The Devil's Touch

who chuckled with mirth at what was going on.

How dare Sam pull something like that! How could he do it?

She picked up a metal ashtray and hurled it across the room. The ashtray bounced off the wall and hit the floor with a clatter.

'Shit!' she yelled.

Little Sam began crying in his room. His outburst of fright at the sudden noise momentarily calmed Nydia. She went into the bedroom and picked him up, talking to him, soothing him.

'Why is it grown men—responsible men—go ape over a young girl? I wish I knew. I just do not understand it.'

'Ape?' Little Sam said. 'Go to zoo?'

'That's where he belongs,' Nydia said. 'Behind bars for a time. Maybe that would calm him down. The son-of- a—' She caught herself just in time. For Little Sam was very bright and very quick to pick up on words.

She calmed Little Sam and had him laughing by the time she put him on the floor of the den. She sat on the couch and quietly allowed her mood to worsen, not aware of the forces from the nether world influencing her mental machinations, and doing so with dark humor.

So Sam parted the teenage legs of Janet, she darkly mused. I wonder how many women he's screwed since we've been married? One? Ten? More than that? And how many lies has he told me? How many times has he said he was going to the college for research and actually been fucking someone else?

'Bastard!' she whispered.

Yes, the thought came to her. At least ten women. Haven't I seen him flirt more than once, when he thought I wasn't looking? Yes. Yes, I have.

Voices began playing in her head as her mind and abilities to reason became clouded.

'And what about that Flaubert girl? You don't suppose—'

Yes, Nydia thought. Yes. She would be a prime candidate.

'And why do you suppose Sam insisted, when you two were talking about buying a satellite dish, upon having that filthy channel?'

I'm beginning to understand now.

'He's had other women here, hasn't he? Come on, admit it. Those nights you went out with the girls— sometimes several nights a week—did Sam ever object?'

No.

'Don't you find that rather odd?'

I do now.

'And many times, when you were tired and wanted to go to bed, didn't he sit up and watch that fuck film channel?'

Yes.

'It's all adding up, isn't it?'

Reluctantly, she agreed. Yes, it was.

'Would a Christian watch such a channel?'

No. Not the way Sam does.

'Then perhaps—'

The silent voice faded, leaving the rest of it to Nydia's fertile imagination.

Nydia alternately felt like crying, screaming, jumping up and down, and, the thought came screaming into her brain: making it with another man.

Sure, why not? Sam has been sleeping around, so why the hell not? What was that old saying?

'What's good for the goose is good for the gander,' the dark voice whispered obscenely.

She would just, by God, give that some thought; some serious thought.

She gave no thought to what was taking place around her, in the small town of Logandale. All that had been blocked by the dark forces. And they urged her on.

She wrote Sam a short note, telling him that she was going for a drive and might not be back for some time. Little Sam would be at Janet's.

'Let him stew about that for awhile,' she muttered. 'He's probably out screwing somebody right this minute.'

She dressed Little Sam, put a change into a small bag, and locked up the house. Her eyes were flashing angry sparks as she pulled out of the drive and headed into town.

'So Jon Le Moyne and I are having an affair, are we?' she muttered. 'Well, we'll just see about that.'

And the demons and witches and warlocks and creatures who worship the Dark Prince howled with laughter.

Father Le Moyne pulled over to the curb and looked at the pastor of the Methodist church. The man was sitting on the steps of his church, a confused and dejected look on his face.