The Devil's Pet

Chapter 4

Bill had recommended Monks as a quiet, dark place to have a drink within walking distance to the train station.  Sean figured a cop would know his bars so here he was. He thought it funny that a bar would imitate a religious monastery. But, then again in the days of old it was the Monks that were supposed to make the best grog. They were celibate so he guessed they had to have something else to do besides chant prayers and copy old bibles.

He paid the cabbie and stepped onto the sidewalk in front of Monks. The first thing he noticed was how shaded it was. He was standing near the corner of Wells and Lake with the “L” train tracks running overhead both streets. The combination of tall buildings and the massive train track structures filtered out most of the sunlight. Sean positioned himself in a large patch of shade.

Ever since Earl bashed his head, strong light made his eyes squint and his head throb. The sunglasses helped, but he still didn’t like direct sunlight. The doctors said the reaction to strong light would probably go away over time, probably. A moment later the ground began to shake and a train made a deafening roar as it rattled past overhead. Enough of this shit, he thought and headed for the door.

The front entrance had two large, heavy wooden doors that opened in the center. When the doors closed behind him, it appeared to be pitch black inside while his eyes took time to adjust. Even so, he left his sunglasses on while he walked farther inside. In keeping with the dark ages motif the double front doors opened to a vestibule that ended with a large center wall requiring that patrons walk to either side for entrance.

Sean walked straight in thinking he would find the bar but met the wall instead. His forehead struck first with a loud thud followed quickly by his knee and another thud.

“FUCK!--Goddamned son of a bitch!” 

He cursed loudly from the pain and surprise. He ripped the sunglasses from his face and could now see the wall in front of him. He was alone in the vestibule so no one saw what happened. He regained some composure and walked around the wall into Monks. He quickly surveyed the area and saw about ten people scattered around a large room. They were all staring at him. Fucking great he thought to himself. I wanted a quiet drink alone and now, what few people are here are all staring at me. Why not? He must have been quite a sight. His head and his left hand were bandaged; he walked with a slight limp, wore sunglasses in a dark room and apparently cursed wherever he went.

“Fuck it, I’ll fit right in” he muttered under his breath and walked directly up to an opening at the bar.

The grinning bartender looked at him and said “You OK mister?” 

Sean was in no mood for conversation. He fired back a terse look and said,

“Yeah I’m fine. I’ll take a scotch on the rocks.” 

With that he pulled a twenty dollar bill from his wallet and smacked it down on the bar.

The bartender got the message.

“You want the well brand?”  He said dryly.

Sean looked past the bartender to view the liquor racks behind him and said

“You know what, let me have some of that Jameson’s Irish whiskey behind you. Make it a double.”

The bartender nodded, took his money and went about making the drink. Sean leaned on the bar with his back to the room staring at the wall so he wouldn’t have eye contact with anyone else. Conversation was the last thing he wanted. He noticed there were a number of small statues tucked away on shelves and pictures hung on every open space on the wall. They were wedged in anywhere there was enough space along the full length of the bar and the wall behind it. All of them looked like some type of medieval religious figures. Makes sense he guessed since the place is named Monks that you would have those kinds of decorations. His curiosity up he started to look around more. Then someone said,