Seven Demons of Glencoe
After knocking on the door for a third time, Dad peered between the bars of a side window. “Well, someone’s here. I see movement.” He rapped on the window and then came back to stand at the door.
My sister, Mud, tugged at my hand still clutching her orange Loch Ness monster. “Is this a jail?”
I was about to answer when the door eased open and a barefooted woman peered out. Behind her Van Halen’s newest hit, Jump blared.
Dad raised his voice to be heard, “Claudia, glad you are in. I was worried we might have to spend our first night in Berkeley at a hotel.”
When our cousin didn’t say anything or move aside Dad frowned, looking from her, to us, to the four suitcases and two duffle bags we had just lugged from Aberdeen, Scotland.
“Um, Daniel, I thought you were arriving tomorrow.” She looked behind her. “I haven’t finished cleaning up for you yet.”
“My meeting was cancelled, so we managed to snag an earlier flight. Not a cause for concern. None of us is fussy, Claudia.”
She stared at us like we were some kind of apparition before speaking. “Oh, everyone calls me Moonglow now.”
Dad obviously didn’t feel this worth responding to. When she didn’t say another thing he cleared his throat, “My girls are a wee bit weary, Claudia.”
“Oh, sure, right, it’s your house.” She moved aside as we shuffled in.
Dad nodded reassured that things were settling into their proper order, “Let me introduce my daughters, Berengaria, you may remember from when we were here before.” I nodded. “And Matilda.” Mud held her stuffed animal closer.
Claudia/Moonglow startled me with an American hug. The scent of strong smoke reeked from her, not Scottish pipe or pub smoke, but something else entirely. “Wow, I’d forgotten that handful of a name, Beren…”
“Beren, is fine.” I assured her.
“Awesome.” Moonglow looked relieved, “What were you, seven, when you left? I don’t believe I would have recognized you if I saw you on Telegraph Avenue.”
Mud sniffed, “Yuck. What’s the funny smell?”
Dad frowned, “Matilda, remember what we talked about? Think before you speak.”
Mud put her lips into a pout but didn’t add another word.
We entered the living room to see four people sprawled upon two beanbag chairs and the floor. The smell was stronger here. The bass of the boom box bounced off the walls. Another woman backed out from a far room waving a bundle of smoldering sage, murmuring, "I banish all spirits...blah, blah. Be gone back to your..."
“Star, I think they’re demons, not just spirits. You’re gonna need more then garlic and sage to drive those away,” one of them interrupted.
“Shut up, Ronny, Can’t you see I’m concentrating on...” She turned in a half circle and stopped dead upon seeing us.
Mud watched with eyes older than her five years.
Moonglow stammered, “We were…doing a purification ceremony, getting the place ready. There’s this musty smell…”
Right, I thought. Dad was no fool. They must be trying to cover the smell of pot.
Dad nodded, his eyes slowly taking in the large rectangular room, the lack of real furniture, the collection of people draped across his living room. His nose flared as, he too, noticed the scent. Dad’s mouth tightened at the glowing roach in the ashtray on the floor, identifying the underlying smell that mingled with the odor of sage. He walked over to the boom box, unplugged it and then crushed the offending roach. “Better.”
Beyond a door slammed and the holder of the sage nearly jumped from her skin. Moonglow, after a quick look at her friends said, “Wind, it’s just the wind.”
My sister, Mud, tugged at my hand still clutching her orange Loch Ness monster. “Is this a jail?”
I was about to answer when the door eased open and a barefooted woman peered out. Behind her Van Halen’s newest hit, Jump blared.
Dad raised his voice to be heard, “Claudia, glad you are in. I was worried we might have to spend our first night in Berkeley at a hotel.”
When our cousin didn’t say anything or move aside Dad frowned, looking from her, to us, to the four suitcases and two duffle bags we had just lugged from Aberdeen, Scotland.
“Um, Daniel, I thought you were arriving tomorrow.” She looked behind her. “I haven’t finished cleaning up for you yet.”
“My meeting was cancelled, so we managed to snag an earlier flight. Not a cause for concern. None of us is fussy, Claudia.”
She stared at us like we were some kind of apparition before speaking. “Oh, everyone calls me Moonglow now.”
Dad obviously didn’t feel this worth responding to. When she didn’t say another thing he cleared his throat, “My girls are a wee bit weary, Claudia.”
“Oh, sure, right, it’s your house.” She moved aside as we shuffled in.
Dad nodded reassured that things were settling into their proper order, “Let me introduce my daughters, Berengaria, you may remember from when we were here before.” I nodded. “And Matilda.” Mud held her stuffed animal closer.
Claudia/Moonglow startled me with an American hug. The scent of strong smoke reeked from her, not Scottish pipe or pub smoke, but something else entirely. “Wow, I’d forgotten that handful of a name, Beren…”
“Beren, is fine.” I assured her.
“Awesome.” Moonglow looked relieved, “What were you, seven, when you left? I don’t believe I would have recognized you if I saw you on Telegraph Avenue.”
Mud sniffed, “Yuck. What’s the funny smell?”
Dad frowned, “Matilda, remember what we talked about? Think before you speak.”
Mud put her lips into a pout but didn’t add another word.
We entered the living room to see four people sprawled upon two beanbag chairs and the floor. The smell was stronger here. The bass of the boom box bounced off the walls. Another woman backed out from a far room waving a bundle of smoldering sage, murmuring, "I banish all spirits...blah, blah. Be gone back to your..."
“Star, I think they’re demons, not just spirits. You’re gonna need more then garlic and sage to drive those away,” one of them interrupted.
“Shut up, Ronny, Can’t you see I’m concentrating on...” She turned in a half circle and stopped dead upon seeing us.
Mud watched with eyes older than her five years.
Moonglow stammered, “We were…doing a purification ceremony, getting the place ready. There’s this musty smell…”
Right, I thought. Dad was no fool. They must be trying to cover the smell of pot.
Dad nodded, his eyes slowly taking in the large rectangular room, the lack of real furniture, the collection of people draped across his living room. His nose flared as, he too, noticed the scent. Dad’s mouth tightened at the glowing roach in the ashtray on the floor, identifying the underlying smell that mingled with the odor of sage. He walked over to the boom box, unplugged it and then crushed the offending roach. “Better.”
Beyond a door slammed and the holder of the sage nearly jumped from her skin. Moonglow, after a quick look at her friends said, “Wind, it’s just the wind.”