Devil's Kiss (44 page)

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.”

“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.

“Hello the camp!” Wilder called, stopping a few hundred yards from the small band of Believers.

“My God against your Master?” Sam returned the shout.

“Something to that effect,” Wilder's voice boomed over the rolling grass effortlessly. “But nothing so dramatic as that. That would be the war to end all wars. And then our Gods could not play their little games with each other. What would they then do to amuse themselves?”

“I may assume I'm to be one of the protagonists in this little drama?”

“Singular, Mr. Balon.”

“And if I win?”

“You make me laugh, sir. You can do nothing but lose.”

Sam shook off Jane Ann's restraining hand and walked out to Wilder and Nydia. He stopped by Tony's side on the edge of the camp. “Remember what I said, Tony.” He walked out of the camp without looking back.

Sam faced the warlock. “I can't win? Perhaps you'd better explain that?”

“Surely, sir. You see, Mr. Balon, your God doesn't make deals. With your God it is all or nothing. Not so with my Master. By now, sir, you must know that all previous rules no longer apply. I can destroy you all with a snap of my fingers.”

Sam smiled. “But not me, Mr. Wilder.”

“Not I, sir, is correct. But grammatical faux pas need not concern us this day. However, you are correct in your assumption that I cannot harm you—yet.”

“And your proposition—?”

For a very brief moment, Wilder's look was of admiration. It passed quickly. “You are a man of honor, are you not, sir?”

“I like to think so.”

“And if you give your word?”

“I keep it.”

“At all costs?”

“Right.”

“How marvelously human. Now hear me, Mr. Balon, I can kill your friends—all of them—in a most disgusting manner. I can turn them into roaches. Remember, sir, we are playing under a new set of rules. I can whisk the women away from this place and have them on their backs as whores before you can blink. I can do anything I wish—with them.” He glanced at Jane Ann, alone in the distance. “I will have her first. I will take her in every way known. I will enjoy her wailing as I mount her from the rear. After I have done with her, I shall give her eternal life—as a whore. Do you want that to happen?”

“You know I don't,” Sam said gently.

Wilder glanced at Nydia. Her smile was mocking. He sighed. “The moment I knew would someday come, and someday is now.”

“There have been others, Black,” the witch said.

“I assure you, my dear, that is but a small consolation.” He looked at Sam. “Well, sir, here it is: Me for you.”

“What's the catch?”

“Oh, my, sir! You are a suspicious man, aren't you?”

“Come on, Black—what's the catch?”

His smile was not pleasant. “I allow you to destroy me. That is my Master's wish.” He shrugged. “It is a small thing, I assure you. No matter how you go about it, I won't die. I'll just leave here to join my Prince.”

“Get to the point, Black.”

This time, Wilder's smile was genuine. “Then, sir, you will be hers,” he cut his eyes to Nydia, “to do with as she desires—until midnight.”

“I can resist if I choose?”

“Oh, my, yes! I wouldn't have it any other way.”

Nydia's face darkened with anger. “Damn you, Black!” she spat the words venomously. “That wasn't in the deal.”

His smile broadened. “It is now, my dear.”

“You son-of-a bitch!” she cursed the warlock.

Laughter sprang from his mouth. “Of course, I am. Who do you think birthed me, the Virgin Mary?”

“I'll be back in a minute,” Sam said. “You two carry on your war.

“We've been doing just that for centuries,” Wilder stopped the minister cold.

Sam turned. “Centuries?”

“How old is sin, young man?” Wilder asked.

“Very old.”

“Then so are we.”

Sam walked to the camp, picking up a stake. He looked at Jane Ann. “I'm not going to kiss you or touch you, honey. If I did that, I'd want to stay—and I can't. I love you, don't forget that. And I know you're carrying my child—our child. Stay with Tony when this is over. You two have a lot in common. He'll help you raise our child—our son. Make our son a man, Janey, a real man. Instill in him virtue, but don't make him a pansy. I want him to appreciate fine music, the arts, and I want him in the military to pull his hitch. That's important, Janey. I want him in a tough outfit; a hard-assed special unit. He's going to need all the training he can get.”

“Sam!” she was crying.

Be still and listen to me.”

But the words would not form on his tongue. Words of more warning; of things he knew would come in the future would not pass his lips. The minister struggled to speak, but found he could not.

All right! Sam silently spoke to God. Have it Your way. But You will help my son by Jane Ann when he meets my son from Nydia?

How weak you must think you are!
His voice boomed in Sam's head.

I'm a mortal! Sam returned the silent shout.

No more booming filled the minister's head. But as his voice returned to him, he heard a whispered reply:
I will help!

“Goodbye,” Sam said to his wife, to his friends. He walked into the prairie.

Wilder's eyes touched the stake in Sam's hand. “Oh,
you
would choose that method,” he said disgustedly.

“May we talk for a few moments?” Sam asked.

Wilder looked at Nydia, then cut his eyes to Jimmy, standing a few yards away, picking his nose. “Get that buffoon out of here.”

And Jimmy was gone.

Sam blinked.

“Of course, we may chat for a few moments, sir,” Black said. “You may be sure I am in no frantic rush to return to Hell. It's a dismal place, at best. Depressing.”

“The Church of the Fifteen—it will continue to thrive?”

“Certainly! Everywhere there is a cult—of any kind or type. My Master already has plans formulated for the 1970s. It should be interesting.”

“I don't understand any of this,” Sam said, lifting the stake. “Not just this—all of it.”

Wilder chuckled. “There is nothing terribly complicated about it, sir. It's a game. A high-rolling crap shoot between the biggest players at the table. Your shooter gambles on the hope of Love winning for Him. My shooter gambles on what you call Sin winning for him. I can tell you this, sir: A little water and a better class of residents and there would be no difference between Heaven and Hell.”

Despite what lay before him, Sam chuckled. “I almost like you, Black. Even though you are a double-dealing son-of-a-bitch!”

Wilder grinned. “I'm told that if there had not been a most unfortunate slipup nine months prior to my birth, I would be an Angel.”

“A slight indiscretion on the part of your mother?”

“Correct. Sam, I don't fear what you're about to do to me. I'm
not
going to die. I
can't
die! I died almost five thousand years ago.”

For a moment, Sam felt a mish mash of emotions for Black Wilder. Then he remembered the man that destroyed a town full of people.

“No, Mr. Balon,” Wilder read his thoughts.
I
did not destroy those people.
You
destroyed those people, sir. I gave them what they longed and lusted for. And I assure you, sir, ninety-five percent of them were eager to join me.”