The Devil's Touch

by William W. Johnstone

  "Not yet, Mack," the man to his right said. "Not yet. "It isn't time."

  The burly man relaxed. He grinned at Sam. His teeth were yellow, with several missing, leaving black gaps in his mouth. "O.K., boy," he said. "You can go pat your young pussy some more. You're off the hook—for awhile."

  The trio wheeled about and quickly disappeared into the timber. They moved swiftly and silently among the brush, and Sam knew they were all expert woodsmen. He tucked that thought back into his mind for storage.

  Sam walked back to his truck, backed up and turned around, heading back to town.

  "What in the world was that all about?" Desiree asked. "Those men frightened me."

  Sam glanced at her. She did indeed appear to be frightened. Her face was pale.

  "I don't know, Desiree," he replied, the clouds once more gathering in his mind, slowing reason. "Local roughnecks, I guess. Looking for a laugh at someone else's expense. You find them all over the country. Down in our Southern states, law-abiding people call them trash. I'm not so certain that isn't an apt description of them."

  She slowly nodded her head in agreement. "What did they mean: 'You're off the hook—for awhile?' What's going on in this town, Sam?"

  Sam fought to clear his head, and succeeded for a moment. He could not for the life of him recall how he came to be with Desiree. He remembered kissing her, holding her, but could not understand why he did those things. He could remember nothing about Janet. He shook his head.

  "Are you all right, Sam?"

  "I don't know," he replied honestly. "I wish I knew."

  "Turn here," the dark voice whispered in Nydia's brain. "It's all right. You are doing the correct thing, and you know it."

  "Yes," she muttered.

  She turned down the street where Jon Le Moyne lived. Something … odd seemed to be in possession of her mental and physical functions. Or at least that part of her she inherited from her mother. Any doubts as to the wrongfulness of what she was doing were blown away, leaving her mind under the lightless throes of the evil that clung invisibly about her.

  She slowed when she saw Jon sitting on the front steps of his house. She pulled over to the curb and cut the engine. It was very quiet in this part of town. She could see no one. But they were watching her from the shaded windows of homes. She looked at Jon. He was a very handsome young man.

  As if by magic—which it was, of the darker type—Nydia viewed the clear picture of Sam and Desiree leaping into her mind, and the old rage became fresh, stronger than ever before.

  "Go to him," the voice whispered.

  Still Nydia hesitated, the good within her battling the evil.

  Jon sat on the porch, looking at the woman he had erotically shared so many nights and dreams with. Soon he would be touching her skin, gently cupping the breasts he had passionately kissed in his fevered imagination. He would be feeling her hands on him. The coven leader had told him last night Nydia would be coming to him. Jon had not thought that possible, but did not question the Leader.

  Now she was here.

  Nydia's hands gripped the steering wheel as more powerful, darker forces entered her mind, the forces bringing with them the actual scenes of Sam and Desiree standing by the road, embracing, kissing, touching, grinding against each other. She watched as Sam's hand slipped down the young woman's waist to caress her buttocks.

  "You bastard!" she hissed.

  And Evil defeated Good once more.

  The vision faded. Nydia got out of the car and walked up toward the boy. He stood up and opened the screen door to the porch. She hesitated for only a few seconds, then stepped inside the door. The door closed behind her.

  "No!" the voice spoke like thunder. "We interfered once before. This time they must combat the Dark One by themselves."

  The ageless warrior of warriors looked at his God.

  "They are mortals fighting forces they cannot understand or reckon with."

  "They understand!" the voice roared, echoing throughout the firmament. "They have only to open the pages of their Bible and read it! It is all there for them to learn."

  "They don't have the time."

  "How much time does it take to read, 'Thou shalt have no other gods before me!'"

  The warrior gripped his sword. He turned to leave.

  "I forbid your leaving the firmament."

  A smile played across the mighty warrior's lips. His beard moved as he spoke. "What would You have done with me, then? Banishment?"

  "You would not be the first," the warrior was reminded. "But banishment was your choice of punishment, not mine."

  "You will consider the problem?"

  "Don't I always?"

  "Sometimes for eons." The warrior's reply was dry as the pits of hell are hot.

  "Michael, old warrior friend, not everything can be solved by the sword."

  "Would You prefer the jawbone of an ass?"

  The returning sigh was as thunder rolling across the heavens. "Sometimes I wonder why I continue to tolerate such impudence."

  "Because absolute power corrupts!" the warrior said with a laugh that roared and rumbled like a hurricane.

  He could not suppress the chuckle. "Leave me for a time; I will consider your request.'

  "I knew You would."

  And the heavens were silent.

  FIVE

  Sam cleared his head for a time—something cleared it—and drove past his house, intending to take Desiree in to meet Nydia. But his wife's car was still gone. For a reason the young man could not fathom, that irritated him, rubbed his ability to reason down to raw nerve ends. He ground his teeth together and silently swore. He was conscious of Desiree looking at him, a curious look in her eyes.

  The young woman proved her astuteness when she said, "Sam, if you and your wife are having troubles of some sort, being with me is the last thing you need at this time."

  Sam went on the defensive—with a little unknown help. "What I do, Desiree, is my business. Besides, there are—certain things you don't know; no way you could know about them. Perhaps this is the time to—" He went blank. He could not remember what he was about to say. He blinked, then met her gaze. "What was I just saying?"

  She returned the blink and added a smile. "It was nothing, Sam. Don't worry about it."

  "O.K. Let's drive a bit more."

  "I am with you, Sam."

  They began circling the town, the anger steadily growing in Sam. She just dumped the boy and took off, he thought. She knew where I was going; I told her that last night after going to bed. But she chooses not to tell me a goddamn thing. Hell with her.

  "Perhaps she is with her lover," a voice whispered in Sam's brain.

  Yeah, Sam thought. Maybe.

  "Perhaps she is searching for the ultimate orgasm. Didn't she once tell you that she liked a teeny bit of pain mixed in with her pleasures?"

  Did Nydia say that? Sam pondered. Yeah, I guess she did. But he couldn't remember when.

  "Jon Le Moyne would certainly give her just a teeny bit of pain with the pleasure."

  The voice faded.

  There was that name again. It was coming up with too much frequency not to have some truth behind it.

  He looked to his right at an intersection and stomped on the brakes so hard the rear tires sang against the pavement.

  "Sam!" Desiree protested. "What is it? What's wrong?" She fell back against the seat.

  Sam expelled a long breath. He looked at Desiree. "I guess the stories are true after all. That just about confirms it in my mind. That's my wife's car parked right over there, on the left side of the street."

  "All right. So she's visiting a friend. What is so wrong about that?"

  "That friend is a high school student. A junior, I think." How did I know that? "A boy. But a young boy so well-equipped in the manhood department a lot of * women in this community would give anything to bed him down—so the stories go. I've heard stories, rumors, gossip, about my wife and Jon Le Moyne. Lot of stories." But he co
uld not recall the source of a single story. That thought quickly left him. It was replaced just as quickly by hot anger and a feeling for revenge. His time with Janet was something that had been, for the time, blocked from him.

  "Well," Desiree said. "I see. She must be quite brazen to park her car in front of her lover's house in broad daylight. My people are a bit more discreet than that. Perhaps she doesn't care if you find them out, oui?"

  Sam opened his mouth to tell her that perhaps Nydia was under the control of the Devil, but that was wiped from his mind before it could transmit to his tongue.

  Sam said, "Well if she doesn't care, then I damn sure don't. Can you blame me for that?"

  "A quelque chose malheur est bon," Desiree said with a smile and a mischievous sparkle in her gray eyes.

  "I used to speak fair French, but not anymore. What did you say?"

  "That it was an ill wind that blows no good. For somebody," she added in English.

  "Yes," Sam replied, returning the smile. A thought came to him. By God, he'd show Nydia. "Fox Estate must be beautiful. I've heard a lot about it. Would you show it to me?"

  Enchanté, Sam."

  They had gathered at Monty and Viv Draper's home. Noah Crisp, Father Le Moyne, Byron Price, Joe Bennett, Mille LaMeade, and her friend, Ginny. They were joined by the minister of the Baptist church, Richard Hasseling, and John Morton of the Episcopal church. John Morton's wife was at home, and Hasseling was a young bachelor.

  Monty listened to the phone ring on the other end of the line for the tenth time. For the tenth time he hung up. "I don't know where they are," he said. "This is not like Sam." He paused. "Now, why did I say that? I scarcely know him."

  Hasseling waved a hand impatiently. "No matter, Chief Draper. What does matter at this time is the frame of mind you people appear to be in. I'm worried about you all. The Devil is in Logandale? Satan is responsible for the lack of church attendance today? Really, people!" He fought unsuccessfully to hide his smile and to keep his contempt out of his tone. "Come on, all of you. This is just a very elaborate joke on your part that fell flat."

  The Episcopal's opinion of what he had just heard was not much better than the Baptist's. "I'll admit, Daniel, I'm concerned about what happened today, or perhaps I should say what didn't happen on this day. But I am not yet ready to say the Devil is alive and well and living in Logandale."

  "It's all nonsense and we are wasting our time here," the Methodist said. "I cannot believe I have sat here and actually listened to all this."

  "You all had best take this seriously," Noah informed the ministers. "For I assure you all, this is not a joke. Please believe me."

  The pastor of the Fundamentalist church, the Pentecost church, the Assembly of God church, and several others were all seen by Father Le Moyne and Noah. One had slammed the door in their faces, another had been quite rude, and the others had openly laughed at the men.

  The Episcopalian vacillated for a moment. "All right, Daniel. I'll stay and hear this out," he finally said. "I have to admit my children are—have been—behaving a bit strangely."

  That word again, Monty thought. It keeps popping up every hour or so.

  "If you people are so certain Satan is in Logandale," Hasseling said, this time making no attempt to hide his smile, "and there is a coven active in this town, this community, why don't you call the state police and let them handle it?" The young minister leaned back in his chair and folded his arms across his chest. His smile was more than a bit on the smug side.

  The self-satisfied smile was infuriating to Noah. The writer resisted an urge to get up, walk over to the preacher, and slap the piss out of him.

  Here we go again, Mille thought, as she looked at Monty. She could tell he was getting angry.

  "Because they wouldn't believe us," Monty said. "We have no proof."

  "And you never will have any proof," Hasseling said. "Because there isn't any proof. All this is a figment of your overactive imaginations." He laughed aloud.

  Noah leaned forward and shocked everybody in the room by saying, "Preacher, when those coven members out there," he said and jerked his thumb, "successfully take over this town—and they will, if we don't band together and fight them, and bend you over a table and shove a ten inch cock up your ass, maybe then you'll believe us."

  "Whooo!" Mille said with a laugh. "That'd be a sight to see."

  "Noah!" Father Le Moyne said.

  Viv had to fight to hide a smile.

  "Lordy!" Joe said.

  Hasseling's face grew red and he was about to respond when something came shattering through the picture window of the den. The heavy object bounced on the floor, leaving a wet red smear as it slid to a halt at Richard Hasseling's feet. Richard took one look at the horrible thing and vomited up his breakfast.

  There would be no turning back for her now. She was under the full power of the Dark One. Standing this close to evil, Nydia could but obey the messages her brain was receiving from the forces that gleefully guided her actions.

  She could function, she could ask questions, but she had no control over her actions. "Where are your parents, Jon?"

  "Syracuse," the young man said. He reached out and ran his hand down the side of her face, caressing the softness of her throat. He hesitantly fondled a breast. When she did not draw away from his touch, he pressed both hands to her breasts. "They were coming back today, but I just got a call from the state police telling me they were killed in a car accident early this morning."

  Part of her mind registered shock at the matter-of-fact manner he related and was responding to the death of his parents. But that small part of her mind was being overridden by the evil transmitted to her. "Your father is the priest's brother? Father Le Moyne?"

  "Yeah," the young man said. He unbuttoned her blouse and licked his lips at the sight of her bra. He touched the soft flesh of her.

  "Have you notified Father Le Moyne?"

  "Naw. Who gives a shit? The bodies will be here late this afternoon anyways. Then he'll get a chance to see them tonight." Jon giggled. "And I mean really see them. You know what I mean?"

  That small part of her mind that still functioned under her control recoiled at what she knew he was saying. His parents were now a part of the living dead. The undead. And the boy thought it funny. Again, that part of her mind was overridden by the dark forces. She stood passively as he slipped her blouse from her shoulders and dropped the garment to the floor. She felt coolness on bare skin. His hands caressed her, found the clasp to her bra, and that followed her blouse to the floor. Her breasts swung free.

  Jon touched one nipple with a trembling fingertip. The nipple swelled. "Take off the rest of your clothes, Nydia," he told her.

  She undressed and stood naked before him.

  Jon ran his hands over her body, inspecting, exploring. The dark voices instructed her to respond, and she did, becoming as aroused as the boy.

  He jerked his clothing from him, buttons flying and bouncing around the room. He stood naked before her, and she could not take her eyes from his hardness.

  "We're going to have fun today, Nydia," he told her. "We're going to fuck away the afternoon. Just the two of us, doing things we've both dreamed of."

  "All right," she heard herself say.

  "Get down on your knees in front of me. You know what to do."

  She knelt down on the carpet and lifted her eyes to meet his.

  "Lick it," he told her.

  An invisible barrier was being erected around Logandale. Extending for ten miles in any direction, the line could not be seen by the naked eye or felt by any human not confined within its barriers. But it was as real as Heaven and Hell.

  The nonbelievers in Logandale, those not committed to the practices of the black arts, were trapped. There were only two ways out: accept the Dark One as a master—or die.

  Out-of-town motorists driving through the barrier could not detect the line of evil. But they would not stop within the ten miles the system spanned
, encircling the designated area of control. Logandale and Nelson College were slowly being cut off from the outside world. Good would soon be replaced by Evil. If all went as the Prince of Darkness planned; if his orders were carried out by his followers as he dictated; if God or his warrior did not intervene … then for the first time in the history of the United States, one entire community would be under the powers of the Prince of Hell. The Lord of Flies. Master of Darkness and Evil.

  If all went as planned.

  It looked good to the leader of the coven and his council. The daughter of the Prince was here, and the Princess would soon make her move against Sam Balon. Very soon, young Mr. Balon would no longer be any threat. Very soon.

  The object that had shattered its way into the den of the Draper house, and into the lives of the people gathered there had, in its living form, been a poodle. It now resembled, at best, something out of a horror movie. The little animal had been skinned and its belly sliced open. When it was hurled through the window, its intestines and other organs were sprayed all over the room. Joe found the heart and liver in his lap. He yelled and threw the bloody objects off him.

  Byron Price looked down at the floor. A gray pile of intestines lay by his feet.

  John Morton stared in undisguised revulsion at the red smear of blood on the floor.

  Viv and Mille both held back screams, checking the outrage in their throats.

  Monty Draper cussed.

  Father Le Moyne crossed himself while Noah fought back sickness that gathered hotly in his stomach, threatening to boil from his mouth.

  Ginny sat in numbed shock.

  And Richard Hasseling puked on his shoes.

  "It's begun," Father Le Moyne said. "We failed to heed the warnings. Now it's begun. And it may be too late for any of us."

  "No!" Hasseling screamed, jumping from his chair. "It's a filthy game of some sort."

  "It's filthy, all right," Noah told him. "But as I tried to tell you before, this is no game. Now maybe you'll pull your head out of your ass and wise up."

  "Don't you dare speak to me in that manner!" the minister shouted at the writer.