Page 31 of Trusted Instinct
Deep brought Gator onto his team.
And this year, Gator and Deep both stood up for Creed when he threw his name in the ring to get one of the coveted spots on Cerberus Team Charlie.
What did Gator know about that day that made him send the vests to the women?
Creed made his way over to Gator, framing their conversation as a fact-finding mission. He simply wanted to know how Gator saw today’s events spinning out, rather than an intrusion into Auralia’s capabilities as a reporter. “Hey,” he lifted his chin to catch Gator’s attention. “I wanted to talk to you about your gifts for Auralia and Doli. You picking up something different from me?”
“What have you got?” Gator asked.
Creed looked off at the distant sky that looked like it might be juicing up for a fight. There was a storm on the radar up in the mountains, and it was supposed to reach the dell well after today’s event.
“I woke up smelling smoke,” Creed recalled. “Last night, my dreams were about a whole lot of banging around, metal on metal – more like pots and pans and less about ammunition.”
“Tell me about the smoke. Do you remember the smell? Was it gun smoke?” Gator asked.
“Acrid. I’d say that in my half-sleep, I was thinking about a big old bonfire back home.” Creed looked over Gator’s shoulder and scanned the tree line. He had Gator’s six; it was a habit of war that he didn’t feel a need to change. “The vests?”
“Hard to say. I feel like Auralia and Doli need something protective around them, like I want to wrap a big ol’ mattress around them, but that don’t make no darn sense. I wanted to askmy friend Lynx, but she weren’t around. I may try and reach out to her again if we get a lull.”
Creed had heard tales of Lynx since back when Gator first got going with Strike Force. She had started out under their protection after an attack that left her as the only survivor of a serial killer. She’d seen the man, and since she was the only witness, the FBI had gone the extra mile to keep her safe.
Then other stories sifted into their conversations, about how she could snatch ideas from the ether and solve crimes and mysteries, grabbing the answers as if out of thin air.
But the tale that Gator told Creed one dark night camping in the back woods, just the two of them like old times, was the tale of how he met his now-wife D-Day and how Lynx had saved them from half a world away because she could link up to Gator and wear him like a coat.
Now, the linking-up thing, Creed had only heard about when the veil between the worlds was thin—Halloween and new moons, when hoodoo magic was incanted and floated like incense through the air.
Creed believed in psychic connections. His mamma seemed like she’d had some part of herself tethered to her children and knew what they were up to even when she had to leave the house to go to the laundromat or run errands.
And Creed seemed to have some kind of connection with Auralia, like when he reached for his phone to call her, and it rang with her on the line. Or when Auralia was thinking about pizza all day, and he got a craving and decided to pick one up. It was the “I love you, we’re on the same wavelength” kind of connection.
Did he want more?
Maybe. Sometimes. Much of the time, it would be problematic. They both had hazardous jobs; living in someoneelse's emotional sensory space could be distracting and dangerous.
Creed would take what he could get, especially when it came to keeping loved ones safe from harm.
He was, for sure, picking up something now, a low hum just over the horizon.
With the ether, at times, he knew as clearly as Rougarou did when someone had come strapped.
And sometimes it was as muddy as the Mississippi, where the crawdads burrowed deep.
Creed looked down and told Rou, “All I know is that you and me need to be ready for damned near anything to happen today.”
Chapter Eight
Auralia
The crowd was pouring in.
Mountain Smokey Pig was set up to feed the masses, and a bluegrass band had people's toes tapping as they found their spots and spread their blankets.
In these parts, entertainment could be hard to come by outside of church on Sunday.
And people liked their free food.
Auralia wondered if it was Morrison who was footing the bill, pulling people in to hear his plea, perhaps to garner some good press and build civic support as he headed into jury selection the following week.
