Devil's Kiss

'Yes,' the minister said. 'Sevens again. It's just another example of Satan's humor—mocking God. He's been doing it for thousands of years. And we won't stop him. Hopefully, we can run him out of this area, but we won't beat him; he'll just move on to another place. Or, perhaps return here.'

'You're the most pessimistic man of God I've ever seen,' Wade complained. But Wade, like the others, knew there were some devil worshippers who got away.

The eight stood on a small rise overlooking Whitfield, watching the town burn itself out, hearing the faint screaming of the Godless as they became part of Satan's inferno, drifting into his domain, scorching and smoking.

It was noon of the Sixth day.

That night, not knowing what Wilder might hurl at them, the eight ran for their lives, their very souls, finally, at one o'clock in the morning, barricading themselves in a farm house for an onslaught that never materialized.

Wilder had very few people left to command, but he did have some tricks still up his sleeve.

'No!' Chester screamed out the one word of protest. 'No! Damn you—NO!'

Eyes went to the moonlit yard. Eyes filling with horror at the sight before them. John Benton stood with Faye Stokes, the woman covered with dirt from her newly-exited grave. Together, they grinned a ghastly smirk at the house. Benton lifted her funeral dress and fondled her.

Chester went berserk with rage.

It was all the men could do to restrain him, pinning him to the floor.

'It's a trap, Ches!' Sam yelled. 'Don't fall for it. They're trying to suck you outside.'

But Chester, with the strength of the maddened and angry, threw the men from him. He jumped to his feet and ran weaponless outside.

'Chester,' Faye called, opening her arms to him. 'Come to me.'

Sam tackled the man, dragging him to the ground, trying to pull him back into the house. Chester broke free and ran to his wife's side.

Benton and Faye were on him instantly, biting him, sucking the blood from him. Sam grabbed a canteen of Holy Water and ran to the macabre scene, hurling the blessed water on the trio.

The three of them screamed their pain. It was too late for Chester.

'Stakes!' Sam yelled. 'Hurry!'

As the Godless writhed in pain, attempting to escape the burning water, Sam drove a stake into Benton's chest with one powerful thrust. Wade slammed a stake into Faye, filth from her mouth spraying him, sickening him, the slime dripping from his shirt.

Sam emptied his pistol into the changing body of Chester, hoping that would stop him, hoping he would not have to commit the ultimate act on his friend. But he knew it was too late as he watched the heavy slugs drive his friend back, but not stop him.

Chester came on, grinning, his tongue blood-red, teeth changing with each step, eyes shining with newfound evil.

Sam, a dozen feet from the man, hurled a stake at him, the point burying in the man's chest. Chester's hands clutched at the shaft, pus running over his thickening tongue and pale lips. He swayed for a moment. Sam stepped forward and pushed the stake into his chest, hitting the heart. Chester fell forward, the impact driving the point through him, jutting out his back.

The prairie was quiet under God's moon, the pale white orb illuminating the specter of death around the house. Inside the old home, the sounds of weeping drifted out to Sam. Men and women breaking under the pressure, their emotions lashing out.

Sam stood for a time looking down at what remained of his friend, wondering if the price they were all having to pay was too high?

A few more hours, he thought. Just a few more hours.

Then, finally admitting what he had known all along: It will be my turn to meet the Prince of Darkness.

Wednesday - The Seventh Day

Sam was down mentally this day, the others sensing his depression, but not understanding it.

'We've beaten them, Sam!' Wade tried to lift his minister's mood. 'We can coast now.'

Sam shook his head. 'No, Wade, that's not true. You don't understand the rules of the game.'

'Game?' Miles said. 'Game? Dear God, this has been a game?'

Sam looked around. The others were asleep. 'Come on, I want Tony to hear this.'

They walked to where the doctor stood on guard. 'Now all of you listen to me,' Sam said. 'Very carefully. If— today I make a decision that seems—rash to you, don't try to stop me. I know what I'm doing.'

Tony looked puzzled. 'I don't understand, Sam.'

'It's all over at midnight tonight,' Sam explained. 'So all rules are off—gone. Satan's dream of a glorious reign in Whitfield has, for now—and remember the word: now—all been destroyed. By us. More specifically, by me. It's me he wants; or something from me, and I think I know what it is. Anyway, don't question what I do this afternoon.' He glanced at Tony. 'Take care of Jane Ann.'

'What?'

'You heard me. She's pregnant. Don't ask me how I know that for a fact, I just do. It will be a son. Help Jane Ann raise him. He's going to have to be awfully strong.'

Sam walked away, leaving three very puzzled men. He walked to the top of a small rise, to stand there alone, looking up at the Heavens, talking softly with his God.

'He knows,' Wilder said. 'He's made up his mind. Balon is making his peace with his God, now.'

Nydia felt desire well up in her. 'Then I'll have him?'

'If all goes well.' He willed his thoughts to be heard by his Master, and the Master listened and agreed.

Wilder's smile was bittersweet as he listened to his Master lay down the new rules of this game.

'What does our Prince say?' Nydia asked, irritated because she was excluded from the conversation.

'You get your wish, Nydia. The Prince has looked into the mind of Balon.'

'And?'

'Him for me.'

'I wish I could say I'll miss you, Black,' her smile was full of mockery.

'You obviously have forgotten the pain of birthing a demon, Nydia.'

'No. I haven't forgotten, Black. And I don't know if I shall survive the birthing—I'm older now. But whatever price I have to pay, it will be worth it. For both of us.'

'Nydia,' Wilder's voice softened, and she looked at him. 'We have never really cared for one another, but we have worked well together— most of the time. Altogether, you are probably the most beautiful witch I have ever seen. Thoroughly disgusting at times, but that is part of a witch's nature. I must warn you of this: Balon's mate is with child. A boy child. And you know he will be strong, as well as blessed—blessed as much as a mortal can be, that is.

'Remember this, Nydia, and remember it well, you will have but a few hours to seduce him, and Balon is a strong-willed man.'

'I won't fail, Black.'

'I hope not.' He took her hand. 'Come, it's time.'

'Sam?' Jane Ann called. 'There are two people walking toward the camp—out on the plains.'

'I see them,' Sam was calm. 'I've been expecting them.'

'There is someone else lagging behind them,' Miles said, peering through binoculars. 'It's Jimmy!'

Sam said nothing.