Coming November 7
Excerpt
The Demon Series Part 8
The Path
Keeper of the Amaarand
Warning: Strong Language
Chapter One
Fairfield,
California, September 9, 1962
“It’s not him. I’m telling you. He’s upstairs in his
room.”
Ten-year-old Timmy Jensen sat up in bed. The clock
read one.
Footsteps rose on the stairs.
“Mom?” He climbed from under the covers and padded
to his bedroom door. Opening it a crack, he peeked out.
“Max? Honey?” She rapped lightly on Max’s door.
There was no answer, and she opened it.
“Max?” She flipped his light on. For a moment, she
stood silently in the doorway, and then collapsed onto her knees, falling
against the door.
Timmy stepped into the hall. “Mom?”
She threw her head back, her mouth agape, as tears
streamed down her face. His father kneeled next to her and took her into his
arms.
“Mom?”
“Go to bed, Timmy. Your mom can’t talk just now.”
His chin trembling, his father bowed his head and closed his eyes.
A knot tightened in the pit of his stomach. His
knees shook, and he gripped the door. “Did something happen?”
She screamed, and it was as if an ice-cold shard
pierced his heart.
His legs became heavy, his knees wobbling. He tried
to swallow, but his mouth was dry. “Mommy…Max?”
Chapter
Two
1968
“Hey, you’re the brother of that kid who was
butchered.”
Tim kept his eyes trained on the register. “That
was a double cheeseburger, extra pickles, a large fries, and a…”
“Medium root beer.”
“Right. A medium root beer.” He rang up the order
and gave him his change.
He wasn’t much older than Tim. In his late teens,
if he had to guess. For some reason, they were always the most likely to blurt
out the most inappropriate remarks.
Tim gathered his order and handed it to him.
“That was gruesome, man. What they found of your brother.”
“Do you seriously have nothing better to do, than
be a complete asshole?”
The teen pulled up. “What did you just say to me?”
“I called you out for the insensitive fuck that
you are. Who goes around announcing the body was found in pieces to a member of
the family? What kind of a person does that?”
“Jensen!”
Tim turned, as his boss came out of his office.
The teen grinned. “Ooo, it looks like someone’s in
trouble.”
“Bit difficult to be in trouble, when I no longer
work here, shithead.” He took off his hat and apron and tossed them on the
counter. “I quit.”
It had been the fifth job that summer, where
obnoxious customers would comment or stare and whisper, some even turning
around and leaving at the mere sight of him. It had been six years since Max’s
dismembered body had been discovered in the cellar of the Starke house, and no
one was about to forget it any time soon. After all, how often does something
like that happen in a town like Fairfield? Well, that is besides Starke. That
no one could determine how he was torn to shreds, and that it happened on the
anniversary of Starke’s execution, only added grist to the gossip mill.
It became clear he couldn’t work anywhere serving
the public, least not in this town. But then it had been all over the news. So
it’s not like he could just up and get a job in the next town over, or anywhere
for that matter.
No, he’d just have to come up with another plan.
