Page 6 of Property of Crypt Keeper

“Oh, I see him,” I answered.

Mako’s jaw flexed. He didn’t like mysteries. Especially not when they lived in our house.

None of us did.

I zipped up my cut and headed out into the humid evening.

The air hit me heavily the second I stepped outside—warm, wet, full of cypress and mud and the slow breath of the swamp itself. The sky was cloudy, but every so often, the moon still found ways to press through, pale and insistent.

My bike sat where I’d left it, black metal gleaming under the security lights. I swung a leg over and started it.

The engine’s roar vibrated in my bones, drowning out the voices in my head for the moment.

Good.

I was thankful for it, because I needed the noise.

Slowly, I rolled out past the gate, past the fence line that we’d hastily reinforced after our little visit, and onto the road that led away from the clubhouse and into the dark.

Louisiana swallowed you quickly if you let it.

The lights of the compound faded behind me. The road narrowed. Trees leaned in as if they were listening to whispers no one else heard. Spanish moss hung in curtains, swaying like ghosts.

The wolf within eased as the familiar territory wrapped around us. This was mine. This was where the curse felt less like a cage and more like a skin I could live in. My wolf was clawing to get out and stretch its legs.

Soon, my friend, soon.

I turned off onto a gravel path that led deeper into the bayou, tires spitting stones. The air grew thicker, richer—decay and life tangled together.

But beneath it, something else.

A scent that didn’t belong.

I slowed. Let my senses stretch.

What the fuck is that? Not vampire. Not a shifter. Not a witch.

Older.

My grip tightened on the handlebars as my eyes narrowed into the dark. The hair on my arms and the back of my neck lifted like little warning flags. My wolf stirred, ears pricking, attention sharpening.

Someone had been there. Not long ago.

I cut the engine and let silence drop like a curtain.

No crickets. No frogs.

Like the swamp, I stayed still, listening to my own heartbeat, to the distant slosh of water, to the whisper of moss hanging heavy from the tree branches.

Then—barely—a shift in the tree line. Not a movement made by an animal. Nope, this was something different.

My lips curled, not quite a smile.

“Come on then,” I murmured to the dark, voice low and calm. This was exactly what I needed. A way to burn off this nervous energy. “Show yourself.”

Nothing answered. But I could feel it. Eyes in the shadows… watching.

It was so heavy, I could practically smell it—old hatred, just waiting.