Page 14 of Sweaty Nights & Gator Bites

We were filthy and drenched in sweat when we came across a rickety old place nestled between ancient cypress trees draped with Spanish moss. The air smelled of damp earth and the faint, lingering scent of gumbo. A man stood from the rocking chair on the porch. He greeted us with a toothless smile and a raspy chuckle.

“Well, if it isn’t the Twisted Sisters’. What brings y’all to my neck of the woods?” he asked in a voice that was all gravel.

“How do you know who we are?” Dre demanded.

“Your reputation proceeds you. Plus, I heard y’all talkin’ out here yesterday and asked around ‘bout who you were.” This guy might look like he lives in the boondocks but he was better connected than I was.

“Are you Arlen Voss?” Phi asked, changing the subject.

The man tipped an imaginary hat. “The one and only.”

“So, you’re the one working with Bouvier,” I observed.

To my surprise, he laughed at that. “You mean I’m bleedin’ the bastard. That jackass don’t know up from down. He’s the reason we’re gonna be able to buy this here land.”

“Are you working with the gator shifters?” Kota asked, getting straight to the point. “We need to find out more about them. Anything you can tell us about their habits, habitats, and motivations could be crucial.”

Voss’s eyes gleamed with a mix of curiosity and caution. “Gator shifters, eh? Reckon you’re dealin’ with a serious problem. Them shifters are reclusive and territorial. They don’t take kindly to trespassers but they’re good allies in a fight like the one I’m facin’ for the land. You might as well come in out of the heat. This is gonna take a minute.”

He held the door open and gestured us into his home. Dre scrambled up the stairs first. The interior was what I expected based on the weathered outside. The place was cluttered with talismans and jars of mysterious ingredients. He stirred a pot of simmering stew and shared tales of the shifters. He talked about how they lived deep in the bayou and fiercely guarded their territory. He told us how they maintained a delicate balance with the natural world.

“They’ve been more active lately,” Voss said, stirring the pot thoughtfully. “These businesses disturbed their balance. Could be why they’re lashin’ out.”

“Did they kill the selkie on the east side?” Dre asked.

Voss shook his head and put his spoon on a dirty counter. “Nah. They wouldn’t do that. Sad what happened to her.”

“Did you see who did it?” I blurted.

Voss shuddered and crossed himself. “I came across her after she was dead. Somethin’ magic lingered in the area. It felt wrong. It didn’t belong here.”

Lia waved a hand in an arc and asked, “Did you see anyone in the area at all?”

Voss shook his head again. After gathering every bit ofinformation Voss could offer, we thanked him and made our way out. We navigated through the thick underbrush and murky waters. The bayou was alive with the sounds of croaking frogs and the distant rustle of unseen creatures.

“We should hide ourselves while we look around. We don’t want to tip off the killer if they are still around or upset the shifters,” Dre pointed out.

Using our combined magic, we cloaked ourselves in a veil of invisibility and silence. That allowed us to move quietly through the swamp. Every so often, we stopped to listen, our senses heightened to catch any sign of the shifters.

“There,” Kota whispered, pointing to a disturbance in the water ahead. “Tracks.”

We moved closer and found large reptilian footprints leading away from the water’s edge. The tracks were fresh. And they shimmered with a faint magical residue. My heart hammered in my chest as we followed them deeper into the bayou.

“I’m not sure if I want to find the gators or not,” I admitted, as we reached a secluded grove. The energy there was palpable. There was natural magic along with something darker.

“Same. We need to be careful,” Kota warned. “If this is their sacred ground, we’re not just trespassers. We’re invaders.”

We observed the area, noting the layout and any potential weak points. The shifters were elusive. I could sense their presence. It felt like they were watching us from the shadows but that was impossible because we were invisible.

When the sun started to set, I turned back the way we’d come. “We should head back before it gets too dark,” I said.

The others didn’t need to be told twice. It felt like we were watched all the way back through the swamp. The eyes didn’t feel friendly, either. Instinct told me it was the shifterswho could have been watching with their noses. Why be mad at us? We were trying to help. I reminded myself that someone had killed Melanie and made it look like the gators. Hopefully, we could learn more from the symbols on that altar and other relics before we ventured back out there. Anything that could give us equal footing when we approached the territorial beasts.

CHAPTER 5

DAHLIA

The thick humidity of the swamp clung to us like a second skin. As if that wasn’t bad enough, the unsettling feeling of being watched grew stronger with each step. Ignoring it was becoming impossible. We wanted to get out of there, but what if it was the killer and we could wrap this up right now?

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