Devil's Kiss

then decided against it. No point in dumping his problems on her. His gaze swept the room, stopping at a book on demonic possession. It lay on the coffee table.

'I didn't know you were interested in that stuff?' he pointed toward the book.

She leaned forward, picking up the book, a slight smile on her lips. 'I wasn't—until a couple of weeks ago.'

'Why all the sudden interest?' Sam tried to keep his voice cool, but he had a feeling Jane Ann could see past his calmness.

'I saw the book in a store in Rock Point. It seemed to pull me toward it. That must sound awfully stupid, Sam, but I swear I couldn't take my eyes off it. Do you know much about possession and devil worship?'

'More than most Protestant ministers, I should imagine. I almost got kicked out of seminary several times because I wanted to probe more deeply into the subject. I'm afraid most Protestants tend to take that subject rather lightly.'

'Do you take it lightly?'

'No, I don't.'

Their eyes met, locked, held. A chiming clock rang the quarter hour, the melodious donging echoing through the house. Sam stood up, knowing if he did not get out of this house—right then!—one of them could very easily do something they both would regret.

'Let's sit outside, Janey. On the porch.'

'Are you afraid of me, Sam?' Her eyes were very mischievous, shining at him.

'I refuse to answer that question. Come on.'

She followed him, carrying the book on possession and devil worship. She sat in the porch swing, Sam in a straight-back chair. Neither of them spoke for several minutes.

'Can you feel it, Sam?' she asked, her voice low, little more than a whisper.

'What are you talking about?' But he knew very well what she meant.

'This town.'

He sighed, nodding his head. 'Yes. I can feel . . . something. For several weeks, now.'

'What is it, Sam?'

The one question he had hoped she would not ask. 'I don't know,' he admitted.

'Want to hear a theory?'

'Go ahead.'

'Church attendance is down—all over Whitfield. I don't have to tell you that. People are behaving strangely, as if the word morality no longer existed. Two police officers tear down my door and threaten to rape me; draw dirty pictures on the door. Kids are disappearing. I'm practically throwing myself at my minister. I'm ashamed of myself, Sam. But I'm scared.'

'So am I, Janey. So am I. I've a confession to make: my own thoughts of you have not exactly been pristine the past few weeks.'

She smiled, hearing what she wanted to hear. 'Have you talked with Wade lately?'

'No. Not in several weeks—in depth, that is.'

'Chester?'

He shook his head. She was getting to something in her own way.

'Sam, for years Whitfield has been a nice place to live. People always got along well, helping each other in times of need. We're not growing in population, but we're not shrinking, either. There hasn't been any major crime in this town for years. We had a Red Cross chapter, a March of Dimes, a Rotary, a Lions—all the normal clubs and organizations. Yet in less than two months' time, they've all shut down. And there is this: nothing, and I mean nothing was ever done about Brother Hayes's murder. This man Farben comes in, professing to be a Baptist minister. But he isn't. Don't ask me how I know. I just do. I'm not telling you anything you don't already know, though, am I, Sam?'

'No, Janey, you're not. But I thought I was the only one who suspected something out of whack around Whitfield. But you're leaving out something: Sheriff Marsh.'

'Yes. Mr. Marsh was a good, decent man. A man in excellent health who suddenly drops dead of a heart attack. Two days after his funeral, his body is stolen. How many bodies have been stolen so far, Sam?'

'Too many, I'm afraid. But nothing is being done about it.'

'I didn't put it all together until last week. School was out, I didn't have anything to do, so I began looking around this town. I don't like what I've found. Or what I think I've found.'

'It's always on a Friday,' Sam muttered.

'You do know devil worship.'

'Not as much as Father Dubois, but enough to pique my curiosity—get me moving on my suspicions. I'll start today.'

'You've talked with Father Dubois?'

'Not lately, but I intend to.'

'Today is Friday, Sam.'

'I know,' the minister said quietly. 'What time did Perkins and Best try to break in?'

'It was—let me think. Twelve-thirty. I remember because I woke up when they started driving up and down this street. That was at midnight. I lay in bed wondering what in the world was going on.'

'Why did you ask me if I'd talked with Chester or Wade?'

'I overheard them talking at the church last Sunday. Chester is worried about this town, and his children. But Wade laughed at him. He said it was Chester's imagination. But Sam, it wasn't a very convincing laugh.'

'Yes, for the first time in his life, Wade's sent his kids off to summer camp. So did Miles. Wade is trying to play the skeptical-reporter bit. But his act is not coming off very well. He's worried.'

'He's a good Christian man.'

'One of the best I know, considering the line of work he's in.'

'What do you mean?'

'Reporters have to deal with all the frailties of humankind; it must be difficult not to become cynical after a time.'

'You're worried; I'm worried; Miles is worried; Wade is worried.' She shook her head. 'Sam, what do the numbers 666 mean to you?'

He smiled. 'That's a tonic, isn't it?'

'Come on!' she laughed. 'Be serious.'

'It's from Revelations. The Beast. Chapter 13. Mentions two beasts. The mark of the beast. The number is six hundred three score and six.'

'Do you believe it?'

'I have no reason to doubt it.'

'How about an upside down cross?'

'If you've read that book,' he pointed to the book on devil worship, 'you know what it means. Devil worship.'

'I know,' she said. 'I've seen both things.'

'Where?' he was instantly alert.

'There is an upside down cross just inside the front window of Hoge's Pool Hall. The numbers 666 are painted on the side of a barn, just outside of town. They weren't there last week. I'm sure of that.'

'Of course, Janey, we must remember that everything we're saying may just be the product of overactive imaginations. We have to consider that.'

'I have considered it, Sam—and rejected it.'

He nodded, not committing himself. 'All right. You've said nothing about this?'

'Not to a soul, Sam. Except to you.' She picked up the book on devil worship and possession. 'In this book, Sam, the author says some—well, disturbing things. He says there are Beasts on this earth that—well answer to the devil or the devil's agent. He says these Beasts are God's mistakes. I really feel funny saying that. He maintains that no one really knows exactly how many times God tried to make man in His image; that God may have tried several times, many times, even, and these Beasts are part of His failures. He says God managed to destroy all His other failures, but at least one effort survived, due to Satan's intervention, and the devil can call them out whenever