The Devil's Heart (15 page)

Falcon sighed, walking to her, taking her hand. "I am really quite fond of you, Roma."

She jerked her hand from his. "Don't become maudlin. You know the only love we may experience is that which we feel for the Master."

"Yes. But I see now why you are doing this thing."

She looked up at him.

"You fell in love with Balon, didn't you?"

Her steady gaze did not waver.

"You don't have to go to this extreme in penitence, Roma. It wasn't that terrible a deed."

"It isn't atonement, Falcon. Put that out of your mind. I merely wish to leave a legacy—some part of me."

"Say it all, Roma," he urged her. "Share it with me—our feelings."

She shook her head. "No. That is past."

"That's not what I mean."

And the thoughts of the witch and the warlock were mingled: what if they failed here at Falcon House? What if all the plans of the Master came to naught? What then?

"I must say it," Falcon said. "You believe there is a chance we will fail?"

"Balon's love child has powers even he doesn't know about—yet. The young man might never have to bring them into play. Yes, he could beat us. So any demon child we produce is simply insurance against the future. I have the Master's permission to do this, so it is settled. And you will have to play a part with Nydia."

"We don't know she is Christian."

"I believe she is."

The witch and the warlock looked at each other for several seconds. Falcon then nodded his head. "I will do my part."

"Always remembering that right up to the last moment, we must attempt to convert them."

"Yes."

"But we may as well gather what we can—just in case. I need blood. The nonbeliever must not die, for we will have to return again and again." Their thoughts were shared. "Yes," Roma said. "She will do." She touched her neck. "Tonight, Falcon. Do it."

He vanished.

Everlasting life; eternal youth; beauty for the women, never-failing virility for the men; an orgy that would span time; an end to the mundane worries that plague mortals. That is what the Lord of Darkness had promised the Coven members of Whitfield in return for their pledge of service to him. For a nether world here on God's earth. Just one spot that would truly be the kingdom of the damned; of the Cloven hoof. Then, as time trudged on, the disciples of Mephistopheles could spread slowly outward, carrying the message born in the smoking pits to others, until the Prince of Filth ruled a county, a state, a country, or a world.

All was ready. The churches of Whitfield no longer held any trace of the Lord God: the crosses were hanging upside down; the altars were draped in black; the instruments of Holy Communion were filled with the vilest of liquids ... all was in ready to receive the Prince of Darkness.

The word was received: Let it begin.

Falcon slipped down the quiet hall of the great house, pausing often to listen. But any slight sound he might have made was muted by the clashing of the storm as it battered the land. At a bedroom door, he stood for a time, a smile playing across his lips. He tried the door knob. Unlocked. He eased the door open and let his eyes play across the form of the girl sprawled in deep sleep on the bed.

Judy was a true Christian, Black had said, loyal to her God and His teachings.

She won't be for long, Falcon smiled, the lips pulling back in a grisly leer, exposing the true direction of his long, bloody life. Fangs now marred the perfection of his ivory smile; his tongue was swollen, crimson as it throbbed with anticipation, mentally savoring the hot burst of living blood.

Falcon slipped into the room, quietly closing the door behind him, the noise of the heavy storm covering his soft footsteps. Standing over the bed, he began a low incantation, his deep voice soothing the young woman, edging her deeper into sleep, the slumber becoming a state of deep hypnosis as his voice touched her dulling senses. Falcon pushed her through the stages of induced sleep, until finally she was secure in the deep somnambulistic state of controlled sleep … and then past that into sleep controlled by the Master of the Black Arts, Ruler of the Netherworld.

Falcon gently slipped the thin cover from her body, licking his lips at the sight of her young beauty, his blood-red tongue bumping over the fangs on either side of his mouth, the points of the fangs arousing the engorged organ.

Judy was a dark-haired young beauty, the dark brown hair spilling over the whiteness of the pillow, shining with cleanliness and health. Falcon touched the silkiness of youth, entwining his fingers in the strands, loving the feel of her. For a moment he sat on the edge of the bed, a dozen emotions playing within his head. He recalled through the years that he had once done the same in Spain, centuries ago, with a lovely young lady who had a calling to be a nun. She had slept in a magnificent villa on the coast while Falcon had toyed with her, finally taking her. He smiled at the recall.

Judy lay on her side, clad only in the scantiest of bra and pantie. The young ladies now, Falcon noted, no matter how pristine they pretend to be, do enjoy the loveliest of undergarments. He touched the softness of inner thigh, and the young woman stirred at his finger touch, sighing above the noise of the raging storm, stirring in her sleep. Falcon whispered a soothing phrase and she turned onto her back, her legs parting. He flipped the front clasp to her lacy bra, and young breasts sprang free, firm and rose-tipped, the nipples slightly erect from the rush of cool air.

"Lovely," Falcon breathed.

He bent his head and allowed his swollen tongue to touch one nipple, working at the tautness. She moved under the tongue play, her small hands clenching into fists at her side. He moved his mouth downward, between the young breasts, licking down her stomach, to the slight mound of her lower belly. He rolled the brief pantie from her, past the edge of pubic hair, uncovering the sweetness of her mons veneris. Bending his head, Falcon tasted the freshness of youth, his swelling, protruding tongue dipping into the sudden moisture of her.

He pulled away before his sensuality became too great to be controlled and he would have been forced to mount the sleeping beauty. That would have to wait. But it would be. Again, a smile played a macabre dance on his lips. Perhaps, soon, he could mount her as he sipped her life's blood, both of them climaxing just as life left her, just at that moment when her heart convulsed and died. That was one of Falcon's greatest thrills, and it occurred only too rarely.

Falcon put his hand on her soft belly, allowing his fingers to slide downward, to gently caress the mound of Venus, one finger softly parting and entering the folds of her. She moaned under the digital intrusion, and Falcon placed his mouth to hers, her breath hot and sweet as she experienced a burst of lascivious pleasure, her juices wetting her thighs. In her deep mesmeric slumber, she began to move on the bed in approaching climax, Falcon's finger encountering no resistance of maidenhead as it plunged deeper into the satin heat of female.

He sensed she was very close to climax as her knees came up and her soft thighs closed, entrapping his hand and pleasuring finger, his thumb on her clitoris, rubbing the hard erectile of the vulva, swollen now in sexual enjoyment.

Just as Judy began to shiver in the throes of first climax, Falcon dipped his mouth to her neck and worked his fangs into the carotid artery just behind her ear. For a moment he greedily sucked at the flow of warm blood from her thrashing body. The liquid, thick and rich, filled his mouth and dribbled down his thirsty throat, the warm, slightly salty taste enriching him, flooding him with vitality. He removed a vial from his pocket and held it against Judy's neck, beneath his teeth, filing the small bottle with blood. She gasped as climax lunged through her, then sighed as the warm aftermath filled her with lingering contentment.

Falcon eased his fangs from her neck, licking away the last drops of crimson from the closing puncture wounds. He removed his finger from her and dressed her as he had found her, covering her with the sheet. The storm raged on.

"Sleep well, my dear," Falcon said. "For you are now one of us. Whether you will remain as such, only time will tell. But I shall be back."

He returned to Roma, to give her the first of many ingredients, and to satisfy the aching in his loins. The storm beat on as the witch and the warlock coupled, Roma screaming out a mixture of pain and pleasure as she was impaled on Falcon's huge erection.

And while Sam and Nydia slept in each other's arms, content if not safe, and Judy slowly drifted out of her hypnotic state, dreaming of being tired, Adam kneeled in front of Lane's nakedness and took pleasure in homosexual love. Lana slept soundly, a slight smile on her lips. Linda dreamed of eternal youth and beauty, a dream she often materialized in sleep. Chad and Burt and Lester took their pleasures with Sandy and Vicky and Carol and Madge and Anne: a daisy chain of debauchery as the storm raged. Black caressed the nakedness of Susan prior to mounting her, her cries of pain-pleasure filling the room as Black's manhood filled her.

And in the caves beneath the land, behind the great house, the Beasts waited. The storm did not disturb them: they had seen many storms, and they knew they had nothing to fear from the elements. It was what walked above them, that human the old one had told them about they must be wary of.

Jimmy Perkins sat in a chair in his living quarters above the garage and slowly masturbated, his thoughts of Nydia. He fantasized of having sex with her; all sorts of sex, from the norm to the bizarre. He spilled his semen on the floor and leaned back in the chair. He felt better, but it was not enough … self-abuse never is. The time was growing near, and Jimmy wanted real sex and warm blood.

Nydia's blood.

He rose from the chair, zipping up his pants, letting himself out of the room. He slipped through the dark afternoon. Perhaps he could not have the daughter of the witch this day, but there was always one of the others. And if he could not have one of the young women, there was always one of the young men. Falcon had promised him—in a manner of speaking—he could take one of the young men.

"Any hole in a storm," Jimmy chuckled, proud of himself for his burst of human humor.

But five seconds later he could not remember why he had been chuckling.

Jane Ann looked across the street at the Cleveland house. The family had gathered on the front yard, staring at her house. The five of them stood in silence, staring. She turned to look at the mist of Balon.

"Why are they waiting?"

"For instruction," Balon projected.

"From Satan?"

"Yes."

"The others will be all right, Sam? Those at Miles's house?"

"Yes. The golem will protect them. But they will have to help. And they will."

"The golem can't be destroyed?"

"Not by a mortal. Not this one."

"Only by God?"

"Yes."

"How is that possible?"

"The golem is earth. He is air. He is water. God made all those things. How is it possible to destroy something that God made without His permission?"

"We seem to be doing quite well with pollution and nuclear proliferation."

"The answer is contained within your statement."

"I … see."

"No, you don't. But you will."

"I'll have to be very strong, won't I?"

"Stronger than you have ever been before. The Prince of Filth will test your faith. He will tell you he will stop the pain, the degradation, the humiliation … if only you will renounce your faith in God. And he will not be lying."

"It will be terribly painful, won't it, Sam?"

"I cannot lie. Yes." ,

"But others have endured it."

"Yes. And so shall you."

Jane Ann folded her arms under her breasts and turned her attentions to the street. A crowd had gathered, with the Cleveland family leading the rabble. "They're coming."

"Yes."

"What must I do?"

"Let them attempt to take you."

"And then?"

"They will discover the awesome power of the Almighty."

"Through you?"

"Yes."

"He could stop all this, couldn't He?"

"With one gesture of His hand."

"Then why doesn't He?"

"Humankind must find their own way, Janey. He gave them a brain, the power to think, to reason. And He gave them compassion, if they will but use it. He gave them everything … all things to create a world of good. It is up to humankind to decide which path they will take."

"Hey, bitch!" the harsh voice rang from the yard. "I got about nine inches of cock I'd like to shove up your ass just to listen to you holler."

Jane Ann looked for the mist of Balon. But the mist was gone. She almost went into a panic. Then she saw the tentacles of vapor hovering over the Bible. The mist seemed to be drawing strength from the Word of God.

"Hey, Janey!" Tony's voice rang out. "How about comin' out here and givin' some of that good pussy to my buddies?"

"How can one man change so?" Jane Ann muttered.

"Very easily," Balon projected. "The Dark One offers much to those who are less to begin with."

"A caste system in Heaven? Really, Sam!"

"Step out on the porch, Janey," Balon told her. "Let them see you are not afraid."

"But I am afraid."

"You are afraid of what awaits you at the end, not of what confronts you now."

Jane Ann opened the door and stepped onto the porch. She looked at Steve Cleveland. "What do you want, Steve?"

"Some of your pussy, baby," he said, and stepped forward, reaching for her arm.

Steve recoiled backward, his face on fire, the bubbling and popping of burning flesh filling the late afternoon air. He began screaming, running from the house, dashing into the road, where he tripped on the curb and fell into the gutter, to lay screaming out his life as the fire intensified, his head engulfed in flames.

"You like the fire of your Master?" Balon's heavy voice cut through the afternoon. "Then enjoy it. Here … let me introduce you to God's power."

A woman erupted in flames, her body seeming to explode. A man standing beside her suddenly found his feet on fire, the flames spreading upward, engulfing him. The man and woman ran blindly down the sidewalk, howling in pain. They fell heavily, beating their feet on the concrete as they felt the pain of their brains cooking. Their wails soon diminished into low moans as life began to leave them. Steve Cleveland had already passed into the misty veil, slipping through, the wind sighing as he met his Dark Master's world.