When I knew her mother, Roma was not her name. Her name was Nydia. She is of and for the Devil. She is a witch. After the hooved one attempted to take over the town of Whitfield—and failed, then—during which Wade, Anita, Chester, Tony, Jane Ann, Miles, Doris, and myself killed hundreds of Coven members, I made a bargain with our God to save your mother and what few Christians remained. I won, in a sense. But so did the woman you know as Roma. I killed, or at least sent back to Hell, Black Wilder, the Devil's representative. Your half brother, son, Black, is named for Wilder. And like that spawn of Hell, he is a warlock.
When you leave this terminal, the both of you must go to a Catholic church; get as much holy water as you can. You will need it.
I must rest for a moment. Writing is not something one does where I reside.
Sam glanced at Nydia. Half sister? She met his eyes, read his thoughts. 'I don't care.' Sam shook his head in confusion and returned to the letter.
It would be wrong, son, to say the Devil is back, for that one never leaves the earth; so I'll simply say he has returned to Whitfield. There will soon be a great tragedy in Whitfield, and I must be there to help your mother, for her ordeal involves both of us … and the girl. There will be no survivors from Whitfield. None.
'Mother … ?' Sam whispered. And as if Balon had anticipated the question, the letter continued:
She has made her choice. Tony has gone over to the other side. He has done so willingly; indeed, a long time ago. I could not stop him, for his faith is weak, as is his flesh. And that is something you will have to deal with as well.
You have a mission, Sam, and 1 do not envy you your task, for it may destroy you … not necessarily physically, and I can say no more about that. But you are as surely set to this mission as I was, years ago. You will be tempted, and you will fall to some of those temptations, for you are a mortal, blessed, in a manner of speaking, but still a mortal.
A Coven is being established at Falcon House. It is a house of evil, and you must return there. Your job is there. You will not be able to contact anyone in Whitfield. Whitfield is dead; past saving. But your mother will speak to you—in some way—before she slips through the painful darkness to the other side and to peace and blue and light.
We will meet someday, son. I am certain of that and can tell you no more about my surety.
The feelings you and the girl share is something that you both must cope with. I cannot help you, and will not lecture you. But I will say this: the union that produced Nydia was not a holy union. If anything, it was blessed by the Dark One.
'Riddles,' Sam said. 'The letter is filled with riddles, and I don't know what they mean.'
I love you deeply, Sam, and wish I could be of more help to you in your task. But I have said too much already.
Now … I must go. Place the picture of me in the envelope, for that is all of me I can give you that will remain tangible. Put the letter on the table and do not touch it again.
Love, Father
Sam placed the picture in the envelope, the letter on the table. Together, still in mild shock, not knowing what to believe, the young man and young woman watched the pages dissolve into nothing. Then they were alone.
Nydia put her head on Sam's shoulder and wept.
'I have done all I can do to help Sam,' said the silent voice as it pushed out of the mist and into the sleeping brain of Jane Ann.
She sat up on the couch, rubbing her eyes. 'When did you see Sam?'
'About a minute ago, in Montreal.'
'Neat trick, since you're in front of me at this moment. I won't pursue how you managed that.'
'That would be best. You will understand soon enough.'
'A time warp?'
'There is no time in my world. A year is the blink of an eye. Drop it, Janey.'
'All right.' She stared hard at the misty face of the only man she had ever loved. 'Tell me this: how did our son look?'
'Considering the circumstances, well … and confused, upset.' The misty face smiled, then projected, 'bewitched, bothered, and bewildered.'
