Drown the Devil

Chapter Four

Chapter Four

As Alex stepped off the plane at JFK airport in New York City, he was greeted by the familiar and impeccable figure of his best friend, Patrick.

"Alex! Oh my God, you look amazing!" Patrick exclaimed, his eyes wide with shock and disbelief, his tailored suit and polished shoes giving him a distinguished look.

"I know, it's hard to believe, right?" Alex replied, a hint of a smile on his face, taking in Patrick's appearance, noting the way he looked like he just walked out of a GQ magazine.

As they made their way through the airport, Patrick couldn't stop staring at Alex. He couldn't believe the transformation in his friend's health, his sharp mind and keen observation, always noticing the small details. "I don't even know what to say, Alex. It's like a miracle," he said, his voice filled with emotion, his tone indicating the deep care he has for Alex.

Alex couldn't help but feel a sense of mixed emotions. He was happy to be back in New York, and to be reunited with Patrick, but he couldn't shake off the feeling that something wasn't right. "I know, it's crazy. I don't know how it happened, but I'm just grateful to be back," he said, trying to push the feeling aside, knowing that Patrick was a great listener and always ready to lend a helping hand.

As the week passed, Alex found himself struggling with his health once again. The cancer that he thought had been cured had returned, and he was faced with the harsh reality that he might not have much time left. He couldn't help but feel a sense of disappointment and regret for leaving The Whisperwood and its secrets behind.

"Patrick, I need to go back to New Orleans," Alex said, determination in his voice.

Patrick's expression turned serious, his dark eyes filled with concern. "What? Why? What's wrong?" he asked, his voice low and steady, always the voice of reason.

"I need to find out what happened, and I need to find a way to keep this cancer at bay," Alex replied, his voice filled with determination and a hint of fear.

Patrick nodded, understanding the gravity of the situation. "I'll do whatever it takes to help you, Alex. We'll figure this out together," he said, his hand on Alex's shoulder, a gesture of support and friendship.

And with that, Alex knew that he had a true friend in Patrick, someone who would be by his side no matter what. They both knew that the road ahead would be difficult, but together, they would face it head-on.

***

As Trombone Laveau, Alex’s grandfather traversed the halls of the Whisperwood, his grand mansion enshrouded in secrecy, an eerie sensation overcame him. An inexplicable sense of being watched and hunted, as if by some unseen, malevolent force.

He endeavored to dismiss it as mere paranoia, but the feeling persisted as he roamed through the opulent chambers, adorned with ornate furnishings and priceless artwork, some of these artwork, modeled after his daughter and son in-law whom he so dearly missed. Every so often, he would turn suddenly, convinced that something was lurking in the shadows, only to find nothing there.

Making his way to the library, a sanctuary of books and a roaring fireplace, he sought solace in a leather armchair. But even there, he couldn't shake the feeling of being watched, his gaze flitting about the room, scrutinizing every door and window for any signs of intrusion.

Determined to dispel his fears, he summoned his trusted bodyguard from his troop of guards.

"I need you to conduct a thorough examination of the premises," Trombone instructed, the urgency in his tone so evident. His senses were sharp. Very sharp. That was how come he’d survived this long in a dark, clandestine world were a tempest of secrets brewed from time to time. "I have this feeling that something is amiss."

"Of course, Mr. Laveau," the bodyguard replied, "I'll inspect every window and door for any signs of tampering."

As the bodyguard carried out his examination, Trombone couldn't shake off the sensation of being hunted. Since when Alex had been there, he’d had that sensation and when he left, it’d only grown harder. Tougher. With a feeling of impending doom he can’t outrun. The whispering voice he had heard earlier had grown louder and more insistent. He knew that whatever it was that haunted him, it was beyond the realms of the physical and he must find a way to protect himself.

Just then, Trombone received a call from his grandson, Alex, who was in New York. "Grandfather, you’re right," Alex said. "I'm coming to the Whisperwood straight away."

Trombone wanted to say, “stay there for a while, boy—it doesn’t feel safe here.”

But he knew why Alex said he was right, because he was dying. Again. And the only place in the world he could seek sanctuary was in the Whisperwood. So, swallowing painfully, he told him,

“Come. Come back home immediately.”

He wished the circumstances were different. And yet, it was everything but, for Alex might be walking back into a Whisperwood that would pose a huge danger to his life instead of save it. For the sake of the fear creeping inside of him, he ordered for more additions to be made to the security, and a couple of hours later while he stood in the grand foyer of his mansion, surveying the opulent decor with a critical eye, he thought they were getting somewhere. He had lived in this grand estate for decades, and it had always been his stronghold, a place where he felt safe and secure. But as he grew older, he knew that there were those who sought to take his power and his wealth. And perhaps, his life.

Not today, he thought to himself.

"Sir," came a voice from behind him. Trombone turned to see one of his workers, a man named Griggs, bowing respectfully. "The new security measures you requested are in place."

Trombone nodded, pleased. "Excellent. Show me."

Griggs led Trombone through the halls of the Whisperwood, pointing out the new high-tech traps and alarms that had been installed. "We've added more motion sensors in the floors, so if anyone tries to sneak in, we'll know about it immediately," Griggs explained. "And we've set up state-of-the-art barriers around the perimeter, so even if someone manages to get past the traps, they'll never make it inside."

Trombone nodded, impressed. "You've done well, Griggs. I want to see the guards' quarters next."

The man led Trombone to the barracks where the guards were quartered. "We've doubled the number of guards, Sir," Griggs said, as they walked. "And we've provided them with the latest weapons and armor. Even the most lethal bullets and the sharpest claws will have a hard time tearing through."

Trombone nodded, pleased. "I want you to triple the guard, Griggs. And I want to see the guards training every day. I want them to be the best-trained guards New Orleans."

Griggs bowed. "As you wish, Sir."

As Trombone walked back to his study, he felt a sense of satisfaction. He knew that he could never be too careful, and with these new measures in place, he felt confident that the Whisperwood would remain formidable and impenetrable for years to come.

"Sir," came a voice from behind him. Trombone turned to see his butler, a tall and thin man named Smithers, bowing respectfully. "There is a visitor at the gate, requesting an audience with you."

Trombone raised an eyebrow. "A visitor? Who is it?"

Smithers hesitated. "It's a young woman, Sir. She says her name is Maisie and that she has important information to share."

Trombone scowled. He had no time for visitors, especially not young women with important information. But something in Smithers' tone made him pause. "Very well, Smithers. Show her in."

As Maisie enters, she bows and says "Sir, I have come to warn you. I have heard rumors of a powerful sorcerer who seeks to overthrow you and take control of the Whisperwood. I know this sorcerer, and I believe that he will stop at nothing to achieve his goal."

Trombone's expression turned serious. "Thank you for the warning, Maisie. I will take this information under advisement and increase the security measures of my mansion."