“Two for the price of one!” Mr Pringleberry cried in joy.
“That’s bad for business you know,” Lizzy said, eyes heavy with criticism.
“Depends on what business you’re in.” Mr Pringleberry snootily shot back.
Only an hour ago Mr Pringleberry, Lizzy, Timmothy, and Mr Greensly took the unconscious body of Miss Brown up to her room, tied her to the bed, and propped a chair under the door knob for good measure. They returned to the dining area and sat, breakfast forgotten, to plan their next move. “I’m telling you we need a priest.” Lizzy insisted.
“No, no, we don’t need that.” Mr Greensly batted her words away.
“Are you crazy?” Lizzy threw up her hands, hardly able to believe her ears. “The thing’s not going to get bored and wander off.”
“The weather outside is rather nice for a walk though…” Mr Pringleberry worried away at a napkin, greatly saddened breakfast was ruined.
Mr Greensly sucking in a breath through clenched teeth. “Mr Pringleberry, did you start this business up yourself or did your family so you would have somewhere to go?”
“Don’t talk like that to him,” Lizzy berated. “Just because you’re having a bad day doesn’t give you the right─”
“Excuse me? A bad day?” Mr Greensly raised his finger to jab at his battered face.
“And who saved you from worse?” Lizzy stabbed at her face for emphasis.
“Where’s Timmothy?” Mr Pringleberry questioned. The others paused to look around the dining area. The young boy was nowhere to be seen.
The door to the kitchen swung open and Timmothy appeared, carrying a plate overflowing with a messily put together double-decker sandwich. “Timmothy, what are you doing?” Mr Greensly asked, running his hand through his hair in nerve-wracked impatience.
“I made a sandwich.” The young boy said simply.
“Why?” Mr Pringleberry sounded hurt. “There’s still breakfast on the table…”
“It’s not for me.” Timmothy corrected.
“Who’s it for?” Lizzy asked.
“Miss Brown.” He said, heading towards the door to the lobby.
“Oh, Miss Brown,” the three turned back to each other. “Miss Brown?” Mr Greensly asked incredulously, turning back towards the boy.
Timmothy nodded. “She said she’s hungry.”
“Tisk, that’s the demon talking, not Miss Brown.” Lizzy chided.
“Well the demon says he’s hungry so I’m bringing him a sandwich.”
“Didn’t your parents ever tell you not to feed demons?” Lizzy asked.
“No,” he said honestly. “But Miss Brown is housing the demon and she needs to eat.” With that Timmothy continued on his way.
Shaking their heads Lizzy and Mr Greensly turned away before realization fully struck them. Mr Greensly rushed to grab the plate from Timmothy’s hands as Lizzy gripped his shoulders, turning him roughly towards her. “You mean to tell me you’ve been talking to it?”
“Sure,” Timmothy reached to take back the sandwich, but the height difference proved too much.
“Why?” Lizzy asked, worry peeking through her white cheeks.
“Because he asked me too. Give me back the sandwich,” Timmothy whined.
Pushing the child aside in a way that could have ending in a criminal charge the three adults rushed upstairs. Stalling at the head of the grand staircase they look down the hall to Miss Brown’s room, Room 301. The door was open, the chair sitting neatly next to it. Fearfully they inched their way along the wall. Peaking inside, Miss Brown greeted the trio sitting on her bed, still somewhat tied to the bedposts. Lizzy gagged. Miss Brown’s arm was broken, hanging limply from the rope, while all along her neck harsh bruises painted her skin.
Closing the door Mr Greensly looked at Mr Pringleberry. “We need an exorcist.”