The book had opened to the General Epistle of James, and it seemed at first to be an odd place to begin. But as Sam read, a smile came to his lips as the text began unfolding on the source of temptation. Gradually, Nydia's breathing slowed and she rose from the bed and dressed, asking Sam to reread that passage about temptation. He did, and felt the room suddenly clear of all that is dark and foul and evil.
'It's over,' Nydia said. 'I can feel it, can't you?'
'Yes.' Sam closed the Bible.
'I suppose we can expect more of the same?'
'Until Thursday night, at least.'
She looked at him.
'That's when it'll really get rough,' he explained.
She glanced at the still ajar bedroom door. 'Linda didn't wake up, and we got pretty loud.'
Sam shrugged it off. 'She's probably a sound sleeper.'
Nydia chose not to reply.
The young screaming began in the dark, evil depths of the mansion.
With the lighting in the room reduced to several flickering candles, and the fireplace popping and crackling, Lana held out her glass for a refill. Her third. 'I've never tasted brandy like this. It's so good and smooth.'
'It's rather expensive,' Falcon admitted, tilting the decanter, filling her snifter past the point a brandy connoisseur would go.
'I like expensive things,' she said, licking her lips.
'Oh?' Falcon arched an eyebrow expressively, the roguish gesture speaking volumes of understanding garnered through centuries of inamorata.
'Yes. I think I'll look for a rich man.'
'I wish you success in your quest. You're speaking in terms of marriage, of course?'
She shrugged. 'Not necessarily. I have a lot to offer the right man.'
'Your beauty, of course. And your intelligence.'
'And my virginity.'
Falcon chuckled unbelievingly.
'You don't believe me?'
'I didn't mean that, my dear. It's just that in this day of sexual promiscuity, a virgin would be a priceless item.'
'Well … I am,' she said, pouting playfully.
The brandy was taking its toll on the young woman, loosening her tongue, lessening any inhibitions she may have had. 'I like older men,' she said flatly. 'Guys my own age are so dumb. All they want to talk about is how fast their stupid cars will run, or how bad they are. I think guys my own age are really gross.'
Falcon sat beside her on the leather couch. 'Well, I am certainly glad I am beyond that adolescent silliness of having to prove how macho I am to young ladies who really don't care.'
'Oh, lots of girls like that shit.'
Falcon winced.
'Did I say something?'
He made his move. 'Well … if I am to keep you in pretty clothes, expensive automobiles, and a purse full of money, I think I'd better work on your grammar, as well.'
'You're going to do all that for me?'
'Would you like that?'
'What do I have to do to earn it?'
He looked at her with his unreadable eyes, dark and hooded. 'Only that which is usually required in any arrangement of that type.'
'And that is?'
'You tell me, dear.'
The gold digger in her sprang to the surface. 'I don't mean to be crude, I really don't, but I'd want it in writing.'
'Then you shall certainly have it, darling.'
'Just like that?'
'Oui.'
'I don't speak much French. You'll have to teach me.'
'I shall teach you many things, darling. Be assured of that.'
'Why me, Falcon? You could have your choice of half the women in the world. I'm just a nineteen-year-old kid.'
