The Devil's Touch (29 page)

"Mille and Joe will stand firm. So will Jeanne. I'm certain the ministers will do the same. I can't be certain about Monty or Viv, Desiree. We'll have to keep close watch on them. I—am hesitant to tell them of Satan's plans. It might prove detrimental; make them so nervous they would be vulnerable to his influence."

"So all we can do is watch?"

"I'm afraid so."

Sam left the priest and continued his inspection of the huge mansion. He saw Barbara Morton sitting alone in a small drawing room. She lifted her eyes from the Bible she was reading and looked at the young man.

"We'll make it," Sam assured her. He could tell the woman was badly frightened. "I won't tell you not to be afraid; that would be foolish. But I can tell you with enough faith, we can make it through this thing."

Barbara was a very pretty woman. In her late thirties, Sam guessed. A knockout when in high school or college, he thought. Cheerleader type. Big blue eyes, soft honey-colored hair, very fair complexion. And a good figure, too. She looked like the picture of a Southern girl. Sam said as much, trying to take her mind off their present danger.

"I'm originally from Tennessee," she told him. Sam picked up just the faintest trace of an accent. "I met John in college. Cambridge. He used to kid me because 1 never took the Devil very seriously. I used to laugh at horror movies. You know, about possession and Devil worship—things like that. John would never watch the shows. He said it was just too real for his tastes."

"And now?"

She met his gaze. "It's—real enough. John told me all about you. He's spoken at length with Noah and Father Le Moyne. You're quite a young man, Sam Balon."

Sam shrugged off the compliment. "1 did what 1 had to do, Mrs. Morton. Just like now—with all of us here. We're doing what has to be done."

"Barbara, please. And I think you're being much too modest, Sam."

Sam began picking up vibes; and he didn't much like the message in the silent pulsations. "All right. Barbara it is, then."

She closed her Bible, laid it aside, and stood up. A very good figure. Sam readjusted his original estimate of the woman. But something in the woman's eyes sent warning signals flashing in Sam's brain.

"I'm so frightened, Sam," she said. Her voice was small in the room.

Just as she stepped toward the young man, Joe called from the foyer. The shout was faint in the huge mansion.

"Excuse me, Barbara," Sam said. "You just take it easy. Everything will be all right. Bet on it. And," he added as an afterthought, pointing at her Bible on the table, "keep your faith."

Sam was relieved to be leaving the woman's presence. Barbara Morton was disturbing to him. Sam said as much to Joe.

"She spreads her legs from time to time," the man informed him in a low voice. "But she's real discreet about it. She don't give it away to just anybody."

"The
priest's
wife!" Sam was shocked and made no attempt to hide it.

"Yeah. She's human, Sam. 'Way I get the story, she likes more action between the sheets than her husband does. But she tries to be faithful to him. But John has what the doctors call a low sex drive. Barbara's in high gear all the time. But when that woman kicks it into overdrive, look out, 'cause she's gonna find her a man and get him in the saddle for some hard ridin'."

Sam stood for a moment, shaking his head. "Well, that tells me something then. I could swear Barbara was coming on to me in there."

"That don't surprise me none, Sam. She's one we're gonna have to keep an eye on. I just spoke with Father Le Moyne," he explained. "He told me what you told him 'bout the Devil and all."

"Joe, has the—have you heard any strange voices in your head?"

Joe smiled. "No. I think Old Lucifer knows to leave me alone. I think he knows none of his whisperin' would do a damn bit of good far as I'm concerned. I ain't the most Christian feller in the world; I've sinned—mostly with women. And I have asked for His forgiveness. Don't get me wrong, Sam. I
never
messed around none on any of my wives. All my sinnin' was done before marriage or in between wives. But I never lied nor stole or anything like that. I just don't hold with that sort of doin's. I wasn't raised that-a-way."

And Sam knew then that Joe might be killed by a bullet or knife; he was mortal. But Satan would never sway him by temptation.

"You're a good man, Joe."

"I'm just a man. No better or no worse than most others. Reason I called for you was to tell you 'bout that preacher's wife. But you done put all that together. She's a real looker, Sam. That there is what you'd have to call prime. We'll both watch her close. I think she's a good person in her heart. But to put it bluntly: she just likes to fuck, and that sums it up."

Sam laughed at the man's frankness of speech and continued his inspection of the huge mansion. The field of fire the house afforded was excellent. There was no doubt in Sam's mind they could be overrun by the sheer numbers—if Satan chose to go that route; but Sam did not believe the coven members would be allowed to do that. Too much danger of Nydia, Little Sam, and himself being killed. And he knew Satan had plans for the three of them. So it would be a war of nerves for a couple of days, maybe longer. Satan would attempt to lure the Christians into his camp with mental manipulations. Then, when that failed—and Sam hoped it would fail—only then would a lot of deadly force be used.

He hoped his assessment was correct.

"Sam?" Joe called from the downstairs.

Sam stepped to the balcony's edge and looked down. "Right here, Joe."

"That there Flaubert woman wants to talk to you." Joe pronounced it
Flourburt.
"She's waitin' by the gate at the stone fence, on the Giddon side of the line. You be careful, now. 1 don't trust that bitch."

My daughter, Sam thought. "All right. Coming down." My daughter. And the daughter of the Devil. And 1 know 1 will have to kill her someday. If 1 can, that is.

Sam carefully checked his weapons. Nydia met him at the side door of the mansion, in the kitchen. "You be careful, Sam," she said, kissing him. "It's a sure bet that while Xaviere is your child, she'll try to lure you into her bed to produce another demon child."

"Tell you what," Sam said with a grin. "Any genealogist who ever tries to trace this family tree will be a sure bet for the funny farm when he's through."

She matched his grin, kissed him again, and gently pushed him toward the door.

"My dear Sam," Xaviere said. She was standing by the gate that was the only opening between the two estates. The gate was locked and chained. She spoke through the heavy steel bars. "Or would you prefer I called you Daddy?"

"You'll be calling me a lot of things before this ordeal is over, Xaviere."

Her laughter was loud and evil, mocking Sam. "1 suppose so, Sam. We all watched you and Desiree. You're very well endowed, Sam. I am looking forward to your making love to me at some later date. Poor Desiree. I had no idea she was a virgin."

Sam said nothing. He continued to stare at the young woman through the steel bars.

"And young Jon Le Moyne had quite a time with Nydia, did he not? The boy is almost a freak in the sex department. But your wife certainly seemed to enjoy it."

"It won't work, Xaviere," Sam said. "Give it up."

"No, Sam.
You
give it up. It would be the wisest move for you to make. I'll make a pact with you,
Daddy.
Plant your seed in me and I'll let all of you leave. I give you my word that you all will be allowed to leave in safety."

"No deal," Sam said flatly. "I won't make deals with you or Satan."

She smiled at him. Licked her lips. "Am I that unattractive, Sam?"

"You know you're not, Xaviere. But I wouldn't fuck you with Satan's dick."

She flushed with anger, then caught her emotions and held them in check. She forced a smile. "How crude, Sam. But I won't accept your answer. Not until you have had the time to think it over. For the consequences will be—ah—well, unpleasant, to say the least."

"I can imagine."

"No," Xaviere said softly. "No, Sam. I don't believe you can. 1 know you went through much at Falcon House. But this time is entirely different. You're on your own. No outside help. Let me give you an example. I will order the Catholic priest to be slowly crucified; the priest of the Episcopal church will be raped, by men, in full view of you all. I shall have the prissy little writer skinned alive. That should prove quite amusing,
oui,
Sam?"

"Go on, Xaviere, act out your fantasies. Have a ball running your mouth."

"Oh, they are not fantasies, dear Sam. I assure you of that. Now let me see—where was I? Ah! I shall have the Baptist minister become a Beast; the Methodist to be beaten into submission and forced to become my slave. Mille I shall give to the men of the coven. Monty, I shall—"

"All right, Xaviere," Sam said, with a curt slash of his hand. "All right. I get your point. All sorts of dire and perverted acts lay in store for us. I'll relay your messages to the others."

She looked at him oddly. "Yes, I believe you will. Honesty. That queer Christian trait. Do tell them, Sam. But please remember, the only way to prevent their torture and abuse is to give me your seed."

"I'll pass the word along. That all you have to say to me, Xaviere?"

"You can't win, Sam. Not this time. Neither your God nor His warrior will interfere this time. And your God has forbidden your earth father to take a hand. You are alone. You and your pitiful little band of weak-sister Christians. It is now ten-thirty." She did not look at her watch but Sam did not dispute her word. "You will have until six o'clock this evening to reach a decision. After that—" She shrugged. "What will be, will be."

Sam grinned. "Yeah. I saw that old movie on TV some years ago."

"What!"

"Never mind. All right, Xaviere, I'll deliver the good word from you. Anything else?"

"Nothing. Except do not be foolish, Sam. You've put yourself into a box at the Fox Estate. I don't know why you did it. But it is done. And you cannot undo it. Believe this, Sam: You cannot, you
will not
be allowed to leave. Not unless my conditions are met. Goodbye, Sam. We shall be seeing each other again—very soon."

"Yes. I'm rather certain of that, Xaviere. Wish I could say I looked forward to it."

He watched her walk away, disappearing into the Giddon House. He had tried to see himself in any part of the young woman, but could not. It was almost impossible for him to believe she was of his seed. But she was. He walked back into the mansion and gathered everybody in the large study. There, he told them, word for word, what Xaviere had told him.

There were a number of oohhs and aahhs and one or two "gross-out!" and several cuss words. Richard asked, "Do you think she means it, Sam?"

"Every word of it, Richard. Don't any of you doubt it for a second. Those people are unparalleled when it comes to savagery and cruelty. They enjoy it."

"If she were to become impregnated by your seed, Sam," Monty asked, "what would the—baby be?"

"A demon-child," Noah told him. "But Xaviere would not die birthing it, as Roma did. But just as Xaviere is, the child could not be killed. It would be a pure spawn of Satan. And just as Xaviere will, the child would live forever."

"A demon cannot be killed?" Joe asked. "How come that is?"

"They can't be killed by a mortal," Father Le Moyne told him. "Not unless the mortal is blessed." He looked at Sam in an odd way.

Sam did not catch the strange look.

"So what is going to happen to us, and when?" Viv asked.

"For the next couple of days," Sam replied, "my guess would be nothing much. It will be a battle of nerves, mostly. Satan will attempt to sway you with whispered promises, promises of all sorts of things. He'll try to tempt you, play on your weaknesses, anything to make you fall from grace. When that fails, then they use force." He shrugged his muscular shoulders. "But I could be wrong. The coven members might try to beat down the front door tonight. We're just going to have to be very careful and stay alert at all times."

"Let's get some lunch," Nydia suggested. "We could all use a good meal. And this afternoon, we'll take shifts resting. It's the night we have to fear."

"They're out there, aren't they?" Monty asked. He stood beside Sam, in a large room facing the road that ran in front of the mansion. Night had wrapped its cloak over the land, and the gathering purple was deep.

"Yes," the young man replied. "Watching. Waiting for us to make some sort of mistake. But they haven't set foot on this property. Not yet."

"I wonder why they haven't."

"I don't know."

A pitiful howling moan reached the ears of those in the mansion. The sound was that of a human being who had reached the end of his endurance, before sliding off into death or insanity.

"What in God's name was that?" Monty asked.

"They're torturing people." Sam's response was bluntly offered. "Get used to it. You're going to hear a lot of it before this is over."

The voice shrieked once more, the awful yowling of pain ending with a hideous tapering bubble of agony. The sounds of hammering reached the mansion.

Footsteps came up softly behind the two men. They turned to face Father Le Moyne.

"I wonder what they are building in the dead of night?" the priest asked.

"Crosses would be my guess," Sam replied. "They're crucifying people."

Father Le Moyne signed the cross and bent his head for a moment. He sighed deeply and shook his head in disgust and sorrow. "I wish there were something we could do for those poor people in torment."

"Hey, the house!" A man's harsh voice cut the night. The man was speaking through a bullhorn. "We got Old Man Fontaine all nailed up proper. We're makin' bets as to how long he'll last 'fore his heart quits on him. Any of you folks want to buy into the bettin'?"

"There is no limit to man's inhumanity to his fellow man," Father Le Moyne said. "Not when Satan is at the helm of the ship."

"Oh, God, it hurts!" a girl's voice cried into the deep night. "For the love of God, somebody please help me. I can't stand the pain." She screamed piteously. "No!" she wailed. "Not there!" Then she screamed, again and again, the voice soon becoming hoarse as it continued to push out of the young throat, straining in agony.