himself a poet and painter.'
'My half-brother a poet?'
'Oh, no! Nero!'
The Princess hung her head in penance. 'Forgive me, Father.'
'Oh, stop groveling and get on with matters. And Princess, don't fail me.'
A stinking wind blew through the great house by the river. The candles went out, plunging the room into darkness. The Beasts on the grounds below the mansion shook with fear.
And far away, in the firmament, a star twinkled a bit more brightly than usual.
'I left my wife out of this,' Joe said, after he had been seated in the Draper's den. 'She's not well, and I don't believe she could take anything like this. I don't know whether I'm gonna be able to take it.'
'She's not recovering from her operation?' Monty asked.
'No. The doctors always say they got it all—but they didn't, and Nellie knows it. She's dying little by little. Sad thing to have to watch.'
And the wind that was hovering silently over the Draper house, carrying within it a foul odor, seemed to sigh and say, 'Well, now—how interesting.'
The dark mass disappeared into the night.
Father Le Moyne shivered suddenly. His skin felt clammy, as if something slimy had touched bare flesh. He drew a nervous breath. 'Was I the only one to hear something just then? Outside, I mean.'
'I—thought I heard something,' Monty said.
His wife put her hand in his. 'I heard something too, honey. It sounded like words.'
He looked at her pale face. Lifted his eyes to the others. 'I told her all I knew. I don't think she believed me.'
There was an amused look in the woman's eyes. 'I have a birthday next week. My husband knows 1 like horror books and movies. You people fixed all this up, didn't you? Even got the priest in on it.'
Sam looked at the woman. 'Viv, we have no reason to lie. None of us. But if we don't panic, I think we can beat this.'
Viv laughed. 'Oh, you people! Come on. Monty fixed all this up, admit it. You people have someone outside, whispering, don't you?'
'No, Vivian,' Father Le Moyne said. 'I would have nothing to do with a joke this grotesque. Satan is anything but a joking matter.'
Viv shifted her gaze from person to person, touching all eyes, finally settling on Nydia. She saw only seriousness in those dark gypsy eyes. Joe had seemed tense and upset. Father Le Moyne wore lines of fatigue around his eyes. Monty wore a haunted look.
'It isn't a joke,' Viv whispered. 'You people really believe the Devil is here in Logandale.'
'Believe it, Vivian,' the priest said. 'It is no joke, I assure you of that.'
Viv released her husband's hand. She stood up, and Sam could not help viewing her with a man's appreciative eyes. Viv was tall, almost willowy. Sam had heard she had been a fashion model in New York City. He believed it. Her hair was a golden color, her figure slightly fuller than the average model, with none of the gauntness associated with that profession. She was a woman who could turn men's heads. Sam guessed her age at thirty. She had the trimness and vitality about her of a woman ten years younger.
'I don't believe in the Devil,' Viv said.
'I have a feeling,' Nydia said, looking at the woman, 'that will change during the next few days.'
Viv tossed her golden hair. 'Bull!' she said.
The phone rang. Monty stilled the jangling. He listened for a few moments, acknowledged the call, and hung up. His face registered his shock and disbelief. 'The paramedics who were here this morning, those men who picked up the body of Marie Fowler and who were later found dead,' he spoke to Joe. 'Their bodies have disappeared from Clark County General. And the assistant M.E. is missing.'
'Drop the other shoe, Chief,' Joe said.
'After being shown pictures of the two men, a floor nurse claims she saw the men walking out of the hospital, pushing a gurney with a man—or at least a body—on it. She swears it was the two paramedics. Said they lurched rather than walked, and their eyes were odd.'
Viv gasped once and fainted. Sam got to her before her head banged against the floor.
Nellie Bennett lay on the couch in the den, her eyes looking at but not registering the scenes on the TV screen. She was thinking about Joe. Ol' hard luck Joe, she thought. Had a bad time with his wives. His first wife ran off and left him, taking the kids. Joe had no idea where she was; hadn't seen her or the kids in twenty years. His second wife drops dead of a heart attack right in front of his eyes, playing bridge, and now I'm dying.
Nellie was much younger than Joe, almost fifteen years younger. And before the ravages of cancer began eating on her, she was a very attractive woman. She knew she was and had to smile despite the pain in her stomach. Joe looked like a mournful old hound dog, but he could somehow attract good-looking women. And for a man in his fifties, Joe could still make the mattress jump when the lights went out.
She felt sorry for Joe. She just hadn't felt like sex in more than a year. She wouldn't have blamed him if he'd bedded down another woman. Not at all.
Having thought that, she could swear she heard a voice say something like, 'Ummm.'
She looked around her. No, it had been her imagination.
