Inheritance by Clyde Andrews	Table of Contents
part 1 of 3

L.J.P. straightened his bow-tie and dusted imaginary lint from the snug-fitting dinner jacket.

“Ah, sir, it just looks perfect on you, do you not agree?” the shop assistant chirped with a fake French accent as he stood back and gave L.J.P. some room at the mirror.

“No, I do not, dear fellow,” L.J.P. frowned. “I look like a great penguin, and I feel as stiff as an ironing board. I’m just not comfortable in it.”

“Well, sir, the occasion, is it not formal dress?”

“Yes, yes, it is. My retirement party is unfortunately formal dress.”

“Then this is what you must wear, is it not?”

“I think you look fine, too, L.J.P.,” Shane smiled. L.J.P. had invited Shane to his retirement party, and they were both trying on evening wear.

“You would say that. Being so young and handsome, you’d look good in anything,” L.J.P. said, flashing a smile back.

“Then you look... distinguished, L.J.P. Yeah, that’s it, distinguished.”

“That’s another way of saying I look like an old, over-starched, stuffed penguin.”

Shane burst out in laughter. “I wonder if my mother is going through the same thing; she seems to be just as fussy as you are.”

“Leave your mother out of this,” L.J.P. then laughed, too. “She’s just marvellous the way she is. Like you, she will look fantastic, no matter what. I’m just glad you can both come.”

“We’re honoured... Oh, damn, is that the time? Sorry, L.J.P. I have a class to get to. Gotta go.”

“Yes, yes, your university class. Absorb all the knowledge you can, dear fellow. I’ll see you later.”

Shane dashed off with a wave of his hand. “I’ll see you about four o’clock. Don’t forget.”

L.J.P. watched him leave from above the rim of his spectacles. Still smiling he thought about how Valerie and Shane were the only ‘family’ he had ever known. How he had delivered Shane, seen him through many trying times; including abductions, magolescence, and even the rebellious teenage years. And now here he was watching him blossom into a fine young man in his final year of university, reading to be a teacher. L.J.P. smiled.

“Sir, so will you take this one?” the shop assistant said, bringing L.J.P. back to the present.

L.J.P. sighed, then turned and looked at himself in the mirror one more time. “All right, I’ll take it. Thank the Lord above that I don’t have to wear it for a few weeks, and only then for a few hours. Hopefully by then I can lose a few pounds around this rather portly middle I seem to have accumulated over the years,” L.J.P. chuckled prodding his stomach, then frowning again. “Just have it ready by the fourteenth, please.”

“Yes, sir.”

* * *

Shane waited patiently for his girlfriend Hannah at the cafeteria after class, flicking through one of his textbooks. He was to meet her at 3:00 pm. It was now 3:45 pm. He sighed, closed the book, and was about to leave when he saw her talking to a young man on one of the many grassy areas scattered about the university.

Not that Shane was the jealous type; but she did look like she was enjoying this man’s company; laughing, flicking her hair back, and much to Shane’s surprise, touching him on the shoulder as they engaged in conversation.

Perhaps he was a long-time friend, Shane thought. Perhaps he was a friend of her family. Shane dismissed these thoughts quickly as they did not serve any purpose other than to fuel unhealthy speculation. And really it was none of his business who his girlfriend spoke to. But something nagged at the back of his mind. Something seemed odd about that man. Shane knew it had nothing to do with any normal emotion; it had something to do with magic.

Shane had to stop himself from staring, for Hannah had finished her discourse and was heading Shane’s way.

“Hey there, baby,” she smiled, giving Shane a tight hug as he stood to greet her.

“Who was that?” Shane said unable to help himself. In fact he could not believe it. It was like someone else had said it, but the words came from his mouth. He certainly did not want to give Hannah the impression that he was some sort of control freak watching her constantly.

“He just said he was a friend of yours,” Hannah said shrugging her shoulder for emphasis to her words.

She then kissed him. Hannah obviously did not want any more to be said on the subject, and was using a girl’s best way to silence a boy.

Shane’s mind, however, was working overtime. Who was this man? His eyes remained open while Hannah kissed him deeply; he even tried to follow the man as best he could from the corner of his eye, but in the end he dismissed his misgivings and succumbed to Hannah’s beautiful, delicate kiss.

After their embrace, Hannah asked, “Have you got any more classes left today, Shane?”

“No, that’s it. But don’t forget to call me ‘S.U.’, Hannah. Remember.”

“Oh, all right, if you insist. I think it’s silly. But hey, anything for my baby. Say, you want to come back to my place... and study?”

Shane just smiled. Hannah had a way of making him bend to her will, not that it took much more than a suggestion. Shane lived and breathed her beauty.

* * *

L.J.P. knocked on the Uptons’ door and whistled a familiar tune while he waited for someone to answer it. After a while he knocked again, this time rapping more loudly. Still no answer. L.J.P. frowned. ‘Funny,’ he thought to himself, ‘I’m sure S.U. said that he would meet me here after his class.’

L.J.P. Looked around; seeing if there were any clues as to where Shane or even Valerie was. He noticed immediately that both cars were still in the carport. He rubbed his white goatee in concentration. A deep, dark feeling came over him, and the shiver that ran up his spine added to his worry.

Glancing at the ground he saw ants — thousands of them — scurrying away from the house; carrying their eggs. That sealed it: an omen was an omen, and something was definitely wrong here.

With a new sense of urgency, L.J.P. produced a stick of chalk from his jacket pocket. He scribed a neat circle around the door knob and then added a formula to it. No sooner had he completed the final algorithm when he heard a soft click. The door was open; he turned the handle without hesitation.

He did not know what to expect as the light from the open door flooded into the house. Inside the house the curtains were drawn and the lights were all off. L.J.P. was wondering why the house would be like this; especially seeing as it was still reasonably early in the day.

Just when he was about to investigate, a noise coming from the back of the house disturbed his train of thought.

It was the sound of Shane’s dog scratching constantly at the glass sliding door, and to L.J.P. it sounded like it was desperate to get in. He had barely opened the sliding door when in raced the family dog, nearly bowling him over in the process.

“Steady on, boy.” He could not for the life of him remember its name, although he had heard it plenty of times before. He closed the door and turned around to greet it when he noticed that the dog was nowhere to be seen.

“Now this is a worry,” L.J.P. whispered to himself.

He had never, ever known a dog not to greet a human, tail wagging, salivating, and completely over the Moon, even if that human had only just left the room for an instant. Even more worrying, L.J.P. was known to this dog, which made its disappearance all the more puzzling. “Here, boy,” he called.

But the dog did not respond. L.J.P., however, could now hear it scratching at something in one of the back rooms.

“I suppose you’re going to make me come to you, aren’t you boy?” L.J.P. said.

When he got to the dog, there was a different story to be told. The dog was scratching at Shane’s bedroom door: it was slightly ajar; bundles of clothes prevented the dog from being able to push it open.

“Here you go,” L.J.P. said, forcing the door open.

He was about to close it, when something on the bed caught his eye. At first he thought it was another pile of laundry; Shane’s room seemed to be a mess, so really that would not have been out of the question. But what dog sits beside a pile of clothes?

L.J.P. flicked on the switch. What he saw nearly made him gasp. Shane was laying on the bed, either asleep or unconscious. But he certainly did not look comfortable. In fact, it looked like he had been thrown there, landing awkwardly like a rag doll.

L.J.P. nudged Shane on the shoulder but could not wake him. When he turned him over to get a closer look, L.J.P. once more took in a breath. Shane had been hit by something. His forehead mottled, he had obviously been struck by a heavy blunt object.

“S.U., wake up!” L.J.P. said, still gently shaking him.

Shane did not respond.

L.J.P. was about to leave the room to see if he could find anything in his car that might help, when Shane stirred.

What came out of Shane’s mouth was not his own voice. It was a voice that sounded hard, malicious, and full of discontent: “The one, this one, the one, this is not he. He is not the one you seek. This is not the one you seek.”

“I see,” L.J.P. frowned, removing his spectacles and cleaning them deliberately. “I think I know exactly what has happened to you, S.U.”

L.J.P. trotted off to the kitchen. As soon as he opened the pantry door the dog was right there by his feet. “Oh, I see you come when there is food involved, don’t you boy?”

The dog replied by cocking its head and wagging its tail; it made a swishing noise across the linoleum.

Once he had taken a loaf of bread and an onion from the pantry, he hurried back to Shane’s room.

Shane was once more silent and unconscious. L.J.P. frowned. He hated doing what he was about to; so much could go wrong. But he really had no choice.

L.J.P. then placed the onion onto Shane’s forehead. With concentration lines etched into his brow he began his incantation. “The pain that is in this body, his body, his sinews, be peeled off like this onion.”

Slowly but surely L.J.P. peeled the onion, one layer at a time. Tears streaming down his face as the vapours from the onion filled the room. L.J.P. wiped his cheeks, but he had to keep going. A few tears were a minor concern.

He moved the onion in circles in the air above Shane’s head. Shane began to shudder; at first it was hardly noticeable, but as L.J.P. worked, Shane’s convulsions became more and more violent. As each layer of the onion was peeled off, Shane came closer and closer to consciousness.

“Hang in there, S.U.,” L.J.P. said holding Shane down as he reached for the loaf of bread. “Nearly finished... As I rub this bread across your body, I erase the demon within you.”

Repeating the actions as he said them, L.J.P. started at Shane’s head and ended at his feet.

Shane stirred. “W... what... the-”

“Just one more step before I’m finished, dear fellow” L.J.P. said in a smooth, reassuring voice. “With this loaf, the wholesome loaf. I pass it to the one that cannot be harmed by your demon. As it is passed, you will be free,” L.J.P. added as he threw the bread to the dog.

The dog ate it up without hesitation and L.J.P. smiled. It had worked. Shane had been exorcised.

“What happened, L.J.P.?” Shane said holding his head.

“I was hoping, dear fellow, that you could tell me.”

“Well, I- I- all I remember is getting a little friendly with, Hannah... Then — well, you know, as things got heated, we kind of-”

Proceed to part 2...

Copyright © 2006 by Clyde Andrews