Fugue Macabre: Bone Dance Read online

  Fugue Macabre: Bone Dance

  SAPPHIRE BLUE BOOKS are published by:

  Sapphire Blue Publishing, LLC

  P.O. Box 42255

  Phoenix, AZ 85080-2255

  Copyright © 2009 C. J. Parker

  Publisher’s Edition Copyright © 2009 Sapphire Blue Publishing

  Cover Art by Kendra Egert

  All rights reserved. eBooks are not transferable and cannot be given away, sold or shared. No portion of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including photocopying, faxing, forwarded by email, recording or by any information retrieval and storage system without permission of the publisher, except where permitted by law, as this is an infringement on the copyright of this work. Brief quotations within reviews or articles are acceptable.

  Sapphire Blue Fairy Logo © 2009 Sapphire Blue Publishing, LLC

  ISBN 978-1-934657-25-6

  Publisher’s Note. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to a person or persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is purely coincidental.

  First Sapphire Blue Publishing, LLC electronic publication: September 2009

  Visit Sapphire Blue Publishing on the World Wide Web at http://www.sapphirebluepublishing.com

  Other Sapphire Blue titles

  By C. J. Parker:

  Fugue Macabre: Ghost Dance

  Fugue Macabre:

  Bone Dance

  By C. J. Parker

  SAPPHIRE BLUE PUBLISHING

  http://www.sapphirebluepublishing.com

  Dedication:

  To Courtney Torres who inspired Lexie. I love ya, kid.

  Acknowledgements:

  This book would never have been written if Sher Hames Torres had not pestered the hell out of me to PBIC. Nor would it have been finished if my long-suffering husband hadn't had the patience to put up with me slipping into my dream world for hours at a time. And, it would never have seen the light of day if Maria Clayton, my editor, hadn't believed in me. Why? I'm still trying to figure that one out.

  Thank you. Each of you mean more to me than you'll ever know.

  Chapter One

  With the precision of a sharply honed blade, and with each stroke of the paddles, the pirogue style boat sliced through the murky Louisiana bayou waters, sending ripples outward until they met the soggy banks. The hush of the swamp surrounded shapeshifter, Bobbie Luckman, with a peaceful lull, belying the dangers that lay inside its thick tree-lined canopy.

  To the untrained ear, the silence was complete, but she easily discerned sounds only someone raised in the bayou would notice, the rustle of leaves being disturbed by footsteps and the creak of a limb being pushed aside.

  At the age of four, on a day much like this one, her father had taken Bobbie fishing nearby. Like today, a breeze had streaked the gulf with white caps, filling the air with the scent of fresh oysters. She could almost taste their cool saltiness on her tongue.

  The existence of shapeshifters was to be hidden from humans at all costs. Her clan had become a hodgepodge of stray shifters, from cats to birds, from snakes to wolves. They had grown to be accepting of one another and their differences, but an Outsider was a whole other matter. She hoped once her clansmen understood that Rhonda and Tabatha were as different from the Outsiders as the shifters were, they would accept her friends into their fold. If they didn’t, she’d led them to their deaths.

  Her need to have them with her grew stronger. Having been gone from home so long, and living with the humans so closely, Bobbie no longer knew if she would fit in and needed Tabatha’s quiet strength and Rhonda’s sometimes annoying innocence. They would win but only together. If nothing else, the last few months had taught her that. As friends, they had been faced with a serial killer, confronted a group of fanatics wanting to kill anyone different, killed a hit man before he could kill them and, in the process, solved a twenty-year-old murder case. Oh, and they’d had their house burned down around them.

  About the time they thought they could relax, Bobbie was summoned to return home to find a killer who’d been murdering her clansmen.

  Home.

  Tabatha sat at the bow of the boat, her grandfather’s journal lying open in her lap. Her silver-blond hair fluttered in the breeze, and her brow furrowed above cool blue eyes that held what seemed to be a hint of sadness.

  Bobbie glanced behind her at Rhonda. Staring into the distance toward shore, Rhonda’s expression was a mixture of awe and trepidation. Her hair fluttered in the breeze sending long tendrils of red curls whipping about her face. She raked one nail tip over another, chipping away at the half-gone nail polish as her gaze snapped from one area of woodland to another. Rhonda’s cheeks reddened and her lids lowered to hide her tawny colored eyes when she noticed Bobbie’s perusal. Bobbie released a heavy sigh at Rhonda’s timid personality. Bobbie feared for her safety among the rough shifters of the Moran Clan.

  Bobbie placed the oars beside her. The boat drifted by a stand of reeds where she noticed the shadowed outline of a slightly built female hiding in the tall grass. Bobbie’s nerves stood on end as she readied herself for what may come. Was this a lookout for those who may be waiting to attack? Or simply someone sent to find out who entered the clan’s protected area? “Who’s there? Show yourself.”

  A slender girl in her mid-teens sprang up from behind the tall reeds, laughed and ran toward the tree line behind her. Graceful and willowy, her golden blond hair was cut short and spiked in the back. Buck-naked except for a cache of gold jewelry around her neck, in mid-stride she shifted into a spotted snow leopard. With a feline hiss, the girl ran up a tree, sat on the highest limb, bared her sharp teeth in a comical Cheshire cat sneer and flipped her tail at them.

  Tabatha grinned before returning her attention back to the journal she’d been reading earlier. Shifting wasn’t something new to Tabatha or Rhonda, as they had seen Bobbie shift several times already. Tabatha raised her brow. “Someone you know?”

  “Who was that?” Rhonda’s eyes were filled with curiosity.

  “I don’t know, but I’m sure we’ll find out.” Bobbie took a deep breath, releasing it slowly.

  This could be nothing or just the beginning. The restlessness in her stomach turned into gut wrenching dread. If the clan didn’t accept her back and approve of her friends, then all hell would break lose. And, they’d just been through hell and back.

  She rested the oar in its bracket and ran splayed fingers through her windblown hair. “There’ll be a clan meeting tonight. I’m sure I’ll get reacquainted with everyone. You’re going to be shunned ’til I can convince them you’re not the basic run-of-the-mill humans and therefore beneath them.” And not worthy to breathe the same air they do, decide your hair would make a great wall hanging, your toenails wonderful ornaments hanging around their necks. Oh, stop it, Bobbie, they’re your friends and have your protection.

  A lot of good that will do them if you’re not accepted back, an all-knowing voice said in the back of her mind.

  When Rhonda and Tabatha’s expressions remained stoic and calm, she continued. “Our term for human is Karepey. It’s a combination of Creole and the Geechee language, meaning ‘folk of little value.’ And most shifters consider themselves the superior creatures of the world.”

  Tabatha’s eyebrow rose. “Superior in what way?”

  “We’ve been around nearly since the beginning of time. We’ve been chased down and killed to near extinction, been used as the boogieman in stories told to make children behave, romanticized and villainized in novels since man learned to write. Wolves were hunted to extinction in some areas
because someone thought they were werewolves. We’ve not only survived but also flourished. I guess they think after all we’ve been through and we’re still here, we are the better at survival. Some of the things of lore are true about us, others not so correct. One thing is sure; we outlive you by many years. We can live in conditions in which humans would parish. But this is a talk for another time.”

  Bobbie kicked off her tennis shoes when the pirogue’s bow met the shoreline with a muddy slurp. “Wait until I pull you to solid ground before getting out. Swamp mud can be treacherous. See that gator?” She pointed toward the creature with its eyes and snout barely above the water line watching them twenty feet away. “He’s waiting for one of us to slip and fall.”

  Rhonda’s throat convulsed as she swallowed hard. “That thing looks like a log.” She and Tabatha sat in the boat watching as the alligator sank under the water, leaving no hit he was ever there.

  “To him, you look like dinner.”

  “I’ve always wanted to try fried alligator tail.” Tabatha smiled, but kept a cautious eye on the water’s surface.

  Dust and dried leaves flew across the shoreline as an oversized raven descended from the sky, shifting from a massive ebony body of feathers to sun-bronzed skin moments before he landed behind Bobbie. She turned to see the nude glory of her childhood friend, Kangee.

  Bobbie’s gaze skimmed the taut skin covering his pectorals and rippled stomach to the vee between his legs and his impressive…Whoa. Very impressive indeed. When did that happen?

  A fleeting memory of roughhousing in the bayou with a much younger Kangee flitted across her thoughts, clothing nothing more than a nuisance, their nudity unimportant to them. Now a grown man—in all aspects of the word—stood before her. She forced her eyes to meet his. Bobbie realized how much she’d missed Kangee. His childish pranks, silly jokes, but most of all she missed his touch. She refused to let her feelings show, knowing he could walk away or worse let her know in no uncertain terms that she was nothing more than a distant memory.

  She shook her head to clear away the useless thoughts. They were here to find out who was killing her people. She was here to take her rightful place as Queen Moran.

  He grasped the edge of the boat and tugged hard, nearly tossing Rhonda and Tabatha into the water.

  Bobbie, grateful for the distraction, clenched her fist and hit him in the chest. “Behave, Captain Kangaroo, or I’ll pluck your tail feathers and make earrings out of them.”

  He bowed, his chocolate-brown gaze never leaving hers. “As you wish, Madam Luckman.” His voice flowed over her like warm silk.

  “And stop calling me Captain Kangaroo.” He lowered his voice to a rumbling growl.

  “Then, cut the crap. I’m in no mood for it.” Bobbie closed her eyes and counted backward from ten to one. The last thing she’d planned to do was snap at Kangee. There were so many things she wanted to say to him, but not this and not now. Besides, getting angry with Kangee would only lead to an argument and Lord knows that would take more time than she could spare. “I suppose you’ve told everyone we have company. Did you by any chance tell them they’re—”

  “I told them nothing.” His dark eyes were as angry as his tone. “The lookouts reported when you came into sight. They aren’t exactly planning a party in honor of your return.” He paused then leaned down to stare directly into her eyes. “And neither am I.”

  Shocked at Kangee’s anger, Bobbie waved him away for now, but when she had a chance to get him alone... “I’m going home. I’m tired. My friends and I have been through hell.” And your anger is breaking my heart, Kangee.

  She tossed their backpacks out of the boat onto a mound next to a stand of weeds. Bobbie’s disappointment built as she tried to compartmentalize her emotions. She kicked a piece of driftwood across the shore to the tree line trying to send some of her frustration flying with it.

  “While the rest of you sat on your butts and complained that I wasn’t protecting you, we’ve been dealing with the troublemakers. They sent a damned hit man after us—we killed him. Rhonda dug up enough evidence to bring down their little club and put them away for a very long time. Tabatha’s fiancé is working on that. What have you been doing, fly boy?”

  Kangee’s eyebrow lifted to an impossibly high arch. “The Tree Lady requested I escort you home, but I believe you can find your way.” He did an about-face, took four long strides and shifted before flinging himself into the air to vanish above the tree canopy.

  Tabatha shook her head and stepped out of the boat. “Hell’s blazes. I’ll never get used to seeing people shift like that. He makes it look so natural, so beautiful.”

  “To us it is natural. Just as you were born to raise the dead and Rhonda to start a fire with a mere thought, we can shift. Neat tricks all, don’t ya think?” She smiled, though she wanted to scream with frustration. Bobbie had a feeling the war of words was just beginning.

  “You were awful to him.” Rhonda lowered her chin slightly and snickered, while her cheeks reddened. “And he’s so cute. What a body.”

  Yes, what a body. Bobbie snorted. “I didn’t notice. Besides, if I were nice to him, he’d think I was up to no good. Come on.” She grabbed the backpacks and tossed Rhonda’s and Tabatha’s to them. She glanced up at the sun and estimated the time to be around three in the afternoon. Best guess, they’d been gone from New Orleans for nearly four hours. “I’m ready for something soft to lie on and a lot of anything cold to drink.”

  She’d taken no more than ten steps when Bobbie stopped quickly in front of a cypress with Kangee Loves Bobbie etched into its bark. The image of his sixteen-year-old self, working diligently to carve their names into the wood both warmed and saddened Bobbie. “Damn.”

  “What?” Rhonda jumped behind Tabatha and glanced around them, wide eyed. “What’s wrong?”

  Bobbie swallowed hard. “When I left, this tree was nearly half a mile from shore. It can’t be more than thirty feet now.”

  “So?”

  Tabatha drew her backpack over her other arm and adjusted it on her shoulders. “In a normal year, Louisiana loses twenty to twenty-five square miles of coastline. I read that over seventy-nine square miles were lost during Hurricane Katrina.”

  “For heaven’s sake, Bobbie, you scared me.” Rhonda huffed. “I thought something was after us.”

  “I’d think what Tab said would scare you more.” With one last glance back at the cat sitting in the tree watching them, Bobbie led them farther into the swamps.

  The branches of the woodland spread over their heads in a broken canopy of varying shades of green from the leaves of the massive oaks, sweet gums, and pines allowing dappled sunlight along the pathway. Spanish moss hung above them like crocheted ecru ornaments. Birds’ trills drifted from one limb to another and snapping twigs could be heard as the swamp occupants edged closer in curiosity. An occasional deer crossed their path and numerous opossums, raccoons, and armadillos peeked out from shadows.

  Bobbie lifted her nose into the breeze, drawing in the scents of the forest, composting leaves, pine needles, the dry earthy scent of cedar bark and damp soil. It smelled of home, family and memories. “I swore when I left this place, I’d never come back. But, I’ve missed it. It’s feeding me like…” She heard the emotion in her own voice and glanced back at her friends. “Sorry.”

  Tabatha gazed at her surroundings. “I understand. It’s like a wound has been healed, a hunger satisfied.”

  Rhonda sat on a worm-eaten sweet gum trunk lying across their path. “I’m not going any farther until you tell us what we’re walking into.”

  She crossed her arms and lifted her chin. “You say Tabatha and I aren’t going to be welcome here. Well, your cute friend and the little cat girl don’t seem too happy to see you back here either. I think we should know the rest. Why do you think this place will be any safer than New Orleans? And who are these people you say are waiting for you?”

  Bobbie turned, understanding Rhonda’s
impatience. If the circumstances were turned, Bobbie would have balked before now. “You still don’t get it, do you?” As much as they’d been through together, the death and destruction the Guardians had put in their path, Rhonda still didn’t see the whole picture.

  An errant tear escaped Rhonda’s eye, and she brushed it away with the back of her hand. “Oh, I understand the Guardians want us dead, and we ain’t done nothing to them, except exist. But these are your people, aren’t they?”

  “I know you’re scared. Hell, Tabatha and I are, too. And I know I’m adding to your fears by dragging you through the muck to a strange place. But you did insist on coming.” Bobbie placed her fingertips under Rhonda’s chin and lifted her face. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you. I’m their queen and you know how thrilled I am with that. They can disagree with me, but they have to follow the ancient rules. Number four reads, No harm will come to anyone under the protection of the ruling Moran.” She placed her index finger on the center of her chest. “That’s me. As long as I’m alive, you’re safe.”

  “Then we’d better keep you alive.” Tabatha smiled. “I’m ready if you are.”

  Rhonda nodded. “How much farther?”

  “Not far at all. If you spit toward the west, you’d wet a rooftop.”

  Rhonda wrinkled her nose. “Okay, well, that’s just gross.”

  An unnatural silence beset the small clearing. The trees trembled and leaves fell from their branches in a blizzard-like fury.

  Bobbie tensed and pulled her knife from the waistband of her jeans. She could sense the intruders’ wariness and smell the sulfur odor of their fear. Gooseflesh ran up her arms.

  Tabatha quickly dumped the items from the side pocket of her backpack onto the ground before grasping a vial. Bobbie waited. She didn’t have to ask what Tabatha was doing. She was about to conjure up another of her grandfather’s spells to protect them. “What’s in those things?”

  “They’re filled with salt, sage, and the ashes of an ancient oak.” Tabatha’s hands were a flurry of motion in the dirt as she enclosed herself, Bobbie and Rhonda in a circle of the white and gray mixture before forming four symbols, a six-point star facing north, a blazing fire toward the south, a quarter moon for the west and the sun with an overlying quarter moon for the east. Mumbling a chant, she tossed the remaining mixture in an arc above their heads.