happening to him; why was this happening? Up until only a few months ago, his thoughts had been almost pure in content.
It was then Jon began experiencing dreams of a highly erotic nature. Then the high school junior had seen the woman in his dreams, and she had haunted his thoughts ever since. It was, Jon thought, almost as if he were possessed.
He gripped his erection harder and began stroking himself.
Desiree Lemieux looked out over the dark grounds of Fox Estate. She smiled at some inner thought. Sam Balon entered her mind and she felt the heat build within her virgin body.
She turned at the sound of footsteps. She relaxed. It was only the groundskeeper, Jimmy Perkins.
'Yes, Perkins?'
'Forgive, mistress,' the man said, his eyes dull as they swept over the young woman's lushness. 'You sent for me?'
'My mother and father would be very disappointed with the condition of these grounds, Perkins. This afternoon I saw a tangle of brush and undergrowth on the east side of the property. Why has that been permitted to grow?'
Fuck your mother and father, Perkins thought, his dull eyes revealing none of the evil within the man. And fuck the horse they rode in on, too. I know all about your mother and father; know exactly who they are. 'It is an unsafe place, mistress. That is the eastern border of the estate. It meets the estate of Mr. Norman Giddon.'
'I know all that,' Desiree said irritably. 'Why should it be unsafe for
'Hollow places in the ground, mistress. With only a thin covering of earth over them. Caves in there that run to the river over there.' He pointed with a finger. 'It is not safe. That is why the underbrush and thickets are allowed to grow; to discourage intruders.'
'All right, Perkins. That will be all.'
'Yes, mistress.' He shuffled away. He wore an evil smile on his thick wet lips. Mademoiselle Lemieux may be the mistress of Fox Estate, and she might be in favor in the eyes of important people, but Jimmy knew who she was. And he knew she could not really hurt him. He had been around for too long. He had been privy to much information since joining the ranks of the undead more than a quarter of a century back, in Whitfield. He had adored the Devil's agent, Black Wilder, and thought the true Nydia a goddess. This young woman was supposed to be so important in the scheme of things, but she did not impress Jimmy, Not at all.
TWO
Father Daniel Le Moyne stepped from his small living quarters and looked toward the lights of the small college town. The priest had felt an ancient stirring rise from deep within him. He knew what it was. He had experienced it before. And it scared him. He did not know if he could cope with this again. He did not know if he had the strength.
He knew all too well the hand of evil.
He looked at his watch. The LCD flashed eight-ten. He shook his head and walked back toward his quarters. He stopped as the wind whispered around him. The wind rustled the dry leaves on the ground and the starkly naked branches on some of the trees. The wind should have been cool, for this was late October. But the breeze that touched him was hot. And it contained an odor that insulted the priest's nostrils.
Evil, he concluded.
Father Le Moyne shuddered, a cold shaking of both body and spirit.
But not my faith, he thought, and then wondered why he would think that. For nothing had occurred to make him question his faith.
Not lately, the priest amended that thought.
He turned his mind to his nephew, Jon. The boy was battling some inner conflicts, and so far, the priest had not been able to break through to the young man.
Fear touched the priest and he spun around as the sound of heavy, labored breathing reached him. The sound was coming from the side of the church.
The priest walked toward the source of the sound— whatever it, or they, might be. An odor, foul and ugly, reached his nostrils. He wrinkled his nose against the smell.
'Help me,' the voice whispered. The words were very slurred. 'Help me.'
'Who is there?' Father Le Moyne called.
'Help me. For the love of God—help me.' Le Moyne could scarcely make out the words. The voice spoke as if it possessed only half a tongue.
The priest walked toward the whispering. His heart was a dull heavy thudding in his chest. And he knew fear. Knew it on a far more intimate basis than ever before. And he could not understand the fear.
The wind picked up, blowing hotly in the priest's face.
The calling, pleading slurred words continued to reach Le Moyne.
Father Le Moyne stepped into the murky shadows.
A bloody hand reached for him as a scream touched his ears.
Chief of Police Monty Draper drove the streets of the small college town. He could not understand the feelings of … doom, was the word that came to him, that had slipped into his mind just after supper. His face must have registered his thoughts, for his wife had asked him what was wrong.
'Oh, nothing,' he lied to her, and that was something he did not like to do. 'I just remembered some paperwork 1 have to do at the station.'
