The Devil's Heart

Sam looked at her in the dim light. The look he gave her was of extreme uncertainty. 'Are you … Nydia, are you saying that Michael is helping me? That he is here?'

'I don't know, Sam. Maybe he isn't here; maybe he doesn't have to be here, yet, to do these things.'

'Yet?'

'Let me finish. Was your father a warrior?'

'A war hero. Yeah, he was a warrior.'

'Who would he most likely make friends with … uh … up there?' She pointed upward.

'Honey, this is getting a little bit farfetched. When was the last time you recall any angels appearing here on earth?'

'Well … how would we know, really? I mean, people might not want to speak of the sighting, right?'

'You have a point. Yeah. For fear of being laughed at. I … seem to recall reading that Michael did appear to help—in some way—with Joan of Arc.'

'All right. Your father had to have appeared to give you that envelope, didn't he? He's in Whitfield right now, isn't he?'

'Yeah. But my father isn't an angel.'

'How do you know that?'

Sam shrugged. 'I don't.'

Before either could say another word, a light tap sounded at the door. Sam sighed heavily and stood up.

'Put away the Bible, Nydia. No sense tempting the gods—from either end of the spectrum.'

He opened the door. Roma stood looking at him, her dark eyes burning with a strange light.

'Mrs. Williams. Excuse me: Roma,' Sam corrected. 'It's late for a social call, isn't it?'

'Oh, I assure you, Sam Balon King. This is no social call.'

He smiled. 'All bets down, the pot's right, and time for the last card, right?'

She laughed. 'Oh, my dear, you are your father's son. Yes, darling, time for a little chat.'

'Between good and evil?'

She shrugged, the movement lifting her breasts, and she noted that Sam noticed. She had changed into a gown of dark blue, floor length, cut low, the V dipping far into the swell of her breasts. 'Good and evil, Sam? Well, perhaps. Tell me: how far have you taken my daughter into the candy-coated world of Christianity?'

'I baptized her.'

Roma grimaced, her nose wrinkling as if she smelled something bad. 'How perfectly disgusting. Before or after you fucked her?''

Sam stood in the doorway. He said nothing.

Roma smiled. 'You Christians—self-proclaimed—really want it both ways, don't you? You want on the one hand to mouth all those heavenly platitudes, but you still want to fuck whenever the mood grips you. Have you eaten her pussy yet, Sam?'

Sam returned her sardonic smile, sensing she was deliberately baiting him, trying to anger him.

She laughed. 'Very good, Sam—I couldn't bait your father, either. Who, by the way, is also Nydia's father. And, of course, the father of Black. Just thought you might like to know that the next time you got an urge to screw.'

'We know,' Sam said.

'Fucking your half sister, Sam? My, my! What does your God have to say about that?'

'I don't know. I haven't asked Him.'

She arched an eyebrow. 'Well … how casual you are. That cosmic gnome you worship might take exception at your flip attitude toward sex.'

'We'll take our chances.'

Then, without explanation, her smile changed to one containing a trace of sadness. 'Believe me, darling … we are all about to do that. I see no reason to stand here in the hallway discussing this. Why don't we behave as civilized human beings,' she laughed aloud at that, 'and adjourn to the den where we can be more comfortable? I assure you, no harm will befall either of you. We do have a great deal to discuss.'

'Mac, Howard, Linda, Judy, Lana?' Nydia spoke from her seat on the edge of the bed.

'They are sleeping soundly. Howard on his stomach, I should imagine. I have no doubt but what you will both rush to their sides upon their waking to tell them the dire news.'

'Isn't Howard one of you now?' Sam asked, and wondered how he knew that.

'Ah … perhaps. Yes. You are a wise one, aren't you? Of course, he is.'

'Then get him out of Mac's room and bunk him somewhere else. Give Mac a chance, at least.'

Roma flushed. 'You, young man, do not order me about.'

Sam slammed the door in her face.