The Awakening

“Where is your room located?”

She felt a blush creep up her face. “On the second floor, north side.”

“Then I’ll take a north side room.”

Her mouth dropped just a bit and she held there, unable to close it or speak. Finally, she said, “You don’t think I’m in danger, do you?”

“Until I can figure out who or what is doing this and their motive, I don’t want to discount any possibilities. If a man is vandalizing your property, then it’s personal, and that’s something I want to explore with you tomorrow. He may escalate. Hiring me may cause him to escalate more quickly.”

A flood of scenarios that she’d never considered washed through her mind. Locked up in her home with the sexiest man she’d seen in forever or alone with a potential madman or mythical creature on the loose.

She wasn’t sure which was more frightening.

About the Author

JANA DELEON grew up among the bayous and small towns of southwest Louisiana. She’s never actually found a dead body or seen a ghost, but she’s still hoping. Jana started writing in 2001 and focuses on murderous plots set deep in the Louisiana bayous. By day, she writes very boring technical manuals for a software company in Dallas. Visit Jana on her website, www.janadeleon.com.

The Awakening

Jana DeLeon

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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To my friend, Nancy Lea. You’ve been chasing monsters for years now, but I’m certain your happily ever after is coming.

Chapter One

Josette Bettencourt stared at the group of workers gathered in front of her ancestral plantation home and for the first time in a long while, couldn’t think of a single thing to say.

The crew leader, Ray, a Creole man who was probably in his fifties, stepped forward. “We need the work, Ms. Bettencourt, and the normal dangers of the swamp are things we’re comfortable with, but not this.”

She took a deep breath and blew it out. “I want you to explain to me again exactly what you saw.”

Ray nodded. “We were repairing the fence on the north side of the property when we heard howling, but it weren’t no swamp animal that we know. Then we heard something moving in the brush—something big.”

“Did you see it?”

“It came through the brush about thirty yards from where we were working. Looked straight at us, then ducked back in the bushes and disappeared.”

“What did it look like?”

“It was taller than me by at least a foot or two and had long gray hair. It had a face like a monkey and yellow eyes.”

Okay, it didn’t sound any better the second time.

“You’re sure it wasn’t a bear?”

Ray drew himself up straight. “I know bear, ma’am. I feed my family off of this swamp most of the time.” He pointed to the crew. “All of them know bear, too. We all saw the same thing.”

The men nodded and shuffled around, clearly uneasy.

“I don’t know what to say,” she said finally. “I will look into it with Emmett, but I’m begging you not to leave.”

Ray looked at the men most of whom stared at the ground. “I can’t speak for another man,” he said, “but I will keep working for now. How many will stay?”

All of the men slowly raised their hands.

Josie felt almost dizzy with relief. “Thank you. Move your crew to the west side tomorrow and work there until I figure this out. Where’s Emmett?”

Ray shrugged. “We haven’t seen him since he got us started this morning.”

She struggled to hold in her frustration. “If you see anything out of the ordinary tomorrow, come straight to me.”

Ray nodded and started to walk away, then hesitated.

“Is there something else?” Josie asked.

“You grew up in this swamp, ma’am. You know the legends.”

“The legends are stories made up by parents to keep their children from wandering into the swamp,” she replied, stubbornly refusing to buy into age-old scare tactics.

“Perhaps, but what I saw today wasn’t my imagination and it scared me—a grown man. Stories that last so many years often have truth in them. You can choose not to believe, but please take precautions in the swamp.”

Josie softened a little, realizing the man was simply worried about her safety. “Of course. Thank you.”

Ray gave her a single nod and motioned the crew away.

She blew out a breath and strode toward the barn, wondering where her foreman had wandered off to this time. Lately, she spent more time looking for Emmett than she did working with him on the repairs needed at the plantation. He’d always been distant and short on words, but since her father’s death six months before, he’d moved on to physically absent as well as verbally.

There was no sign of Emmett in the barn, and one look at the sky let her know that daylight was running out. She grabbed a flashlight and a shotgun from a gun rack near the barn door and headed out to the location in the swamp where the crew had been working on fencing.

The area the crew had worked in that day was in the denser part of the swamp surrounding the house. Fences already existed at the perimeter of cleared land, but given the many dangerous creatures living in the swamp surrounding the main estate, the bank was requiring her to maintain a second set of fencing deeper in the swamp in order to open the house as a bed-and-breakfast. The new fencing would also keep hikers from wandering into the more dangerous areas, and provide an extra line of defense for her horses, the only luxury she’d held on to after her father’s death.

She pushed through the thick brush on the seldom-used trail until she reached the work area. Cypress trees rose in a thick wall around her and parted at the edge of the brackish water that comprised one of many ponds contained on her property. A stack of posts and barbed wire stood about twenty feet back from the edge of the water, the remains of the previous fence scattered in front of it.

She’d thought animals and the hurricane season had taken down that stretch of fence that her father had installed years ago, but what if she’d been wrong?

The silence of the swamp seemed to echo in her mind. How in the world could something so quiet cause so much unease? She crossed her arms over her chest, unable to remember a time when she’d ever felt at ease in the dense undergrowth. The myths and legends about the swamps of Mystere Parish were as long as the Mississippi River, and although her father had always dismissed them as the ramblings of superstitious swamp people, Josie couldn’t help wondering if Ray was right—if those long-survived tales had some basis in truth.

She scanned the work area one last time and blew out a breath, unsure what she expected to find. There was nothing to see here but another afternoon of unfinished work. Another half day of lag to add to the week they were already behind.

As she turned to leave, a twig snapped behind her. She whirled around and looked across the pond where the noise had come from. The sun was setting, creating a dim orange glow over the pond. She peered into the foliage on the opposite bank, but didn’t see anything.

You’re spooking yourself.

She let out the breath she’d been holding, chastising herself for getting worked up. It was probably just a deer. Then the bushes on the opposite bank parted and a head emerged. It was completely gray and neither human nor animal. Yellow eyes locked on her and she froze. One second, two seconds, three.

And then as quickly as it appeared, it disappeared in the brush without a sound.

The Tainted Keitre.

For a split second she wondered how something so big could move through the dying brush without so much as a whisper of noise, but then common sense took over and she turned and ran down the trail to the plantation as fast as her legs would carry her.

JOSIE CLENCHED HER HANDS down by her sides, afraid that if she lifted them above her waist, she’d punch Bobby Reynard straight in the mouth. The fact that he was currently the sheriff probably wouldn’t play to her favor.

“So you’re not going to do anything?” she asked, trying to keep her voice calm.

He puffed out his chest, which still didn’t force it to extend beyond his belly. “I am an officer of the law. I don’t waste my time and taxpayers’ money by investigating the ridiculous claims of a bunch of superstitious swamp people, especially when it’s all happening on private property. You got a problem at your house—it’s your problem, unless there’s a crime.”

“A brand-new section of my fence was torn down three times in the last two weeks. Vandalism was against the law the last time I checked.”

He shoved his hands in his jeans pockets and stared past her out the window, clearly bored with the conversation. “A bear is probably tearing down that fence. Sounds like you’re fencing what he considers his territory. Problems with the local wildlife are not problems for the sheriff’s department.”

She glanced down at his protruding belly and then back at him. “Looks to me like nothing but drinking beer down at the Gator Bar is your business.”

His face reddened and he drew himself up straight, trying to suck in the gut and failing miserably. “You better watch your mouth, sweetheart. Everyone may have kissed your butt in high school, but this is the real world now and you aren’t any better than anyone else in this town now that all that family money is gone.”

“Oh, I imagine I’m still better than some,” she said, then whirled around and left the sheriff’s office before he could retort.

Not that there was any danger of him coming up with something witty in the next hour or so. Bobby Reynard had been a bully and an oaf in high school and he’d made a profession out of it as an adult. She only hoped some desperate woman didn’t marry him so that the cycle could end with him.

“Don’t let him get to you, honey, or he wins.”

Josie stopped digging for her car keys and looked up to find Adele LaPierre standing in front of her. The spry, little silver-haired woman claimed to be sixty-five, but Josie’s mother had always said she was every bit of eighty.

“You’re right,” Josie said. “But it’s just so stupid. High school was ten years ago and he’s still stuck there.”

“Some things never change. You were the most beautiful girl in high school and you had no interest in him. Now you’re the most beautiful girl in the Honey Island Swamp and you’re still not interested in him.”

Josie smiled and gave Adele a hug. “You always know the right thing to say.”

“You’re a good girl, Josette. Your parents would be proud of the way you’re trying to save their home. Don’t let anyone make you feel differently.”

She sighed. “All my work is going to be for nothing if I can’t stop the vandalism. The crew is already spooked and threatening to quit. Without the crew, I’ll never have the house ready to open for New Year’s, and without that revenue, the bank will start foreclosure in February. And all that is assuming the work they do isn’t destroyed by whoever is doing this.”

Adele narrowed her eyes. “Whoever or whatever?”

Josie stared at the sidewalk for a moment before lifting her gaze back to Adele. “I haven’t told anyone, but I went into the swamp that day and I saw what the men said was out there. I can’t afford to tell the truth. People will think I’m crazy. If that story gets back to the bank, they may take away my extension. I shouldn’t even have tried convincing Bobby, but I was desperate.”

“What if I told you I knew someone who could help? Someone who would believe the real story and find out the truth?”

“I’d say that’s great, but I don’t have the money to pay trappers and hunters.”

“It’s a detective agency I have in mind, not hunters.”

Josie blew out a breath. “At this point, I’m willing to try anything, but I don’t have the money for a detective any more than I do a trapper.”

“Don’t worry about the money, dear. I’ve got some savings and I don’t think the people I have in mind would try to gouge you.”

Josie shook her head. “I can’t take your money.”

“And why not? My money’s as good as the bank’s, and if I can’t help my oldest friend’s daughter, then what in the world do I have left to do with it? We can work out a payment plan later on, after you get the bed-and-breakfast going.”

Josie sniffed, touched once again by Adele’s huge heart. “I don’t know what I’d do without you. You’ve been such a rock since Mom and Dad passed.”

“Your mama was a good woman. One of the best I’ve ever known. It makes me proud to see her daughter grow up like her. I’ve got my sons, but if I could have had a daughter, I would have wanted her to be like you.”

“Oh, Adele, you completely undo me.” She wiped a tear from her eye. “I really appreciate the thought, more than you can ever know, but I can’t imagine a detective agency would care about a case that seems nonexistent.”

“This one will. An old friend of mine who died years ago had a daughter who just opened a detective agency in Vodoun with her husband. They specialize in things the police won’t bother with. I think they’ll take your situation seriously.”

A tiny sliver of hope ran through Josie for the first time in days. “If you think they can help, then I’d like to try.”

Adele nodded. “I’ll call the daughter, Alex, as soon as I get home and explain things. She’ll want to talk to you, I’m sure, to get more particulars.”

“Of course. Have her call me at home.”

Adele patted her arm. “Don’t you worry, honey. We’re going to fix this.” She crossed the street and climbed into an ancient Cadillac.

Josie lifted a hand to wave at her as Adele drove off.

What in the world had she just agreed to?

TANNER LEDOUX STOOD ON the dock, staring at his two half brothers, certain they’d lost their minds. “Absolutely not,” he said.

“You said you were interested in working for the detective agency,” argued Holt, the oldest of the three brothers.

Tanner shook his head. “Not if it means going back into the Honey Island Swamp. I left there when the last day of high school was over and have no intention of returning. Not now. Not ever.”

Max, the middle brother, jumped into the fray. “Look, I get it. I wasn’t happy about my first case, either, but it turned out fine.”

Tanner laughed. “You ended up back in your hometown and acquired a wife. I call that a living nightmare, not fine.”

Max shrugged. “Before now I would have, too. Things change and this time it was for the better.”

“The bottom line,” Holt said, “is that we need you. I’m already committed to another case that’s keeping me hopping. I have two cases in the pipeline, but you are the most qualified to handle this one. Max is a good tracker, but he’s not you.”

Tanner looked over at Max, expecting his brother to launch an argument on that assessment, as he had done since they were kids, but he just nodded.

Well, didn’t that just beat all?

Tanner shoved his hands in his jeans pockets, trying to come up with a reason for refusing that sounded even remotely sane. He wasn’t about to tell them the truth. The two men standing in front of him had their lives together. The more difficult the task, the more excited they’d be about it. They couldn’t possibly understand the baggage he carried around with him that he was unable to release.

Finally, he sighed. “You really think I’m the best person for the job?”

“You’re the only man for the job,” Holt said. “This case is time-sensitive and we can’t afford to lose even a day.”

“Fine,” Tanner said, “I’ll do it.”

Holt and Max both broke out in grins.

“That’s great,” Max said.

Tanner wished he could share his brother’s enthusiasm. “So, are you going to tell me what I’m tracking?”

The grins vanished from their faces and Holt glanced at Max, who looked off down the bayou. A bad feeling washed over Tanner. What in the world had he just agreed to?

“It’s not a what,” Holt said. “It’s a who, maybe.”

“You don’t know what I’m tracking? You said this was a vandalism case. It shouldn’t be hard to determine animal from human destruction.”

“This case isn’t that cut-and-dried.”

Tanner felt his frustration with the stalling increasing. “Just spit it out, already.”

“The eyewitnesses saw something that matches the description of the Honey Island Swamp Monster.”

Tanner stared at his brother. “You have lost your mind. I suspected it earlier, but now I know for sure.”

Holt held up a hand. “I know how it sounds, but the vandalism is real and the witnesses are credible, especially the one who hired us. Whether it’s a man trying to scare her or a real monster, we need to know and we need the vandalism to stop.”

“Her? The client is a woman?”

“Josette Bettencourt. She inherited her family’s plantation when her dad died and is turning it into a bed-and-breakfast. Do you know her?”

Tanner nodded, afraid the flood of emotion that coursed through him would filter out if he spoke. Yeah, he knew her, all right.

She was one of the main reasons he’d vowed never to return to the Honey Island Swamp.

Chapter Two

Tanner stood at the threshold of the massive front doors of the Bettencourt family home and wondered what the hell he’d let his brothers talk him into. Of all the things in the world he’d never wanted to do, returning to the town of Miel and the Honey Island Swamp was number two on the list. Seeing Josie Bettencourt again was number one.

He lifted his hand to ring the doorbell, then dropped it again and glanced around. No one had seen him drive up. There was still time to leave and tell Holt he’d made a mistake. Max could take the case. He was a decent tracker.

Before he could cement his decision, the front door flew open and Josie Bettencourt jumped back with a startled cry.

Tanner stared, at a complete loss for words. She was even more beautiful than he remembered, and that was saying a lot. Her long auburn hair fell in waves across her shoulders, and the morning sun reflected off her light green eyes. She was taller than he remembered, but still had a body that was both athletic and feminine at the same time.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t hear the doorbell.”

“I just got here,” he said, angry at himself for fumbling for words. “I hadn’t rung it yet.”

“Are you from the detective agency?”

“Yes. I’m Tanner LeDoux.”

He studied her face to see if the name registered with her. Granted, when he was old enough to make the decision, he’d dropped his father’s last name and taken his mother’s name like his half brothers, and no one had called him by his first name, William, in years. But he’d wondered if his appearance would create a spark of recognition with her.

She smiled pleasantly and extended her hand. “Josie Bettencourt. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

He shook her hand, not sure whether to be relieved she didn’t recognize him or disappointed that he’d never left an impression on her to begin with.

“So,” she said, “where would you like to start?”

“I read the case file before coming, so I’m aware of everything you told Alex. Has anything happened since you spoke with her?”

She motioned him inside. “I just put on a pot of coffee. Might as well have a cup while I fill you in.”

Tanner stepped across the threshold and into the old plantation home for the first time in his life and followed Josie down a long hallway to the back of the house. It worried him that so much had happened in the span of a day that it took having coffee to cover it all. Josie’s voice, when she’d invited him back, sounded resigned, frustrated and more than a little worried—none of them good signs.

The enormous kitchen stretched across the back of the house, floor-to-ceiling windows making up most of the back wall. The view of the pool and gardens was beautiful, in spite of the deadness of winter. Pots of poinsettias lined a brick patio and chairs with overstuffed cushions surrounded an outdoor fireplace. The house had always held a level of class above anything else in town and so had the occupants, a fact Josie’s father had been quick to point out to him many years ago.

“How do you like it?”

Josie’s voice broke into his thoughts and for a split second, his mind flashed to something other than coffee. One look at her slim, toned body in formfitting jeans and T-shirt was enough to remind him of things he had no right to consider.

“Black is fine,” he said.

She handed him a steaming mug of black coffee and smiled. “You’re easy.”

He took the cup and downed a big gulp of the hot liquid, trying not to think of the connotations of that phrase, either. At the moment, it hovered dangerously close to the truth.

“I like to keep things simple,” he said, as much to remind himself as answer her.

She poured herself a cup and added a bit of sugar to it. “I prefer that, as well, but it seems the universe is working against me.”

“Why don’t you tell me what’s happened since you talked to Alex?”

“My work crew found another section of fencing down. They’d just installed it the day before.”

“So more of the same things happening?”

“Not exactly. This time it was different.” She set her mug on the counter and blew out a breath. “This time there was something red on the fence posts. It looked like blood.”

Tanner straightened up. “Did you take a sample?”

She nodded. “I sent it to the Fish and Wildlife Laboratory in New Orleans for testing, but they said it could take weeks with their backlog.”

“I’ll make some phone calls and see if they can speed things up.”

“Thank you,” she said, her relief apparent.

“Is that everything?”

“Yes.” She looked down, averting her eyes from his.

“Are you sure?”

She raised her eyes back to his. “It’s everything that you need to deal with. The rest is my problem.”

“Why don’t you let me be the judge of that?”

She sighed. “A couple of men on the crew left the job this morning. They’re spooked, and I probably won’t be able to replace them. Word is out and there are only so many qualified workers around these parts. Most are working reconstruction in New Orleans.”

“So you’re delayed a bit, but it’s not the end of the world.”

“If the delays continue, I can’t open the bed-and-breakfast on time. I have people booked for New Year’s Eve.”

“Why would swamp fencing hold up the opening?”

“Apparently, the insurance company considers it a liability if I don’t have the fencing and won’t write the policy I need to open.”

Okay, it was unfortunate, but not a crisis. “You can probably get some workers to come over from New Orleans if you pay a bonus. Worst case, you’ve have to refund deposits for the bookings and reschedule them if you think the property’s not inhabitable by then.”

“Yes, I suppose so.”