The Devil's Demeanor (23 page)

He was staring at her pregnant belly.

He slowly reached a hand out to it. Monica
almost instinctively swatted it away, but she somehow managed to stand still.
He touched her stomach gently. She shivered at the feel of his hand on her, and
she hated feeling that way. But this was not Donovan Scott; this was someone
else—something else.

Finally, he looked into her eyes again. The
glossy look was gone, only to be replaced by more natural eyes. He stood
upright, like a man.

And then he began to cry.

*
 
*
 
*

Fours months later, Monica Scott gave birth
to a healthy baby boy. Don had been there to hold his wife’s hand, helping in
any way he could. Uncle Nick had waited outside the delivery room, eagerly
awaiting the arrival of his nephew. Nick wouldn’t have been there at all had
Don not denied having anything to do with the murders of Ethan, Robbie and Mr.
Littleman.

The police had never connected Don with the
murders, but Don knew he had been responsible. He would have to live with that
for the rest of his life.

Don and Monica named their baby Jordan. His
birth was one of the happiest day of Don’s life. Another was when he’d come out
of his murderous frenzy. Monica had been the one to pull him out. She was the
love of his life.

Ethan had been right.

Ethan.

Don cried in the delivery room when he
remembered his brother. Monica didn’t know the details of Ethan’s death, nor
did she understand what had happened to Don that night when they reunited, but
Don figured he would tell her one day.

*
 
*
 
*

When Jordan turned a year old, Don decided
it was time for the baby to meet his cousin. Don was frightened as he drove to
Ivy’s house, determined to meet his brother’s girlfriend for the first time. He
hadn’t called ahead; he’d just jumped in his and Monica’s SUV and drove there.

He knocked on the maroon front door and she
answered a moment later. Don was taken aback by how beautiful she was. He
hadn’t really noticed the last time he’d seen her, but now he noticed her olive
skin and gray, almond-shaped eyes. He couldn’t place her ethnicity, and that
only made her more exotic.

“Hello,” she said to him. “Can I help you?”

Don swallowed the lump in his throat and
said, “Hello, I’m Donovan Scott. Ethan’s brother.”

Ivy gasped slightly and said, “Oh.... Come
in, please.”

He did, carrying little Jordan in his arms.
Don immediately noticed a baby on the floor, its back to the front door. The
baby was playing with something Don couldn’t see.

“I’m sorry to drop by unannounced,” he said
to Ivy as he sat down on the offered couch. She sat down across from him on a
love seat, looking expectant. “My brother told me about you...before...”

“Before he died?” she finished for him.

Don nodded, looking at the mysterious baby
on the floor. “Boy or girl?”

“Boy,” said Ivy. “His name is Conner.”

“That’s a handsome name.”

“Thank you.”

“This is Jordan.” Jordan smiled, and Ivy
laughed. “I was unreachable when Ethan died, and couldn’t make it to the
funeral. When I found out, I was...devastated. He’d been missing for so long I
didn’t know if he’d existed anymore.”

Don started tearing up, but he composed
himself. “I wish I could undo what was done to him.”

“Thank you,” said Ivy as she too began to
tear up. “He spoke highly of you. He wanted so much to see you again. But he
was afraid.”

“Afraid of what?”

“Afraid of how you would react. I kept
telling him he was being silly, but he insisted on waiting for the right time.
He kept saying he would know when it came.”

Don nodded but said nothing. Ivy looked at
Jordan and said, “He’s so handsome. He has your eyes.”

“I know; it’s unfortunate, but I think he’ll
get by.”

Ivy laughed, and then stood and went over to
Conner. She picked him up and brought him back to the love seat. “Conner, say
hello to your cousin Jordan.”

The babies, five months apart, stared at
each other. Conner was holding an alphabet block in his chubby hand, chewing on
the edge. He then offered it to Jordan, who only stared at it blankly.

Don’s heart sped up as he looked at the
block. It had a blue K printed on it. He slowly looked at the other blocks on
the floor, afraid of what they might spell.

They didn’t spell any word he recognized.

He sighed in relief, deciding he would keep
a watchful eye on both children from now on. Neither Don nor Ethan had been
cured of the curse when the children were conceived; they could easily be
cursed as well. Only time would tell.

When Don looked back at little Conner, the
baby smiled as he returned to chewing on the block. Don smiled back.

And then Conner winked.

Book
2

“Machiska is
dead,” the master said from atop its throne.

“How is that
possible?” Carutha asked. The giant bat was bowed before its elderly, dying
master in a grand room filled with statues that lined the path from the door to
the throne.

The gray-furred
master looked at its servant with white eyes. Unlike common bats, these
creatures were not blind. “He was killed by a human named Donovan Scott.”

“Why was he
even in the above-world?” Carutha asked.

“I told him to
be. He found a way for us to live aboveground without fear from the gods.”

“That is
impossible, Master.”

“It is not. He
succeeded for many years before he was slain by the gods.”

Carutha grinned
a jackal’s grin. “Then he did not succeed.”

“Quiet, you
little bastard! I’ve never liked you, and I’d hoped Machiska would finish what
he started before my time ended. But now I must leave it to you. My death is
close at hand, and I want to know Machiska’s legacy will be fulfilled before I
go. I want to know my family will be able to live in their rightful place
aboveground.”

“How do I go
about that, Master?”

“Machiska
already laid down the groundwork. Your task will be made simpler. Re-establish
the link with Donovan Scott and his family. Machiska’s venom runs through all
of their veins. Machiska’s mind is our mind. You can tap into it, even though
he’s gone. You must make the Scotts do evil for your link to become stronger.”

Carutha didn’t
know what to make of any of this, but he said, “Yes, Master. It will be done.”

“Beware,
however. The gods don’t know whose bodies we control, but they do know we are
planning something. Machiska told me they’ve been communicating with Donovan
through something called ‘television.’ ”

“Why would they
do that, Master?”

“I was getting
to that, you fool! Donovan is the descendant of an angel sent here to destroy
us. That angel ran away from his duty and mated with humans. Donovan, as well
as the other descendents of the rogue angel, possess a way to travel to our
world. Machiska used Donovan’s brother to kill most of these descendants.”

“Why does that
pose a threat to us—this ability?” Carutha asked.

“You are a
fool! If the gods were to use Donovan while he was here, they could wipe us all
out in one swoop. He could do what the rogue angel didn’t. As far as Donovan is
concerned, he doesn’t know of this ability. His father did, but he’s dead now.
I want you and Mothello to use the Scotts to take out the rest of the
descendants of the rogue angel.”

“It will be
done, Master.”

The great, gray
bat convulsed and then died on its throne. Carutha crawled over and threw his
former master to the floor. Soon the room was filled with other giant bats as
Carutha took the throne for himself.

“Our former
master has named me the new ruler!” Carutha yelled. “And, it seems, we have
work to do.”

The moment Don
heard the news, he knew the time had come. He drove to Ivy’s house as quickly
as he could.

It had been
five years since his brother Ethan’s murder.

Keeping the
secret of that night had been tearing Don apart for years. There wasn’t a day
that went by where he didn’t regret his decision. But there was no way to undo
that night, and he planned to one day tell his wife, of all people, what had
happened all those years ago.

Don feared what
she would do when she found out. Would she leave him? He wouldn’t blame her if
she did. And she would take Jordan with her....

That worried
Don most of all. If Jordan turned out to be anything like his father, he would
need to be carefully looked after. Don had tried to keep a close eye on his
little nephew Conner as well, but he couldn’t be at Ivy’s house every day.

And now, look
what happened. Someone was dead. The time had come indeed, for Conner’s first
kill.

When Don
finally arrived at Ivy’s house, he found it surrounded by cops. It was ten
o’clock in the evening, but the whole street had come out to see what was going
on. Don parked as close as he could and made his way through the police and
paramedics, telling them he was related to the Petersons and that he’d been
called here. The man in charge—the one who had called—waved him in.

“I’m Detective
Bushnell. It’s a real mess in there,” the portly detective informed Don. “Be
prepared.”

That was all
the warning he got. He hadn’t even been told who had died. He stepped into the
house, which brought him directly into the living room. If he’d had a weaker
stomach, he’d be emptying it at that very moment.

Who knew the
human body held
that much
blood? There was some on the walls, but the
majority was pooled on the floor under the victim’s head. The victim, Ivy’s
boyfriend, was missing his face. It looked like it had been completely ripped
off. There was no doubt that Conner had done this.

Conner was only
five years old.

Looking around
the small living room, Don noticed his nephew wasn’t there. Only Ivy, who sat
on the couch, her hands cuffed behind her back, her clothes covered in drying
gore. That was unexpected.

“Ivy,” Don
called. She was surrounded by cops, and they stopped him. “What’s going on here?”
he asked.

The detective
pulled him into the adjoining kitchen and said, “Ms. Peterson is suspected of
murdering her boyfriend.” He nodded to the body on the floor, which was finally
being covered up with a sheet.

“Ivy didn’t do
this,” Don said with certainty, though he quickly regretted it.

“What makes you
say that, Mr. Scott?”

There was no
way Don could tell him that he suspected his five-year-old nephew of the
hideous crime. But there was also no way Don could let Ivy take responsibility.
Not if she was innocent.

To cover up his
comment, Don said, “That couldn’t have been done by a human being. Looks more
like the work of an animal.”

The detective,
satisfied with the response, said, “We figured the same. But we found tissue
samples under her fingernails. Plus,” he added, taking a breath, “she
confessed.”

Don nodded
slowly. He didn’t doubt she would take the fall for her child. He stared at
Ivy, sitting on that couch. Her face was blank, her eyes glossy and empty. She
had seen what Conner was capable of; she would never forget it.

“Where is the
boy?” Don asked the detective.

*
 
*
 
*

Don walked into
Conner’s room and saw a female officer sitting on the little bed. A little
dark-haired boy sat next to her, dressed in clothes that were
not
covered in blood. Both the boy and the cop held action figures in their hands.

“I’m his
uncle,” Don said to her. “How is he?”

“He hasn’t said
a word since we found him.”

“Do you think
he saw what happened?”

“I
know
he did.” She nodded to something in a corner of the room. “We found him in
that.”

Don saw a shirt
and pants on the floor, covered in dried blood. He stared at the mess for
longer than he wished to. Anger boiled up inside of him, anger at the curse
that had been passed down to Ethan’s son. Don had hoped it was over, that the
next generation of Scotts would be spared.

“Can I talk to
him alone for a minute?” Don asked the officer.

She nodded, put
down the action figure, and closed the door behind her.

For a moment,
Don only stood there, as far away from his nephew as the room allowed. Conner
stared at his action figure but didn’t play with it. Many thoughts ran through
Don’s mind, thoughts about what he should do with the boy. Ivy had named Don
godfather years ago, and he had gladly accepted.

Now,
though...now, all he wanted to do was destroy Conner. Now that the boy had
killed, he would turn into a monster the way his father had, the way Don had.

The way Mom
had....

Did the curse
have Conner now? The monster that started it in the first place was dead. It
couldn’t abduct Conner now and teach him to become a killing machine the way it
had done to Ethan. The moment Don realized this, he suddenly felt hope. If he
adopted Conner, he could raise the boy right, maybe even keep the curse at bay.

He kneeled down
in front of Conner and said, “I know what you did, but it’s okay. It wasn’t
your fault. I’m going to take care of you.
 
Okay?”

Conner finally
looked up and smiled.

*
 
*
 
*

An hour later,
Don was finally able to take his nephew home. Monica was sitting at the
dining-room table, nursing a cup of coffee. She jumped from her seat the moment
Don closed the front door. He looked at his worried wife as she approached
them. She was as beautiful as the day he fell in love with her, even though she
looked terrified now.

She kneeled down
and hugged Conner and said, “Baby, I’m so sorry.” She gently patted his back
and kissed his cheek.

Don adored his
wife. She had brought him back from the edge of darkness when the curse had
consumed him. He had seen her pregnant belly and slowly returned to himself,
ending the killing spree he’d begun.

It still
haunted Don to think he had actually shown up in order to kill her.

Thinking back
to that night made him shudder. He forcefully brought himself back to the
present and looked at his wife and nephew—godson.

“Daddy?” a
little voice called from behind Don.

He turned and
saw a little four-year-old boy with light brown skin and curly black hair. The
boy looked at Don with green eyes. “Jordan, look who’s here,” Don said to his
son. “It’s your cousin Conner.”

Jordan looked
at Conner with wary eyes. Surprisingly, the boys never really got along. They
were like polar opposites.

“Conner’s going
to be living with us,” Monica said as brightly as she could.

The house had
three bedrooms, and Don figured Conner could stay in the guest room.

All Don knew
was that he did not feel comfortable with the idea of Conner sleeping in the
same room as Jordan. Though Don didn’t know for a fact what happened in Ivy’s
house tonight, he did not trust his nephew. Not yet.

“It’s been a
rough night,” Monica announced, taking Conner’s hand. “Let’s get you set up in
your own room, little man.”

“I want to
sleep in Jordan’s room,” Conner said in a tiny voice.

Don suddenly
looked at the boy, and he could swear Conner had the ghost of a smile on his
lips.

Monica looked
at her son. “Jordan, does that sound good to you?” She was completely oblivious
to Don’s discomfort.

Jordan walked
up and hugged his father’s legs, hiding behind them. He shook his head at his
mother.

“Why not?” she
asked, a bewildered smile on her face. “He’s your cousin.”

Jordan didn’t
answer.

“Honey,” Don
broke in, “let’s just put Conner in the guest room for now and we’ll figure
everything out later.”

He’d said it as
kindly as he could, and Monica merely shrugged and escorted Conner to the room
at the end of the hall. As Conner passed, he never took his eyes off of Don.

While Monica
took care of Conner, Don tucked his son in. Jordan didn’t look the least bit
comfortable as he lay in his bed. Don didn’t blame him. “Are you okay, buddy?”
he asked his son.

“I don’t want
him living here,” the boy replied quietly.

Don sighed.
“Something really bad happened at his house and we’re the only family he has.”
Both of Ivy’s parents were dead.

“I don’t care,”
said Jordan.

Don ruffled the
boy’s hair. “I know. But it’s not his fault, what’s happened to him.” Don meant
that in more ways than one, but he couldn’t explain that to his son. Not now,
anyway. Maybe when he was older, but probably not even then.

Monica appeared
at Jordan’s door. “Conner’s asking for you,” she said to Don.

“Okay.” He
kissed Jordan on the forehead and left the room. He passed the master bedroom
to get to the guest room. Conner was lying in the twin-sized bed, the covers
pulled up to his chin. He looked so innocent.

Don sat at the
foot of the bed and said, “What’s up, little man?”

“Why can’t I
sleep in Jordan’s room?”

Don quickly
came up with a convincing lie. “Because his bed isn’t big enough for the two of
you.”

“Then why can’t
he sleep in here?”

Was Conner
testing him?

“Because he
doesn’t really like sharing things,” Don finally said after a brief hesitation.
“That’s how boys usually are.”

“I like sharing
things.”

“And that’s
good. That’s how boys should be. For now, though, let’s give him what he wants.
He’ll get over it soon, okay?”

Conner nodded.

Don sat there,
studying his nephew. He wanted to ask him what really happened tonight, to tell
him that he would understand if it was, in fact, Conner himself who’d committed
the murder.

But what if
Conner didn’t do it? There was no doubt in Don’s mind that he was responsible,
but in case he hadn’t, Don didn’t want to scare his nephew unnecessarily.

“Are you gonna
be okay tonight?” Don asked. “Do you need a nightlight or anything?”

Conner shook
his head.

“Want me to
leave the door open?

He nodded.

“Okay. Your
aunt Monica and I are right next door, so if you need anything, come and get
me. Okay?”

Conned nodded
again.

Don walked to
the door, turned off the light, and went to his own room. He and Monica usually
closed the door before going to sleep. Tonight, Don left it open.

*
 
*
 
*

A little after
midnight, Don thought he heard footsteps on the wooden floor of the hallway. He
listened wearily for a moment, looking in the general direction of his open
door, but when he heard nothing further, he went back to sleep.

Jordan,
however, did hear more footsteps from his room, and he did not go back to
sleep. He stared at his closed door, which was streaked with moonlight coming
through his opened blinds.

He watched as
the doorknob turned.

He watched as
the door opened.

Jordan covered
his head with his blanket before he could see who or what was standing outside
his room.

*
 
*
 
*

The next
morning, Don went to the guest room to check on Conner. The boy wasn’t there.
The bed was empty, the covers disturbed. Don quickly checked the rest of the
room to make sure his nephew wasn’t hiding. He then checked the bathroom across
the hall. Nothing.

He looked to
the end of the hall and saw Jordan’s door cracked open. His heart lurched as he
quickly made his way there, his bare feet slapping the floor. He was faintly
aware of the sound he made and how similar it was to what he’d heard last
night.

Conner had gone
to Jordan’s room.

Don stood just
inside his son’s room. There was something bundled under the covers, but Don
couldn’t tell what it was. He ran over to the bed. He pulled back the covers.

Relief flooded
him as he saw his son lying there, resting peacefully. But where was Conner?

Something
grabbed hold of Don’s ankle. He let out an involuntary yell of surprise,
scaring Jordan awake. Don looked down at the hand clamped to him. It was a
small hand, a child’s hand. A face appeared from under the bed, smiling up at
him.

“Good morning,
Uncle Don,” said Conner.

*
 
*
 
*

“You scream
like a woman,” Monica said to Don at the dining table moments later as she
placed two bowls of cereal in front of Jordan and Conner.

“It wasn’t a
scream; it was a yell. A manly yell.”

She laughed as
she grabbed herself a cup of coffee. Don looked at Conner, who was looking back
as he slowly ate his breakfast.

Did Monica see
what Conner had done? Did she understand what happened? Did Ethan ever tell her
about the curse before he died? Don wanted to see her, to talk to her, but he
doubted he would get the chance to do so anytime soon. He didn’t know the
procedure when it came to visiting murderers in jail.

He didn’t know
what he could do for Ivy. If she confessed to the murder, then that left him
with no options. He couldn’t very well tell the police that his five-year-old
nephew was the culprit. He’d probably get thrown in jail too just for sounding
crazy.

But Don
couldn’t let her take the blame for something she didn’t do. Especially if that
something was murder. If Don could somehow convince the authorities that Conner
was the one responsible, what would happen to the boy? He wouldn’t go to
prison, Don knew. Perhaps he would be thrown into some kind of special
hospital, where doctors would study him in order to figure out how he had done
that
to Ivy’s boyfriend. Would that be better than Ivy spending the rest of her life
in prison? Would Ivy even accept her son’s treatment over her own? Don doubted
it. If she was willing to take the blame in the first place....