The Devil's Demeanor (19 page)

Craig nodded,
looking scared. “It was freaky. You must’ve been in a trance.”

Suddenly, Don’s
cell phone rang in his pocket. A look at the caller ID told him it was Dad.
“Hello?” he answered. And then he listened.

*
 
*
 
*

Two days later,
Don found himself driving to Florida with his dad. Uncle Billy had passed away
nearly a week prior of a heart attack. Yvonne and Liz stayed in Texas, leaving
Dad and Don alone for fourteen hours.

The trip was
uneventful but pleasant. Don was reminded of all the trips the family took when
he was a kid, back when Dad had that big van. He and Dad didn’t talk much
during the trip, which suited Don just fine. Whenever he was away from someone
for long enough, that person practically became a stranger to him. Besides, if
Don got too comfortable with conversation, he knew he would bring up Ethan.

He had been
puzzling over why he was so reluctant to tell Dad about his brother’s return,
when he finally figured it out: Dad still denied the existence of the curse,
even though he’d seen proof of it with his own eyes. Mom had been in full-on
curse mode the night Dad confronted her. And now Ethan was, too.

Don didn’t want
Dad to see his youngest son like
that
. His
real
son.

No. He
shouldn’t think like that. Just because Dad wasn’t his biological father didn’t
make him any less of a dad. Don couldn’t help but feel like a substitute son,
though. After all, Dad did tell him about how he’d almost left Mom when he
discovered she was pregnant with another man’s baby....

“Are you
hungry?” Dad asked from the driver’s seat.

“Not really,”
Don replied, looking out the window at the trees lining the long highway.

“I’m sorry to
make you miss work like this.”

“I wouldn’t
really say I ‘miss’ it,” Don joked. “Besides, I’m the one who’s sorry. Your
brother passed away.”

“He lived a lot
longer than anyone predicted he would.” Dad grinned proudly. “How is work
going?”

“Good,” Don
lied. “I’m going to start looking for a new job when I get back, though.”

“You don’t like
the place you’re at now?”

“Nope.”

They drove on
in silence a while longer. Don had been so close to mentioning Ethan.

*
 
*
 
*

Time had not
touched Uncle Nate’s house in Destin. Don couldn’t even remember the last time
he’d seen it. Had it been 1996? It couldn’t have been that long ago, could it?

It was late in
the day; Don and Dad were visibly exhausted, having left very early in the
morning. Uncle Nate stood on his front porch to greet them. Don grinned as his
uncle marveled at how much he’d grown over the years.

Inside, the
house smelled of fried fish. Though Don didn’t eat fried foods as much as he
used to, his mouth still watered.

In the dining
room sat his aunts Mimi and Lydia, as well as Uncle Johnny, who still bore a
faint scar on his neck. Don hoped the curse could only be passed by the
creature itself and not the cursed. As far as he could tell, his uncle was just
fine.

Don greeted
Nina and Candice in the living room and they talked for a while. The house got
even more crowded as time passed. Don was surrounded by relatives he hadn’t
seen in over a decade and was happier than he’d been in a long time.

*
 
*
 
*

The good times
ended once the wake began. Uncle Billy’s body was held in a tiny funeral home.
Nearly the entire Scott clan gathered inside, speaking to one another casually,
as if they were anywhere but a funeral home. Aunt Mimi spoke of how good Billy
looked in his black suit. To Don, he did look handsome and very peaceful.

All those
wasted years, and Don never got to see him before he died. Why? Don had been
living with Dad all that time, and Dad had made occasional trips here to visit.
But Don had never gone with him.

And then he
remembered the cave in Destin. Don had wanted to stay away from the place where
his mom had been cursed. He had only come now for the funeral, not just some
visit.

He looked
around at the family he hadn’t seen in a decade. He was unafraid of the
creature that lurked in this town because he was surrounded by love. Though
love was not a cure for the curse, it was at least a suppressant.

There were
tears at the funeral. Most of them came from Aunt Mimi, whom Don was seated
behind. Dad was seated next to her, and Don could see him sobbing quietly.

That was enough
to get Don going.

He’d never seen
his father cry before. At least, not that he could remember. Surely, Dad cried
at Grandpa’s funeral. But that had been so long ago. What about Grandma’s? Don
hadn’t attended that funeral a few years back because of school.

As the family
sat in the church and listened to the kind words from a few of Uncle Billy’s
friends, Don wondered where he would want to be buried when he died. Georgia?
Texas? Florida? Connecticut? He had fond memories of each state, but figured
Texas would be the best choice. He already lived there, after all, so he might
as well rest there.

He was snapped
back from his morbid thoughts when a gospel choir began singing. He wiped his
tears away and listened.

After the
funeral, most of the family returned to the hotel near Uncle Nate’s house. Don
changed into jeans and a T-shirt while Dad took a nap. The plan for the night
was to have a nice, big family meal at Uncle Nate’s house and then go clubbing
with the cousins.

But, first,
there was something Don needed to do.

Without asking,
he grabbed Dad’s keys off the dresser and snuck out. It was only three in the
afternoon, so he had some time to run his errand. He just hoped he remembered
how to get where he was going.

After ten
minutes of driving, he realized he had no idea where he was going. Destin
wasn’t that big, but he had never driven around in it by himself before, and it
had been a long time since his last visit. He knew to look for dense woods. He
also remembered a trail just off the highway.

The highway he
currently drove on was surrounded by trees. He drove slowly, for the trail
would be hidden on his right. He saw one and turned onto it, amazed at how long
it stretched on for. The trail was incredibly bumpy, and at first seemed closed
in by the canopy of trees. But then the left side opened up into a vast valley
littered with huge power lines. Don instinctively looked to his right and saw a
hill.

On top of the
hill was his grandparents’ old home.

The trail
finally curved to the right where two large manufactured homes rested. The one
on the left was practically enveloped in bushes; no one appeared to be home. He
studied the one straight ahead—his dad’s childhood home.

But that wasn’t
where he wanted to go.

He looked
beyond, to the creepy woods.

*
 
*
 
*

As he walked,
he remembered the tale Grandpa had told him: the one about the creature in a
cave in the woods. Don had been so young when he’d heard it, but he recalled
enough to know whatever had bitten Mom when he was a kid lived out here. He
planned to find it and...what? Could it even be killed? Would killing it end
the curse?

Don had seen
enough horror movies to consider that a possibility. But what could he kill it
with? He had no weapons. There were plenty of rocks lying around. If only it
were raining—the creature, whatever it was, seemed to fear thunderstorms.

Don suddenly
grew nauseated. A sharp pain took his stomach. It felt like his intestines were
being twisted. He hunched over for what felt like minutes until it passed
slightly.

When he stood
up, he saw the cave.

It loomed at
the bottom of a hill in front of him. He didn’t even notice it before the pain.
He stared at it now, wondering whether or not to climb down. He looked around
himself to get his bearings so he could find this place again later.

He decided not
to go near that cave unarmed, but at least he’d found it. And he knew it was
the right place. The pain had confirmed it.

After turning
around, he noticed his stomach easing the farther away he got from that place.
He knew it was a defense mechanism, to keep people away from it. That was how
the monster kept from being found all these years. But Don wasn’t going to let
that stop him.

*
 
*
 
*

He was back at
the hotel long before Dad woke up. The two of them got ready for dinner and met
Aunt Mimi, Aunt Lydia and the others in the parking lot so they could carpool
over to Uncle Nate’s.

After the
feast, Don, Nina, Candice, Jabari and Quinton headed out to downtown Destin.
The sun had set, but the neon lights from the shops and restaurants lit the
way. Don felt like he was in Vegas. The few hours he spent with his cousins,
drinking and dancing, were just what he needed.

When they
returned to the hotel, Don was drunk and his ears were ringing from the music.
Dad, surprisingly enough, was asleep again. Don settled down on his own bed,
feeling the world spin around him.

“Did you have
fun?” Dad suddenly asked.

Don jumped in
shock and then regretted it. He felt like he was going to vomit. “Yeah, a lot
of fun.”

“I wish your
brother could’ve been here with the family.”

Don had no
reply for that, though, in a way, he wished the same thing.

“There’s
something I have to tell you about your brother,” Dad said after a silent
moment. “Your mother didn’t kill Adrian; Ethan did.”

The room grew
silent once again. Don was almost glad he was drunk; it helped him to cope with
this news.

“Your mom told
me the night she died,” Dad went on, sounding sad and sleepy. “At first, I
thought she was just telling me that to hurt me. But, deep down, I believed
her.”

“It’s the
curse, Dad,” Don finally said. “It wasn’t Ethan’s fault.”

“There is no
curse, son.” And then he slept once more, leaving Don alone with his thoughts.

*
 
*
 
*

The next
morning, everyone had breakfast in the hotel’s café. The cousins reminisced
about last night’s escapades with smiles on their faces. There was one last
stop at Uncle Nate’s before Don and Dad were on the road again. It was late
when Don finally made it back to his townhouse. Craig and Corey were still
awake, Corey playing on the computer and Craig watching TV on the futon.

“Hey, man,”
Craig greeted in his usual way.

Don waved
wearily and trotted up the stairs to his room. When he got there, he called in
to work to find out his next shift was tomorrow night. He thanked Rosie and
hung up.

And then he had
a nightmare of Ethan stalking into his room and standing at the foot of his bed
for what felt like the entire night. Don had been so tired he couldn’t even
move anything but his eyes as he watched the dark silhouette of his brother.
Don’s heart had beat so hard in his chest it felt like lava was being pumped
through his body.

When he finally
woke, his bedroom door was wide open, despite the fact he had closed it. When
he went downstairs, he saw Craig playing on the computer. Don’s two roommates
seemed to be on that computer 24/7, switching out every few hours.

Craig turned to
look at Don, his eyes suddenly going wide. “Soon?”

Don stopped
just outside the tiny kitchen. “What?”

“That’s what it
says on your forehead—
Soon.
”

Don whipped
around to look at a mirror by the front door. He could see it all the way from
across the living room, written in red.
Soon.
He touched his forehead
gently, afraid the word had been carved there. He felt no pain, and found the
word rubbing off easily. “Lipstick,” he said to himself.

“Did you go to
a party last night?”

Instead of
answering, Don ran back upstairs and searched his room. After a minute, he
found what he was looking for. Lipstick, on his dresser. He picked it up and
returned to Craig.

“That’s
Neve’s,” said Craig. “Our old roommate—Corey’s ex-girlfriend.”

He seemed
maddeningly calm about this. Don gestured to his own forehead and said, “I
didn’t write this.”

Craig’s face
changed to that of worry. “I didn’t say you did. Who do you think did, though?”

Don scrubbed
the rest of the letters off and said, “I think my brother was in here again
last night. I thought I only dreamed seeing him, but....”

Ethan really
had been in Don’s room. He had been too exhausted to separate dream from
reality, which frightened him greatly.

“What does
‘soon’ mean?” Craig asked.

“I have no
idea.”

Returning to
work that night filled Don with dread, but he had to do it. Not only could he
not afford to miss another day, but he had to confront Ethan if he could. Don
almost feared going to sleep with his brother on the loose. But he had to keep
working, keep making money. Now that he was living on his own, he had
responsibilities he still wasn’t used to.

After seeing
Rosey off, he immediately began his rounds. Something was wrong; he could feel
it. There was a thick tension in the air. He had his cell phone on him in case
he needed to call the police.

He walked past
the movie theater and saw the gate was still partially open. He wondered where
all the homeless stayed, if not in there. Had Ethan bothered any of them while
he’d been in Florida?

Eventually, Don
found himself in front of a theater of a different kind—a playhouse. The mall played
host to a community-theater group. The entrance looked grand, with intricate
wooden doors fake lanterns set up on either side. There were posters
advertising plays like
Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat.
That play had been performed months ago.

He was about to
turn around and continue his circuit when he noticed the wood was splintered
around the doorknobs of the playhouse’s entrance. He pulled the door open.
Someone had broken in. He shined his flashlight inside.

He turned it
off once he realized it wasn’t needed.

There were
candles everywhere in the small lobby. There was another set of double doors in
front of him, so he opened them. A fairly large stage loomed ahead, lit by even
more candles. There were no chairs in which to sit, and Don found himself drawn
down the aisle to the stage.

Some people
were there. They were all dead.

Numbly, he
counted seven—men and women. Some of them had been decapitated.

When Don looked
down, he saw three heads by his feet. He recognized one of them as Amelia’s. He
suddenly couldn’t breathe. His heart hammered in his chest. He tried to leave.

A slow, loud
clap startled him. It came from the stage, but he only saw the bodies, arranged
in various poses and held up by mannequin stands.

Another
clap—slow applause.

“Did you enjoy
your vacation?” a horrible croak of a voice asked. From everywhere.

The speaker
system.

“It wasn’t a
vacation!” Don yelled in no particular direction. “Our uncle died!”

“Which one?”

“Billy.”

“I see,” the
voice replied after a brief silence. “I almost followed you, but decided to
wait and...keep your friends company.”

That voice
sounded so horrible through the speakers. Don willed himself to look back at
the homeless on the stage. “How could you do this?” he asked the terrible,
disembodied voice.
 
“Why are you
murdering all these innocent people?”

“I wanted you
to know I was coming,” replied the voice. “I wanted to remind you of how you
failed me.”

“What are you
talking about?”

“I’m talking
about how you failed to protect your little brother from the monster. You let
it take me that night.”

“There was
nothing I could do! Our mom had just died. I was in shock!” Don felt rage grow
inside him.

“You let the
monster take your little brother,” the voice repeated, this time from somewhere
on the stage.

“You gave
yourself to it when you killed Adrian,” Don retorted. “Happy birthday, by the
way.”

The slow
applause returned, and now a figure appeared from behind a curtain on the
stage. Don finally saw, for the first time in nine years, his brother Ethan.
And he looked more terrible than Don anticipated.

Ethan continued
to clap, his arms lean and sinewy. He wore a dirty red shirt and blue jeans.
His hair was a curly mess. And then there was that jackal grin. His eyes were
bright and glossy. “You remembered,” he finally said as he ceased clapping.

“July
twenty-seventh.”

“I never
thought I’d reach twenty years.” Ethan tipped his head back and laughed a
witch’s cackle. Don shuddered. “Does Dad know I’m back?”

“No,” said Don.
“I never told him.”

“Why not?”

“I didn’t want
him to see you like this; better to think you died a long time ago.”

Ethan’s
too-wide grin shrunk to what could pass for normal. “Why would you do that for
him? He’s not your real father.”

That stung Don
only slightly. “He’s the closest thing I have.”

Ethan nodded as
he jumped off the stage and walked closer to his brother. “Would you like to
hear what I’ve been up to all these years?”

“I know what
you’ve done,” said Don. “I’ve read the stories.”

“That was
after
.
I’m talking about my time with the monster. My time
as
the monster.”

Don tasted bile
as he recalled the pain in his gut outside the creature’s cave. “Tell me.”

“That thing
would never let me sleep,” Ethan began. “I probably stayed up for a week
straight after it took me. Every time I dozed off, it would hurt or scare me.
It wanted me to get used to not needing rest.”

“Why?”

“Because
it
doesn’t rest,” Ethan replied with venom.

“Why did it
take you?”

Ethan tilted
his head, a strained grin on his face. “Why do you think?”

“I don’t know.”

“Think!” he
snapped.

Don jumped in
surprise. “Because the monster wanted a son?”

Ethan shook his
head. “Because it wanted to be out in the world, without fear from the gods.”

Don thought
over that for a moment. “The gods?” He decided to ignore that for a moment and
move on to another topic. “That night, when Mom died, it was there to collect
her, wasn’t it?”

“It wanted both
of us,” Ethan replied. “It’s never taken two people before. It never knew it
could spread its influence like that. To a pregnant woman and her unborn
child.”

“Where is it
now?”

Ethan shrugged.
“Back in its hole, I guess. I escaped, and it hasn’t been able to find me for
some reason.”

“Did it tell
you to kill all those people?” Don asked heatedly.

“Not those
people. It made me kill a bunch of other people for it, told me they had to die
because they posed a threat to its kind. The people with the messages, though…I
did those on my own. After all these years, it drove me insane. Does an insane
person know he’s insane, Donovan?”

“Why did you do
it?”

Ethan took a
few steps forward. “I’m your baby brother. You were supposed to protect me from
the demon. Instead, you watched it take me away.”

“You went with
it!” Don yelled back. “Why did you kill Adrian?”

“Because he
hurt Mom.”

“That’s not the
only reason.” Don remembered the urge to do bad things over the years, most
recently wanting to stab Yvonne with the knives. “You couldn’t help yourself,
could you?”

“No, I
couldn’t.”

“That’s what
the curse is, that’s how it works.” Don felt sick again. He wanted to get out
of the stuffy, dark auditorium. He wanted to get away from Ethan.

He barely
noticed the candles closest to Ethan, and how the flames looked like they were
being sucked toward him. Some of the candles near Don were doing the same thing
to him, but not nearly as much.

“Well,” said
Don, spreading his arms before him. “You have me here. What’s next?”

“I’m going to
kill you so the monster can’t control you the way it did me,” said Ethan with
that awful cackle of a voice. “I escaped it, but it might take you over and
come after me again.”

“It can’t
control me,” Don said. “I’m different; the curse won’t affect me the same way.”

“Won’t it?”

Don felt
uneasy. “No.”

Ethan stepped
closer. “Are you sure? Otherwise, I’ll have to kill you.”

Don
wasn’t
sure. He didn’t even know why he’d said that. He looked to the candles again,
to the flames being drawn to him. “Let me help you,” he finally said to Ethan.
“There has to be a cure.”

“There is no
cure.” Ethan considered for a moment before adding, “Except death.”

“What if we
kill the demon?”

“It can’t be
killed.”

“Everything can
be killed!” Don was becoming frustrated by the conversation. It felt to him
like Ethan was drawing out the tension just to torture him.

And then it hit
Don. Ethan wasn’t going to kill him, no matter what happened.

Suddenly, Ethan
began to laugh and clap at the same time, startling Don. That jackal grin was
back and worse than ever. “I saw that look on your face,” he said. “You think
you understand me. You think I won’t kill you.” He stopped laughing and
clapping. And then he kicked a few of the candles over.

The stage
immediately caught fire.

Don turned to
grab a fire extinguisher, but before he could take two steps, he was grabbed
from behind and thrown through the air. He landed hard on the wooden stage,
onto a pool of blood. He was separated from his brother by a wall of flame. He
was also surrounded by bodies. He stood and saw his little brother run out the
exit.

Don looked
around for another exit. He found himself backstage a moment later. He was on a
landing, looking down into a fairly large room full of props. Everything
appeared to be made of wood.

He ran down the
steps and made his way through the cluttered room. When he finally made it to
the exit that led out to one of the mall’s many corridors, he found it wouldn’t
budge. It wasn’t locked, so it must have been blocked from the other side. He
turned back toward the stairs and saw the landing on fire. He couldn’t go back
that way. He was trapped in a room full of flammable material.

He was going to
die.

Don looked up
at the sprinklers in the ceiling. Why weren’t they being activated?

It took only a
second to figure it out. It took only a second longer to realize Ethan had been
planning this very night for a while. Don remembered how someone had been
tampering with the water pressure throughout the mall. It had been Ethan all
along—he didn’t want the sprinklers to save Don when the time came. But there
were other ways to put out a fire. Don looked around for a fire extinguisher.

The one he
found was empty.

He dropped it
and looked around again. He found a lot of costumes. They were stacked on racks
in the middle of the room. He quickly went through them and found a purple cape
that was thankfully flame-retardant.

Don draped it
over himself and raced back up the stairs. He wasn’t sure how bad the fire had
become, but he knew he couldn’t stay where he was. He was about to run through
the flames when he remembered how fire reacted to him. He always drew it toward
him when he got close enough. Surely he would catch on fire the moment he made
his move.

He had to take
that chance, though. Don counted to three and ran ahead.

He made it to a
clear patch of stage and looked around. The bodies were on fire. Don nearly
vomited at the sight and smell, but managed to keep himself calm. The closest
flames pointed at him like accusing fingers, but did not make contact.

Running through
the maze of fire, he managed to get off the stage. Most of the candles had
tipped over, adding fuel to the inferno, but Don made it to the exit.
Surprisingly, it was not blocked.

He took a deep
breath of fresh air in the playhouse’s lobby and immediately saw Ethan through
one of the windows, staring and waving. Don ran to the broken entrance. The
doors would not open. He kicked and jumped at them. He ran back to the window
to see his brother still standing there.

Smoke started
pouring from the auditorium, so Don closed the doors to buy himself some time.
He then grabbed a chair and hurled it at the window. Ethan didn’t even flinch
as the chair bounced off. That glass was stronger than it looked. It was also
lined with wooden frames. The entire playhouse looked like an old shop or
cabin. Don had found it intriguing, but now it angered him.

He wrapped the
cloak around himself once again and charged the window without hesitation. He
heard and felt shattered glass. Then he was in midair. He then landed hard on
the ground.

Before he knew
it, he was being pulled to his feet. Ethan’s hideous face greeted him.

Don reflexively
punched him in the nose. Ethan let go and backed away, hands to his face. Don
tried to recall his karate training from when he was a kid. He’d only gotten to
third-degree yellow belt, but that was enough to defend himself now.

Ethan lowered
his hands quickly and shrieked at Don. It was an inhuman sound, causing Don to
cringe.

“If you want to
kill me,” said Don, “you’re going to have to work for it.” He was amazed at how
calm he felt.

“You better
hope I kill you,” Ethan said in a horribly deep voice. “If you survive tonight,
I’m going to make you wish you hadn’t for the rest of your life. Everywhere you
go, I’ll be there. You’ll never know peace again!”

And then Ethan
lunged.

Don jumped to
the side and stuck out his right arm, clothes-lining his brother. Ethan fell on
his back, but was up again in the blink of an eye. He swung at Don and missed
by an inch. Don kicked at Ethan’s knee, and there was a noticeable snap.

Ethan fell to
the ground, grasping his injured left leg. Don stood ready for anything, the
blaze to his left utterly forgotten.

Ethan whined on
the floor like an injured puppy.

“I’m not
falling for that,” Don said.

Ethan
immediately ceased whining and slowly stood back up. His leg jutted at an
awkward angle for a moment before snapping back into place. “Why haven’t you
called for help?” he asked.

Don suddenly
remembered not only his work cell but his personal phone, one in each pocket.
But he said, “Because I want to finish this.”