“There was still some daylight when you killed Darcy.”
“And?”
“I guess it doesn’t incinerate your flesh.”
“Of course it doesn’t. But I prefer the darkness anyway.”
“Why?”
It may be my imagination running wild again, but I feel like others can see through me, to what I am. To the place where my soul once was. “My reasons are my own.”
“You haven’t turned into a bat, or disappeared into a cloud of smoke.”
“Not yet anyway.”
Kieran smiled. “But you are immortal, aren’t you?”
Elisabeth nodded.
“So sunlight can’t kill you. You’re strong, though, so that myth is true... I saw how you took down Darcy with no effort, and you had no problem subduing me. I’d reckon you could take down a much bigger man and not break a sweat. Garlic and crosses are out. Useless. What if I pushed a sword through your heart?”
“Have you a sword, Kieran Landry?”
“I wish.”
“I would heal, though if you didn’t pull the sword out, my flesh would re-form around it and that would not be very fun,” Elisabeth said. Sweat beaded her brow. Could he see it? She wondered what he would think. She still produced sweat. Still slept, even if her need of it had waned considerably. She still enjoyed a glass of port, especially after the tradition the de Blancheforts never gave up, Sunday supper as a family. Though food didn’t sustain them, it bonded them. Like the gift, but somehow more tangible.
“Can anything kill you?” he asked. “Not that I’ll be getting any ideas over here, or anything.”
Elisabeth looked outside again. Nothing but darkness. And whatever lay waiting.
Kieran set her bag aside. He leaned forward, but didn’t stand. “The Rougarou is outside. Isn’t he?”
11
Kieran
The howl didn’t sound like any animal he’d ever known. He’d spent his entire life in Louisiana. His family owned property all over. He knew these swamps, the visceral and unforgiving outdoors.
It sounded like the wail of a man who had long ago been turned away from his humanity.
“Stay here,” Elisabeth said, but there was no way that was happening.
Kieran was right behind her as she slipped onto the porch. Tiny winking lights dotted the otherwise dark bayou. Elisabeth held one arm out, as if that was enough to hold him back.
A new roar pierced the night.
“Jesus,” Kieran whispered.
“If you believe in him, Kieran, now is the time to pray to him.”
“Are you sure it’s a Rougarou?”
“The Rougarou. There is only one.”
“Because it’s a curse that’s transferred when he bites someone,” he said, remembering the old local legend tales that he’d all but forgotten when he grew up. “Can he transfer what he is to you?”
“No. But he can kill me.”
“If it is him, anyway.”
Elisabeth half-turned. “You can sense things. What do you sense?”
He had sensed it. A raw, roiling anger burning to the surface. A desperation to be rid of... something.
A giant, hulking figure swayed out from behind a tangle of brush. His legs were long, muscular, and slightly bowed, like a misshapen man. He rolled back and his broad chest, covered in tufts of hair, were illuminated by a swash of moonlight. His face they could not see.
“Mon dieu,” Elisabeth whispered. “Go. Go inside. My grandfather showed me how to stop him.”
“No way. He’s bigger than both of us put together. We don’t have a gun, or—”
Elisabeth spun around and met his eyes. “Kieran. He’s not here for me. He’s here for you. Because, in you, he sees a reprieve from his terrible curse. One bite and you become him.”
With those words, Kieran was really, finally terrified. He realized now that there had always been a reticence about Elisabeth that he could work with; that left the window open for a future where he walked away from this, unlikely as it might be. But this beast plagued with a terrible curse could not be reasoned with. It would kill until it was satiated. Until it found a new host.
The beast dropped to a crouch. Elisabeth tensed, her own body falling into a fighting stance. It was happening, and he should do as she said, go inside, hide, protect himself, but he was rooted in place. The sinewy muscles of the Rougarou rippled against the moon’s gaze, and then he was launched forward into the air, directly at Elisabeth.
Kieran leaped in front of her without thinking. He lifted both hands above his face, shielding it from the assault, just as he heard her gasp ripple through the night.
Stop! Stop! Stop! He cried out in his mind, as the last moments of life as he knew it ticked into oblivion.
The Rougarou stopped. He landed on both feet with a soft thud, panting, watching.
What did you say to me?
Kieran looked up. Where had that voice come from?
But he knew.
Low, gravelly. Beastly.
You heard me speak to you? Kieran asked, feeling foolish, feeling relieved. Behind him, Elisabeth had stopped breathing.
Yesss. I heard you. I heard your words. I recognized them, from a time before. But I have not heard them in a great many years.
Since you became a Rougarou.
Is that what they call me?
It’s the only word we know. What would you like us to call you?
“Kieran? What’s happening? Why does he stand there like that?” Elisabeth asked, not because, he thought, she sensed what was transpiring between beast and man.
David. That was my name.
David. How long have you been like this?
It seemed a great long while before David answered. My wife carries our child.
What year?
Nineteen fifty-two, of course. What year do you think it is?
Over half a century. David’s child would have grandchildren of their own by now. But to him, no time had passed at all.
I’m so sorry. You didn’t deserve what happened to you.
Neither do you, but here we are, the two of us. My wife and unborn child are waiting. I can see them again,
