The Devil's Touch

Those gray eyes once again touched him. Very intimately, Sam felt. He had heard all about these French women. He wondered if all or part of it was true.

'Won't your wife object? I can see you're wearing a wedding band.'

Forces battled inside his head. The darker force soon became victorious. 'No,' Sam heard himself say. 'Nydia won't mind.' Hell, why should she? She's out doing … something. Then the gossip came to him. Maybe she's doing it with somebody. The gossip. Where had he heard it? He couldn't recall. But it was something about his wife and that young Le Moyne boy. Sam could not know that Janet had planted the thought in his mind while he was making love to the teenager. Sam had heard all the stories about young Le Moyne and his being so well-endowed that about half the women in Logandale were panting after him. But Jon, or so the story went, was supposed to be so religious.

Hell, Sam thought, if he's any better endowed than I am, he's doing very well for himself.

So religious, the ugly thoughts once more entered the mind of the young man. Maybe he covers up the Bible when he fucks.

Sam hid a chuckle at the obscene thought. The sensing of evil from the Giddon House had left him. He did not know the reason for that was because he was so close to the evil, the good in him was outweighed when the darker forces were worked so intensely.

'In that case,' Desiree said, 'I would like to take a ride with you.' She got in the truck and Sam pulled back onto the road. She said, 'I haven't made any friends here in Logandale yet. It's—rather lonesome.' She looked at the big .41 mag on the front seat, between them. She said nothing about it. But her eyes lingered long on the weapon.

'You won't be lonesome very long,' Sam assured her. He smiled 'Not after the men around here get a look at you, bet on it.'

Desiree returned the smile. 'You're very kind. I thank you for the compliment, Sam. But I don't date very much.'

'Oh?'

'Yes. I find that men all have the same thing on their mind. I am not opposed to a man/woman relationship, but I would rather be the one doing the choosing. Do you find that odd, Sam?'

'No, not at all. I can understand that.' He cut his eyes at her, thinking: So choose me and let's get it on, honey.

He shook his head, not understanding his thoughts lately.

Sam did not see Nydia pulling up to an intersection. He did not see her look of shock at seeing her husband with another woman. He was through the intersection before he pulled his eyes back to the road.

Nydia watched them drive past, heading out into the country. Black rage filled her, compounded—although Nydia, like Sam, did not realize the powers of the Dark One were responsible for it. Nydia was so angry she was trembling. She did not know who the young woman was, catching only a quick glimpse of her. But from Sam's description of Desiree Lemieux, and since they were coming from the direction of Fox Estate, Nydia was sure it was Desiree.

'You bastard!' Nydia cursed her husband. She gripped the steering wheel so hard her fingers ached. She forced herself into calmness. 'All right,' she muttered through clenched teeth. 'That's just dandy. If that's the way he wants to behave, that's just fine with me.'

'That's right,' that whispering voice entered her mind. 'He screws the teenager last night, the Frenchwoman today. And you sit about and mope. It doesn't have to be that way. You know where to go. He is waiting for you. Young, virile, handsome. Think what a coup it would be for you to teach a handsome young man all about sex; all the marvels of a man and a woman.'

Nydia sat frozen at the intersection.

'Go on,' the voice whispered. 'Go on.'

The voice faded from her mind. She returned to reality. She remembered nothing of the whispering voice. But her subconscious did. She turned toward town. Toward the street where Jon Le Moyne lived. She followed dark silent directions as her anger grew.

Janet sat in her room, looking at Little Sam playing on the floor. He looked up at her, an unfamiliar light in his eyes.

Janet stared at him. Something was odd about the boy. Something she did not understand. He suddenly looked mean, almost vicious.

As quickly as the strange look appeared on the boy's face, it was gone. The child returned to its play.

'Odd,' Janet murmured. 'Very odd. Could it be that he is one of us?'

But no messages came to her. Nothing whispered in her head. No winds blew, containing any sign from her Master. Nothing.

She continued watching the little boy at play. She was restless, desiring some action. She wanted a man. Last night had only whetted her appetite. But she had her orders from the Master. And she knew she must obey. She was pacified with the knowledge that soon— very soon, hours, perhaps—she could be satisfied sexually by all the men she desired. Including, hopefully, Sam Balon … again.

As he drove, Sam wondered how Desiree could be so unconcerned. How she could not somehow sense … something strange going on in the town. And then all that was swept from his mind. He could not remember what he had been thinking of.

Then he remembered it was a Sunday and he asked, 'Are you a Catholic, Desiree?'

'I am nothing,' she replied. 'Agnostic, if anything. My—parents,' she seemed to stumble over that word, 'do not attend church, so therefore I was not brought up in one.'

'My father was a minister.'