without any sign of aging, no sagging, no marks of age. She was truly astonishing. Both mother and daughter were absolute, sheer, flawless, physical perfection, and Sam's eyes greedily drank in their beauty whenever he felt it was safe to do so without being obvious. Although several times he got the impression they were both parading for his benefit. Neither Black nor Falcon were poolside, and Sam asked Roma about that while Nydia lapped the pool.
'Oh, they're discussing some … financial matters, I'm sure,' she said, smiling. 'Unearthly as far as I'm concerned. Neither of them care for swimming; they prefer riding or fencing. Both are quite good with the rapier. Do you fence, Sam?'
'No, ma'am.'
She laughed. 'Ma'am? Really, Sam. That makes me feel positively ancient. Roma, please.' She cut her eyes and visually traveled over the young man's body, lingering at his crotch. Yes, she thought, just like his father: amply endowed.
Sam felt he was being mentally raped.
He was.
Sam cleared his throat. 'May I ask a personal question, Roma?'
'You may ask anything you wish, Sam.'
Okay, lady, he thought. How about you and me finding the nearest bed and getting it on?
Then he was aware of a burning sensation in the center of his chest, right where his cross usually lay.
Roma smiled. 'I'm also mildly psychic, young man.'
'Oh, boy,' Sam muttered.
'Really, I'm flattered, Sam. It's quite nice that a handsome young man—certainly young enough to be my son —would desire me.'
'You're not angry with me for thinking that?' Again, that strange burning sensation in the center of his chest.
'Don't be silly. I can't imagine a woman who would be angry.'
'How do you do that? I mean, read people's minds?'
'Was that the personal question you were going to ask?'
'No, ma'am. I mean, Roma.'
'You were going to ask how I managed to stay so young-looking.'
'Damn,' he muttered. 'I'm really going to have to control my thoughts.'
'I was born in Rumania, Sam. A … well, a few years ago,' she laughed. 'I have a mixture of races in me, and my mother was astonishingly beautiful.' (She was, five hundred years ago, when Roma, christened Nydia, was born). 'My mother was over a hundred years old when she died. And still quite attractive.' (And begging for her life while Nydia the Witch bludgeoned her to death, laughing as she did so). 'I really take no special care of my body, other than to exercise daily and watch my diet.'
With that, she rose from the poolside lounger and executed a clean, graceful dive into the water just as her daughter was walking toward them, rubbing her hair with a thick towel. Sam watched her stride toward him: like her mother, ripe perfection. And, like her mother, dressed in a bikini that scarcely covered all the essentials.
'My mother is quite a woman, isn't she?' Nydia asked, sitting down and catching her breath from her laps in the huge pool. Steam rose in light upward exhalations from the heated water.
'At least that, Nydia. I would think Falcon would be extremely jealous of her.'
'Did she come on to you, Sam? Sure, she did,' she said, not giving him time to answer the question. 'Oh, they both do what they want to do. Have their little affairs. I've known about them both for years.'
'Why do I get the feeling you and your mother don't get along?'
'Because it's true. We're civil to each other—most of the time—but we stopped being friends a long time ago.'
'Care to talk about it?'
'Later. Here comes the never-aging sexpot.'
Sam shook his head at the acid in Nydia's remark.
'Nydia's been going to a church,' Black said to Falcon. The men sat in the study, the heavy doors closed.
'I know it, so does Roma. There is nothing we can do about it. For several reasons. But we know He has been meddling.'
'But why? I thought the rules …'
Falcon cut him off with a wave of his hand; a curt slash of impatience. 'The Masters make the rules, each knowing they can break them at will. If, really, any rules do exist, which I more and more doubt. But nevertheless, we are required to follow what our individual Master dictates. And don't ask questions. What goes on in the minds of the two Supreme Beings is beyond the grasp of even us. When are the others arriving?'
'Tomorrow. Noon. I arranged for a helicopter to bring them in.'
'Balon's bastard know of their coming?'
'No. Neither does Nydia.'
Falcon brooded for a time, his dark features unreadable. 'You feel … how many to be ready converts?'
'Ten. Five young men, five young women. The others are for our mutual enjoyment. Two young men, four
