'Me, too. Monty, something just came to me a few minutes ago. We're in a box. There ain't nobody on God's green earth gonna believe any of this even if we was to call for help. Hell! They'd lock us up in the loony bin.'
'I know that, too.'
'1 used to look forward to the night. Meant gettin' off work, goin' home to the wife and dinner. Maybe a few beers and some TV.' He looked around him at the wet gathering darkness. 'I ain't lookin' forward to this night, Chief.'
'Not one word of this, Joe. To anybody. Not a word. We'll firm it all up at my house. Come on. I'll drop you off at your car.'
Janet went to Little Sam's room and stood for a moment, watching the child play with his toys.
Are you or aren't you? She silently questioned. Are you one of us, or one of them? Are you a child of my Master, or are you a whimpering Christian? I wish I knew.
The child looked up at her and grinned.
Janet heard the sound of water running in the bathroom. That would be Sam, taking a shower. She stood for a moment, mentally conjuring pictures of him in the shower, naked. Then other pictures of high sexuality played erotically in her mind. She wanted Sam Balon. Wanted to feel him entering her. She became wet with passion. She fought the pictures away.
Janet again looked at the child. She thought: If it is determined that you are not one of us, but a spawn of them—I am going to kill you.
SEVEN
'Princess,' the young woman was addressed. 'We have word that the Christians are massing. They are few, yes, but Sam Balon's offspring is among them. As well as the turncoat, Nydia.'
The young woman with the long brown hair and pale eyes looked at her servant. She was tall, with a magnificent figure. Very stately and very regal appearing. She was Satan's child. The daughter of the Devil. A demon. She served only the Black Master of evil. Her father: Satan. She had burst forth from her mother's womb in a shower of blood and torn flesh. Roma the witch had died this earthly life giving birth to her. The young woman looked to be about twenty years of age.
By earth time, she was three years old. She had been born on the sixth day of the sixth month, at precisely the sixth minute of Roma's pregnancy. At precisely the exact moment Little Sam was birthed. They were half brother and sister.
But this child was as old as evil—by the hands of the clock that served the Dark One.
'We have the time to delay,' the Princess instructed the gathering at Giddon Estate. 'As much time as is needed. My father has put us on no firm timetable. But this time you shall not fail him. The Christians are no matter. Masses have been held at this place for over a hundred years. And tonight shall be no different. We shall honor my father—your Master, the King of Darkness—tonight.'
'Yes, Princess. As you command.' Professor Frank Gilbert bowed and scurried away.
The lovely young woman smiled in the candlelit gloom of the large room. Her teeth were, for a moment, fanged. She allowed herself the heady pleasure of thinking of Sam Balon for a time. Her mother had left her own images in her demon child: the images of the woman Sam Balon, Sr. knew as Nydia; Sam Balon, Jr. knew as Roma. They were one and the same. The Balons, father and son, were lusty men, well-endowed, and the Princess planned to sample the wares of Sam Balon. And while she was sampling, she would gently introduce Sam into the dark pleasures of her Master. One little bite with her very sharp teeth, and the one obstacle toward her Master's ruling this area would be removed. Then they could move on to greater things. The entire state. The United States. The
'Not too fast, my pretty,' the voice came to her. The room began to stink of hell. The candles flickered as if in fear. Rain lashed the mansion.
'Father,' the Princess said softly.
'It is one thing to be ambitious, dear. Quite another to be foolishly reckless.'
'I did not know—was not aware you were so close.'
'Yes. I came because I am quite sure my old adversary will stick His goody-two-shoes nose into this affair and fuck it all up. As He is prone to do.'
The Princess giggled.
'It is no laughing matter, my pretty,' the heavy voice returned her to sobriety rudely. 'Your mother died this earthly life birthing you; a gift to me. And don't think for a moment that meddlesome old fart up in the firmament wasn't plenty pissed off about your mother seducing Sam. He claimed I broke the rules—not so. I just interpreted them differently, that's all. So we are going to slow the timetable, my precious. We are going to take it nice and easy and slow, and we are not going to rock any boats this time. Do you understand?'
'Yes, Father.'
'As long as you do. Now I am going to have some more fun. It's been entirely too long since I visited this planet personally. And keep your legs together, you horny bitch. You must save your virginity for Sam Balon. In that respect, you are just too goddamned much like your mother. Oh, what a coup it would be if you could birth Balon's child.' The wind picked up as dark laughter howled in the huge room.
When the howling had stopped, the Princess asked, 'And how is Mother?'
'Well. Bitchy, as usual. But that is to be expected of her. She is ruling an upper level on another planet.'
'Black?'
'Which Black?' the voice sounded testy.
'Wilder.'
'Oh. He's doing quite well. He is teaching new recruits. A fine and loyal man. But your idiot half-brother is the most useless, whining, malcontented son-of-a-bitch I have encountered since Nero. And that silly shit still fancies
