Death's Excellent Vacation

L. A. Banks, recipient of the 2008 Essence Storyteller of the Year Award, has written more than thirty-five novels and twelve novellas in multiple genres under various pseudonyms. She mysteriously shape-shifts between the genres of romance, women’s fiction, crime/suspense thrillers, and of course, paranormal lore. She is a graduate of the University of Pennsylvania Wharton undergraduate program with a master’s in fine arts from Temple University, and she is a full-time writer living and working in Philadelphia. Visit her website at www.vampirehuntress.com.

One

PORT ARTHUR, TX . . . CURRENT DAY

“I think you all need a break . . . maybe a vacation?” Sheriff Moore said, nervously fingering the brim of his hat. He dangled it between his legs as he sat forward on the small sofa, suffering the unbearable summer heat in the tiny trailer. “That’s what your momma woulda wanted, sugah. I knew her that well as her friend.”

The pretty young woman before him didn’t answer, just sat Indian style on the floral-patterned armchair wearing flip-flops, a tank top, and shorts, with her head in her hands, massaging her temples with her eyes tightly shut. The sight of her distress wore on him. Emma Atwater’s child shouldn’t have to be living like this. Her long braids created a curtain over her lovely face, but he didn’t have to actually see her expression to know that she’d probably taken offense. It was in the way she’d become eerily still for a few seconds, her shoulders tightening, before she’d blown out a long sigh.

A large fan in the window provided the only sound for a few awkward moments and seemed to invite in mosquitoes through the torn screen as it circulated humid, thick air in the cramped space. Ice cubes melted in his exhausted glass of lemonade and then chimed as they slid against one another. Texas heat was a bitch in August, and it was painfully obvious that if she couldn’t afford the electric bill going up from running the air conditioner, then a vacation was out of the question.

Sheriff Moore glanced around and then bit his bottom lip with an apology in his eyes. He was getting too old for all of this; his nerves couldn’t take it. But things being what they were, retiring at age seventy wasn’t an option. Everybody had bills to pay . . . Still, this girl didn’t even seem to have a chance. Other young girls would be on summer break from college, going to the beaches. Emma’s baby girl hadn’t ever done anything like that, not that he could remember.

Exasperated, he dragged his fingers through his gray hair, hating how what was left of it felt like it was plastered to his head with sweat. “I know times are rough for everybody,” he added, self-correcting his previous suggestion. “I just was thinking that if you and your brother got away for a little while, maybe changed your environment, you’d . . . uh . . . feel better, then we could talk.”

“Ralph is working, can’t take off, even if I could afford to go away.”

“But maybe your brother, he could help you . . . Even though he moved away from here, I know he loves you . . . and could be there to make sure you were all right, wherever you decide to go.”

Jessica looked up and just stared at the man for a moment, too weary to be pissed off. Constant patrolling had clearly been the culprit that weathered his skin to a ruddy light brown hue. His elderly blue eyes were clouded with worry and heat. The poor man looked like he was about to keel over. Sweat stained his uniform, especially under his arms and where his beer belly pressed against the tight buttons of his shirt.

He was right, everybody had bills to pay—so he didn’t need to feel sorry for her. Shame was, he was just as trapped in his life as she was in hers. Besides, not that it was any of the sheriff’s business, Ralph had changed his name to Raphael when their mother died and had moved to Houston—albeit, why her brother thought the woman hadn’t known things was beyond Jessica. It didn’t matter anyway. Although the sheriff was right, her brother loved her and she loved him dearly . . . Raph just found it hard to live his life around somebody that could see so much. Ordinary people wouldn’t understand.

“I really don’t think you should go away all by yourself, if you do get even a day away,” Sheriff Moore said in a tender voice.

“So, now I’m crazy?” Jessica lifted her chin and adjusted her yellow tank top that was sticking to her torso. “Okay.” She hadn’t meant to sound annoyed, but she was. The man wasn’t listening to a word she’d said.

“Aw, now, darlin’ . . . crazy is not the word I was using. I said tired. That’s all.”

Sheriff Moore leaned in closer, imploring Jessica in a conciliatory tone of voice when she simply sucked her teeth and looked out the screen door. “You know I respect what your mother used to do, and you seem to have picked right up on her gift, too. She could see things. The whole department relied on her to help solve murders, since as long as I can remember . . . Why you know, the boys in Beaumont, Galveston, even as far as Houston would come see her when they couldn’t crack a case—and you’ve got her vision. That’s why I came to you for this one, especially after you helped us find that little girl before something even worse happened to her. You’ve got the gift, no arguing that. So, I wasn’t casting aspersions . . . but you’ve also been through a lot. Losing your job at the store in town, losing your momma . . . brother moving away just a year ago . . . I just thought—”

“That I was also losing my mind?”

“No, I didn’t say all that. You keep putting words in my mouth.”

“It was werewolves, Sheriff Moore. Plural.” Jessica said as calmly as possible. She stared at him and held him with her gaze. Thoughts of the way her father had been found years ago danced at the edges of her mind and caught fire, but she pushed the old haunting memory aside. “Those bodies you keep finding in West Port Arthur right off Sabine Lake are not all chewed up because of Mexican drug wars and gators feeding off of what’s left. Mark my words,” she added, standing and stretching, “if you comb down the Sabine Pass and the Sabine River, you’ll find more.”

The sheriff’s shoulders slumped for a moment, and then he finally pushed himself to stand. “Jess, honey, what am I gonna tell them federal agents, huh? They’ve been finding bodies up and down the Gulf of Mexico—that’s why they have FBI all over it with them boys from Homeland Security. They said drug warlords did it; I said fine by me, let’s bring ’em in. This is the U.S. of A.”

“It’s not that simple, Sheriff,” Jessica said quietly, hating to ruin the elderly man’s sanity with the truth.

He let out a hard breath and then carefully placed his hat back on his head, his eyes never leaving hers. “I was frankly trying to lay low and stay out of all this drug business, but when folks from the area started showing up missing, I had no choice but to report what we found. But facts being what they are, I can’t go telling them boys from up north about werewolves eating good townsfolk in the bayou and then dragging them across state lines to dump them in West Port Arthur, Jess! They’d have me committed.”

They stared at each other for a moment, both seeming to know that he hadn’t meant to raise his voice. He was in a ridiculous dilemma where the plain truth was totally unacceptable.

Still, Emma Atwater was many things, a whole mess of contradictions, but she didn’t lie to her children. Jessica remembered clearly that her mother had told her that Jessica’s gift was pressed down and overflowing compared to her momma’s own—no doubt an expression Momma had gotten from scripture readings on the rare occasion that she went to church. The one thing her momma couldn’t countenance was hypocrites, and since her momma could sense feelings and thoughts, church gave her the hives. Jess sent her gaze out the window, remembering how her mother would get so mad at the whisperers that said nasty things about her and her children behind their backs.

“I do miss her,” Jessica finally said in a quiet voice, trying to shift the subject to let the troubled officer off the hook. “Maybe that’s part of it?”

“I didn’t mean to holler at you, sugah . . . I’m just in a delicate position. I think you should maybe take a drive to get away for a few days. When you come back, then, we’ll talk . . . all right?”

Jessica nodded but placed her hand on Sheriff Moore’s forearm to stay his leave. “I want you to look at the pattern of the killings . . . the phase of the moon when they happened. Get a farmer’s almanac and just do that for me. You don’t have to tell anybody. Then, I want you to go to the Navajo reservation and ask the shaman there for two things . . . See if they can make some silver bullets for you and your men, and a potion bag filled with silver shavings, wolfsbane—”

“Jess, honey, please . . .” He closed his eyes and let out a weary exhale.

“Just do that for me in secret, okay? Wear the bag the shaman gives you. You were one of my mother’s oldest friends. She really liked you, and you all trusted each other. So trust me and her now.”

He opened his eyes and nodded, becoming misty at the memory. “She was good to me and my wife when we lost our boy . . . That’s how I came to know her. She helped me find his body and who killed him. So I feel like I should be looking out for her baby girl, too . . . and this just hurts my soul to hear you talking out of your head like this, honey.”

“Well, my momma is standing right beside you,” Jessica said quietly, briefly nodding toward his left.

He glanced around quickly and spoke in a nervous voice. “She used to do that . . . would go see the other side and ask questions.”

“Yeah, I know. It was really a trip growing up with her.” Jessica let go of his arm. “Then again, I used to freak her out, too.” Inclining her head to Sheriff Moore’s left, Jessica spoke to what appeared to be thin air. “So he’ll believe me, Momma, tell me what he had for dinner last night?” After a few moments passed, Jessica shook her head. “Bourbon ain’t no dinner. At your age you need to be taking better care of yourself.”

“You think I should really get the silver bullets?”

Jessica nodded. “And the bag . . . And don’t go hunting for these suckers without those bullets when it’s a full moon.”

Two

IT was clear that Sheriff Moore wasn’t going to listen to her, clear as a bell rung in church at high noon. The old man was gonna get himself killed for sure. Better stated, he was gonna get eaten. Her conscience wouldn’t allow for that; her mother had brought her up right, after all. Plus, these beasts were encroaching on her hometown. Had taken a couple of young kids in high school that were making out after dark by the lake. Wrong place, wrong time, and tore ’em up so badly, according to the sheriff, that their families didn’t have much left to put in a casket. Now that was just wrong.

Jessica walked to the refrigerator and opened it, looking for more lemonade. Her cell phone was pressed to her ear, and she glanced up at the clock. At two in the afternoon, Raph wouldn’t be up yet. When it rolled over to voice mail, she muttered a curse under her breath and hit redial. “Answer the danged phone!”

“What?” Raphael said in a sleepy, irritated tone. “I was working till four.”

“I’m sorry,” Jessica said, squeezing her eyes shut. True, her brother had been working at the strip club until four, but he hadn’t gotten to sleep until eight and still had company in his bed. “I . . . I . . . just need to ask you a favor.”

She heard Raphael get up and start moving.

“Stay out of my business, boo. You might see what you ain’t ready to deal with, calling me all early . . . You supposed to be psychic, so you just oughta check if—”

“My bad, but I need to ask you for—”

“Some money.”

Quiet settled on the line between them.

“Never mind,” she said, hurt, about to hang up.

“Now there you go, all proud. I have been waiting for the last two years for you to just call me up and let me help you, boo. What’s the matter with you? You’re my baby sister, so why you feel like you can’t ask me for help? That hurts me, Jess.”

“I’m trying to hold on to Momma’s trailer,” she said as her voice cracked. “I’m trying to hold on to everything she was and did, and I’m not able . . . Then I gave the sheriff a tip, like she used to, and he thinks I’m crazy.”

“You ain’t hardly crazy,” her brother said, soothing her with his voice. “You was so good you used to scare Momma. I know that to be a fact.”

Jessica nodded, sniffed hard, and wiped her nose. “I’m sorry. I don’t know where all that came from.” The tears came from a deep-down pain, something she’d shoved down so far that she hadn’t remembered where she’d even buried it.

“I do,” Raphael said bluntly, but his tone was still gentle. “You’re twenty-two years old, ain’t had no fun, been living like an old lady; that’s what’s wrong with you.”

“Yeah, well, I lost my job . . . Nobody around here is hiring, really. Can’t even put up my college money anymore, much less—”

“I been done told you, girl, that if you just fill out the application to where you wanna go, I got you semester by semester—we family!”

“But that’s not right,” she said, squaring her shoulders. “You have things you wanna do with your life . . . like go to Paris and—”

“I work these poles like my ass is greased lightning, honey chile, I’ll have you know. I am going to Paris again, this weekend, and will be there until fashion week, so I am living my dreams. You worry about living yours, boo.”

Jessica smiled and wiped her face, and then chuckled. “You are such a hot mess.”

“I am hot to death ’cause I drop it like it’s hot . . . So what you need?”

She couldn’t answer him for a moment. She really hadn’t thought out what she would do or what she needed. All she was sure of was that she wanted to go to New Orleans to help people survive what was hunting in their bayou.

“I honestly don’t know,” she murmured, staring out the window. “I wanted to get away . . . go to New Orleans for the weekend, but—”

“Only on two conditions,” Raphael said.

“What?” Jessica said, a new smile tugging at her cheek.

“You go to the bank and take some of that money that’s gathering dust in your college savings account . . . Get it before that sucker crashes and I have to go down there and hurt somebody—and you tell me how much you took out to go to New Orleans. I’ma send you a replacement check that you can cash when you get back. That’s the logistics—but I want you to promise me that when you come back, you’ll register for college, at least the local community college, for the fall semester.”

“But, I—”

“Uh-uh, Miss Thang. I’ve been listening to excuses for the last four years. You take your pretty little behind down there and register, since you’re jobless and all now. Go to school!”

“But how am I gonna keep the lights on and pay for food, Raph? Be serious.”

“You get you some student aid or whatever, and you let me worry about lights and food—you can work on campus; you’re below the poverty line. Anyway, that’s condition one . . . My help comes with love-strings attached. You’re too smart and got too much going for you to be wasting time like this,” he added with emphasis.

Jessica leaned against the refrigerator and smiled. “Okay. I’ll go to school, but I’ll be looking for a job.”

“Fine by me, drive yourself crazy, if you wanna, but the registering for classes in September is not up for negotiation, girlfriend.”

She closed her eyes and tried to modulate the amusement in her voice. She loved it when her big brother fussed at her . . . It was pure love that reminded her of her mother’s tough-love tactics.

“Any more conditions?” Jessica asked, then took a slow sip of her lemonade.

“No, just the one I’ve been on you about for too long. I want you to get laid while you’re in the Big Easy; just be sure to use a condom—don’t need no babies or STD drama while you’re trying to get an education.”

Jessica spit out her lemonade and began coughing.

“That’s right, I said it,” Raphael said, now laughing. “Tell the truth and shame the devil. I may not be as good as you and Momma on the second sight, but I ain’t blind. When’s the last time you got some, girl?”

“Why you all up in my business, Raphael!” Jessica squeaked. “I don’t do that to you.”

“Huh . . . Oh, so now I’m Raphael, not Raph. Uhmmm-hmmm . . . and yes you do do that to me. See, I have to use words; you just bust into my room and look around with your third eye. Same difference.”

“I do not!” Jessica shouted, laughing. Her face burned, and she pushed away from the refrigerator and began walking through the trailer.

“Yes, you do—don’t lie. But we ain’t talking about me; we happen to be talking about you. Last boyfriend I remember was in high school, senior prom. Then a few fly-by-night dates, and I could tell you didn’t give any of those half-thug-wannabe knuckleheads any. Then you even stopped going to the clubs looking . . . Last I heard you’d stopped going to church, too, like Momma—most of them in there was either already married, old, or would like me better, tell the truth.”

“You ain’t never lied,” she said, stopping by her favorite chair and flopping down in it.

“I want you to enjoy life, boo,” Raphael said in a gentler tone.

“I’m doing okay.”

“No, you’re not,” he said softly.

Jessica held the phone close to her ear and swallowed hard.

“You want what we all want . . . a prince.” He let out a long breath and then allowed his voice to dip down low. “That sure ain’t what I dragged home with me last night . . . but in a tight spot, he’ll do.”

She chuckled sadly and just shook her head.

“But you want the full package—the three Hs . . . somebody who’s gonna be honest, honorable, and hetero . . .”

“Yeah, I do,” she murmured, allowing her shoulders to sag.

“You don’t want to give it away and then find out he lied . . . or some other mess, right?”

Jessica just nodded and released a sad sigh.

“But since you see so much . . .”

“I see the drama coming before they open their mouths.” She sprawled out in the chair with her eyes closed, needing to hear her brother’s comforting wisdom. “The older I get, Raph, the more I can see—the more I can see in advance, the lonelier it is.”

“That’s why you need to get out of Port Arthur. Ain’t nobody there for you . . . That’s why I had to leave.”

“But I don’t know if I can do the third thing you asked me to do while just on a weekend, you know?”

“I love you, too, boo . . . I know you ain’t like me . . . and I appreciate the delicate way you tried to put that. I was just messing with you—you are definitely not a booty-call kinda girl.”

“It’s not like I haven’t thought about it over the last four years, trust me.”

“Say what!”

Jessica cringed. The last thing she’d meant to tell Raphael was that! “I mean—”

“Don’t even try to clean it up; you cannot take that back. I at least hope you’ve got a pocket rocket or something that takes batteries!”

“Raph, don’t start, okay . . . I’m embarrassed enough as it is.” Jessica let out a hard breath, opened her eyes, and stood. “I’ve gotta go.”

He laughed gently into the phone. “All right—I’ll mind my business, but I don’t want my sister losing her mind or becoming some old, dried-up prune. You go have fun in New Orleans and register for class. Maybe some tall, fine hunk who’s trying to get educated might find his way to school with you, who knows?”

“That would be a hopeful thought,” Jessica said, smiling, glad that her brother wasn’t going to continue to rant. “But, seriously,” she added in a quiet voice, “I don’t know how to thank you enough.”

“That’s what family is for,” Raphael said, his tone somber and holding a tinge of wistfulness in it. “You always had my back, sis . . . You never outed me, never judged me, and always loved me—no matter what. If people talked about me, you’d come home with your nose bloody and knees all scraped up from fighting for me. Hair all wild . . . Remember those days?”

“Yeah, I do,” Jessica said, blinking back fresh tears.

“Well, that was what I needed, somebody who loved me regardless . . . so now helping you with what you need is the very least I can do.”

“But—”

“Jess, no buts. Let somebody give you something, for once.”

“All right,” she finally said, knowing her brother would not be moved.

“I love you,” he told her and then made a kiss sound against the cell phone.

“I love you right back.”

Three

HE tried not to stare when she walked up to his spiritual paraphernalia store window and stopped. Her gaze was fastened to the silver objects that glittered in the late-afternoon sun. Golden-rose light spilled over her warm brown skin and caught in her freefall of shoulder-length braids. Her yellow tank top clung, giving his imagination help as his gaze slid down her curvy frame . . . He just wished she would step back so he could also see her legs. But he didn’t dare move, lest he frighten her away. Maybe, if God was listening to quick prayers, she’d come into the store.

He’d never seen her around New Orleans before, and she didn’t have the carefree look of a college student on break or the relaxed vibration of a tourist. Her pretty face was cast over with anxiety, her eyes holding a hungry quality of someone hunting for something but not sure what.

“Justin,” his grandmother called out from the back of the store just as the pretty woman in the window looked up.

He hadn’t realized that he’d nearly been in a trance until he heard his name. But now as a pair of gorgeous, intense dark brown eyes studied him, he couldn’t move or speak.

“Justin! Do you hear me calling you, son?”

“Yeah, Grand . . .”

But the moment he turned his head to answer and looked back, the girl was gone. Panic shot through him, although he wasn’t sure why. He’d seen beautiful women before, but this one . . . There was something he couldn’t place his finger on, something surreal about her. Justin rounded the counter and raced across the floor, glad that at this late hour all his usual customers were gone.

The mystery woman had just gone down the block a little ways, and he jogged to catch up to her, admiring how her shorts hugged her round, tight butt from behind. Her legs were killer, too. Although she couldn’t have been more than five foot six, her legs seemed like they belonged to a much taller woman.

He didn’t want to be rude or offend her by just calling out to her; his intention was to get close enough to speak. But she rounded on him so fast and with so much attitude that for a second he was at a loss for words.

“Get out of my face,” she said with a frown. “I did not come to New Orleans for no mess.”

He held his hands up in front of his chest. “I just saw you looking in the store window for something that we mighta had, then you walked away. All I wanted to do was see if I could help you. Dang . . . my bad.”

“Oh,” she said with a lot less venom. “I’m sorry. I just don’t like guys I don’t know running up on me in the street . . . and I’ve been looking all over for a shop that my momma used to come to when she was alive, but I can’t find it. She never came back after the storm, but I was hoping I could remember where it was.”

Justin nodded. “A lot of places didn’t reopen after Katrina . . . and sorry about your momma.”

“Thanks,” Jessica said quietly. “It’s cool. It’s been a couple of years.”

“But you never get used to losing your momma,” he said, looking at her and studying her face. “Justin,” he said in a gentle tone. “The name’s Justin.” He extended his hand for Jessica and she took it, shaking it quickly and then letting it go.

“I’m Jessica, but my friends call me Jess.” She hugged herself.

He had a strange feeling as he stared at her. She seemed disoriented and a little confused, the same way people look when they’re trying too hard to remember a name or to recall something they’ve forgotten.

“You know, this heat out here ain’t no joke,” he said after a moment. “Why don’t you come back down the street and soak up some air-conditioning while I see if we have the stuff you would’ve gotten in the other store.”

“Okay, thanks,” she said quietly, tilting her head as she spoke. “Yeah, maybe the heat is throwing me off.”

She’d never felt like this in her life, had never been so blind to another person’s thoughts. He gave her an inquisitive look along with a brilliant smile, then turned to head back toward his store. She kept her arms hugging her midsection, nursing the mild current of excitement that flowed from his hand into hers from just a touch. He was talking to her but she was only half listening, her mind trying desperately to sort out a hundred random thoughts at once.

Lost in her own thoughts, she tuned in to the slightly musty male scent that wafted off his body. His skin was the coppery hue that told her he had to be Creole. Beneath his bright white T-shirt she could see an extensive network of toned muscles. He was not too bulky . . . Lanky was how she’d describe him—and utterly delicious. The guy easily loping beside her was a full head taller than she was, maybe more, which made him approximately six two. However, what really captured her attention were his eyes.

They were golden amber brown, as though someone had splashed fine gold glitter into the dark hazel of them. He was clean shaven and had a beautiful, full mouth—a mesmerizing one that made her stare at it from the corner of her eye. He’d locked his hair and had it tied back in a long ponytail, but ringlets of silky black curls had escaped the stylistic invasion. The tone of his voice was a melodic alto, and before long she realized that tiny butterflies had escaped to flutter around in her belly. But it disturbed her that she couldn’t hear his thoughts.

Jessica forced her gaze to the ground as he opened the store’s front door. Cool air assaulted her, and she had to admit that it felt really good.

“Okay, so, what are you looking for that you couldn’t see from out there?”

“Uhmmm . . . you’re going to think I’m crazy,” she began slowly, hoisting her crocheted handbag higher up on her shoulder.

“No judgments when people ask for stuff in my store. Just tell me what you want, and if I have it, you’ve got it. If not, I can get it.”

It was hard to look at him and make words come out of her mouth at the same time. He didn’t seem that much older than she was, and he owned a store?

“This must take a lot of work,” she said, changing the subject until she could work up the nerve to explain why she was really there. She’d expected to find an old crone minding the occult shop, not some hunk with a gorgeous smile.

“It does,” he said with a casual shrug. “But I have to do something to keep the bills paid while I go to school at night—I’m taking up business marketing and management, entrepreneurship track. Tuition over at Xavier is hefty, but I’m not complaining.”

“That’s really cool . . . being able to run your own business, even in this economy, and still go to school. I’ve been saving for four years to try to go . . . but I’m definitely going to register this fall.”

Her honest comment seemed to make him stand up taller. “That’s good, real good. Don’t give up on your dreams. I only got a leg up with a store because Mom and Grand used to do psychic readings in here . . . but after Mom passed, Grand didn’t wanna see no more, so she gave me her part and said sell it. I couldn’t bear to do that, so I rebuilt it.”

Jessica opened and closed her mouth. “Your mom was a psychic, too.”

“Wait . . . your mom had the gift?” Justin just stared at her, gaping.

Jessica nodded as he laughed and walked in a tight circle with his hands on top of his head.

“That is too deep,” he said, laughing.

She smiled and nodded. “Yeah—ain’t it just?”

“Are you gonna fill that young lady’s order, son, or spend an hour telling her all our family bizness?”

Jessica and Justin turned at the sound of the elderly woman’s voice, and after a moment, a bent figure parted the green-glass beaded curtains that led to the back rooms. The short brown-skinned matron was draped in a multicolored crocheted shawl. Deep lines were etched into sagging, leathery skin, but her eyes still sparkled with a mysterious golden amber hue that seemed to take years off her age.

“This is Grand,” Justin said with a patient smile.

“Ma’am,” Jessica said, giving the older woman respect in the way that would have done her mother proud.

Justin’s grandmother gave a little snort of annoyance and came up to Jessica, peering at her with suspicion. “You’s pretty enough,” she said with a half smile that could have easily been mistaken for a scowl.

“Thank you, ma’am,” Jessica said shyly, not sure why this old woman made her so nervous.

“Don’t need ta thank me—thank the Good Lord for the way He blessed ya. Now whatchu want with my Justin?”

“Grand, please don’t start,” Justin said quickly. “The young lady didn’t come in here for all of that, she just came in here to—”

“I know what she came in here fer,” Grand said in a peevish tone, folding her arms over her bony chest.

“Maybe I should go,” Jessica mumbled and then turned to leave. “It was nice to meet y’all.”

“See, that’s the problem with young folks.” Grand let out a little grunt. “You’s too fast to jump to conclusions. I said I know why you came in here, sugah. Open up that bag of yours and let’s talk plain.”

Jessica turned around to look at the old lady.

“I know you got some serious hardware in there. Gonna take a coupla days to get bullets made for it. But’chu gonna need more than that to go after what’s down in Johnson’s Bayou.”

Jessica remained very, very still. She and Justin stared at Justin’s grandmother, slack-jawed.

“After what happened to my Lula, I didn’t wanna see no mo’, but that don’t mean I cain’t see.” Grand lifted her chin and narrowed her gaze on Jessica. “But you too young to be throwing your gift away by trying to go git yo’self kilt.”

Moving to the store counter, Jessica set her crocheted bag down on it and slowly extracted her father’s old service revolver. Justin looked at the gun; Grand just shook her head.

“So, you’s fixin’ to go into the bayou . . . all by your lonesome and handle up a whole pack of lukegaroos? Girl, you plum lost your natural mind.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Justin rounded the counter and stared at the gun for a few seconds, then looked at Jessica. “Tell me that isn’t the plan, because if it is, I’m not making you silver anything, let alone bullets.”

“Okay, fine,” Jessica said, growing annoyed. What business was it of theirs what she’d planned to do? But the old lady had said pack, as in more than a few like she’d imagined—that was her idea of a pack, but the old lady made it sound as though there were way more than that . . . She’d also acknowledged that there were werewolves out there.

Grand scoffed, picking up on Jessica’s thoughts. “You ain’t crazy, chile—not for knowing what ate up them people on the news. What makes you crazy as a bedbug is trying to go after what kilt my Lula all by yourself.”

“Grand, we are not going into that,” Justin said, frowning.

“Boy, I used to change your diapers, so don’t you sass me!” Grand fussed as she pointed a gnarled finger at Jessica. “Baby girl, lemme tell you . . . There’s a lot of mess up in that bayou that ya need to leave be. My daughter was carrying him,” she added with a quick jerk of her head toward Justin. “I tol’ her not to do no readings while she was carrying that boy . . . but money was funny and my daughter didn’t listen. She took a client—a man. His wife was a hussy, was cheatin’ on him, and my daughter didn’t have the sense she was born with not to tell him so.”

Justin let out a groan and walked away. “Grand, would you please stop.”

“No, ’cause this chile fixin’ to do somethin’ that don’t make sense, so I’m gonna tell her how mess goes ’round and comes ’round.”

Grand squared her shoulders and walked up to Jessica. But Justin seemed so uncomfortable that Jessica glanced at him, torn. Part of her wanted to know what had happened, and the other part wanted to stop the story that seemed to be causing Justin so much pain.

“Don’t look at him,” Grand said. “He’s closed-mouthed about everything, always been that way. So you need to give me your undivided.”

Grand nodded as Jessica’s attention was wrested back to her. “Now, like I was sayin’ . . . My daughter told and that husband went home as mad as a caught thief. Lef’ his no-good wife. After gettin’ caught in two-timing ways, the wife blamed my daughter. Have you ever?” Grand sucked her teeth and let another grunt of disgust pass her lips. “But you know hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.” Grand’s gaze softened, and then she looked at her grandson. “Sooner or later you gonna haf’ta tell somebody . . . maybe somebody who got a good heart and who can accept you for who you is.”

“If you violate my privacy, Grand, I swear, I’m out.” Justin stared at his grandmother, his eyes holding a promise to never forgive the offense.

“This girl here got a good heart and it involves her, you know?”

“How?” Justin shouted, spinning on his grandmother and talking with his hands. “Don’t do this, Grand!”

“Wasn’t till she walked in here and I got up close that I could see . . . but her daddy was the one messing with that swamp witch.”

“What?” Jessica shrieked and then tried to adjust her tone. “Ma’am . . . ?”

“Spells and counterspells—they was gun-slinging juju like it was the wild, wild West,” Grand said, waving an arthritic hand for emphasis. “First bad dose came when the wife hit my pregnant daughter . . . tried to make her have a monster—but as you can see, Justin is fine.” Grand raised an eyebrow and stared at him hard. “Satisfied?”

“Thank you,” he muttered.

“You just gifted, is all,” Grand said with a dismissive wave toward Justin before turning her focus back to Jessica. “But then, once my daughter realized what that hussy had tried to do, she did a reverse double-deadbolt spell on that cheating wife . . . sent that hatred right back where it came from. And you do know that a mother trying to protect her baby is stronger than a she-devil trying to do dirt, right?”

Grand waited for Jessica to nod and then squinted and pointed at her, vindicated. “Uh-huh, you know I’m tellin’ it right. Word is, that swamp witch, who by the way was quite a Jezebel, had a lot of bad IOUs out there, jus’ nobody would challenge her. But when my daughter did, the Lord worked in mysterious ways . . . All that bad she had out in the world came fer her all at one time. Turned her into what she was trying to make Justin. Your momma had a hand in it, too,” Grand said, nodding. “Uhhuh. That woman had worked roots on your daddy to get him to leave y’all . . . He was a lawman, had morals and principles, but once that she-devil got her hooks in him, it was all she wrote. So whatever your momma sent back her way added a little topspin on my Lula’s spell, and probably everybody else’s, too. It’s bad business to start root-slinging down here in New Orleans—never know how the juju is gonna ricochet.”

Jessica turned slowly and slumped against the counter, hugging herself.

“Your daddy loved your momma dearly, baby . . . loved you and your brother. But that bayou witch . . .” Grand shook her head. “She was built the way that’d make even a churchgoing man turn a blind eye to the Lord. Big bosom,” Grand added, using her hands to demonstrate. “Long legs, big ole Creole backside, tiny waist, pretty face, long black hair . . . and them green eyes—pure evil in ’em, though.”

“They said my daddy run off when we was young and they found him dead, tore up by gators. Sheriff Moore found him on the Louisiana side of Sabine Lake.” Jessica looked into Grand’s ancient eyes and blinked back moisture.

“Wasn’t no gators, baby,” Grand said gently. “Just like it ain’t been no gators eating people like they say on the news, and it sure wasn’t no hurricane that kilt my girl, no more than it was feral dogs that ravaged her body.” Grand lifted her chin. “For all them years, she couldn’t get to my daughter, because Lula had put down protections and barriers . . . but the storm, oh, Lawd, that storm washed it all away.”

“My momma got sick around then, but she passed two years ago,” Jessica murmured, her gaze going from Grand to Justin. “The doctors could never tell why she was getting weaker and weaker . . . never found out exactly what it was. They just said she was sick.”

“Uh-huh . . . that’s an old-time spell. Jus’ make a person waste away for no good reason. Mean. Your momma probably put something down here to keep that Jezebel and her evil ways kept here and away from her young’uns . . . just like my Lula did. Even evil got an uphill battle when going against a mother’s love.” Grand let out an angry sigh. “She prob’ly just sent evil your momma’s direction, seeing as how your momma died from sickness, not from gettin’ ate.”

Jessica’s hand flew to her mouth. “This witch cast spells so bad that she made werewolves?” Her eyes darted between Justin and Grand, and yet she couldn’t read Justin’s frown.

“No, baby,” Grand said gently. “She didn’t cast no spell, she became her own spell.”

Jessica’s body slumped against the counter again as though someone had punched her. “But you said there was a whole den of them now . . .”

“Uhmmm-hmmm . . . all them men she does her dirt with. All it takes is a scratch, a nip, sharing some spit. By now, who knows how many men she done swapped spit with? If I was younger, I’d go out there and spell-battle her myself!”

Four

ALTHOUGH Grand sometimes got on his last nerve, he had to admit that she was very, very wise. Talking frankly had loosened Jessica up enough that she agreed to come home with them for a real down-home meal.

Crawfish over grits with gravy was Grand’s specialty, but she didn’t pull out all the stops for just any ole body. He could tell that Grand had taken a shine to Jessica . . . So had he. If she passed Grand’s tough inspection, then what else was there—the problem was, nobody had ever come this close to finding out his secret.

But he couldn’t worry about all of that now while listening to the wonderful sound of Jessica’s voice. Plus she smelled so good, a light citrus mixed with baby oil coming off her legs mixed with a little perspiration. Add in Grand’s kitchen magic and he was done.

“So, if this witch is a werewolf, how in the heck do we get to her?” Jessica asked, leaning closer to him and dropping her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “She did your momma, mine, my daddy . . . and now she’s got a bunch of lovers-turned-wolves out eating people? She’s gotta be stopped.”

The challenge was in Jessica’s eyes, the unasked question lingering there—Why haven’t you tried to shut this bitch down a long time ago yourself, especially when you have all the tools and a grandma that can see? Guilt stabbed him; what could he say? There was no way to explain that without exposing what he was.

“The only way to get to her is during the day when the moon isn’t in full phase,” Justin said quietly, now allowing his knee to brush hers. He loved the way she leaned in, the way her eyes lit with passion. Loved the urgency in her voice and the way she hung on his every word.

“Then . . . we can do that.” Jessica took a quick sip from her lemonade and then clasped her hands together tightly in her lap.

“If you shoot her while in human form, you’ll go to jail for murder one, Jess.”

Jessica sat back and blew out a long breath. “Maaaan . . .”

“Lock her in her house with brick dust,” Grand hollered from the kitchen. “Silver shavings go down next, and then bar all her windows and doors with holy water, pour it over her threshold. Follow up with salt.”

“Grand, I thought you was cookin’,” Justin called out.

“I am,” Grand fussed back. “I can walk and chew gum!”

Jessica smiled and then leaned forward and touched his arm. “Ever since I was little, I always felt so strange . . . Do you know what I mean?”

All he could do was nod; her touch had dried the saliva in his mouth.

“I knew I wasn’t like other kids, knew my momma wasn’t like other mommas. Until today, I haven’t run across anybody that made me feel like I was home, like I was with family. Like it was okay to be different. Even extended family shunned us.”

He knew exactly how she felt and exactly what she meant. Without even thinking about it, he gathered her hands within his, as though that were the most natural thing to do in the whole world.

“I think your difference is beautiful, Jess,” he said quietly, hoping his grandmother would mind her beeswax for a while. “I’ll help you trap that swamp witch and her pack in her house, if you want . . . They can’t keep killing innocent people.”

A warm, soft palm slid out of his to touch his cheek. He almost closed his eyes at the sensation that it sent through his body.

“Why can’t I see you?” she murmured, studying his face with her liquid brown gaze.

“Ya needs ta answer that girl!” Grand called out from the kitchen, making them both laugh. “And ya best go home to be taking care of your dog.”

Jessica hid a giggle behind her hand. “You have a dog?”

“Kinda,” Justin hedged. “But this is why I don’t live here,” he said, shaking his head. “No privacy.” He took her hands within his again and let out a heavy sigh. “You know how old folks can be.”

Jessica sat back, extracting her hands from his with a smile, glancing around. “I hear you . . . I thought you lived here?”

“With Grand . . . Oh, noooo. Got my own apartment close to Xavier.”

They both laughed, and he was glad that his grandmother’s intrusion had broken Jessica’s spell. Two seconds more and he would have told her all that she wanted to know.

“Then since you all find me so funny,” Grand said in a peevish tone, “y’all go wash up and come eat and stop sitting on the sofa making goo-goo eyes at each other.”

FOR the first time in a long time, Jess felt her sexuality awaken with a roar. What had always been a dull ache or a dream-state want was now a beast.

Justin stood in the hotel lobby, stalling, the same way she was. They’d long since sopped up grits and gravy with Grand’s buttermilk biscuits, done dishes, and talked strategy and laughed together. She felt like she’d known Justin Cambridge all her born days, and the short walk in the humid evening air from Grand’s apartment over the shop to the hotel made her feel like she was floating on air.

Drawing on everything her momma had taught her, she finally dredged up the strength to say good night. This one was a keeper and was old school, like her. It wouldn’t do to just ask him up to her room and be brazenly bold. But dang, he was so fine, so kind . . . just sexy as hell.

“I’d better go,” she said with a slight smile.

“Yeah . . . you’d better,” he murmured, but he didn’t move.

“I have to come by the shop tomorrow to get all that stuff Grand was saying I’d need.”

“We’d need,” Justin corrected.

“I hadn’t realized I said that,” Jessica said, covering her mouth. “I—”

“It was fine,” Justin said, placing both hands on her upper arms.

Warmth soaked into Jessica’s skin and practically melted her bones. Her breath hitched when she tried to speak.

“I’d better go,” he said with a widening smile. “I want you to think I’m a gentleman.”

She smiled and arched an eyebrow. “Want me to think that you’re a gentleman?”

He gave her a dashingly sexy grin. “Uh-huh.”

She couldn’t help laughing at the mischief she saw in his eyes. “So, what changed your normal ungentlemanly behavior?”

“You,” he said, his smile fading. “Gotta be a gentleman around a true lady.” He leaned in, kissed her forehead, and stepped back. “So, I’ma go, okay?” He made the hand gesture that said he’d call her on her cell and left her with a wink.

“Yeah,” she murmured, and gave him a little wave as he turned slowly, looked back once, and loped away.

SHE woke up with the sun, tangled in the sheets. All she could think about was Justin’s voice, his sexy smile, his body . . . his beautiful locks . . . And then oddly she could suddenly envision his huge black dog. For some strange reason, the big, lovable animal made her smile and made her want to hug it like a big teddy bear.

A chime on her cell phone practically made her fall out of her bed. She quickly grabbed it off the nightstand and opened it, then smiled. The message was brief, but she read it over and over again before answering.

Know it’s early—couldn’t sleep. Wanna get breakfast?

Jessica laughed and sent back a smiley face with one word, OK.

SHE greeted Justin with a big smile as he walked across the hotel lobby.

“Good morning.”

“Good morning yourself,” she said with a chuckle, then yawned.

“Couldn’t sleep, either?” He waggled his eyebrows and she looked away.

“I slept all right.” Her wide grin told on her.

“Yeah, okay . . . I didn’t.”

“Then you need some coffee,” she said, laughing, skirting the subject he was fixated on.

“That ain’t all, but I’m a patient man.”

She whirled on him and opened her mouth. “You did not go there.”

“My bad, my bad,” he said, laughing, leaning away from her. “I thought women appreciated honesty, especially those who could see.”

“We do, but dang.”

Jessica began walking again, peeping at him over her shoulder as he bounded toward her and then loped a few paces behind her, smiling. There was just something about him that she couldn’t define—something very primal and different yet honest and dear.

After they’d settled at a table and ordered, Justin’s expression sobered.

“I brought you something, but not to be used here. This is a going-away present for when you head back to Port Arthur, all right?”

She didn’t know what to say as he dug into his jeans pocket and produced a handful of silver bullets. “Justin . . .”

“You take these home, you hear,” he said in an urgent rush. “I can lay the brick dust and all of that . . . If I would have done what I was supposed to years ago, maybe your momma would still be here. But I don’t want you in harm’s way.”

“But if this woman killed my momma and my daddy—”

Justin held up his hand. “I’ve got Grand on my side,” he said with a mischievous smile.

There was no arguing that Grand was a formidable force, no less than she could argue about the way Justin made her feel.

“Believe me, I’m not trying to send you home . . . far from it,” Justin said quietly, leaning even closer. “But I want you safe. Cool?”

She nodded but didn’t answer; that’s as much as she could commit to right now. The full moon was a few days away, and she wanted closure. But her money was only going to hold out long enough to keep her around for the balance of the weekend. Tuesday night was when she’d predicted to Sheriff Moore that all hell would break loose . . . and now the last person she wanted caught up in that madness was Justin.

“You be careful, too,” she finally said over a sip of coffee.

“I’m cool,” he said, then chugged his orange juice.

“I want you to be more than cool. I want you to be safe, Justin.”

Her voice had come out soft like a tender brush against his cheek. He stared at her for a moment and then reached across the table to take up her hand. Sure, he’d had a lot of girls, mostly booty calls—nothing serious. But he was so tired of hiding, tired of the double life he was leading. Tired of not being able to share his heart and soul.

“Tell me what she did to you,” Jessica said quietly. “That witch. Did she make a spell against you that closed you off from the spirit realm?”

Justin looked down and studied Jessica’s hands. How did one even begin to describe what she’d done to him, in terms that wouldn’t make her run?

“You’ve lost so much . . .” Jessica whispered, shaking her head. “Even your dog; how could she attack an innocent animal?”

Justin pulled away and sat back, then raked his fingers through his locks.

“What’s wrong?” Confused, Jessica sat forward.

“Nothing . . . It’s just a real raw subject, is all.” He looked out the window, hoping she’d believe him.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have pried . . . It’s just that I get the sense that this woman really damaged you—taking everything from you. It had to be a joy-stealing spell.”

His shoulders slumped two inches from relief. “Yeah . . . it was something like that.”

SAYING good-bye got harder and harder to do. All day Saturday he’d taken her around town and then got her to relent and hang out at the movies. Sunday morning he skipped church, instead going to breakfast with her and trying to get her to come back to Grand’s for dinner, but wisely she said no. He knew the inevitable was near—sooner or later Jessica had to go back to Port Arthur. But he’d made her a bag of protection and had loaded her down with everything she could want or need to keep her safe at home. Still, standing by her old rusted-out Jeep Wrangler, the last thing he wanted to do was tell her good-bye.

“I’ma call you, all right?” he said, giving her a hug and opening the door.

“You’d better.” She beamed up at him and melted his soul.

“I will.” He touched the edge of her jaw with the pad of his thumb. “Did you have a good time in New Orleans?”

She nodded, her smile fading a bit as her eyes took on that open gaze that was always his undoing. “This is the best vacation I’ve ever had.”

“Good, then I did my job,” he said, trying to make jokes to cover his nervousness.

“Oh, so now I’m work, huh?”

He laughed. “Yeah, you are. Silver bullets, half a storeroom of supplies, and a crazy mission . . . Yeah, girl, you’re work.”

She touched his chest and became serious. “You be careful.”

He couldn’t stand it. Maybe it was the heat, the way she looked at him, or the sound of her voice, but one moment he was thinking of what to say and the next he’d lowered his face to hers to brush her lips. She deepened the kiss, much to his surprise and completely to his pleasure. The next thing he knew, he’d backed her up against the car.

“You sure you don’t want me to drive behind you to Port Arthur?” he said, breaking the kiss on a quiet gasp. “Like . . . I could come over and help you put down all the protective barriers, make sure the place was tight—then I could come back.”

She didn’t answer fast enough, seemed semidazed, and before she could change her mind, he was out.

“Get in, I’ll follow you.”

“But—”

“No . . . it’s cool. I’ll be right behind you.”

“IT ain’t much, but it’s mine,” Jessica announced, wishing she’d thoroughly cleaned her trailer before special company came by.

“That’s all that matters,” Justin said in good nature, looking around.

She studied him; the hair was literally bristling on his neck and he seemed nervous. It was odd, but he kept turning his head, tilting it like a hunting dog might.

“I need to get these barriers down fast,” he finally said, reaching for her bag. “My gut is never wrong, and something doesn’t feel right.”

“But it’s not a true full moon . . . I thought you said we had a few days.”

He looked up at the night sky. “Some say it doesn’t have to be exactly full . . . just waxing near, if the entity is strong—and I’m assuming by now, after all these years, she is.”

“Then what about Grand!” Jessica said, rushing to help Justin put a brick-dust circle around her small trailer.

“Grand got the shop and her apartment ridiculously barriered. My grandmother never, ever, ever goes out when it’s near a full moon, during the full moon, or a few days after.”

Jessica allowed her shoulders to slump with relief. “Okay, but you should check on her before the night’s up.”

“I will,” Justin said, focused on the task. “Hand me your dad’s revolver. This needs to be loaded and you need to know how to shoot it.”

She watched him manage the task, then accepted the weapon back from him. For the sake of his male pride, now didn’t seem like the time to inform him that she already knew how to use it.

“We’ll seal up your windows, your threshold . . . This trailer is like an aluminum can to those things without it. Easy access.”

His comment didn’t make her feel better, but his confident presence did.

“How come you didn’t go after her before?” Jessica stood on her steps holding the gun, watching Justin work.

“Long story.”

“Last I checked, we got time.” She smiled, but it was a tense smile like his.

“You know,” he said, after a moment. “When a witch casts a spell on you, sometimes only she can break it. I guess I was holding out stupid hope that one day I could reason with her. But now I don’t care anymore.”

“I care,” Jessica murmured. “You’re going to all this trouble for me and throwing away your chance to get whatever evil she put on you lifted.”

He shrugged. “It’s worth it.” Then he looked at her without blinking. “You’re worth it . . . and I never felt like this before.”

Jessica opened her front door, but the second she did a low growl paralyzed her.

“Get inside!” Justin shouted.

Jessica couldn’t move for a second, and what met her eyes didn’t sync up with her brain. A huge wolf with massive saliva-dripping jaws and red glowing eyes barreled right toward Justin. But as her arm lifted to fire the weapon, he shed his clothes and turned into the huge black dog she’d seen in her mini morning vision.

Justin didn’t have a huge dog . . . Justin was the huge dog? Now it all made sense . . . This explained so much.

Brain numb, her outstretched arm held its aim. Somewhere in her gut she knew if she didn’t hit the charging beast before it collided with the protective Newfoundland, the infection from the one would surely ruin the other. It all happened in slow motion; it all happened in seconds. Her arm came up, she pulled the trigger. Her shot tore into the beast’s shoulder, which knocked it back and only made it angrier. Justin leapt out of the way of a vicious claw swipe and made the beast charge again, and just before impact, Justin dodged out of the way to allow the beast to hurtle into the large oak tree in the front yard.

The weight of the centuries-old oak crashed down on the monster and temporarily pinned it. Jagged branches dug into its fetid flesh, making it howl in agony as it struggled to free itself. Roars of fury cut into the night as the Newfoundland circled his quarry, forcing the beast to expend both energy and blood.

Justin was a shape-shifter? That reality alone would have been enough to make her pass out, if their lives weren’t on the line. She squeezed hard on the trigger, and this time the slug caught the beast in its side. But there was no telling how many bullets she’d need to finally put the creature down. In one angry toss, it flung the tree off itself and was getting up. The only saving grace was that the wounded thing in her front yard was obviously having trouble deciding who to go after first. That bought them maybe two seconds, as it quickly made up its mind and whirled on Justin.

A patrol car screeched up as Jessica continued to fire. A shotgun blast hit the beast right between the eyes when it turned toward the new sound, and then the sheriff aimed at the fleeing dog.

“No, Sheriff! That’s my guard dog!” Jessica shouted as the sheriff whirled around and Justin bounded off between the trailers.

“Jesus Christ in heaven, what the hell was that thing, Jess?” Sheriff Moore scratched his head, still shaken. Sweat poured down his face as he watched the beast turn into a naked, voluptuous woman. The poor man seemed dangerously close to a coronary.

“You know what it was,” Jessica said quietly.

“Where’d the dog go?” Sheriff Moore stammered, looking around. “I got to thinking about what you said, some things your momma used to tell me . . . then I got worried because you were gone—and you never go anywhere. Thought maybe—”

“You told me to go on vacation, remember?” Jessica’s gaze remained fixed on the body that was slowly turning to ash. “Damn, she must have been really old.”

“But that killer dog . . .”

“Sheriff, he’s loyal and brave, and I love him,” she said loud enough for Justin to hear. “I went to New Orleans to find him . . . No doubt he fled back there, so he wouldn’t be shot. Given what was out here, I guess I needed him more than I realized.” Emotionally spent, Jessica started back up the trailer steps. “But I told you I wasn’t crazy.”

She shut the screen door and listened as the stricken sheriff drove off. Raphael came to her mind and, without waiting to process any other thought, she called her brother.

A very sleepy voice entered the receiver, and Jessica pressed her cell phone to her ear. “You up?”

“Do you know what time it is, boo?”

“I met somebody while on vacation,” she said, ignoring his cross tone. She needed to talk, needed to hear encouragement in the form of a friendly voice that understood the strange life that lived side by side with the supernatural.

“Get out—divulge all,” Raphael said, sounding as though he was waking up.

“Well, for starters, he’s a shape-shifter.”

Raphael sucked his teeth. “Boo, don’t be so judgmental, we’ve all got issues.”

Epilogue

ONE MONTH LATER . . .

“I told you she’d be back,” Grand said in a triumphant tone. “Mark my words. You jes’ lucky you was able to get back in your car real sneaky and come home after she went to sleep. But you mighta made both of you all sleep better if you would have trusted her to not hold your condition against you, especially after saving her life. She would have let you stay, but what do I know? I’m an old lady.”

“Grand!”

“I’m not telling tales out of school, she really has taken a shine to you.” Grand raised her eyebrows and continued working on her peach cobbler. “Some things are jus’ natchel at y’all’s age.”

“She’s bringing her brother . . . and I wanna pass his inspection,” Justin said, changing the subject. “I don’t want him to think I’m dogging his sister.”

“So now you’re making jokes at your own expense,” Grand said, chuckling and shaking her head.

“You know what I mean, Grand . . . C’mon.”

“All right, all right,” she said, waving him away. “You’ll do fine—you don’t judge him, he won’t judge you . . . and he knows what you are. She told him.”

Justin closed his eyes with a groan.

“Everything is fine . . . Ain’t been no killings lately here this last month.”

He stopped and stared at his grandmother. “Why not, Grand?”

“Oh, I forgot to mention that I locked them other wolves up in their swamp shack, the whole den . . . By now, they probably turned on each other. Serves ’em right. Sorry I didn’t get that she-devil, too . . . Woulda saved you kids the trouble.”