The Devil's Heart (31 page)

As Falcon began another incantation, the sky was suddenly filled with bats, hundreds of them, their excrement falling to the ground with soft plops. The ground around the circle wriggled with rats, their red eyes reflecting dully in the torchlight and the strange coloration of the sky.

"Hear me, 0 Lord of Filth. Hear my cries, 0 Prince of Darkness. Hold us close to your chest, Apollyon. Let us taste more of your foulness; touch us with your lips; let us hear the sounds of your cloven hooves. For we, to a soul, are yours. Send the forces of all that is evil to aid us. Send the serpents and the demons, the denied and the defiled. Come to us, little people!"

And as if Merlin had suddenly waved his wand, the ground around the altar was filled with satanic imps, dancing and leaping and laughing wickedly.

The wind picked up, slamming its strength and coldness over the land, blowing first cold, then hot, confusing the elements. Falcon's voice grew stronger, ringing over the night-draped, red-tinged, evil-enveloped countryside.

"Asmodeus! Belial! Beelzebub! Mephistopheles! We who serve you implore you to rip away the veil and send all the forces to us. We are in need of the help only you can send. We stand in awe of your majestic power, Great One, and pray through the blackness you hear our cries."

Falcon turned, signaling for the second girl to be brought to the altar. She was dragged, screaming, to the dark flat stone, her clothing ripped from her, exposing her nakedness to the cold-hot winds and the hungry eyes of the worshipers of filth. Her breasts had just begun to bud, and only the lightness of down touched her apex. The dead girl, pale and bloodless, ghostly white, was rudely tossed to the ground. A Beast ran forward, grabbed the girl, and raced back to the outer circle. There, she was devoured, the flesh stripped from her, stuffed into drooling mouths.

The screaming girl, no more than a child, was positioned on the altar, legs spread wide apart. Falcon leaped upon the altar, lifting his robe, exposing his maleness, jutting and throbbing with power.

"For you, Master," Falcon said. "Only for you." He positioned himself and hunched savagely.

The girl's wailing echoed around the stones and the barren earth as Falcon split her, blood leaking from her torn vagina. Falcon pushed deeper.

"It's cold," the girl shrieked. "Cold! God—help me!"

Members of the Dark Coven laughed at her pitiful cries for help, shouting profanities and blasphemies at her, their hooting and laughing sullying the red night.

The laughter and the cursing increased with each lunge from Falcon, each push that brought wails of pain from the child. Th« flickering flames from the torches seemed to join and mingle with the bloody red of the sky.

Sam then noticed the third girl. She had gradually slipped back from the men who had brought her, moving no more than an inch or two each time. They had not noticed her, all their attentions riveted on the scene of rape and defilement on the now bloody altar.

"She's going to make a break for it," Sam muttered. "I'll bet you that's Janet. I've got to help her."

"Sam … !" Nydia protested.

"No. It's something I have to do. She's suffered enough."

The look in Linda's eyes was strange: a mixture of loathing and respect.

"I'm going down to that second ridge," Sam pointed, checking the Thompson. The full drum was fitted in the belly of the SMG, the canvas pouch filled with clips on Sam's belt. He turned to look at Nydia.

"I will be back," he said.

"I know," she said, then stood and watched him slowly make his way down the gently sloping hill until he was lost from view, the red darkness swallowing him.

The circle of dancers pushed forward as Falcon began his climax, withdrew, and stepped from the altar, wiping his bloody penis on the rag that was once the young girl's shirt. Janet did not move with the crowd, staying in place, half hidden just outside the limit of the torchlight.

A huge wooden cross was carried to the altar, driven upside down behind the dark and bloodied stone. The girl was jerked from the altar and dragged to the cross. Strong hands held her upside down as hammers and spikes began their gruesome work. Her screaming as she was crucified seemed to fill the small valley. She was left hanging upside down, spikes in her hands and feet, to wail out what life was left in her.

But it was not yet over for the girl. They would return to her one more time.

"Send us the demons!" Falcon said, his voice carrying full and strong. "Send them, 0, Great One."

The sky became entirely red, its bloody hues casting dark shadows over the grounds. The rats and bats ceased their scurrying and flapping, the imps were silent, and the only sound to be heard was the moaning of the girl behind the altar. Nailed to a cross.

Janet slipped deeper into the shadows. She looked toward the ridge where she had seen a flash of light reflecting off metal. She moved toward the high ground, moving slowly, attracting no attention.

Sam waited.

Linda moved up silently behind Nydia, her fists balled.

"Now!" Falcon screamed the one-word plea.

"Now!" the crowded circle, one massed ring of evil, echoed.

The sky seemed to split wide open. Great stinking clouds of evil-smelling gas settled over the estate of the Devil. Janet edged deeper into the dark red of false night, moving faster now, her youth giving added strength to her legs.

Great grotesque creatures filled the sky: two-headed amphisbaena were flung out of the gaseous mist; reptilian basilisks coiled and hissed and rolled to earth; winged, clawed griffins flapped and settled on the ground, fire and filth snorting from the demon head; the deformed and monstrous su, with its feathered tail and horned head suddenly appeared around the circle, its mighty claws digging into the ground; the gulon, a creature so hideous as to be indescribable howled as it came to earth from behind the hot curtain of Hell; the clawed, many-headed hydra came to rest on earth, its hideousness only slightly less than the Great Rukh that beat its way to earth, its feathers still smoking from the pits; the owls and ravens and centaurs and satyrs and hyenas joined the now crowded circle, all gathering around the cross where the girl hung in torment, spikes holding her upside down, the blood leaking from the wounds, dripping into her eyes.

"Black!" Falcon called. "Come. It is time for the final act."

The young man stepped forward, a sadistic gleam in his eyes, a sharp curved knife in his hands. The girl began wailing as the blade cut strips of flesh from her body, cutting tracings of vulgar images in her skin. Black chanted as he worked, with Falcon beside him, calling on all the dark forces of the netherworld. The rite, as old as this world, was finally concluded. Then, with no thought of mercy, Black cut out the girl's heart and he and Falcon ate the still trembling muscle.

The warrior was near, watching, trembling with dark rage and hate swelling within him. But the mighty warrior from the firmament was powerless to interfere. He had to turn away from the bloody scene of sacrilege, for his eyes and thoughts could kill … and as much as he wanted to do just that ... it was not his place to do so.

Yet.

Janet lay beside Sam on the ridge overlooking the scene of outrage. Sam had fought back the temptation to raise the Thompson and blow the Devil worshipers back to Hell. But the range was far too great, and besides, he knew it was not yet time for that. He would have to wait.

"Come on," he whispered to the girl. "Let's go." "Are we going to be all right?" Janet asked. "I'm … kind of hurt from what they did to me, you know?"

"I think we're going to make it," Sam took her small hand in his. "Come on."

On the far ridge, Nydia turned just as Linda's hands reached for her. Their eyes met. "I know what you are," she said. "And I'll knock the shit out of you if you try it."

Sam had led them several miles from the site of depravity, camping deep in the thick timber. They had slept in sleeping bags, on ground sheets, no canvas over them. Sam had sensed there had been trouble between Nydia and Linda, but when he asked Nydia about it, she would merely shrug.

When Janet had learned of Nydia's true identity, she shrank back from her, not wanting the daughter of Roma to touch her … and for some reason, unexplained, Linda did not want to go near Janet.

Sam lost his temper. "What in the hell is wrong with you?" he asked Linda. "Do you realize this kid has been through hell, literally? Damnit, she doesn't have some … social disease."

Linda didn't back away from the angry young man. "And have you considered this: she may be one of them."

"You're crazy!" the young girl cried. "Do you have any idea what they did to me? What it was like?"

Linda shuddered and for some unexplained reason moaned softly.

"… I'm still bleeding from what they did to me. What's wrong with you: are
you
one of them?"

"How dare you!" Linda drew back her hand to slap the child. Sam's quick hand stopped the blow. Janet darted behind him, peeking around his waist. She stuck out her tongue at the older woman and made a horrible face at her.

Nydia laughed at the girl's antics.

"None of that, Linda," Sam warned her. "I won't have it."

Linda spun around and stalked away, back to her bedroll. Sam turned, putting his arm around the child. "I think I can understand how you feel about Nydia, honey, but you're wrong about her. Flat out wrong." Then he told her what Roma had done to him, and what Falcon had done to Nydia. The girl could only shake her head in horror.

"Where did those other girls come from?" Sam asked.

"One from Montreal, the other from New York. They grabbed me in Montpelier. I was on my way to school." She looked at Linda, sitting with her face averted, a pout to her lips. "I'd like to slap her. She doesn't know what it was like … back there. And I hope to God I'll be able to someday forget it." She looked up at Sam, tall and strong.

"We'll get out," he assured her. "Go on to Nydia, now."

The child smiled, the first time since joining the group. "Can't I wait just a little bit longer before I do? I mean, Roma is her mother, and Roma watched some while that Karl was … doing it to me. I mean … she even came to us once and … and held his … thing. She did something to make him … ready. Then she laughed while he … put it in me. I just can't go to your friend now. Please understand."

Sam could sense the child was very close to tears. "Okay." he said gently. "Sure. Want to stay with me for a time?"

She hesitantly put her slender arms around his waist. She looked very much like a ragamuffin, for she had been half naked when she slipped away from the circle of worshipers. She was not a large child, and Nydia's shirt was far too large, as were the jeans from Nydia. The jacket sleeves were rolled and pinned back, the hip-length coat hanging past the child's knees. "Yes," she looked at him through soft eyes, "I think I'd like that."

"My time is growing short, darling," Jane Ann spoke her thoughts aloud.

"I will be with you all I am allowed to be," Balon projected his reply.

"Even … there?" She tilted her head, indicating the outside.

"Especially there. But I am not permitted to be with you constantly."

She did not ask why that was. "It will not be easy for you, will it, Sam? Watching me, I mean."

"Not easy."

"I … will try to be brave."

"They will want you to scream, to beg for mercy, to weep."

"I will not give them the satisfaction."

There was no response from Balon.

"Sam?"

"I'm here."

"Should I?"

"Should you what?"

"Scream, beg, cry?"

"I cannot answer that. That is your decision alone."

"Was my sin so great thai I must endure this?" "Perhaps, Jane Ann, sin has nothing to do with it. Have you thought of that?"

"I don't understand."

"Millions of people, for thousands of years, have died for God. Do you think all of them were hopeless sinners? Beyond saving?"

"But didn't most of them die because of their belief in God?"

"Not necessarily. Many of them died because of their strength."

"Sam! You're speaking in riddles."

"No, I'm not."

Jane Ann was thoughtful for a moment. "Strength? Are you saying that . . . because I'm the youngest of the … survivors I am better able to endure the pain and humiliation of what lies just ahead of me? If so, I still do not understand why it has to be."

The mist that was Balon was steady, with no thrusting reply.

"All right. But tell me this, if you can: part of … this does have something to do with sin—right or wrong?"

"In part."

"Whose sins?"

"Yours, mine … others."

Her last question was asked softly, and it was filled with love. "Why do I get this feeling I am dying partly for you, Sam?"

The mist could not lie. It stirred, then projected: "Because you are."

Jane Ann smiled. "Then my dying will be so much easier."

"Let me tell you something, Janey. This does not have to be. You, Wade, Miles, Anita, Doris … all are assured a place in Heaven."

"I know that, Sam Balon."

"Then … ?"

"I love you."

"Sam?" Nydia spoke from the rear of the short column, "How far are we from the main house?" "Five or six miles, I'd guess."

"You said we would encounter boundaries. Where are they?"

"Honey," there was an edge to his voice. "I don't know. We'll know them when we see them."

"I'm tired," Janet said. "And I'm hurting real bad." Linda looked at her, a strange light in her eyes. Then unexpected, she walked to the child's side and put her arms around her. Janet smiled up at her.

"We're all tired and edgy," Nydia said. "Let's take a short break, Sam."

But the rest was to be a very short one. Sam had just eased out of the straps of his heavy pack when he heard a sound to his left, slightly behind him. He tensed, thumbing the Thompson off safety. He spun, throwing himself to one side, coming up on one knee, the SMG leveled, on full auto.