~ Chapter Two ~
  The Visitor  

R ain fell softly against the cold glass of the bedroom window.  The Brewer watched it anxiously, looking past the streaks and droplets, into the dark night beyond.  He absently rubbed his calloused hands together as his eyes searched the darkness for movement. 

He knew what was coming.  He just didn’t know when.

A tired cough from behind distracted him and he returned to his daughter’s side.  Barley lay in her bed, pale and shaking uncontrollably.  The Brewer reached down to wipe her sweating brow, smiling nervously as he did so.  She had broken both legs this time and he could see her wince noticeably from the pain.

“You are looking better my dear.” He said.  Barley opened her eyes and looked at her father skeptically.  He saw she knew it was not the truth.  She closed her eyes again and fell into an uncomfortable sleep.

The Brewer finished dabbing at her brow silently.  He rose and returned to the window, cocking his head from side to side as if to improve his sight into the blackness outside.

How many times must it be this way?

He wondered.

He looked back at his sleeping daughter from across the room.  He knew she should have died many times before; he was at a loss to explain her continued good fortune.  It had become apparent that it was more than good fortune that followed her.  Even near death, Barley had an air about her that said that she was in control of the situation.  It was very curious. 

He turned back to the patter of rain and went over his daughter’s 23 years of life in his mind.  Barley was headstrong and stubborn.  She wanted to learn for herself and rarely paid heed to warnings or sound advice from others.  She also had a wild streak in her that was the source of most of her troubles in life.  And his.

Barley had grown to be a stunning young woman.  Indeed, most of the men in the village vied for her affections.  She had silken auburn hair, deep green eyes and a pouty stare that broke more than a few hearts.  Her figure turned men’s heads from at least 50 yards and her laugh rose in the air as a gentle breeze, touching the senses in a way no man soon forgot.   

But if any of these young men had any preconceptions about her from her appearance, they were soon dashed after approaching her.  She was extremely intelligent and wary of the games boys play.  She was able to hold conversations on just about any subject and was a quick study.  Many found this combination of brains & beauty intimidating, which pleased Barley to no end. 

She also had reputation of danger that, while deserved, many found increased her attractiveness. Barley often explained away her good fortune on her imaginary Guardian Angel, affectionately referred to as Eden. Whenever she got out of a scrape, Barley would cock her head skyward and say something like “thank you Eden!”. Her father just shook his head and held her close, grateful for her well-being.   

This time she lay near death because of a reckless bet she had made with one of the Adams boys. The wager was made in the Tavern, a drunken Sam Adams boasting at what an accomplished horseman he was.  Barley challenged that claim, being an excellent rider herself, and soon both were racing their hoses down the dark village road towards Taylor’s Ravine.   In the dusk of the evening neither saw the fallen tree until too late.  Both riders were thrown off their mounts and down into the ravine.  Barley made it out with her beautiful legs broken, but Adams was dead.  

The villagers had brought Barley back to her father’s tavern and he set up a bed for her there next to the bar. He closed the tavern that night and it had remained closed since.  

************

The tavern door flew open with a crash, the cold wind swirling in and tossing chairs and tables askew.  The Brewer stepped into the gale, placing himself between the dark doorway and his daughter’s bed. 

A large black crow flew into the room and perched itself heavily at the end of bar.  Head cocking to and fro, black eyes blinking and wings spread wide, the crow cawed angrily at the Brewer. 

As the Brewer stared uncertainly at the menacing bird he felt the room temperature suddenly drop.  His breath was now visible as quick vapor clouds that appeared in front of his face.  Deep fear gripped him as he tried to control his spastic breathing.

The crow was suddenly quiet.  Behind him Barley let out a cry of despair and he whirled around to see her arched violently up in bed, her eyes wide with terror. 

“No!” cried the Brewer, his arms swinging wildly at the air above where his daughter lay as if to scare away some unseen aggressor.

“No! Not again! Not this time!” he yelled to the emptiness around him. He knew what was happening all to well.

Death was here.

Barley struggled against the invisible assailant as panic began to set into her father.  In desperation, the Brewer reached down for a heavy pewter mug that lay nearby hurled it at the large black bird on the bar.  Before the crow could react, the mug struck it squarely in the skull, crushing it and killing the creature instantly.

Barley fell back into her bed and gasped for air.  Whatever it was that held her had released its grip.

The room was silent except for his daughters labored breathing.  He saw that her eyes were open and she was staring blankly at the ceiling as she tried to catch her breath.  His own breathing was short and irregular and he took a cautious step backwards to the wall behind him, glancing at where Barley lay to his left and the motionless lump of feathers on the bar to his right.  The Brewer could now feel his heart pounding madly within his chest.

What would happen now?

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