The Devil's Heart

Jane Ann sighed. 'I will endure it.'

'Yes,' the thought pushed into her brain. 'And so must I.'

SEVEN

'They're leaving,' Roma said to Falcon. 'Heading into the east woods.' She swore, a venomous string of profanities. 'It is difficult for me to believe I have birthed a Christian. It's disgusting! Where did we fail, Falcon?'

He laughed. 'We didn't, Roma. Put such thoughts aside. Balon interfered, that's all. His seed must have been strong.'

'Like a hot river.'

'You still remember?'

'I shall never forget it. I mounted him a half dozen times before he lost the battle and I could keep him inside me.

'Tell me, Roma: Did you cheat?'

She seemed astonished he would even ask such a foolish question. 'Of course!'

'Then there is the answer to your question, and many more unasked questions. Why Black is deceitful and plotting, for one. Balon's seeds were many. Pure and strong, with most of them forming Nydia. Black is weak and scheming. Weak in many areas; I've known that for years. We must not lean too heavily upon him. You know, of course, he cheated taking his difficult military training?'

She whirled about, her face flushed. 'He swore to me he would not.'

'But he did. I wanted to tell you … wanted to see how that deception affected him. I will tell you this, and you know I am a warrior: Black will be no match for young Sam. I … sensed something else, as well, Roma: the young man has killed, and not just in the heat of open battle. I sense … he has killed, once, at least, probably several times, on orders from his government.'

'Covertly and cold-bloodedly?'

'Yes.'

'When you were able to see his thoughts, study his innermost character, how had the killing affected him?'

Falcon paused, lighting his pipe, sending billowing clouds of fragrant smoke swirling about him. The silence only heightened the moment. 'Not at all,' he finally said. 'The young man is a true warrior. And you know how He,' Falcon cast his eyes upward, 'feels about warriors.'

'Young Sam is his father's son.' Roma smiled.

'Entirely.'

Her smile grew wicked.

Falcon read her thoughts. 'Roma … ?'

She met his eyes, dark evil gazing into dark evil. 'Yes, Falcon?'

'It's too dangerous. You're much too old for that nonsense. Birthing the twins almost killed you. Or have you forgotten?'

'No, but I failed with them. And now—if your deductions are correct, and I believe they are—I know why. It would not be that way with young Sam.'

'You would not cheat? You, my dear?' He chuckled. 'Anyway, Roma, it's out of the question for a number of reasons, paramount among them the fact young Sam is in love with his half sister, and she with him. They're practically nauseating with it. Besides, I forbid you to take the chance.' He turned his head, smiling as he spoke the last, knowing what her reaction would be. He was not disappointed.

She gave him a look that would have stopped a runaway truck dead in the road. 'You FORBID it!' she screamed at him. 'Forbid! You do not forbid me to do a fucking thing!'

Falcon sighed. 'And I worked so hard improving your vocabulary, taking it from the gutter. Now you revert.'

'Forbid me! Are you forgetting who is in command here?'

'Not at all, my dear. Calm yourself. I was merely attempting to be practical about this matter. Roma, consider the risk factor. One: even should you seduce the young man without cheating, having a demon child would kill you. That is written. Secondly: the Master would surely void your plan. Oh, Roma … go fuck the young man, any way you can, and get it out of—or in your case—into your system. Then forget it. We have matters of much greater urgency here.'

She whirled and stalked from the room, cursing under her breath. Falcon watched her leave, slamming the door. He stood and slowly shook his head. A pity, he thought, to be so obsessed by the memory of Balon. She fell in love with a Man of God.

He shuddered at the thought. How degrading!

'They stopped watching us,' Nydia said. 'I could feel her eyes when they left me. They're planning something, Sam.'

'Sure they are. Evil. I just wish I knew what I—we—are supposed to do about it. Do I have a free hand? I don't know. Nydia? I … we're stumbling around in the dark with this thing. I don't know what to do. Yes, all right, my dad appeared and wrote me a letter. I've convinced myself we didn't dream it. A sign of the cross is burned—burned— into my chest. Okay, I'll accept that I've been chosen … but, damn it, honey … chosen to do what? I have to assume that I am to follow in my dad's footsteps; do what he did back in Whitfield in the fifties.' He stopped at the