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nook, eating the last piece of the lemon meringue pie. He and his buddies had tossed around some ideas about their plan. They hadn't worked out all the details, but they'd at least agreed on the basics. A pair of shoes they could throw away so the tread pattern wouldn't match any shoes they owned. No coat or jacket with buttons that might fall off. Nothing that might be dropped at the scene: phone, wallet, watch, or jewelry of any kind. They'd wear black clothing. And rather than lugging around a five-gallon gasoline can, they'd use water bottles to squirt the fuel onto the tree. And they'd use matches so that they burned in the fire.

Spending the night at Adam's house was the best choice since his parents were less likely to check on them before morning. The trip to Lake Bantam and back would take two hours. They'd allow themselves one hour to park, walk to the field, and burn the tree. Therefore, they'd have a three-hour window to complete their task. To accomplish it all, they needed to leave Newman around one o'clock.

Their plan seemed easy. Too easy, they worried. But they were only burning a tree. The only foreseeable problem they considered: discovering that the tree had already been chopped up, supposedly releasing the demon.

Then what? Call Lou and Stella to ask for advice or assistance? Or hope that the demon wasn't on the hunt for them after all?

At that moment, Trevor visualized their plan in action. He wanted to work out each step of the process so they could be performed quickly without complications or detection. The only thing they hadn't thought of, which he now contemplated: what if the neighboring trees also went up in flames? Would the other trees burn easily once the demon tree burned?

*   *   *

Adam tossed himself onto his bed and yanked the comforter over his body. Staring at the textured ceiling, he tried to think about anything but the demon. Yet he couldn't help but imagine the tree burning to charred ruins.

He was excited by their plan. It made him feel like they were doing something important by fulfilling Jared's request. Once the tree was gone, maybe he'd finally be able to move forward without the weight of guilt and sorrow like concrete on his shoulders. Then he'd finally feel like his usual self again.

A thump in the hall outside his bedroom caused him to twitch with fright.

Adam glanced at the door, listening for another thump. Instead, he heard footsteps on the hardwood flooring. Lacking the typical stomp of his father, Adam listened for his mother to pass by his bedroom. But there was a soft knock on the door.

Whatever she wanted to talk about could wait until morning. So, he didn't respond.

Then the knock, knock, knocking softly on the door returned.

Jumping out of bed, he hurried across the room and opened the door a crack. "What? I'm trying to sleep."

The sight of his mother with blood smeared all around her mouth caused him to recoil in terror.

"Nothing bad ever happens, right?" she asked.

Adam slammed the door and locked it before rushing to his bed. "Mom!" he called out. "Mom, what's wrong? What happened?"

The doorknob frantically twisted left and right. "Nothing bad ever happens, right?"

"Mom!"

The door bounced in its frame as the doorknob twisted and she screamed, "Nothing bad ever happens, right?"

"Mom, please!"

Eyes wide with terror, Adam bolted upright in bed. His chest felt like it might rupture from the force of his hammering heart. Clutching the comforter, he looked at the door and then scrutinized the room. No noise. No frightening sight. Nothing but a nightmare.

But it had scared the hell out of him nonetheless. He swung his feet to floor, pulled on a pair of basketball shorts, grabbed his phone from the nightstand, and then darted out of his bedroom.

Conner's first thought when his phone rang: I've only been asleep, like, ten minutes. His second thought: Who the hell is it?

He saw Adam's contact photo on the screen before he even grabbed the phone from the nightstand. "Dude, what's up?"

"Let me in," Adam demanded. "I'm on your porch."

"What?"

"I'm outside. Come let me in."

It was after midnight and probably thirty degrees outside. Conner darted downstairs to the front door. "What the hell are you doing? It's freezing, you moron."

Dressed only in shorts, Adam trembled as he hugged his torso. "I know," he muttered, rushing inside and up the stairs.

Conner entered his room as Adam jumped into his bed and buried himself beneath the comforter. At the side of the bed, Conner asked, "What's wrong?"

"I had a nightmare. A really bad one."

"It was just a nightmare." Sitting on the bed, he asked, "You want to tell me about it?"

"No. Maybe tomorrow. I don't wanna think about it right now."

"Okay."

He slipped under the comforter and looked at the covered mound next to him. Adam always sought him out when he needed comfort and reassurance. Not that Conner minded. He liked Adam depending on him for support.

Adam shivered and groaned in discomfort.

"Hey," Conner said, "you should put some warm clothes on."

"I don't even wanna get outta bed."

"All right."

Conner relaxed more comfortably, preparing for sleep.

"I'm freezing," Adam whined. "Hold me."

Scooting close, on his side, Conner stretched an arm under Adam's head and wrapped the other tight around Adam's torso. He pressed his forehead against the back of Adam's head and chuckled. "You moron."

He situated himself against Adam's cold-like-sculpted-marble body. Almost instantly, Adam's lack of heat caused Conner to shudder as well. They both lay quietly until warmth finally overpowered the chill.

Then Adam said, "Talk about something."

"What?"

"I don't know. Anything so I don't think about the nightmare."

"That bad, huh?"

Adam nodded.

"Okay. Um . . . tomorrow I have to help Mom clean the house because we have, like, fifteen people coming over for Thanksgiving."

"It might be nice seeing everyone."

"Maybe. But that many people in the house is going to be a such a pain until they leave."

"We're supposed to go to my grandparents for dinner."

Conner

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