The Devil's Touch

'I concur. But for now, we'd better stay here and stay quiet.'

Hasseling sat down on the ground beside his friend. 'Byron? I've a confession to make. I'm scared half out of my wits.'

Byron peered through the murk at the man. Byron had come very close to becoming a street punk in Buffalo before joining the church and straightening up his act. For a moment, he reverted back to the streets. 'Well, Richard,' he said. 'Join the fucking club!'

And Pete LaMeade's shovel struck the top of his wife's coffin. Pete broke the seal and lifted the lid. He looked at the rotting grinning face. Lisa LaMeade opened her eyes and gazed up at her husband. Pete lifted her head and pressed his mouth to her decaying lips.

'Come, Ma jolie,' he whispered against the stink of her face. 'You are free.'

BOOK THREE

We will have no truce or parley with you, or the grisly gang who work your wicked will. You do your worst—and we will do our best.

—Churchill

ONE

MONDAY

Noah had taken a chance and driven out to Sam and Nydia's. He now stood in the den, looking at Sam's collection of guns. 'No doubt about it, Sam. You have quite an impressive arsenal here.'

'That you can see,' Sam replied with a boyish grin. 'Take whatever suits you. For I don't believe you will be allowed to leave the town if you tried returning to your house for weapons.'

'I'm certain you are correct in that,' Noah replied. He selected a twelve gauge shotgun and began filling a sack with shells.

Sam opened the back of his gun case and pulled out an AK-47. The AK-47 is almost universally accepted as the best combat rifle ever made.

Noah looked at the AK. He arched one eyebrow. 'My word. Is that—'

'Yes,' Sam replied. 'Full auto.' He went to a storage room and returned, carrying a full case of 7.62 ammunition and several canvas pouch belts.

Noah arched the other eyebrow. 'In New York State, too,' he muttered. 'You really do like to live dangerously, don't you, Sam?'

'No, not really. I just believe it is the right of any law-abiding citizen to own any weapon they might choose to own. I think limits should only apply to howitzers, land mines, and weapons of that nature.'

'My sentiments, exactly, Sam,' the writer said.

Sam sat down on the couch and began filling clips. Noah sat beside him, filling a canvas loop belt with double ought buckshot shells.

Using the handy-talkie, Nydia contacted the Drapers, speaking with Viv. She clicked off and said to Sam, 'Little Sam is all right. Sam—what are we going to do?'

Without looking up from his work, Sam said, 'We're going to gather up every weapon I have and every weapon Monty owns, and all the ammunition and food we can steal. That's first. Then we are going—all of us—out to Fox Estate and make them come to us. That mansion is built of native rock; they won't be able to burn us out or starve us out. I think, I believe, that if we can hold out until midnight of the thirty-first, we'll be home free. Sometime between Thursday and Saturday, I may have to enter the Giddon House and try to find and destroy the Tablet of Satan.'

''The Tablet?' Father Le Moyne asked.

'There is a Tablet that belongs to the Devil. It is inscribed: 'HE WALKS AMONG YOU. THE MARK OF THE BEAST IS PLAIN. BELIEVE IN HIM. ONCE TOUCHED, FOREVER HIS. THE KISS OF LIFE AND DEATH.' It is said that if the Tablet is destroyed, that person will have some control over the actions of Satan. My father attempted to destroy it. He was killed. Maybe I'll have better luck.' (The Devil's Kiss)

'And the Tablet is covered with obscene drawings, cut into the stone?' Noah asked.

'Why—yes,' Sam said, looking at him. 'Why—how did you know that?'

'I was afraid that was the Tablet you were referring to. I did a great deal of research on the Dark One. I discovered some small reference to the Tablet in an old obscure book. How did you know about the power over Satan supposedly given to the mortal who destroys the Tablet?'

Sam shook his head. 'I—I didn't, Noah. Not until just then.'

'And your father? Did he know?'

'I don't know. I get the feeling he might have, toward the end.'

Mille entered the den, her sister with her, holding onto her hand. Jeanne looked fresh and innocent, her eyes reflecting a renewed spirit and inner strength.

'I lived through a nightmare,' the teenager said, speaking softly. 'But thanks to all of you, I'm O.K. I want to thank you, all of you.'

Father Le Moyne rose and put a gentle hand on Jeanne's shoulder. 'All that is behind you now, Jeanne. For now, we must look to the future.'