'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
