The Devil's Son (Book 3 of the Jamison Brothers Series)

A Bitter Taste

Kale

Dad guides me to a seat in the front row of the courtroom. The room falls silent as soon as everyone is settled and ready to begin the meeting, aside from two pairs of heavy-footed guys who decide to sit next to me—my guess is Fletcher and Range.
"Hey," Range whispers to my left.
I nod toward him, "Hey."
A hand lands firmly on my shoulder and pats me. It startles me at first, like a little jolt of electricity sparks in my chest, but my mind is put at ease when I smell Fletcher's aftershave. He grabs my hand and places it on top of his as he brings a fist to his chest and moves it in a circle.
"Sorry."
A massive lump forms in my throat. Range and I have been working on ASL since we met Ashe and found out Fletcher would be mute. We needed to do something productive, and this was it. I never believed Fletcher would use ASL, but I was learning just in case. It's really hard for me, and I confided in a couple of customers at the bar who said they were in town for a CODA convention.
     My hand follows his as he makes a pinching motion from his open palm and brings his fingers to his temple to say, "Learning."
     It takes everything in me not to bawl like a baby. Shakily, I breathe a soft, "Thank you."
     Dad clears his throat from his place at the podium. He has taken the lead currently, but only as an interim leader. Robert, our dickhead of a former leader who I hope is having the time of his eternal life suffering in Hell, had formally appointed Fletcher as the next Head of the Elders.
     He had done it as an amends for all the wrong he had done to my brother, and frankly, Fletcher wanted nothing to do with Robert's last wishes. So, instead of taking Fletcher's no for what it was, the Elders decided to give him a year before he can make his decision final. So here we are, with Dad being the man in charge. None of the Elders wanted to take on that role, for very obvious reasons (old age, stress, etc.).
     "If I can have your attention please," Dad says, his voice a bit awkward. He's not one for attention, and that's all this position has given him.
Fletcher places my hand back in my lap as Dad starts the meeting.
"As you know, three of my sons and I have given ourselves to the devil," Dad sounds grim, "and with that comes the weight of unpredictability. We don't know when we will be called to fulfill his bidding, and we've been anxiously awaiting Dex's return. However, the time of his return is undetermined."
     If he ever returns, I think to myself. I'm afraid I might have lost my brother to Satan, and that truth terrifies me so much that I try not to think about it too often. Unfortunately for me, Dad has brought that fear to light.
     "Despite the pain my son's absence has brought to my family, I know we must focus on equally important matters," Dad says. I can hear his feet shifting against the carpet, "I know each of you have questions, and I know many of you have been left in the dark. Naturally, rumors and misinformation have begun to spread, and I'll be clearing that up tonight."
     I lean forward, my hands resting on my legs. I tilt my head to get a better listen as Dad drones on.
     "First rumor. My sons and I have been hiding Robert away," Dad's harsh tone stirs up a swirl of murmurs in the crowd, "not true. We have remained honest and consistent in our answers. Robert is in Hell, right where he belongs. Our leader was corrupt, desperate, and weak. He tortured my son for his own gain, and for that, I feel no remorse for his suffering."
And the murmurs intensify to outright talk, some of anger. One of which is Everette, whose voice booms over the crowd like a roll of thunder.
"Robert was everything but weak!" He calls out, "he was the leader we needed, unlike you."
"Sit down, Everette," Dad warns.
"No. Not until you tell us where he is."
"The devil took him."
"I won't accept that."
"Then don't," Dad's tone remains low, but no one should take that as a moment of calm. He is everything but. I can hear the raging fire in his chest, threatening to rise and burn this whole building to the ground, "it doesn't matter if you accept it or not. What matters is that he is suffering, and because of the role you played in Fletcher's torment, I hope you suffer too."
"I'm not afraid of you," Everette declares, yet there's a slight falter in his voice.
     Dad laughs, but there's no humor in it. He doesn't find any of this funny in the least bit. He's furious.
     "I've been shadowing you, Everette," Dad's laughter fades, his voice now hard as stone and cold as ice, "watching your every move."
     Everette is silent. Range leans in to describe to me the fear in his eyes.
     "I'd like to show you something."
     The doors to the courtroom open and several hasty footfalls rush into the room. Something accompanies those steps, something heavy being dragged on the ground. The people who carry it grunt with exertion, eventually letting whatever it is fall to the floor, just at the base of the podium. I know that sound, and I most certainly know that smell—blood. Old blood.
     "You know this man," Dad states as a matter of fact, and not a question.
     "I don't," Everette argues, but he's a little more apprehensive, "I've never seen him before in my life."
     "I don't like liars, Everette. Not one bit."
     "I'm not lying."
Chaos begins to unfold as talk among the crowd grows from a collective hum to raised voices and outrageous accusations.
"Someone went rogue!" They shout, "It couldn't have been Everette!"
An opposing group then spouts out, "Of course it was him! The guy is a twisted motherfucker!"
My brothers and I remain silent. Mom does, too. At this point, we're tired of the divide. We're sick of those who side with Robert. How could anyone side with a man like that? Don't they see what he did to Fletcher? Don't they care?
"Quiet!" Mom roars from her place by Dad. Her sharp tone draws everyone's attention, immediately commanding silence. And just like that, the room is so void of noise that you can hear a pin drop.
"I claimed this prey," Dad says, "I claimed him because he was a hunter, and he was in town to accept a payment from Everette. Your precious golden boy is stirring up trouble with men who want to mount our heads to their walls."
"I wasn't," Everette squeaks, "I was...I was.."
"What were you doing?"
Everette's stuttering halts, and it's like he makes a sudden switch. The fear, loss of words...it was all an act. His voice is steady, his words clear when he snarls, "I wanted him to torture you and your sons."
Intense anger builds up in my chest with the imminent threat to explode at any moment, I rise to my feet. I can feel my brothers follow suit. I'm itching for the feel of Everette's throat beneath my hands.
"Easy, boys," Dad says to us, "I have a plan."
     "A plan?" Everette snorts, "and what might that be? If any one of you so much as lay a single finger on me, I'll tear you apart."
     "Don't worry, Everette," Dad says. I can hear the smirk in his voice, "None of us will touch you. However..."
     The doors open again, and the steady gait of what sounds like two people turns my ears toward them. I can hear the static-infused murmur of walkie-talkies, the jingle of something metal, and the heavy rise and fall of their booted feet. They stop, and one of them clears their throat authoritatively. As if they've taken command.
     "Your colleagues will," Dad finishes, that smirk in his voice still prevalent, "I have collected evidence that proves you left town to solicit the aid of a hunter. You're under arrest for going rogue."
     A gasp leaves Fletcher. His arm brushes against mine as he falls into his seat beside me. I sit down, too, and I place a hand on his shoulder. Fletcher grabs that hand, his grip tight, like he's holding on for dear life.
     "No," I feel him sign.
     "What do you mean?" I ask, "Everette is getting what he deserves."
     "No," he signs again, and that's all he says. No. Does he not want Everette to receive the same treatment that was done to him?
     "You complain about how Robert ran things, and then you do this?" Everette grows louder with every word until he's practically shouting, "Don't anyone touch me! I'll walk on my own."
     It doesn't seem like the officers are listening. Dad certainly isn't intervening. None of us are.
     "No!" Everette screams. He lets out a grunt, and someone falls heavily to the floor with an oomph!
     Everette's shrieks ring out.
     "They just tased the hell out of him," Range mutters to me.
     His cries for mercy stop, but a series of low growl-like moans leave Everette. He sounds like a dying animal.
     "Everette!" His mom, Sandra, cries. A gust of rose-perfumed air swirls around me as she runs down the aisle to his aid, "how could you do this, Dallas?!"
     "I didn't do a thing," Dad says, "he resisted arrest."
     "Don't you remember how this felt? Don't you remember how heartbroken you were?"
     "I do," Dad replies coldly, "and none of you cared."
     One of the officers gets off the floor to help the other drag Everette away. His mom sobs the entire time.
     "Meeting adjourned," Dad hits the gavel, its resounding echo filling the shocked silence of the room.
     I can feel my heart pounding. Fletcher starts to hyperventilate, and all I can do is just let him squeeze my hand.
     It's funny how I thought this would feel good. I once believed that watching Robert and Everette suffer would heal a lot of wounds they inflicted on my family, but nothing feels better. This doesn't feel right at all. All I can feel is sick to my stomach.
...