The Devil's Demeanor

by Hart, Jerry

  Nick immediately hung up and called Monica.

  * * *

  A dark figure raced through the woods of Augusta on all fours like an animal, but it was not an animal. It was a man who had once dreamt of doing this very same thing. He remembered the feeling of freedom and speed.

  He also remembered greeting Harvey Littleman and Robbie Patterson. It had felt so right, doing so. It was like saying hello. Greeting Robbie had been a little messy and a tad unpleasant, but that didn’t bother the runner too much. Greeting Harvey, however, had been very fun. The runner had hoped greeting Nick would be just as fun.

  So why didn’t he greet Nick? He’d had the chance when he’d opened his window, but something had kept him from entering the room. After seeing the list with the names, the runner knew he had to greet these people. He’d spent months tracking them down. He’d known where Nick, Yvonne and Monica were but decided to greet Robbie and Harvey first.

  Greeting them had been fun.

  So why couldn’t he greet Nick just now? The runner almost turned around so he could greet him properly, but the thought of that almost made him sick. Perhaps greeting Monica would be better.

  He kept running, picking up speed.

  * * *

  Pepper kept on barking as she scratched the front door. Monica groaned as she pulled her hands from the soapy sink and said, “I’m coming, bitch. You just couldn’t wait for me to finish the dishes, could you?”

  The tiny Chihuahua stared at Monica for a moment before taking up her barking again. Monica wiped her hands on a dish towel, rubbed her belly gently and then attached a leash to Pepper’s collar. The two (or three, technically) went out to the front yard. Monica stood patiently as the dog did its business. Monica wished she had a fence so she could just let Pepper out into the backyard instead.

  As she waited, her thoughts drifted to Donovan Scott. It saddened her greatly she couldn’t get in touch with him. Every call she had placed went unanswered. How would he react if he heard the news? She and Don had only slept together once, and she figured she had been his first, but once was all it took.

  The phone started ringing in the house. She’d left her cell in her room, and no one ever called the house phone.

  “Come on, heifer,” she said to Pepper, but the dog wasn’t paying attention to her.

  Instead, the Chihuahua was barking at some bushes at the end of the driveway. Monica looked, almost certain she saw something crouched there. She had only the light of the moon to see by.

  Suddenly, she saw white, glossy eyes.

  The phone continued to ring, but Monica barely noticed. Something was definitely crouched behind the bushes, and it was staring at her. It looked like it was made entirely of shadow, all black with white eyes.

  It slowly came from around the bushes on all fours, like an animal. Pepper was barking up a storm now, and Monica kept a tight hold on her leash. The figure took a few steps forward just as Monica took a few back. The closer it got, the more details she saw.

  The first thing she noticed was it wasn’t an animal but a man. The second thing she noticed was it wasn’t just any man—it was Don.

  “Oh, my god,” she whispered.

  Her fear slowly vanished, only to be replaced by confusion. It was Don, but at the same time, it wasn’t. He looked wild, with his skin too tight on his face and arms. His hair was shaggy and littered with dirt and grass. He was leaner than she’d ever seen him. She briefly remembered when he’d been a chunky kid.

  “Don?” she said uncertainly.

  Pepper had stopped barking, but the dog was all but forgotten now. Don was still on all fours, and he wasn’t looking into Monica’s eyes as she was at his.

  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. H
e 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

  Prologue

  “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.”

  Part 1: 2013

  Chapter 1

  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.”