The Devil's Demeanor (32 page)

Don tossed it
in the basket and left the room. The boys were playing laser tag and wouldn’t
be back for hours. He went down to the den and turned on the TV. He then hooked
the camera to it and began playing the recording.

There was shaky
footage of Jordan and two other teens—a boy and a girl—walking through the
woods. Don assumed Conner was holding the camera.

The kids came
across a stream.

They found a
weird hole in the ground next to the stream—the one in which Mr. Leper was
buried.

More footage of
the kids talking around a campfire at night.

Then, nothing.
The recording ended.

Don relaxed.
There had been nothing to incriminate the boys in the crime, no footage of Leper
or his murderer. Don was about to stop the recording.

More footage
appeared.

The cameraman
was pointing the camera at a man’s back.

The man was
none other than Mr. Leper himself. He was standing outside a big tent. He
looked like he was about to open that tent when—

Something
seized the old man by the neck. It had been so fast that Don barely registered
it as a gloved hand.

Now the camera
was pointed downward and slightly back. Don could see Leper’s left foot
dragging against the ground. Whoever grabbed him was running very quickly
through the woods.

Don’s heart
hammered in his chest as he watched his former neighbor plunge headfirst into
that hole. Then the camera fell to the ground, pointing in the opposite
direction. All Don could do was listen as something that sounded like a dog
quickly shoveled dirt into the hole, burying Leper alive.

*
 
*
 
*

Jordan put on
his glowing vest and prepared himself for what was to come. He looked at his
fellow teammates lined up behind him. They were all pulling their own vests
from the rack and clipping them on. A large round target glowed blue in the
very center of the vests.

Being out of
the house and with friends was exactly what he needed. The kids at school
seemed to forget all about the event from weeks ago—oh, the attention span of a
teenager—and Dad slowly seemed to escape his “fog of torment,” as Jordan liked
to call it.
 
Still, it was nice to
unwind.

Conner, Erin,
Travis and a few others were on his team. Travis was helping Erin with her
vest, which she accepted reluctantly. They were clearly still having problems,
which actually pleased Jordan, though he’d never admit that to anyone. That
would make him sound like a monster.

And Jordan was
no monster.

“You ready?”
Conner asked as he aimed his laser gun at the wall in front of him. He looked
ready to kill.

After
witnessing a brief and cheesy instructional speech from an employee in an
“airlock,” the two teams—red and blue—were let into the battlefield. Jordan
took in the black-light brilliance of walls and forts. Arrows pointed in
glowing orange, telling them which ways to go.

The red team
flowed into the opposite end of the field and were setting up defensive
positions. Jordan barely saw them through the numerous obstructions as he
followed Conner to the top of the closest fort.

“Come on,” said
Conner as they charged up the ramp. “We can ambush them. They’ll try to sneak
up on us.”

Once they got
to the top, they hid behind a wall. Conner peeked around the corner and said,
“Here they come.”

Jordan heard
footfalls on the floor, felt the vibrations from the ramp. There were only two
ways into this fort. Suddenly, Conner jumped from his hiding spot and started
pulling the trigger. Jordan followed.

Two boys stood
there. Conner had shot one, causing the opponent’s red vest to vibrate and
flicker. Jordan shot the other, putting him into a ten-second delay as well.

“Fuck you
both,” said Conner’s victim.

“All’s fair in
love and war,” Conner replied with a grin as he started to run away.

“You
would
say that, fag!”

Conner stopped
in his tracks, halfway down the ramp.

“You left your
boyfriend behind!” the sore loser continued.

“He’s my
cousin,” Jordan supplied unhelpfully. He and Conner looked nothing alike, so he
understood the confusion. Though he didn’t like the name-calling.

“Whatever,
queer.”

The two red
members ran off just as their vests reactivated. Jordan turned back to his
cousin.

Conner was no
longer there.

*
 
*
 
*

Jack and Leo
ran down the ramp of the opposing team’s fort and began blasting every Blue
they could find. Jack was still fuming from the encounter he’d had with those
two Blues that ambushed them. The black one had claimed they were cousins. How
was that possible? Jack’s sixteen-year-old brain couldn’t process the concept
of interracial families.

Either way, it
didn’t matter. Jack had a plan for those two. If he could get the timid Leo to
go with it, that was.

Jack and Leo
looked alike, both with bowl-cut brown hair and freckles on their noses, but
they couldn’t be any more different if they’d been paid to be. Jack was the
adventurous type, Leo the rule follower. Jack didn’t quite understand why the
two got along so well, though Momma always said that opposites attract.

To be honest,
Jack just liked being idolized, and he got the impression that Leo adored him. Leo
hadn’t always had that distinctive haircut that was so similar to Jack’s. He’d
even taken to liking the same music and movies as Jack.

Some kids at
school thought it was creepy, but Jack didn’t mind. He and Leo were in their
own little world, where other people’s opinions couldn’t touch them.

He and Leo had
blasted a few more Blues as they made their way to the ramp of their own fort.
The “cousins” would probably head in this direction.

“What are we
doing?” Leo asked.

“We’re gonna
get those assholes back.”

“Why?”

Jack sighed.
“Because I don’t like them.”

“All they did
was tag us. That’s what they’re supposed to do.”

“I don’t care.
I’ve never, ever been tagged first. They cheated somehow.”

Deep down, Jack
knew they hadn’t cheated, but the mind was capable of convincing one of
anything
. And Jack’s mind told him those boys were playing dirty. So Jack had
to play dirty as well.

He had something other than simple harmless
revenge on the agenda. He wasn’t going to tag them; he was going to hurt them.
There was a particular spot in the battlefield that was completely hidden from
view. Whether it was put there for tactical reasons, or perhaps just a
structural oversight, Jack figured it would serve his purposes.

Jack and Leo stealthily worked through the
maze of walls and waist-high barriers, with Jack noting the glowing orange and
green markers. The spot he was searching for looked like someone had thrown a
bucket of orange paint on the outer barriers, hiding the niche beyond.

That niche was where he planned to take the
cousins. He just hoped Leo was up to the task. Though Jack thought highly of
himself, he wasn’t sure he could beat up two guys at the same time on his own.

After rounding a corner in the middle of the
battlefield, Jack saw the niche. The glowing orange paint made the area beyond
look even darker. The barrier was split down the middle, with just enough space
to squeeze through. Jack and Leo removed their vests and hid them behind
another barrier a few feet away. Then they creeped into the niche and waited.

After a minute, Jack saw the black cousin
walk by. He looked lost and confused. Jack was confused as well—where was the
other cousin? He was the one Jack really wanted. He was the one who’d most
likely planned the ambush that tagged Jack first.

Leo was about to leap out and grab the black
cousin when Jack stopped him. “Leave him; let’s wait for the other one. He
can’t be too far behind.”

They knelt in the darkness a minute longer.
Techno music blared from the overhead speakers. Jack’s knees and feet ached and
he started to feel like he was being watched. He looked about the outside and
saw nothing but colored walls and an occasional passerby. No one was looking at
him. There was no way anyone
could
see him in this darkness.

“Where is he?” Jack whispered to himself.

“Here” came the reply from the darkness
behind him.

The events that occurred at the laser-tag
arena Friday night were the talk of the school on Monday. Jack Goldsmith and
Leo Williams had suffered some kind of traumatic experience and had been taken
to the hospital. They hadn’t been physically harmed, however; their injuries
were psychological.

Both boys had been found in a niche in the
middle of the arena, wide-eyed and mumbling, their faces whiter than snow. The
facility’s employees had to call the cops and an ambulance just to coax the
boys out of the hiding spot. They didn’t speak of what had frightened them so.

But Jordan had a suspicion.

As he walked into history class, he noticed
Conner sitting alone in a corner desk, looking out the window. Jordan took the
desk next to him. Conner hadn’t said a word all weekend. They had left the
arena before Jack and Leo were discovered missing, and Jordan hadn’t even found
out until this morning.

It didn’t take a genius to connect Conner’s
strange behavior to the bullies’ attack.

When Jordan sat down, he got a horrible
feeling that stole the breath from his lungs. It felt almost like terror,
though he couldn’t explain the source. He wasn’t terrified...but he recognized
the sensation. And it had started the very moment he sat down next to Conner.

“What’s up with you?” Jordan asked.

“Nothing,” Conner replied. “What’s up with
you?”

“This is the first time you’ve talked since
Friday. Congratulations.”

“What’s my prize?” Conner asked.

“Me not telling Dad you had something to do
with what happened to those boys.”

Conner finally looked at him. “What are you
talking about?”

“I couldn’t find you that night after we got
separated. And when I finally did find you, your vest was unbuckled, like you’d
taken it off or something.”

“And?”

“So, it’s just a coincidence that the guys
that picked on us just happened to be attacked.”

“The world is full of coincidences.”

A silent moment passed before Jordan asked,
“What did you do to them?”

Conner stared at his cousin for a long
moment as the class continued to file in. Finally, he said, “I just scared them
a little. They deserved it.”

“Why do you think that?”

Conner scoffed. “Do you know what they were
planning to do to us? They were waiting to beat us up.”

Jordan let that go; he was focused on
something Conner had said earlier. “
How
did you scare them that badly?”

Conner grinned. “That’s for me to know and
you to find out.”

“All right, people,” Mr. Locke, their
teacher, called from the front of the class. “Settle down and let’s get today
started.”

The students settled into their seats. A boy
sat at the desk Jordan usually used, so Jordan stayed where he was. He’d never
sat next to the window before and found it somewhat pleasant, despite the
feeling he got from his cousin.

“I hope everyone finished their essays on
the Renaissance,” Mr. Locke went on, “because they are due today.”

Jordan didn’t care much for his history
teacher. Mr. Locke was very loud and a little too energetic for his own good.
The man was in his fifties, at least, and had this brash demeanor that appealed
to some and annoyed others. Jordan, obviously, was in the latter camp. So was
Conner.

Mr. Locke started talking again as Jordan
got to his feet, his folder with the essay in his hands. Without a word, Conner
handed him his own folder.

Jordan grabbed it and said, “Yes, sir. I’ll
dance for you and I’ll sing for you, too.” He did a little jig, much to his
cousin’s delight.

A moment later, Jordan returned with
Conner’s folder. “You asshole, sending me up there with an empty folder.”

Conner started at that, as if jolted by an
electric shock. He reached into his backpack and pulled out a battered essay
that had, apparently, fallen out of the folder. He took the folder from Jordan,
placed the essay inside, and then ran to the front of the class and started to
place it on the teacher’s desk.

“Mr. Peterson, do you mind!” Mr. Locke
yelled.

Conner froze in place, staring at the
teacher in shock. The whole class looked at Conner.

“I am trying to teach a class and you are
distracting everyone!”

Conner just stood there, his folder hovering
over the pile. He simply stared, completely motionless, like someone pausing a
movie. That horrible feeling returned to Jordan and his heart skipped a beat.
Even Mr. Locke seemed a little uneasy by this behavior.

“Mr. Peterson?” the man said, slightly less
angry.

That was the moment Conner chose to tip the
teacher’s desk clean over. It crashed to the floor with a sound as fierce as
Conner’s anger. The entire class was startled into absolute silence. Mr.
Locke’s face turned bright red.

Conner’s face was redder.

*
 
*
 
*

Of course, it wasn’t shocking when Conner
got suspended from school. Mr. Locke had wanted him arrested, but the principal
didn’t think flipping a desk was that illegal. Mr. Locke, however, insisted the
boy was dangerous. The teacher had seen it in his eyes, he’d said in the
principal’s office. Jordan had eavesdropped, of course. Mr. Locke had felt that
wave of evil wafting off of Conner. Jordan would have laughed at the melodrama
had he not also felt that “wave of evil” for himself.

Dad was none too pleased about the
suspension and grounded Conner for a month. That meant no TV, videogames or
hanging out with friends. Surprisingly, Conner didn’t argue.

Jordan had to face a barrage of questions
from his classmates in the days following the incident.

Was Conner on drugs?

Was he taking steroids?

How did he flip that heavy desk like that?

Did he have a girlfriend?

That last one came from a girl notorious for
getting into abusive relationships. Though one person in particular showed a
surprising amount of interest.

“How’s he doing?” Travis asked Jordan during
lunch.

“Um...okay, I guess.”

“I wouldn’t have imagined someone so skinny
being so...strong.” Travis was distracted, lost in thought. A moment later, he
came back to himself and added, “Tell him to get better and come back.”

“Will do,” Jordan replied, confused as ever.

*
 
*
 
*

Jordan was in the den, watching TV, when
Conner walked in and sat down next to him. It was a lazy Sunday afternoon and
Dad was shopping for groceries. Until now, Conner had followed through with the
grounding. For some reason, he decided to venture out.

“You shouldn’t be down here,” said Jordan.
“You’ve only been grounded for a week.”

“I know.”

Jordan turned to the news just to spite his
cousin. If there was one thing Conner hated, it was the news.

“You would want to check up on your
girlfriend,” Conner teased.

“Diedre Marshall is not my girlfriend.” And
then Jordan remembered something. “A lot of girls at school are suddenly
attracted to you after that stunt you pulled. Want me to get you some numbers?”

He nudged Conner with an elbow and raised an
eyebrow. Conner frowned at him.

“No thanks.” A silent moment passed before
he added, “You can get me some guys’ numbers, though.”

That struck Jordan like a ton of bricks.
“Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

“I’m gay.”

“Since when?” Jordan felt his IQ drop the
moment he asked. He truly was shocked.

“Since forever,” Conner replied, mercilessly
reminding Jordan of his stupidity. “I’ve been angry lately because I haven’t
been able to talk to anyone about this.”

“Am I the first person you’ve told?”

“No.”

“Who else knows?” Jordan found himself
strangely offended.

Conner sighed. “Travis.”

“Travis! Why would you tell...”

It suddenly made sense. Jordan thought back
to the time he caught Travis and Conner in that classroom during lunch, alone,
with Conner apparently upset. He even thought of how Travis and Erin’s
relationship had taken a nosedive. Had she found out about her boyfriend’s
sexual orientation?

“You and Travis were hooking up?” he asked
Conner.

“We
were
. Then he broke it off
with me. That time in class...”

“So, you
were
crying.”

“I was a little upset, yes.” Conner grinned.
“I’m allowed to show emotions, aren’t I?”

“I wouldn’t have thought of you as
sensitive. Or human.”

“You’re funny. You should write for Johnny
Carson.”

“I really should,” Jordan agreed, though he
had no idea who Johnny Carson was.

“I should get back upstairs before the
führer
returns,” Conner joked. He jogged out of the den and up the stairs to
his room. Jordan could hear his footsteps directly overhead. Why didn’t this
house have any carpeting?

Before he could ponder that question more, a
news story came on, one that wholly caught his interest. It was about Jack
Goldsmith.

He was dead.

Jordan didn’t even notice when Dad returned.
Jack had committed suicide, according to the story. He couldn’t live with the
horrors he kept seeing every time he closed his eyes, according to his
distraught parents.

“Jordan?” Dad called from the kitchen.

Snapping out of his daze, Jordan quickly
turned off the TV. “Yeah, Dad?”

Dad had only wanted to know what he wanted
for dinner, but Jordan had no appetite. He couldn’t stop thinking about Jack.
What did Conner do to that boy that was bad enough to drive him to suicide?

And what about Leo? Was he in danger as
well? Jordan made a mental note to visit him as soon as possible.

*
 
*
 
*

He told Erin his idea at school the next day
during P.E., and she asked if she could tag along.

“I don’t know,” he said reluctantly. “It’ll
be hard enough to get myself past his parents. Two of us will be pushing it.”

“I think his parents will think it’s
touching, two of his classmates visiting him, seeing if he’s well. My parents
would.”

“When you put it that way....”

Erin studied him as they ran laps on the
track. “Why do you want to see him all of a sudden?”

“It’s not sudden,” Jordan said defensively.

“You’re acting guilty or something. It’s not
like you did anything to them.”

Not me,
Jordan thought.
Just my
cousin.
“Those guys were at the
arena that night, you know,” he said.

“Were they?”

“They picked on Conner and me.” Jordan
couldn’t stop the flow of words. He was about to confess Conner’s possible
involvement in the incident. What was it about Erin that made him so
comfortable?

“Maybe Conner mentally tortured them,” she
joked, and Jordan almost laughed at how close to the truth she was.

*
 
*
 
*

Don sat in his narrow, dark study with a
phone in his hand. He’d tried calling Monica several times but kept getting her
voicemail. He really wanted—no,
needed
—to talk to her. He would answer any
questions she had, no matter how uncomfortable they were, just to have a
conversation with her.

It was nearly five in the evening and Conner
was upstairs, stewing. Jordan had asked if it was okay if he studied with Erin
at her house for a little while. Don didn’t see the harm; he knew his son had a
little crush on her and figured Jordan deserved some time with her now that she
was single.

Don laughed at how much he knew about his
son’s love life. Most parents weren’t fortunate enough to be as involved in
their children’s lives, and Don had been among those very people once. But then
everything changed at the dinner table when Conner made him laugh at the
situation they had been going through.

Now, though, things seemed to be turning
dark once again. Conner was involved somehow.

Don knew nothing of his nephew’s love life,
but he did know that Conner exuded some kind of negative vibe that Don could
feel in his heart. A cold, nauseating energy that scared the hell out of him.
Conner’s teacher, Mr. Locke, had pretty much summed up the same feeling when
describing the events that took place in the classroom.

And that was the main reason Don had
grounded his nephew: to keep an eye on him, to see if that vibe would go
away...or grow stronger.