It started as a secret.

Every Thursday night, a select group of Cedar Grove locals snuck into the back of Harmony Café after hours with mason jars, notebook doodles, and questionable ethics.

They called themselves the Cursed Cold Brew Club.

Their mission was to uncover the most dangerously refreshing cold brew recipe ever crafted and possibly, maybe even accidentally, summon a minor god or demon of chilled beverages.

Jo found out when she opened the fridge and it whispered, “We know what you brewed last summer.”

The club was led by Lenny, a former energy drink enthusiast turned occult caffeine mixologist. He wore fingerless gloves and referred to espresso as “liquid courage for the soul spiral.” Each week, they tested new brews with names like, “Sub-Zero Sorrow”, “Iced Despair, Light Foam”, and “Dark Roast of the Third Eye”. 

One member briefly sprouted a second nose for aromatic clarity and another claimed they could taste people’s secrets. In their previous meeting, someone blinked and saw the sacred guardian of over-iced beverage, the Cold Brew Ethereal Elk.

Jo finally confronted them during Extraction Ritual #9.

“Guys,” she said. “I found a miniature frost demon inside the French press. He was knitting. I think he’s settling in.”

Lenny nodded solemnly. “He’s our mascot now. His name is Steve.”

Jo sighed, took a sip of the brew and immediately remembered her third-grade teacher’s PIN number.

She made a new rule: Cold Brew Club was allowed to continue. But only if they stopped naming drinks things like “Frostbite Manifesto” and stopped brewing next to the mop sink.

They reluctantly agreed and Steve stayed.