She nodded.
"God's day, honey. We're safe, comparatively speaking, that is. But some warning voice … no, that's not true, not a voice, a sense, I guess, deep inside me, tells me to be on guard, for this is their territory, not ours."
"Or His," Nydia said.
"Yes."
She looked up, sudden fear in her eyes.
"What's wrong?"
"Falcon and Roma coming toward us."
"Hell with them."
"Apt choice of words," she said, smiling.
The witch and warlock stopped at the buffet line to fill their plates, then walked to the table, Falcon smiling, saying, "I know you young people won't object if we join you."
"Not at all." Sam returned the smile. "We were just about to say a morning prayer for thanks." He pointed upward. "To Him."
"How disgusting!" Roma said.
"Go right ahead," Falcon said. "But you will understand if we don't join in?"
Sam bowed his head and Nydia followed suit, not knowing what her young man was going to do. She didn't even know if Sam knew a morning prayer of thanks.
Sam, with his head bowed, hiding his smile, said, "Dee Dee, Ta Ta."
Falcon and Roma looked at each other. "Is that some kind of a joke?" she asked.
"No," Sam said. "When I was just learning to talk, really before I could pronounce words, after Mother or Dad would say the prayer, I'd always say that. Our God is listening, and He knows what I said, and meant."
Roma sat down. "And you people call us weird." She buttered a piece of toast, nibbled at it, then said, "Have either of you given any more thought to what we discussed last evening?"
"The answer is no, Roma," Nydia said, and she was conscious of Sam looking at her through eyes of love and respect.
"Nydia," Falcon said, "have you considered this: how do you know you will be accepted into His flock; His hand of protection? Think about it. You have not been properly baptized; you do not know the Bible and nothing of His teachings. Aren't you taking a chance, my dear?"
"Yes," she surprised him with her reply, "and I've given that a great deal of thought. But our answer is still no. I've been reading Sam's Bible, and it says: 'God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life.' Now ... I don't know, really, how that should be interpreted, but I read it to mean that if a person believes in Jesus and the Father, and tries real hard to do what is right, to be a good person, well … everything's going to be all right. I may be wrong. I hope not."
Sam gently squeezed her fingers in support.
"How touching," Roma said dryly, observing the gesture of love.
"Shut up, darling," Falcon told her, and this time she heard a distinct note of warning in his voice. She closed her mouth. Falcon said, "Is there no way we can reach a compromise?"
"No," Sam said, flatly rejecting the offer.
"He's just like his father," Roma blurted. "Hard-headed as a goat."
"And very proud to be," Sam said, smiling.
Roma nodded her head; the extent to which she agreed with Sam was impossible to tell from the curt gesture.
Falcon's eyes were hard as he looked at Nydia. "My dear, you can make this enjoyable, or very unpleasant … when the time comes. I suggest you think about it."
"I don't know what you mean," she replied.
Falcon's smile was evil. He pointed to his crotch. "You and I, dear."
She shook her head slowly.
"The same applies to you, Sam," Roma said.
"Sorry," the young man told her. "I think I'll pass." He had no way of knowing his mother had spoken those same words to Roma more than twenty years before, referring to Black Wilder's offer.
"A lot of your mother in you, too, darling," Roma said with a nasty grin. "And your mother is going to have a lot in her before all this is over. Do pardon the slight pun, won't you?"
Sam shot visual daggers of hate at the witch.
"Do either of you realize," Falcon said, "how hopelessly outnumbered you are? How puny your powers are compared with ours? And how foolish you are to reject this offer of compromise?"
Sam and Nydia merely looked at him, saying nothing.
"We really are not obligated to abide by any rules," Falcon confided in them. "Believe that. The only reason we are here is to give you young people a chance to come to your senses."
"He is not lying," the heavy voice said as it sprang into Sam's head. "You may accept the offer from the devil's agent and become one of the undead. There will be no more trials and tests should that be your decision. The choice is yours."
"Tested by both God and Satan?" Sam flung the silent question. "How much is to be placed on my shoulders, and when does it end?"
But the mysterious voice was silent.
Both Roma and Falcon were once again aware of the strange power in the room, neither of them understanding it.
"Your decision, young man?" Falcon urged.
"Go to hell!" Sam told him.
Both Roma and Falcon laughed, Falcon saying, "Oh, we've been there, many times. Even at its best, it is a dismal place."
"Then we'll do our best to avoid it." Sam locked eyes with the man.
"Very well," Roma said. "1 would suggest the both of you enjoy your . . . day of rest." Both she and the warlock laughed.
The witch and the warlock vanished before their eyes, leaving behind them a foul odor of sulfur.
Nydia's hand covered Sam's fingers and he gently squeezed it. "It'll be all right," he said.
A different odor covered the departing smell of Roma and Falcon. This one was hideous, stinking of stale blood and rotting flesh, of the grave and beyond.
Nydia looked up, her nose wrinkling at the smell. Her eyes widened, face paling. She began to scream.
Sam started to turn around, to see what Nydia was viewing. Something savage smashed into his head and he fell, tumbling into painful darkness.
"They have all withdrawn from sight," Wade said, putting down the shotgun. He was very tired, and he had left his bifocals at home, having to make do with an old, inadequate pair of glasses he kept in the glove compartment for emergencies.
"They have withdrawn—period," Miles said. He put his shotgun on a table, Doris frowning as the front sight scarred the polished wood. But she said nothing to her husband of oh-so-many years. Good years … all of them. No regrets.
And she was sorry she had called him a klutz so many times over those years. But even with that feeling of love and penitence, she had to smile. Miles was clumsy … always had been. She said prayers even when he tried such a simple task as changing a light bulb. Especially if he had to stand on a stepladder. For if he didn't fall off the ladder, he would always manage to drop one of the bulbs; usually the good one.
But she loved him, loved him with all her heart: he was such a good, decent man. Just like Wade, but in a completely different way. Both of them were honest, decent, and Godfearing, helpful to people in need, no matter what race or religion. She sighed in remembrance.
She turned her attentions back to the men, who were, as usual, arguing.
"… in hell do you know that?" Wade was saying.
"I know. I feel it. Something drastic has happened. You wait, you'll see. Sam will tell you I'm right."
"He is right." Balon's voice jarred them all.
They still could not accustom themselves to Balon's sudden appearances.
Balon said: "They will not be back here. Ever. They will come for Jane Ann on the night before their final night on earth."
"And us?" Miles asked hopefully. One could always keep a bit of optimism that The Man might change His mind.
"We will exit this life together."
Miles muttered something inaudible to human ears.
"I heard that," Balon said.
"So sue me," Miles replied.
"What about him? It?" Doris pointed toward the front steps, at the golem sitting hugely, impassively.
"He requires no aid, no comfort, no food or water—he is all those things. He will sit thusly until he is needed. When he is done with here, he will return to the river."