Who? Who Come Stewart House?

With Sam safely under arrest, Rebecca moved to her next problem. What to do with Johnno. He had a huge bee in his bonnet about Stewart Dew and couldn’t be calmed down.

A plan formed. She dialled Chris. By Christ she hoped he wasn’t still dancing round the backyard chanting gibberish.

He answered on the second ring.

“Hey babes, how’s my favourite little eco-friendly speech pathologist slash part time TV presenter slash face of our good friends at Myer?”

“I’m well, Chris, have you finished your ritual then?”

“Yeah, look babes, I got to thinking, what would Mr Pratt really want me to do at a time like this? Dance round the backyard like a drongo? Then I saw my watch and realised it was 7.30PM and that’s when I have to empty the bilge on his yacht, so I’m off to do that now.”

“Can you do me a favour? You know where Stewart Dew lives don’t you?”

“Of course babes, he lives in that big joint in Camberwell that looks like a gingerbread house. I don’t think its real gingerbread. Though he is always getting renovation work done.”

“Good, give me his address. But the thing is, and this is really important, as soon as you hang up, I need you to ring him and tell him to get out of the house, straight away, that’s really important.”

“Why?”

“Look, I’ll explain later babes, there’ll be someone coming around, and Stewart really doesn’t want to be there when he does.”

Chris gave her the address and promised he’d call Dew. He was as good as his word.

“Stewy mate, I’ve got a whisper someone is coming around to your house and you shouldn’t be home when they get there.”

“Who? Who come Stewart house?” the great beast asked, the phone tiny in his giant hairy paw.

“Just get out mate, do yourself a favour,” said Chris before hanging up.

But the beast was not easily driven from its lair. He had absorbed the essence of three crocodiles, a lion and various other powerful creatures in the last week. He was stronger than before, his eyes keen, and nose sharp. He felt an enormous strength within himself. He would lurk in the darkness of the hallway and await this mere human who dared challenge the Great Dew. He would strike swift and vicious. He would taste manflesh.