Blood Moon (A Louisiana Demontale): Book 1 of the Crescent Crown Saga

Chapter 2

Leo didn't see his mysterious neighbor again at all the following week. He tried to find Lydia Colophon on social media, but she didn't appear on any platform or even a Google search. All he could find was a region in ancient Greece by the same name.

Between not existing on the internet, her ever-so-endearing saltiness, and having strange animals on the balcony, he wondered if he shouldn't have introduced himself in the first place. But the mere possibility of seeing her at his show made butterflies dance in his stomach, and he dismissed any negative thoughts about her.

Bootleg Bourbon was a hole-in-the-wall bar in the French Quarter, not far from Leo's apartment. It had a rustic, 1920s theme with worn wood paneling and gilded embellishments. In fact, Leo speculated that it simply hadn't been refurbished since the 1920s. Leo liked it because the pay, the booze, and the sound person were all above average and the bartenders were friendly, which is about all he could hope for in a venue at this point. It even had a storage room which doubled as a green room for the musicians.

Setting up for the show was uneventful. A few people trickled in, paying the doorman and chatting around the bar. But not her. Not Lydia.

"Oi, Leo, get your shit together!" Nathan shouted from across the stage as he plugged in his guitar. His dirty blonde hair was coiffed up and he wore a V-neck under his black leather jacket. "You've been out of it since we got here, and we need to do a sound check."

"Got it," Leo nodded. He caught the eyes of their drummer, Beatrice, who rolled her eyes at Nathan behind his back. Leo stuck his tongue out at her. She laughed and twirled her drumsticks playfully.

"You do look a bit distracted," Bea said with her familiar, warm Australian accent. Her mussy dark hair was stark against her pale skin.

Leo nervously scratched the back of his head and shrugged.

"I think we're going to have a full house tonight," he explained. "I'm just excited, I think."

"Sure . . ." She looked at him slyly, as if she could hear his heart pounding in his chest. "You do look it. Maybe just not for the show."

"Can you toss me a chord, Leo?" Arnold asked, his oak brown bald head glinting under the multicolored spotlights. He was older than the rest, middle aged with graying stubble along his jaw and wrinkles near his chocolate brown eyes. Leo nodded and shuffled over to the equipment to help hook up Arnold's keyboard.

Showtime approached, and there was still no sign of Leo's mysterious neighbor. He grabbed some drinks from the bar for the band and they took shots together.

They played their first set to a hot, crowded bar. People danced and cheered. The sway of bodies and booze became a blur. The thrum of the music under his fingertips was invigorating. Everything swept away with the music while he played. The cheers and applause of the crowd sent adrenaline coursing through his veins. With Blood Oath, the notes were dark and brooding, somewhere between grunge and punk metal. With Bea leading the beat, Leo loved to dance his calloused fingers down the neck of his bass guitar melodically. Nathan's voice was coarse as he screamed into the microphone. The music was guttural, wild. Leo nodded his head vigorously to it, feeling the pull of the melody and swaying as he played.

Leo began to give up hope of seeing his neighbor and tried to focus on just playing the songs, floating off with the melody beneath his fingers.

At the end of the last set as Nathan tore out another solo on his guitar, Leo scanned over the crowd and noticed a familiar face near the back of the bar. Her rose gold hair was swept over her shoulder, and she eyed the crowd like a hawk. He gasped and stumbled over a couple notes. Nathan glared at him, though the crowd didn't notice at all—they were too drunk and too busy dancing to care. Leo gazed back down at his fret board and centered himself.