Blood on the Bayou by Jay Stacey

Author:Jay, Stacey [Jay, Stacey]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Fiction, Fantasy
ISBN: 1439189870
Google: m86-vs0mchYC
Amazon: B005GG0M92
Publisher: Pocket Star
Published: 2012-03-27T05:00:00+00:00

Hitch and I get in the truck and drive. He pulls himself together quickly, but doesn’t say a word during the drive to the south gate.

I wait as patiently as possible, stealing glances at the passenger’s seat as he slides on the iron mesh overshirt of his suit, then unbuckles his seat belt to step into the pants. He zips the top and bottom of the suit together before moving on to the mesh footies and gloves. By the time we reach the gate, he’s suited up, save for the hood piece with the breathable iron face mask, which he leaves in his lap.

Deciding he’s suitably protected—he could have the hood on in a few seconds—I hop out and hit the button to raise the gate. As the gears turn and the heavy iron lifts, I scan the world outside. There’s not a fairy in sight. No pink and golden glow under the trees, nothing fluttering above the water on either side of the road or hunting mosquitoes in the shadows.

Hopefully that means Grandpa Slake made it back to the swamp, issued the cease and desist order to his hordes of flesh-hungry minions, and it’s safe for me to take this drive.

If not, at least Hitch is protected. If the fairies roll the truck off the road, he’ll be able to crawl out and walk back to town without fearing a bite. The new suits look more fragile than the bulky iron shell Cane wears when he ventures outside the gate on police business, but iron mesh is about a hundred times stronger than iron plate. The fairies could try gnawing their way through, but they’d be dead of iron poisoning long before they made it to Hitch’s skin.

Trying to take comfort in that and not let myself worry about trusting another person—or monster—that I shouldn’t, I walk back to the truck. Worry won’t accomplish anything, and I’ve got no choice but to trust Gramps. His information is the only thing we have to go on, and we have to find that cave. Our mission is even more urgent than I’d assumed. I believe that, though I’m going to need a lot more explanation before we get where we’re going.

I slide into the truck, shift into drive, and ease through the gate at a creep, searching for the perfect prompt. As if sensing I’ve reached the end of my patience, Hitch speaks.

“Someone broke into our house while I was working late at the office,” he says, in that familiar I-am-an-FBI-agent-in-control-of-my-destiny-and-vocal-tones voice I’ve come to know and hate. But I can’t hate him for it right now. I know it’s something to hide behind so that he doesn’t lose it again.

Watching him cry for his fiancée and unborn baby—even if it was only for a minute or two—changed the way I see him. He said he loves me, and I think he means it, but he also loves her. Being a member of the torn-between-old-and-new-love club, I can sympathize, but I can also resent him for hiding how much he loves her.

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