The Bayou Girl
A Gathering of Shadows
For Shirley Jackson
Numquam oblivioni daberis
Stephen Sulkey
Chapter 1
With emerald-green eyes that seemed to miss very little, she stood silently at the edge of the woods bordering Pecan Hill. Twilight had settled gently over the estate, softening the grandeur of the old mansion until its white columns seemed almost to glow against the deepening blue of the evening sky. Ancient live oaks stretched their massive limbs over the property; their branches draped with long curtains of Spanish moss that swayed lazily in the warm Georgia breeze.
Growing up on the south side of Chicago, Mei-Ling Yao had seen countless photographs of grand antebellum homes. Coffee-table books, historical documentaries, museum exhibits—they had all attempted to capture the elegance of the old South. Yet no photograph had prepared her for seeing one in person.
Pecan Hill possessed a presence.
It stood not merely as a house but as a survivor, weathering generations of triumph and tragedy with quiet dignity. Time itself seemed reluctant to disturb it. Every column, every balcony, every carefully proportioned window whispered of another age, while the manicured gardens surrounding it reflected the devotion of someone determined to preserve its beauty.
Yet Mei-Ling had not traveled hundreds of miles to admire architecture.
She had come for the woman who lived inside.
Fear was not an emotion she experienced often. Years spent stalking predators through the streets of Chicago had taught her that hesitation frequently proved more dangerous than courage. Drug cartels, traffickers, murderers, and creatures that ordinary people never imagined had all crossed her path. Compared to those, an old Southern mansion inspired curiosity far more than apprehension.
She crossed the broad lawn without hesitation.
The air hung warm and heavy with the fragrance of magnolias, freshly cut grass, and rich earth still holding the memory of the afternoon sun. Somewhere beyond the tree line, cicadas had begun their nightly chorus while a mockingbird offered one final song before surrendering the evening to the creatures of darkness.
Her emerald eyes never left the mansion.
As she climbed the broad marble steps, she found herself wondering what kind of woman could inspire whispers throughout the supernatural world.
Some called Bedelia Marie Dubois a monster.
Others called her a myth.
Still others, speaking almost reverently, had begun calling her something else entirely.
The Dark Angel.
Mei-Ling intended to discover for herself which stories, if any, were true.
She reached the massive front door and rested one hand upon the polished brass handle.
Unlocked.
That surprised her only slightly.
A woman who feared visitors generally locked her doors.
A woman powerful enough to fear no one rarely bothers.
She pushed the door open and stepped inside.
The coolness of the great hall embraced her immediately, a welcome relief from the humid Georgia evening. Rich heart-pine floors gleamed beneath crystal chandeliers whose warm light danced across polished banisters and antique furnishings. Oil portraits watched silently from paneled walls, their painted eyes seeming to follow newcomers with the patient curiosity of another century. Somewhere deeper within the mansion, an old grandfather clock marked the passing seconds with a slow, dignified rhythm.
The house smelled faintly of beeswax, polished wood, old books, and fresh flowers.
It felt lived in.
Loved.
For several moments, Mei-Ling simply stood in silence, absorbing every detail.
There was wealth here, certainly.
But there was also history.
Unlike so many mansions that had become museums, Pecan Hill remained alive. It carried the quiet confidence of a home whose owner cherished every room rather than merely displaying it.
She smiled almost imperceptibly.
The stories had been correct.
This was exactly the sort of place she imagined an ancient vampire might choose.
Then she stepped farther into the mansion, searching for the woman she had traveled so far to meet.
She had gone only a short distance when instinct stopped her.
Someone was standing to her right.
She turned.
The woman regarded her with calm blue eyes, showing neither surprise nor concern.
Only curiosity.
Long black hair fell gracefully over her shoulders, framing a face of remarkable beauty. Even standing perfectly still, she projected quiet authority. There was nothing theatrical about her presence. She simply possessed the effortless confidence of someone who had not been intimidated in a very, very long time.
Mei-Ling knew immediately.
She had found Bedelia Marie Dubois.
The woman took a few unhurried steps forward, the soft click of her heels echoing across the polished hardwood floor. She stopped at a comfortable distance, studying the stranger with quiet curiosity. There was no alarm in her expression. After nearly three centuries of existence, Bedelia Marie Dubois had learned that panic rarely solved a mystery, and this young woman interested her far more than she threatened her.
"Do you always walk into people's houses without knocking or being announced?" she asked.
There was no fear or irritation in her voice. If anything, she sounded faintly amused.
The emerald-eyed visitor offered a gentle smile and inclined her head ever so slightly.
"My apologies. I have a tendency to be overly direct."
The dark-haired woman returned the nod.
"I can appreciate that. I've been known to be direct myself."
A faint smile touched Bedelia's lips. The statement was almost comical in its understatement.
"So, mysterious woman who walks into other people's homes, do you have a name?"
"Yes. My name is Mei-Ling Yao."
"Ah."
Bedelia studied her more carefully now. The young woman carried herself with remarkable composure. There was neither arrogance nor nervousness about her, only quiet confidence. She had encountered people with that demeanor before—soldiers, scholars, explorers, and once, many years ago, the daughter of a wealthy Shanghai merchant who had possessed the same calm certainty.
"I suspected you might be Chinese," Bedelia said, "but I've learned not to make assumptions."
"I appreciate that."
"Are you from China?"
Mei-Ling smiled.
"No. I'm actually from the south side of Chicago."
Bedelia laughed softly, the sound warm enough to ease whatever tension might have existed between them.
Well, that explains why your English is flawless and why you sound nothing like someone from Georgia."
"I suppose it does."
For a brief moment, silence settled over the great hall. Somewhere deeper within the mansion, the old grandfather clock announced another passing minute. Outside, the evening chorus of cicadas drifted faintly through the tall windows.
Bedelia folded her hands before her.
"Do you know who I am?"
Mei-Ling never looked away.
"Yes."
"And who might that be?"
“You are the dark terror of the night. You are the one so many in the night are beginning to fear."
That brought a genuine grin to Bedelia's face.
"Oh, am I?"
"Yes. You are Bedelia Marie Dubois. A vampire. And from everything I have heard, a very remarkable vampire."
Bedelia's smile widened.
"I see my reputation has preceded me. I'm not entirely certain whether that's a good thing or a bad thing."
Mei-Ling allowed her gaze to wander briefly around the magnificent entry hall. Crystal light shimmered across polished wood and antique furnishings before she looked back at the woman standing before her.
"In your case," she said quietly, "I believe it is a very good thing."
"Well then."
Bedelia spread her hands slightly.
"Tell me, Mei-Ling Yao. Why have you come to Pecan Hill, and what can I do for you?"
"I have come to be your companion, in a way," Mei-Ling said. "I have come to learn from you."
That answer intrigued Bedelia more than she cared to admit.
She took one slow step closer.
Without appearing obvious, she drew a quiet breath.
Every living thing possessed its own scent. Humans carried subtle traces of soap, perfume, perspiration, and the countless aromas of everyday life. Vampires were unmistakable to one another. Over nearly three centuries, Bedelia had learned to identify much about a person from the air alone.
She frowned ever so slightly.
"No," she said thoughtfully. "You are not a vampire. I can tell that much."
Her blue eyes narrowed with growing curiosity.
"But you're not quite human either."
For the first time since the encounter began, Bedelia found herself genuinely puzzled.
She loved mysteries.
And at that moment, one was standing directly before her.
"So," Bedelia continued, slowly circling Mei-Ling, her blue eyes never leaving the younger woman, "you're not a vampire, and you're not human. Are you a werewolf?"
She paused thoughtfully.
"I've never actually smelled a werewolf before. I've heard they possess a rather unpleasant odor. A wet dog smell."
She drew another quiet breath.
"But you don't smell unpleasant at all."
A faint smile touched her lips.
"You smell like jasmine."
Mei-Ling's own smile broadened.
"As a matter of fact, I do wear jasmine perfume."
Bedelia laughed softly.
"Well, then I approve. It is a lovely scent."
She pointed playfully toward her visitor.
"You must tell me where you buy it. I may need a bottle of my own."
That earned another smile.
"I would be happy to."
"Good."
Bedelia clasped her hands behind her back and stopped circling.
"Now then, back to the matter at hand."
Her eyes sparkled with unmistakable curiosity.
"If you are not a vampire, not a werewolf, and not entirely human, then who exactly is standing in my foyer?"
For several moments, Mei-Ling remained silent.
The great hall seemed almost to hold its breath with her.
The grandfather clock ticked quietly somewhere beyond the room. Outside, the evening breeze whispered through the Spanish moss hanging from the ancient oaks surrounding Pecan Hill.
Finally, Mei-Ling met Bedelia's gaze without the slightest hesitation.
"My people have many names," she said quietly. "In China, legends speak of us one way. In Korea and Japan, another. Here in America, most people have never heard of us at all."
Bedelia's smile faded into attentive curiosity.
"And what do you call yourselves?"
For just an instant, Mei-Ling's emerald eyes seemed almost to glow in the chandelier light.
"We are the Tiger People," she said. "The Línghǔ Zú."
For perhaps the first time since Mei-Ling had entered the mansion, Bedelia looked genuinely surprised.
She considered the unfamiliar name carefully.
"The Tiger People?" she repeated. "Is that the same thing as the Cat People? I believe I've heard stories."
Mei-Ling smiled.
"Well...Siberian tigers are cats."
Bedelia laughed.
"Yes, I suppose they are."
Her smile widened.
"Very large and exceedingly dangerous cats."
She tilted her head ever so slightly.
"And from what I've heard, occasionally very unpleasant cats."
A flicker of amusement crossed Mei-Ling's face.
"But you do not look like a cat, Mei-Ling. At the moment, you look like a beautiful young woman standing in my great hall."
Bedelia folded her arms.
"So, if you are one of these Tiger People..."
She smiled.
"...how exactly do you become a tiger?"
Mei-Ling answered without speaking a single word.
She simply closed her eyes.
Nothing happened.
For a heartbeat.
Then another.
A thin ribbon of white mist appeared around her feet, curling across the polished floor like morning fog drifting over a quiet lake.
Bedelia's smile disappeared.
Not from concern.
From fascination.
The mist thickened.
It climbed gracefully around Mei-Ling's body, swirling in slow, silent spirals until it concealed her completely. Unlike the black smoke of a vampire's transformation, this mist seemed almost pure. It shimmered with a soft white radiance, as though woven from moonlight itself.
Bedelia had witnessed vampires transform many times during her long existence.
She had never seen anything remotely like this.
The cloud expanded until it occupied the center of the great hall, a glowing wall of white through which nothing could be seen.
Then, just as silently, it began to dissolve.
A shape emerged.
Large.
Powerful.
Magnificent.
As the last ribbons of mist drifted away, an enormous Siberian tiger stood where Mei-Ling had stood only moments before.
The creature was breathtaking.
Nearly nine hundred pounds of perfectly balanced muscle moved with astonishing grace. Its striped coat gleamed beneath the crystal chandeliers like polished gold and ivory, while brilliant emerald eyes regarded Bedelia with unmistakable intelligence.
For several long moments, neither of them moved.
Bedelia simply stared.
Then, quite unexpectedly...
She smiled.
Benjamin's suffering had cast a shadow over Pecan Hill. Every day seemed to bring another reminder of his slow decline, and she had found herself carrying a weight she rarely allowed anyone to see.
Yet standing before her now was something she had not experienced in a very long time.
Wonder.
This extraordinary young woman had walked unannounced into her home and, within minutes, shown her something entirely new.
Nearly three centuries of existence.
Thousands upon thousands of nights.
And still...
The world retained the ability to surprise her.
Bedelia loved that.
"I see what you are now," she said softly.
The great tiger inclined its massive head.
"Well then..."
Bedelia gestured warmly toward the rest of the mansion.
"Welcome to Pecan Hill."
She nodded.
"I believe I can offer you refuge here, if that is what you seek. Afterward, perhaps we can discuss what it is you hope to learn from me."
Her familiar sense of humor returned almost immediately.
"Although I suspect our conversation will be considerably easier if you are not a tiger."
She folded her hands with exaggerated patience.
"Otherwise, I shall be forced to do all the talking while you growl."
The tiger's emerald eyes narrowed ever so slightly, as though amused.
Once again, white mist flowed around the great cat.
It wrapped itself around the animal like living silk before slowly dissolving.
Moments later, Mei-Ling Yao stood exactly where the tiger had been.
Elegant.
Calm.
Smiling.
To an ordinary human being, discovering an unknown woman wandering through one's home would almost certainly have ended with a frantic call to the police—or, in parts of Georgia, the appearance of a shotgun.
But Bedelia Marie Dubois had long ago ceased being ordinary.
And she had certainly ceased being human.
More importantly, she had needed this.
Though she would never admit it aloud, she had been searching for something to lift the darkness that had settled over Pecan Hill. Benjamin's condition occupied nearly every waking thought, and even an immortal soul could grow weary beneath that burden.
Now fate had delivered an impossible mystery to her front door.
A beautiful young woman.
A tiger.
And perhaps...
A new friend.
Bedelia found herself looking forward to whatever happened next.
At that precise moment, another presence entered the great hall.
Both women turned.
Estelle stood in the doorway, her eyes moving slowly from Mei-Ling to Bedelia, her expression a mixture of confusion and curiosity.
"Who is she?" she asked.
The newcomer gave a slight bow.
"My name is Mei-Ling Yao."
She smiled politely.
"Although in Chinese it would properly be Yao Mei-Ling. Please...just call me Mei-Ling."
Estelle walked toward her, curiosity overcoming caution.
Like Bedelia, she drew a discreet breath.
Her supernatural senses confirmed exactly what Bedelia had already discovered.
"You're not a vampire."
"No," Mei-Ling replied. "We've already established that."
Her answer was delivered with such quiet courtesy that Estelle couldn't help smiling.
"Then what are you?"
"I am one of the Tiger People."
"A tiger person?"
Estelle looked from Mei-Ling to Bedelia.
Bedelia, unfortunately, appeared to be enjoying herself far too much.
"She's telling the truth," Bedelia said, unable to suppress her smile. "A few moments ago, she transformed into a tiger roughly the size of a small automobile."
Mei-Ling laughed softly.
"That may be a slight exaggeration."
"Barely."
Estelle's eyes moved back and forth between them.
"You really turned into a tiger?"
"Yes."
"But you're not a vampire."
"No."
"You're something else entirely."
"That would be accurate."
Estelle folded her arms, studying Mei-Ling with open fascination.
In the short time since becoming a vampire, she had learned the world contained far more mysteries than she had ever imagined. Ancient vampires. Demons. Spirits of the dead. Now...
Tiger People.
Her world continued to grow larger by the day.
"Are you immortal?"
Mei-Ling shook her head.
"No. My people live much longer than humans. Many survive well beyond a century, but we are not immortal."
"And you don't drink blood?"
"No."
"You eat regular food?"
"Yes."
Estelle nodded thoughtfully.
"Huh."
For several moments, she searched for another question, only to discover she had no idea what to ask a tiger.
Finally, she shrugged.
"So...what brings you here?"
Before Mei-Ling could answer, Bedelia stepped in.
She had no intention of repeating the entire conversation.
"Mei-Ling is my guest."
Estelle looked at her.
"Your guest?"
"Yes."
Bedelia smiled warmly.
"She'll be staying with us for a while."
That immediately changed everything.
"Really?"
"Really."
Bedelia's smile widened ever so slightly.
"In fact, I suspect you're going to enjoy her company."
Estelle raised an eyebrow.
"Oh?"
"Certainly."
Bedelia gestured toward the rear of the mansion.
"You enjoy spending time with Buttons."
"I do."
"Well then..."
She began counting on her fingers.
"One black panther."
Another finger.
"One vampire who occasionally becomes a black panther."
A third finger.
"And one enormous Siberian tiger."
The image amused her enormously.
"The three of you can spend your evenings racing around the grounds together."
Estelle burst into laughter.
"I somehow don't think Buttons is going to appreciate becoming the smallest one."
"No," Bedelia agreed with a grin.
"Probably not."
Then her expression became solemn—at least, as solemn as Bedelia could manage while suppressing laughter.
"I have only one rule."
Both women looked at her expectantly.
"If the three of you decide to play..."
She paused dramatically.
"...do it outside."
"Outside?" Estelle repeated.
"Outside."
Bedelia swept one hand around the elegant great hall.
"I have invested far too much money restoring this house to discover that a tiger and two panthers have decided to play tag through my living room."
She glanced meaningfully toward an antique table.
"I am particularly fond of that one."
Silence hung in the room for a heartbeat.
Then all three women laughed.
For the first time in many days, the laughter echoed freely through Pecan Hill, replacing, if only for a little while, the quiet sadness that Benjamin's illness had cast over the old mansion.
Bedelia noticed.
She said nothing.
But she treasured the moment all the same.