'Yes. But my father fought him back in Nebraska, in 1958. That's when Perkins died, and was reborn with the Devil's help.'
'It's just too much for me to believe,' Desiree said, tears streaming down her face. She put her face in her hands and wept. She lifted her face and wiped her eyes with a handkerchief provided her by Noah. She murmured a prayer in French and crossed herself.
Sam glanced at her, a puzzled look in his eyes. 'I thought you were an agnostic.'
'So did I,' she replied. '1 don't know why I did that. I wasn't conscious of even knowing any prayers. 1 don't know where the sign of the cross came from.'
'I do,' Noah told her gently. 'You're one of us now, Desiree. So welcome aboard the Good Ship Lollipop.'
Sam laughed at Noah. 'The more the merrier,' he said. 'Desiree, tell me, what do your parents do for a living?'
'Why—they own many businesses around the world. Some of them in France. For years, my father was a vice president for the Roma Companies. Something happened to the owner about—three years ago, 1 think. That's when my father branched out on his own.'
'Uh-huh,' Sam said. 'Now it's all beginning to come together; the pieces are fitting. Tell me, do your parents ever wear any type of medallion?'
'Why—now that you mention it, yes, they do. It's—kind of a strange-looking medallion. Very intricate in design. They tried, many times, ever since 1 was a little girl, to make me wear one like theirs. But every time I tried, I got sick. I mean, really physically ill. Or this terrible rash would cover my body. Finally, just a few weeks ago, as a matter of fact, they told me I was leaving France, and going to school in America. At Nelson College. They said that would prove their findings—one way or the other. I never did understand what they were talking about. Do you know?'
'Yes,' Sam answered. 'I sure do. You and Nydia will get along fine, I'm thinking. You both have a great deal in common.'
'1 am so ashamed for what happened today, Sam,' Desiree said. 'I don't—I don't know if I can even face your wife.'
'As long as you do not renounce the Lord God, my dear,' Noah told her, 'for our God is a forgiving God. If He can forgive us our human sins, surely the least we can do for Him is to practice forgiveness among ourselves.'
The young woman looked at him and smiled. She kept her opinions—if any—about his manner of dress to herself. 'Thank you, Mr.—'
'Crisp. But please call me Noah. Sam, you have puzzled me somewhat. What was that line of questioning about medallions? And you, my dear, what was all that about your getting sick? Would you be so kind as to clear that up for me?'
'Nydia's mother's name was Roma. The witch. She owned the companies where Desiree's father was VP. Roma tried to force Nydia to wear the Devil's medallion, but like Desiree, Nydia's—something in her body—or mind— refused to accept the medallion. They made her very sick. My belief is that God saw good in Nydia, and in Desiree, and intervened in His usual quiet manner. That's what that was all about.'
He wondered if he should tell them about the tablet. He decided against it. He had a hunch that would be left up to him—solely.
'I see,' Noah said. 'I—' He bit the words off before they rolled from his tongue. He was about to ask if Sam knew anything about the tablet, then thought better of it. The young man had enough weight on his shoulders without adding any more.
'You were about to say something, Noah?' Sam asked.
'It slipped my mind, Sam,' he lied. 'Must not have been very important.'
They pulled into the Draper's driveway. Noah said, 'Sam, would you be a dear boy and run into the house; ask Viv for a robe of some sort for Desiree. That jacket is positively indecent. I'll sit with her while you do that.'
While Viv was getting Desiree a robe, Sam told those in the den what had happened. 'And she is wondering if you can forgive her, Nydia.'
'There is nothing to forgive, Sam,' Nydia said. 'None of us had any control over ourselves.' She rose as Viv entered the den. 'Here.' Nydia held out her hand. 'Let me take the robe to her.'
Before Nydia could open the door, the sounds of Desiree's screaming and Noah's big .357 barking came to those in the house.
The house was plunged into darkness and Viv began shrieking in terror. 'Get it off me!' she wailed. 'Get it off me!'
EIGHT
'Yes,' Mille told her sister. 'Yes, you are most certainly coming with us. And if I have to drag your butt out of this house, I will. Now, get moving, girl!'
'Fuck you!' the teenager screamed. 'You can't make me do a goddamn thing.'
Mille slapped her, rocking the girl's head back and forth with the backhanded pops. Blood dotted the girl's mouth. Pete LaMeade stepped forward, his hands balled into fists. Joe stuck a pistol in the man's face.
'Just hold it right there, Pete,' he told the man. ''Cause I'll damn sure blow your head off.'
'This is kidnapping!' the father yelled. 'And I ain't gonna stand still for it.'
'No, it ain't kidnapping, Pete,' Joe corrected the man. 'And yeah, you're gonna stand still for it. What did you plan on doin'? Callin' a cop?'
Pete shot dark arrows of hate at Joe. But he made no further attempt to interfere. 'We'll get you,' he warned Joe. 'Bet on it, Bennett.'
Mille jerked the sobbing girl to her feet and shoved her toward the front door. 'Before this night is over, little
