"There you go again, being flip. I can't seem to get through to you—any of you—the horror that is beginning … for all of you."
"Don't you think we know, Sam? We lived through it once."
"But none of you will live through this. None of you. And your death, Jane Ann, is not going to be pleasant."
"I realize that, Sam. Last night I prayed for help."
"I heard you."
"Did He?"
"I am sure He did."
"You don't know!"
Silence.
"All right. Knowing Jean Zagone, I'm sure whatever is in store for me will be of a sexual nature."
The mist projected no reply.
"Rape, I'm sure."
Silence.
"Am I to be served up for the Black Mass?"
The mist gave no clue. Balon's unblinking eyes could not be read.
And then she knew what was in store for her; the culmination of the awfulness preceding the final hours of hideousness. She put her hands over her face and wept.
Balon could do nothing except silently watch, and invisibly weep with her.
A gentle rain began to fall over Whitfield.
Sam jacked a round into the automatic, eased the hammer down, and shoved it behind his belt. He glanced at Nydia. "Let's go see this hole in the ground. See the Beasts."
She grabbed his arm. "Why did you say Beasts?"
"Because I know, now, that's what they are. I don't know how I know. But they are the Devil's Beasts. My dad fought them—or some like them—in Fork. And now I know for certain I have been tapped—chosen, if you will—to pick up where Dad left off. Just another part of the country, that's all."
"And Roma, Falcon, Black … all those at the house?" she asked, almost running to keep pace with his long stride.
"I have to kill them," Sam said.
"Or try," she was forced to add.
"Yes."
"You won't run?"
"No."
Then they were at the hole in the earth, the ungodly fumes pouring from the blackness hundreds of feet deep almost making them physically ill.
"Bastards," Sam said, his voice low and powerful. "I know you're in there."
A growl ripped from the darkness and the stench to touch them.
Sam tossed his jacket to the ground, opening his shirt, exposing the angry red cross burned into his skin. The growling intensified, becoming louder as others joined in, swelling the howling and snarling to a fever pitch.
Sam pulled the .45 from his belt. "Why don't you come out?" he challenged them. "Let the light touch you?"
But nothing appeared at the mouth of the stinking lair of the Beasts. Only more howling and snarling sprang from the filthy cave.
Sam ignored the tugging at his sleeve. Nydia was so frightened she was trembling.
"Come up," Sam said. "Let me see you. Show me your evil red eyes." How did I know their eyes were red?
And one Beast did just that. A young Beast who lacked the caution of age leaped forward, just a few feet from the cave opening. It roared at the tall young man, its breath stinking. Sam shot it between the eyes, then stood smiling as the dead creature tumbled backward, falling with a boneless thud onto the first level of the many-tiered burrow. It would not be wasted: its relatives would feast on the cooling flesh and still-warm blood, sucking the marrow from the bones.
"One less," Sam said, then spat contemptuously on the ground, unaware his father had done and said the same thing years before, 1,500 miles to the west.
This time Sam allowed Nydia to pull him away from the rancid hole, leading him toward the house.
After the young couple had gone, a huge old Beast stuck his head out of the den. He had been on this earth for many years, hundreds of years, and had lived through purge after purge from both humans and the elements. He was old and he was wise, as Beasts go. He shook his great scarred head and snarled deep in his chest. He had never known a human without fear of his kind.
Until now.
And that primal sense of warning struck a resonant cord within his tiny brain. The Beast did not know he was evil; his brain could not distinguish between good and evil. He served his god because … well, it was the thing to do. He did not have the intelligence to question right or wrong. But he did understand courage … and something else: fear. And what he now felt was fear, and he did not understand why.
Growling, the Beast slipped back into the earth. He must warn the others of this human; tell them to stay away. For this human was not like the other humans. This human had been touched by the Other Side. And the Beast feared the Other Side.
Black and Susan spun around as the echo of the shot drifted through the timber.
"That was close," Susan said.
But Black would only smile.
In Falcon House, Roma studied Falcon as the man stood speaking with Lana. He could be so charming. She wondered how long it would take him to get the panties off the little blond? Not long, if she knew Falcon, and she did. She would like to be there when he spread her legs and filled her with that enormous erection. Roma liked to hear screaming.
A thin line of perspiration broke from the skin on her upper lip at just the thought of sex. Damn that young man! She couldn't get him out of her mind. Roma knew, with a mother's sixth sense, that Nydia had slept with Balon's bastard … which was fine … no harm in that. But what Roma did not want was some puky little holy child to spring from the mating. That would be the height of humiliation.
A door slammed, and Roma looked around as Black and Susan strolled in. The girl looked rumpled. So her son had made it with the cunt. That was good. Better than his usual tastes: boys. Although the Master did not object to his subjects engaging in sex with the same gender. Roma noticed Susan now wore the medallion of the Master outside her shirt. Very good, Black. Falcon will want to sample her wares as well. How nice of you to break in a new pussy for him. She watched Susan touch her son's arm, smile up at him, then walk toward the steps to her quarters. Black came to his mother's side.
"All went well, I see."
"Very well. Mother. But we did hear a shot a few moments ago."
"Oh?"
"Yes. Seemed to come from around the circle."
"Of course, Sam would be armed. He is his father's son. Any ideas as to what prompted the gunfire?"
"He probably fired at a Beast."
'They would not have attacked with Nydia present." A frown creased her brow. "Unless …" she let the unimaginable trail off.
"Unless … what, Mother?"
"She became a Christian," Roma said sourly.
"If she did that, then that changes things considerably."
"Yes. But Sam Balon used to do the same thing back in Whitfield. Taunt the Beasts. No fear in either father or son." But still … could her daughter have been converted so quickly. It was possible. If so, Roma smiled, that opened up yet another can of wriggling worms, with more alternatives than ever.
Black looked at his mother. But unlike his mother, the young man was very familiar with fear. But he dared not tell her of that forbidden emotion, as forbidden as true love. She would be furious. Black had learned as a child how to keep his thoughts blocked from her.
But Roma picked up disturbing vibes from her son. "What's wrong, Black?"
Dark eyes met, held, with Black breaking off his gaze under her hard look. He shook his head. "Nothing, Mother." He hoped he sounded convincing enough.
He didn't. But Roma said nothing about it. "Black, we have but one mission here on earth, and nothing must stand in its way. Nothing. Do you understand that?"
"Yes, Mother."
Scheming little bastard, Roma thought. Now you've added lying. "Our Master wants more converts, more churches. It is a very daring move they are taking in Whitfield, so soon after failure. If all succeeds, it will mean an entire town—everyone—worshiping the Prince of Darkness. That hasn't happened here on earth in more years than even I can recall. Nothing must stand in our way.
"Yes, Mother. But why simultaneously? Why here and in Whitfield concurrently?"