Chapter 69: Shadows of the Bayou

The skiff glided slow through the black water, each paddle stroke echoing louder than it should have. The bayou swallowed sound, but it also magnified it, like the swamp wanted them to hear themselves trespassing. Lorraine sat near the bow, shawl pulled tight though the air was humid and sticky. She couldn’t shake the sensation that every tree leaning over the water bent down to listen.

Rhyan was tense beside her, scanning the shadows. Shanta crouched at the front, scattering herbs and salt into the water, her bracelets chiming softly with every flick of her wrist. Mara stood at the stern, steadying the boat with long, controlled strokes of the paddle.

They weren’t out here just for reconnaissance. They were searching.

The dreams of Jadis had returned again and again, always pointing Lorraine toward something more. A threshold. A door. Madame Despoina had told her plainly: such a door, if found, could unlock the full breadth of Lorraine’s magic. But no one knew where it was hidden—only that it lay somewhere tied to the bayou, tied to her ancestor’s bloodline.

And so they went, lantern dimmed, drifting deeper into Dwade’s poisoned territory.

Lorraine whispered, “Why does it feel heavier the farther we go?”

Shanta didn’t look back. “Because Dwade’s magic thickens the closer we draw to it. He’s been bleeding his pact into these waters.”

Lorraine’s grip tightened on the boat’s edge. “Bleeding how?”

Shanta’s silence was answer enough.

Rhyan broke it. “Lorraine, if this door is real…are you sure you want to open it?”

Lorraine’s voice caught, but she made it firm. “If Jadis keeps showing it to me, then it’s meant for me to find. If it unlocks my powers, I’ll need it to stop Dwade.”

Mara grunted agreement. “No key ever freed a lock by staying hidden.” Her scarred brow caught the faint lantern glow as she glanced out across the water. “But something doesn’t want us finding this one.”

The boat jolted as a ripple ran beneath them. Lorraine clutched Rhyan’s arm.

“Gator?” Rhyan whispered.

Lorraine shook her head. Too smooth. Too sinuous. A shadow slid beneath the surface, longer than any gator she had ever seen. No eyes. No mouth. Just…darkness moving with intent.

Shanta hissed, “Don’t stare. If you see it, it sees you.”

Lorraine ripped her gaze away, but her pulse hammered.

The water churned suddenly. A long, black tendril shot upward, striking the underside of the boat so hard it nearly capsized. Lorraine screamed, clutching the rim.

Mara bellowed, “Hold steady!” She swung her paddle like a weapon, teeth bared.

Another tendril whipped up, this one wrapping around the lantern and snuffing it into the swamp.

Darkness swallowed them whole.

More shadows rose, grotesque shapes breaking the surface—limbs too long, faces with hollow mouths, their ember-like eyes fixed hungrily on the boat.

Shanta’s bracelets rang as she hurled a handful of herbs into the water, chanting. A shimmering circle rippled outward, buying them seconds.

Mara leapt from the stern, blade flashing. She cut through the first creature, and it shrieked, voice bubbling like water boiling.

Lorraine’s hands flared with heat. Magic begged to be unleashed. She thrust her palms forward, raw light bursting and searing another shadow into nothing. For a heartbeat, triumph surged.

Then she saw it.

The largest shadow rose behind Mara, towering over the trees. Its body was mist and teeth, its mouth opening wide enough to swallow her whole.

“Mara!” Lorraine screamed.

Mara turned just as its jaws snapped. She fought with everything she had, blade biting deep—but it wasn’t enough. The monster clamped down on her torso.

Her scream tore the night apart.

“NO!” Rhyan lunged, but Shanta yanked her back. “Don’t break the circle!”

Lorraine’s magic tore uncontrolled, but it was too late. Mara was lifted high, still swinging, still fighting. For a terrible heartbeat, Lorraine believed she’d break free.

Then the shadow dragged her under.

The water churned red. And then it stilled.

Lorraine collapsed against Rhyan, sobbing. Shanta’s face was stone, though her eyes glistened.

The whispers in the storm pressed close: Little lantern. You’re next.

Light erupted across the bayou.

Roman’s voice split the night, his coven chanting at his back. Flames shot across the water, tearing through the shadows like sunrise. The creatures shrieked, recoiling, dissolving into steam.

Roman strode from the far bank, power rolling off him in waves. His men hauled the boat in, dragging Lorraine and the others to safety.

She collapsed into his arms. His chest heaved, his eyes searching the water.

“Where’s Mara?”

Lorraine’s voice broke. “She’s gone.”

Shanta whispered it like a curse: “The shadows took her.”

Roman’s face blanched. He pulled Lorraine tighter, almost crushing her. Fury rippled through him like heat.

“I should have been here sooner,” he said, voice raw. “I should have—”

“Roman,” Lorraine cut in, grabbing his face. “You saved us.”

His eyes burned. “Not her.”

Back at the estate, silence reigned. The coven gathered grimly, candles burning low. Felix cursed under his breath. Colette pressed her hands over her mouth. Roxy bowed her head.

Roman stood before them, Lorraine clinging to his arm. His voice was steady, but his eyes were bloodshot.

“Mara is gone,” he said. “Taken in the bayou while searching for the door Jadis has been guiding us to. And it is my fault.”

“No,” Lorraine whispered fiercely, but he wouldn’t meet her gaze.

The witches lit their mourning candles, tracing salt lines in her memory. Rhyan sobbed quietly, clutching Lorraine’s hand.

Lorraine stared into the flames, Jadis’s voice still echoing in her mind: Corruption spreads. He has already swallowed more than he can hold.

Now Mara had been swallowed too.

And Lorraine couldn’t shake the terror twisting in her chest: If the door was meant to unlock her power, then Dwade already knew it—and would do everything he could to keep her from finding it.