Page 2 of Beast of the Bayou

"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?"

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.