The Devil's Demeanor

by Hart, Jerry

  A few times, Don thought he heard a noise from the rear of the house, at the end of the hall, but chose not to investigate. He knew his brother wasn’t here. Not yet, anyway. After an hour, his mind started to wander. He began wondering how he came to be where he was, how this curse had ruined his family.

  * * *

  He was abruptly knocked from his thoughts by a particularly bright set of headlights that shined through the window to his right. He looked around, having forgotten where he was. He heard an idling engine in the driveway for a moment. Then both headlights and engine cut out at the same time.

  Don’s heart hammered as he jumped to his feet. He suddenly remembered where he was and what he had to do. There was the sound of a car door closing, and then...nothing. Don waited, more nervous than he could ever remember being in his life. What he wouldn’t give to be with Monica again right now.

  But he had to do what he came here to do.

  A silhouette passed by the window, startling him. A moment later, a key was inserted into the front door. Whoever was there seemed to be having trouble with the lock.

  Finally, the door opened a crack, letting in the streetlights. Don saw a brown-haired man walk in, oblivious to any intruder. The man flipped a switch reflexively as he closed the door. His back was to Don as a ceiling light flashed on, lighting the entire living room.

  The man started to turn around just as Don pulled a gun from his jacket pocket.

  The man froze the moment he saw Don standing there, just before the kitchen, gun raised. Don saw his face clearly now.

  It truly was Ethan.

  “Oh, my god,” he whispered just barely loud enough for Don to hear. “I never thought I’d see you again.”

  Don didn’t know what to say to that. Finally, he muttered, “You lying son of a bitch.”

  “What?” Ethan was clearly confused by the response.

  “I called you a liar,” Don said, pure venom in his voice. “You promised to torment me for the rest of my life if I survived the mall fire. You made me think you were done when you suddenly stopped stalking me, but I know you were just letting me feel safe before it started all over again.”

  Ethan held up his hands in a placating gesture, a set of keys in his right. “No. I have stopped. I’m not like that anymore. I’m cured.”

  Don shook his head. “There is no cure, remember? You said so yourself.”

  “I was wrong. Look at me.” He patted his chest. “Do I look like a monster? I’m okay now. Put the gun down.”

  “No.”

  “Please. I’m your baby brother. You can’t kill me.”

  “After all you’ve done? Yes, I can. All those people you murdered...”

  That statement seemed to affect Ethan. His face changed ever so slightly. “I can’t change what I’ve done,” he said after a moment. “All I can hope for is to do right by my life from now on.”

  “Not good enough.”

  Ethan frowned. “This isn’t about anyone else; this is about you, and what I did to you.” He sounded so certain, so understanding.

  “This is about the evil inside of you. There is no cure for that. If I don’t kill you now, you’ll change and kill again.”

  “What about the evil inside you?” Ethan asked.

  “I’m different,” Don said stubbornly.

  “We’re both cursed, and you know it.”

  “I’ve never killed anyone.”

  “You’re about to kill me!” Ethan shouted. “What do you think will happen to you if you shoot me?”

  “Nothing will happen.” Don’s gun hand began to shake. He wasn’t so sure about his last statement.

  “Are you sure you’re here because you want to be, or were you sent here by the demon? Please, Don. I’ve changed. I found love and the curse left me. Love is the cure.”

  Don looked around. “Where is she?”

  “Asleep in our bedroom.”

  Don now knew what the noises at the end of the hall had been. “I can’t leave knowing you might come after me someday. I can’t!” He was close to tears, so desperate to insure his own safety from Ethan’s retaliation.

  “I’m trying to start a new life, big brother. No one really knows I’m back yet except my girl Ivy. I’m trying to announce to the world the safe return of little Ethan Scott.”

  “There is no cure,” Don muttered, sounding so much like Dad in his refusal to accept the existence of the curse. “You killed your own father.”

  Something flickered in Ethan’s green eyes. “He was our father, and that was an accident.”

  “When he saw you, he had a heart attack. He told me you were smiling.”

  Ethan’s face changed ever so slightly. A trace of that jackal grin appeared.

  “I see some of your old self peeking through,” Don said triumphantly, his gun hand steadying.

  “Are you really going to shoot me with Dad’s gun?” Ethan asked, his own voice deeper and resigned.

  “You recognize it.” Don actually sounded proud of his brother.

  “Sentimental value?” Ethan’s voice was even deeper. He was changing more by the minute. His eyes looked a lot brighter, less green.

  “I can’t live like this anymore, Ethan. I don’t want to live the rest of my life looking over my shoulder. I can’t.”

  Silence fell on the living room as the brothers stared at each other. And then, suddenly, Ethan’s face returned to its original state. His eyes became green once again. He said, “Do what you have to do, brother, to put yourself at peace.”

  With that, Don pulled the trigger.

  * * *

  The gunshot had sounded explosive in the small living room. Ethan flew backward, against the front door. His eyes and mouth were opened wide in shock. He slumped down to the floor, leaving a bloody trail on the door as he did.

  Don had shot him right in the heart. He immediately regretted it. A wave of repulsion washed over him as he watched his brother die. Ethan reached up and took Ethan’s hand. Blood spilled out of the dying man’s mouth, and he looked like he was trying to say something.

  Don leaned closer as tears spilled from his eyes.

  “Don’t...hurt them,” Ethan whispered. He then added, “I forgive you,” just before he died.

  Don was too stunned to think just now. Ethan’s eyes were still open, but they no longer saw anything. Don closed them gently. He felt nauseated and ashamed. He told himself he would rather be stalked for the rest of his life if it meant his brother could live again. But it was too late.

  “Oh, god,” Don said breathlessly. “What have I done?” He looked at the gun in his hand. It shook violently in his grip. Before he knew what he was doing, the barrel was in his mouth. It was still hot, but he didn’t care. He couldn’t live with this guilt.

  He deserved to die.

  Just before he could pull the trigger, he heard a door open somewhere in the house and a female voice call, “Ethan?”

  Don immediately came to his senses ran into the dining room. As he passed the hall, he saw a shadow standing there. He doubted she’d seen him, however. He was about to run into the backyard, but he stopped just in front of the back-porch door and watched as a dark-haired beauty walked into the living room. Her back was to him, and she wore a white nightgown.

  Her scream was heart-wrenching when she saw her boyfriend dead just before her.

  Don was about to leave when he noticed something. Ivy, Ethan’s girlfriend, had knelt down to Ethan’s side, giving Don a good view of her stomach. She was pregnant.

  Don’t hurt them, Ethan had said. He was going to be a father.

  Don raised his gun and pointed it at Ivy. He couldn’t stop himself. He couldn’t let her give birth to another monster. He just couldn’t.

  Ivy suddenly raised her head and turned around. Don was no longer there.

  * * *

  Don had almost done it. He’d almost shot a woman and her unborn child. Ivy had to be at least five months pregnant, from what he had seen of her b
ump. If she did manage to give birth, would the baby turn out like its father? Could Don let that baby live?

  Don was the last link to the curse, besides the baby. Though the curse didn’t affect him like it had his mother and brother, it was still there. Would it be passed on to his own children? That was just what the demon wanted.

  The demon. Don had almost forgotten his plan to confront it. Did the creature still dwell in its cave in Destin? He had no doubt it did. If it died, would the curse die with it? Don wanted to believe so, had to believe so. He had just killed someone—if he was wrong about his immunity, the curse would soon take over, turning him into a mindless vessel for the creature. He had to end this now.

  He was in his truck, speeding toward the nearest exit from the neighborhood. House lights were flipping on as he drove. Don hoped no one paid any attention to his truck as he left. He had to prepare for his trip to Florida. If the demon could be killed, then he would be the one to do it. If not, well.... Ethan had been delivered from its influence once and for all.

  Chapter 19

  Don was extremely lonely as he drove down the dark highway. He was reminded of all those summer road trips in Dad’s blue-and-copper van. Those were good times; this was not. He hadn’t slept at all since leaving Texas and wasn’t quite sure how he was still functioning now. He contemplated getting a hotel room and resting for a few hours, but he ended up passing every exit he came across. Pure determination fueled him.

  Or, at least, he thought so until he found himself flying into the median.

  He screamed as he came to a sudden stop. His breathing was quick and harsh as he looked around. He was surrounded by dark woods and long stretches of road with absolutely no other passersby.

  Don scrubbed his face with his hands and got back onto the freeway, vowing to go to the first hotel he could find. He didn’t even remember falling asleep. He was still shaken by how close he’d come to dying.

  The next exit he came across promised food and lodging. He was hungry, so he stopped at a Taco Bell and paid with cash. He then went to a Holiday Inn, paid with cash again, and fell asleep the moment his head hit the pillow.

  * * *

  He had a dream he was in a boathouse, and not just any boathouse—the one from the wallpaper in his childhood room, the one with pattern of a sailboat in the water. The little boathouse always frightened him because he could just see darkness in the open door and window and imagined something lurking inside. But now he was inside. He could hear the water from the ocean just outside, and though it was night, he could just see the sailboat from one of the windows.

  There was something else, though, just outside the door. A voice whispered, “Let me in, Donovan.”

  “No!” Don yelled in response. He was a kid again, no older than ten. “Go away!”

  “I can’t do that,” the voice replied, louder this time. “You killed your brother. You belong to me now.”

  Though he was a kid, Don remembered everything from his adult life. He remembered killing Ethan. “If I belong to you, why don’t you just take me?”

  The voice did not reply. Instead, it pounded against the door. It kept pounding until Don finally woke up. He rolled off the bed, ran to the bathroom and threw up. He had the presence of mind to avoid touching the toilet seat with his hands.

  After he finished, he looked out of the window and saw the sun rising. He was in Florida now, very close to his destination. He had a few things to buy before he confronted the demon, however.

  * * *

  He went to different hardware stores around Destin, hoping no one would realize the ingredients he bought could be used to make a bomb. He’d learned enough off the Internet to construct one, but had never practiced before. He hoped to get it right on his first try.

  By the time he was done making a few pipe bombs, the sun was setting again. Don wanted to attack during the day, but the anticipation was killing him. And if the nightmare was any indication, the demon knew his every move. It knew what he was planning.

  Which meant he had to act fast.

  He’d bought a flashlight at one of the hardware stores, so he could possibly go once the sun went down....

  It was decided. He would attack at nightfall.

  Don headed out while the sun was still up, but just barely. He remembered from his trek last year how to get to the cave where the beast slumbered. In the passenger seat was a backpack filled with bombs and flashlights. There was also a gas can and a few lighters.

  The evening was nice and warm, and he wished he could have been here on a better occasion, but he vowed, if he survived, he would live life to the fullest.

  It was much darker when he found himself on that long wooded trail to his grandparents’ house. He felt confident he would survive the night, whether or not he succeeded in killing the demon.

  Once he rounded the corner that would take him up the hill to the house, he made a U-turn, facing the way he had just come. He wanted to be able to leave in a hurry should the need arise.

  He grabbed the pack and stepped out of the truck. The old house with the cinder-block stairs looked so ominous in the sunset, but he didn’t let that deter him. He walked carefully toward it, softly humming a theme from one of his favorite action movies; that usually calmed him down.

  The front door was partially open. Don had wanted to go straight to the cave, but something made him want to go inside the house. Nostalgia, maybe. He pulled a flashlight from the pack and went up the stairs.

  He opened the door.

  Just inside was the kitchen, the sink on the left. He took a step forward and felt the floor give under his weight a little. He froze in fear, and then cautiously took a few more steps toward the hallway.

  Now he was standing just outside the living room. He remembered playing finger races with his cousins in this room so long ago. He turned and went down the hall. The first room on his right was the bathroom where he’d heard his mother being attacked by the demon. He only lingered there for a moment before moving on.

  Directly in front of him was a bedroom. He remembered when he and his cousins had spent the night here, before the attack. They had pushed two beds together to make one huge bed. At least, it had been huge back then. Now it would equate to a queen size at most. Don smiled at the memory of them all piling onto the beds to sleep.

  His smile vanished when he heard a noise to his right—the master bedroom. It sounded like an intake of breath. Don shined his flashlight inside but saw nothing except an empty room. The floor was covered with brown leaves.

  He backed away from the rooms and made his way toward the kitchen once again.

  He heard another breath, this one not so subtle.

  He quickened his steps.

  A harsh breath.

  He ran.

  The moment he stepped into the kitchen, the floor gave way under him. He fell for longer than he would have thought possible before finally hitting the ground. He looked around but saw nothing. He’d dropped the flashlight. He felt around but couldn’t find it.

  He reached into the pack and pulled out another flashlight.

  He was under the house, that much he knew. He looked up at the hole he’d just fallen through. He couldn’t reach to climb out, but he wasn’t sure he would even if he could.

  Something was up there.

  Don could hear nails clicking on the floor. It sounded like dog claws, but he couldn’t see anything. He turned off the flashlight and waited. The clicking footsteps circled the hole, but Don never saw a thing. It wasn’t that dark above, and he should have seen what was taunting him. He waited at least five minutes after the footsteps faded away. He wasn’t sure if the thing was gone, but he knew he was tired of waiting.

  He stood up, his head five feet below the hole. He jumped up, grabbed the edge of the hole, and began climbing out. There was nothing in the kitchen, however. He climbed out and stood by the front door, which was wide open. Did he leave it that way when he first came in? He couldn’t remember.
He looked outside and saw the red gas can still sitting where he’d left it, so he went to retrieve it and looked to the only other house at the top of this hill.

  The house looked as dark and empty as it always had, so Don ignored it and headed into the woods.

  * * *

  He started to feel nauseated the closer he got to the demon’s home. It was the exact same feeling as last time, the twisting of the guts. He kept going anyway; nothing would stop him now he had come so far. He’d killed his own brother because of this monster’s curse—

  Don suddenly dropped the gas can and fell to his knees. The pain grew worse. “You fucking coward!” he screamed. “You’re afraid of me!”

  The pain vanished.

  Don slowly got to his feet. He wasn’t sure if his words had made it go away, but he was grateful. He picked up the can and continued toward the cave. He could see it now, at the bottom of a hill. He climbed down carefully, looking around for any rabbits. He still vividly remembered the dream he had about the dog tearing off a rabbit’s head. The dream made him wonder if the dog was possessed. He dreamed it had gone into the cave and come out changed. Did the demon need a host? Hadn’t Ethan said so at the mall last year?

  Don planned to set it on fire, seeing as how fire responded to people who were cursed. He just hoped he didn’t catch on fire as well.

  He stood before the dark cave mouth for a moment, took a few deep breaths, and went inside.

  * * *

  The cave was cold and absolutely dark, even with the flashlight’s beam. There was also a horrible, sour smell in the air that burned his sinuses. He resorted to breathing through his mouth.

  The flashlight’s dim beam showed him the cave curved downward into nothingness. Don set the gas can down and pulled out the gun. Bullets probably wouldn’t do much against the demon, but it would provide some protection.

  And he’d rather be with it than without.

  Don then pulled out some duct tape and attached the flashlight to the gun so he could also carry the gas can. He felt overburdened to the point he worried he wouldn’t be quick enough when it counted.