Page 23 of Swamp Kings 2

Something raw flashed in his dark eyes and he grabbed her face, kissing her so deeply, it stole her breath and all the fears right from her mind. “We’ve got this, baby,” he whispered at her mouth. “God is with us.”

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The low, steady hum of the motorboat sliced through the stillness of the swamp as they approached Nitro’s Bat Shack. The old hunting place looked like it had been swallowed by the swamp, covered in vines and sagging in places from years of damp air.

Lesion and Seer sat quietly behind him as the boat entered the shack’s shadow cast on the dark water, the tension between the three of them palpable.

Bishop fixed his eyes on the dilapidation, or what waited for him inside it. Transformation. Life changing power. And terror that he was making the biggest mistake of his life.

Bishop gazed up at the bats filling the dark sky, their chaotic flight patterns feeling like harbingers of whatever was about to come.

The boat finally bumped against the rickety dock, and Bishop stepped out onto the floating platform. He took a moment to breathe in the crisp air, the usual smell of moss and wet wood taking a cat nap beneath the breath of winter. As still as it was, the night pulsed with its own foreboding, as if knowing what was about to happen.

Nitro stood in only jeans just outside the entrance to the shack, his form silhouetted by the faint moonlight and the glow of Jack-o-lanterns scattered about the porch and steps. His grin was plenty visible—broad and predatory. Bishop spotted his new fangs, extended and glistening. The sight added a mind-numbing surrealism to the Halloween in February décor.

As Bishop made his way to the porch, the bats swirled around him, seeming agitated by his presence, wings flapping in erratic bursts.

“Ready, my Eveque?” Nitro’s voice carried a hint of amusement, along with an underlying hunger. Climbing the steps, Bishop met the feral gleam in his heterochromiaeyes, finding an eerie glow, noticing the thicker, sharper muscle on his evolving body.

“I’m ready,” Bishop muttered, his heartbeat a Revelle alarm at what was coming.

“Gentlemen,” Nitro greeted to Lesion and Seer. “Thanks for coming.”

“Somebody’s gotta babysit,” Seer said quietly. “Nice fangs.”

“Aren’t they?” He led them toward the door. “They come out all by themselves when it’s time to play,” he said, a monster bragging about his new toy.

Inside, the scent of old wood and bat droppings hit his nose. Fucking hell. He glanced at the fire burning in the small fireplace and the scatter of Jack-o-lanterns littering the room. The outer dilapidation seemed to stop at the door where a warm glow flickered over the clean, sparsely furnished interior.

“Trick or treat,” Lesion muttered curiously as he set his own bag of tricks on the side table next to a large armchair covered in a black sheet.

“Felix cleaned up the place for us,” he said. “I dig the light it provides.”

Bishop’s gaze moved along the two ropes extending from the ceiling above the armchair along with grinning pumpkins on the floor next to it.

“Your operation table,” Nitro informed quietly at the creepy ensemble. “Lesion requested the ropes.”

“For your protection,” Lesion explained.

“Or theirs,” Nitro chuckled, exempting himself from the threat.

“I need to clear his neuropathways before we begin,” Lesion said. “You can sit if you’re ready.”

Ready or not, Bishop made his way to the chair and sat, taking the vial Lesion handed him. “This will help relax you.”

Bishop took it and drank every drop, then gave it back. The cold liquid slid down his throat like ice and spread almost immediately, bringing a noticeable shift in his senses. Sharper. His heart thudded against his chest, the blows more forceful and yet slower while the screech of bats seemed to swarm closer.

“Let’s get you saddled up,” Nitro said, taking hold of the rope while Lesion handed him a second vial. Bishop downed it again while Nitro wrapped his shins first to the chair.

Lesion took the empty vial, his gaze meeting his. “If you have any questions, just ask.”

He held his darkeyes for a few seconds. “I trust you.”

Nitro crossed the ropes three times over his chest next, passing them under the chair before tying them over his head. “That oughta’ do.”

His bat brother stood before him, the sharp tips of his new fangs peeking from his upper lip. “We ready?” he asked.

“One minute,” Lesion said, placing two fingers against the pulse at Bishop’s wrist. They sat in the bat-screeching silence while he wondered if his thoughts should be racing or settling.

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