Swim Deeper (Keepers of the Swamp Book 1) by T. S. Joyce

Author:T. S. Joyce [Joyce, T. S.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Wicked Willow Press
Published: 2019-07-07T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter Nine

“Now the biggest myth in Caddo Lake is that it is Texas’s only natural lake,” Holt said, turning the boat slowly in the murky water. “It’s not the only one, and at this point in its lifespan, it’s not even considered a natural lake. The twenty-four-thousand acre swamp actually had—”

“Can we go back to the myth part?” Darren, the girls’ dad asked from his comfy spot under the canopy of the boat. His arms were draped over the back of the boat, one ankle crossed over his knee, brand new Crocodile Dundee-style hat pulled low over his eyes. “At the hotel, when the concierge told us this is a must-visit spot and the best swamp tour in these parts, I asked him why, what made your tour so special. And he said to ask you about the Lachlan Legend.”

Bre had relaxed over the last hour, getting lost in the way Holt spoke, how he formed words with the slight bayou accent he had that came out more when he told stories of growing up around Caddo Lake. But Darren’s question made her sit up straight.

She witnessed the exact moment Holt’s eyes flashed a little brighter before he dragged his attention back to the muddy water. He was propped up by the wheel, one hand on it as he expertly guided the boat down the winding maze of small water paths, but he faced the tourists, only looking behind him at where the boat was going every thirty seconds or so, like he knew this swamp better than the back of his hand.

He had a loop of rope at his hip, which he undid from its leather tie, unfurled it in a smooth motion, and slapped it on the water like a whip. Slap, slap, slap. “The Lachlan Legend is something the townsfolk made up to make this swamp a little more interesting to tourists.”

“Of course, you would say that. Your last name is Lachlan, right?” Darren said with a grin, pointing to an old weathered sign on the side of the bench seat that read Lachlan Swamp Tours. “Nobody wants a legend about them.”

“I would,” Mariah said, lifting her gaze from her cellphone and raising her hand.

Slap. Slap. Holt was staring at the water with narrowed eyes, and after the third slap, he pulled a white chicken egg from a carton on the bench seat next to him, and held it in the air. “Legend has it,” Holt said in a gruff voice, his eyes still on the murky water, “that witches used to live in these swamps. And the townspeople say there was one who was more powerful than all. Raina Lachlan. They say she practiced dark magic deep in the bayous of Louisiana, and then she brought it here. Tainted Caddo lake and all the waterways. They say she controlled the animals in these parts. In particular”—he ghosted Bre a glance—“the alligators. The big ones. They say anyone who dared to go that deep into her part of the swamp and bother her would disappear and never be heard from again.

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