The Devil's Heart

MONDAY NIGHT

"Black magic? Devil worship? Roma and Mr. Falcon are witch and warlock?" Linda looked first at Sam, then Nydia. "Vampires? You're both putting me on—right?"

"No," Sam insisted. "It's all true."

"Your … real father left you a letter? You've been in communication with the … spirit world?"

"That is correct, Linda," Nydia said. "I know it's hard to believe, but it's true. Believe it."

She looked at the pair for a long moment. Finally a slow smile began pulling at her mouth. "Now I get it! Oh, boy … you two had me going for a minute. It's all a big joke, isn't it? Yeah. There's gonna be some sort of … costume party here, right? Spooks and monsters and things like that. Okay, I won't spoil it for you guys."

"Linda," Nydia leaned forward, taking the young woman's hands into her own, "it isn't a joke. It's deadly serious. I was raped last night—by Falcon. In a casket! Sam was beaten after my own mother—Roma—seduced Sam. Judy is one of them."

"Lana?" the question was asked in a soft voice.

"Most definitely."

"Then … everyone here is … one of those people?"

"Except for the young girls the new members brought with them. We're alone," Sam said. "In human form that is.

"And I don't trust you," Nydia said, still holding Linda's hands. The young woman tried to pull back, away, but Nydia's grip was strong.

"What … what do you mean: you don't trust me?"

"Nydia," Sam cautioned her. "I …"

"No, Sam! Let's get it in the open." She gave the entrapped young woman a dark look. "You're one of them yourself, Linda."

"No!"

"The pentagram on your chest."

"That's a birthmark, Nydia. I swear before God it is. You've got to believe me."

Somewhere in the house, a wailing began, containing a familiar note of pain and terror.

"What in God's name is that?" Linda asked.

"You've never heard it before?" Sam asked. "You don't know?"

"No, Sam—I swear it."

"That's one of the young girls brought in—kidnapped from God knows where. She's being raped … from both ends, probably; passed around among some pretty heavy-hung guys. She's not enjoying it very much, is she?"

Tears sprang into the blue of the girl's eyes. "I don't want that done to me. Ever! Oh, God, believe me, both of you, I'm a Christian. I go to church every Sunday. I worship God, not the Devil. Please, help me, believe me."

"Get the Bible, Sam," Nydia said. "Let's see."

The Bible was placed next to Linda. Nydia released her hands. Linda grabbed up the Holy Book and clutched it to her, her tears dropping onto the leather of the Book. "As is my witness," she said. "I love only Him. I swear it."

"Holy water," Nydia said, still not convinced of Linda's sincerity.

Sam put a few drops of holy water on the young woman's forehead. Nothing happened.

Nydia leaned back in her chair, nodding her acceptance.. "All right, Linda. I guess you're telling the truth."

The young woman fell to the floor and began weeping uncontrollably. Sam glanced at Nydia and shook his head, silently projecting: "I told you so."

Her reply was a shrug. She said, "Linda, move your things into my room; stay close to us. We'll make it out of this … mess."

Linda stayed on her knees, on the floor, for several moments, alternately weeping and praying. Finally, she rose to her feet, wiped her eyes, and apologized for her behavior.

"It's understandable, Nydia said, warming more and more toward her. "It's gotten next to both of us, several times. Go on," she gave her a gentle push, "get your things and come right back."

After she had left, Sam said, "But she could still be one of them. Roma told me the Holy Water only affects a witch, warlock, or the undead."

"What a performance." The burning words seared into the girl's head. "You almost had me weeping over your dilemma. But water and I don't mix very well. Such a pity it wasn't Oscar night."

"Thank vou," was her reply

"Well done." The voice cut into her brain. "Spoken without being gushy. You're learning quickly. I'll be in touch."

"Yes, Master."

And the evil force was gone from the room.

"Your mother must bear me the demon," the hot words penetrated into Black's brain. "She must be taken care of with the utmost of delicacy. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Master."

"You had better understand, young man. I will not tolerate any further backbiting from you. No more plotting against the female who birthed you. She soon will have served her purpose on earth and will be called home ... to me."

"I understand, Master. Falcon?"

"Oh, you are a schemer, aren't you? Not a drop of loyalty in you."

"Only to you, Prince."

"Bah! Only to me because you are afraid of me. You shit your pants each time we communicate. Do you really believe, young man, that you can best your mentor?"

"Sir, Falcon is not my mentor. Falcon is an idiot."

"Perhaps he is that, to a point. But he has loyalty, and that is something you do not possess."

"What can I do to prove my love for you?"

"Obey orders, for one thing." The voice had a tinge of dryness to it. "Have patience, young schemer, for you are but a child in the order of darkness. You have this life to live before anything of any significance is placed into your greedy hands."

Black was pouty. "I should have been born a true demon."

"Yes, but you weren't, and there is nothing even I can do about that. Have patience, those are my orders, and I expect to have them obeyed."

"I will obey you, Master. But now you hear me, …"

"Oh? Perhaps there is some hope for you after all. I detect—for the first time, I must add—a touch of courage in your usually whiny voice."

"I will rule this Coven, Master. Perhaps not today, or tomorrow, but someday. And if Falcon gets in my way … I will kill him."

The Prince of Darkness was silent for a moment. "Very well, young man, you have made your desires known. Fine. I admire and respect courage. Perhaps there is more of Balon in your blood than even I suspected. We shall see. I will tell you this much: should Falcon fail, and should you have the opportunity and skill to destroy him … well, that would be points in your favor."

Black wanted to ask more of the Prince, but with a rush of stinking winds, the Master of the Profane was gone, and Black knew better than to push the issue. But, the man smiled, the King of Terror had not rejected his words or chastized him for them. So there was a glimmer of hope.

Ruler of the Coven. Black rather liked the sound of that.