Bite Deeper (Keepers of the Swamp Book 3) Read online

  BITE DEEPER

  (KEEPERS OF THE SWAMP, BOOK 3)

  By T. S. JOYCE

  Bite Deeper

  Copyright © 2019 by T. S. Joyce

  Copyright © 2019, T. S. Joyce

  First electronic publication: October 2019

  T. S. Joyce

  www.tsjoyce.com

  All rights are reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded or distributed via the Internet or any other means, electronic or print, without the author’s permission.

  NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR:

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental. The author does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for third-party websites or their content.

  Published in the United States of America.

  Editor: Corinne DeMaagd

  Contents

  Copyright

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Epilogue

  New Release Newsletter Sign-Up

  More Series by this Author

  For More from this Author

  About this Author

  Prologue

  Something was wrong.

  Cole Jennings clutched the rifle to his chest and froze. The wind was whipping in the swamps of Uncertain tonight and messing with his senses. Something was watching them.

  “Do you feel that?” asked his brother, Drew, his troubled eyes on the water lapping at the sides of their boat.

  “Somethin’ don’t feel right,” his dad murmured, patting Max, Cole’s German Shephard, behind the ears. The dog whined and hunkered down lower in the boat.

  “See, even Max is freaked out. I trust him. I think we should go home,” Cole said. “I don’t like this.”

  “Naaaaah,” Dad said. “Big Burly only comes out at night. That’s what everyone says. If we want a shot at him, we gotta hunt like this. I been saving a tag for him for ten years.”

  This was dad’s big hunt. The gator he’d been chasing every hunting season for a decade.

  “Yeah, well, have you been paying attention to where he’s leading us?” Cole hissed. “We’re in the witch’s territory now.”

  “She’s a myth,” Dad murmured, turning the handle of the motor slowly to follow the left split in the river.

  “Uh, I disagree,” Cole said. “I saw her in town yesterday. She had alligator teeth on a necklace. She was watching me like a hawk on a rat. Watching me like she knew things.”

  “Oh my God, boys!” Dad gritted out. “I’m not raising a pair of superstitious whiners. Buck up.”

  “I like survival,” Drew muttered. “I haven’t even procreated yet.”

  “If you use that weird-ass word one more fuckin’ time…” Cole muttered.

  His brother liked to read the word-of-the-week section in the small-town newspaper and drive Cole and Dad bonkers by using it all week until the next word-of-the-week came out. Whatever dipshit at the Uncertain Gazette thought “procreate” was a good word needed a wet-willy, or a purple-nurple, or a swirly, or something. Fuckin’ nerd.

  Something rippled in the water ahead. In the beam of the boat spotlight, he could just make out the long bait pole, sitting almost horizontal in the water. Dad had wised up and found a steel one after the other bait poles had been snapped in half by something monstrous.

  “Is it him?” Dad whispered, leaning forward and steadying the spotlight on the waves in front of the pole. The rope from the pole was pulled tight. Something huge broke the surface, rolling, and Cole could just make out the scales of a giant gator, all wrapped up in the rope.

  “Dad, I don’t think he’s hooked,” yelled Cole. “I think he’s wrapped in the rope!”

  Dad hit the gas and aimed them right for the monster. It had to be an eighteen-footer, just from the size of its back. The spikes along the spine broke the surface again as the gator did another barrel roll.

  “He’s the size of a fuckin’ dinosaur!” yelled Dad. “Head shots, boys! Keep the hide intact!”

  A deep reptile rumble vibrated through the entire boat and settled right in Cole’s chest. Adrenaline was surging through his veins, and he braced himself as Dad pulled alongside the rolling animal. Dad and Drew were yelling, the boat engine was roaring, Max was barking, and that gator was letting off a roar under the surface of the water that Cole had never heard before. It was him. Big Burley. It had to be him. Cole lifted the rifle, and his ears were ringing with the chaos.

  “No! No, don’t shoot!”

  What? Two breaths and hold.

  Shit, the boat was rocking so bad. He braced his leg against the side and aimed at the waves illuminated by Dad’s spotlight. He really wasn’t hooked. Cole could tell when he rolled over again. His head was almost as big as the boat! And there were no ropes around his mouth. He was just caught in the rope, and if that snapped? He would be gone. Who was screaming like that? Shrieking, really. Rest your finger on the trigger. Steady now. Just wait for him to roll over and then head shot.

  “Stop!” A woman’s voice? Was he imagining it? Everything was so loud, his ears were ringing.

  Time slowed. Max’s bark echoed like a war drum in his head. The spotlight faltered as a wave hit the side of the boat, and Cole rocked backward but held the scope on the gator. And then he saw the eyes. They weren’t like any gator’s he’d ever seen. They were…blue. With human pupils. But he was already pulling the trigger.

  Confused, he yanked the trigger, and the explosion of the bullet leaving the chamber of his rifle knocked him off balance just as a blast of wind slapped against him like a hurricane. He hit the water hard and was pulled under the murky waves. Unable to tell which way was up, Cole let the rifle go, watched the direction it sank, and swam the opposite way. Finally, lungs on fire, he broke the surface of the roiling waves and gasped for breath. An instant later, something latched onto his leg and dragged him down once again. Razors. It felt like razors sawing into his leg, and he was pulled into a barrel roll. His lungs were bursting, his leg was being chewed off, and he would never take another breath of oxygen.

  He screamed, and in horror, watched the bubbles bellow from his face and float to the surface of the swamp. This was it. Death. Death by the gators he’d been hunting his whole life.

  Mae. Her face came into his mind. Pretty Mae with her dark hair, freckles, and soft hazel eyes that were always dancing with happiness. She’d asked him to stay home tonight and take her to dinner, but he hadn’t. He was dying instead.

  I’m sorry, Mae.

  The gator released his leg. Oh, the pain! The ache. The blood. Someone was beaming a spotlight into the water but it wasn’t brown and murky anymore. It was crimson waves. Red bubbles and crimson water.

  Desperate
ly, he pulled himself to the surface. He gasped for air and searched the water. The boat was overturned, and he didn’t see Dad or Drew. Just the spotlight that was floating down toward the bottom of the swamp, getting dimmer with every foot it fell into the dark water.

  “Dad?” Shit, his leg wasn’t working. “Drew?” Everything hurt. Every cell in his body. Every breath he dragged into his lungs. “Dad!! Drew!”

  Max was barking, swimming near him, snarling, the whites of his eyes showing with fear or rage, Cole couldn’t tell. He tried to swim to the dog, but his body was pulsing with pain, and his legs weren’t working. Max paddled for him, but just as he reached Cole, he was pulled under.

  “Max!” Cole screamed. He gasped a breath and lowered himself under the waves, but all he could see was floating silt and red. Red everywhere. The water was cold. No…he was getting cold. Something strong encircled Cole’s waist and dragged him backward so fast his body folded. Sucked into the current, his hands were nearly touching his toes, his head was underwater, and he hadn’t gotten a breath since his dive. What could possibly have this much power that could drag a grown man through the waves like he weighed nothing?

  Suddenly, he was catapulted out of the water and slammed onto the shore. The breath blasted out of his body, and he couldn’t pull another one in. Coughing swamp water, he clawed at the mud in desperation, silently pleading for his body to work again. He couldn’t breathe—couldn’t breathe!

  Max was whining. Max?

  “Help him,” a man’s voice whispered.

  “I can’t help him, Holt. His leg is nearly gone! And fuck him! He tried to shoot you.”

  “He didn’t know. He didn’t know what I was…”

  Max’s whining was so loud it made Cole’s head hurt. The voices faded to a high-pitched buzzing sound.

  “I know him,” a fuzzy voice came through. “He’s my age. A local. Gram, help him.”

  There was a loaded moment as Colt stared up into the dark Uncertain sky. There were no clouds tonight. Dad? Drew? Were they okay? No one was screaming anymore. Now it was quiet. Just him and the stars. Max? He was whining, licking Cole’s face. “Maaax,” he whispered. So cold. His body wasn’t working, and he was so cold. Even the pain in his leg was fading. Cole gripped the scruff of Max’s neck, but the dog wasn’t moving any closer. Something was wrong.

  “I don’t want this,” someone murmured.

  Cole opened his eyes to find Holt Lachlan and his Gram, the Lachlan Witch. The Witch of Uncertain.

  She looked angry. Furious. She gripped Cole’s hair and yanked his head back until he couldn’t see anything but the fury in her eyes. “If you want to live, you’ll pay a price and so will I.”

  “My dog. Dad….Drew…”

  “Your dad and brother will live. You tried to kill my boy tonight. You almost killed my boy.” She bared her teeth, such a bright white against all the darkness closing in on him. “Sometimes dying is a better option. You’ll learn that soon enough. You’ll never be the same, but it’s your choice. Do you want to live?” she growled.

  Cole couldn’t find words anymore, so cold he could only nod.

  “You’ll be the new Keeper of the Swamp. You almost killed my Holt, but now you’ll protect him, or you and your family will die.”

  Die? Die? Heaving breath, he asked, “And Max?”

  The witch narrowed her eyes. “Now, you’re Max.”

  She placed her hand on his chest, and a burning pain ripped through his body. She was conjuring a fire inside of Cole, burning him from the inside out.

  Beside him, Max stopped whining.

  And then the real pain began.

  Chapter One

  Three years.

  Mae Dafoe hadn’t been back to Uncertain, TX in three years, one week, six days, and fourteen hours. She remembered the exact time her uncle had driven her to the airport and she’d seen that Now Leaving Uncertain sign.

  Three years, but it felt like a lifetime ago when her boyfriend Cole had drowned in the swamps.

  Uncle Jed was sure different than she remembered. His hair was streaked with gray now, he had more wrinkles, and his voice had a little more gravel to it. He was sitting just across the bench seat of his pickup truck, but he might as well have been a hundred miles away. That was her fault. She hadn’t paid attention while he was talking, catching her up on the happenings of the small town. She was too busy taking a trip down memory lane.

  How many times had she passed the population sign? Just over 500 still. Jesus, this place was tiny. How many times had she walked this downtown, shopping at the few stores available with her friends? With him. With Cole. How many times had she eaten at that fried chicken place? Or that Italian hole-in-the-wall restaurant? Drank at that little po-dunk bar right there on the left? Made a scene and danced on the bar at Tacky’s? God, she used to be wild.

  How many times had she painted this town red with a boy? A boy she used to love? A boy who had disappeared?

  “Whatever happens in this town while you’re here…promise me you won’t let it get to you.”

  Mae frowned at her Uncle Jeb, shook her head slightly. “I don’t understand.”

  “Just…enjoy the three days here as a visit, just remembering old times. Don’t get attached to anything that happens.” His bushy gray brows raised up high. “Or any old friends you run into.”

  She didn’t understand the worried look in his eyes. “Uncle Jeb, my life is back in Baton Rouge. I can’t name a single thing that could make me give that up for this place.” She swallowed hard and shrugged up one shoulder. The only person who could’ve kept her here didn’t exist anymore. “Why do you care if I get attached to this place again?”

  “Because we all saw what you went through, Mae. We know why you left. Your heart got broken here, and you needed to go piece it back together somewhere else. And you did. In a big city where the small-town talk can’t get to you. No looking back. Now, we know you’re back in Uncertain for a reason. Three days, and then you can go back to the life you’ve built. That’s what the whole family wants.” Uncle Jeb patted her knee. “You were the one who made it out. We’re all real proud of where you ended up. We don’t want you to backtrack.”

  Yeah? They were proud? Of her being lonely? Displaced? Frustrated? Empty? But she guessed if she kept working her way up in Baton Rouge Realty, she would make a good income, so there was that. She’d already sold two big houses this year and seven smaller ones. Two years of working day and night to build her career, and one year of success. It was a dream job, just…lonely. Cities were like that for people like her.

  “You’re the first Dafoe to make something of themselves,” Uncle Jeb continued, his chin up and a grin painting his face as he turned onto a road she’d been on hundreds of times.

  An old familiar blanket of warmth enveloped her as they drove toward her great grandma’s old house on the edge of the swamp. Mae had always called her Tabby, because she hadn’t liked to be called granny, much less great-granny.

  “Ninety-five years old, can you believe it?” Uncle Jeb asked. Tabby’s old house came into view where two rows of cars were sitting in the yard out front, people milling around them. “Now, I know we got some of those long-lasting genetics, but Tabby was out gigging frogs until last Thursday. She had a date with Barry Moore on Friday! Old she-scamp was living her best life until the very end.”

  Mae let off a single, huffed laugh. “That doesn’t surprise me. Tabby was a tough old bird.”

  “The toughest. Like beef jerky tough. I hope I have her longevity.”

  Mae laughed. “Uncle Jeb, you and I both know her longevity came from never getting married. She said as much every week or so. You’ve been married three times. You’re screwed.”

  “Ha!” Jeb crowed. “Stop sassing, or I’ll kick you out of the truck and make you walk to the house.”

  “It’s maybe a hundred yards. I think I could make it,” she murmured sarcastically.

  “You ain’t used to the swamp
bugs no more, city slicker! If I made you walk from here, you’d perish before you even got to the house.” Uncle Jeb gestured to her feet. “And them shoes will get you killed even faster than the bugs will. What in Sam Hill convinced you to wear high heels?”

  “It’s a wake,” she murmured. “I dressed up out of respect.”

  Uncle Jeb snorted and shook his head, one hand dangling off the steering wheel as he pulled to a stop. He gestured to the couple walking right in front of the grill of the truck. Cousin Fred and his wife Gene were wearing matching cut-off shorts and boots and beer-themed trucker hats. They both grinned and waved.

  “I know you got the invite, Mae Lynn. Tabby specifically said to make her funeral a Celebration of Life and hang tradition.”

  “Who plans their own funeral anyway?” she muttered, shoving the door open.

  “Tabby. She’s been planning this party for years. Said she was ready to die back in 2000, but the good Lord apparently saw fit to keep her around to drive all the old men in our town nuts. I think she had eight boyfriends.”

  “Oh, God, are they all here?”

  “You bet your ass she invited them all. She’s probably cackling up at us from hell right now.”

  Mae was giggling so much, she was pretty convinced she would go to the fiery place when she croaked, too. She hopped out of the car. “We should not be making jokes at a funeral.”

  “Celebration of Life,” Uncle Jeb corrected Mae, waving her to catch up with him.

  Her high heels were stabbing into the muddy earth, though, and the suction was making it hard to keep them on. Slurp, slurp…slurp.

  “If I had a water balloon right now, I’d pelt you with it,” Uncle Jeb assured her. “High heels. What the fuck was you thinking?”

  A raindrop splatted against her forehead and dripped into her eye. Great. She’d curled her hair this morning, and the rain was going to make her look like a wet poodle before she even made it to the front porch.

  “Take ’em off!” Cousin Fred crowed from the open doorway.