Blood on the Bayou
   A Cafferty & Quinn Novella
   By Heather Graham
   1001 Dark Nights
   Blood on the Bayou
   A Cafferty & Quinn Novella
   Copyright 2016 Heather Graham Pozzessere
   ISBN: 978-1-942299-50-9
   Foreword: Copyright 2014 M. J. Rose
   Published by Evil Eye Concepts, Incorporated
   All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any crane printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights.
   This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are the product of the crane author’s imagination and are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or establishments is solely coincidental.
   Book Description
   Blood on the Bayou
   A Cafferty & Quinn Novella
   By Heather Graham
   From New York Times bestseller Heather Graham...
   It’s winter and a chill has settled over the area near New Orleans, finding a stream of blood, a tourist follows it to a dead man, face down in the bayou.
   The man has been done in by a vicious beating, so violent that his skull has been crushed in.
   It’s barely a day before a second victim is found . . . once again so badly thrashed that the water runs red. The city becomes riddled with fear.
   An old family friend comes to Danni Cafferty, telling her that he’s terrified, he’s certain that he’s received a message from the Blood Bayou killer--It’s your turn to pay, blood on the bayou.
   Cafferty and Quinn quickly become involved, and--as they all begin to realize that a gruesome local history is being repeated--they find themselves in a fight to save not just a friend, but, perhaps, their very own lives.
   About Heather Graham
   Heather Graham has been writing for many years and actually has published nearly 200 titles. So, for this page, we’ll concentrate on the Krewe of Hunters.
   They include:
   Phantom Evil
   Heart of Evil
   Sacred Evil
   The Evil Inside
   The Unseen
   The Unholy
   The Unspoken
   The Uninvited
   The Night is Watching
   The Night is Alive
   The Night is Forever
   The Cursed
   The Hexed
   The Betrayed
   The Silenced
   The Forgotten
   The Hidden
   Actually, though, Adam Harrison—responsible for putting the Krewe together, first appeared in a book called Haunted. He also appeared in Nightwalker and has walk-ons in a few other books. For more ghostly novels, readers might enjoy the Flynn Brothers Trilogy—Deadly Night, Deadly Harvest, and Deadly Gift, or the Key West Trilogy—Ghost Moon, Ghost Shadow, and Ghost Night.
   The Vampire Series (now under Heather Graham/ previously Shannon Drake) Beneath a Blood Red Moon, When Darkness Falls, Deep Midnight, Realm of Shadows, The Awakening, Dead by Dusk, Blood Red, Kiss of Darkness, and From Dust to Dust.
   For more info, please visit her web page, http://www.theoriginalheathergraham.com or stop by on Facebook.
   Discover 1001 Dark Nights Collection One
   Click here to explore
   FOREVER WICKED by Shayla Black
   CRIMSON TWILIGHT by Heather Graham
   CAPTURED IN SURRENDER by Liliana Hart
   SILENT BITE: A SCANGUARDS WEDDING by Tina Folsom
   DUNGEON GAMES by Lexi Blake
   AZAGOTH by Larissa Ione
   NEED YOU NOW by Lisa Renee Jones
   SHOW ME, BABY by Cherise Sinclair
   ROPED IN by Lorelei James
   TEMPTED BY MIDNIGHT by Lara Adrian
   THE FLAME by Christopher Rice
   CARESS OF DARKNESS by Julie Kenner
   Also from 1001 Dark Nights
   TAME ME by J. Kenner
   Discover 1001 Dark Nights Collection Two
   Click here to explore
   WICKED WOLF by Carrie Ann Ryan
   WHEN IRISH EYES ARE HAUNTING by Heather Graham
   EASY WITH YOU by Kristen Proby
   MASTER OF FREEDOM by Cherise Sinclair
   CARESS OF PLEASURE by Julie Kenner
   ADORED by Lexi Blake
   HADES by Larissa Ione
   RAVAGED by Elisabeth Naughton
   DREAM OF YOU by Jennifer L. Armentrout
   STRIPPED DOWN by Lorelei James
   RAGE/KILLIAN by Alexandra Ivy/Laura Wright
   DRAGON KING by Donna Grant
   PURE WICKED by Shayla Black
   HARD AS STEEL by Laura Kaye
   STROKE OF MIDNIGHT by Lara Adrian
   ALL HALLOWS EVE by Heather Graham
   KISS THE FLAME by Christopher Rice
   DARING HER LOVE by Melissa Foster
   TEASED by Rebecca Zanetti
   THE PROMISE OF SURRENDER by Liliana Hart
   Also from 1001 Dark Nights
   THE SURRENDER GATE By Christopher Rice
   SERVICING THE TARGET By Cherise Sinclair
   Table Of Contents
   Book Description
   About Heather Graham
   Discover 1001 Dark Nights Collection One
   Discover 1001 Dark Nights Collection Two
   Foreword
   An introduction from Heather Graham
   Prologue
   Chapter One
   Chapter Two
   Chapter Three
   Chapter Four
   Chapter Five
   Chapter Six
   Epilogue
   Discover 1001 Dark Nights Collection Three
   Discover the World of 1001 Dark Nights
   Discover more from Heather Graham
   Special Thanks
   One Thousand And One Dark Nights
   Once upon a time, in the future…
   I was a student fascinated with stories and learning.
   I studied philosophy, poetry, history, the occult, and
   the art and science of love and magic. I had a vast
   library at my father’s home and collected thousands
   of volumes of fantastic tales.
   I learned all about ancient races and bygone
   times. About myths and legends and dreams of all
   people through the millennium. And the more I read
   the stronger my imagination grew until I discovered
   that I was able to travel into the stories... to actually
   become part of them.
   I wish I could say that I listened to my teacher
   and respected my gift, as I ought to have. If I had, I
   would not be telling you this tale now.
   But I was foolhardy and confused, showing off
   with bravery.
   One afternoon, curious about the myth of the
   Arabian Nights, I traveled back to ancient Persia to
   see for myself if it was true that every day Shahryar
   (Persian: شهریار, “king”) married a new virgin, and then
   sent yesterday’s wife to be beheaded. It was written
   and I had read, that by the time he met Scheherazade,
   the vizier’s daughter, he’d killed one thousand
   women.
   Something went wrong with my efforts. I arrived
   in the midst of the story and somehow exchanged
   places with Scheherazade – a phenomena that had
   never occurred before and that still to this day, I
   cannot explain.
   Now I am trapped in that ancient past. I have
   taken on Scheherazade’s life and the only way I can 
					     					 			
   protect myself and stay alive is to do what she did to
   protect herself and stay alive.
   Every night the King calls for me and listens as I spin tales.
   And when the evening ends and dawn breaks, I stop at a
   point that leaves him breathless and yearning for more.
   And so the King spares my life for one more day, so that
   he might hear the rest of my dark tale.
   As soon as I finish a story... I begin a new
   one... like the one that you, dear reader, have before
   you now.
   Dear Reader,
   I love the variations of our country in general, but I admit to a special love for New Orleans and the surrounding countryside.
   A few years back, I took a bayou trip similar to the one to be found in Blood on the Bayou. I loved it! All the wonderful stories, and the eeriness of the bayou by night. Come with me on this ride, if you will—and if you get a chance, you must go yourself! Visit NOLA—unique, historical, and wonderful!
   New Orleans and Southern Louisiana offer up some of the most amazing cuisine to be found anywhere. Coffee and beignets are great, but a few of my favorites are shrimp and grits and crawfish etouffee. If you happen to be in NOLA, try out K. Paul’s Louisiana Kitchen. I love their food!
   NOLA is famed for the Sazerac, the Pimm’s Cup (first found in London, but enhanced and perfected at the Napoleon House bar!) and the Hurricane. (Strange, yes. The real ones are devastating.)
   The hurricane consists of a few different kinds of rum, fruit juices, grenadine, and simple syrup. There are all kinds of recipes on line, if you just want to enjoy! But, of course, head to NOLA for the real deal!
   There’s blood running in the bayou . . . and if you dare to tarry in the swamp, the next victim just might be you.
   Prologue
   So far David Fagin was pleased.
   “We have a few legends around here,” he said to the group. “The Honey Swamp monster being one. It’s said that he lives side by side with the rougarou.”
   He smiled at two of the young women in front of the group who were clad in heavy coats and huddling together.
   “Every good swamp has a monster,” he said. “Any of you seen The Creature from the Black Lagoon? Maybe not. It’s a classic. But, hey, there’s always Netflix. Anyway, it was a 1954 black and white film. Horrible special effects compared to what we see today, but kind of cool when you think about the poor stunt man in that rubber suit. It’s your typical swamp monster. Big, scaly, out to kidnap beautiful young women and do in the handsome young men out to save them. The rougarou, he’s different, and he’s partial to this area.”
   “What’s that word again?” someone asked.
   “Rougarou.” And he was careful to sound it out phonetically. Ru-ga-ru. “Some say he’s French. Others make him part Native American. He’s the size of a man, but stronger. Some compare him to the Wendigo of certain local tribes. Now the Wendigo’s name has been translated to mean cannibal, and by some to mean the evil spirit that devours mankind. Most agree the name derives from the French, loup-garou, wolf-man. The creature is usually seen as bipedal, with the head of a wolf. Sometimes, he’s seen with other monstrous heads.”
   Though he and Julian Henri had been in business for several years, this was their first time doing the Bayou Night Myth and Legends Tour. Even Mother Nature had cooperated. No snow on the ground, or even in the air, but the night still brisk. Southern Louisiana seldom received snow, and when it did fall it didn’t stay long on the ground. Out on the water, though, the cold rose like a mist, embracing the bayou and making everything seem all the more dark, chilling, and menacing.
   Insects serenaded the gathering. An owl hooted beneath a full moon. Every now and then came the splash of a gator sliding down a mud bank into the water. Even the sounds of Highway 90 in the distance added to the eerie feel.
   Julian’s family had long owned property and few people knew the swamp better. Both of his parents had passed away during the years he’d been at college. Once he returned, everyone had urged him to sell. Byron Grayson, the realtor, had advised keeping swampland was ridiculous. He’d be happy to take it off Julian’s hands. Victoria Miller, owner of another tour business, had offered Julian even more money for the property. Victoria’s significant other, Gene Andre, the son of an old Cajun family himself, had urged her to buy both the land and the business. But Julian had determined that he and David could make a real success of it.
   Now David was convinced that they could.
   So far, on their first outing, not a hitch, and people seemed to be loving it.
   David, like Julian, also hailed from the low country, which added a bit of authenticity to everything they planned to do on this tour. Though they often faked their Cajun accents. Four years at Harvard had nearly caused David to “pahk his kah.” And Julian’s stint at NYU in the theater department had seen to it that he could switch into a Bronx drawl just as quickly as he could spit out his hometown patois.
   They’d returned home from their respective universities four years ago, had a chance meeting at a favorite café on Magazine Street, then two years ago ventured into the tourist business. They’d started out doing history tours in the French Quarter, then added plantation visits. A day on the bayou had been next, and now they’d moved to the Night Myths and Legends Tour by lamplight.
   As always, when they started a new tour, they led the first few themselves and played up their Cajun heritage. Thanks to reality TV, people pretty much expected them to be toothless and illiterate. But breaking stereotypes was fun.
   Their pontoon boat afforded a seat for the captain and the tour guide. Tonight Julian served as captain and David the guide.
   “This swamp has often been a hideout place for pirates, smugglers, and outlaws,” David said. “The unwary who seek shelter here. Those who don’t respect the dangers because they’re in trouble. Legend has it that, from time to time, the rougarou has happened upon those who hid in the swamp. You have to be real careful here.”
   A nearby alligator slid into the water.
   One of the young women in front let out a short scream and jumped in her seat.
   “That’s probably old Meg,” he said. “She’s an irritable bag. Been around a long time and just isn’t fond of tourists.”
   “Is a gator as scary as that rougarou thing?” a man in back called out.
   “Few things are as scary as the rougarou,” David said. “Remember, this region was largely French and the French were good Catholics. You know how it goes that if you’re bitten by a werewolf in the light of the full moon, you become one.”
   Nervous giggling greeted his words.
   “Down here, we’ve always mixed our monsters with religion. Part of the legend has it that the rougarou could enter the soul of a man who didn’t follow the traditions of Lent. That was a time of trying hard to be good and behave, with kindness and brotherhood toward your fellow man. Bad guys have bad things happen. Good guys get good. And, you see, if such a man had his soul stolen by the rougarou, he would kill all the decent men.”
   “So the bad guy became badder and the good guys paid?” a teenager asked him. “Maybe it’s cool being the rougarou.”
   “Not really. Because the good guys would hunt down the rougarou, bash his head and slice his throat,” David said. “Then they cut off his head and chop out his heart.” He smiled. “So, rougarou, watch out.”
   He allowed his story to sink in before telling them more about their surroundings.
   “A swamp is defined as low-lying, uncultivated ground where water collects. A bayou is a body of water lying in flat lowland, an offshoot of a slow moving river or marshy lake or wetland. It’s low water with all kinds of creatures and trees, with civilization far away. But not so far anymore, as you can almost see the lights of the highway from here.”
   He grinned.
   “1756 to 1763 are the important years. The English and French are fighting. The French from Acad 
					     					 			ia, in what is now Canada, came south to escape persecution from the English. Cajun culture comes from that time. French fur traders first came to this area in the late 1690s, and it was the French who founded New Orleans in 1718. Nouvelle Orleans.”
   “Viva la France,” one of the teens shouted.
   David smiled. “Absolutely. However, the city and surrounding areas were ceded to the Spanish as a secret provision of the Treaty of Fontainebleau after the Seven Years’ War. It took a long time for the Spanish to gain any kind of control, and the flavor of the city remained French, though slowly mixing with Spanish. Then fires ravaged the city. When the area was rebuilt it all became Spanish.”
   “Bravo Spain!” another said.
   “Again, absolutely,” David said. “But in 1801, another treaty gave it all back to the French. By then the Americans had arrived with permission to use the ports. I’m telling you all this to explain the mix of cultures and culture clash. The French had their rougarou. When the Americans came, they added the Anglo church, and though the fear of witches had died out, it was resurrected here. We already had our African-Caribbean voodoo thing going. So we just added all the new stuff in to our own legends.”
   He pointed out in the dark.
   “Just to the right, ahead, is the site where the Good Witch of Honey Swamp lived in the early 1800s. Her father had been a Scottish sailor, her mother a voodoo queen. She cured people, and it was claimed she could control the weather.”
   He shifted everyone’s attention in another direction with a hand gesture.
   “Back over there you’ll see some old houses built up by the bayou. They look close, but they’re about a mile apart. They’ve been there all these years, owned first by the rich, and now by us working stiffs. Our good captain, Julian Henri, lives up there.”