Noah stood up. 'Let me say something at this juncture, people.' The group looked at him. 'I know you all must think I look and sometimes behave ridiculously. But let me tell you all: I hold belts in both karate and judo, and I am a crack shot with rifle, pistol, and shotgun. Do not think for one instant I cannot or will not stand firm.'
Sam stood up, towering over the smaller man. 'I don't think that at all, Noah,' he said. 'You can watch my back for me anytime.'
Noah said, 'Let's go have a look around town, Sam.'
They drove first to Jon's house, parking in front of the home. A party was in progress. Loud music and wild young laughter spilled from the home. The music was almost unbearable. Noah glanced at Sam and shook his head in disgust. 'He gets word that his parents are killed and the punk has a party. I think we are wasting our time by visiting young Mr. Le Moyne, Sam.'
'Yeah, I agree with you. But I said I'd try. So let's give it a go. You game?'
'Lead on, D'Artagnan.'
The two men walked up the sidewalk to the house. Sam was thinking: The man may be small, and he might look odd, to our way of thinking in terms of dress, but he's sure got some brass on his ass.
Before the men got halfway up the sidewalk, the front door opened and young people spilled out, forming a half circle around the two men.
'If trouble starts,' Noah said, 'I'll take the punks to Jon's right, you take those to the left.'
'Done,' Sam said, not taking his eyes off Jon Le Moyne. The young man's eyes were both defiant and sullen. 'Your uncle is very worried about you, Jon.'
'Fuck my uncle!' Jon spat the words. 'No,' he said with an ugly smile. 'I'll leave that to Noah. Tell me something, Noah. With you and my good uncle, who was the fuckee and who was the fuckor?'
'You have an exceedingly filthy mouth, young man,' Noah admonished the young man. 'Whatever happened between Father Le Moyne and myself—and it was not what you are implying—is ancient history. And it is certainly none of your concern, you shitty little twit!'
Noah's words were greeted by hoots and shouts of dirty laughter. One young man, no more than fifteen years old, unzipped his jeans and pulled out his penis. 'Here, little man,' he called to Noah. 'You like to suck cocks so much, come over here and suck on this.'
'They have it all twisted out of shape,' Noah said, his words reaching only Sam's ears. 'No one ever understands, or tries to understand.'
'Your friends do, Noah,' Sam told him. 'And that is all that matters. Screw all the others.'
'Look on the porch!' Noah whispered.
Sam lifted his eyes. A dark shape flitted back and forth on the glass-enclosed porch. It was not human, but yet somehow more than animal. Even cloaked in darkness, the shape appeared hideously deformed. Evil emanated from it.
'What in the name of God is that horrible-looking thing?' Sam blurted hoarsely.
Jon wheeled around, as did most of the young people at the front of the semicircle facing the two men. Jon looked back at Sam. 'What's what? I don't see anything.'
'It's the Dark One,' Noah's whisper was just as hoarsely uttered as Sam's question. 'For our eyes only. Few can witness him in his true shape, for to do so means almost certain death. I was one of the very few who ever saw him and lived to speak of it.'
'He's taunting us?'
'Yes. Do not look directly at him,' Noah warned him. 'If you meet his eyes you will be harmed.'
'Thanks for telling me,' Sam muttered. He raised his voice. 'One last time, Jon. And this is your last chance. Come with us.'
The young man grinned and scratched his crotch. 'Your wife had real good pussy, Balon. And she said she never had a cock like mine before. She liked it so much she licked on it like it was an ice cream cone. I was going to give it to her up the ass. But that can wait for a later date. We have the time.'
Sam held his temper in check. 'Jon, pleasures of the flesh are not worth losing your soul over. Think about it. For if you don't come with us now, there will not be another chance for you.'
'Eternal life has been promised to us all,' Jon said. 'And it has been promised that we shall see you grovel and beg for mercy from our Master. I look forward to that, Balon.' Jon began laughing.
Sam cut the laughing short by stepping forward and slugging the young man, knocking him sprawling on his butt. Just as the young man's friends closed in, Sam jerked the .41 mag from his belt and shoved the muzzle in a young man's face. The cocking of the big pistol was loud in the sudden silence.
Noah pulled his .357 and jacked back the hammer. He looked as if he would enjoy using it.
The young man with the pistol barrel under his chin paled, but did not back up.
'I'll blow you straight to hell, boy,' Sam said, in a low menacing voice.
'So there'll be another time, Balon,' Jon said, as he moaned on the ground. His mouth was bloody from Sam's fist. 'No rush. We have all the time we need.'
'Start backing up,' Sam told Noah. 'Slow and easy does it.'
The men backed up, slowly edging toward Sam's pickup. Noah stood guard until Sam was in the Chevy and had the motor running. The young people had followed the pair, always keeping at a safe distance.
Claude Sullivan said, 'I think we'll give you to the Beasts, Noah.' He laughed. 'That ought to be fun, watching them have your ass.'
