Page 4 of 12 Months of Mayhem

“Um, yeah, sure,” I muttered, having zero intent to ever call her. I shoved the paper in my pocket and got in the first available line. Anson and I quickly paid for our items and then left the store.

When I got home, Anson hopped up on the couch next to Dallas and started watching the hockey game. “That’s Uncle Dallas’s little hockey boy. We should see if we can find you somewhere to take some lessons.”

“I wanna pway hockey!” Anson excitedly announced as he jumped up and down on his knees.

“Anson, no jumping on the couch,” I corrected before I rolled my eyes at my brother. “This is New Orleans, D. I don’t think we have a lot of options for hockey here.”

“Where there’s a will, there’s a way,” Dexter chimed in.

I shook my head and started dinner. Hockey in New Orleans… they were both nuts.

While the pasta was baking in the oven, I took the trash out. As I was returning inside, a chill skated over my skin. I paused and glanced around. Darkness was already settling in, and the neighborhood seemed unnaturally quiet. Yet, it was as if the night itself breathed around me.

Cautiously, I walked the perimeter of the house. Nothing seemed amiss, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was being watched. The front door opened, and Dallas stepped out.

“Oven timer is going off. Want me to pull it out?”

I glanced his way, and he tilted his head with a narrowed gaze before he scanned the area. He sniffed the air, and a low rumble sounded as ripples of power seemed to emanate from his direction.

So it wasn’t just me.

He stepped back into the deep shadows of the porch, where he all but disappeared. Then there was a faint rustle, and a massive dog-like creature leaped over the short white fence around the small front yard.

His golden eyes met mine, and he slunk off into the night.

I quickly returned inside. Dexter’s attention shot to me. As Anson’s attention was locked on the game he likely didn’t understand but was nonetheless enraptured with, I motioned for him to follow me to the kitchen.

“Where’s Crypt?” he softly asked while I pulled dinner from the oven.

“Something is… odd outside. I noticed it when I took out the trash. He’s on the prowl because he picked up on it when he came out to tell me the timer was going off.”

“Do I need to contact Killswitch or Boom?” he asked.

“Not yet. It might be nothing.”

He nodded.

The back door opened, and Dallas came in, buttoning up his shirt. “I never saw anything, but I could smell it.”

“Smell it?” I asked. Finding out my brother was a Rougarou had been like something out of a movie. It was still mind-blowing that the thing of Louisiana legends was not only real but related to me. Though the fact that I had visions should’ve made it less surprising, it had taken some getting used to.

“Yeah. I don’t know what it was, but it wasn’t human. Could’ve been something in the area or passing through, but if that was the case, why did it go out of its way to disguise whatever it was?” Dallas questioned. His frown deepened.

“You think it was here for us or for Dalton?” Dexter asked.

“I’m not sure,” Dallas admitted.

Dexter pulled out his phone, and I watched as his thumbs flew over the screen. “I let Boom and Killswitch in on the situation. Just in case. Killswitch said for us all to keep our heads on a swivel.”

“I’m going to message Ryian and tell her to call me when she’s on her way. I’m going to get her to stay the night here. I don’t like the idea of her and Anson driving home late when something is out there that’s obviously up to no good,” I muttered before sending the message to Ryian. I didn’t tell her what was going on because she was having a hard enough time accepting the “gift” that Anson had inherited from me. I didn’t want to add to it and have her think I was nuts or have her freak out and not want Anson to be around me.

Then I sent a message to Ralph asking him to check on Amy so that would be one less worry Ryian would have.

Hopefully, whatever Dallas and I had picked up on tonight was nothing.

But I wasn’t taking chances with Ryian or my son—not when I’d just gotten them back.

Chapter Two

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