Page 7 of Lovely Darkness

“Got it,” I say. “We’re not going in the woods.”

“Well.” Doc drops his cigarette onto the concrete floor, stubs it out with his pointy boot tip, then picks it up and holds it between two pinched fingers. “See ya in the mornin’ then. I think it’ll be a big day so don’t stay out too late.”

Then he turns and heads back towards the mansion. But he doesn’t go up the porch steps. He walks along the length of the breezeway windows and disappears around a corner.

“I have always liked him,” Wendy says. “He and Chek were good friends.”

Chek’s name snaps me back to the whole reason we’re out here in the middle of the night in the first place. “Let’s walk. You wanna take a walk, Wendy?”

“Not in the woods though, right? There really are things in there.”

“No.” I smile at her. “How about up the driveway? It’s nice and long. And everyone knows that the driveway is a safe zone when you’re surrounded by woods filled with monsters.”

She almost laughs. And she does smile. “Right. Safe zone. That’s a nice thought.”

We hold hands as we take our stroll up the long, winding Old Home driveway. And it really does feel safe even though there are all kinds of unsettling noises coming from the woods on either side.

“It’s nothing like the woods in Kentucky,” Wendy says, picking up on my thoughts. “We have bears, of course. And foxes and shit. But these woods have gators and panthers.”

“Just like Florida,” I say.

“Not really. Maybe I haven’t spent a whole lot of time here, but don’t you get the feeling that Louisiana is nothing like Florida?”

I can’t say I disagree. Florida—most of it, anyway—is further south than Louisiana. It’s hotter, more tropical, and almost as swampy. But Wendy’s right. There’s something wrong with Louisiana and everyone knows it. There is a reason that writers who tell tales of vampires and voodoo set their stories here. The whole fucking state is just… spooky. The air is too thick. Too much moss on all those trees and not enough cities. And, of course, there’s the bayou.

There’s still a lot of swamp in Florida. Not as much as there used to be. Not after the Company drained it all so they could build new towns and cities to control. But the Everglades is a tourist attraction. It’s got just as many gators as any other Southern state, but it’s not suffocating the way the bayou is.

Shit happens here. Secret shit. Dark shit. Evil shit.

Company shit.

And sure, there’s darkness and evil everywhere. There is no escape from the Company on this earth. Not even after we took most of them out. I know that better than anyone. But Louisiana has her own set of secrets and she wants to keep those secrets to herself very badly.

“Well. You wanna talk?”

I look down at Wendy and smile. “Yeah. Let’s talk. Tell me about this weird feeling.”

She doesn’t hesitate, and that’s a good sign. “I dunno. It’s like… something’s watching me.”

“A person?”

“No. The swamp, maybe. The woods. I’ve been here before, but not to the house. When we were kids, Indie and I, we worked together. I liked working with her. And then, of course, when that Cabal Island shit was going down, I helped get Angelica out.”

Funny. Wendy and I have never talked about Angelica. She was on the kill list and then, at the last minute, Santos decided that she wasn’t. Wendy brought her to me and I took her to that hotel room in Wyoming.

“I know you say I wasn’t on the list—”

“You weren’t.”

“I know you say that. But why? I should’ve been on that list and everyone knows it.”

We have just about reached the end of the driveway. The massive iron gate is closed now. And even though there is a walking gate if one wanted to leave, even from here I can see it’s got a code. So we’re at the end of our tether, I guess.

I turn to look at Wendy. “Why? Do you really need to ask that?”

She nods. She really does.

“Because you and I, Wendy”—I point to her, then me—“we were…” I pause. How do I explain it? “We were just… always… gonna be here, ya know? Right here.” I point to the ground, even though I don’t literally mean right here. “We have been an us for almost fifteen years. Did I think I was gonna marry you back then? No. But I knew we were at least gonna be friends forever. And friends don’t kill each other. They just don’t.”