Bayou Loup[ Rougaroux social Club 3] by Lynn Lorenz

Author:Lynn Lorenz [Lorenz, Lynn]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Amazon: B00AT392AM
Publisher: Loose Id LLC
Published: 2012-12-23T11:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fourteen

Mark slowed his car down as he approached the edge of St. Jerome, where the speed limit dropped to a leisurely thirty-five. The town looked like dozens of other South Louisiana towns—a main street with shops leading to the center of town, angled parking, and a square held down on one side by the mandatory Catholic church and on the other by the city hall.

The town had dressed up for the festival, and it only stirred memories of the festival where he and Bobby had danced until their boots wore blisters on their feet. A deep longing came over him, and he slowed as he came to a red light, gazing around, searching for…what? Bobby? What were the chances?

He’d recognized the accent in the big man’s voice, and figured he’d come from some place like this one: small, close-minded, a place where a gay man would have to hide what and who he was. Why else had Bobby gone to Lake Charles to look for a hookup?

A huge banner spanned the street, proclaiming the Rugarou Festival and the dates of the up-coming weekend. In one corner was a cartoonish image of a wolf’s face, jaws agape, teeth bared, saliva dripping from a lolling tongue.

Mark knew his theory was right. This town was the center of all the wolf activity, and they even celebrated the damn rugarou with a festival and a costume contest. Mark knew all about the legend of the rugarou, how the story had come over from France as the loup garou and changed over time. He’d studied every article he could find about the half man, half wolf that roamed the swamp, killing anyone or anything that crossed its path.

Like his father. A cold shiver ran up his spine. The light changed. Mark drove on, leaving the festival grounds behind him. After a while, the buildings thinned to little more than a few houses as he reached the other side of the town. Driving farther would put him deeper into bayou country and to the spot where he and his father had camped so long ago.

Up ahead, he spotted a gas station and pulled in. Might as well pick up the last few items on his list and fill his cooler with ice. He parked, got out, and then sauntered up to the store.

The bell tinkled as he opened the old green-paint-flecked screen door and stepped across the threshold and back in time. The one-room store was dark and cool, perfect for the heat and humidity of the swamp, even in October. It smelled of age, layers of scents piled on with an underlying hint of mildew. Four aisles extended into the depths of the store, but it looked as if they carried just about everything anyone needed.

“How ya makin’, cap?” The young clerk greeted him.

Mark grinned. “Just fine. I need some bags of ice. I saw the freezer out front.” “Just pay for it with your other stuff, and you can take what you need when you

leave.

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