* * *
Nydia was the first to notice the slight odor in the room. She lay watching Sam sleep, wanting to cry at his torn and bruised face. Then she noticed the faint odor. It was not unpleasant, not at all; it was … a male odor, she eluded. But not a sexual pungency. It was more a scent of supreme strength, of confidence. And she wondered how that could be, and how she could so easily identify the aroma of it? And she wondered, too, how or why the odor would fill her with an inner calmness, a peace she had not experienced in all her life?
And she knew with only the knowledge that a woman possesses that something else had occurred, but she decided she would keep that a secret for a while longer.
She lay very still, inhaling the strength of the man scent that lingered in the room. But, she frowned, it was more than that … it was, and she hesitated to use the word … almost holy, but yet, she decided, it was not pristine in its consecration: there was a touch of the warrior with it, a tinge of worldliness, as if whatever had left the scent was not only marking territory, but telling those within that region that it knew what they were experiencing … and what they would experience in the days to come.
And Nydia thought it very strange she would know all this.
And there was something else she detected: sadness, Just a very slight trace of that, but there nonetheless. Odd, she thought: I have never been so frightened in my life, but neither have I ever felt so secure in a … what? She struggled for a definition, a word, finally settling on faith.
Yes, she smiled. Faith.
Sam stirred by her side, and she had another thought as she moved close to him, putting one arm across his bare chest, just above the burn that signified the Everlasting Cross on his flesh.
'Sam?' she whispered, her mouth close to his ear.
'Umm?' he stirred, pulling out of sleep, opening his eyes to look at her through eyes of love.
'I have an idea.'
'Now?' his eyes widened.
'Oh, Sam! Not that. I want us to get married.'
It took a moment for that to register with him. He finally cocked his head on the pillow and blinked rapidly several times. 'Say again.'
'You heard me.' She lifted herself up on one elbow and stared down at him, thick strands of long silken hair shading one side of her face.
'Nydia … I mean, how? Who would perform the ceremony? I really doubt we could leave this house … or at least the immediate grounds. We'd have to leave …'
She shushed him with a soft kiss. 'They have JPs in your country that marry people; judges and the like. They aren't ministers, so what makes them any better than you?'
'Me! This is weird, Nydia. And certainly illegal.'
'I'm not concerned with moral law, Sam. And I'm really not sure it would be acceptable in the eyes of God— probably not. I just want the words, from you and from me … from out of our hearts. So let's get cleaned up, get dressed, and go into the timber and get married. Now!'
Sam knew, with only the knowledge reasonably intelligent men possess concerning their limited understanding of women, that it would be best not to argue. Just get up and follow orders.
He is pleased,'' Roma spoke to Falcon over coffee in her quarters. 'Our Master said he was most happy with the way matters are proceeding.'
'Are you with child?'
'Yes. I can feel the demon growing.'
'When will you birth?'
'On the sixth day of the sixth week, precisely on the sixth hour.'
'How prophetic. The Mark of the Beast. 666. And your chances, my dear?'
'None. I will die for the Master; the demon will live forever. As Black was meant to be and do. But I failed there.
'I am … admittedly unknowledgeable on such matters; they occur so rarely. How is 'forever' possible?'
'A demon … have you never seen one, Falcon?'
He shook his head. 'Not on earth.'
'… They are of and for the Devil. Protected by him. Only a holy child, born in the same time frame, from the same father can kill the Master's son. And since you battered Nydia's cunt so well, the odds of that happening are infinitesimally minute.'
'The same time frame?' Falcon looked confused.
'666. Day, week, month, or minute.'
'But not necessarily at precisely the same moment as your birthing?'
'That is correct.'
Falcon was thoughtful for a few seconds. 'It is reasonable to assume Balon's boy-child of love coupled with Nydia last night?'
'1 would think so. But your seed is much more powerful, Falcon; older, with the strength of the Master. No … I think she is with a demon child.'
