The Devil's Demeanor (24 page)

Don tried to
watch his nephew without making it obvious. After breakfast, Conner and Jordan
played in the backyard with Monica’s Chihuahua. The dog had never really liked
Jordan, which bothered Don for one major reason, but she appeared to completely
loathe Conner. Every time he went near her, she tried to bite him.

Despite her
obvious dislike of Jordan, he still chased Pepper around the yard or let her
chase him. He seemed oblivious to the dog’s animosity. Conner saw it, though,
and seemed to relish in it. He baited Pepper constantly that morning and Don
simply sat there and watched. He knew he should be in his room, working on his
manuscript, but he couldn’t help but watch.

Shortly after
the birth of his son, Don took to writing. He wrote a thriller based loosely on
his own life, found an agent, and sold it to a publisher. The money he’d
received had been pretty good, but definitely not enough for his family to
survive on for long. Finding full-time work was difficult, and Monica worked as
a nurse. Don tried to devote as much time to his writing as he could.

But he couldn’t
pull himself away at the moment.

As he sat
there, he asked himself if he was prepared to raise Conner. If Jordan had
indeed inherited the curse, then he would be a handful all on his own. Throw
another boy into the mix, and you had a recipe for disaster.

The boys came
back inside a few minutes later; Pepper willingly stayed outside, staring at
them through the screen door that separated them. Don had an appointment to
speak with the detective in charge of Ivy’s case soon, but he wanted to talk to
Conner first. He wanted to know for sure that he was right about what had
happened last night.

Don stood up
from the couch and headed to his room. The boys seemed capable of taking care
of themselves for a bit. Jordan even appeared to be warming up to his cousin.
When Don booted up his computer, he stared at the screen for a long time and
wondered what to write next. He was two chapters into the manuscript, which
continued the story of the cursed brothers from the first book. Don took many
liberties with the story, and the results led to a much happier ending for
everyone involved.

Unfortunately,
that also led to very little story. Don couldn’t think of any conflict for the
characters—he’d spent the two chapters catching up with those characters. The
Stillman brothers, Peter and Tracy, had found a cure for the curse that
involved a magic serum. If only it were that easy....

He didn’t know
how long Conner had been standing at the door before finally noticing him.
“Hey, little man,” he said to his nephew as he turned off the monitor. “Can we
talk for a second?”

Conner stepped
into the room and stood just before Don. Now that Don had his nephew’s
attention, he didn’t know what to do with it. Finally, he said, “I know last
night must have been really scary.
 
Did
you see what happened?”

Conner
hesitated before nodding. “Lewis was hurting Mommy.”

Don raised his
eyebrows. “How was he hurting her?” He had met the man a few times and never
would have thought of him as violent.

“He grabbed her
arm and shaked her,” Conner replied. He seemed so innocent. He even held his
hands in front of himself and shook them, as if shaking invisible shoulders. It
was very forceful.

“Is that why
you...attacked Lewis?” Don didn’t know any other way to approach the topic, and
he no longer had time to beat around the bush.

Conner tilted
his head to the side like a dog and studied his uncle. “I didn’t,” he said
carefully.

“Your mom did?”

Conner nodded.

Don knew he was
going about this the wrong way. He had to try a different angle. “Conner, I
know what’s happening to you. The same thing happened to your dad when he was
your age.”

“What
happened?”

Don sighed.
“He...hurt people because he couldn’t control himself.”

“But Lewis
isn’t hurted; he’s dead.” Conner tilted his head in the opposite direction.
“Did Daddy kill people?”

“Did
you
kill Lewis?” Don asked flat-out.

The boy didn’t
grin. He just stared. And then he said, “No. Mommy did.”

Don abandoned
the manuscript for now; he couldn’t concentrate anymore. In any case, he had to
speak with the police and child welfare about adopting Conner. Adding the boy
to the family seemed wrong somehow, but Don knew there was no one better
qualified to handle the child’s situation than him.

Don considered
himself lucky that Jordan hadn’t exhibited any signs of the curse. Don knew it
was because he himself was different—the curse hadn’t affected him the same way
it had his brother. Therefore, it only made sense that Jordan would be
different as well.

Though Don was
different, he wasn’t immune. He still had nightmares about his own killing
spree five years ago. Without the creature to guide him (in its own demented
way), Don had committed himself to killing the five people on a hit list he’d
been talked into making when he was younger. He’d only managed to kill two of
the five—Monica had been on that list, as well.

Everyone on
that list had wronged him in some way, and he’d merely planned to pay them back
in some fairly harmless manner. The curse managed to corrupt those intentions
completely.

Don didn’t
think he would’ve hurt Monica that night when he’d walked into her yard,
looking like an animal, but just the thought of what could have happened
constantly sent shivers down his spine and kept him up at night.

He had been
able to control himself, however. Before going to Monica, he had visited his
best friend Nick Platt. Nick had been on the list because he had gone behind
Don’s back and dated Monica in high school. That event had garnered Monica an
honorary spot on the list, though Don knew she hadn’t dated Nick to be spiteful.
She’d simply gotten caught in the middle of a stupid quarrel between friends.

If it weren’t
for that list, Harvey Littleman and Robbie Patterson would still be alive.
Harvey had been Don’s elementary-school bus driver who’d just happened to yell
at Don and upset him as a kid; Robbie had merely stolen one of Don’s favorite
pencils. Don cursed the day he ever made that stupid list. His stepmom Yvonne
made it on there as well, but she lived halfway across the country and Don had
decided to save her for last.

Luckily, he
returned to himself before he could hurt anyone else. Somehow, he managed to
leave Nick unharmed that night. He still wasn’t sure how; the curse had
completely taken over by that point. He’d killed Harvey and Robbie without
batting an eyelash...because he hadn’t cared about them. Nick was his best
friend and Monica was the love of his life. And neither knew, to this day, what
was wrong with him. Don didn’t think he’d ever be able to tell them.

*
 
*
 
*

The doorbell
rang an hour later and Don greeted Detective Bushnell and the welfare worker,
Candice Moore. Ms. Moore was dressed in warm colors and gave off a pleasant
aura, which Don figured was ideal for this kind of work. He seated them at the
dining table and offered them coffee. The kids stood silently in the living
room and watched.

Ms. Moore asked
Don a few simple questions, including whether or not he was willing and able to
care for Conner. He answered yes. Conner would need guidance during his
difficult transition to horrific monster, and Don was confident he and Monica
could provide a nurturing environment.

Don didn’t tell
Ms. Moore any of that, of course.

She then talked
to Conner, asking him if he liked it here and would he want to stay full-time.
The boy should have won an award for his portrayal of a cute, innocent
five-year-old.

After the
interview, Ms. Moore said she saw no reason why little Conner couldn’t stay
with his uncle Don. Don then spoke with Detective Bushnell about seeing Ivy.

“I don’t see
why not,” he said, much to Don’s relief. “I wouldn’t recommend taking the kid,
though.”

They looked at
Conner, and though he wasn’t looking back, Don knew he was listening.

*
 
*
 
*

When Monica
returned home from work later that day, she agreed to watch the kids while Don
went to the police station. He found Ivy sitting in a holding cell, her feet
folded in front of her. She looked absolutely calm.

“Hey, Ivy,” he
said gently through the bars.

“Hello.” She
sounded dazed, vacant. She kept her eyes straight ahead of her.

Don looked
around to make sure none of the officers were in hearing range. There was
another woman in the cell, but she was asleep. “Ivy, I know you didn’t kill
Lewis.”

She finally
looked at him, her face contorted with confusion. “Of course I did. Who else
could have?”

Don took a deep
breath and said, “Conner.”

She gave a
startled laugh and then covered her mouth with a shaky hand. “That’s crazy;
he’s just a child.”

“On the
outside, sure. But we both know he’s different.
He
killed Lewis, and you
covered it up. To protect your child. I understand.”

Ivy shook her
head, as if trying to invalidate everything he said. “No one could do what was
done to Lewis,” she finally said.

“Not even you,”
Don replied. “Conner inherited his father’s worst trait, something passed down
from our mother. It’s not his fault, or yours.”

“Where is he?”
she asked.

“With Monica
and me. That’s why I’m here: to help both of you. Ivy, you need to tell the
police what really happened so we can get Conner the care he needs.”

“What kind of
help could he possibly get?”

“I don’t know.
What I
do
know is that you can’t take the blame for a murder you didn’t
commit. I fear for my family’s safety.”

Ivy pondered
his words for a moment. “When I met Ethan, he was strange, yet oddly beautiful.
I couldn’t put my finger on it.” She looked Don in his eyes. “Are you like your
brother?”

“I used to be.”

She smiled.
“Then there’s no one better qualified in the world than you to take care of my
son.”

She said no
more.

*
 
*
 
*

On the way
home, Don’s cell phone rang. He grinned when he saw the caller ID. “Hello, Aunt
Cynthia.”

“I saw the
news,” she said. “The murder. Isn’t Fairington your old neighborhood?”

“Yes, Aunt
Cynthia.” His grin faded.

“Anyone you
know hurt?”

How to answer
that? “Sort of.” Aunt Cynthia, Mom’s sister, used to watch him and Ethan when
they were toddlers. He had fond memories of going to her house during his
childhood. She watched Jordan every now and then as well.

She did not
know about Conner.

“Sort of? Oh
dear.” She paused. “Who is it?”

Don sighed.
“Aunt Cynthia, you’re probably going to be mad when you hear this, but...Ethan
had a son—”

Her
ear-piercing scream made Don pull the phone away. At first, he thought her
reaction was too much. And then he realized his mistake.

“Oh, no,
Ethan’s son is fine. His mom’s boyfriend was killed.” He waited.

“Oh, praise
Jesus,” she finally replied. “Poor Ethan....” She fell into a long silence as
she remembered all the times she spent with him. “He didn’t deserve what
happened to him.”

Don bit his
lip.

“So, why am I
just now hearing about the boy?” she asked. “What’s his name?”

“It’s Conner,
and....” How to proceed? “I just found out about him myself,” he lied.

*
 
*
 
*

“Goddammit,
Don!” Monica yelled. “You want me to lie to your aunt?”

They sat in the
kitchen while the kids played in Jordan’s room. Don had told his wife about the
conversation he’d just had on the way home.

“You’ve been
lying to her for years already,” he said, though he knew that would only make
things worse.

“I never lied
to her,” she countered. “I just never told her about Conner. She never asked.
If she had, I would have told her.”

“Even though I
asked you not to?”

Monica stared
at her husband for a moment, and then said, “Why did you want to keep him a
secret from your family in the first place?”

“It’s
complicated.”

Monica shook
her head. “Always that same excuse,” she muttered. “Don, I love you, but I
don’t like to know you’re keeping secrets from me. I don’t like it at all.”

He looked out
the kitchen window, to the backs of neighboring houses. “Ethan kept his other
life private, even from me. I wanted to respect that.” That was mostly true, so
he didn’t mind saying it to his wife.

She nodded,
seeming to accept it. “And now Aunt Cynthia wants to meet Conner?” she asked.

“Yep. Should be
fun.” He couldn’t have been more sarcastic if he tried.

*
 
*
 
*

Aunt Cynthia
lived twenty minutes away, in a nice, hilly neighborhood near the army base.
Don always loved riding through as a kid, and doing so now made him feel ten
years old again.

Monica sat in
the passenger seat of the SUV, with the kids riding in the back. Don couldn’t
believe how well the boys were getting along. It was as if they’d discovered
some kind of bond. Don wasn’t sure how to feel about that.

He parked in
front of his aunt’s two-story house, and the family marched up a large brick
staircase that led to the front door. Don rang the doorbell and was greeted
with a loud “Come in!” He opened the door, where he met two sets of carpeted
stairs, one leading down and the other leading up. He chose up, which could be
considered the ground floor, even though it looked like the second.

This house was
one of the most unusual he had ever seen. The kitchen and living room were up
here, along with two bedrooms—the master and another room. “Downstairs,” there
were another bedroom and a den.