There is a bible verse that says something like, cast out the evil demon and he will return with seven other demons. Even though Alissa did not follow Christianity or any structured religion, I had a bad feeling about the purchase of the bar she had her heart set on. The aspirations consumed her. “A coffee shop perhaps with a light lunch served 6 days a week,” I heard her tell the real estate agent as we waited for the owner.
“May I use the bathroom?” I inquired of the agent. She escorted me part of the way and turned on a light in the hallway. “It smells like a dead animal back here,” I said. To which she answered, “I agree.”
It was stronger in the bathroom, almost nauseating. Unlucky maggots squirmed on the cement floor while others crawled upon the drop ceiling having lost their feeding position on a mostly consumed squirrel. It had gotten ahold of rat poison and died above the ceiling tiles during the weeks since the bar closed. So we discovered only days after receiving the keys. The owner acknowledged the place needed work and suggested it was why it was priced light.
“It’s your headache now,” he said during the handshake. A bad ass biker with a checkered past. We had no idea.
It was my headache. I had one everyday I was there. Alissa blamed it on the dust and cleaning products. I began blaming evil spirits. She laughed at my suggestion, but I heard whispers and their threats that she could not. I had a nightmare that I considered a warning.
Unusual things happened during the months we renovated but it was the stench of dead squirrel that mucked up the opening weekend. Friday was busy but by Saturday morning the smell returned, maggots were crawling. I told Alissa about my dream.
“It was about a woman hidden in the wall,” I said. It didn’t go over well. She was as possessed by the opening weekend needs as she was with rumors that the woman who previously worked there had disappeared. I had an appointment, she was at the bar with the cleaning staff and later when I arrived I found her. She had a sledgehammer and there was a big hole in the wall. I looked from where she sat in a chair to her work. A skeleton was visible behind the drywall.
Alissa said, “I was with the boys this morning. They told me you were right and what the prick did.”
“What boys? The place is closed,” I said. She wasn’t herself. She was youthful and sexier than the prudish professional I was used to seeing.
“Seven disciples motorcycle club. Meet Evie,” she said standing up. She downed the bourbon on the rocks in her glass. The first time I ever saw her drink. A reflection in a beer brand mirror on the wall caught my eye and for a moment I saw her, “Evie,” a barmaid that went missing during the closing weekend. When I looked back at Alissa they were one in the same.
After that day things were different. Sex with Alissa, or Evie, our motorcycle trips, her new tattoos every other week. If it wasn’t a religion it was certainly a new way of life. I embraced her, or them.
DAGilberthorrorwriter 