Rougaroux Social Club: Bayou Dreams by Lynn Lorenz

Author:Lynn Lorenz [Lorenz, Lynn]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: LGBT Shape-shifter Paranormal
Publisher: Loose Id LLC
Published: 2011-02-22T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter Nineteen

They walked for a few minutes as darkness and the creepy sounds of the swamp surrounded them. Every now and then, Scott’s breath would puff across the back of Ted’s neck, and he’d relax. Nice, but odd.

She stopped, and Ted nearly ran her over.

“We’re here,” she announced.

Something big slipped into the water on his left, and Ted shivered.

“Just a gator,” Scott said, as if reassuring him.

“Right. You Cajuns are nuts.”

“Mais oui, cher.” Scott’s mother nodded. “That’s what makes us so powerful.” She winked at Ted, and he couldn’t help but grin. Princess, huh? Voodoo queen, maybe.

She wasn’t painted, and there wasn’t a chicken in sight, or drums pounding, so whatever she had planned wasn’t going to be like in the movies.

A fallen log rested on the ground near the water, and in front of it, a small dirt clearing. He shone the light around it, looking for snakes and gators.

“The gators don’t like the light.” Scott chuckled. “But if you shine it out on the water, you might see their eyes. They reflect the light.”

Ted played the light over the darkness and jumped as half a dozen points of light winked under the beam of his flashlight. “Damn! They’re everywhere? Is this safe?” Right about now he wished he’d brought his gun.

“Oh, they won’t come near us.” Mrs. Dupree had knelt by the log, placed the candle with a picture of the Virgin Mary on it on top, and lit it. A soft glow illuminated a small area around the log.

“Where should I start digging?” Scott asked.

She turned and looked around. “Right about here.” She pointed to a small mound of earth. “Not too deep.”

“Hold the flashlight for me, Ted.” Ted angled it at the ground, and Scott put the blade of the shovel in the dirt and pushed with his foot. It sunk easily into the soft clay. He tossed the first load of earth to the side. And the next.

On the third, he struck pay dirt. “Got it.”

“Good. Dig it up and put it in the sack.” She held the pillowcase open.

Ted stared as Scott brought up the stiff, maggot-covered carcass of a cat on the blade of the shovel, or at least it looked like it was once a cat. Ted nearly puked, and grabbed the tail of his shirt to hold over his nose. It had been a few years since he’d been at a crime scene.

“Merde, Maman, this stinks.” Scott cursed a little more, then dumped it in the sack. She closed it, spun it around to close it off, and then knotted it as if she did this all the time. The smell lessened.

“Now, underneath, find the pouch.”

Ted leaned over to look in the hole. “A pouch?”

“That’s the gris-gris. Scott’s hair and a few things of his.”

“What things?” Scott asked. “And where the hell did you get my hair?”

“Your brush, last time I visited you.”

Scott leaned on the shovel. “You took my hair, what? Six months ago? You’ve been planning this since then?”

“Hell,

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