'I never liked people starin' at me,' Joe said, as the men got in the prowl car and pulled out.
'I know the feeling.'
'You going to report this to Sheriff Jenkins, Chief?'
'I don't know what I'm going to do, Joe. Not yet. Tell me what's on your mind.'
'There have been sightings, from time to time, of— well, monsters in this area—'
Monty sighed. 'Joe—'
'No, let me finish, Chief. I moved here with my folks in '43. I was just a kid. I told you that. I was a man grown 'fore I ever heard the stories 'bout the Giddon House and Fox Estate. You know what a coven is, Chief?'
'A Devil's coven?'
'That's the one. Norman Giddon's great-grandfather was supposed to have made a deal with the Devil. In return for riches, the Giddon children were all to be handed over to the Devil. You ever been inside the Giddon place, Chief?'
'No.'
'Neither have I. Rumor has it the place is filled with—well, Satan stuff. Pictures of orgies and sacrifices and crap like that. And most of the sightings of monsters have been around his estate, Fox Estate, and lands he owns out in the country. Several sightings have been reported from near the old orchard, out next to the Balon house.'
That got Monty's attention. 'What? Whose house?'
'That young couple goes to college over at Nelson. The Balon couple.'
'Before I make up my mind on what to do about Will Gibson—for some reason I'm even leary of calling this in— let's take a run over to the Balon house.'
'You're driving.'
Will Gibson crawled from the hole in the orchard. He looked the same as when he entered, with the exception of muddy clothing. He rubbed his hand on his neck. His neck hurt. There were two tiny puncture wounds on the side of his neck. And his head felt … odd. And he found his walk peculiar; more a lurch than a step.
He stopped and looked back toward he hole. Very well, he had found Judith and she was content. So be it. Now Will had things of his own to take care of, matters to attend to. The voices in his head told him that. He shielded his eyes from the sunlight as he lurched from the orchard. He remembered he had left sunglasses in Judith's bedroom. He entered the house, found his dark glasses, and put them on. He felt better then. He smiled and looked at his image in a mirror. His tongue and teeth felt strange. His tongue was swollen and bright red; his cuspids had grown pointed, into fangs. Everything was normal.
He willed his teeth to return to normal shape and size and watched as they did so. Fascinating.
His lurch was beginning to resemble a normal step as he walked to his car. But somehow he knew he would always walk rather oddly. No matter. He could hardly wait for darkness. There was something important he had to do and do it only by night. He didn't know what. Not yet. But he knew it would come to him.
Jon did not want to startle the lovely young woman sitting by the river, reading, so he deliberately back-tracked several hundred yards and then returned, whistling as he walked.
Patsy looked up from her Bible. She smiled as she recognized Jon. Jon was a nice Christian boy—even if he was Catholic. Jon didn't try to hit on her all the time like most of the other boys.
Patsy was a petite brunette with an hourglass figure. And she was a Christian girl without being overbearing and/or obnoxious about it. Patsy did not preach to others about her feelings toward Christ. She just went her own way, within her own small circle of friends— but lately that circle had grown much smaller, and she couldn't understand why—and carefully avoided those whom she felt were not subscribers of the teachings of Jesus Christ.
Jon smiled at her. 'Hi, Patsy. If I'm disturbing you, I'll leave.' The hell I will.
'Not at all, Jon. I'm glad to see you. Would you like to sit down?' She patted the ground beside him.
I'd like to play with your titties. 'Sure.' Jon sat beside her just as that heady hot feeling he had experienced back in his room once more swept over him. He looked at her Bible and felt a feeling of revulsion looking at it. How could anyone read that shit? What a fool he had been all those past years.
She closed her Bible and laid it aside. 'It's so beautiful this time of the year. This is my very favorite season.'
'Mine, too,' Jon lied. He didn't have a favorite season. He just wanted some pussy.
Three months before, that word could not be found in his thoughts, much less in his vocabulary. Now it seemed a natural part of him.
She studied his face. 'Is something troubling you, Jon? Would you like to discuss it with me?'
I'm going to discuss it with you. I'm going to stick some meat to you. 'I know why you're here,' he blurted.
'Oh?' She smiled at him.
'Yeah. So what are we waiting for?'
'Jon—are you all right?'
I'll be fine in about two minutes. 'Look, Patsy, let's just get comfortable and get down to business.'
He reached for her, grabbing her roughly, one hand fumbling at her breasts. She fought away his hands and slapped him across the face.
Jon returned the slap, only much harder. The force of his blow stunned her. She fell limply into his arms.
