Chapter 1: Solomon Mourne - Beast of the Bayou

I smell blood. Warm, metallic and thick enough to coat the back of my throat. I can hear her heart racing and smell the fear that consumes her. Then the screaming comes. High pitched and blood-curdling.

My mother's.

I run toward it, but my feet won't move. I'm trapped in the hallway, staring at the door at the end of it. The same door I've seen hundreds of times in my dreams. It flies open and she stumbles through it. Blood covers the front of her dress. Her eyes find mine. Her mouth doesn’t move but I hear her voice screaming in my head:

"SOLOMON!"

The gunshot cracks through from the darkened room and I can see the muzzle flash. Her body jerks forward as she falls down. Bloody hands reach for me. I keep trying, desperately, to get to her as she fights for her life.

My mouth is open. I'm screaming but nothing is coming out. My face is soaked with tears, my body stiff from the strain of trying to force myself forward.

A shadowy figure emerges from the room. I see the gun being raised once more. I scream soundlessly.

BOOM!

I jerk awake. My chest rises and falls fast beneath the tangled sheets. My heart is pounding hard enough to hurt. For a few seconds, I don't know where I am. Then realization settles in. I'm in my bedroom in my house.

Dragging my hand down my face, I sit up. Another nightmare. My eyes flick to the open window and I see the crescent moon against the black sky. I stare at it a moment before my gaze strays to the mirror across from me. My features are cloaked in darkness, all except one. Glowing amber surrounds my brown irises.  Looking away, I lay back down. Morning will be here soon.

***

My ears twitch slightly as the warmth of the sun awakens me. The smell of rich black coffee mingles with the familiar scent of her perfume. From down the hallway, I can hear two sets of footsteps. Soft, padded ones, and a more shuffled one that makes my stomach drop. Her knees are bothering her. Another indication that my beloved Lenora is getting old.

The two voices are whispering trying their best to keep their tone low so that I can't hear. Impossible. I can hear everything, including things I would prefer not to. Things such as this conversation:

"He won't be happy about this, Nora," Edgar purrs.

"Oh he'll be fine. This big ole mansion. I can't tend to it on my own like I used to."

"No one in this town is brave enough to come here, you know that."

"You lack faith, Edgar. I believe that there is someone out there who is just what this house needs. And just what he needs. You just watch and see. Now hush up before he hears us."

Too late. My brows furrow in question as I sit up. When the doors open, I'm already in my robe and slippers sitting at my table. Waiting.

Edgar slinks in first, his golden eyes blinking slowly as he jumps up on the chair across from me.

Lenora smiles instantly when she sees me. "Oh, you're awake. Good morning."

"Good morning," I respond. Her hands are shaking slightly and I frown. They were steady yesterday. Rising quickly, I take the silver tray holding my breakfast from her.

"Thank you." She exhales, rubbing her hands with a sheepish smile. "My hands are a little stiff."

Setting the tray down, my eyes zero in on them. "Are you okay, Lenora?"

She gives me that comforting smile that always settles me. "I'm fine. Now sit and eat." She pats my cheek lovingly.

Reluctantly I sit, but I keep my eyes on her. Lenora begins to busy herself fixing my bed. Picking up my coffee, my eyes flick to Edgar's. My elder and confidant. Edgar came to me at a point in my life when I had no one to turn to—after the death of my parents. He quite literally just wandered into my life and has been my companion ever since. He lazily grooms himself, his fluffy gray fur immaculate from the tediousness of it.

"Morning, Edgar."

He pauses his grooming to look at me. "You had another nightmare?" he asks instead.

I let out a slow breath. "I did. Was I loud?"

He shakes his head. "No more than usual."

I sigh. "They're happening more frequently."

"Perhaps your mother is trying to get a message to you."

"Maybe." My eyes stray to the painting on my wall created by my mother. A full moon high above weeping willows and the swamp.

"Solomon?' Lenora's voice cuts through my thoughts.

I turn to her. "Ma'am?"

Shuffling over, she places her hand on my shoulder. "We have to talk, mon chéri."

"Does it have something to do with that conversation you two were whispering about?"

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She and Edgar share a look. "It's alright, Lenora. You can tell me." I reassure her.

"It's nothing terrible," she says giving Edgar another look.

His tail flicks once. "Insignificant, really," he chimes in.

I raise a brow, waiting.

"I just need some help around here."

I glance around the room. Everything is exactly where it belongs. Although the house is vast—eight bedrooms, seven baths and three floors, Lenora somehow manages to keep it spotless. To be fair, I don't venture to every part, preferring to stay in my own wing; but I'm sure I wouldn't have a complaint if I did.

"You've managed just fine," I reply.

"Yes. For 27 years," she reminds me. "And I'm tired." She rubs her hands again as the words settle between us.

I study her face. There are more lines around her eyes than I remember. There's more silver threaded through her dark hair which she keeps twisted neatly at the nape of her neck. And of course the walk. The steady, proud steps that are now a slower shuffle.

My tone softens. "You should've told me. I would've…done something. Gotten you a better doctor."

"A doctor can't stop aging, mon chéri," she replies softly.

Sighing, I stand and take her hand. "Sit. Please."

Lenora sits down slowly, her hand still in mine as I stand over her. "You know I can't have a stranger in my home, Lenora. It's too…dangerous. What if I—"

Her grip on my hands tightens, suddenly halting my words. She stares up into my eyes. "What if you what—hmm? Open up? Make a friend? Trust someone?"

My jaw tightens.

Open up?

Make a friend?

Trust?

What was that? I had been in isolation for so long, I wasn't even sure if I knew how to behave around "normal" people. And trust—who could I ever trust with my truth? There wasn't a soul in this world who could handle it.

Lenora grabs my other hand, her voice sharp with conviction. "Just because you are what you are, Solomon, it doesn't mean that you don’t have the capacity to still love. Or that there isn't someone out there who will love you just as much as we do. You're not a monster, you hear me? I don't care what them folks in town say."

My tense shoulders drop at her words. Licking my lips, I nod.  "Thank you."

She smiles warmly. "Now—me and Edgar here will make sure we find you a nice and kind woman who—"

"A woman?" I echo, sliding my hands out of hers. My head is already shaking. Lenora is the only woman I've been around since my mother passed. I know her scent. It's familiar. Maternal. Safe. But to have another woman in my home—

To smell one.

A fresh…ripe one. I'm not sure if I can handle it.

Already I can feel my canines protruding at the thought. Saliva fills my mouth. I swallow thickly. "I don't think I can do that."

Lenora nods slowly. With a sigh, she tilts her head in thought. "Well…if you prefer…I can bring in a man. Although I know you're not too fond of the scent last I recall." She gives me a knowing look.

The plumber. The last man who was brave enough to step inside my home. I almost ripped his throat out when I smelled him.

My tongue rolls under my teeth, the sharp tips of my canines nicking it. I suck the saltiness of the blood drops before continuing. "Alright. I suppose a woman will have to do," I concede reluctantly.

Lenora jumps up surprising me with her excitement. I can't help but to smile. She beams, hands clasped together. "This will be wonderful, won't it, Edgar?" She glances at him. "A brand new houseguest to liven up this place."

Edgar flicks his tail lazily, his eyes blinking slowly. "I'm glowing with excitement," he drawls.