Desecrating Solomon: Book 1 of 3 (Desecration Series)

by Lucian Bane

  Of course it was all silly. To be friends with a possum’s ear bones.

  During the Waking training she’d had the first nightmare. Master was patiently spraying her naked body for hours with a special hose. The icy water spikes pierced her skin while she hung in the shackles. It had felt like angry ants on fire. She’d lost consciousness and dreamed she was tied to the ant bed with the baby possum. She couldn’t move or speak, but she was alive. All she could do was cry and they didn’t care or notice because it was just soul fluids. The ants ate her like ants are supposed to, ate her until there was nothing left, while she died slowly and quietly like the possum had.

  It was a tormenting nightmare because as real and terrifying as the pain was, the dream was the only connection she had left with the animal. She wasn’t sure how but the possum had become a part of her. A her she didn’t really know but… maybe wanted to.

  But for the first time, the nightmare was different. While she cried quietly and screamed silently, somebody heard. A person knelt next to her that she couldn’t see and took hold of her hand. It was a he. A he that hummed so very softly.

  The terror melted away along with the ties that held her down. She floated up into the air, into the warm sunlight where there were no ants, no fear, no pain. Just the sun’s rays, cradling her and the baby possum.

  And that voice. She realized finally that it was familiar. Maybe the voice belonged to the sun because it possessed the same warmth. It was soft, yet strong and sure, like the rays after a storm. It was unlike anything she’d ever heard or experienced.

  ****

  Exhaustion claimed Solomon and he lay his head on the bed while holding her hand. At some point the sound of her whimpers woke him. She needed more medicine but when he’d try to unlatch her hand from his to get up and get it, her grip turned desperate.

  Staying put, he sat there, feeling helpless and useless. He realized then that she was dreaming. No doubt about what happened to her. The bright idea to sing came to him. But what song? There was only one he knew entirely and it had at one time been his favorite.

  Keeping his voice low so as not to startle her, he sang it. And to his shock, it seemed to be working. He could feel it with every second, her small fingers slowly relaxing. When she seemed to be resting, Solomon stared at her lopsided face, his gut clenching as usual. Out of ideas, he decided to do the one thing he’d given up on. Going over each body part he’d called out to her earlier when assessing the damage, he prayed for it. At this point, it couldn’t hurt.

  After playing Saint Peter, he managed to slide his hand out of hers and stood. She’d be hungry when she woke. And if she wasn’t, she’d need to eat regardless. He should go take care of Miss Mary now while she slept. By then the stores would be open and he could run and get supplies and suitable foods. He ate out of cans for the most part but that was because he had no reason to use his culinary skills. Those were intended for special occasions, and since he’d lost his fiancée there’d been none of those.

  Before turning away, Solomon stared at the nameless woman one last time. He felt a rush of emotion at the fact that he’d found her. Saved her. At the fact that he’d heard her calling him. At the fact that God had let him hear it. He often felt like his fiancée had called him while enduring whatever happened to her. It was only half a year since he’d managed to put down the rabid obsession of finding at least her remains. He just… needed something to finish it.

  And here lies this woman in his cabin not long after he made his peace with God over it. All the why, why, whys had been beaten to death. Why didn’t God tell him where his fiancée was, show him, or help him find her? Why? What had Solomon ever done to deserve that?

  It was eating him alive. But his uncle finally knocked sense into him one day. Literally. He wasn’t sure what shocked him more, the fact that he knew how to throw a punch or the fact that he did. And at him. But Solomon had more than asked for it. He’d insulted his own dead mother while drunk and cursing God up and down. “He took her like He took my mother. To torment me! To kill me and keep me alive to live dead! She did this, she let that bastard do this and your stupid loving God allowed it!!”

  Solomon could still see it plain in his mind how his uncle calmly stood up from the kitchen table and decked him right in the mouth. Flat on his back, his uncle’s face was still clear as day before his, finger pointing at him. “That was for your mother. God can handle his own, but don’t you ever speak that way about my sister, you hear me? She loved you more than her own life!”

  His words caused everything to boil over in his heart, and the tears he could never shed finally came. That was the day things changed. He couldn’t really point to any one thing as to how or why, but for the first time since Solomon could remember, there was something heavy gone from inside. The angry heavy. It had been there from childhood and it was just gone. He no longer wanted to kill his father, he no longer wanted to kill himself, he no longer wanted to kill, period. There was just this… sense of ease where the biting turmoil had been. He wouldn’t call it peace but it wasn’t hell anymore.

  Solomon took in the reddish orange hair that went past her shoulders. It seemed thick even though disheveled and matted with a lot of blood. God, she needed a bath. And all he had was a shower. Maybe by tomorrow he could sponge off some of the filth and horrific memories.

  Chapter Five

  “Now, why would you think I’m hiding something?” Solomon brought the cage around to a delighted Miss Mary, grinning at the way her face lit up.

  “Oh,” she barely gasped, covering her mouth with trembling fingers. “That’s a… that’s a… oh don’t tell me,” she said, reaching both hands toward the cage.

  “Careful,” Solomon said, delivering the tiny mole into her lap. “He’s got claws and he knows how to use them.”

  “He is precious. A mole!”

  Solomon laughed. “Yep. You got it. And he’ll need somebody to look after him.”

  “Well I have plenty of room here,” she offered sincerely. “He can stay next to Dexter in my bedroom.”

  “Only if you promise to keep him in the cage until I build a better home for him?”

  “I know the rules,” she cooed to the animal. “Yes I do, I do know the rules. Mr. Solomon makes me swear on my Arthur’s grave.”

  “I do not,” Solomon said laughing as he made his way to the side of the small room with the kitchen and table to rush through his usual duties. Dishes, dinner, and take her laundry home. He wouldn’t be able to visit but seeing her with the new pet, she wouldn’t care or notice when he left.

  “How’s yer daddy doin?” she called from her room where she put her new playmate.

  “Pretty sure he’s fine.” Why she bothered asking was more a wonder to him. It was like nothing had changed in her mind since twenty years ago. Solomon wasn’t sure if she even knew that his dad had left him when mom died and never came back. He didn’t plan on telling her, either.

  Solomon was glad he’d come. He liked Miss Mary a lot. He’d started physical therapy and massages right away for her legs. They’d only been at it for around two weeks—took two just to talk her into letting him—but already she’d shown significant muscle improvement.

  “Now I done tole you these mountains are hauntified.”

  Solomon turned from the small sink to find Mary behind him. She’d moved from her wheelchair to the table. “You walked,” he observed, nodding and going back to the job.

  “Course I did. I’m getting stronger eva day thankins to you.”

  “What are you going on about these mountains, nothing wrong with them except being too gorgeous for the likes of this city scum.”

  “This is your land, boy. You was raised in it.”

  “I was five,” he chuckled. “I barely remember.”

  “No matter. I done tole you, the land remembas you.”

  Solomon usually enjoyed the banter but today, his mind was on the woman half dead in his cabin. “The land remembers, huh? G
ood,” he muttered. “Maybe it could remind my uncle that he should visit his nephew.”

  “That what eatin your goad?”

  “How do you know anything is eating anything?” He tossed a smile over his shoulder. “You sure see a lot for a woman nearly blind.”

  This got him a loud cackle. “Indeed I do. Maybe yer uncle’s waitin for you to make the first move.”

  “I could call,” he admitted. “Invite him down to fish.”

  “Now that sounds like a right fine idea.”

  He could sure use his uncle’s wisdom right now. He’d always gone to him for anything major, and that woman in his bed was pretty major. “I’m going to get your dinner on Mary and take your laundry back to my place. I’ll be back tonight to tuck you in.”

  She let out a sigh. “Fine then. Guessin you don’t care about the latest news.”

  “What news?” he laughed, rinsing the final dish and turning. “You don’t have a phone, a TV, a radio. Are the animals telling you secrets?”

  “They sure are,” she said, serious as can be, making Solomon shake his head.

  “You laugh but it’s true, I can hear ‘em like as if I’m talkin straight to a person. Dexter says he wants a wife. And children.”

  Solomon burst out laughing and shook his head as he made his way to the small basket with her clothes. “So I managed to trap a family oriented raccoon, did I?”

  “Fraid so,” she said, serious as can be.

  “I’ll see what I can do. Maybe I’ll put a note on the trap. Seeking female raccoons wanting to start a family. Please do not enter unless you can fill the position.” Solomon sighed at finding zilch in the covered hamper. “Mary.”

  “I don’t go no dadgum where,” she cried. “There ain’t no need to be a changin like I’m goin to parties eva day.”

  “It’s what people do, Mary. They change their clothes, they brush their hair, they bathe,” he stressed the last word with a glare at her. “We’ve been through this. You agreed you would.”

  “Well Dexter thinks it’s silly.”

  “Does he,” Solomon said, crossing his arms before her. “Well tell Dexter that I know right where I found him and I’ll happily return him. How about you let him know that if he wants to stay here, he’ll need to be for me, not against me.” He got somewhat in her face about it, just enough to let her know he meant business. He had to with her, or she’d walk all over him.

  “For Pete’s sake, you’re ruthless,” Mary shrilled.

  “And tell him he can cook your dinner and do your physical therapy too.”

  She cackled. “Don’t reckon he’d be up for that-n.”

  “I don’t reckon at all,” Solomon said, going over to kneel before her for inspection. “How are those legs of yours?”

  “Sexy as all get out,” she said, pulling her bathrobe up and wagging her feet. “I could probably out run yah, but don’t want to make you look pitiful.”

  He nodded laughing. “I bet you can,” he mumbled, happy to see no swelling. “Yes, very good. Much better.” He lowered the gown and put his hands on his upper legs. “I think it’s time to take this physical thing up a notch.”

  She pawed the air with a hand, getting shy. “Why Mr. Solomon. I didn’t realize you liked little ole ladies.”

  He lowered his head hiding his grin as she cackled boisterously at her little joke. “Very funny, Mary, soooo very funny.”

  ****

  Solomon flew through the Walmart, throwing supplies in the basket. If the church looked at what he bought, they’d certainly wonder. He was doctoring animals for Miss Mary was the planned excuse. He tried to think like a woman in the toiletry aisle, trying to remember what they used that men didn’t. How the hell would he justify a pack of maxi-pads? He’d just pay for some of this with his own money, that’s how.

  The food was last and Solomon shopped like he was preparing a meal for royalty. And his beggar’s budget squealed for him to stop. But she needed the best of the best in the condition she was in. He got several supplements for bones and skin and every manner of herb and food for quick healing he could find.

  By the time he was driving home, he was in a panic. It was already 10:00 a.m. He’d gone as fast as he could and left a note for her in case she woke up and wondered, but even with all his hurrying it was going on four damn hours. He’d taped the note to the wall next to the bed so she didn’t have to really move to see it. He hated to say it but he didn’t think her sight would be working soon with those two horrific plums for eyeballs in the sockets.

  The other dread was leaving her alone. She’d said the monster had left to go home and lived far away but what if she was wrong? Or lied?

  Solomon eyed the area as he got out the truck and hurried to the cabin door with the key. He was relieved a little to find it locked still and quickly let himself in. He stared in the direction of the bed, momentarily blinded in the cabin’s dark interior. He finally made out that she was still in bed. Exact same position as before.

  Panic slammed him as he raced to the side of the bed and pressed two fingers to her pulse. She woke up gasping for air like she’d been drowning, swatting at his hands. “It’s me, it’s me,” he hurried.

  She finally calmed down, gasping in the bed. “I’m… thirsty.”

  A wave of guilt hit him to think she’d been lying there, dying of thirst. “Okay, I got supplies and food. More medicine especially. I’ll get the bags out of the truck and get your drink.” He turned and hurried for the door.

  He ran the groceries and supplies in as fast as he could then locked the door, wishing he had a few more deadbolts. At least he had his shotgun again. He’d found it after searching nearly an hour for it, part of what took him so long. He was more worried that somebody else had gotten it than it being lost.

  Solomon brought one of the small bottles of blue Gatorade to the bed and knelt next to it. “I’m going to tilt your head up so you can drink, okay?”

  She drank from her swollen cracked lips until half the bottle was down then he stopped her.

  “Let’s wait fifteen minutes before letting you drink more,” he said quietly, lowering her head back down. “Your swelling seems to be better.” By one percent. But it was better than nothing and he felt the need to give her good news. “And you’re about to eat some of the best food your mouth has ever had the pleasure of tasting.”

  Her brows drew together a little as she looked toward him, her eyes still sealed shut. “You… can cook?”

  Poor baby, she looked awful. “This surprises you? I get it, most men don’t.” He stood, and adjusted the covers almost like some buried habit, taking care not to touch her. “Let’s get you pumped with some medicine to help with the pain.”

  Solomon dug through the scarce kitchen supplies the place had come stocked with. For the first time he took serious assessment of what he had and how it would serve him. There were all of four cabinets, two lower, two upper. He straightened and spied the tray under the coffee pot and cleaned it off. He made several trips to the bed, then decided to just bring all the supplies next to it along with one of the kitchen chairs.

  Sitting, he got the pain meds out and quickly gave her the maximum dosage, helping her drink again to get them down. “How’s the pain?”

  She only barely nodded after swallowing and he realized he needed to ask that question differently. “Thirsty.”

  “Okay, you can finish this off.” Solomon held her head up while she downed the remaining drink. “The pain is better?”

  She nodded again.

  “Scale of one to ten, how much better? Ten being a lot.”

  “One and… three eighths,” she whispered.

  Solomon’s brows rose in curious fascination. “You’re being funny?” That she could be while in such a state would be something. She nodded while keeping her face turned away from him.

  “Are you hungry?” he asked.

  “I need to eat,” she said, her voice croaky.

  “I agree. I’ll
get some soup going, it’ll be easy to eat. I bought enough healthy foods to resurrect the dead.” He stood when she didn’t say anything. “I’ll go ahead and… get it. Are there any foods you’re allergic to that I should know about?” He barely caught her headshake. At least he hoped that’s what it was. He didn’t want to make her talk more than necessary. “Not allergic, great.” He eyed her, waiting for any indication otherwise and got busy preparing when there was none.

  Solomon decided that chatting to her while he cooked was a good way to ease her worries or fears of him if she had any. “So, you’re probably wondering what I do for a living. I actually take care of this sweet old lady every day. She lives across the holler,” he said in an exaggerated West Virginian drawl. “You’d really like her, I think. She’s eighty-seven but you’d swear she ate firecrackers for breakfast with as much spunk as she has.”

  Solomon gave a chuckle as he turned on the front burner to the old white gas stove. “I’ve only been taking care of her for about a month, but feels like longer. She’s lonely and so I had the bright idea of getting her a few pets. I swear I’ve started a zoo.” Solomon glanced toward the bed and found her gruesome face angled his way like she might be listening.

  Encouraged, he went on, “Anyway, I’m actually a city boy. From Edmond, Oklahoma. The church called me down to take care of Miss Mary and I really didn’t have anything else going on so I came up. And you know…” He took a plate out of the cabinet to cut vegetables. “Miss Mary was right about me being part of the land. Now that I’m back and really living in it, doing things in it, I can feel it.” He wagged his knife. “You know, like something you forgot but never knew you forgot until you remembered it again? Hard to explain,” he said, starting on the vegetables.