Page 7

Something cold and hard locked around my upper arm and yanked. I yelped and tried to jerk away, but whatever got me was strong and determined. The grip burned, like grabbing onto an electric fence. Magical energy shot through me.

Before I could twist around to see who—or what—had me, I was pulled through the reeds with a speed and violence that left the bayou spinning. I crashed through a patch of prickly palmetto and landed flat on my back in the mud, blinking up at a sky now blurred by pain and confusion.

There was no one standing over me. No prankster, no were-child, not even one of the neighborhood nutria Shifters. No one.

Except I could hear them. Two voices, low and whispery, arguing in a hushed tones so that I couldn’t understand what they were saying. One was deep and raspy, the other quick and lilting.

I rolled to my feet, covered in muck, and search the reeds.

The voices kept up their back-and-forth, clearly bickering, but I saw nothing.

Not even the fluttering wing of an insect.

I tried to channel my magic, just enough for some basic sight— hoping to conjure a spells for tracking poltergeists or invisible friends—but my magic sparked, then fizzled. As it often did when I was stressed.

I rubbed my arm, still feeling the burn of the harsh grip.

I heard the voices still, but they seemed to be getting farther away, receding into the maze of reeds and branches.

I tried to focus, tried to memorize the cadence or at least a word or two, but it’s like trying to catch smoke in a butterfly net.

I stumbled after them, slipping in the mud, but every step seems to push them farther out of reach. I wanted to call for Etienne, for the kids, but the words died in my throat. My energy felt as if it had been sucked from me. Whoever—or whatever—just tried to snatch me wasn’t playing.

As the last of the whispers faded, I caught a single, clear word. It sounds like “prenze,” or maybe “brenze,” hissed out in a long drawl.

Then there was nothing but the sound of my own breathing and the distant “Found you!” in Lisette’s gleeful voice from the far side of the bayou.

I took a deep breath, swallowed my panic, and shuffled my way back toward the dock. No sense letting everyone else know I was just manhandled by an invisible force of nature. Not yet.

Lisette found me first, peeking out from behind a clump of cattails. “You are not hiding, Mommy.” She frowned. “And you are all dirty.”

I forced a smile and made to pick her up. But I realized I couldn’t. I felt as if I’d run an Iron Man after fasting for a week. I swayed, spots dancing in front of my eyes. No, I couldn’t pass out cold in front of my daughter. Now, that would be traumatizing.

Hugo arrived next, panting, with Etienne trailing behind at a much more dignified pace.

“I won,” Hugo declared, as if it’s a matter of public record.

Lisette tore her gaze away from me to scowl at her brother. “You did not win. I stopped looking.” Her worried look returned to me. “I stopped because Maman is covered in swamp.”

Now both Hugo and Etienne looked me over, concern flickering in their eyes.

I forced a wan smile. “I just tripped. Over a root. I’m fine.”

Etienne stepped forward, touching his fingers lightly to a spot on my forehead. I winced, not even realizing I had an injury there.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked, his eyes roaming over me.

I nodded even though I still felt sore and lightheaded. “I’m right as rain. But I do think I’m a little tired out.” That was an understatement.

Etienne studied me a moment longer, then turned to the kids. “I’m getting a little tired too. Maybe we should head home, and I can turn on the sprinklers so you can run through them and cool off."

Both of the children cheered as another wave of vertigo and utter exhaustion hit me. I was never more thankful for one of Etienne’s suggestions.

The rest of the day passed in an exhaustive blur for me, but I was determined to shake it off and not let anything ruin what had been a very special day. Etienne had spent much of the time sending me concerned and probing looks, but he didn’t press me.

That is until he joined me on the porch, where I sat curled in one of the wicker rockers with a cup of herbal tea.

He sat down in the chair next to me, a glass of bourbon on the rocks in his hand. “Okay, so are you finally going to tell me what happened today?”

I wanted to tell him. I wanted to spill everything—the grab, the voices, the icy pain in my arm.

The draining of all my energy. But I didn’t want to upset him.

Not when everything else had been so perfect.

Plus, the more time that passed, the more I wonder if I had just hallucinated the whole thing.

Okay, that didn’t seem likely. But it had been truly surreal—almost dreamlike now. Or nightmarish.

I shrugged. “I think I must have just been so tired that I tripped.”

He looked thoroughly unconvinced, but he said nothing and just took a swig of his drink.

We sat in silence, listening to the night sounds on the bayou and watching heat lightning flicker on the horizon.

I tried to tell myself that I had just created the whole crazy event in my pregnancy brain.

I took a sip of my tea, suppressing a wince at the lingering burn in my arm where it had been grabbed today.

I obviously didn’t hide my reaction well enough, however.

Etienne carefully pulled me onto his lap.

“Okay, spill. What happened?”

“Nothing,” I insisted, knowing I was sounding less and less convincing.

But the hot ache in my arm—and the memory of those voices, wouldn’t let me forget.

He watched me over the rim of his glass. “Well, something is on your mind. You’ve been very quiet tonight. Usually by now you would have rehashed the whole day in blow-by-blow details.”

I laughed, but it came out weak. “Did I ever tell you I hate being predictable?”

He set his glass down and his free hand trailed slow circles on my thigh. “You are never predictable, chérie. But you are…distracted. Since the bayou.”

It was a good subtle opening. He waited for me to fill it.

I took a deep breath and looked out into the dark. “Something did grab me,” I said. “Not an animal. Not a person. I’m not sure what. But it felt—wrong.” The actual word that came to mind was “evil,” but I couldn’t bring myself to be that dramatic.

Still, Etienne went still. “Why didn’t you tell me before?”

I shrugged, staring into my tea. “Because the kids were right there, and I didn’t want to freak them out. And you were so…happy, you know? I thought maybe I imagined it, or it was just some bayou spirit playing games. Or maybe I’m just losing it already, from the hormones.”

He lifted my chin with one finger until I looked at him. “You are not losing it. You are the bravest person I know. But if something is out there, you must tell me. I would have chased it down?—”

“I know.” I pressed my lips together. “Which is exactly why I didn’t want to tell you. I coouldn’t ruin the day. And I was okay.” I hoped I was okay. I still felt so strange.

He sighed, not angry, just concerned. “I understand. But next time, even if you think it is nothing, tell me. Please. I do not like that you were alone with that.”

I nodded, fighting the burn in my eyes. “I promise.”

He wrapped me tighter in his arms, rocking us both. “Tell me everything,” he says. “How did it feel? Where did it come from?”

I walked him through everything I remembered: the pressure, the cold, the voices arguing, the single word—“prenze”—that stuck in my head. I tried to imitate the sound, the cadence, but it felt silly out loud.

He listened, thoughtful, then says, “I don’t know the word.

It is not from any tongue I have heard. But maybe one of the Guard would know.

The know many of the creatures in the bayou.

Or maybe someone in your family might know.

Could it be a magic word?” He kisses my forehead. “Tomorrow, we will find out.”

I leaned into him, letting the porch and the night settle around us. “Why would if focus on me? I feel like whenever anything strange happens, it’s because of me.”

“You are powerful, Mally.” He said it so simply, so matter-of-factly, that I almost believe it. “That’s why you are a focus of those who want power. But our family working together is even more powerful. Untouchable.”

The words settle in my bones, and I wanted to believe that.

We cuddled like that a long time, sharing the silence and the peace.

Finally, Etienne says, “We should sleep. Tomorrow will be busy.”

Tomorrow was going to be very busy. All our families would be here and we’d share our wonderful news—if my mother hadn’t already spilled the beans.

She might not want to be called, “Granny,” but she couldn’t want to be a grandmother.

I finished my tea and follow him inside, feeling a little calmer.

Etienne had that ability. To convince me everything would be fine.

Whatever’s coming, we’ll face it together.

I just hope it’s enough.