CHAPTER 1
Ruckus stared at his son, feeling unreal. He’d only allowed himself to see him from great distances over the years. Those rare occasions had been like standing outside of heaven’s gates and looking in when he had. Everything was there in his gaze, still powerful and blinding to him as ever. The unfathomable light.
“Are you the shadow I see?” his son asked in a quiet tone, maybe wondering if it was real as well.
Ruckus slowly raised his hand, feeling the power between them beckoning to each other. The darkness in Ruckus wanted the light in his son and the light wanted a go at his darkness. This was surprising and even alarming. “I keep my distance.”
Pain streaked through the energy between them, and Ruckus leaned back at the sizzle. “Why?”
There was no amount of preparing for the crushing loneliness and longing in his son’s voice. He always knew this day would come and God knew he’d tried. The devil sure did. It was no surprise Ruckus trembled under the weight of it as the angels of his daydreams clashed with his pet demons over the words that would somehow ease his son’s pain. Ruckus remembered the short, twisted version. “To protect you,” he said, sure nothing had ever sounded or felt more empty.
“From what?” his son wondered, certain there wasn’t anything in the world big enough or important enough to deny him the love of a father.
“Where’s my wife?” The Bishop man’s demanding question came like a last second lifeline and Ruckus snatched it, breaking the spell his son weaved around him. He stared into the eyes of the man he’d also studied from a distance, allowing his own gifts to reach out and test the odd things in the man. He drew them back instantly when the threat he sensed seemed to be from a different darkness than he was familiar with. “I’ll take you to her.”
****
Samuel followed the man’s brisk jog through paths so crooked, he nearly got dizzy. Was that intentional? His hands still throbbed and burned with the need to touch him and see. He considered the blue-eyed giant of muscle as his breath blasted and burned though his lungs. He looked too young to be his father. Any father. And what was it he sensed about him? What in him made his gifts burn the way they did? He’d been the shadow, he was sure. But Maggie had said the shadow was subject to him. And yet, this man didn’t seem subject to anybody.
By the time they arrived at a shack no bigger than a small bedroom, the questions had piled up. Burning puzzle pieces that needed solving before they went up in smoke. Samuel looked around at the barest signs of human existence in the clearing while the man opened a door in the shack, gesturing with a nod for Bishop to go in. They all stood and listened to Belle Eveque’s sobs and Bishop soothing her. Hearing her alive allowed them all to release the breath they’d been holding from the moment she’d gone missing. Thank you God. He didn’t know what they’d have done to help Bishop if something had happened to her.
Samuel noticed Spook inspecting everything around them. He was no doubt taking his usual notes. There was a lot about the Ruckus man that surely required it and until Samuel understood the hidden things looming before them, he was still all threat.
The man appeared busy at what resembled a homemade smokeless firepit. Spook made his way over and gave Samuel a silent stare that mirrored his own suspicion before returning to his hunt for answers. Samuel watched the man’s movements again, looking for any answers to the jumble of questions in his mind. Signs of brute survival were carved into every part of his body. The scars on his face were the kind that happened during conflict. With man or animal? Possibly the latter given his wild existence. The mangled skin over his right eye begged to be touched. He recalled how Maggie had felt the mute boy while holding Samuel’s hand, creating some kind of conduit for their gifts. Did he have to be touching Maggie for that to work? He wanted to test it now but the second he imagined it caused his insides to thrash with volatile energy. Almost felt angry and eager. Like when he went after the Lazarus demon. Which added more caution to his curiousness.
Why did you hide?
To protect you.
From who?
A dawning thought brought silence inside of Samuel. Was the man protecting him from himself? The odd notion filled him with more need to touch and see what he could.
The man finished with making a fire then put a pot of something over the flames. The way he stood there with his gaze locked onto the hanging homemade pot gave Samuel the distinct impression he wasn’t ready to face him.
But why? What was he hiding?
The moment finally came when the man made his way over. Samuel wouldn’t waste the opportunity, feeling like he might not have many. “I’d like to shake your hand,” he told him. “For saving our Belle Eveque.”
Samuel caught the sudden tension in his body at the suggestion, confirming his need to see. “I can’t touch you,” the man muttered.
What was that in his tone? Anger? Regret? “It’s just a handshake,” Samuel said.
“You and I have similar gifts. Yours are born from the light. Mine were forged in the dark. If it touches you, it will latch on.” The man’s blue gaze turned fierce on him. “I swore to never touch you again to keep you safe.”
The unexpected words squeezed Samuel’s lungs until it became hard to breathe. For some reason, his mind picked out only one thing. “You’ve touched me before?” He wanted to know every detail of that. Did Samuel recall it? Hold it somewhere in his subconscious? If he did, he wanted to unlock it and remember that.
The man stared at him until his brilliant eyes filled with some tormented memory. Before Samuel could study it, he lowered his head. “For a short season. You were one week old. The firstborn son of a powerful and devout Satanist.” The man’s tattooed chest rose and fell as he continued to stare at the air between them. “The light,” he whispered. “Inside you.” His head slowly shook. “It was the most powerful thing I have ever felt.” His clear blue eyes bore into his. “I swore to protect that light. And at that very same moment, the darkness in me declared an unholy war. On my son.” A vengeance slowly appeared with all the other things in his gaze. “And I declared war back.”
The conviction in his words stole Samuel’s breath and filled him with something close to pride. To learn his father had sacrificed such a thing. The need to touch him, to see all that he said became crippling. “I’m not afraid of your darkness.”
The man stepped back as if he’d been threatened. “You should leave. Take the woman. I have the men who pursued her.”
“Where?”
Samuel looked up as Bishop and their Belle Eveque walked out of the little house.
“Bound and waiting,” his father said.
Bishop came over, quietly regarding Samuel before turning to the man. “We need to take them to the weigh station for interrogation. And judgement.”
“What about Maggie?” Spook whispered to Samuel. “Maybe she can help?”
Samuel stared at him, realizing he was speaking to the agony crucifying his insides. “How do you mean?”
“She…seems to be able to show you things after touching.”
He remembered. Samuel’s air left his lungs in a single breath. “Yes.” He eyed his father, realizing almost immediately that he wouldn’t comply. While Bishop discussed the prisoners, Samuel strolled around the clearing, relieved when Spook finally made his way to him.
“I need a reason to get him back,” he whispered. “Besides me needing to touch him.”
“Are you sensing something we need to know about?”
“I’m sensing a million things. I need to be sure.”
Spook nodded, glancing back then muttering, “Maybe we can ask if he’d help us bring the prisoners. Did he say how many there were?”
Samuel shook his head, also glancing back. “No, but that’s a good angle. Let’s find out.”
****
Beth peeked at the giant man standing half a head above Bishop. When he’d led her to his shack and uncovered her head she had to stifle her scream. Then she was caught in his crazy blue gaze and then just as suddenly, again, she remembered the picture Maggie had drawn of Samuel’s father. It was him! It had to be.
She wasn’t sure how, but at the time, she had nodded and braved the question, “Are you The Seer’s father?”
“The Seer,” he’d repeated, appearing confused.
“Samuel? They call him The Seer. Because he sees when he touches things.”
The man had slowly stepped back, staring at her. “Why would you ask me such a thing?”
The suspicion in his tone had put her on notice. “I…uh. Have a sister that has a gift. She can see things when she touches people too. Except…she draws what she sees. She touched The Seer and saw you. Even drew you.” She nodded slowly. “You either have a twin. Or you’re him.”
That news had really shaken him. “Does he know?” he’d barely asked.
She’d nodded with her, “Yes.”
Beth then recalled the moment when Bishop had entered that room. She’d had an emotional breakdown that got worse when he consoled her while hugging the life out of her. He’d kissed her all over her face while relieved, yet tormented French flew from his lips, healing every fear. She’d never felt so much love from anybody in all her life.
She snapped out of her reverie, eyeing The Seer and Spook talking. Poor Samuel. He needed to touch his father. And his father’s refusal hit her maybe as hard as it had hit him. She watched Samuel and Spook make their way back, spotting conspiracy between them.
“How many men did you catch?” It was Spook that asked.
“There were four.”
“We’ll need help getting them back to the Weigh Station,” Spook said. “You able?”
“I don’t leave this part of the swamp,” the man said.
They were trying to get him to go back, she realized. If Maggie could get her hands on him, maybe she could help him and Samuel. Beth stepped closer to Bishop’s side. “They’ll want to hold trial on these right away.” She nodded at Seer. “Who would be the…Parleur for them?”
“The one who catches them,” Spook said, seeming to catch her angle.
“That would be you,” Bishop confirmed to the Ruckus man. “We wouldn’t keep you long. I can arrange the trial to take place immediately so you can return to your life here. We have available lodgings you can stay at.”
“I don’t go into the public. For anything,” the man said, his tone as hard as all that muscle he carried.
They needed more leverage. “You saved my life,” Beth said. “And…as the Belle Eveque, I kindly request you return to allow us to show proper gratitude. It’s swamp custom and etiquette,” she added with a sweet, “Please,” at the end.
She watched expectantly as the last-second hail-Mary threw the man into what looked like confusion. She glanced at Bishop who had a side-eyed wonder-gaze on her. She took his hand in hers and squeezed it twice.
“I’m…compelled to oblige you,” the man suddenly muttered, sounding confounded over it.
Beth’s gasp of happy relief came out louder than she’d meant. She considered the way the man had said he was compelledtooblige her. Like he had no choice. “My father always told me I could sell fire to the devil.”
The man stared at her then Bishop. “Three days.”
Bishop nodded. “That’ll work. We need to get back right away and check on things.”
“I’ll get my gear,” the man said, his gaze moving to Beth again till the intensity in his stare made her press into Bishop.
The moment he walked into his house, Bishop tugged her several feet away. ”Belle Eveque, what sort of lies are we weaving and why?”
Samuel and Spook walked up, and she eyed them, giving a quick glance at the shack. “I just…”
“She knew I wanted him to come, and she made that happen.”
Beth eyed Samuel, hoping he hadn’t been offended. “I didn’t mean to…mother hen or anything.”
“We were trying to find something to get him to come,” Spook said, his voice low and eager. “Seer needs to see him. Isn’t sure if he’s altogether safe yet. We have that mole issue and this dude’s been in our swamp and we’ve never once seen him? I’ve never once seen him?” Spook gave a slow shake of his head. “They call me Spook for a reason, but that level of concealment? Off any charts I’ve ever seen.”
“You think that’s not possible?” Bishop wondered.
Spook seemed briefly cornered before saying, “It’s highly unlikely.”
“I don’t know,” Samuel muttered. “He’s managed to hide from my full sight all these years. As a shadow,” he whispered. “In my mind.”
The Seer being impressed surely had to mean something. “I think he’s good,” Beth voted. “He was gentle with me and kind. He saved my life. Surely that counts?”
“It counts more than he’ll ever know,” Bishop said, eyeing her. “And I’m not saying he’s not…good, but we do need to be careful.”
“I need to touch him,” Seer said again. “Then I’ll know.”
“You sure?” Bishop challenged. “He’s been existing in your peripheral sight for all these years.”
“Maggie needs to touch him,” Spook whispered.
Samuel nodded immediately. “She can touch him then show me what she saw. Like she did with that boy.”
“But you were there when she did it,” Bishop remembered.
“So, we make sure Seer is there when it happens,” Spook suggested quietly, his agitation growing as he glanced over his shoulder. “You heard what he said about the darkness in him.”
“And if he speaks the truth,” Bishop said, “…all the more reason we need to be cautious. We don’t need some Noctambule-third-fucking-eye scoping out our swamp with a war on our heels.”
“He’s coming,” Seer muttered, strolling several feet away while Spook headed toward the little shack, offering the man his help.
“I got it,” the man said, carrying a long staff and several bags strapped to his body. Beth eyed them closer, realizing they were made of alligator skins. Holy moly.
“I need to call my Tech leader and have him send an airboat to our coordinates,” Bishop announced. “Then we’ll follow you to the prisoners.”
****
Ruckus put out the fire before leading them to the tree he’d hung the demon scum from. The markings on their body were of a familiar wickedness but not the one he hid from. Maybe they’d be dead and he could get out of this fucking mess.
He recalled the woman’s compelling power. Was she some kind of witch? He’d never felt such persuasion before. Or had he? Thirty-nine years of isolation had dulled his memories. Not that he had any he wanted to remember other than the brief ones of his son. But there was something about that woman. It was more than chance that he’d happened to be in the vicinity when her life was in danger. Twice.
Maybe that’s where the compelling came from. There was something he needed to discover with her. Something important. Crucial even. To everything.
Ruckus dropped his long-bag and stared up at the men in the tree.
“Thought you said four?” the man they called Bishop said.
“One I fed to the alligators.”
“Are they dead?” the Spook man muttered, angling his head.
Ruckus drew his short ax from his side and walked up to the tree. “I did pray, but…” One swing buried the blade into the rope holding them. They dropped like sacks of human shit, thudding against the ground. Ruckus walked up to the first one and shoved him with his boot, getting a pained groan. “Alive,” he muttered, moving to the second one and shoving him. “Alive,” he said, letting out a sigh of disappointment as he headed to the third. He shoved him and paused. He shoved him again.
“Holy shit,” Bishop muttered upon closer inspection. “They missin’ a few parts?”
Ruckus stood appreciating the dark gratitude in his question. “Hard to get far in these swamps with no hands. You’re welcome.”
“Surprised they didn’t bleed to death.”
Ruckus eyed his son, not liking the hunger he heard in his low words. “I made sure of that.” Had the darkness already gotten him? Uneasiness and dread thickened the air in his lungs. How would he ever know if he couldn’t touch him? He’d have to learn that using his other gift. Acute observation.
“How we doing this?” Spook asked, stalking along the groaning bodies. “Dragging?”
“Through the marsh?” the woman asked, sounding worried. “They could drown.”
“I know CPR,” Spook said easily, eyeing all of them. They stared at him and he added. “I’m sure I could do it with a make-shift hose,” he added, defensive.
They were turning out to be a peculiar bunch.
“Better leave that stuff to Patches,” Bishop said, pulling something buzzing out of his pocket. “8-Bit,” he said, putting the thin rectangle to his ear, making Ruckus curious. What sort of evolution had taken place in the world while he’d been hiding?
“They’re five minutes out,” Bishop announced, returning the device to an unseen pocket. “They’re bringing Night Dragon.”
Ruckus waited for an explanation of what a night dragon was. In his past life, anything with a dragon name implied darkness. “What’s a Night Dragon?” he finally asked.
“More like his Night Demon,” his son mumbled with a chuckle.
“Or as his son Lucas puts it,” the woman said with a smile matching the light in her eyes. “The God of a Thousand Thunders!”
“Mon Deiu, it’s just an air boat,” the Bishop man explained as the woman pumped her fist in the air with quiet vocal applause. She erupted in laughter and the energy in it seemed to imprison Ruckus. What sort of spirit possessed her? None he was familiar with.
“I’m sticking to my name,” his son said.
“That’s not the boat’s fault, Ma Pier. That’s the driver,” Bishop said with a point of his finger.
Ruckus realized what kind of boat they meant. He’d heard them more than seen them. But he wanted to know what caused his son to deem the boat a Night Demon. Ruckus learned to quit caring about any details that weren’t connected to his past but with his son standing there full of answers to questions he’d never let himself ask, it was suddenly the weight of a million worlds.
“I’m more impressed with the odds,” the Spook man said. “You couldn’t have timed getting out of your seatbelt more perfectly.”
“Is this like one of those things the whole swamp knows about?” the woman wondered, seeming happy about that idea while Ruckus added the clue to the mounting details. “I bet it made it into the Nouvelles? Making you famous?” she added, her delighted laughter sparking at his darkness like fireflies.
“It sure did,” Spook chuckled. “My ma-ma called him le petit gar?on ange sur ce dragon.”
They all laughed except for Ruckus and the girl who looked between them. “What does that mean?”
Ruckus waited for that answer, not knowing the language of the swamps.
“The little angel boy on that dragon,” Spook said with a grin.
Ruckus waited for an explanation for such a name and again was left wanting. “Why was he called that?” he decided to ask.
All eyes hit him and the impact made him realize how out of practice he was with humans. There was etiquette he’d long forgotten but even if he remembered, he doubted it matched what was practiced in those swamps.
“Because he should have died,” Bishop said matter-of-factly. “He was thrown over a hundred feet when the boat hit a hidden stump in the water. He landed on a soft patch of moss, getting a couple of scratches. Like the angels caught him in their wings.”
Ruckus lowered his gaze as those details stirred the darkness inside him. It also reached that place where he kept all the secret memories he had of his son. There weren’t many but they were so profound, it required him to hide it in order to protect it.
“Are you okay?” the woman asked.
Ruckus took several steps back when his son approached. “Don’t get close to me.”
He froze in his tracks, both hands slowly raising.
Ruckus shook his head, eyeing all of them as the darkness snarled. “It still wants him,” he warned. “It’s still looking for him. I can’t hide him if I touch him. And if they find him,” he said, eyeing the Bishop. “They’ll find everybody else here that they seek.”
“What are you talking about?” Bishop muttered, stepping too close to him.
Even though he seemed harmless, Ruckus wouldn’t chance it. “The war from long ago,” he said. “The one you fought and won. They lost things. Things they plan to get back. They’ve always planned it.”
“How do you fucking know this?” Bishop demanded, getting Spook’s firm hand on his shoulder while eyeing Ruckus.
“Because he’s one of them.”
Ruckus turned his gaze on his son as he looked for a way out of the tightening snare around them. “They’ll come again.”
“They already have,” Bishop half growled, stepping closer. “They’ve teamed up with the Roullettes and probably those fucks right here on the ground.”
“They have dark markings but they’re not the same,” Ruckus said.
“Don’t matter,” Bishop said, his bloodthirst eager. “They’re all connected. If not with the illegal arms then with the sex trafficking.” The man’s brows suddenly came together hard on him. “Exactly how out of the loop are you, Dark One?”
The question accused Ruckus of reckless irresponsibility. “I hid my son here and got so far off their radar I might as well have been on another planet. I don’t go near humans for a good reason. Your wife seems to have a gift for finding me. This is the second time I save her life.”
“What do you mean, second?” Bishop said.
“I happened to be hunting the night she’d escaped and was being pursued in the swamp. Just like this time,” he said, only mildly amazed. “I took care of the demons. You took care of her.”
Bishop glanced at Spook, then his son before returning a hard gaze to Ruckus. “You killed them?” he wondered with a hunger while his wife stared at him in wide-eyed wonder.
“I did. Slowly,” Ruckus admitted.
“Now you’ll definitely need to let us show our proper gratitude.”
Ruckus stepped back at Bishop’s outstretched hand.
“There ain’t nothing in me you haven’t seen before,” the man seemed sure.
The idea to touch something so close to his son was the loophole he couldn’t resist. And didn’t. The second their hands locked, Ruckus watched as his gift turned the man into a file of transparent images. One after another, like those clear pages in the medical encyclopedia that built the human body. First sheet was the skeletal, second the muscular system, third the nervous system, then the blood pathways, and finally the skin. Only these images held the secret things of his life. The rapid blend of light and darkness had Ruckus racing to create a timeline of events, establishing the plot behind his current purpose.
He finally released it, staring at the man who cussed about the freaky fucking gifts Ruckus and his son shared. Apparently he’d felt Ruckus’s seeing while this was not something that happened when his son touched him. The contradiction had Ruckus itching to understand what he meant.
The woman suddenly presented her hand to him next. “Me next,” she whispered, like they were taking turns with the freak.
Before he could figure out why that was a bad idea, his hand swallowed hers. The sudden light slammed into him, stealing his breath. He watched as the shadows in her danced in and out of this light, then he saw how erratic it was. Always searching for a way in but never able to penetrate.
The sudden slam into his chest and yank on his hand broke the connection.
“Oh my God!” the woman gasped.
“I’m sorry,” Ruckus said, fighting to stay upright while he heaved from the rush. “I didn’t know, I didn’t know she…” Panic slammed him at realizing the darkness he was seeing in her light was his. It fought to penetrate it. “Fuck,” he gushed, stumbling back while feeling like the black plague.
“That was the most amazing thing I have every felt!” Her burst of happy laughter and breathless dramatics stunned him. “It was kind of like when Seer touched me,” she gushed on. “Only fifty times more.”
The sound of a distant racket filled the air, getting louder with every second.
“8-Bit’s here,” Bishop said, pulling his mysterious device out right as Ruckus realized the noise was the boat and not a fleet of demons on motorcycles.
Ruckus didn’t believe in perfect anything, but the timing was exactly that. Because the hand shaking orgy was about to get ugly with his son’s brutal envy pelting him. Years of unspeakable longing for his son returned. To touch him, see him, watch him grow. Hear his voice. Now he was right there. Five feet away. And all the unholy terror that had given him the power to stay away was no match for his son’s need to touch his father.
It crushed his hardened fucking soul.