Swamp Kings 2 (Bayou Bishops #20)

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

“That’s the road,” Seer pointed from the passenger seat.

Bishop turned the giant rig onto the narrow-paved lane.

“You wanna switch?” Seer asked, hopeful. “You already hogged two hundred miles.”

Bishop grinned, glancing at him. “You wanna drive this bitch,” he realized, Seer’s laugh confirming.

“Maybe.”

“Next stop it’s yours.”

Seer leaned and eyed the skies. “The Lord’s about to crack the dawn,” he mused.

“How we doin’ on time,” Bishop wondered.

“Only behind an hour.”

Good. But he wasn’t about to celebrate. Especially since Beth mentioned seeing their son again in a dream. Older again, still building something but the ravens and the crows bothered him. They were swarming. Like bees when a hive is in danger she’d said.

Did that mean their son was in danger? Or them? He realized if it was them, then it was both. None of the answers were good and that had the air cracking its knuckles with dark promises and doom tightening its fingers around his neck.

“What’s on your mind?” Bishop asked his spiritual compass. “I need some divine news.”

“Hm.”

Bishop glanced at him.

Seer said, “Nothing to speak of, really.”

“Hm,” Bishop returned.

“I’d tell you, brother,” he assured softly.

“Well, something’s on your mind,” he said, eyeing his wife on the screen in the main cabin. Something was on her mind too. She had her face fixed perfectly which meant she was forcing it.

“I never worry about things working out,” Seer said.

Bishop glanced at him, again attempting to produce those measures and figures that showed him data on everything but the shit he really needed it for. “So, what do you chew on? How long it will take, how it’ll play out?” Bishop maneuvered a narrow curve.

“I think I chew the most on what others worry about.”

Not a surprise. “I’m not worried if I know you’re not worried.”

He chuckled on an exhale. “Brother, you worry enough for the whole world.”

Bishop wouldn’t deny it. “Is it obvious just to you?” Or did everybody see it. He didn’t give a shit beyond what his wife saw. Was that what stole the peace from her pretty face, his fucking inability to trust anything outside of himself?

“It’s obvious to those close to you.”

“So just about everybody.” He glanced at his wife again, finding her looking off while Maggie and the rest engaged in conversation. There was no audio but judging by expressions, serious topics were happening but not as serious as what bothered his wife.

“Next stop should be in fifteen minutes,” Seer said.

“You reading my mind?” Bishop muttered.

“A little.”

“Keep me informed. I’m oblivious, apparently.”

Seer angled his head, eyes on the windshield. “Did you hear that?” he asked with a small grin.

“What?”

He turned his serene blue eyes to him and made a slow, quiet, explosion sound. “The crack of dawn.”

Bishop chuckled, looking for what had Seer so enraptured in the sky. “You like dawns, I see.”

“Oh, they are spectacular,” he said softly. “Every one of them. Each brand new. First of its kind and last of its kind.” He sighed, leaning back. “Every day is a snapshot in the family album of eternity.”

Damn. “I sure do envy that. ”

“What?”

“Just your ability to step out of everything and experience things that way.”

“Hm. Wasn’t always like that. I had to grow into it.”

“Dare I ask how long that took?”

Seer shrugged a little. “Isn’t the same for everybody.”

He stole glances at him. “Ten years? Fifteen? Twenty?”

He took a deep, contemplative breath. “I remember the Lord pressed upon me one day to count my blessings.” He glanced at Bishop. “At first, I thought he meant it just in general, like… be thankful, be grateful. Be he kept repeating it till I realized he meant it literally—count them. I got a paper and a pen and began from current time to as far back as I could remember, recording the things he’d done in my life. With every entry, I became what you see in me today. Confident. Assured. At peace. Also known by many as faith.”

Bishop regarded him when he got quiet, finding him caught in a distant memory or dilemma.

He finally looked at him, his awe stern. “There’s real power in words, son. Whether you think them, speak them or write them. They’re like fuel,” he said carefully. “They drive the entire universe and make things move. Make things real. Alive. The more you know something, the more power it has. And that list I made pulled together so much power and fuel, it shot me to the spiritual moon.” His grin slowly spread as his gaze meandered over to him. “And once you go to that moon, you can never forget what that’s like,” he said, face lit up. “It’s a part of you. But it wasn’t the list itself that did that, it was everything on that list. Pulling it all together in a single moment amounted to rocket fuel. But rocket fuel by itself is just a powerful thing and unless you put it in your engine, it can’t really take you anywhere. It’s just potential. That’s all faith is. It’s not just knowing things, it’s knowing and believing so well, that you will put it in motion. That kind of power is born in here,” he said, pointing to his chest.

Bishop was now more envious of this power than ever. “And what if you’re doing random shit while not knowing if it’s the right thing?”

“Well, that’s where things get divine,” he said with an inviting secrecy. “Every item in my list wasn’t done by me, it was done by God through the things I did. There was no route I took that He wasn’t God of. When you give yourself over to Him, He owns all the roads and paths and routes. The good word says, ‘We know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him.’ And that ‘The Lord makes firm the steps of the one who delights in him; though he may stumble, he will not fall, for the Lord upholds him with his hand.’ He’s talking to you, brother,” he informed. “If you trust in the Lord with all your heart and don’t lean on your knucklehead understanding, He will make your paths straight.”

Bishop had to chuckle at that. “Knucklehead is fucking right,” easily agreed. “So no matter how amazingly I fuck up, He can fix it you're saying.”

“In a holy fucking second.”

Bishop shook his head. “Damn, I love the hell out of you. But brother,” he said with a sigh. “That is one fat pill to swallow.”

“Advise you take it with plenty of water, then.”

He glanced at Seer. “And that’s code for?”

“Gah-day-dawn,” he muttered, his frustration making Bishop laugh.

“What I do now?”

“Where’s my diligent pupil? The water is the word of God, the manual for everything. Which reminds me. They referred to you as a quantum architect but just remember, all that quantum architecting you’re doing is on shit that the real Quantum Architect made. Which makes you only good at using what the real genius created.”

Bishop gave a big laugh at that one. “That is a fucking fact, oui?”

“Damn right it is. So, don’t get arrogant.” He pointed. “That’s our turn.”

Bishop already had his eye on it. His entire being was counting down the seconds before he would hold his wife.

*** *

Mabel followed her gracious host through the scatter of tents, still reeling from everything, particularly Gideon. The man that had initially struck terror in her was suddenly her savior and protector. It was a real miracle, and it was happening to her of all people. The newest member of The Shunned.

But Gideon flipped that around too. He wasn’t The Shunned, they were, those elders beyond that wall—she had been right all along in her gut. She always knew something was very off in that place, a dirt hiding in the deepest fibers of their righteous rules.

She paused when he stopped and yanked a tent away from another one just before it. Was it a double tent? “I only need one, you know,” she assured, not wanting him to take extra care where it wasn’t needed.

“This one’s mine,” he informed, untying the entrance on hers. “I put it here because you’re a woman in a camp full of men.” He faced her, his powerful, direct gaze sending her blood running. “We don’t have etiquette rules set up where women are concerned other than if you enter a marriage bed with her, then you never leave it. But how they go about doing that is not anybody’s business.” He held his arm toward the opening, that hard gaze not leaving hers. “But since I have claimed you as mine to protect, you’ll remain where I can do that.”

Gracious, that was… “Thank you,” she said, glancing at the opening before running into his hard gaze again. She fought her way out of it, getting ensnared in his naked torso now. “Aren’t you freezing,” she gasped, forcing her eyes off him as her blood rushed to her ears and cheeks.

“We’re used to it.”

She shivered at the thought of living like they did while her pores suddenly craved to feel the warmth of human skin.

“If you get cold, I’ll get you more blankets. But you’ll need to wake me.”

She nodded, kneeling at the door of the tent and peeking in. “Okay.”

“If you need to relieve yourself, you’ll wake me for that too and I’ll accompany you to those... accommodations,” he muttered, like he had to think up an appropriate word for a bathroom. Mercy, was it a hole in the ground?

She moved her gaze up the tall, chiseled body before her. “Thank you again.” She fought down the shame of being useless baggage. “If… you need anything I can provide, let me know. Medically,” she added, hearing how that might sound.

“I’ll let you know if I need a band-aid.”

She regarded him, the moonlight too faint to read his face. She wondered then. “Do you have any idea what time it is?”

He glanced up for two seconds. “Ten o’clock.”

“Is that… moon time?” she marveled, looking up at the towering trees, amazed.

“It’s the time according to the moon, yes.”

She watched him walk off, but he didn’t get far before returning with an armful of wood and dropping it on the ground. She made out a spot for a fire. She realized the area was a bit private with its own things, even seating. She spied something hanging over the pit. “Do you need help?” she offered, the idea of a fire bringing that ever-hungry need for warmth. The fur pelt was actually pretty lovely, it blocked the wind where it covered her, but she was cold down to her bones and felt like it would take a whole year to heat them back up.

“Go to sleep.”

Right. She doubted she could. “I’m suddenly more cold than tired and unless you can put a fire in my bed, I don’t think I can sleep.”

“A fire in your bed,” he mumbled, his amused tone sending a flash of alarm through her. “I cannot provide that,” he assured.

“I didn’t mean that kind of fire,” she said at his last adamant tone. “Why is your mind bent toward the gutter?”

The first flames appeared, illuminating his grin followed by his gaze finding her. His brows rose as he added wood to the fire. “I've not the slightest clue.”

She made her way to a log and pushed it as close to the coming heat source as she could and sat, reaching for the tiny flames. It hit her that it wasn’t the cold keeping her awake, it was her need to keep talking to him. She hadn’t done that in forever and it was nice. He was nice. And so very handsome she decided to admit, wanting it out in the open instead of sneaking around in her head.

“So, you men aren’t priests,” she said, recalling the marriage bed bit.

“We are priests,” he corrected.

“You… you are? But you said—”

“Our priests marry if they choose to.”

She considered that. “Nobody has a wife here,” she pointed out.

“Are you sure?” he challenged, adding more wood to the fire, requiring her to scoot her log back a couple feet.

“I guess I’m not.” She eyed him as he sat, the fire dancing in his blue gaze. “Well, are they married? Any of them?”

“Not the men currently here, no. And those who do marry that are here, usually leave and start a family.” He looked at her. “The men here are soldiers. This is a soldier’s camp you’re in.”

Right. She wondered then. “When will you do something about the girls? And what do you plan to do?”

“What we plan to do.”

“You and your men?”

“And my nurse.”

“Me?” she cried, alarmed. “What can I bloody do?”

“You can find out what the girls want.”

“What do you mean?”

“Do they want to stay there, do they want to leave and if they want to leave, you’ll tell them they’ll be provided for if they do.”

She narrowed her gaze at the fire, confused. “How? Where? Out here?”

“I’m starting our own community,” he said.

That news wow’d her real good. “Here? In the woods?”

“Yes. We’ve already begun building shelters.”

“Really,” she said, excited at this idea, looking around.

“They’re up the mountain a ways. Secluded. Protected. ”

She studied his handsome face, amazed. “This is fantastic,” she realized. “I’d surely talk to them, I’d talk to all of them. Wait,” she paused, remembering. “They won’t even permit this, the lot of them.”

“I wasn’t planning to ask for their permission.”

What on earth was he thinking? “And how will that work?”

He pulled his knife out again and whittled on something, his smile a little too perfect for a wild man in the woods. “Was thinking I could use your mouth.”

An episode of chemicals erupted at those words and that… bossy, teasing tone. She should be angry, he was sexually teasing her again. “You know, none of the men beyond that wall ever did that to me.”

His blue gaze danced on her. “Did what?”

She shook her head at him. “Oh no you don’t, you know what.”

“I have a hard time believing that one,” he muttered.

“I didn’t say they didn’t want me, they just never went about it like you are. You’re flirting,” she said, deciding to call him on it. “Do you want to marry me too? You’ll have to get in line behind Brother what’s his face, the righteous idiot of the circus. He proposed—past tense now that I’m found out to be a liar and troublemaker and a speaker of words, and shaver of legs.”

“Brother Jakob ,” he said.

She tugged the fur pelt closer, her jaw shaking when the wind whipped around her. “That’s the one.”

“He wanted to use you too,” he muttered. “To make his babies.”

“Oh, he’d be out of luck then,” she said with a shrug. “I can’t make those.”

She watched his face, surprised to see his smile and gaze soften. “No place for babies in a warzone, anyway.” He laughed when her jaw dropped, back to whittling. “What?”

“I bloody well know you want babies.”

His brows narrowed while he gave a half grin. “How am I now part of this marriage discussion. ”

“You tell me, Mr. Flirty pants,” she demanded with wide eyes, his laugh dancing through her blood.

“I made a vow to this life. No regrets.”

It hit her then. “Are you saying you’re never marrying?”

“Well now, I didn’t say that,” he muttered, confusing her.

“So, you’re a man-whore, is that it?” she said, her anger heating her blood right up.

“A man-whore,” he chuckled. “That would be hard to be if I’ve never been with a woman.” He paused his whittling to grin right at her. “What has you shocked? That I’m not a man-whore or that I’m a virgin?”

“This is not shock it’s confusion,” she explained.

“You sound and look very shocked,” he countered.

“So you’re a virgin who took a vow with no regrets, not wanting babies, but flirting I see. I’m not following how these fit in your…your resume,” she sp uttered, bringing his deep laugh.

“I’m not either,” he admitted, back to carving. “You seem to be an exception to all the rules.”

She sputtered indignantly at his nerve. “I will most certainly not be the exception, Mr. Voss. Is everything I say a joke to you? I could quit this job you know.”

He straightened, his mirthful eyes not letting up. “You’re like that one rare comet making an appearance every thousand years. Nobody plans for that, you have no rules, or ideas about it, you just have a remarkable event passing you by.” He blew on the tip of his stick, his brows drawn. “Guess I’m just… enjoying the event.”

Her jaw had dropped with each description. “I’m a remarkable event that you’re celebrating, you say? You go from flirting to being impossibly romantic, a priest who doesn’t intend to marry or have babies? Number one, I am sitting across a fire from you in what seems like the beginning of a blizzard, I’m a human being, I’m freezing , and I’m scared. I’m not shooting across the sky a million miles away while you whittle on and celebrate.”

He’d paused again, watching her .

“Stop your staring,” she ordered, tugging the pelt tighter to her. “It’s so rude!”

“I can’t,” he said, his soft tone drawing more than her gaze. “I know you’re not a comet. It was a metaphor.”

She snorted as he went back to his stick art.

“You will sleep with me tonight,” he announced. “It’ll be too cold for you to sleep alone.”

Her entire body jolted while he sat there aloof. “You are surely a jesting madman,” she said in amazement.

His head shook. “Not joking.” He looked up and around at the sky. “You’re right about a storm. And I’m not letting my nurse freeze to death.”

Her brain imagined being in the same tent with him and she panicked. “You said you had extra blankets!”

“You’ll need body warmth,” he said, his tone final. “Don’t worry, our flesh won’t touch.”

He stood and tossed more logs onto the fire as she frantically searched for an escape. She couldn’t sleep in his tent and share body warmth!

“You’re a nurse, Mabel,” he said, simply. “Think of it as a medical procedure to save your life. Come. I need to prepare.”

She stood, watching him dismantle her tent then draped his with several fur pelts before covering that with her tent and tying it down tightly.

“Get in,” he ordered as the wind picked up, the blizzard reality suddenly crashing into her brain. There was a blizzard now ?

She dove for the entrance and scrambled into pitch darkness, her heart banging against her chest, breaths labored as yelling erupted outside.

“Lock it all down!” Gideon’s voice roared through the air, the deep sound riding up and down her spine and making her heart beat faster. She could hardly believe how the wind already howled and shook the tent, sending her scrambling into a corner. Where was he? Did they need help?