The Devil's Touch

by William W. Johnstone

  "I hate to be a bother, Mr. Gibson."

  "No bother," he said, trying to keep the impatience from his voice. He took her arm. Felt nice under his hand. "Come on. The car is unlocked." Typical small town.

  They pulled away into the downpour. No one saw her leave with the man.

  "I'm sorry about Miss Mayberry," Judy said. "I just heard about it this afternoon. Have you any word on what might have happened to her?"

  Will had to fight to keep from laughing at the absurdity of her question. The near hysteria of the question and its truthful answer struck him hard. He controlled his black mirth before opening his mouth.

  "No word, Judy." Never will be any further word from her mouth. Hairy bitch just squats and grunts, now.

  "She'll turn up," Judy replied, with the eternal optimism of the young. "I bet she's all right."

  He turned on the road leading out of town and Judy glanced sharply at him.

  "This isn't the way to my apartment, Mr. Gibson."

  "I know."

  "Then—" She let the question dangle in the closed air of the car. It was then she noticed Mr. Gibson sure needed a bath. He smelled bad.

  Will looked at her and smiled. In the dim light from the dash, she saw his teeth. His blood red swollen tongue. She noticed his very pale lips.

  She felt panic rise up strong within her as he reached for her arm. She tried to pull away, but his grip was as powerful as a man three times his size.

  "Please, Mr. Gibson!"

  "We're going to have some fun," he told her. "Just the two of us."

  "I want to go home!"

  He clamped down with his new strength, bruising her flesh. She screamed in pain.

  "Please take me home!"

  "No more talk of home, girl. You just sit quietly and don't start any trouble. I'm not going to hurt you." Not much, that is, he thought.

  She opened her mouth to protest and he slapped her, bloodying her lips. The sight of her blood filled him with the strange new hunger. Glancing in the mirror, he saw the road was clear behind him. He pulled over and turned down a seldom used country road, then turned off that onto an old logging road, now grown over with brush.

  Judy began crying and begging.

  Will cut the engine and turned off the lights. He pulled the frightened crying girl to him. To her disgust and horror, he began licking the blood from her lips while his free hand roamed her body. His breath was foul-smelling, sickening her almost as much as his tongue licking at her lips and face.

  She began screaming and fighting him as he ripped the clothes from her. The rain grew heavy, drumming on the roof of the car parked in the woods. Her screaming could not be heard more than twenty yards away.

  She fought him harder, but it was a useless gesture, for his strength came from the supernatural. He hit her with his fist and banged her head against the door, stunning her. When she came to her senses, rising out of a red painful mist, she was naked and Will was positioned between her legs. She could feel his throbbing hardness pushing at her.

  She screamed as he took her, penetrating her with one hard shove.

  She could not understand why he was biting her on the neck.

  Jon and Patsy stood away from the circle of men and women in the huge room. After recovering from their initial fright at seeing black-robed men and women and a dark-haired woman, lying naked on a black-draped altar, the strange sights and sounds and smells began to intrigue the young couple. Norman Giddon had apologized for thrusting them too quickly into the scheme of things that evening. Said he could understand their fright. He had escorted them into a smaller room and given them refreshments. The drinks were very cold and very sweet. One seemed to call for another, and then another of the cold sweet beverage. Soon fear of the unknown had vanished as the drugged drinks began soaring through the systems of Jon and Patsy.

  Norman Giddon stroked the arm of Patsy and said, "My, you certainly did enjoy your initiation into sex this afternoon, didn't you, my dear?"

  She looked at the middle-aged man. The drinks had loosened her tongue as well as her inhibitions. "Yeah, once he got it in it felt good."

  "I suppose it was a bit on the rough side, dear, but you have laid in your bed many nights and—how do I say this?" He giggled. "Let your fingers do the walking, so to speak. Correct, my child?"

  She did not blush. Those days were past and would not return. Not only for Patsy, but for the majority of the residents of Logandale. "How do you know these things, Mr. Giddon?"

  "That is something that will be explained in time, my dear. For now, just be content that you are one of us."

  Good attempted to override its counterpart. "I am a Christian, Mr. Giddon."

  "No, you are not, dear." He met her gaze. "You have mouthed the words since childhood, but your inner thoughts have betrayed your true feelings many times. You see, dear, my, or I should say, our God," he waved his hand toward the gathering of the coven, "finds none of what you have thought offensive. Our Master encourages the hedonistic life rather than discouraging it. While you did not realize it, for the past several months, you have been ever so slowly but surely edging toward us, and away from the God you profess to worship."

  Patsy drank another cup of the sweet drink and thought about his remarks. She realized he was telling the truth, although he was twisting the words all out of context. "Perhaps you're right," she said. She looked at the altar. "Is that woman dead, or what?"

  Norman smiled. "She is very much alive. And she is there of her own volition."

  "Why?"

  "She is a part (of the proceeding this evening. You shall see."

  Patsy nodded her head in agreement. "All right. It won't hurt to stay here for a little while, I guess. Just to see what's going on. I can always leave whenever I choose."

  The black-robed man smiled again. The battle was won, and he knew it.

  "Will you tell me the truth if I ask you something, Mr. Giddon?"

  "Call me Norman. Certainly, my dear. We have nothing to hide."

  "You worship Satan?"

  "Yes, we do, dear."

  "And you really believe in what you're doing? I mean, this is not just a game to you people?"

  "My dear, it is not a game to us. I can be quite adamant on that."

  "And if I stay for a time, find I don't like it here—I can leave? Your people won't try to stop me?"

  "You may leave anytime you wish, darling."

  "All right," she said. She drank the rest of her cup of sweet juice. She looked at the cup. It had been refilled—somehow. "I'll stay for a little while. Then I really must be getting back home."

  "Of course, you do. Well, you just wander about a bit; get acquainted. As you can see, there are many more like you and Jon here this evening. Many of your own age group. Socialize—just think of this as a club meeting." He licked his lips at the sight of her young breasts, pushing against the fabric of the blouse. Soon, dear, he thought. Very soon.

  At Balon's house, Janet had put Little Sam to bed an hour before and had busied herself preparing a potion and a lust perfume. The potion would be given to Nydia; Janet would wear the perfume. The potion would not kill Nydia—under the rules of the game she could not be killed—but it would knock her out for a time. Long enough for Janet to carry through her plan. The potion would kill a pure mortal, but Nydia was half witch—even if she did reject that side of her—and the dark side of her would throw off the deadly effects.

  For her heady perfume, Janet mixed carefully measured portions of lavender, aloeswood, jasmine. She added patchouli oil and allowed that to rest for a few moments. Then she added musk, civet, ambergris, and clove.

  She found Sam's hairbrush and carefully removed a few of his hairs. She cut them into tiny pieces and mixed them into the perfume, along with a strand of her own hair.

  She added three drops of her own blood.

  She recited the Devil's chant as she waited for the perfume to ferment.

  I come from the place of my Master,r />
  The Prince Of Darkness.

  He lives in the northernmost corner

  That is void of light.

  I am but a traveler in his Service.

  I am his child of Darkness, and

  I seek his wisdom and cunning to

  Aid me in my endeavor.

  For it is all in his behalf.

  Oh, Prince of Darkness,

  Help me.

  The house began to stink of sulphur; the rain hammered on the roof, as if suddenly alive, a thousand demons screaming and flailing the air with fists of watery silver.

  Janet cupped her breasts with her hands and gently squeezed, imagining Sam's hands on her body. She shivered in sexual anticipation as the wind and rain built in fury, pounding the home.

  "Are you here?" Janet whispered.

  The returning whisper came to her in a breath of stinking air.

  Janet's smile was of the darkest evil. "Prince of the lower firmament, giver of light to the worlds beyond, I hear you and I will obey."

  The perfume began to boil and steam in its glass container. Janet stood up and quickly stripped naked. She dipped her hand into the boiling mixture and it did not burn her.

  She rubbed the mixture on her body, lingering long at her breasts and pubic area.

  The wind pushed a tentacle of darkness into the house. The mist wound around Janet's ankle and traveled upward, to gather at her lower belly. Its touch was almost a caress.

  The wind spoke to the young woman.

  "I will do my best," she replied.

  The mist snaked its way out of the house. The rain and wind abated in their furious assault. The tiny demons that seemed to possess each raindrop slipped back into the nether worlds.

  Janet dressed in clean clothes, then poured the knockout portion into the glass of tomato juice she had prepared for Nydia. She knew Nydia liked a glass of juice each night before retiring.

  On her way back to the den, she passed Little Sam's room, illuminated by a tiny night-light. The girl hissed her anger and fear at what was taking place.

  Two halos of light had encircled the bed upon which the small child slept peacefully. The halos met in the center of the bed. One of the halos was pure white, clean-looking and brilliant. The other halo was dark and ominous appearing, with ragged edges and a filthy appearance. The halos seemed to be battling each other for control.

  And the halo that was purest appeared to be just barely hanging on.

  Janet tried to enter the room. A force prevented her from doing so, blocking her entrance with an invisible field.

  "Leave!" she was instructed. "There is nothing you can do to prevent victory or defeat."

  Janet backed away from the door and continued on to the den.

  The child slept on, unaware that its future was being decided.

  Judy Parish huddled on the front seat of the car. She was completely naked but not cold. She had been raped, but was feeling no anger toward her attacker. She had been beaten, but experienced no feelings of revenge for Will Gibson. She could not understand any of these emotions. Or lack of them.

  The rain was now a quiet drizzle.

  Judy looked over at Will. The man lay against the door on the driver's side. His breathing had slowed and his color had returned. He was naked from the waist down. He opened his eyes and looked at the teenager.

  "How do you feel, Judy?"

  "Strange."

  "Yes, I know. I only became one of them a few hours ago."

  "One of them. What am I?" She sat up on the seat. She made no attempt to cover her nakedness.

  "I—am not certain," Will answered truthfully. "But I know that we are not—we have left some part of us behind and have entered into a new—dimension, I guess we could call it. Somehow I know it will all be explained to us a week from Monday. On October the thirty-first."

  "Why then?" She reached over and began stroking his soft penis.

  "I don't know."

  She moved across the seat and bent her head. She opened her mouth and took him.

  Will groaned and wound his fingers into her golden hair, and pushed his growing penis further into her mouth.

  Just before leaving the Draper house, Sam said, "Halloween. October the thirty-first. That is when their time will run out. At midnight." He glanced at Nydia for confirmation; to see if she had received the same silent message. She nodded her head.

  "But remember, Sam—all of you—Satan can and will change the rules in the middle of the game," Nydia cautioned.

  "Game! Rules!" Monty said. "I keep hoping this is all a bad dream. That in the morning it will all be only a memory."

  "I still have memories from the siege at Falcon House," Sam said. "Believe me, Monty, it isn't a dream; it's a nightmare."

  "I still have doubts," Viv said. "I simply refuse to believe any of this is actually taking place. It's a joke of some sort, that's all."

  "I believe it," Joe said grimly. "I don't want to, but I do. Well, I'm goin' home. Check on Nellie. I'm worried about her. See you tomorrow, Chief. Night, Viv, Father Le Moyne." He nodded his head at Sam and Nydia. Young couple spooked the hell out of him. Woman looked like a damned gypsy, and everybody knows them people are real funny. Can tell your fortune and all that stuff. Joe resisted an urge to back off the porch.

  Sam glanced at his watch. Eleven o'clock. "We are reasonably safe on a Sunday," he said. "Covens don't like to tempt the Almighty too much. But not all of them fear Sunday. And if the Devil himself is here, Sunday won't make a bit of difference to him."

  "That's nice to know," Monty said with a sigh.

  "Bull!" Viv said.

  NINE

  Patsy had been amazed to see so many of her friends and fellow students at the Giddon mansion. It appeared that at least a full seventy-five percent of her class was in attendance. None of them appeared to be overly surprised to see her.

  She walked up to a group of young people gathered near the black-draped altar. They were staring at the naked woman on the altar. She seemed to be in some sort of trance. Alma Nelson, a girl in Patsy's class, smiled at her.

  "I was wondering when those goody-shoes of yours would begin to get dirty, Patsy."

  "I'm only here to see what's going on," Patsy said with a primness that didn't quite come off. "I'll probably leave in a few minutes."

  Claude Sullivan laughed at her. "No, you won't." Claude was sixteen, in Patsy's class. "You're not about to leave."

  "I can if I want to," Patsy said defensively.

  "Yeah, maybe," May Kendall looked at her and smiled. "But I don't think you really want to leave. 'Sides, look across the room, Patsy. Over there by that big picture of a man and woman screwing."

  Patsy looked, squinting her eyes to peer through the gloom. She should have been surprised. Should have, but was not. For the past several hours, beginning with her struggles by the river with Jon, and ultimately her surrender to her lusts, Patsy had known she was only fooling herself; had been kidding herself about her feelings toward her faith. She had sensed something evil in this town some months back; had known it was real the times she lay in her bed and masturbated, allowing erotic scenes to play through her young fertile mind.

  The girl sighed and let the Dark One have his way with her. She accepted the Prince of Evil. She drained her cup of juice and stared at the man and woman who stood quietly, looking at her, smiling across the room. The man unzipped his pants and removed his penis, holding it in his hand and smiling at the teenager.

  It was Patsy's mother and father.

  The old man opened his eyes, trying to make out the shapes standing by his bed. He could hear the sounds of his wife's breathing beside him. The man hoped she would not wake up and have to see what faced them out of the night. Was he awake? Marie Fowler, Dan Golden, and Jerry Jackson stood at the foot of the bed. Marie was still wearing her blood-stained sheet, circles of dried blood denoting where her breasts had been. The paramedics were dressed in hospital garb. The three were grinning at him, their grins
a terrible sight in the darkness of the bedroom.

  "You are old," Marie spoke to the man. "You have lived your time and more." Her words were hollow sounding, as if coming from far away. "But we are prepared to give you eternal life."

  "I'm dreamin'," the retired farmer said.

  "You are not dreaming," Dan said.

  "I knew I shouldn't 'ave watched 'at 'oddamn movie 'ast night," the old man said. His teeth were in a glass by the bed, the words coming out slurred. "I 'new 'at sum-bitch would gimmie nightmares."

  "He is a fool," Jerry said.

  "Then we shall send them both to the pits," Marie said.

  She stepped around the old four-poster bed and put a hand on the old man's chest. He tried to rise but found he could not. It was then, while he experienced the supernatural strength of the mangled woman and the coldness of her hand, that he knew it was not a dream. This was real.

  He opened his toothless mouth to scream.

  The bloodied woman covered his lips with hers. Her breath was foul, stinking of death. She gnawed at his mouth, sucking the blood that began to flow. Then he felt lances of pain in his mouth. The woman was eating his tongue. His mouth filled with blood. Beside him, his wife of fifty years thrashed on the bed as the paramedics sucked at her neck, pulled life from her.

  Marie tore open the man's neck, lapping at the blood that erupted in fountains from the wounds. The old woman had ceased her strugglings. Only the twitching of her hands signaled that within her a spark of life remained. Soon that was gone.

  The trio dragged the old man and his wife from the blood-soaked sheets, dragging them out the back door. In the darkness low growls greeted them.

  The bodies were dumped on the ground. The two men and the woman lurched and faded into the night. The Beasts lumbered forward, red-rimmed eyes hot in the night.

  They feasted.

  Janet Sakall heard the car doors slam. Lying on the couch in the den, she smiled. Janet had no fear of Sunday. Very few in this coven did.

  Janet heard the storm door open. She hid her smile. All was ready in her dark world.

  For Sam Balon, a young man whose faith had been tested to the limits and had stood firm against the evil; a young man who had spoken with and fought alongside the mightiest of God's warriors ... his faith was again to be tested. As was his wife, Nydia. The town of Logandale was set to erupt like pus from a large boil, spewing its corruption over all who came near.