’re making this big move… in just three days?”
“More than enough time, it would seem. But… they see an opening, a power vacuum, and they move to fill it.”
A long, terrible silence followed. “What do we do?”
Marcus didn't have to review what he knew for too long. “There’s a rogue pack I’ve been keeping an eye on, leader’s a guy called Corey Figgis. He’ll be the one on the front lines, I’d think. Has a pack about six heavy, maybe more, but they’re strong, newly adult, feeling their oats.”
Sabrina nodded, and Marcus could tell she was looking into an intimate and terrible memory. “Yeah, I know how that is.”
After a sad silence, she went on, “So… they figure if you’re gone, it’s their time to move in.” Marcus nodded. “And that means… I’m responsible for that woman’s death.”
Marcus set a comforting hand on her smooth, supple arm, giving her a reassuring squeeze. “The woman hasn’t been identified yet,” Marcus said. “That is a lupe strike, guaranteed, although…”
“Guaranteed… although?”
“They don’t generally slaughter women like that. Men are their preferred victims, for butchering.”
“But not for other things?”
“And they left no head, no hands or feet, only enough remains to identify her as female.”
“Maybe they’re getting more bold, or more desperate.”
“Maybe.”
Sabrina was clearly rolling all this new information over in her head. “These things, they’re… they’re wolves, lupine. But… how did they wind up out here in the swamps? There are no wolves native to this area. Not anymore anyway.”
Marcus nodded. “They wound up here, same as I did, same as the others before me. Shifters are… adaptable creatures. That’s part of what makes us so successful… and so dangerous.”
“And… can you ever destroy them all?”
“No, of course not,” Marcus said. “Just the rogue pack. The world needs shifters, Sabrina, or we wouldn’t exist. We’re part of the natural balance, just… a part most people don’t know about.”
“I suppose we should keep it that way.”
Marcus couldn’t help but agree. “By the time the population at large finds out and can prove it… it’ll be too late.”
Sabrina nodded as she seemed to think about it. “So, if they’re making their move… what do we do?”
Marcus gave it some thought, rubbing his chin and staring off. “Not sure yet. But we’d better figure it out fast.”
Dipping her head forward with a hopeful grin, Sabrina repeated, “We?”
Marcus nodded, one brow raised. “We.”
After an awkward pause, she said, “Marcus, I… I want to apologize, about what I said. I know you’re a good person, not a monster. I… I don't know why or how I could even have suggested such a thing.”
“No, Sabrina, it’s… it’s only natural. It’s the way it’s always been, and I suppose the way it’ll always be.”
“No, Marcus, no… that’s not the case. I… I’m just not used to all this, shifters and fights and things, kidnappers and murderers. Sorry, but… it’s a lot to take in.”
“Of course it is,” Marcus said. “I completely understand.”
Sabrina shrugged. “I wish I did, but… I’m really gonna try, Marcus.”
He broke a little smile. “Well, let’s hope it doesn’t take too much effort.” They looked deep into each other’s eyes, hand in hand, lips nearing one another.
B-b-bzzzzzzzz!
The door buzzer shattered the moment, and as Marcus and Sabrina glanced at the door and then at each other, Marcus had the distinct notion that whoever was on the other side of that buzzer would shatter more than just the moment.
Perhaps everything.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Sheriff Le Croix made himself comfortable on the couch. “I’m sorry fer just stoppin’ by like this.” Marcus glanced at Sabrina, neither of them saying anything. So the sheriff went on, “I know you had a… a special relationship to the case.”
“I don’t see it as the same case at all,” Marcus said with a casual shrug.
“The woman was torn to pieces,” Sheriff Le Croix said, “just like the injuries to some of the men at the farmhouse, where you… you stepped in to help the lady in need here.”
Sabrina thrust out her chin. “I’ll thank you not to be snide.”
“I’ll thank you not to be vague! Now I’ve got a sudden slew of gruesome killings, with you two at the very center of it all. And all you can tell me is that you’ve no idea.”
“We can account for each other’s whereabouts,” Sabrina said, “so we’ve each got an alibi.”
“How convenient,” Sheriff Le Croix said.
“And factual,” Marcus stated. “So, if there isn’t anything else?”
Sabrina asked, “Sheriff, how do you know it wasn’t gators who killed that woman, tore her apart like that?”
“Gators eat their prey, Miss Parks.”
Marcus said, “Then it sounds like you’ve got a real crime spree on your hands, sheriff.”
Sheriff Le Croix sighed and looked around the little apartment. “Either of you… superstitious?”
Marcus turned his head to hear where the sheriff was going next, already able to guess. “Not me,” Sabrina said.
“Well, lotta folks round’ here, they’re real superstitious. And ‘round here we got one particular superstition… well, lore, really, about a… a sort of monster in the area. Locals call it Le dieu des marais, means the god of the swamps. You ain’t never heard this story?”
“Sounds familiar,” Sabrina said, completely straight-faced.
Marcus said to the sheriff, “You’re not telling us you think some swamp god killed that poor woman?”
“You tell me.” A long, suspicious silence passed before Sheriff Le Croix said, “You may not be superstitious, but I am, Mr. Reilly.” The sheriff looked Marcus straight in the eye, his voice low and cold. “And god or not, I’m gonna find out who tore that man apart. And that person, god or gator or what have you, will face justice.”
After the sheriff left, Sabrina poured them each a cup of tea, soothing for her nerves and pleasant to his taste.
Sabrina asked him, “What do you make of that?”
Marcus shook his head. “Not sure. He knows something about shifters, or he suspects. But it’s not the kind of thing most people just accept, least of all a law man like Le Croix.”
Sabrina shrugged. “Tell you the truth, I wouldn’t have believed it if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes.”
“Because you’re an intelligent person, and not some schoolgirl who needs to be frightened into saying her prayers at night.”
They sat in a knowing silence. “But it’s not just a story to frighten kids with, is it?”
“But those stories, they’re about the lupine shifters too. I’ve only been here about ten years.”
Sabrina seemed to give that some thought. “Stands to reason that there was always a force to balance things out, keep their population down. Before you, there must have been some other god of the swamp. No?”
It made perfect sense, and Marcus was once again astounded by her mind, both open and keen.
“Well, if he believes in that, he’d believe in the lupine shifters too. That’s why I’m the god of the swamp, not the devil.” Sabrina nodded with easy understanding. “The locals call them les loups d’eau, the water wolves.”
“Then how come he didn’t ask us about them?”
“Let’s worry a little less about that sheriff, and a bit more about those lupe bastards. That bar probably had one or two, s’hard to say when I’m not in my ursine form. If the lupines are rising, we have to quash that and fast.”
“Quash that,” Sabrina repeated. “You mean… kill them.”
Marcus nodded. “All six, and their leader.” The room filled with an ominous stillness, Marcus’ tea hot and bracing.
Sabrina asked, “What can seven of those things do… long-term, I mean?”
“Glad you qualified that. The short-term damage is obvious. Long-term, they could… procreate. Which is probably what all those women were being held for.”
Horror took Sabrina’s expression, mouth dropping, eyes wide. “That’s how they procreate, by impregnating human women?”
Marcus nodded. “For generations they’ve been dragging women back to their swamp lairs, but the spawn often died, or were eaten by gators. I’ve had to put a few down myself.”
“Marcus, pups!”
“It’s a matter of the survival of the human race, Sabrina. They overpopulate.”
A knowing silence passed before Sabrina asked, “Does this mean the men running that kidnapping ring were shifters themselves?”
Marcus shook his head. “They’d have shifted to fight me. And there aren’t that many of them around. More than four in a pack is unusual too.” Marcus thought it through, a bigger picture becoming clear in his imagination. “But in their human form, they created a network among the locals to keep the women in a more comfortable place. Increase the survival rate of their young.”
“But…” Sabrina said, clearly thinking it out, “there were no kids where I was being held. Would they go all this way to organize a… a shifter birthing station, and then not raise the kids there?”
She made sense, and the puzzle become more and more complex even with her insightful contributions.
“Hard to say how many survive the birthing process,” Marcus said. “But none of the women were pregnant.”
“Well,” Sabrina said, “they could easily have been. I was in one room, mind you, and only for a few hours. But next door, well, there was no missing what was going on.”
“You don’t know by whom? Who was raping her, I mean?”
Sabrina shook her head. “They didn’t get to me, though. Thank God you came when you did.”
“Yeah, I’m… I’m glad of that. And you don’t know which girl?”
“No, Marcus. Why? You’re afraid that if she’s carrying a baby—”
“They’re going to come after her, yes. She’s too valuable just to let get away.”
“And that’s something the cops wouldn’t have taken into account.”
“Not even Le Croix, no matter what he thinks or believes.”
Sabrina shook her head and took another sip of tea. “And the woman who was torn up and left in shreds?”
“One of the five, I’m guessing. They’re hunting down their captives to sniff out the one they knocked up.”
“Sniff out? Wouldn’t they know?”
“Not necessarily. Could be the one you were telling me about.”
