Location: Louisiana – the land of bayous, alligators, and the mysterious loup-garou (the French werewolf).

A small ray of light slipped through the sliding glass doors and onto the patio.  He hugged the house wall as he inched toward the beam of light, stopping at the edge of darkness. He couldn’t step into the light. That would be too dangerous for him. If either the man or woman happened to wake up and glance outside, they might see him, they might even recognize him. Then they both would have to die. He didn’t want anyone else to die, especially the woman, especially this woman whom he’d known all her life.

Why had she come back? Why must she ask so many damn questions? Why does she go traipsing through the Caddo searching for answers that could bring her a fate similar to the redheaded woman in Texas? The pictures of her handless body besieged his mind and roiled his stomach more than the memories of the other dead. He hated dealing with the bodies, hated the killing, but what choice did he have now? It was no longer a question of feeding the demon inside him. Now, it was a matter of his survival.

He reached for the handle of the patio door, but stopped. In all probability, he’d find this door locked just like the others. Besides, there was still time for her to escape, to leave the Caddo and go back to Chicago. She’d be safe there; she’d be out of his reach.

“Go home, girl,” he whispered to himself. “Go home before I have to bury you too.” He crept back along the side of the house, making sure to stay in the shadows. An owl watching from the cover of a Magnolia tree screeched and a howl cut the night air as he ran back into the inky mist rising out of the bowels of  Caddo Lake.

Deborah Epperson

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