The Devil's Touch Read online

Noah adjusted his beret. "Oh—stuff it, you prissy prig."

  "Gentlemen," Monty said wearily. "We don't need to fight among ourselves. We—"

  Mille began screaming, pointing to the hallway. A foul odor filled the den.

  Something about Fox Estate reminded Sam of Falcon House. Perhaps it was its hugeness. He didn't know. But something about it …

  Then all thoughts of Falcon House were wiped from his mind. Sam was frozen in time as Nydia entered his mind. His wife was standing nude in a bedroom, a young man facing her. He was naked, his erection jutting out from his lean body. Sam watched Nydia take the erection in her hands and caress it. The young man fondled her breasts. One hand left her breasts and lingered between her legs.

  The scene faded from Sam's mind, leaving wild, hot anger in its place. He clenched his hands into fists and wanted to strike out at something.

  "Not strike to cause physical pain," a voice entered his head. "But there is a way to seek revenge for her unfaithfulness."

  Sam listened as the voice gave him instructions. He smiled his satisfaction.

  "Yes," Sam murmured. "That's what I'll do."

  He was left with no conscious memory of the voice or the instructions.

  Sam turned at Desiree's footsteps behind him. She was carrying a silver service, a pot of coffee on the tray. She smiled at him and said, "Let's sit over by the window. The view is so nice from there."

  A lot better than what I just viewed, Sam thought. He did not question how he was able to bring to his mind's eye the infidelity. Something nagged at him, but he was unable to pinpoint the cause.

  "1 apologize for what happened back there on the side of the road," Desiree said. "Something—something came over me. I don't know how to explain it. I've never experienced anything like it before."

  "You don't have to apologize to me, Desiree. Truly, I enjoyed it."

  "Truly," she said shyly, "so did I."

  They drank their coffee and nibbled on small cookies in silence. They studiously avoided any eye contact until it became obvious to both of them they had best either play the hands they were dealt, or fold.

  "Why are we behaving like this?" Desiree asked. "Something is the matter with me."

  Sam struggled for full use of his senses. She watched the young man's face dot with sweat. She looked at him curiously. Sam gripped the small table's edges with his big hands.

  "Desiree!" he blurted. "Can't you feel this—"

  Sam could not finish the sentence. He could not remember what he was about to say. He knew only that he wanted the woman seated across from him.

  Desiree smiled and put a small soft hand over his big hand. "1 know what I felt back on the road's edge, when you kissed me. I know that 1 have been drawn—somehow, to you from the first day I saw you, at Nelson. And those feelings have grown stronger by the hour. I want you, Sam."

  She rose from her chair and came to him, drawing his head to her breasts.

  Sam gave up. He was weary of fighting something he could not understand; weary of combating his failing memory and forces that were beyond his present level of comprehension. He gratefully placed his head against the softness.

  With her standing, and Sam seated, he let his hands drift from her waist to her buttocks. She sighed longingly as his hands gripped her buttocks. He rose to his feet and pulled her to him, kissing her open lips, feeling her tongue meet and explore his own.

  Sam did not see Jimmy Perkins watching them from the outside, peering through the window. The ageless spawn of the Devil grinned grotesquely. It was all going as planned. The Master would be so pleased.

  Jimmy hoped the young couple would perform the sex act where he would be able to watch them. Jimmy enjoyed watching people fuck. But that was not to be.

  Desiree and Sam left the sitting room and disappeared into the depths of the huge mansion.

  "Shit!" Jimmy said. He was disappointed, but not too much so. For the Master had promised him he could have his choice of any of the young local girls very soon. Jimmy could wait that long.

  In an upstairs bedroom, clothing became tangled on the carpet and male flesh touched female flesh. Breathing became tense and hot and excited. Sam tongued the nipples of Desiree until they ached from passion. He slid his mouth lower, tracing patterns on her bare belly. His tongue explored the soul of the woman as she moaned under his mouth.

  She breathed love words as she gripped his erection, heavy and hot under her fingers. She cried out in pain as he entered her. Blood dotted the sheets as he penetrated the maidenhead.

  Passion overrode pain and she began meeting him lunge for stroke.

  The day promised much for all concerned in Logandale. On both sides of the line separating the firmament from the nether world.

  None were to be disappointed.

  All whirled at the sounds of Mille's screaming. All were shocked into silence and momentarily frozen in place at the sight facing them from the hall.

  It was a man, but a stranger to them all. The man was pale, whiter than any living human being any had ever seen. His clothing reeked of a foulness none were familiar with, and when he opened his mouth, his breath was that of a newly opened grave.

  He shuffled up the hall toward the archway, his mouth open, his tongue a horrible sickly red color, his teeth fanged, his eyes wild with a fury no human could comprehend. No one except Noah Crisp and Father Daniel Le Moyne.

  The priest lunged to his feet, the large cross in his right hand. He rudely shoved Monty and Mille aside and stood in the dimly lit hallway. He held the cross up to Max Oberlin.

  "Spawn of Hell!" he shouted at Max. "See this!" He thrust the cross at the undead.

  Max screamed as if in intense physical pain, the breath from him fouling the close hallway, the stench drifting into the den. He shielded his eyes with his hands, deflecting the silver light from the cross of Christ.

  Father Le Moyne rushed the undead, slamming into him, knocking the man backward. Max grabbed at the wall to keep from falling to the floor in the narrow hallway. The priest kicked at the living dead, hitting him on the leg. Max howled, not in pain but in confusion. Max stumbled from the hall and staggered into the kitchen, knocking chairs from the breakfast table in all directions. He lurched onto the back porch and tore the porch door from its hinges in his haste to escape the priest's rage and the hideous sight of that awful cross.

  Father Le Moyne pursued him, shouting at the undead, raining down God's words on the creature. Monty grabbed the priest by the seat of the pants before he could get off the porch and hauled him back into the kitchen.

  "Stay inside!" Monty yelled at the man.

  Father Le Moyne calmed himself and nodded his head in agreement. "Yes. Yes, you're quite right, Chief. There is no telling what might be lurking outside in wait." He seemed confused for a moment. "But it's daylight; the sun is shining. I never knew those—things roamed about under God's sunlight."

  Before Monty could reply, Richard Hasseling charged into the kitchen. "Do you have any idea what you're saying, Daniel? Have you any idea what you're implying?" He was screaming the questions. His face was pale and his hands were trembling. "That poor man was ill. Perhaps mentally deranged. But he wasn't a—a vampire! Good Lord, man—have you taken leave of your senses? Get a grip on yourself, Daniel. You people are carrying this joke just a bit too far!"

  Catholic had taken just about all of Baptist he could safely tolerate. Le Moyne looked at Hasseling and said disgustedly, "Oh—stick it in your ear, Richard!"

  SIX

  Max ran from the house in fright and confusion. He did not care where he ran, just get away. The sight of the Cross had filled him with dread. And the bright sun was hurting his eyes. He did not know what he was, where he was, and what had caused this change in him. He knew only that he must have blood to survive. The blood of an animal would not do. He must have fresh human blood. And have it quickly. He had awakened in the rear of an emergency unit, disoriented and weak. He could not remember his name, what he
did for a living, or even where he lived. All he knew for sure was that he was caught between two worlds. And this was all there would ever be for him. How he knew that was now beyond his now rather limited sphere of comprehension; but he knew.

  He ran down the small alley and ducked into the rear of a house. He slipped onto the back porch and looked inside. A man and a woman were in the kitchen, having a snack of pie and coffee.

  "Gimmie another piece of this pie, Ann," the man said. "Stuffs almost good as pussy."

  Ann laughed, cut him another piece of pie, and left the kitchen.

  Ann was on the pudgy side, but still attractive. The man was grossly overweight. Heart attack candidate, Max thought, then wondered why he would think that.

  The man's back was to Max. Max looked around and spotted a small axe leaning against the wall. He picked it up. He slipped into the kitchen, raised the hatchet over his head, and sank the bit into the man's head. The man died without making a sound. His face dropped with a plop into his second helping of pie. Apple. His brains splattered all over the table. Max knelt down and lapped at the blood from the man's shattered head. He spit out a bit of pie—that was distasteful to him—and continued lapping at the flow of blood.

  He heard the woman returning and stepped quickly behind a door. Ann stepped into the kitchen, viewed the scene before her, wet her pants, then fainted without making a sound.

  When she came to her senses, having been out for no more than a couple of minutes, she was naked on the kitchen floor, Max hunching between her wide spread legs, thrusting himself into her. Her neck was sore, and she thought she must have hurt it when she fell. She tried to fight the man raping her, but found his strength too much. She tried to scratch him, and that got her a brutal fist to the jaw. She dropped into darkness, not understanding why the man was saying, "It will be all right in a few minutes. You'll see. Then you will understand."

  She fell into unconsciousness at the sound of him sucking at her neck.

  When she returned to consciousness, she was very weak, scarcely able to move. Her arms and legs were cold, as if they had been drained of blood. She looked at the half naked man standing over her. She tried to call to him, to ask him for help. But the words would not form on her tongue; her tongue felt swollen and thick.

  Max laughed at her, a wild, insane light in his eyes. He picked up the small axe. She watched in horror as he laughed and brought the axe down on her chest. She could feel very little pain as he hacked at her. She closed her eyes.

  Max hacked at the naked woman, chopping off one arm at the elbow and then whacking off one foot at the ankle. He mangled her chest and face. Max threw down the axe and pulled on his trousers. He found a pair of sunglasses and put them on. He felt much better as he left the house. He kept to the shadows, doing his best to stay out of direct sunlight.

  After a few minutes, Ann stirred on the kitchen floor and crawled to her hands and knees. Two knees, one hand.

  There was blood splattered all over the kitchen. But it was her husband's blood, not hers.

  She pulled herself up and caught the edge of the stove for support and heaved herself up, holding onto the stove for balance. Half her face was missing, but most of her teeth were still in her face. Four of her teeth had changed in shape and size. She lurched around the kitchen, finding a hammer and some clothesline cord. She tied the hammer handle around her severed ankle. Ann lurched and banged and clumped about the house, knocking over tables and lamps. She thudded into a bedroom, found her housecoat, and covered her mangled nakedness. She looked out into the street and found the bright sunlight hurt her eyes.

  She was weak and very thirsty, but decided she had best wait until night before leaving the house. She thudded and banged her way back to the kitchen and stood for a moment, looking at her dead husband. She felt no emotions. She craved blood. But she did not want to lap at his cold blood. She grinned hideously.

  She wanted hot living blood.

  Nydia looked at the exhausted sleeping boy sprawled naked on the bed. She silently slipped from his side. She dressed quietly and left the house. She knew she had done something very wrong, but despite the feeling, she could not completely shake off the lingering effects of the Dark One's grip.

  Then she felt guilt wash over her in waves. She mentally fought the forces of evil, winning a small battle. Then the pleasures she had experienced with Jon overrode the small victory. She pulled away from the curb, aware of the many faces looking at her. A face seemed to fill each window of every house along the block. The eyes were of the darkest evil. Nydia shuddered as she felt the corruption touching her.

  She won another battle as she fought off the staring eyes.

  She wondered why she had come to Jon's house. It wasn't his skill as a lover. Other than a monster cock the boy knew nothing of lovemaking.

  Something important was taking place in Logandale; something important was happening. But she couldn't recall what it was. She had to struggle to remember it was Sunday. And where was Little Sam. She couldn't remember. Oh, yes—at Janet's. She would go there and get him.

  She shook her head. What was the matter with her?

  Sam gently slipped from the bed. Desiree lay sprawled in sexually induced sleep.

  Sam wanted to say something to her but didn't know what to say. What could he say? Thanks for a fantastic fuck?

  A virgin. Desiree had been a virgin. Now that passion was sated that fact could astonish him. She had been a virgin.

  He stood over her, looking at her nakedness. A beautiful woman. No doubt about that. And her resemblance to Xaviere was uncanny. Sam shook his head and dressed. He pulled a sheet over the sleeping woman and left the room, quietly closing the door. He felt a bit uneasy about leaving her alone in the great house … but something nagged at him; told him to get away. He had something to do. But what? He couldn't remember. He slipped quietly down the curving stairway, out the front door, and into the sunlight.

  There, guilt and shame struck his conscience with a hammer-blow.

  Twice I have been unfaithful to my wife. I made love to another woman and this time I did so willingly.

  "But your wife was enjoying the fruits of the young man, Jon Le Moyne," the dark whisper came to him. "She took him in her mouth and loved him in that manner."

  Resolve filled Sam. He banged his fist on the fender of his truck. Full realization came to him, filling him with anger. He whirled around. "I don't care!" he shouted. "Damn you! Now I know what's been happening to me. Now I know what Dad was trying to tell me. How tricky you can be. How you can cloud minds and make wrong seem right. But it won't happen again, you scummy bastard. Now I can fight you. Now I know how. It won't happen again! Do you hear me, bastard?"

  Something struck Sam in the chest, knocking him backward. He slammed against the concrete drive, the wind knocked from him. He struggled to his feet. He was slapped back to the driveway. He could hear laughter but could see no one.

  "You tricked me," Sam pushed the words from his mouth. "Desiree is one of yours."

  "You are all mine!" the hot wind sighed. "Mine to do with as I see fit. To play with. I am going to enjoy this, young man. Fight me if you wish. But soon you will lose. I will see you nailed to a cross; hear you screaming for mercy. I will see your wife used; every orifice filled. And I will make you watch it all."

  "You mother-fucker!" Sam yelled at the voice.

  The laughter once more reached him. "There will be no interference this time, Balon. None. You few are on your own."

  "Son-of-a-bitch!" Sam shouted. He got to his hands and knees and felt something like a giant foot kick him in the seat of his jeans, sending him sprawling.

  The hot wind laughed in Sam's face, the foulness of the wind sickening. "Puny Christian. How dare you curse me!" The wind laughed arrogantly. "My people will use you as they see fit, Balon. Then they will destroy you—after you have begged my mercy and renounced your God. Let's make this a game, Balon. 1 will return your wits; to all of you. All partici
pants. You are free to fight me. So fight me, pukey Christian."

  Sam found he could not move. He was pinned in a helpless squat on the concrete. Hot stinking rain began to fall on him, the liquid foul-smelling. Sam squatted in helpless rage.

  He was being pissed on.

  Nydia's senses returned to her in a hot rush of clarity. She pulled off the road and parked on the curb. Tears ran from her eyes, the silver streams rolling down her cheeks. Now she knew what had happened: She had been tricked. Her encounter with Jon Le Moyne had been arranged by the Dark One. She had been set up and had fallen into the trap like a child reaching for candy.

  And it became clear to her now that Sam's behavior had been influenced by the dark forces in Logandale. And with that knowledge came the realization that Desiree Lemieux was not a child of the Dark One. The young woman had been duped along with the rest of them. But, like Sam, Nydia knew Sam's demon child was near. But who was it?

  "Oh, what a sight you made today," the dark evil whisper reached Nydia. A hot wind sighed around the car. "Squatting naked on the floor and orally loving my young convert." The wind laughed obscenely. "So now you see how easy it is, my turncoat half-daughter. You see how weak and silly your faith is? Of course, you do. You see how simple it is for me? Bah! It is no contest this way. I release you to fight me in any manner you find acceptable. You may now go join your silly friends. But you will remember your time spent with young Le Moyne. You will remember the sensation of him plunging into your depths. You will remember all the emotions he invoked within you, and who knows, they may pull you back to him—very unexpectedly." The wind laughed hotly and smugly as it faded.

  Nydia felt unclean as she pulled out into the road. She longed for a hot bath. Anything to help alleviate this feeling of filth covering her mind and body.

  She drove to Janet's and parked on the street, by the curb. Again, she was conscious of evil eyes watching her. Nydia walked slowly up the walkway. Janet met her on the porch. Something had changed in the girl's eyes. But what was it? Nydia was too tired and emotionally drained to understand. But full comprehension was only seconds away. She held out her arms and Little Sam came to her.