The Devil's Touch (12 page)

The house began to stink of sulphur; the rain hammered on the roof, as if suddenly alive, a thousand demons screaming and flailing the air with fists of watery silver.

Janet cupped her breasts with her hands and gently squeezed, imagining Sam's hands on her body. She shivered in sexual anticipation as the wind and rain built in fury, pounding the home.

"Are you here?" Janet whispered.

The returning whisper came to her in a breath of stinking air.

Janet's smile was of the darkest evil. "Prince of the lower firmament, giver of light to the worlds beyond, I hear you and I will obey."

The perfume began to boil and steam in its glass container. Janet stood up and quickly stripped naked. She dipped her hand into the boiling mixture and it did not burn her.

She rubbed the mixture on her body, lingering long at her breasts and pubic area.

The wind pushed a tentacle of darkness into the house. The mist wound around Janet's ankle and traveled upward, to gather at her lower belly. Its touch was almost a caress.

The wind spoke to the young woman.

"I will do my best," she replied.

The mist snaked its way out of the house. The rain and wind abated in their furious assault. The tiny demons that seemed to possess each raindrop slipped back into the nether worlds.

Janet dressed in clean clothes, then poured the knockout portion into the glass of tomato juice she had prepared for Nydia. She knew Nydia liked a glass of juice each night before retiring.

On her way back to the den, she passed Little Sam's room, illuminated by a tiny night-light. The girl hissed her anger and fear at what was taking place.

Two halos of light had encircled the bed upon which the small child slept peacefully. The halos met in the center of the bed. One of the halos was pure white, clean-looking and brilliant. The other halo was dark and ominous appearing, with ragged edges and a filthy appearance. The halos seemed to be battling each other for control.

And the halo that was purest appeared to be just barely hanging on.

Janet tried to enter the room. A force prevented her from doing so, blocking her entrance with an invisible field.

"Leave!" she was instructed. "There is nothing you can do to prevent victory or defeat."

Janet backed away from the door and continued on to the den.

The child slept on, unaware that its future was being decided.

Judy Parish huddled on the front seat of the car. She was completely naked but not cold. She had been raped, but was feeling no anger toward her attacker. She had been beaten, but experienced no feelings of revenge for Will Gibson. She could not understand any of these emotions. Or lack of them.

The rain was now a quiet drizzle.

Judy looked over at Will. The man lay against the door on the driver's side. His breathing had slowed and his color had returned. He was naked from the waist down. He opened his eyes and looked at the teenager.

"How do you feel, Judy?"

"Strange."

"Yes, I know. I only became one of them a few hours ago."

"One of them. What am I?" She sat up on the seat. She made no attempt to cover her nakedness.

"I—am not certain," Will answered truthfully. "But I know that we are not—we have left some part of us behind and have entered into a new—dimension, I guess we could call it. Somehow I know it will all be explained to us a week from Monday. On October the thirty-first."

"Why then?" She reached over and began stroking his soft penis.

"I don't know."

She moved across the seat and bent her head. She opened her mouth and took him.

Will groaned and wound his fingers into her golden hair, and pushed his growing penis further into her mouth.

Just before leaving the Draper house, Sam said, "Halloween. October the thirty-first. That is when their time will run out. At midnight." He glanced at Nydia for confirmation; to see if she had received the same silent message. She nodded her head.

"But remember, Sam—all of you—Satan can and will change the rules in the middle of the game," Nydia cautioned.

"Game! Rules!" Monty said. "I keep hoping this is all a bad dream. That in the morning it will all be only a memory."

"I still have memories from the siege at Falcon House," Sam said. "Believe me, Monty, it isn't a dream; it's a nightmare."

"I still have doubts," Viv said. "I simply refuse to believe any of this is actually taking place. It's a joke of some sort, that's all."

"I believe it," Joe said grimly. "I don't want to, but I do. Well, I'm goin' home. Check on Nellie. I'm worried about her. See you tomorrow, Chief. Night, Viv, Father Le Moyne." He nodded his head at Sam and Nydia. Young couple spooked the hell out of him. Woman looked like a damned gypsy, and everybody knows them people are real funny. Can tell your fortune and all that stuff. Joe resisted an urge to back off the porch.

Sam glanced at his watch. Eleven o'clock. "We are reasonably safe on a Sunday," he said. "Covens don't like to tempt the Almighty too much. But not all of them fear Sunday. And if the Devil himself is here, Sunday won't make a bit of difference to him."

"That's nice to know," Monty said with a sigh.

"Bull!" Viv said.

Patsy had been amazed to see so many of her friends and fellow students at the Giddon mansion. It appeared that at least a full seventy-five percent of her class was in attendance. None of them appeared to be overly surprised to see her.

She walked up to a group of young people gathered near the black-draped altar. They were staring at the naked woman on the altar. She seemed to be in some sort of trance. Alma Nelson, a girl in Patsy's class, smiled at her.

"I was wondering when those goody-shoes of yours would begin to get dirty, Patsy."

"I'm only here to see what's going on," Patsy said with a primness that didn't quite come off. "I'll probably leave in a few minutes."

Claude Sullivan laughed at her. "No, you won't." Claude was sixteen, in Patsy's class. "You're not about to leave."

"I can if I want to," Patsy said defensively.

"Yeah, maybe," May Kendall looked at her and smiled. "But I don't think you really want to leave. 'Sides, look across the room, Patsy. Over there by that big picture of a man and woman screwing."

Patsy looked, squinting her eyes to peer through the gloom. She should have been surprised. Should have, but was not. For the past several hours, beginning with her struggles by the river with Jon, and ultimately her surrender to her lusts, Patsy had known she was only fooling herself; had been kidding herself about her feelings toward her faith. She had sensed something evil in this town some months back; had known it was real the times she lay in her bed and masturbated, allowing erotic scenes to play through her young fertile mind.

The girl sighed and let the Dark One have his way with her. She accepted the Prince of Evil. She drained her cup of juice and stared at the man and woman who stood quietly, looking at her, smiling across the room. The man unzipped his pants and removed his penis, holding it in his hand and smiling at the teenager.

It was Patsy's mother and father.

The old man opened his eyes, trying to make out the shapes standing by his bed. He could hear the sounds of his wife's breathing beside him. The man hoped she would not wake up and have to see what faced them out of the night. Was he awake? Marie Fowler, Dan Golden, and Jerry Jackson stood at the foot of the bed. Marie was still wearing her blood-stained sheet, circles of dried blood denoting where her breasts had been. The paramedics were dressed in hospital garb. The three were grinning at him, their grins a terrible sight in the darkness of the bedroom.

"You are old," Marie spoke to the man. "You have lived your time and more." Her words were hollow sounding, as if coming from far away. "But we are prepared to give you eternal life."

"I'm dreamin'," the retired farmer said.

"You are not dreaming," Dan said.

"I knew I shouldn't 'ave watched 'at 'oddamn movie 'ast night," the old man said. His teeth were in a glass by the bed, the words coming out slurred. "I 'new 'at sum-bitch would gimmie nightmares."

"He is a fool," Jerry said.

"Then we shall send them both to the pits," Marie said.

She stepped around the old four-poster bed and put a hand on the old man's chest. He tried to rise but found he could not. It was then, while he experienced the supernatural strength of the mangled woman and the coldness of her hand, that he knew it was not a dream. This was real.

He opened his toothless mouth to scream.

The bloodied woman covered his lips with hers. Her breath was foul, stinking of death. She gnawed at his mouth, sucking the blood that began to flow. Then he felt lances of pain in his mouth. The woman was eating his tongue. His mouth filled with blood. Beside him, his wife of fifty years thrashed on the bed as the paramedics sucked at her neck, pulled life from her.

Marie tore open the man's neck, lapping at the blood that erupted in fountains from the wounds. The old woman had ceased her strugglings. Only the twitching of her hands signaled that within her a spark of life remained. Soon that was gone.

The trio dragged the old man and his wife from the blood-soaked sheets, dragging them out the back door. In the darkness low growls greeted them.

The bodies were dumped on the ground. The two men and the woman lurched and faded into the night. The Beasts lumbered forward, red-rimmed eyes hot in the night.

They feasted.

Janet Sakall heard the car doors slam. Lying on the couch in the den, she smiled. Janet had no fear of Sunday. Very few in this coven did.

Janet heard the storm door open. She hid her smile. All was ready in her dark world.

For Sam Balon, a young man whose faith had been tested to the limits and had stood firm against the evil; a young man who had spoken with and fought alongside the mightiest of God's warriors ... his faith was again to be tested. As was his wife, Nydia. The town of Logandale was set to erupt like pus from a large boil, spewing its corruption over all who came near.

Sam stepped into the room.

"Hi, Sam," Janet said, smiling sweetly.

"You lookin' a sight better," Joe said to his wife. "How you feelin'?"

"I feel better than I have in months, Joe," she replied with a smile.

Something about his wife had changed. Joe recalled the words he'd heard back at the chiefs house: "Trust no one. Be suspicious of everyone. But don't be overt with your suspicions. Let them think everything is all right. We're outnumbered."

But Nellie? Joe couldn't believe she would be a part of such horror.

Joe tried to pretend that nothing about her had changed. But it was no good. She had changed. When he'd left the house, she had been pale and listless, her hair containing no body or life. Now, just a few hours later, Nellie appeared to be a new person. Eyes shining with health, color to her face. And what was that smell? Smelled like … Jesus! It was the odor of sulphur.

Joe sighed. Was any of this true? Was the Devil in Logandale? Aw, shit… he didn't know what to think or believe.

Nellie smiled at him and walked toward him, holding out her arms.

The phone rang.

Joe jerked it up, suddenly very much relieved for the interruption. "Yeah?"

Mille LaMeade down at the station. "Joe? Jim Peters didn't show for his shift. Who you want me to call in?"

Joe lifted his eyes, once more looking at his wife. Something was all out of whack here. He could feel it. Her eyes were so … strange. Is it my imagination? Am I letting my suspicions get all out of hand? Yeah … maybe. He didn't know.

"Joe? You there?" Mille asked.

"What! Oh, yeah. Ah—Mille, better let me come on down and check on that—problem. Sounds like we might have trouble. I'll be there in a second, O.K.?"

Joe turned and was startled to see Nellie standing right next to him. He had not heard her walk across the room. She licked her lips and he could see her tongue was no longer that sickly color he had grown accustomed to. And he knew—he
knew
—this was not the same woman he had loved and married. Knew she had somehow changed into … hell, he didn't know what she was, had become. It was … it looked like she was healthy. She was too healthy. No way, Joe thought, no way she could have been healed.

But maybe the Good Lord had healed her. Joe's thoughts went winging back more than forty years, back to that little country church in Kentucky, back to the words and actions of that visiting preacher who practiced the laying on of hands. Joe had damn sure seen a miracle that night; watched that old crippled woman throw away her crutches and
walk,
by God. Could that be it? Did God intervene here in some mysterious way, His wonders to perform?

Maybe. Maybe so. "We got to talk some, Nellie," Joe said. "We got to sit down and really talk some things out. We'll do that when I get back, O.K.?"

"Do you really have to go, Joe? It's so late, and—well, I kind of had plans for us, you know?"

Joe could not believe his ears. Did she really want to have sex? Nellie? She had not craved sex for more than a year. Maybe longer than that. No. No, this was definitely not the work of the Almighty.

Something shifted in Nellie's eyes as she looked at her husband. There is no love there, Joe thought, meeting her eyes. That's pure hate. But why? That was the question that vexed the police officer. Vex, he thought. Rhymes with hex. He again went winging back in time, back to the mountains of his youth, to the superstitions of the older mountain people, sayings and feelings he could still recite and experience chapter and verse. Joe felt cold fear wash over him. He grew uncomfortable under her hot gaze.

"Gotta go," Joe muttered. He felt a tingle in the small of his back as he walked out the door. He was sweating in the damp coolness of night. He was relieved as he got in his car. Glad to be out of that house. He looked back at the house. Nellie was framed in the light pouring from the picture window. He could see her face, dark with hate. Her eyes seemed to burn through the night. Joe pulled away. He did not think he ever wanted to go back there. He corrected that. He was
never
going back inside that house. Not if he could help it.