Shadows (Bayou Magic 1)

“He’s right, on both accounts,” I say with a nod. “I’ve been worried about her. I’m glad you’re going to check on her. Please let us know if she—or you—needs anything.”

“Oh, I will.”

I pay the tab, and the four of us walk through the Quarter together. The restaurant isn’t far from Brielle’s apartment, so Andy parked there, and we walked over together.

“This building,” Brielle says, pointing across the street, “used to be called Lafitte’s Blacksmith Shop. The original owner, all the way back in 1722, was Jean Lafitte. He was a privateer and used the shop to cover up his illegal activities. It’s now a bar. Patrons have said, after a drink or two, they see Lafitte in all of his pirate garb.”

“I mean, I see a lot of things after a drink or two,” Felicia says with a chuckle.

“Well, there’s that,” Brielle says, smiling. “But I can say, and I’d never put this in my tour, that Lafitte is certainly still in residence. In fact, he’s currently standing in the window, watching as we walk past.”

“And now it’s creepy,” Felicia says with a shudder. “You really should put this stuff in your tour.”

“No way,” Brielle says. “I would get too many questions, and the hecklers would be off the charts.”

“You’re probably right,” Andy says. “So, you can take us on private tours and tell us all the extra-scary stuff.”

“Trust me when I say, the French Quarter has seen atrocities you don’t want in your head,” Brielle says, carefully selecting her words. “Sometimes, the scary stuff, as you put it, is entertaining. But there are times that it’s more than that. And if you feed into it, it’ll follow you home.”

“I don’t want to know more,” Felicia says, shaking her head. “No more for me.”

Once at Brielle’s apartment, we say our goodbyes, and I lead Brielle upstairs. While she puts her leftovers in the fridge, I walk into the bathroom and draw her a hot bath.

“I didn’t know you were a bath man.”

I turn to find her leaning her shoulder on the doorframe, watching me with a smile.

“This is for you. I think you could use a little pampering tonight.”

“Are you just trying to suck up after asking me about my former lovers?”

“No.” I kiss her nose. “I’m just taking care of you because I’m worried about you.”

“Well, that’s lovely.” She kisses the palm of my hand, then presses it against her cheek, leaning into my touch. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

She crosses to the medicine cabinet and pulls out a bottle of bath salts.

“Here, you can use these.”

“Do they have a special spell on them for protection?”

Her lips quirk into a smile. “No, they have lavender in them, which is good for relaxation.”

“Just lavender?”

“I know, it’s boring. But if you really want something magical—”

“No, this is fine.” I pour the salts into the bath and gesture for her to climb in.

“You know, I was thinking about the killer this evening, and—”

“No. We’re not talking about it tonight. We’re going to rest and let our minds reset. There’s nothing we can do tonight anyway.”

She sighs as she strips out of her clothes, not self-conscious in the least to be naked in front of me, and steps into the steaming water.

“You know what, I can live with that.”

“Me, too.”Chapter Twelve“I don’t feel guilty for anything.”- Ted BundyWhat a pity.

He stares at the lifeless body on the small bed in disappointment.

He’d had plans for this one. So many wonderful ways he was going to play with her. He wanted to make it last with her, let her go for hours before he finally killed her.

She was special.

Of all his toys, she was the one who cried the least. She didn’t really make any noise at all, and he was excited to see what it would take to hear that voice.

But instead, she found a way to hang herself with the ropes he used to tie her hands.

She didn’t try to get away, which was interesting. She didn’t untie the others.

No, instead, she used the rope to simply hang herself.

And if he were honest, that made him like her even more.

Though it was a pity that he couldn’t play with her more.

“Ah, Brielle. Look what you did,” he says as he untangles her from the rope. Her blue eyes are bulging, her face an interesting shade of purple.

But her hair is still long and soft.

So he lays her on the table and washes her hair, braids it, and cuts it for his collection. Even though he wasn’t the one to finally end her life, he was ultimately the cause of her death, so he deserves the satisfaction of seeing her hair in his collection.

Brielle would want that for him.

He smiles in satisfaction as the hair joins the others, and then he carries the lifeless body outside and throws her over the railing to the swamp below.