Whiskey Shivers: The Voodoo Bastards MC by A.J. Downey

Author:A.J. Downey [Downey, A.J.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Second Circle Press
Published: 2022-11-22T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Corliss…

It was the sort of terrifying out here that was equal parts exhilarating and deep primordial dread.

The guys kept most of the fear away by talking, telling me different things about the swamp, training the spotlight from the boat out into the dark and pointing out the pinpricks of eye shine from the alligators just above the waterline. Talking about things like how Cypress was a professional alligator hunter when the season came around and how it was easier but more dangerous to hunt alligator at night. So dangerous, it was outlawed in Louisiana. You could only hunt them during the day.

They also talked about what else lurked in the shallow waters we traversed. About different turtles and a fish called Alligator Gar, and how the latter made damn good Gar cakes. Sort of like fish patties mixed with vegetables; formed and fried in oil. It sounded good, actually.

The talk of Gar cakes morphed into talk of food in general and of the legendary cookouts that were put on by the locals whenever a good enough occasion arose. Of course, some of those occasions were purely made up for the hell of it just as an excuse.

It was nice listening to them as the dim lights of the shoreline receded and the only thing that held back the impossible dark ahead of us was the boat’s dim spotlight.

Through it all, the pressing dark and the foreign hoots and calls emanating threateningly from that dark, I felt totally and perfectly safe. Safe in the circle of Hex’s arms, as though he was my personal protection spell from, well, everything out there – be it nature or city life.

I perked up when we turned an invisible corner sometime later and there was a light up ahead, shining back at us from the deep swamp night.

A rectangle of light appeared as we approached what appeared to be a small house on a barge, and a woman’s delicate frame was backlit by the light within it.

La Croix let out a whistle and a whistle came in return from the barge. As we drew nearer, Alina’s smiling face greeted us.

“Hello!” she called out.

“Hi!” I called back and La Croix smoothly arced us out and around, and slid us right along upside the barge, stopping on a dime, with practiced ease, at the ladder over the side.

It was only two steps up onto the barge, and I made it well enough, if a little awkwardly with one arm strapped to my side.

Hex got up with me and caught the bags that La Croix tossed up. Alina took one, I took another, and Hex turned with the third over his shoulder as La Croix hoisted himself up and tied off the small boat.

“Welcome home,” Alina said, passing us up to kiss La Croix as he stood firm on the barge’s edge.

“Go on, now,” he ordered deeply and she followed me and Hex into the house.

“You’ll be back here in the guest room,” Alina said, leading us back to a door just past the small kitchen in a nook of a hallway on the right.

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