The Devil's Touch

by William W. Johnstone

  Nydia had not yet noticed what was on the TV. Janet turned the set off and said, "Let me get you some milk."

  "That would be nice, Janet." She looked at Sam. "More trouble, honey?"

  "Maybe." He turned back to the phone, lifting it to his ear. "Sorry, Joe. Had a problem here at home. Would you say that again?"

  "I'm with Mille LaMeade. She called me at my house 'bout an hour or so ago. Maybe an hour and a half. Said Jim Peters had called in sick. I come down and we went over to Jim's house. Big party goin' on. Everybody drunk and raisin' hell, swappin' wives and girlfriends and such stuff as you only read about in books. Jim told me right to my face to kiss his ass. He was through with the P.D. and me and Chief Draper and the rest of the goody-two-shoes motherfuckers in this town. And Carl Medley and Bob Carson was with him. And that right there is all the Logandale P.D."

  "Have you told Monty?"

  "Yeah. But he don't know what to do. Hell, Sam, Monty called the mayor and the mayor told him not to worry none about it; said there wasn't nothin' gonna happen here 'cause nobody was comin' in here to do nothin'. Now ain't that the goddamnedest thing you ever heard a grown man say?"

  "It's strange, all right."

  "Strange! Strange is a woman with three tits and no snatch. That's strange. This here is—hell, I don't know what this is."

  "Where will you be, Joe?"

  "On patrol, I reckon. Just me and Mille left."

  "Is she acting all right?"

  "Oh, yeah. Mille's O.K. She was a tough little cookie when she was growin' up. Done things make a sailor blush. But when she straightened up her act, she done it proper. Devil come up to Mille, she'd bust him on the snoot and spit in his eye."

  Sam grinned. "Sounds like my kind of lady. O.K., Joe. Let me get a few hours sleep and I'll see you first thing in the morning. Probably at the cafe. Then we'll meet with Monty and talk this out."

  "Right. There's some other matters I want to tell ya'll about, but they'll keep 'til first light, since I ain't goin' back home. See you in a few hours."

  Joe hung up.

  Sam did not connect the ain't goin' back home with anything ominious. He thought Joe only meant he would be on patrol all night, nothing more. He went to Nydia's side.

  "Feeling better, honey?"

  "I think so. Yes." She sipped at the milk Janet had so thoughtfully brought her. She looked at Janet. "You go to bed, young lady."

  "Yes, ma'am," Janet said with a smile. She left the den and went into the room she used when she slept over. "Fucking bitch," she said, when the door had closed behind her.

  Janet looked toward the north. "I tried, Master. I truly tried."

  Outside, the wind blew hotly, as if in a forgiving and understanding way. It changed, speaking darkly to the girl. "You succeeded, my pretty. You did well."

  Janet nodded her head and smiled. Sam's seed was in her body.

  Another demon was growing.

  TWO

  Guilt lay heavy on Sam's mind when he awakened before dawn to leave the sleeping side of his wife. He simply could not believe he had done those things with Janet. He was all man, yes, and he would be lying if he said he had never entertained the thought of other women—but that was as far as it had ever gone. And Sam was adult enough to realize and accept that Nydia—just as any woman—had her daydreams and fantasies. But like Sam, that was as far as it had gone.

  He looked in on Janet. Still sleeping, and sleeping peacefully. Sam again shook his head at what he had done. He would have to tell Nydia. But God, he wasn't looking forward to that.

  He fixed a cup of coffee and took it with him, after making certain the house was securely locked. He looked at the orchard where he had shot the Beast. It lay peaceful in the pre-dawn stillness. The stars were beginning to fade and faint light was tinting the eastern horizon as Sam got in his pickup truck and backed out of the drive. He pointed the nose of the truck toward town, toward Clint's Cafe.

  He saw Joe and Mille sitting alone at a table. Upon entering, he thought Joe looked a little strained. Sam attributed that to weariness until he had ordered breakfast and coffee and sat down at the table with the two remaining Logandale police officers, not counting the chief.

  "Take a look over there," Joe said, cutting his eyes.

  Sam looked. A cross hung upside down on the wall behind the counter. It was beginning. And he felt Sunday would be no safer for believers than any other day—not as far as this coven was concerned. "You've told Mille?"

  "Yeah. Figured that was the best thing. She didn't much believe me 'til after we seen what was happenin' out to the Giddon place. Strange doin's out there, Sam."

  The image of his making love to Janet once more filled his mind. He also felt shame wash over him. He took a deep sigh and fought the images away. He dreaded the moment of facing Nydia and telling her. But he knew he must. He came back to the present. "Strange doings? Such as what, Joe?"

  "We parked down the road from the mansion, up on a bluff overlooking the road. Must have been two, maybe three hundred folks, of all ages, come out of that place and drive toward town. Lots of kids, high school and college. Near 'bouts all the professors and staff from out to Nelson College was there. And a lot of parents was there—and so was their kids."

  "There is no such thing as incest in the language of the Devil," Sam explained. "As a matter of fact, it's encouraged. Brings the family closer together, so to speak," he added dryly.

  "My father, my brother, and my youngest sister came out of that house," Mille said. "My little sister is only fourteen. All this is adding up to me now," she said, putting dark eyes on Sam's face. "I've been noticing some—well, odd things happening around town. Like the number of people who have stopped attending church. At first I didn't pay any attention to it; it was such a gradual thing. Then I began picking up on it when it began at my church. We're down to about—oh, maybe a fourth of our members attending any given mass."

  Odd, Sam thought, as the waitress, wearing a uniform that looked as though it hadn't been washed in a month, put his breakfast in front of him. I wonder why Father Le Moyne didn't say anything about that?

  When the waitress departed, taking her stinking body and filthy clothing with her, but leaving a stench behind, Sam said, "Did you try to talk to Father Le Moyne about it?"

  "Yes. He was aware of it, and it concerned him. You see, Sam, this is it for Father Le Moyne. He'll never have another church. He's had some—personal problems."

  "That's interesting," Sam said. "What kind of problems?" He looked down at his breakfast and it turned his stomach. The plate was filthy, had not been washed in God knows how long, and the food was floating in stinking grease. He pushed the plate from him.

  "Sickenin', ain't it?" Joe said.

  "At least that," Sam muttered.

  "No one knows for sure about Father Le Moyne," Mille said. "Some say it was a woman. That he fell in love, had an affair. Some say he was burned out performing an exorcism. I don't know. I do know he's had problems with the bottle."

  Sam recalled the way the priest had knocked back the booze at his quarters.

  Mille said, "I remember my mother telling me—years ago—that Father Le Moyne had butted heads with the Devil one too many times and finally the Devil beat him. I don't know any of the particulars, Sam. I just know that Father Le Moyne's been here for a long, long time, and it's accepted knowledge that he'll never leave."

  The cafe was rapidly filling up, the patrons, to a person, both male and female, giving the trio hard looks, ugly looks. The cafe began to stink of unwashed bodies.

  Laughter came rolling to them from a group of men and women seated at a far corner. The words followed. "Sure would like to have me some of the little French snatch," a man said. "Then ol' Ralph would turn her over and stick it up her ass."

  Hard dirty laughter followed. Joe flushed and started to rise from his chair. Sam put out a hand, stopping the man.

  "Let's get out of here, people. But first I want to confirm a s
uspicion." He caught the counterman's eyes. "This breakfast is terrible!" Sam shouted. "And the plate is filthy. You really expect me to pay for this slop?"

  "No!" the man returned the shout from behind the counter. "It's on the house, you son-of-a-bitch! And you can all get your asses out of my place. Don't come back—none of you. We don't need your kind in here."

  "Your kind," Joe muttered. "That what you was waitin' on, Sam?"

  "That's it," Sam said.

  The trio walked outside, very conscious of all eyes in the place on their backs. They all breathed a bit easier when they were outside in the clean, fresh coolness of morning air. Dawn was breaking, spreading its golden light.

  "Gonna be a gorgeous day," Joe said. He added, "All things taken into consideration, that is."

  * * *

  Janet was very quiet that morning, and Nydia did not understand the silence, for the teenager was usually bubbling over with love of life. So Nydia thought. She asked the girl what was the matter.

  Janet looked at her for a moment, and then burst into tears. Nydia went to her, putting her arms around the girl.

  "Nydia," she said, "I was so afraid last night. 1 didn't know what to do. 1 still don't. Please, Nydia, if I tell you, will you promise not to tell Sam? 1 mean, you have to swear to me you won't tell. Cross your heart and promise you won't tell him I told you."

  Nydia dried the girl's eyes with a napkin. She smiled at her. "I promise, Janet. I won't tell Sam. Whatever it is, I won't tell him."

  Janet nodded her head. "Well, after you went to bed last night, Sam started drinking. The glass is still on the table by his chair. I fixed him—I don't know, several drinks. I don't know how many he fixed himself. A lot. I was watching Saturday Night Live on TV and he changed it to that—that awful channel."

  "Awful channel?"

  "You know, the one—that shows everything. All the naked people doing—it."

  "Sam did that? With you in the room!" Nydia was filled with outrage.

  "Then he asked me if I ever thought about doing things like that. Nydia, I swear to you I'm a good girl. I swear it! Ever since that happened to me—you know, at Falcon House up in Canada, having sex has been the furthest thing from my mind." Janet willed tears to roll from her eyes and they came in silver torrents, spilling down her cheeks.

  Nydia's thoughts toward Sam darkened, clouds of anger and revenge colored her mind. "I believe you, Janet," she said, putting her arms around the girl, holding her.

  "I didn't know what to do when he pulled me in the chair with him, Nydia. It scared mc. Then we lay like that for several minutes, watching those naked people have sex—and other stuff. It was really grossing me out."

  Nydia's eyes were dark pools of smoldering anger. "Go on, Janet. I want to hear it all."

  "I told him that you'd wake up and there would be trouble, and I'd get the blame for it. He said don't worry, 'cause he had put something in your juice to make you sleep, and you could sleep through a hurricane, anyway, and so could Little Sam—he got that from you."

  "Yes, that's true. Sam is fond of saying that. Noise hardly ever disturbs my sleep. And I did sleep unnaturally hard for a time last night. It must have been the drug that knocked me out so and caused those dreams."

  "Sam said he'd been wanting to—this is embarrassing. Nydia. Wanting to make it with me for a long time. He said if I said anything about it, he'd call me a liar and you'd believe him over me."

  "Go on, Janet. But I probably can guess the rest."

  "I don't know if you noticed last night, when you came in the den, but my shirt was unbuttoned some. I mean, I had real quick like buttoned it up."

  Once again, the dark force entered Nydia's thoughts. She visualized and replayed the events of earlier that morning. It was as the girl said. She could see her buttoning her shirt. Could see her going to the TV and turning off the set. And Sam had been … what? Confused. Yes. That and red-faced, as well. And his clothing was rumpled.

  Goddamn him!

  "Go on, Janet," Nydia bit at the words.

  "Well, he—this is really embarrassing for me. Sam unbuttoned my blouse and unzipped my jeans. He-began feeling me. Nydia, I swear I didn't know what to do. I wanted to yell, but I didn't. I just couldn't. He had said he put something in your juice. What was the point of yelling? I just—I just let him have his way. He undressed me and slipped off his pants. He was real big and hard. He took my hand and put it on his—you know. Told me to jack him off; said I'd like it, he was sure.

  "Nydia, I was so scared I didn't know what to do. He—got me wet. I couldn't help it! He was breathing real funny and saying really weird things. Scared me. Then he just picked me up—he's real strong, you know—and sat me down on him. He hurt me when he—well, how can I say it? Put it in. That's a gross way of saying it, isn't it? I don't know what would have happened if the phone hadn't rung. Then you came into the room and I was never so glad to see anyone in all my life. When the phone rang, Sam practically threw me off him and started jerking on his clothes.

  "Nydia, I think Sam was drunk; that's what made him go kinda wild. It won't happen again. I can promise you that."

  "It certainly won't!" Nydia said. She put a hand on Janet's shoulder. "Janet, I don't blame you. Don't think that for a minute."

  "Thank you, Nydia. I can't tell you how much that means to me."

  "Let's talk about this incident, Janet. Sam might have made you pregnant."

  "Oh, no, ma'am. No—he jerked away before it ever came to that. He got mad about that, too."

  "Serves him right," Nydia said tightly. "Are you sure, Janet? Be very sure, now."

  "Yes, ma'am. I'm sure."

  "Well, Monday I'll call my doctor in Blaine. I'll personally take you to see him. Just to be on the safe side."

  "All right," Janet said sweetly. Monday, you bitch, she thought, none of you will be allowed to leave. You will all remain here—forever.

  "Nydia—this has nothing to do with Sam, but I've been trying to think of a way to tell you for a few weeks."

  Nydia forced a smile. "Now what, Janet?"

  "Do you know Jon Le Moyne?"

  "No. Is he any relation to Father Le Moyne?"

  "Nephew. Anyway, the talk around school is that you and Jon have been seeing each other. Having an affair. Jon is supposed to be—well—real big—down there, if you know what I mean."

  That bit of gossip put the icing on the cake, shoved in the candles, lit them, and blew them out. Nydia turned and savagely slammed a pot into the sink. The handle broke off.

  "Son-of-a-bitch!" she said. "I've never even heard of Jon Le Moyne."

  Janet had to turn her head to prevent Nydia from seeing her smile of satisfaction. Everything was working out well. The name of Jon Le Moyne had been planted in Nydia's brain, and planted there by anger. She would not forget it.

  It had been arranged that Sam would remember very little about the lovemaking; but just enough to fill him with guilt. All he could do was beg his wife's forgiveness.

  And it would soon be arranged—only a matter of a few hours—for Nydia to meet Jon Le Moyne. While Sam would be conveniently away … with another woman. It would work. The Master was proud of Janet's plan.

  Yes, Janet thought, today would be the day. Nydia would be harboring ill feelings toward Sam—and the Master would see they became blacker as the minutes ticked past. And it was being arranged for Sam to meet another woman. Everything looked good. The oldest rule of warfare: Divide and conquer.

  Janet now looked at Nydia through different eyes. She took in the woman's lushness. For a moment, the girl allowed herself the luxury of erotic thoughts: images of her making love to Nydia. But she quickly brushed those aside, for the Master would not approve of that at this time. Perhaps when matters were all taken care of. But not now.

  "You want to take me home now, Miss Nydia?" Janet asked shyly.

  Nydia turned around, her eyes red from holding back tears. "Sure, Janet. Let me get my coat."

  Seve
ral times Monty had put his hand on the phone in the den, and several times he had pulled his hand away. If he called for help—would anybody believe him? He was sure something very odd was going down in Logandale. But worshipping the Devil? Now that day had dawned, he had doubts. But what about the ungodly appearing creature Balon had shot in the orchard? The strange way a lot of people were behaving? Nearly his entire force quitting without notice? Bodies disappearing? People and animals tortured to death in strange and bizarre ways? Again he put his hand on the phone. Again he pulled it away.

  He'd give it another day, max, before doing anything that might prompt the men in white coats to come drag him away, kicking and screaming to the funny farm.

  "Honey," his wife spoke from the hall.

  He looked at her and smiled. He never tired of looking at her. She was that beautiful. And had been on her way toward becoming a very successful fashion model when she elected to marry him. Monty could never understand why she made that move. But was ever so grateful that she did.

  He noticed the frown on her face. "Something wrong, honey?"

  She tapped her foot when she was angry. And she was tapping her foot now. "Very definitely wrong, Monty. We're being watched."

  "By whom?"

  "Two men in a car, parked out front. I don't know how long they've been there. Take a look."

  He walked to the drapes and narrowly parted them. There they sat. Dan Evans and Phil Curtis. Two local ne'er-do-wells that were constantly in and out of all sorts of mischief and minor brushes with the law. Monty had arrested them both a dozen times over the years. But…

  Then it came to him: The most successful lawyer in the county always was there to represent them, and he was the most successful lawyer in the county because he worked almost exclusively for…

  Norman Giddon.

  Coming together. And it was not a pretty package.

  Monty turned from the window and started down the hall to the front door. His wife's voice stopped him. He looked over his shoulder at her.

  "Don't go out there, Monty. Don't. For my sake. I'm getting frightened, Monty. Let's pack it up and in and get out of here. Just get the hell out!"