"No." Celia's voice echoed through the trees. "It's not over until I say it's over." The rage twisting her features fell away and she gazed at Shelby gently. "Shelby, we're Longsfords...family. Don't question my judgment. Now go on home and let me do what needs to be done."

"I can't do that, Mama." Shelby took another step toward her mother, close enough now to catch the scent of her familiar lilac perfume and the bite of the odor of gin. She was close enough to see the bloodl.u.s.t in Celia's eyes, the flash of moonlight on a long, sharp knife. "I can't let you hurt Billy."

"Shelby, stay where you are." Where before Billy's voice had been quizzical, this time it was deep with the knowledge of danger, the recognition of being in the presence of unstable evil.

"Mama, give me the knife." Shelby ignored Billy's warning, knowing if she didn't get the knife away from her mother, Celia would try to harm Billy. She couldn't let that happen. In an instant she realized if the knife pierced Billy, she would feel the pain. She'd rather feel the sting of the knife herself than to have him hurt.

"Shelby." The cry came from a distance.

"You hear that, Mama. Bob is on his way. I told you, it's over." Shelby inched closer and Celia raised the knife to ward her away. "Billy, stay back," she exclaimed as he tensed and started forward.

"Mrs. Longsford."

All three turned at the sound of Angelique's voice. Angelique stepped into the clearing, her face a mask of ancient sorrow. "You killed my sister," she said, her gaze not wavering from Celia.

"Don't be ridiculous," Celia scoffed.

"And my Remy." A deep keening burst from Angelique. A haunting sound of deep pain that echoed eerily through the trees.

As the noise died, Angelique lunged for Celia. The sudden movement broke the inertia that had held Shelby and Billy and they rushed forward, as well.

Angelique cried in pain and at the same time Bob, Michael and several deputies rushed into the clearing. In moments Celia and Angelique were separated, Angelique's shoulder bleeding copiously as Billy held on to the knife.

"What in the h.e.l.l is going on?" Bob asked.

"She killed my sister...my husband," Angelique said, leaning weakly against the trunk of a tree.

"That's ridiculous." Celia tried to struggle out of Bob's grip. "That woman attacked me and I want her arrested."

"We need to get Angelique to a doctor," Billy said, pressing a handkerchief over Angelique's shoulder to staunch the flow of blood.

Bob frowned in obvious frustration. "I don't know what the h.e.l.l is going on, but let's get out of this swamp to sort it out."

Bob held on to Celia as Billy supported Angelique. Michael and Shelby silently followed as they moved out of the swamp and to the Longsford mansion. Shelby knew she was in shock. Her mind was curiously numb, her skin unnaturally cold as she wrapped her arms around herself and walked toward the house.

Her mother was the swamp serpent, responsible for seventeen deaths. She knew it was true, felt the knowledge settle with her memories. The extra piece of puzzle fit. But nothing could dispel the horror. Nothing could take away the utter abhorrence that inundated her as she tried to understand why.

Big John, John junior, Olivia and Roger were seated in the Iiving room as they all walked in. Apparently they had just arrived home from their fund-raiser, as they were still dressed in their formal attire. "What's this?" Big John stood as they entered the room. "What's going on here?"

Billy went directly to the phone and placed a call to Doc Cashwell. Angelique leaned against the doorframe, looking proud and n.o.ble despite the paleness of her skin and the blood that still seeped from her wound.

"Will somebody please tell me what the h.e.l.l is going on?" Big John boomed.

"I'm hoping we'll figure this all out right now," Bob said, his expression still one of confusion.

Shelby sank onto the sofa, her gaze directed at her mother, who once again looked small, almost pitiful in her cotton nightgown. "Mama?" Celia refused to meet Shelby's gaze.

Billy hung up the phone and moved to stand next to Angelique. "Mrs. Longsford stabbed Angelique," he said.

Big John turned and stared at his wife in amazement. "Why would you do a d.a.m.n fool thing like that?"

"She is the swamp serpent," Shelby said softly.

Big John's gaze focused on Shelby, even more amazed than before. There was a moment of heavy silence, then Big John threw back his head and roared with laughter.

The change in Celia was immediate, as if her husband's laughter caused something to snap inside her. She raised her head, eyes flashing malevolence. "What's the matter, John? Don't believe I'm capable?" She jerked out of Bob's grip and advanced toward her husband. "You were going to leave us for that swamp tramp. I had to do something, had to take care of the problem, protect our family."

"No." Olivia stumbled backward, her face drained of all color. "It can't be you. I...thought it was Daddy. Tyler thought it was Big John. Tyler was going to tell." She clamped her mouth shut, her eyes darting wildly as if seeking a means of escape.

"Good G.o.d, Olivia, what have you done?" Roger asked.

Tears began to stream down her face and she looked at Big John pleadingly. "I did it for you. I thought...I needed to protect you. I love you, Daddy." A deputy moved next to her, ready to grab her should she attempt to run.

The laughter that had been on Big John's features transformed into revulsion. As Shelby watched, her father grew old. Confusion tugged his features downward and his eyes became haunted. Michael gripped the crucifix around his neck and prayed beneath his breath.

"He's not man enough to do what I've done," Celia boasted, and now the madness was full in her eyes, a shining wildness that sent a shiver up Shelby's spine. "That woman was evil, she had to be disposed of before she stole all that belonged to me."

"You killed Marguerite?" Big John asked.

"And all the rest of them," Celia replied, pride ringing in her voice.

"Mrs. Longsford, perhaps you'd better contact your lawyer before you say anything more," Bob said.

"I don't want a lawyer. I know what I did and I want everyone to know." Her eyes gleamed and she tossed her head like a coquettish young woman. "They tell stories about me, bedtime tales about the swamp serpent who eats people for dinner."

Shelby felt as if it was all a dream. She listened numbly as her mother spoke candidly of the murders, explaining that Layne Rocharee had been the first, a test to make certain she was capable of stabbing a person to death. He'd been a practice run for Marguerite. "Every time you moaned her name in your sleep, I killed another piece of swamp sc.u.m," she told her husband. "And it didn't take long for me to realize I liked the feeling it gave me." She gestured around. "Here I've always been nothing, a shadow of you. But in the swamp I was something. I was powerful."

"But Mama, why tonight? Why Billy?" Shelby asked.

Celia looked at her, eyes cold and distant. "I overheard you talking to Billy, knew they were picking up Michael tonight. I couldn't let Michael go to jail, so I knew there had to be another swamp serpent murder tonight."

"But why Billy?" This time it was Michael who asked the question.

Celia smiled, the cunning smile of insanity. "If Billy died I knew Shelby would leave." She looked at Shelby. "You couldn't leave it alone. You kept picking and prodding to find the killer. I made you forget once. I figured I could make you forget again."

Minutes later Olivia and Celia, handcuffed, were placed in two patrol cars. Doc Cashwell arrived and took off with Angelique, insisting the wound required more treatment than he could give on the spot. As the cars drove off, Shelby turned to her brother and stumbled into his embrace.

The tears she'd stifled from the moment her full memory returned now fell. She cried for the child she had been, betrayed by a mother obsessed and crazed. She sobbed for the victims, innocent people who had fallen to her mother's madness.

"I'm sorry, Michael." She finally stepped away from him. "I...I was afraid it was you. I told Bob I thought it was you."

"Shh, that doesn't matter now. Thank G.o.d I had solid alibis for several of the murders." Michael touched her cheek. "Are you okay?"

"I'm not sure. I think it will be a very long time before I'm really okay." She leaned against him. "Oh, Michael, I can't understand any of this."

"Everyone said it was a crime of pa.s.sion. And it was, the pa.s.sionate hatred of one woman, and the pa.s.sionate distorted love of another."

Shelby turned, seeking Billy. She caught sight of him running across the lawn, and in an instant he disappeared into the darkness of the swamp. Her mother had killed his friends and neighbors. Her sister had murdered his best friend and wife. No wonder he had run. The Longsfords had destroyed too much of what had been important to him. Surely he hated them...hated them all. Not for the first time in her life, Shelby was sorry she'd been born a Longsford. She knew Billy was out of her life for good. Now all she had to figure out was how to pick up the shattered pieces of her life.

"ANGELIQUE?" Shelby pushed open the hospital room door and peered in.

"Come in." Angelique gestured her inside, looking as regal, as proud as a queen even though she lay in the hospital bed, her side and shoulder bandaged.

"I...I brought you some flowers." Shelby set the arrangement on the table, then remained awkwardly standing. "I don't know what to say, how to tell you how sorry I am. I know they're nothing but words, and there's no way they can ease your pain."

Angelique pointed her to the chair next to the bed. Her eyes, so dark and mysterious, stared intently into Shelby's. "You owe me no apologies."

"Yes, but my mother-"

"Exactly." Angelique cut her off. "Your mother. Not you."

Shelby sank into the chair, grateful for her words of absolution, yet discomforted by the woman's probing gaze. "How are you? They told me your lung was punctured."

"Bah, I'm a fast healer. I'll be out of here in a day or two. And you...are you a fast healer?"

Shelby smiled. "I'm not sure. Time will tell."

Angelique raised herself against the pillows, wincing slightly, then refocused her gaze on Shelby. "I sent the dead flowers to you."

"Why?"

Her gaze shifted to the window. "Since Remy's death, my life has been empty. Billy's friendship filled a s.p.a.ce for me, and for a while I thought that friendship might become something more." She sighed. "You frightened me. Whenever Billy spoke your name, I heard something in his voice that I'd never heard before." She turned and looked back at Shelby. "I sent them to scare you, to make you go away and leave Billy alone. But it didn't work, did it? You love him."

"No." Shelby felt the blood rush to her face. "I...it doesn't matter what I feel for Billy. There can never be anything between us."

Angelique smiled. "Ah, you sound like a woman who thinks she can control such things. What you feel for Billy is far stronger than anything you can control. You don't throw away emotions so great."

"Perhaps not, but if you leave them alone long enough, eventually they go away," Shelby replied softly.

Again Angelique smiled. "Ah, were it all that easy."

As Shelby drove home minutes later, she thought of Angelique's words. She knew it would not be easy, knew that forgetting Billy would be one of the most difficult things she'd ever faced. She cursed herself now for her weakness, for allowing herself to get involved with him in any way other than a strictly professional one. She'd been a fool, and now she would pay a fool's price, extracted through sensual dreams, hollow yearning and heartbreak.

She hadn't seen Billy since two nights before, when Bob had taken her mother and her sister away and she had seen him fleeing back into the swamp.

She'd spent the morning with Abe, who had agreed to drop the charges against Billy. Shelby knew she needed to see Billy one last time, to tie up loose ends concerning his case.

As she pulled up to the mansion, she saw her father sitting on the rocker on the front porch. In the past two days she'd watched her father grapple with all that had happened. The events had humbled him, caused him to retreat into the sh.e.l.l of an old man. Gone was his bl.u.s.ter, his zest for life, as if the tragedy had sucked it all out of him.

She got out of the car and walked to the chair next to him. Easing down, she fought the impulse to take his hand, knowing he had always loathed signs of weakness in himself or in others.

"I loved her, Shelby." His chair rocked to and fro in a slow rhythm.

"I know."

"She took me by surprise. My life was settled, then she appeared, full of life and laughter."

It was at that moment Shelby realized her father wasn't talking about Celia, but rather Marguerite Boujoulais. She didn't answer, slightly uncomfortable but knowing he felt the need to talk, to somehow explain.

"I have to admit, your mother was right. I wanted to leave her and marry Marguerite, but I couldn't. I was afraid." He frowned and stopped the rocking motion. "I was a fool. I cared too much what people would say, a Longsford taking up with a swamp girl. I knew I should break it off with Marguerite, but I couldn't do that, either. And so I snuck around like some lovesick schoolboy."

"Dad, nothing you did justifies what Mama and Olivia did," Shelby said.

"I know that, but I've never been one to shirk my responsibility and I have to accept partial blame for this mess."

This time Shelby didn't fight her impulse. She reached over and took her father's hand in hers, fully expecting him to pull away, but needing to make the gesture nevertheless. To her surprise, he didn't pull away but rather folded his fingers to tighten their grip around her hand. "I've never been much of a father to you, Shelby. But you've thrived despite my mistakes. That speaks well of you, your strength."

The crimes of her mother and sister had left holes in Shelby's heart, but as she sat there holding her father's hand, she realized they stood on the threshold of a new, different relationship. One that would be healthy and good for them both.

They sat there for a long time, not speaking, having no need for words. Finally it was her father who broke the silence. "So, what are your plans? You heading back to Shreveport?"

Shelby shook her head. "No. I'm going to close my law office there and move it here. I figure there are lots of people in the swamp who can't afford adequate counsel for charges leveled against them. It's time they had an advocate besides Billy." Besides, she refused to let her mother win, to once again leave her home because of the actions of others.

Big John nodded and eyed her knowingly. "Don't make the same mistake I did, Shelby. Don't be afraid to follow your heart. If it takes you into the swamp, then so be it."

"But sometimes in following your heart there are just too many obstacles to get around to reach the end of the journey," she replied.

His hand squeezed hers once again and they went back to watching the sun set over the swamp.

SHELBY WALKED through the woods, the morning sun her companion as she made her way toward Billy's shanty. She'd put off this final visit as long as possible, but knew she needed to see him once more. This time there would be closure so she could move on with her life.

The swamp was different this morning, filled with the sound of life. Birds sang in the trees and creatures scurried amid the brush and foliage. Fish jumped and slapped the surface of the ponds as if joyously celebrating the end of the reign of the serpent.

As she walked, visions of those nights in Billy's arms haunted her, just as she knew the faces of the victims would haunt her, as well. It would take her a long time to be able to forget those faces and she hadn't even personally known them. For Billy, she was certain it would take an eternity for him to forget.

Walking across the bridge, she heard the sound of laughter emanating from the shanty. She wasn't sure who was there, but Billy's laughter was as familiar to her as her own heartbeat. Low and seductive, it beckoned her closer, yet made her want to run.

It was at that moment she realized Angelique had been right. She was hopelessly, helplessly in love with Billy Royce. The knowledge filled her with incredible joy and blistering rage. d.a.m.n him for making her love him. It was not supposed to have happened. She had been so confident that she could work as his legal counsel, verbally spar with his wit, make love to him and still not fall beneath the seductive spell he'd wrapped around her years before.

She'd been wrong. Billy was in her blood, seared into her heart, and she knew time would heal the wounds, but the scars would be there forever.

Billy answered her knock, the smile on his face instantly fading as he saw her. "Shelby," he said in surprise. "Come in."

She stepped inside to see Gator seated at the table, a can of grape soda in his hand. Parker sat on the floor nearby, a hand-held video game absorbing his total concentration.

"Ah, just the person I wanted to talk to," Gator said as he waved for her to sit down in the chair next to him.

"Me?" Shelby asked in surprise.

Gator nodded. "I want to know if you'll represent me if I get arrested for letting one of my dogs bite one of those infernal tax men."

Shelby bit the side of her cheek to stifle a smile. "Why don't you come see me in the next day or two and we'll see if we can't find somebody to handle your tax problem before you have to let your dog bite anyone."

Gator grunted, obviously satisfied by her answer. He swigged the last of his soda, then crushed the can with his good hand. He looked from Shelby to Billy, then stood. "Come on, Parker, let's you and me go for a little walk, let your daddy and the lawyer lady talk private-like."

All too soon Shelby found herself alone with Billy, his expression as always inscrutable. "I came to tell you I've spoken with Abe and all the charges against you have been dropped."

"From what you said to Gator, it sounds like you intend to stay here in Black Bayou," he observed.