And he knew she was telling him she was a virgin. "I … don't know."
The bed seemed the most logical place to answer any number of questions, and they were soon there, without either of them realizing they had traversed the short distance.
His lips found the hardness of nipple and his tongue brought them to jutting nubs of excitement, while his hand traveled over the silkiness of belly to touch the edge of pubic hair and beyond: touching, lingering, fondling the wet lips and extended clitoris, finally moving to caress and part the folds of her, entering the soul of womanhood while she breathed words into his mouth as they clung to each other, joined at the lips.
She found his maleness, hard and eager, and with a knowledge that is inbred, began stroking him, finding to her astonishment and delight, the muscle of love thickening and hardening even more under her soft hand.
She clutched almost frantically at him, whispering, "Now, Sam! Now!"
He shifted on the bed and was between her legs, positioning himself. He gently placed the source of his manhood against the outer fold of woman and gently pushed, penetrating only a bit. She sighed under him, arching her hips upward, willingly asking for and receiving more of what she had desired since the moment of introduction only a few hours before.
Sam slowly and with a tiny bit of pain pushed the length of him into the hot wetness of woman, then slowly withdrew. And from that moment on, it was a battle with no losers; a war of silk and fire and passion; an ageless confrontation between man and woman … but it was more than that. It was a time of pain and pleasure for the both of them as they dueled on the bed, turning the sheets into a satiny battleground, a mixture of scents, a tangle of flesh. It seemed to them to stop time, to halt the forward movement of that which is unstoppable except for that brief time between the cessation of the heart and the soul exiting the cooling flesh.
Nydia began low whimpering sounds, shedding a few hot tears, not from pain or guilt, although one of those would come later, but from the knowledge, the signals her body was sending to her brain, that this deliciousness, this first time that would never again be the same, was about to end. Several small orgasms had shaken her, wavering almost sinfully through her, but as that one huge climax began its grip on her, she fought to hold on. But it was not to be. She grabbed almost too tightly at Sam's shoulders, pulling his mouth to hers as a feeling unlike anything she had ever before experienced ripped through her like the bow of an ice cutter charging through thick ice.
Sam exploded within her, his juices mingling with hers, a volcanic eruption of fluid that spread its warmth around the silken walls of the ultimate entrapment of male and female.
Nydia wrapped her legs around his and pulled him to her until it seemed there was only one person on the bed: a huge double-headed, many limbed creature. She shivered slightly as he softened within her, and she sighed as he withdrew from this battle. Not retreating, merely recouping resources. She kissed him, and he returned the touching of lips with a gentleness that was almost sad.
And they slept. Together. And the two were not alone.
Sam awakened once at the sound of a gentle knocking on the door. He fumbled for his clothes and padded barefoot to the door. The hall was empty, but two trays of food were beside the door. He took the trays in and placed them on the dresser. He wasn't hungry, and Nydia was deep in sleep. He crawled back into bed, and she nestled her warmth against him.
The food was forgotten.
"I have been blocked," Falcon said to Roma. "I cannot tell what is happening with Balon's son and Nydia. Is He interfering?"
"Indirectly, I believe. Through Balon, I am sure. My daughter and Sam now have powers even they do not realize they possess. And I do not understand that. I have attempted to speak with the Master, but I have been unable to do so. That distresses me."
"Roma?" Falcon lingered over the word, drawing it out as his mind raced. "Perhaps … yes! I sense the battleground has been marked; the Master of Light and the Prince of Darkness have finally agreed on something."
"They haven't agreed on anything for thousands of years. Except Their mutual dislike of each other." She was silent as the implication of his words struck home. "You mean … you believe we are alone in this? That neither Master will interfere any further?"
"For now, yes, I do. For how long … ?" He shrugged eloquently, then put a finger to Roma's lips, a gesture of caution. "But I believe this, darling: should we fail here, we are through on earth."
She thought about that for a moment, her beauty marred by the ugliness of her deliberations. She laughed nastily. "Things seem to be repeating themselves. I'm beginning to believe our Master's sense of humor is equalled only by his lack of trustworthiness and loyalty."
"I hope you know what you are saying, for I surely don't."
"My sins—I hate that word!—have come home to roost." She smiled. "Isn't that a quaint expression? A colloquialism, really. I picked it up in Alabama, right after the American Civil War. Excuse me, the War Between the States. I plotted against Black Wilder more than twenty years ago. Someone in this house is plotting against me."
"Not I!" Falcon drew himself to his full height, indignant that she would even think him guilty of such treason.
She laughed darkly. "No," she said patting his arm, "not you, Falcon. Even for a warlock you have an inordinate sense of honor and loyalty. And we have known and liked each other for too many centuries."
"Then … that leaves only …" He refused to speak the name.
But Roma had no such reluctance. "Yes. My son. Black. He is … strange, even for us. And he is also young, ambitious, and, I have to admit it: he possesses my genes and none of his father's."
"But surely the young man realizes his power is not yet equal to yours; will not be until he leaves this life and assumes his true role in the ways of the arts." Falcon shook his head. "But … you are right. Black is … odd, even for us."
Her gaze silenced him. "I don't wish to discuss my son's pederastic tendencies. It is not forbidden by our Master." She sighed and waved her hand. "But you are correct, of course. He does go too far at times. But I have had many offspring—some good, some bad." A thought sprang into her mind; a thought she did not share with Falcon.
"If we are alone here," Falcon mused. "I wonder if the same applies in Whitfield?"
"Probably. I feel Balon is there, looking after his precious Jane Ann. I never could understand what he saw in her. No tits."
SIX
"Explain a golem to me, Sam," Jane Ann said.
They were in her home, after having spent hours with Miles and Doris, Wade and Anita. Tony and some of his friends from the Coven had been to the house, and had, in the vernacular of the young, trashed it, writing filthy sentences on the walls, stating plainly what they were going to do with Jane Ann.
But Balon's Bible had not been touched. It sat on the small table like a sentry on duty.
Jane Ann had cleaned up the house and painted over the nasty words and obscene drawings.
"There is no such thing as a golem," Balon thrust his reply.
"But that … creature standing in the corner in Miles's living room!"
"Yes."
"Then it is real?"
"All things are real. Mythology is real. Dreams are real. Evil is real."
"Sam … you're being vague."
"In a sense. But really, I am telling you all that I can."
"All right," she said after a time. "I think I see. If we believe in it, it is real. But if someone does not, it doesn't exist." She waved her hand toward the outside.
"But … will they believe in it?"
"Oh, yes. Be assured of that."
"God must have a sense of humor."