Read Online Blood on the Bayou by Stacey Jay - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Stacey Jay
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killing the Fey are deadly to everything else—humans, animals, even plants and trees. The Fey are crazy hard to kill, damned near indestructible.
But maybe they’re not. And maybe they know it.
And maybe they’re willing to risk revealing their true intelligence in the name of eliminating a person who could maybe—just maybe—take care of the Delta’s fairy problem once and for all.
Holy crapping shit crap.
Could I? Could I really? The fairies by the truck looked dead when they fell, but even if they weren’t, they were definitely incapacitated. I could have gathered them up in an iron box while they were passed out. I could go out into the bayou and keep stunningand gathering until they’re gone. All of them. Until every adult is captured or killed and every egg sac collected. Until, someday, it might finally be safe for people to walk outside the iron gates again.
Hope hits me in the gut, so fierce it’s painful.
We’ve all spent so many years thinking there’s no going back, that we have to live with the constant undercurrent of terror because there’s nothing that can be done. But maybe there is, maybe—
“Stop the truck!” An amplified voice shouts. I look up to see a man with a megaphone. And a mean-looking rifle. “I’ll shoot!”
I’m so wrapped up in my thoughts that—by the time I spot him—I’m almost on top of him. I slam on the brakes, but I don’t know if it’s going to make a difference. He might still decide to shoot me. I can read the temptation in the twitchy eye peering down the barrel of his gun.
Jin-Sang, my boss at FCC headquarters in Baton Rogue, is a douche canoe. He’s also a religious fanatic, a control freak, a tight-ass teetotaler, suffers from a severe case of OCD, a superiority complex, and misuses the English language in a fashion that should be criminal in someone who thinks he’s so much better than everyone else.
In addition to his many faults, he’s also responsible for my monthlong suspension from work, despite the fact that Stephanie—Hitch’s fiancée and the FBI agent in charge of my review—recommended I be reinstated with a warning.
To put it mildly, Jin-Sang and I are not best buddies. In fact, I think I could come to hate Jin-Sang if I had the energy to walk around hating people I don’t see every day. So to say that I’m surprised to hear him reaming the dock agent who held the gun on me via speakerphone is an understatement.
“This is unacceptable! Agent Lee is a valuable association of our team. Disrespect her further, and there will be the supreme high price for your payment. Supreme!” There’s enough heat in his tone to make the agent slumping behind the desk flinch.
A little.
Ferret Face, as I’ve dubbed him—because his pointy nose, rodent teeth, and shaggy brown hair are ferretlike, and because he didn’t bother telling me his name before shoving me through an oversized garage and into his second-floor office with the business end of his rifle—isn’t super responsive to stimuli. Judging from the glassy eyes and slightly slurred speech when he demanded I call my boss and prove I’m FCC, I’m guessing he’s stoned.
Which is really comforting in someone who’s pointing a gun at your forehead.
“He’s still got the gun, Jin-Sang.” I try to sound as bored as Ferret Face looks. I’ve met his type before. With a man like him, apathy is power.
“Down your weapon quick time! Super quick time!” Jin-Sang’s English is deteriorating rapidly. It’s as if he actually cares whether or not I get killed.
Aw.
“Don’t bust a nut.” Ferret Face tips back in his chair,summoning a groan from the springs as he leans the rifle against the bookcases behind him. “Sorry.”
His expression couldn’t be more flagrantly unapologetic. So much for finding a desperate, horny man willing to spill secrets in hopes of scoring with the first woman he’s seen in weeks. I’ll just have to hope the other guy shows up soon, and is in
But maybe they’re not. And maybe they know it.
And maybe they’re willing to risk revealing their true intelligence in the name of eliminating a person who could maybe—just maybe—take care of the Delta’s fairy problem once and for all.
Holy crapping shit crap.
Could I? Could I really? The fairies by the truck looked dead when they fell, but even if they weren’t, they were definitely incapacitated. I could have gathered them up in an iron box while they were passed out. I could go out into the bayou and keep stunningand gathering until they’re gone. All of them. Until every adult is captured or killed and every egg sac collected. Until, someday, it might finally be safe for people to walk outside the iron gates again.
Hope hits me in the gut, so fierce it’s painful.
We’ve all spent so many years thinking there’s no going back, that we have to live with the constant undercurrent of terror because there’s nothing that can be done. But maybe there is, maybe—
“Stop the truck!” An amplified voice shouts. I look up to see a man with a megaphone. And a mean-looking rifle. “I’ll shoot!”
I’m so wrapped up in my thoughts that—by the time I spot him—I’m almost on top of him. I slam on the brakes, but I don’t know if it’s going to make a difference. He might still decide to shoot me. I can read the temptation in the twitchy eye peering down the barrel of his gun.
Jin-Sang, my boss at FCC headquarters in Baton Rogue, is a douche canoe. He’s also a religious fanatic, a control freak, a tight-ass teetotaler, suffers from a severe case of OCD, a superiority complex, and misuses the English language in a fashion that should be criminal in someone who thinks he’s so much better than everyone else.
In addition to his many faults, he’s also responsible for my monthlong suspension from work, despite the fact that Stephanie—Hitch’s fiancée and the FBI agent in charge of my review—recommended I be reinstated with a warning.
To put it mildly, Jin-Sang and I are not best buddies. In fact, I think I could come to hate Jin-Sang if I had the energy to walk around hating people I don’t see every day. So to say that I’m surprised to hear him reaming the dock agent who held the gun on me via speakerphone is an understatement.
“This is unacceptable! Agent Lee is a valuable association of our team. Disrespect her further, and there will be the supreme high price for your payment. Supreme!” There’s enough heat in his tone to make the agent slumping behind the desk flinch.
A little.
Ferret Face, as I’ve dubbed him—because his pointy nose, rodent teeth, and shaggy brown hair are ferretlike, and because he didn’t bother telling me his name before shoving me through an oversized garage and into his second-floor office with the business end of his rifle—isn’t super responsive to stimuli. Judging from the glassy eyes and slightly slurred speech when he demanded I call my boss and prove I’m FCC, I’m guessing he’s stoned.
Which is really comforting in someone who’s pointing a gun at your forehead.
“He’s still got the gun, Jin-Sang.” I try to sound as bored as Ferret Face looks. I’ve met his type before. With a man like him, apathy is power.
“Down your weapon quick time! Super quick time!” Jin-Sang’s English is deteriorating rapidly. It’s as if he actually cares whether or not I get killed.
Aw.
“Don’t bust a nut.” Ferret Face tips back in his chair,summoning a groan from the springs as he leans the rifle against the bookcases behind him. “Sorry.”
His expression couldn’t be more flagrantly unapologetic. So much for finding a desperate, horny man willing to spill secrets in hopes of scoring with the first woman he’s seen in weeks. I’ll just have to hope the other guy shows up soon, and is in
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