The Devil's Demeanor (28 page)

“Honey,” said
Don, “I would never hurt you or Jordan.”

“I know you
would never
willingly
hurt us,” she replied. Don understood the
implication.

“You’re afraid
I’ll turn into that thing again, aren’t you?” he asked.

“I’m afraid of
our future together,” she said.

“I remember
when you didn’t scare so easily. I remember you venturing into those dark woods
when we were kids to look for my brother. And that was on Halloween night.”

“I was young
and stupid.”

“And brave.”

Monica suddenly
looked very angry. “Don’t even sit there and try to judge me! I don’t know how
to handle this situation. I didn’t know what I was getting into before I
married you!”

The wind had
been taken out of Don’s sails. He hadn’t told her anything of the curse before
they married. She had been thrown in, unprepared. It wasn’t fair to her.

“So,” he said,
“what do you want to do?”

She sighed. “We
just need some time apart. Just give me some time.”

“You got it.”

Cynthia
welcomed Don into her home for as long as he needed. She lived alone in that
big house and had plenty of room to spare. Don had brought Conner with him,
since it wasn’t Monica’s burden to take care of him. Plus, she was afraid of
the boy.

She was also
afraid of her own son, but decided to keep Jordan with her. He was her flesh
and blood, no matter what. Don thought it brave of her to care for a boy who
may turn into a monster one day.

Conner had been
set up in the room across from the master bedroom and Don took the one
downstairs, next to the parlor. The first few days had been horribly
depressing. All Don could think about was his family and how much he hated
being away from them. He missed lying next to Monica at night, feeling her body
close to his.

Now he had
nothing.

He felt an
unreasonable amount of hostility toward his birth father Stephen. There was no
reason for the man to hide from the creature anymore—it was dead. Whether
Stephen knew that or not, it was cowardly to stay hidden, leaving his son to
fend for himself. Don wasn’t sure if he even wanted to meet the man anymore. If
not for the cure he possessed, Don would forget about him entirely.

As he lay in
bed in the dim bedroom, he heard the mailman approach outside. He looked
through one of the windows, feeling like he was in a basement, and saw the
little white postal truck just behind the mailbox. The sky was completely
overcast, dampening Don’s mood further. He wanted to go outside and get some
air. He decided to get the mail while he was at it.

Though he
personally did not expect any mail, he found himself going through the
envelopes addressed to Aunt Cynthia and found one from a man named Stephen
White. Don’s heart sped up. This couldn’t be his father; the letter came from a
P.O. box in Texas. His Stephen, whose last name Don didn’t know, lived in
Florida.

Don raced to
his truck and tore into the letter.

“My dearest
Cynthia, I sincerely apologize for not calling you sooner. I have been through
a lot lately and have been forced to move. I saw
him
. I saw Donovan, and
I think he saw me as well. I don’t think he recognized me, but I’d rather play
it safe than sorry.

“He believes me
to be dead and I would like to keep it that way for now. He’s better off
without me in his life. I can’t thank you enough for what you’ve done for me
over the years. To be honest, hearing that Don is okay and seeing it for myself
are two completely different things.

“I will call
you once I have things set up here in Texas. Until then, please destroy this
letter and don’t tell Don about me. I may tell him in the future, but today is
not the day. Love, Stephen.”

Don reread the
letter several times. So Stephen moved to Texas, did he? Don used to live in
Texas himself. He checked the address and saw it was located in Haltom City. He
knew exactly where that was.

He decided not
to give the letter to Cynthia; he didn’t want her tipping Stephen off. Don put
the letter in his glove box and went back into the house. He then used his
aunt’s computer to check flights to Dallas/Fort Worth.

The only
question remained whether to take Conner with him or not. After what had
happened with the boy and the other kids in the parlor, Don didn’t think it
wise to leave him there with Cynthia. But he couldn’t very well take him,
either. There was only one person he could think of to watch Conner while he
was away.

He quickly told
his aunt that he had to take a quick business trip and was leaving Conner with
a friend. She didn’t seem sad to see Conner go.

*
 
*
 
*

Don tried
calling Monica but only got her voicemail. He left a brief message telling her
where he was going and that he wouldn’t be gone long. He then called a taxi the
next morning since he didn’t know how long he’d be gone and didn’t want to pay
for airport parking.

As the cab took
him to the airport, he thought about Nick’s reaction when Don and Conner showed
up at his house. Nick, his childhood friend, had been reluctant about taking
care of the boy while Don was gone, but changed his mind once Don said Conner
wanted to hang out with his “fun uncle.” Nick always took to flattery.

Once Don landed
at DFW, he rented a car. He hoped this trip wouldn’t take too long; he was
already eating through his book advance pretty quickly. The first place he went
to was a hotel. He was tired and couldn’t think straight about what his next
move should be.

Though he was
in a city in which he’d spent a significant amount of his young life, he felt
like he was in a foreign land. He had to make good use of the time he had here.
He had to find Stephen. But how to go about that, he had no clue. He supposed
he could wait by the P.O. box to see if Stephen would return, but there was no
telling when that would happen.

Nevertheless,
he found himself parked in a plaza in Haltom City. The box Stephen had used was
located in the parking lot. Don had been there for three hours, waiting with
surprising patience. If Stephen had used that box in particular, then perhaps
he lived in the area. The problem, though, was that there were so many houses
and
apartments it would be impossible to pinpoint exactly where his father lived.

His father.

Don’s father
was alive. He still had trouble accepting the man as his flesh and blood. If he
could only talk to him, get to know him. Patrick Scott, the man who had raised
Don as his own, was dead. Don didn’t want to replace him with Stephen. If
anything, he just wanted the cure. After that, he would probably never speak to
his birth father again.

Don definitely
wanted to keep Jordan and Conner away from him; he wanted the boys to grow up
thinking of Patrick as their grandfather. Why include Stephen in their lives
when the man was such a coward that he would abandon his family to the
creature? And if he found a cure, why didn’t he share it with Don and his
mother?

Don knew why.
Stephen had feared making contact with Hilda and Don because the creature might
have found him that way. Coward.

But now the
monster was dead. There was nothing left to fear. Don would tell Stephen that.
He would know the man long enough to get the cure. Not one second longer.

*
 
*
 
*

Just when he
decided to give up and return to the hotel, he saw a silver SUV pull up to the
P.O. box. A familiar-looking man stepped out and placed an envelope inside. The
vehicle had a Florida license plate. The man looked around warily and for a
moment, Don could swear he was looking straight at him.

Then the man
got back in the SUV and sped off. Don started his car and followed. He was
fairly certain that had been the same man from the beach.

After a few
minutes of driving, Don was certain that Stephen knew he was being followed.
They were alone on a country road, and Stephen’s SUV was gradually speeding up.
Don did the same, trying not to make it obvious. He wasn’t very good at tailing
people, so he wasn’t surprised that Stephen had discovered him. Don wondered if
he was being led somewhere.

Stephen sped up
even more on the highway. There were hardly any other cars on the road. Don
couldn’t let the man escape; if Stephen did recognize him in the parking lot,
he might flee the state. Don dreaded trying to find him again if that happened.

With that, he
floored the gas pedal and began to close the gap. He wasn’t going to let
Stephen get away this time. Surprisingly, Stephen managed to get his own
vehicle moving even faster. A small town was coming up, one that looked dead,
like the kind one would see in a scary movie—a ghost town.

Don was only
one car-length away and gaining. He couldn’t imagine losing the vehicle now
that he was so close, but Stephen floored the gas and turned left at a red
light. Without stopping. Don was so surprised by this that he stopped on
instinct before following quickly. He saw the SUV take a right far ahead. Don
pushed the pedal and turned, but he no longer saw the vehicle. And there were a
lot of turns up ahead.

He stopped dead
in the road and leaned his head on the steering wheel. He’d lost Stephen.

*
 
*
 
*

Don found
himself in a bar in downtown Fort Worth an hour later with a beer in front of
him. Most of the bars in the area didn’t get busy until the evening, so this
one was practically empty. He was grateful for that, though he did miss hitting
bars with his friends at night when he used to live in the area. Right now,
however, he wanted to be alone.

Stephen may
have escaped in that town, taking the cure with him. Don wasn’t sure how he
felt about that. Aside from the fact that the cure vanished, the man was his
father. And now Don would never get to talk to him, to ask him flat out why he
abandoned his family to the monster.

Don took
another sip of beer only to find the bottle empty. He flagged down the
bartender and found a surprise. “Craig?” he called when he saw who was now
working the bar.

The bartender
looked at him and after only a moment’s hesitation said, “Don?”

Don was
delighted to see his former roommate. They had lived together for a short time,
not far from the bar, with another boy named Corey, and that situation had
ended with the three of them being evicted—Don had paid his portion of the rent
and they had not. Since the eviction, Don and Craig lost touch. Until now, of
course.

“Man,” said
Craig, running his fingers through his short brown hair. “It’s been, what, five
or six years?”

“Something like
that.”

“What are you
drinking?” Craig looked at the bottle and produced a full one out of nowhere.
“On the house.”

“Thanks.” Don
accepted it gratefully.

“So,” said
Craig, “how’s life?”

“Shitty.”

“I hear ya.”
Craig produced another beer before Don even realized he’d finished his previous
one. “Marriage problems?”

Don, who had
been staring at his beer, looked up. “How did you know?”

Craig looked
surprised. “That’s what it usually is with the guys in this place. I didn’t
know you were actually married. Belated congratulations.”

“Thanks.” Don
pulled out his wallet and showed Craig pictures of Monica and Jordan.

“Husband
and
father. That’s awesome, man.”

“Thanks, bud,”
Don said, feeling a little better. “I love them very much.”

“You live here
in Texas?”

“Georgia.”

“What brings
you here?”

I was
looking for my birth father. I found him but he wanted nothing to do with me,
so he ditched me in a ghost town.
“Just visiting,” he said out loud.

“Thinking of
moving back out here?” Craig guessed in a joking way, but it caught Don’s
attention.

“It would be
nice to live here again. I miss it.” And he really did. He hadn’t realized it
at first. He had made a lot of friends in Texas, and the schools were nice. So
were the houses. Monica had never been to Texas before; she might like it.

Don slammed the
brakes on that line of thought. Monica wouldn’t just quit her job and move to
Texas, would she? It would be nice to move and have a fresh start, good for the
family, good for the marriage.

*
 
*
 
*

Don flew back
to Georgia the next morning with mixed emotions. If Stephen decided to flee the
state, he would take the cure with him, and Don was looking at a future raising
one—possibly two—monsters. All he could hope was that Stephen contacted Aunt
Cynthia again.

Other than
that, there was nothing he could do. He simply accepted that which he could not
change. He was excited, however, about the idea of moving back to Texas. The
family needed a change. Don wouldn’t make any final decisions until he talked
to Monica. He could tell they were on the verge of a divorce, that she wouldn’t
change her mind on that. She’d married a monster without knowing it. She had
every right to leave him.

Don was going
to do everything in his power to make sure that didn’t happen.

*
 
*
 
*

“Don, are you
crazy?” Monica asked, a shocked look on her face. “I’m not moving to Texas.”

Don stood in
the kitchen with her later that day while she cooked. The boys were playing in
the backyard. Nick had nothing but good things to say when Don picked Conner up
hours earlier. “Honey, it’s wonderful over there,” he said. “I think what our
family needs is a fresh start.”

“I already told
you what we need: some time apart.”

Don’s good mood
vanished. “Why don’t you just say it. You want a
divorce
.”

She turned to
him. “I didn’t say that.”

“You said it
before. Because I’m a monster who killed his own brother.”
And others
,
he almost said aloud.

Monica didn’t
respond, but he could tell she was angry. Not scared, just angry. “Have you
killed other people, Don?”

That caught him
off-guard. Was she a mind reader? “What?”

“In your first
book, the main character killed a few people. I know you based that character
on yourself.” She looked at him directly. “Have you killed others?”

Don was close
to tears when he said, “Yes.”

Monica turned
back to the stove. “Please leave.”

*
 
*
 
*

After returning
to Cynthia’s house, Don went to his room and cried. He and Monica were getting
a divorce. She was afraid of her own son and husband. She told him she wasn’t
going to fight him for custody of Jordan. That if he wanted to move to Texas,
he could take their son too. She still wanted to be a part of Jordan’s life,
only she wasn’t prepared to take care of him when he eventually changed.