Brewing Boys

by Sara Bourgeois

  Instead of teleporting home, Jezebel rode in the Jeep with me. We stopped at the store for some fresh tuna, and she waited out in the parking lot for me to make my purchase. I didn't want to eat hospital food for dinner, so I got some things for myself too. It had only been a couple of days, but it was starting to feel like all I ate was vending machine and hospital cafeteria food.

  I picked up what I needed to make chicken and potatoes. There were also fresh berries, so I purchased a carton of cream for Jezebel and me to share.

  Jez was quiet on the short drive home, but she would purr softly if I reached over and petted her between the ears. I had been running on adrenaline for so long that I wasn’t sure how much longer I could stay awake. I needed some good food and rest if I was going to be any good to anyone. As I turned into my neighborhood, I let myself relax a little. A quiet evening at home with my cat and my ghost roommate was just what the doctor ordered. I’d go back and see Nathan first thing in the morning as long as I didn’t get a call from the hospital tonight. I knew that call wasn’t coming, though. I believed Papa when he said that Nate was going to be alright. The rest I would worry about later.

  At least, that’s what I thought. When I pulled onto my street, I could see Brad’s car parked in front of my little house. He was standing behind it leaned against the trunk. The look on his face told me that my quiet night of rest had been a complete pipe dream.

  Chapter Two

  “Lenny, I’m so sorry to bother you,” Brad said as he pushed himself off the trunk into a full stand.

  He looked stiff and worried, and that got my blood pumping too. He was also in his uniform, and there was someone in the back seat of his cruiser. My stomach lurched as I noticed their hair. There was only one person I knew of who had red hair like that. Brad had Irene in the back of his car.

  "Why do you have Irene?" I asked him as I tried to get a closer look at her.

  "Oh, so you know this woman?" Brad asked suspiciously.

  "Not really. She's..."

  "She's Nate's crazy ex, and she was snooping around your house." He said bluntly. "You should probably pack up some things and go stay at your Aunt's inn."

  "I take it you aren't arresting her then."

  "Lenny, I wish I could, but I've got nothing tying her to Nate's attack. Nothing yet, anyway."

  "What about her snooping around the house? That's trespassing." I barked.

  I was glad she was in the car. Brad and I both knew she'd run Nate down even if he didn't have any evidence yet. Something primal deep inside of me wanted to tear her limb from limb. She'd tried to kill MY future husband twice now, and there wasn't anything the law could do about it. I had to protect him.

  "The neighbors down the street saw her knock on your door, and when you didn't answer, Irene walked around the outside of the house looking into the windows. At least, that's what they reported to dispatch. By the time I got here, she was standing on your porch again. I put her in the car to protect her from you. I can't arrest her for standing on your porch."

  "That was good thinking. You'd better take her somewhere else. Unless you want me to handle this. Then, feel free to leave her alone with me." I practically growled this, and I shocked myself with how feral and unhinged I sounded.

  "We both know that's not a good idea, Lenny. Nate needs you, and for whatever reason, this woman is hard to catch. She knows what she's doing, but you're a good person. You'd get caught."

  He was right. I'd end up in prison and Irene would go free to finish Nathan off. I asked Brad if there was anything I could do. He said that I could file for a restraining order, but he doubted I'd get one since she hadn't threatened or attacked me in any way. She also hadn't been accused of running Nate over yet. So, as far as the law was concerned, she was untouchable.

  Irene was vile trash, and I wanted her as far away from me as possible. But, my curiosity was too much to just ignore. I had to know why she was at my home. I decided the best way to find out was to talk to her while Brad was there. That way, I couldn't kill her.

  Irene stepped out of the cruiser after Brad opened the door, and my hands involuntarily balled into fists. This was the first time I had the chance to look at her up close. She had a sugary sweet smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. At a glance, you would have thought she was genuinely happy to see me, but I could sense something dark brewing just below the surface. As far as I knew, Brad wasn't a supernatural, and he was picking up on it as well.

  "It's good to finally meet you, Lenora," Irene said and extended a thin, perfectly manicured hand to me.

  "Whatever, Irene. Why are you here?" I didn't take her hand or attempt to fake politeness.

  I had nothing left in me for this. I was tired, hungry, and there was no positive or productive excuse for Irene to be at my house. The only reason she'd be at my home was to threaten or hurt me. I got the feeling she wasn't going to come clean with Brad listening to us.

  "You're exactly right." Irene hissed. "Privacy please." She said curtly.

  I didn't understand at first, but then I looked at Brad. Her words had put him into some sort of trance. Irene wasn't just evil. She was an evil witch.

  "You better not have hurt him," I said and searched my mind for a way to free Brad from her trance.

  "Leave him be for a moment, Lenora. He'll be fine." She said. "I have business with you."

  "You're going to have business with more than me if you hurt Brad. His girlfriend is a witch too, and she's not one to be messed with. Come to think of it, I'm not one to be messed with either. I know what you did to Nate, and you're going to pay." It was my turn to hiss.

  "Nathan will be okay. I'll see to that. That's what I came here to tell you, Lenora. You're not needed anymore. Nathan will have no use for you when he wakes up, and I'd hate to have to dispose of you. I do hate taking out the trash." She said with a jovial chuckle.

  "You're insane, Irene. You're the one who almost killed him. Nate needs to be protected from you. You should leave now. There are only two ways this can end if you stay."

  "Let me guess. Dead or in jail? You're so predictable. I'm not exactly afraid of a little goody two shoes like you." Irene said and laughed even harder at me. "Nathan will be alright. As long as he comes back to me, I won't do anything to harm him again. I didn't want to hurt him this time, but I had to. You see, not all of us are born witches, Lenora. What I did to Nathan was my last test. I had to do harm to someone I love, and he's the only one. Now, I've earned my powers, and nothing can stop me."

  "You love him so much that you'd sacrifice him," I said bluntly.

  There wasn't much conviction behind those words. It had to be true as sickening as it was. If she didn't love him, the sacrifice wouldn't have worked, right? I didn't know. I was just beginning to scratch the surface of my powers. I knew nothing of dark magic.

  "You should leave," I said as calmly as possible. "But when you do, know that you're wrong."

  "Haha. I'm wrong about what, Lenora?"

  "This goody two shoes is going to stop you," I said, and I believed it. "Wake up," I said to Brad.

  It worked, and he snapped out of the trance Irene had put him in.

  "I've decided this isn't a good idea," Brad said. "I'm going to take Irene back to whatever rock she crawled out from."

  I could sense Irene's anger, but I shot her a warning glance. I could see her wither a little and that bolstered my confidence. She wasn't going to do anything to Brad today knowing that she'd have to take on Esme and me together.

  At that moment, I wished I was more like Esme. She wouldn't hesitate to rip Irene apart in this situation, but I knew that wasn't the right move. I had the guidance of my intuition, ancestors, and an angel, and somehow, I knew that I had to let her go now. It killed me, but I did it. If she hurt Brad, nothing would stop Esme, and I think Irene knew that.

  I watched the car disappear down the street before going inside. The house was quiet, and I hoped that Irene hadn't done anything to Abby. I looke
d around and didn't find her, so I went into the kitchen to start dinner. Perhaps my cooking would draw her back. Abigail couldn't resist the kitchen.

  I'd made it about halfway through washing and slicing the potatoes when Abby appeared. She looked pale even for a ghost.

  "I don't like that woman."

  "I don't like her either, Abby. Hopefully, she won't be back."

  She relaxed a little and watched me make dinner quietly. Jezebel curled up for a nap under the table, and I finally got a little bit of peace.

  The chicken and potatoes were delicious, and I was glad I'd made enough to take to Lincoln and Helen the next day. I'm sure they could both use a home-cooked meal even if it was reheated.

  After dinner, I took a shower and got into my pajamas. It was weird not being able to call Nathan. Generally, on the nights we were apart, we'd talk on the phone or at least text each other.

  We weren't just apart, though. He was lying in a hospital bed fighting for his life. That thought took my breath away, and I had to bite my lip to keep from crying. I'd been told he would be all right, but it was still scary.

  I had to keep myself busy, so I decided to go into my office and check my work email. I had a couple of emails from my boss, so I sent replied and let him know how Nathan was doing.

  I skimmed through my other new messages and sorted all the advice column questions as I went. An email at the bottom of the list caught my attention. The email address looked standard enough.

  sallymorgan1997@qmail.com

  The subject line was what really grabbed my attention.

  Do you believe in demons?

  I clicked the button to open the message. I had enough on my plate with Nathan in the hospital and Irene being a dark witch, but I had to keep working. Chuck believed in me, and despite my personal life being a mess, I couldn't flake out on him completely.

  Working would also help keep me sane during whatever trials I had in store for me in the future. Despite how much it felt like Nate was my entire life at that moment, he wasn't. I was still my own person, and I had a career that I'd dreamed about for a long time.

  So, I read Sally Morgan's email and decided right away that she was my next story. The following is what she said in her letter to me:

  Dear Ms. Brewer,

  Thank you for taking the time to read my letter. I hope that you can help me, but I'll understand completely if you can't. Let me just cut to the chase. There is a demon infesting my home, and no one believes me. I can't get the local church to investigate because I have a history of depression and anxiety. They said that I need to see a doctor.

  I know that a lot of people who claim to be oppressed by demons are mentally ill, but I have no history of hallucinations. I've never been diagnosed with anything other than generalized anxiety and situation depression. Neither one of these causes hallucinations. I was actually starting to feel better when the "events" in my house began.

  The first time something happened, it was just after I'd gone to bed. I heard a thump from down the hall, but I dismissed it as being my cat, Roger. Then, I heard another thump and the sound of someone running through the kitchen slamming cabinet doors. I shot up and called the police when I realized that Roger was at the foot of the bed.

  The 911 operator, Nora, wanted me to stay on the phone with her and lock myself in the bedroom if I could. So, I locked my bedroom door and took Roger into the bathroom. I closed that door too and watched out the window for the police while Nora asked me questions and tried to keep me calm.

  I think I just about had a heart attack as the thumping started to move down the hall towards my bedroom. Whoever, or whatever, was out there had heard me talking on the phone and was coming to get me. The pounding on my bedroom door started just as I saw the red and blue lights from the police car turn onto my street. I asked Nora if she could hear the pounding and then held the phone out. She said she'd heard it. I told her the police were pulling into the driveway, and she got on the radio with the police to tell them the suspect was still in the house and was trying to break into my bedroom. I watched the two policemen get out of their cars and cross my front lawn with their guns drawn. I couldn't get out of the room to unlock the front door, but I heard one of them kick it in and then shout for the the suspect to come out with their hands up. The pounding on my door stopped.

  What happened next is one of the reasons I can't get anyone to help me. The pounding on the door started again, but this time it was a police officer. I went out into the hallway, and two very annoyed policemen told me that there was no one in the house. They informed me that they would arrest me for prank calling 911 if this ever happened again. I pleaded with them and told them that Nora, the 911 operator, had heard the banging too.

  In the end, it was decided that I had been the one making the banging noises that Nora heard. I was dismissed as being crazy and in need of mental help. I'm not crazy.

  I couldn't sleep the rest of the night, so I sat in my living room trying to watch movies with every light in the house on. I fell asleep three times at my desk at work the next day, but I told my boss I was coming down with something. I must have looked awful because she believed me.

  By bedtime that night, I was more than ready for sleep. But, as you can probably guess, the moment I drifted off, it started happening again. I couldn't call the police again, and I knew no one could help me. I was terrified, so I packed a bag quickly, grabbed Roger, and crawled out the bathroom window just as the pounding on the bedroom door started. Fortunately, my purse was in my room, so I at least had money for a hotel.

  Ms. Brewer, I only got one night of peace because the next evening, the same thing happened in the hotel. I heard the thumping coming down the hall and then the banging on my room door. I looked out the peephole, and there was no one there. As soon as I turned away from the door, the banging started again. People in the rooms next to mine complained and then went out into the hallway to confront whoever was banging on my door. But, there was no one there, so they assumed I was doing it.

  I ended up getting kicked out of three hotels. Eventually, I ran out of extra money and hotels within driving distance of my work, and I had to go home. I figured out after my first night of being forced to stay in the house that the thumping and banging is as far as it's going to go. I think. I mean, I really have no way of knowing, but so far it's never forced its way into my bedroom. I believe that it wants me to let it in. That's the plan. It's going to wear me down until I relent, but I can't do that.

  Things are getting worse as it grows impatient. I've had to let Roger stay with the next-door neighbor because the demon was causing him to be constantly terrified. So, now I'm alone. Some days the noises are constant, and I think I'm going to go mad. It bangs cabinets, breaks glasses, and makes these horrible moaning and growling sounds, but it hasn't done anything to hurt me physically yet. I looked it up on the internet, and this stage is called oppression. It's trying to break me down.

  I think the worst days are the ones where everything is quiet for a long time. I start to let myself believe that it might be over and that maybe the entity has given up and moved on. It will wait until I'm relaxed and then, bam. A cabinet door will slam right behind me while I'm getting a snack out of the fridge, or something will pound on my front door. But, when I open the door, nothing is there.

  I could tell you more if you're interested, or you could come see the house. Mrs. Nettle, my next-door neighbor, has offered to let me stay with her. I can't do it. Whatever this is will just follow me over there. She believes me, and she's begged me to at least try. But, Ms. Brewer, I can't risk it.

  I've contacted one of those ghost hunting shows, and they put me on their list. But, it's a long list. I hope that if you are interested and you write a story about my house, it will put me at the top of their list. Maybe if my story is in the news and on one of those television shows, someone who can help me will step forward. I don’t know what else to do.

  I would’ve been lying if
I’d said she didn’t sound like a crazy person, but I got a strange feeling that she was telling the truth. I emailed her back right away and told her that I wanted to come see her house for myself. I was getting ready to close my laptop, but another message popped up right away. It was from Sally.

  Can you come tomorrow?

  I was supposed to go to the hospital in the morning, but after that, I didn't have anything else going on. Part of me wanted to sit in the waiting room with Lincoln and Helen, but I knew that I couldn't do that forever. Chuck needed a story for the paper, and I didn't want him to start considering someone else for the job.

  What time?

  She got back to me right away again. Apparently, the stress and lack of sleep was making her physically ill, so she said she'd take half a sick day and meet me after lunch. I got the address and told her I'd see her tomorrow.

  Once we were done emailing for the night, I searched her address on Google. I used the Street View feature to get a look at the outside of the house and started taking notes for my story.

  Sally hadn't given me any physical description of the house or its location, so I was a little taken aback by what I saw. It was hard to place the house in time because it might have been a Cape Cod style home that had several additions, or it could have been a Dutch Colonial with strange additions. I was only able to guess that it was possibly a Cape Cod because that's what the house next door was. That had to have been Mrs. Nettle's place because on the other side of Sally's home was an empty lot.

  Something looked off about the house even in the picture. The windows were too dark, and the weird additions made it seem like a mad scientist had built it. Either that or the house had sprouted growths that just kept on going. It was a good thing that the lots were massive otherwise, there wouldn't have been room for its expansion. When I couldn't get any more information on the house by poking around it on Google Street View, I thought about going to bed.

  I closed my laptop, shut off my office light, and went to bed, but sleep felt a million miles away. I did something I swore I'd never do, and I got my laptop from my office. I was too tired to sit at my desk but too awake for bed. So, I sat in my bed with my computer on my lap and researched the history of the area where Sally's house was located.