Chapter 8: Lila - Beast of the Bayou

I wake up from a restful sleep with a smile on my face. I had been tossing and turning for hours last night thinking about Solomon. When I finally did get to sleep, I had a sex dream about him so vivid, that when I got up, I couldn't help but to slide my hands down and rub the tension out. It's so weird, but it was almost like I could feel him right outside my door. For second I thought I could even hear his heartbeat and breathing.

I've had men I've been deeply attracted to, but nothing like this. It's like I can feel him underneath my skin. I can smell him—woodsy and rich, even when he's all the way on the other side of the house. And if I pause and focus, I think I can even hear his heartbeat too.

It's not just the physical attraction either. There's this weird protective instinct that I feel towards him. I want to shield him from all pain. Bring light back into his eyes. It's only been a little over a week since I've been here and already I feel like I never want to leave him.

I don't know how to sort through these feelings. All I know is that each day that goes by, the feelings grow stronger. I'm not sure how much longer I can be around him and not want him in every way.

I take a hot shower and prepare for the day. I wear my hair down and curl into barrel curls that I comb out so it's nice and wavy. I tuck one side behind my ear and secure it with a crystal hairclip. I put on a little makeup, and slip into a white and pink sundress.

Looking in the mirror, I smile at my reflection. I feel pretty and relaxed. Something shifted last night and it feels like I know in my heart that everything is going to be okay. Slipping into a pair of white sandals, I spray on a little perfume and walk towards the door. Edgar is waiting when I open it.

"Hi, handsome boy." I smile, crouching down to pet him. "Were you waiting for me to get up?" He meows softly and I half expect him to respond. Straightening, I place my hand on the wall to adjust my sandal. But instead of the smoothness of the wall, I feel marks there. Marks that weren't there when I went into my room last night.

Looking over, I jerk my hand back when I see what looks like claw marks dragging a short path down. My stomach dips.  "What the hell?" I lean in to inspect closer. Carefully, I reach out and touch them. "This doesn't make sense," I mumble in disbelief. "What would leave marks like this?"

Edgar meows behind me. I look down at him and he's looking up at me like he has the answer. I shake my head. "Do you know what did this?"

His head tilts, and he meows again.

My brows pinch in question. "This is crazy. But why does it feel like you understand me?"

He places his paw on my foot, and meows again.

Crouching down, I stare into his expressive eyes. "You do, don't you? You understand me."

Edgar meows again. And then—he fucking nods. The cat fucking nods and I gasp so loud I almost choke.

"What—What the hell?" I drop to my knees staring deep into his hypnotic eyes. "You understand me?"

He meows, and nods again.

"How is this possible?" I shake my head in shock. "Are you like a magic cat? Am I still asleep? This is dream, isn't it?"

A nip on my finger from him quickly lets me know that this is real. Very real. As real as the claw marks and the screams in the distance I heard last night.

My hands fly to my mouth, eyes wide. "Jesus Christ." I'm momentarily too stunned to speak. Edgar and I just stare at each other. He waits patiently for me to speak and I try to get my heart to stop doing jumping jacks in my chest. "So…this is like some magic shit, right?"

Edgar nods.

"And…you know what put those marks?"

He pauses. Then nods again.  Twice.

I exhale a shaky breath. "Is it something here that wants to hurt me?" I ask softly.

He shakes his head.

"That's good. So I'm safe here," I mumble to myself looking down for a second. Bringing my eyes back to him, I ask carefully. "What made the marks?"

Edgar meows, and his head turns down the hallway. Then he begins to walk off.

"You want me to follow you?" I ask. He turns and stops. "Guess that's a yes." Standing, I follow him down the hallway. Edgar stops in front of Solomon's door and places his paw on it. He meows again. "Solomon put the marks there?" I whisper.

Edgar stares at me, unblinking.

I wait, barely able to breathe waiting for him to confirm. He nods once, and I almost fall on my ass from shock. Suddenly, the things Solomon has said begins to replay in my mind:

"Your feet are bleeding."

"I have a very sensitive nose."

"You smell nervous."

"You think I'm some kind of…beast?"

And finally…the whispers of The Beast of the Bayou.

Of course I had heard the rumors. You can't live in this town and not hear them. I lied when I told him I hadn't. Didn't want to hurt his feelings. Plus, I've never been one to listen to rumors or gossip. I had too much on my plate to worry about.

But now here I am—with claw marks on the walls and a goddamn magic cat confirming that the rumors are indeed true.

My whole body feels coiled. My stomach tightens and my voice comes out hushed when I ask. "What is he, Edgar?"

Edgar doesn’t move. His eyes hold mine.

"Lila?"

The sound of Solomon's voice above me sends my last nerves spiraling. I stumble backwards towards the stairs in fear. I try to catch the railing as I feel the back of my heels hit the first step. My heart leaps to my throat and a scream falls out of my mouth. And just before I'm about to tumble down the stairs—

Solomon catches me with an unnatural speed. His strong arm wraps around my waist and pulls me flush against him. My hands press against his chest bracing myself. My heart is pounding. My breath is short and frantic.

He's looking down at me, his concerned eyes now ringed with an amber glow. I can feel his heart thudding under my palm just as hard as mine. And his smell…it surrounds me. Cloaking me in this intoxicating scent that makes my head feel light, but also makes me want to press my nose against his chest and inhale deeply.

He blinks, and the amber is gone. Almost like I imagined it.

"Are you okay?" he asks searching my eyes.

"No—no. I'm not okay." I push out of his arms. "Something is weird here." I shake my head taking a careful step back.

"What is going on out here?" Ms. Lenora rushes out of her room tying her robe tightly around her body. She stops and looks between us before her eyes settle on me. "Lila, you okay, mon chérie." She tries to reach out and touch me, but I step out of her reach.

"No. Don't 'mon chérie' me." I point at her accusingly. "Something is weird in this house and y'all aren't telling me. The damn cat understands me." I point to Edgar. "There are claw marks by my door—" I point towards my room. "and…you." I point to Solomon whose eyes are shifting away from mine. My voice softens. "There's something weird about you."

"He's not weird," Ms. Lenora says firmly, But then her voice softens. "He's just different."

"Just different?" I scoff.

Solomon's deep voice interrupts me in a brisk tone. "If you want to leave, you can." Before I can respond, he walks back into his room and slams the door, the sharp sound making me jump.

Ms. Lenora looks down at Edgar, her eyes narrowed in irritation. "You and I will talk later," she warns him.

Edgar gives her a bored expression before slinking down the stairs.

"So he really does understand us?" I ask.

She turns to me and lets out a soft sigh. "He does. Way more than you know."

I touch her arm. "Ms. Lenora, there's something you haven't told me. Please…just tell me. What am I in the middle of? What is Solomon?"

Her eyes drop down and she folds her fingers in front of her. " Solomon is a very loving, caring, and protective young man. He is the last of his kind in his bloodline."

"His kind? What does that even mean?"

She brings her eyes back to mine. She doesn't speak right away, just searches my eyes. Finally, she says, "How do you feel about him?"

The question takes me by surprise. I'm not even sure I can explain it but I try my best. "Drawn to him—weirdly. Since the first day to be honest. It feels like my body just…yearns for him. I dream about him every night. Last night was the worst. I can even smell him." I shake my head. "Even when he's not around. I want to protect him too. None of it makes sense, Ms. Lenora."

"It makes perfect sense to me when you understand the history." She takes my hand. "Let me show you something."

I follow her to the smaller staircase on the other side of the hallway. The one that leads to the third floor. I stop in my tracks, a chill coming over me. "You said it was forbidden."

Lenora looks back at me. "It's alright. It's time you know the truth." She gives my hand a squeeze and pulls me forward. My legs feel like lead but I follow her upstairs. When we reach the third floor, she leads me to the last door at the end of the hallway. Letting my hand go, she stoops down and removes a floorboard. Reaching in, she pulls out a bronze key and unlocks the door.

The hinges groan as she pushes it in. I instantly feel an overwhelming feeling of sadness pushing down on me. Tears prick my eyes. I press my hand to my mouth to suppress the sob that wants to come out. Without even being told, I know that this is the last room Lucinda was alive in. A breeze billows the faded floral curtains, but the windows are closed.

I hesitate at the door as my heartbeat kicks up.

"It's alright. You're safe." Ms. Lenora reassures me. She takes my hand again. Reluctantly, I allow myself to be led inside.

The room smells old. Dust floats through the thin streams of sunlight coming through the curtains. A large four poster bed sits against the far wall, covered in a matching faded blanket. An antique vanity stands near the window, and paintings line the wall.

"This was where he would lock her whenever she made him upset." Ms. Lenora looks around sadly. "Poor dear. She spent a lot of time in here, unfortunately. I tried to make it as comfortable as possible."

I wipe my wet eyes letting out a shaky breath. "You did a good job." I whisper, scared to even speak at my normal level.

Ms. Lenora plucks a gold frame off the dresser and brings it over to me. A beautiful young Black woman is proudly holding a baby swaddled in a powder blue blanket. "This was her. Lucinda Mourne."

I stare down at her. "She was gorgeous." I can see Solomon in her eyes.

"Mmhm." Ms. Lenora smiles fondly. "That was the day she brought him home from the hospital. He was beautiful. Brown as the earth and as chunky as a Butterball."

We share a quiet laugh before she gently places the frame back. "Lucinda was eighteen when her father arranged her marriage to Stanford. He was considerably older—30. A doctor. Wealthy and respected. Her father saw the marriage as an opportunity to bring more money and influence into the family."

My nose turns up. "That's horrible. She was just a baby."

Ms. Lenora nods. "She was." She walks toward an old writing desk and touches the dusty surface as she continues. "He expected her to give him an heir. But years passed and she couldn’t become pregnant. Nothing was wrong with her womb. She was young and healthy.  But for some reason, it just wouldn’t happen. He called her spoiled goods."

"That's awful." I shake my head.

"He was an awful man." She reaches inside and removes several worn leather journals. "He blamed her of course. Became even more cold and controlling. And when Lucinda couldn't give him the son he so desperately wanted, the marriage became even more miserable for her." Ms. Lenora hands me one of the journals. "These are her diaries."

I touch the cover delicately. "Why are you showing me this?"

"Because you need to understand what's happening. I think the same thing that happened to Lucinda is happening to you."

My stomach sinks.

She opens the diary and faded cursive stares up at me. "Lucinda eventually met someone." She turns a few pages. "A handsome stranger a few years older than her. He came to Bayou Mourne and had taken an interest in the town. Lucinda wrote that he felt led here. Nobody knew much about him except he was bigger and taller than all the men in town. He kept to himself. One day when Lucinda was out doing some shopping—she noticed him." Ms. Lenora's eyes meet mine. "And he noticed her."

I look down at the faded handwriting:

I've never been this drawn to someone in my life.

"What was his name?" I ask.

Ms. Lenora pauses. "His name was never written."

I frown. "Why?"

"She wanted to protect him." She turns a few more pages. "He wasn't like other men. He could hear things from impossible distances. He could sense when she was afraid. Nervous. And Lucinda said she could feel him even when he wasn't near. She described it as a feeling of him being under her skin."

My heartbeat quickens.

"She was enamored by him," Ms. Lenora continues. "So strongly that she couldn't explain it. She could even smell him from a distance."

I look back up at her. "Could she…hear his heartbeat?" I whisper.

She nods slowly. "His breathing too. Recognized the pattern of his footsteps. She said being near him made her body react before her mind could catch up."

My breath catches.

Ms. Lenora's voice softens. "She wanted to protect him too, more than anything."

I stare down at the words again which are now blurred by the tears in my eyes. "Did she know what he was?" I croak out.

Ms. Lenora rests her hand on my forearm. "She eventually did."

My head lifts and I stare at her through foggy vision. My pulse is thrumming and my nerves are shot. But I have to know the truth. I swallow. "What was he?" I whisper.

She lets out a slow breathe, her eyes holding mine. "…A werewolf."

"A werewolf?" The room tilts beneath my feet. "So Solomon…"

"Was born with the same blood." Lenora closes the diary and takes it from me.

I grip the edge of the desk to steady myself. "How is this even real? I thought things like this only existed in movies."

"Oh, mon chérie, just because you can't see it, doesn't mean it isn't real."

I can't even respond. Words are lost in my throat. My mind scrambles to make sense of it all. A werewolf

But Ms. Lenora continues, "Lucinda and that man fell deeply in love. Their relationship was brief, but intense. She finally knew what it felt like to be loved by someone who saw her as more than an heir producing wife."

"What happened?"

"Well…they made a plan to run away from Bayou Mourne together. Lucinda was pregnant by then. Her lover said he would take care of Stanford for her, but that sweet girl didn’t have it in her heart to see him hurt. Even though he hurt her."

I hold my breath, my fingers still curled around the desk.

Ms. Lenora's voice grows quieter. "The night they planned to leave…it all went to hell. Stanford found out. He had paid men to watch her. They were ambushed before they could leave. Her lover fought. Killed two of Stanford's men easily. In the melee, Stanford managed to inject him with a sedative that weakened him. After that…he couldn't fight them all."

I press a shaky hand to my chest, an impending sense of doom washing over me.

"They killed him. Cut his head right off him. Then tossed him in the swamp. She was forced to watch it all happen." Ms. Lenora looks at the photo on the dresser again, her voice soaked in sadness. "It does something to the heart when you have to watch the only man you've ever loved die right in front of you. Lucinda felt hopeless. Alone."

Tears spill from my eyes. I think about Solomon. Silence fills the room.

Ms. Lenora wipes her eyes. "Poor thing. Afterwards, Stanford dragged her to the car kicking and screaming. Locked her in this room heartbroken and told her he would raise the baby as his own. Her father…" Ms. Lenora lets out a bitter snort. "Waste of a man. He just went right along with it. Didn't want to tarnish the family's name." She reaches for another diary. A blue leather cover. "This one begins after Solomon was born. Right around the time she hired me on. It's a hard read. A mother's love and the fear for her child. Stanford wasn't kind to Solomon."

"Did he hurt him?" I ask.

"He didn't spare the rod, I'll tell you that much."

My heart breaks even more. "How old was he when he started…"

"Seven." Ms. Lenora fills in. "That was when the signs first started appearing. His eyes changed. His hearing and sense of smell became heightened. He got stronger. Faster. It angered Stanford. Made him bitter and vengeful." She turns to the last page of the diary and shows me. "This was her last entry."

I think he's going to kill me. I have to protect my son.

Her voice lowers. "She sent me to the store even though we had a freezer full of food. Told me to take Solomon with me and get him some ice cream and a burger from the diner. She must've known. When we came back, he called out to her. Wanted to show her his new toy. He tried to run to the third floor, but something felt wrong in my spirit. So I sent him out back to play…and that's when I found them. Her right on this bed—" she points to the bed. "And him right outside." She points to the door. "Lord, I'll never forget that day. The way he cried." Tears spill down her cheeks. "I thought he would never stop."

Rubbing my chest, I fight past the burn in my throat to speak. "Ms. Lenora, what does this all mean?"

She takes my hands. "I think you know, Lila. You feel it. You both do. You coming to this town wasn’t by chance. Me looking for help. You seeing that ad. None of it was coincidental. It was all fated. You were led here. To Bayou Mourne. To him."

"I-I…" I choke on my words.

"Shhh." Ms. Lenora rubs the tops of my hands slowly. "Don't try to figure it out now. It's a lot to process. But just know that destiny has a funny way of putting you exactly where you need to be, and who you need to be with."