“Did you just say you were hungry?”
“Hungry.”
“Is that because I’m in the kitchen?”
“Below. Hungry.”
The words chilled him.
“You’re hungry below?” Was this spirit referring to hell?
“You’re hungry below?”
The silence that followed stifled. Had that been a threat? Another twenty minutes without a hit forced him to end the session.
“Did you get anything, Mel?” Micah asked as he helped pack up the equipment.
“Starving. Does that make sense to you?”
“The spirit box said they were hungry below,” Micah admitted.
“I don’t like the sound of this.” Trish shook her head.
Micah sighed. “The real question we need to answer is what this thing is, and what it’s hungry for. Attention, energy, a soul?”
DAIZE
“I’m glad you finally agreed to come out with us.” Sophie grinned at her.
Daize smiled down the bar at her other co-workers, Joshua and Stephanie. Hard workers with kind, upbeat attitudes, they were her favorite people to be on a shift with. She’d begged off after work outings, but the thought of going home to an empty house before she talked with Micah didn’t sit right. Since they would not meet until nine, this left her with time to kill.
“Now that I’m finally settled in, I’ve been exploring the city. I never would’ve found this place by myself though.” She marveled at the atmosphere the Prohibition Bourbon Bar had managed to cultivate.
“It’s a bit of a well-kept secret. It’s only open Thursday through Sunday from five to eleven, and five to one on the weekends.” Now freed from his work braid, Joshua’s dark brown hair tumbled around his shoulders; the thick locks were enviable.
Why do men always get the best hair and lashes?
“We only found it because Josh is a bourbon fanatic,” Stephanie added. The perky, petit
e blonde with bright blue eyes was anything but a stereotype. Her platinum locks were streaked with purple, and Daize often enjoyed serious conversations about the newest developments in their field with her. The bar was tiny but quaint with its dark wooden bar tops, a dark yellow wall, and matching shelves fully stocked with bottles. Brown cushioned stools and a few tables with woven wooden-backed seats in the smaller space behind them kept the authentic vibe of a 1920s speakeasy.
“It has the largest collection of bourbon in the world ... over fifteen-hundred types,” Josh said. His hazel-colored eyes lit up, and she smirked.
“That’s impressive. Too bad I’m more of a scotch girl.”
“Boo. We’ll convert you,” Josh promised, lifting his glass of dark liquor.
Daize wrinkled her nose. “You’re welcome to try.” It felt good to be out and focused on normal things, like getting to know the people she worked with better.
“First drink is on me,” Josh insisted.
She perused the lengthy menu. “That decision is going to take me a while.”
Josh laughed. After all she’d been through, a nice stiff drink sounded just about right. She chose a tried but true drink, an Old-fashioned. Bourbon, bitters, sugar, and a splash of water were mixed together with expert precision. The slightly sweet, potent beverage served with a slice of lemon went down smooth.
“Are you making any plans for Halloween? It’s coming up fast,” Sophie said.
“I hadn’t put much thought into it. Back home, I’d be going to a Halloween party with friends.”