Sam shrugged it off. "She's probably a sound sleeper."
Nydia chose not to reply.
The young screaming began in the dark, evil depths of the mansion.
With the lighting in the room reduced to several flickering candles, and the fireplace popping and crackling, Lana held out her glass for a refill. Her third. "I've never tasted brandy like this. It's so good and smooth."
"It's rather expensive," Falcon admitted, tilting the decanter, filling her snifter past the point a brandy connoisseur would go.
"I like expensive things," she said, licking her lips.
"Oh?" Falcon arched an eyebrow expressively, the roguish gesture speaking volumes of understanding garnered through centuries of inamorata.
"Yes. I think I'll look for a rich man."
"I wish you success in your quest. You're speaking in terms of marriage, of course?"
She shrugged. "Not necessarily. I have a lot to offer the right man."
"Your beauty, of course. And your intelligence."
"And my virginity."
Falcon chuckled unbelievingly.
"You don't believe me?"
"I didn't mean that, my dear. It's just that in this day of sexual promiscuity, a virgin would be a priceless item."
"Well … I am," she said, pouting playfully.
The brandy was taking its toll on the young woman, loosening her tongue, lessening any inhibitions she may have had. "I like older men," she said flatly. "Guys my own age are so dumb. All they want to talk about is how fast their stupid cars will run, or how bad they are. I think guys my own age are really gross."
Falcon sat beside her on the leather couch. "Well, I am certainly glad I am beyond that adolescent silliness of having to prove how macho I am to young ladies who really don't care."
"Oh, lots of girls like that shit."
Falcon winced.
"Did I say something?"
He made his move. "Well … if I am to keep you in pretty clothes, expensive automobiles, and a purse full of money, I think I'd better work on your grammar, as well."
"You're going to do all that for me?"
"Would you like that?"
"What do I have to do to earn it?"
He looked at her with his unreadable eyes, dark and hooded. "Only that which is usually required in any arrangement of that type."
"And that is?"
"You tell me, dear."
The gold digger in her sprang to the surface. "I don't mean to be crude, I really don't, but I'd want it in writing."
"Then you shall certainly have it, darling."
"Just like that?"
"Oui."
"I don't speak much French. You'll have to teach me."
"I shall teach you many things, darling. Be assured of that."
"Why me, Falcon? You could have your choice of half the women in the world. I'm just a nineteen-year-old kid."
"You appeal to me. In many ways."
"Will I have to worship the Devil, too?"
That set him back. A grin creased his mouth, then he was roaring with laughter. He reached into his jacket pocket and removed a handkerchief made of the finest linen, wiping his eyes. "So, Lana, dear, Black badly misjudged you, eh?"
"Black is an idiot, and you know it."
"Only too well, my dear. I thought I had you convinced the other evening."
"You were wrong. A lot of people usually are about me. But that doesn't answer my question."
"I was under the impression you were a devout Christian."
"I still have my virginity, Falcon, but as far as me being a Christian … I used to jack-off the preacher back home."
That startled Falcon, and the warlock was not easily jarred. "I beg your pardon?"
"Yeah, his wife didn't like sex, and he'd had the hots for me since I was about eleven. So we made a deal. I'd give him a hand job several times a week and he'd give me money. More money for a blow job."
"You might have difficulty doing that with me."
"Sucking you off, you mean?"
"Crudely put, but correct."
"Nobody's that big."
His smile told her she was wrong.
"May I see?"
"By all means."
She opened his trousers and hissed at the sight, wrapping her soft fingers around the organ. "You'd make some of those porn stars look like babies. You really expect to stick all that into me?"
"That I do, my dear." He reached into an inside pocket and removed a medallion and gold chain. "This one is a bit different from the others. Much more intricate in detail. If you'll be so kind as to release your grip from my penis, dear, I'll get a magnifying glass and you can see for yourself."
She removed her hand from his penis. "I'll take your word for it, Falcon. But you still have not answered my question."
"I think you know the answer, Lana. Let's not be coy. After this half-hour of conversation, I feel I know you rather well. I don't believe your thoughts have been pristine and Christian for years. I don't believe you give one whit for any Christian God; so what does that leave you?"
"You're pretty sharp, Falcon."
"More than you know, Lana. And were I you, I'd bear that in mind."
"What do I have to do to get into your church … whatever you call it?"
"Put this medallion around your neck, renounce your God, and take the oath."
"That's it?"
"It's a one-way trip, my pretty."
"No returns, no exchanges," she stated.
"That's how uncomplicated it is. The Christian God is very unyielding about other gods, Lana, and quite specific about worshiping the Prince of Darkness."
"Big deal. I won't have to attend that stupid fucking college anymore?"
"No."
"I get a car of my choice, money, clothes, a place to live—a nice place?"
"All those things, dear."
"But it really means nothing to you, does it. Me, I mean."
His shrug was noncommittal.
"And you're not the only one I'll have to screw, right?"
"You'll understand once you become one of us, Lana."
She slipped the gold chain over her head, around her neck, the medallion gleaming dully between the mounds of her breasts. "Oh, what the hell," she said. "Tell me what I have to say."
The wailing had begun anew, with an added note of pain and horror that was increasingly difficult for Sam and Nydia to ignore.
Roma appeared at their open door, a smile on her red lips. "Her name is Janet," she said. "Such a pretty little thing. And Karl is holding up quite well for a man his age. He introduced himself to her pretty little pussy at first, now he is experimenting with the back door. I don't believe she's enjoying it very much, do you? Pity. I always have."
"I'll try it that way with you, Roma," Sam said, ignoring the sudden look of fright of Nydia's face.
"Oh?" the witch's face brightened.
"Yeah. But you're probably so wallowed out I'll have to tie a two by four on my ass to keep from falling in."
Pure evil hate flickered in Roma's eyes. "You'll pay dearly for that remark, Sam."
"Yeah," Sam said, the word coming out slow and soft. "You're probably right. But my payment will not be the way you're thinking of it."
Roma grinned wickedly. "You see, Sam Balon King: already you are thinking about your sins against your Master and how you will be punished. Oh, Sam! Why are you fighting what you know you truly want in your heart? Sam, Sam. My Master doesn't disapprove of a brother-sister love affair. And you two are in love; that's evident for all to see." She walked across the room, sitting down in a chair. "What does your God offer you—either of you?" she looked at her daughter. "You want me to answer for you? I can assure you both, I know the Bible far better than either of you. I can quote you book, chapter, and verse." Without waiting for a reply, she said, "Read Leviticus, Chapter eighteen. Read it … both of you, and see what His wrath will be."
Sam and Nydia sat quietly, listening to
her.
"But my Master, children, oh, he is a far more forgiving Master than your God. And so much easier to obey.
"1 won't bore you or tempt you further, children. All I ask is that you both think about my words. Think about them while you two are lying in bed this night, close to each other, wanting each other, but fearful to touch. Fear, children, that's what your Master offers you … and nothing else."
She was gone, simply vanishing before their eyes.
Nydia and Sam looked at each other, the unspoken question in their minds hanging like a shroud between them.
"Incredibly tight," Falcon muttered hotly. "I don't believe I've ever had a woman this tight." He seemed oblivious to the moanings of the young woman beneath him. He worked in another inch.
Lana screamed, attempting to push him away … anything to ease the pain. But she succeeded only in aiding the man in his onward and inward conquest. Bright spots of blood dotted the whiteness of sheet beneath her nakedness.
The medallion between her sweaty breasts glowed faintly.
Falcon bent his head to touch his lips to hers. "Only a bit more, my dear, and then you will begin to enjoy our afternoon's tete-a-tete."
He hunched and she screamed.
There is, Falcon mused with a smile, nothing so lovely as a young lady receiving her first taste of cock … especially if the cock is large enough to produce wails of pain.
Lana bit her lip and wept in pain.
On his knees, Falcon's hands on her hips, he pulled her to him, savoring her pleas for mercy. With one savage hunching motion, he finally pulled her to him, impaling her to the full extent as his eyes drank in her nakedness, enjoying her pain. He allowed her to rest for a moment as he viewed her.
Her once shiny blond hair was now matted from perspiration-induced pain; a trickle of sweat ran from her pulsing throat between her breasts. And such lovely breasts, he thought. High and firm and tipped with delicate roses. Ah, youth, he mused, fleeting and fickle in its brevity. Such a pity it is wasted on the young.
He said, "Did you know, my dear—of course not, how could you—that I had the largest cock in all of Paris?"
"Take it out!" she screamed.
"Is it hurting you?" Falcon smiled.
"Yes!"
"Good." His smile widened. "It has been said that pain serves to enhance pleasure."
That said, Falcon withdrew from her and with one brutal thrust, rammed his thick length home.
Her screams echoed about the cabin in the woods.
That done, pleasured by her pain, Falcon began making love to her, gently, allowing her cunt to adjust to him, allowing the juices within her to flow, and it was not long before pleasure overwhelmed pain, and she began to whimper under a shivering climax.
"Do you love my Master?" Falcon asked.
"Yes!" she hissed.
Falcon settled into the rhythm that has become the oldest introduction of the species … and the most pleasurable, and Lana groaned her welcome.
"Any other God but mine is shit, Lana," he said.
"Yes," was her reply. "The Christian God is shit!"
At his promptings, Lana repeated more damning words, the medallion between her breasts glowing its approval as more blasphemies rolled from her mouth, the words becoming filthy in content, raw obscenities from the lips of youth, from a heart now blackened forever by the soot from the ever-smoking pits of Hell. Her hands rubbed his naked flesh, taking pleasure and comfort from the hot flesh, working their way down his flat belly, into his hairy crotch, her fingers gently touching the beginnings of his thick root, now slick from her own juices.
And as he drove into her, each thrust a hammer blow of male density, roughly caressing the silkiness of female inner heat, the words from her mouth increased in number and profane impiety, until the room filled with the radiance from the medallion.
They thrashed on the damp sheets, each seeking -release, while Falcon encouraged Lana's verbal garbage, prompting her, pushing her past the point of no return, searing her flesh and filling her heart with painless invisible burning coals from his Master's kingdom in the netherworld.
"Fuck God!" she screamed, as Falcon's meat of the Devil, a gift from the Dark One plummeted home. "All praise the Lord of Flies."
"I am his," Falcon urged.
"I am his!" she screamed.
And Falcon gently sank his teeth into her neck, painlessly sipping a few drops of her. And she was his. Not of this world. An event that Falcon had discreetly failed to mention would occur.
FIFTEEN
"We'll have a full twenty-four hours to gather strength for the ordeal facing us," Sam said, the words seeming to leap from his mouth, as if a separate brain had taken full control.
"Why?" Nydia asked. "How do you know that?"
"Someone is telling me these things. And I don't feel inclined to question the source. Sunday is the one day the forces of Black Magic, Od, Satanists, whatever you choose to call them, can't move. Supposedly," he put a disclaimer on that. "That is God's day, and we'll probably be left alone." He fell moodily silent for a few moments.
"What are you thinking, Sam? I can't quite read you."
"Probably the same as you: how we're going to get out of this mess; how we're going to win it."
"You mean, if we're going to win it."
His eyes became alive with a fever she had never before witnessed. "No. Nydia, not if. We can't have doubts— ever. The instant we start doubting, and really dwell on those doubts, we're finished. If we start doing that, we may as well hang it up."
"I'm … not as strong as you, Sam. I'm a newcomer to all this."
"What do you think I am?" His words were spoken much more harshly than intended.
Tears touched her eyes, rolling down her cheeks. "Don't be angry with me, Sam—please? I'll do whatever you tell me to do, but you've got to help me."
He sighed, taking her hands in his. "I'm sorry I snapped, honey. I'll die for you if I have to." And she knew he meant it. "I love you, Nydia. Even though I know it's wrong, and I'll—we'll—pay for it someday. I can't deny my love for you any more than I could deny my love and faith for the Lord God."
"Roma was right, you know. Our love is wrong, and God won't have it; He won't allow it to go unpunished."
"Let's get out of this … mess first," he said grimly. "Then we'll worry about that."
"Worry about that tomorrow?" She forced a smile. "But where is Tara, Sam?"
"Wherever we choose to make it, honey. And we will make it—together."
"Promise me?"
"Yes." He spoke with renewed faith, renewed hope. "Yes, I promise."
They wanted very badly to kiss, but both held their emotions in check. She pulled her hands from his and stood up, walking across the carpet to her room, picking up the Bible along the way. "I'm going to study this for a while, Sam."
He could but nod his approval.
The crowds of Devil worshipers in Whitfield paraded up and down in front of Miles' home, shouting filthy words and making obscene gestures. But no one dared to violate the space guarded by the huge Clay Man, and the golem would not venture past the front yard. It was a stand-off.
"Around back,'' Jean Zagone suggested to her foreman. "We'll keep that fuckin' monster occupied here; you take some people around to the back of the house. Quietly now. Try to take them alive for some fun.''
The foreman, Jake, nodded his approval. "I'll get in my pickup, pretend like I'm leavin'. That ought to throw 'em off some. Then I'll circle 'round back, pickin' up some guys I know along the way."
"Go. Get some men you can depend on, Jake."
"You can depend on me, baby."
Jean watched his slender ass as he walked away. Jake was one of the heaviest-hung cowboys she had ever known, and she reckoned she had fucked about half the men in the county. But Jake was pure randy, and wasn't nothing he wouldn't do; nothing too kinky for ol' Jake. And he was mean and about half crazy, to boot. And he sure liked to fuck.
J
ake had told her any number of times over the years, way back when they was just gettin' this Coven started, that he sure would like to shove the meat to Jane Ann; either end, didn't make no difference to him.
Jean had promised him he could have Jane Ann. That had got him so turned on she had to suck him off right then and there. Damn cock so big she couldn't hardly get it in her mouth. Cummed all over her.
Jake located several of the Coven's good old boys and together they eased around to the back of Miles' house, as furtively as possible. The golem was standing impassively in the front yard, making no move toward the street. Jake knew that to attempt to shoot the goddamned thing was useless: he had personally pumped a full clip of .308s into the fuckin' thing and hadn't even staggered it; the slugs just bounced off, one of them hitting one of his own people on the ricochet. Jake didn't know where the Clay Man had come from, but he damn sure didn't want any truck with it, not after seeing it rip off both arms of man with no more effort than if he'd been lifting a soft titty to squeeze.
Jake shook his head; have to quit thinkin' 'bout pussy, he cautioned himself. Ain't had none in two days, and that wasn't good for a man: man ought to wet his dauber every day—twice a day if he could find a hole to stick it in. He sneered as he thought of Jane Ann. Now that was gonna be some prime fuckin'. Prissy little psalm-singin' bitch. So damn high and mighty when everybody knew she was fuckin' that preacher fellow, Balon, way back then, and them not even married, or nothing. Bet her eyes will pop when I shove my meat to her, Jake thought, grinning. Got to be close to 45 years old and still looks good enough to eat.
They were back of the house, squatting down behind a line of hedge, watching for anything out of the ordinary. They saw nothing to alarm them.
"Jew boy so sure his God's gonna take care of them they ain't even guardin" the back," Boo said.
"Stupid fuckers," Clint agreed. "Come on, let's take 'em. I wanna see that Jew bitch squall when we pour gasoline on her and set her afire."
But Jake was too old a hand to be sucked into something this obvious. And since he didn't particularly care for either Clint or Boo, he said, "You boys git on up there. Me and Link'll stay back a piece, keep a good eye on your back trail."
The two overanxious members of Zagone's Coven nodded their heads in eager agreement. They ran across the yard. They made it to the back porch steps before two shotguns blasted, the slugs from one catching Boo in the face, blowing his head apart. The other blast hitting Clint in the center of his chest, flinging him backward. He died as he hit the ground.
The Devil's Heart Page 17
