Swamp Kings 2 (Bayou Bishops #20)

CHAPTER SEVEN

Bishop stood outside the containment, eyes locked on an unconscious Celeste lying on a stone platform. Though sedated, he could see the subtle twitching of muscles betraying the chaos beneath her skin as the demons weaved themselves into her thoughts and instincts. His new gifts buzzed at the edge of his mind, giving him a clear view of the struggle unfolding within her. She wasn’t just fighting demons—she was fighting herself, her emotions feeding the very things that sought to consume her.

He glanced at Kaphas standing on his right, his new gifts moving along their bond in awe. He was dark fury beneath a serene lake, hiding from Celeste what the demons would use against her. It was the single reason Kaphas wasn’t going insane, and Bishop marveled over the sheer power he quietly executed within himself under such a cruel weight. With her backlash ability tied to her emotions—every surge of fear or spike of panic fed directly into the demons’ hands. An elegant yet terrifying simplicity. The demons weren’t just controlling her, they were using her own defense mechanism against her.

Bishop glanced at the neural dampening field surrounding her. It was meant for something far more volatile—Zodak. It was the only thing holding her together, suppressing the emotional loops that threatened to spiral out of control. But in the dead silence, the demons manipulated her instincts, seeking for triggers they needed to feed on. How long before they found a way to break free? How long before Celeste’s emotions tipped the balance, letting them slip through the cracks?

His eyes traced the lines of her face, seeing she wasn’t just a person anymore—she was a battlefield, and the demons were closing in. His thoughts went to Beth again and the fucking bite he’d just given her. She should’ve been taken in for tests immediately, instead he’d left her at the most critical time with another man’s number to call if she had problems. Lesion wasn’t a fucking doctor, not the kind she needed. It felt like his first big mistake as leader of the most important thing—his wife’s wellbeing. Again, he searched their new bond knitted in his every cell, looking for problems he needed to know, getting the same nothing answer that felt more than ever like bullshit .

His gaze moved over the containment when his gifts whispered to him, showing him the cracks in it. They needed a way to rip the demons out without tearing her apart in the process. Cage the storm without losing her in it. His mind buzzed as solutions formed as quickly as the problems did. He’d need to rely on all of them there—Zodak, Fetch, Fathom, Fin, Quantum, Harlow.

“Come and look,” Quantum called, getting the information Bishop needed on the bio-printer interface. Bishop hurried over, following his fingers flying over the screen. “The demons aren’t just embedded—they’re fusing into her instincts. They know how to mimic her thought patterns, making them nearly impossible to isolate and if we rip them out too soon, they’ll tear her mind apart. If we wait too long, they’ll evolve beyond our reach.”

He stared at the data scrolling across the screens. “We need something more than containment—something that can change as fast as they do,” Bishop muttered. Fragments of data and neural patterns whirled in his head, fitting together in ways that shouldn’t have made sense—but did .

“Yes,” Quantum agreed, eager for the input that had been escaping him.

“We need to be able to adapt faster than they can,” Bishop said.

The men turned toward him, their expressions expectant.

Bishop’s gaze flicked back to the printer, to the materials it had already synthesized. “We need to build a body that doesn’t fight them—but welcomes them in.” He turned to the holographic interface, sketching the neural framework with his fingers to show them. “Every time they try to shift, the body shifts with them. They won’t realize they’re trapped because the structure will keep adapting—changing shape faster than they can react. They’ll lead themselves into dead ends.”

Bishop eyed Quantum who stared at him. “You’re saying we turn the container into... a lure?”

“More than that,” Bishop said. “We make it an evolving maze. Every move they make closes a door behind them. It’s not just containment—it’s assimilation. By the time they figure it out, they’ll be too deep inside our prison to escape.”

Kaphas chuckled lowly and Bishop realized it was Handy. “Welcome fucking aboard.”

“And if they try to flood it with backlash energy?” Harlow asked.

“We let them.” Bishop said. “We design the firewall body to bleed off the excess into the containment field. Every surge of power they use only tightens the net.”

Quantum nodded slowly, seeing it. “This will work.”

Bishop glanced at the printer once more, his mind already calculating the next steps. “It will.”

Harlow added quickly, “I can print the basic organic shell, but if this firewall body doesn’t adapt fast enough, the demons will tear through it.”

Bishop’s gaze moved over the holograms as bone, tissue and neural systems came alive in his mind. He saw how the systems would interact, how they could mimic the adaptability of the demons inside. “We'll need a system that evolves with every shift the demons make. They’ll attack the neural pathways first—so those have to restructure in real-time.”

Quantum answered. “We need stable materials—something resistant to damage but flexible enough to change.”

“Bio-synthetic polymers,” Harlow shot out. “It can mimic living muscle. ”

“Yes,” Bishop said. “But we embed them with quantum lattices—they’ll respond instantly to new inputs.”

“As soon as the demons make a move, the structure shifts,” Quantum hurried, excited.

Harlow’s head shook a little. “That’s risky. If the system evolves on the fly, it might reject the demons outright. We need them contained, not destroyed.”

“That’s why the solution isn’t force,” Bishop reminded. “We build the neural pathways to mirror their thought patterns.”

“So when they try to escape, the body doesn’t block them—it makes them think they’ve succeeded,” Fathom said.

“Every step they take is a deeper layer of containment,” Fin added, seeing it.

“A maze that reshapes itself as they move through it,” Handy muttered like a proud father.

“Yes,” Bishop said. “Every dead end becomes a new beginning. The demons won’t know which direction is forward or backward.”

Fathom tilted his head thoughtfully. “How do you prevent the body from collapsing under its own complexity?”

The question entered a part of his mind where problems exited as answers. “Integrate a self-learning matrix. We can draw it using Kaphas’ bond with Celeste and mimic emotional patterns, giving us the unpredictability we need. The demons won’t realize they’re responding to a false map.”

Fin asked, “And if they try to overload it? Flood the system with backlash energy?”

Bishop reshaped the possibilities. “That’s where Zodak comes in. We link the containment field directly to his body—it becomes part of the firewall. If the demons surge, the energy bleeds off into the field without affecting the internal systems. No overloads, no collapses.”

“Bruh,” Harlow said quietly, on the edge of hope. “Adaptive polymers, shifting neural paths, emotional templates, and real-time containment.” He eyed Bishop for several seconds. “You just created a living trap.”

“Once they’re inside,” Bishop continued, “the firewall body will start rewriting them at a molecular level.”

“How long will this take?” Kaphas asked quietly.

Quantum’s exhale indicated too long.

“We can create two containments.” Bishop realized. “A smaller one now, like a prototype and then a larger one—the actual body. ”

“A double firewall,” Handy said with glee. “Now you see why I picked him?” he said to Harlow.

“I’m not jealous,” Harlow said. “Much.”

“Thirty minutes,” Quantum announced. “That’s how long it will take to print the smaller containment. ” Quantum’s eyes narrowed. “Wait,” he paused, eyeing Bishop, bringing all eyes to him. “I just realized my own solution as well. Since I don’t have the same emotional complexity as Celeste, we can isolate the corrupted neural signals within my system, and I can handle the purge myself. My core functions will kick in automatically once we map the intrusion and reject it.”

Bishop nodded, seeing it. “Right. Your system doesn't need the emotional safety net. We just identify the corrupted data.”

Quantum’s expression shifted into determination. “While you and Harlow work on Celeste, I’ll recalibrate my core systems to prepare for the purge. As soon as you finish with her, I’ll be ready.”

Every possible failure point raced through Bishop’s mind followed by solutions. He realized his own gifts possessed the same adaptive evolution—able to change and adapt to whatever situation he was in. “We need to do this in steps. Fetch marks the first demon fragment and Fathom guides it into the containment unit. Kaphas will track her emotional state, and Fin will keep her from crashing. Zodak will absorb any backlash overflow and Quantum and Harlow can be ready to recalibrate the demon containment module on the fly.” He looked at all of them. “We ready?”

“Harlow, you get the module started,” Quantum ordered, hurrying into action. “I’ll use Stasis Lock to do the immediate containment for Celeste.”

****

Standing next to Fin was like witnessing a miracle. Bishop watched him close his eyes and hover his hands just above her body, his hemokinesis not only monitoring her blood flow and energy levels but regulating them without the need for external devices. He was a thousand times more accurate than any machine, his abilities allowing him to respond to the smallest disruptions before they could become critical.

“Her energy is fluctuating,” Fin said, his voice calm but focused. “I can feel them feeding off her life force. ”

Fetch and Fathom stepped forward then. “I’ll mark them, brother,” Fetch said at her head, a hunger beneath his firm tone. “Then show you.”

“I’m ready,” Fathom murmured next to him, just as eager.

Fetch placed his hands inches away from her head. His eyes drifted closed for several seconds as he moved his near-touch around her skull in various patterns. A full minute later, he removed his hands and turned to Fathom, placing them on the sides of his head, again closing his eyes.

Fathom remained still as Bishop watched, wondering what they were doing and why he couldn’t understand it like other things his mind explained.

“I have it,” Fathom said, his voice barely carrying as Fetch released him and let Fathom take the spot at her head.

Bishop watched Fathom closely, again searching for what he was doing as his hands also moved around her head. He regarded Fetch, still finding a dense wall of nothing.

“It’s a shield,” Fetch explained quietly, not looking at him. “To prevent enemies from learning what must not be learned. A secret language between me and my brothers.”

Fetch extended his hand toward Bishop, eyes locking with his, and without hesitation, Bishop took it. The instant their palms connected, a surge of raw data coursed into his mind, passed through a kind of electro-biofeedback loop. He saw Fetch’s tracking and demon markings. It was like touching the nervous system itself—a living map of energy pathways and cognitive pulses. He saw them now as Fetch did—dark tendrils of corrupted thought weaving into the deepest recesses of Celeste’s mind. Right as Bishop marveled at their symbiosis, his awareness shifted. He became acutely conscious of Fin's hemokinesis. How he held Celeste’s vitals in a delicate balance, manipulating her blood flow with effortless grace, monitoring every surge of energy and draining just enough to keep her stable without weakening her. It was a hum of life force, flowing under Fin’s control like an unseen current.

All the information vanished when Fetch released his hand, the abrupt disconnect rocking him. He blinked several times and looked at Fetch, finding the data he’d just been shown, hovering in the air surrounding him, only now it was written in codes he didn’t recognize. Their secret language. Fucking remarkable .

He turned his attention to Kaphas who stood at her feet, confused at finding another brick wall where information was concerned. Were they able to hide this at will? He needed to understand that trick. Learn it, if it was possible. Whatever Kaphas was doing required his full attention and concentration.

“They’re contained,” Fathom said, stepping back.

“The system is locking down,” Quantum announced, only barely relieved.

Bishop hurried and joined him at the screen, needing to see everything for himself.

“Here,” Quantum pointed out. “It’s fucking working.”

“So far so good,” Bishop muttered, not about to let his guard down.

His eyes flicked to Celeste on the platform, seeing her muscles twitching, her expression locked in a struggle. His gaze flew to Kaphas, realizing something was happening between them. Something he couldn’t see.

“They’re getting more active inside the system,” Harlow muttered from another monitor.

“Because they think they’re home free,” Bishop said, hurrying to Fetch. “ I need to see what’s happening.”

Fetch grabbed his extended hand right as Kaphas jerked violently, his hand flying to his chest with sharp, ragged gasps.

“They’ve corrupted their bond,” Fetch whispered urgently.

Bishop’s mind whirled as it hit him. “They’re attacking him. They think they’ve got full control over her, but every move now seals their fate,” he assured. He just hadn’t thought of them trying to take one of them out in the fucking process.

“They’re using their bond to kill him,” Fetch also saw.

Kaphas hit the floor, his eyes suddenly popping open with a roar, “Bishop!”

“Handy!” Harlow yelled in a panic, racing to him.

“Her vitals are crashing,” Fin strained. “She feels the bond breaking, she’s going nuts.”

“Hold on!” Bishop yelled at Handy while strangling Fetch’s hand as he raced through the the problems and solutions for the right one.

Celeste bolted up and screamed, “They’re killing him!” in one long breath.

“Open your eyes!” Bishop yelled at her, realizing she was still trapped in the illusion of their control. “Celeste, open your eyes! ”

A sob tore from her as she reached blindly toward him with helpless hands, screeching, “Help him!”

Bishop’s eyes locked on Kaphas, his body fighting for every ounce of air. Black veins pulsed beneath his skin, spreading like dark tendrils, creeping up his neck.

“He’s convulsing!” Harlow yelled, holding his head while eyeing Bishop for direction.

Bishop released Fetch and flew to Kaphas, dropping next to him and grabbed hold of his shoulder, praying to fucking see something, anything. His Kevlar-coated skin glitched as his face twisted with strain.

“Bishop!” Quantum half begged.

“I’m fucking trying!” he yelled, gasping when he had the full scope of the problem. “He’s not fucking using it!”

“Not using what!” Harlow demanded.

“His backlash power, he’s holding it back, he thinks they’ll use it to hurt her.”

Kaphas fought to pull air into his body, like something crushed him.

“They’re killing him,” Harlow whispered in disbelief as Celeste’s screams turned frantic and non-stop.

Bishop finally saw what had to happen. “Let them,” he gasped as Kaphas’ lips parted in a shallow gasp, his Kevlar flickering.

“Explain yourself, Marsh King,” Quantum demanded suddenly kneeling on the other side of Kaphas.

The window was already closing.

“I have no fucking pulse, bruh,” Harlow announced, fighting his own panic.

Bishop hurried to Celeste and grabbed her arm, bringing her wrist to his mouth. He sank his fangs in with precision, injecting just enough venom.

Two seconds in, her body jerked as her breath caught in her throat, the venom coating her muscles and mind, triggering a manual release of the illusion gripping her. Her breaths slowed and deepened as her eyes blinked open, sharp with clarity.

“Help Kaphas,” Bishop ordered, winded.

The second her eyes landed on him, she flew off the platform. Awe struck him when he saw her backlash power following behind her like a tidal wave of ebony energy. She fell on him with a sob, and the power followed, crashing into both of them as she kissed his dead lips, wailing, “I got you, I have you! I have you!”

Bishop hurried to the monitors with Quantum on his heels. His breath flew out at seeing it. “Holy fuck,” he whispered, his heart hammering in his chest as he pointed a trembling finger at the black blob on the screen. “They’re fucking done, they’re bound in tight. Every move is being rewritten at a molecular level. They can’t shift, they can’t react, they can’t do a fucking thing because every impulse locks them tighter and tighter.”

The sound of Kaphas’ gasp drew their panicked gazes. The sight of dark veins receding literally buckled Bishop’s knees.

“Fuck,” Quantum shot out on a breath, his hand falling heavily on Bishop’s shoulder before pulling him into a tight embrace. “You did it, you fucking did it.”

“We did it,” Bishop said when he released him.

“My turn,” Quantum said, hurrying to the other machine, pissed. “And we need to hurry before these fucks throw another curve ball.”

****

Beth jolted up from the water and snatched the phone from the footstool next to the tub. My Favorite Husband in the World. “Oh God,” she gasped, sliding the answer symbol repeatedly. She grabbed the towel and dried her fingers then tried again, putting it to her ear. “Bishop?”

“Fuck, baby,” he breathed in the phone.

Fear punched her stomach. “What’s wrong!”

“You took too long to answer.”

She sagged a little. “I couldn’t answer the phone.”

“Why?”

“My fingers were wet. I think I fell asleep.”

“Where?”

“I’m… in the tub,” she whispered, standing to get out.

“With the phone?”

“I’m getting out now.”

“Put the fucking phone down, baby.”

She set it on the chair, her body shaking as she climbed out, wrapping the towel around her and picking it back up. “I’m out.”

He let out another breath right as she caught hers when a stomach cramp assaulted her again.

“How are you, tell me what you’re feeling. I shouldn’t have left you so suddenly, I’m coming to get you, we’re going to see King Thakx so he can run tests on you. Lesion recommended it too.”

God, he was terrified. “Alright, I’m getting dressed now. ”

“How are you feeling, any symptoms? I mean what are your symptoms,” he demanded.

Great, there went her planned answer of none. “I feel amazing,” she whispered, happy to have something good and honest to say.

“I want only what’s wrong, not right. I’m fifteen minutes from you. Can you tell how the baby is?”

“When I said I feel amazing, I was saying I have nothing major happening.”

“Give me all the minor happenings, Beth.”

Her clit pulsed with heat at his tone and the use of her real name. “I’m usually tired a lot and I can hardly blink now I’m so wide awake.”

“Fuck.”

“What?”

“You need rest,” he said, like that was an obvious issue.

“Only I don’t,” she reassured. “It’s like I’ve taken the perfect prenatal vitamin, and I have all the energy to create a baby and then some. How are you?”

“Not done with you,” he said, his tone giving her another blast of sexual hunger.

“Okay,” she whispered.

“Fuck,” he muttered.

“What now?” she said, holding the phone to her ear with her shoulder and removing the robe from the back of the door.

“Nothing,” he grit.

“Nothing.”

“Nothing I want to say right now.”

She paused briefly, halfway into the robe. “Why not?” she wondered, his answer creating some serious stomach acid.

“What other symptoms do you have?”

So he knew she was horny out of her damn mind. “Guess it goes without saying that I can’t stop thinking of fucking you.”

“It does,” he said, the accusing tone doing the opposite of turning her on. Tears welled in her eyes when the pain in her chest got so incredible. “I’ll call you back.”

She hung up and choked out several sobs, covering her mouth. The complete honest answers to his question were, I’m emotional to the point of nauseated, needy to the point of pissed, so horny I masturbated five times and I’m eating like a … She sobbed again. … a fat gorilla.

Her phone rang, bringing another gush of tears as she quickly climbed into her undergarments. She stopped long enough to answer it. “You’re on speaker, I’m dressing,” she forced out firmly, setting the phone on the vanity.

“Do not fucking hang up like that.”

The fear and anger in his tone brought more acid to her already nauseated stomach, sending her racing to the toilet to vomit up the massive amount of food she’d consumed in the past four hours. There’s nothing wrong, everything is just multiplied, just like Lesion said. Hunger, energy, emotions, sex drive. And there were a lot of positives, like no fear, which for her was huge but of course for him he’d see it as foolish.

“I’m coming,” she called at the phone on the sink ledge. “I need to rinse my mouth.” She turned on the water, breathing through the rush of emotions at the thought of him being mean again. Not mean, worried out of his mind. Get it together.

She swooshed her mouth and spit several times then forced her eyes to the mirror, looking for symptoms and signs that she wasn’t okay, because if she wasn’t, she wanted to know so she could deal with it as quick as possible to protect their child. She angled her head left and right, finding nothing but flawless skin and clear eyes. She examined her gums, finding them a healthy pink, same as usual. And no vampire teeth. Yes, she may have worry-wondered a teeny tiny bit about that.

She eyed the phone, remembering he was going crazy with worry and put it to her ear. “I just did another check on myself, just in case you think I haven’t been monitoring, I have… hello?” She lowered the phone, seeing his call had dropped. Or he’d hung up. She imagined him panicking at the sound of her puking and losing focus and crashing into a tree. She covered her mouth when the sobs returned. The phone rang, the sound jolting her bones as she answered it, remembering to tell him she was also extra sensitive to sound. “I’m sorry, I—”

“What happened!” he hurried, the power in his words like a gunshot in her ear.

“I need you to calm down,” she whispered, already on the verge. “Your fear and your anger are affecting me negatively.”

“Baby,” he whispered, his regret an instant balm through her. “I’m so sorry, I’m five minutes out.”

“I don’t want you to be sorry, I just need you to calm down long enough for me to talk to you. Your anger seems to… cause drastic symptoms in me, not all good,” she added.

“And not all bad,” he reminded, his anger toned way down but still there. All aimed at himself she knew .

“Not all bad,” she agreed, making her way to the front door. “I’m headed out to the little shack to wait for you.”

“Not in the dark,” he said, back to a thousand percent pissed. “Not in the dark,” he repeated softer. “Wait for me. Please,” he added.

“I’ll wait,” she said, making her way to the kitchen table, trying to be quiet. “See, that was easy. You make nice demands, and I listen. You don’t, then I get super emotional and puke my food up.”

“I love you,” he breathed.

The desperate confession opened the flood gates.

“What’s wrong?” he whispered, hearing her sniffling down sobs.

“I have a list, a short list of my symptoms,” she gasped. “More hungry, more emotional, more energetic, more…desperate for sex,” she barely whispered then remembered, “more sensitive to noise and touch and… smell, not all bad, not all good.”

“I’m sorry, angel,” he hurried. “I’m two minutes away.”

His words hit her like morphine, sagging her in the chair. “Don’t speed,” she managed, suddenly so dizzy and weak. “Shit.”

“Okay…” he said carefully, back to panicked. “Talk to me.”

“I’m… suddenly…” The room spun and the floor slammed into her body.