But down here, where the land was wet and the climate warm to scorching, shifters lived more or less in harmony. Except for that odd flock of Canadian Snow Geese. They spent half their years down south but kept to themselves.
But ignoring those birdbrains—which, rumor held, tasted best when basted with butter sauce—the rest of the shifters lived in peace. And if they didn’t, then Big Jim, the mayor of their town, took them out to the swamp for a talking-to. Sometimes, he came back alone.
In the shifter world, justice was swift, and often without mercy. A secret like theirs couldn’t be risked. Even though some humans knew of the existence of shifters, such as the higher levels in the military and government, the general populace remained ignorant.
And everyone worked to keep it that way.
A swerve of the truck had him gripping the sides as Constantine veered off the highway to take the main road into Bitten Point.
Getting closer…
His heart thumped a little bit faster, and his fingers tightened to the point that his knuckles turned white.
Don’t panic now.
He’d done so well up to this point. Taking deep breaths, Caleb pushed the crippling anxiety back into its little box, a box that also contained a rather large reptile that wasn’t too happy with Caleb right now.
Too fucking bad. His beast couldn’t be counted on to behave, so it was best to keep him leashed.
For distraction, Caleb watched the side of the road. They should be coming across it soon… There it was.
The welcome sign to town loomed.
Bitten Point.
The image on the massive billboard consisted of a large gator head with its jaws wide open saying, “Welcome, won’t you stay for a bite?” The colors had faded since he’d last seen it, and the population on it had moved from seven hundred and sixty-five to seven hundred and ninety-six.
Life had flourished while he was gone.
Just past the billboard, he couldn’t help but note that the Itty Bitty Club had gotten a new sign, a neon monstrosity that showed the silhouette of a woman wearing a tiny bikini. An itty-bitty bikini.
For as much as the more puritan-minded tried to get it shut down, the strip club remained, offering visual entertainment, expensive beer, and jobs to those who didn’t mind baring a bit of skin.
Main Street remained much the same with the town hall and post office sharing the same building. The grocery store had gotten a facelift, as a chain one had apparently moved in.
There was the pharmacy, right next door to the vet, whose practice had flourished evidently, given they’d also taken over the video emporium that used to fill the space alongside.
As soon as they left the main road, a rapid right turn that sent his ass skidding, signs of civilization, at least the modern kind, faded. Out here, this close to the Everglades, greenery took on a life of its own, determined to thwart progress’s encroachment of its territory.
They were in bayou land now and, even better, shifter land.
In the movies and books, humans always feared the shifters living in the city, using the paved streets and alleys as their hunting ground. In reality, with the exception of a few groups, most shifters preferred to remain close to nature, to have quick and easy access to acres of wilderness so, when the beast needed to emerge, they didn’t need to fear discovery—or bullets.
Even then, though, they had to be careful. Being a rather large crocodile in bayou country wasn’t always a safe thing. Caleb didn’t have the scars to prove it—only silver truly ever left a permanent mark, silver and fire to be specific—but he did remember the pain of getting shot.
Damn Wes and his not-so-funny pranks.
The truck turned suddenly, but having expected it, Caleb held on to the sides and let out a triumphant yell. “Missed!” A taunt that almost had him biting his tongue as his brother steered into a deep rut. “Bastard!” He yelled it with laughter, a humor that faded with each mile they got closer to his childhood home—and Ma.
There came that fluttery feeling again. But this was a normal trepidation, not the gut-wrenching fear when he heard the crackle of flame devouring tinder.
Would his mother be happy to see him?
Ma certainly hadn’t been too pleased when he’d left, and they’d not talked since. His fault. He cut off everyone in his life. Everyone…
So how would Ma react to her son coming home?
He still remembered her parting words…
“That’s it, leave, just like your father did. He didn’t come back, and neither will you.” She might have thrown the words at him with vehemence, but her voice had also choked with tears.
It was true his dad had joined the military, just like Caleb, except his dad hadn’t come back alive.
The flag they presented his mother did not make up for the loss of the man who’d taught Caleb to fish and spit but who hadn’t been around to teach him how to control the beast.
Not having a father as the reptile within matured, flooding Caleb with its cold views and voracious hungers, meant Caleb didn’t have a mentor to teach him the tricks to remaining in control.
No one to teach him how to let the beast out safely.