Page 8 of Swamp Kings 1

“But I thought that was—”

“After she found out she wasn’t pregnant after all, Kaphas found a baby in the trash at an abortion clinic and brought it home to her.”

Gasps and awwwws filled the air while Phelony wondered what in the world they were doing at such a place.

“Guess what they named him,” Beth said, with wide eyes.

“What?” they all demanded at her grin.

“Garbagio.”

That brought a blast of pure shock from every mouth.

“You lie,” Juliette said, getting Beth’s adamant head shake.

“The one called Kult named him that.”

“The one that had the demons,” Cat remembered.

“But Butterfly calls him Bagio.”

Another round of awwwws.

“That’s a hell of a lot better,” Tegan said, seeming to holster her fighting words for now.

The Swamp Dragons made a turn in the swamp that brought deafening roars to the air around them.

“Woohoooo!” Juliette yelled. “Been a while since we heard that many at once!”

“Sounds like an army of angels riding in onthunder!” Mah-Mahyelled as the racket grew.

They were all standing now, each one holding on to the other while Phelony kept her ass planted on the roof. She wasn’t about to risk her life and die right when she had everything to live for.

She spotted a pair of binoculars and snatched them. She lay on the roof, searching for her baby in the crowd of people all facing the dock behind the big house now. He was probably in the party of men headed to retrieve them. Lord have mercy, this was really happening. Robots and nuns coming to their swamps. Pinch me and call me a pickled pepper.

CHAPTER THREE

Kult checked on Garbagio as the Bishop’s Swamp Dragon drifted to a stop at the pier. He chuckled at finding him still sleeping.

“How’s our lil’ hero doing?” Bishop asked as he removed his earmuffs and seatbelt. Kult did the same, again checking his passenger strapped snugly to his body in one of those cool carrying wraps. “Sleeping like the living dead.”

Bishop spoke a string of soft French as he peered down at Kult’s newest addiction. “You know what they say,” he said. “One man’s trash is another man’s treasure. Mon Dieu, he is precious.”

“He is indeed,” Kult agreed with a big grin, the sight of the angelic, peaceful face filling him with a million watts of unholy energy.

“My wife is pregnant with our first,” Bishop said, hopping off the boat and grabbing a rope, securing it.

“Congratulations,” Kult said.

“I’m terrified,” he confessed quietly then looked down the pier. “Here comes T-Bagio’s mah-mah.”

“Oh boy. Round two,” Kult said at the man’s warning with a dash of humor. He hopped onto the pier and spotted the blond head of curls torpedoing toward him.

“She looks like she’s ready to Bat-tie,” Bishop chuckled. “Nitro,” he called, waving an arm.

“Bat-tie, huh?” Kult mumbled, puzzling over the card game term while bracing for Butterfly impact.

He gathered his facts, front and center. It was his time with Garbagio. Wasn’t his fault it fell during the Terror Travels through the swamp, but he wasn’t about to give up a second with him for any damn thing. Already, he was conniving for more time, not less.

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