The Devil's Heart (35 page)

"1 will not deny my God," Jane Ann said. "And He will not deny me."

"Listen to the little cunt scream for a few hours, bitch, you might change your mind."

"No," Jane Ann said quietly. "I will not."

"Tell me this, Miss Christian Cunt: you people are taught that your God is a just and merciful God. Why then, would He allow this to happen? The rape and torture of a child? Come on, pussy, tell me."

"You know I can't answer that, except to say that after the pain there is a home where there is no pain. Where His people can live in …"

Jean kicked her in the stomach, silencing her. "Oh, don't hand me that mumbo jumbo. I'm sick of hearing all that shit!" She raised her hands into the air. "Let the mass begin."

And the crowd surged forward, all straining to see the girl raped and tortured and offered up to their Dark Master in sacrifice.

Jane Ann had thought the pitiful weeping and screaming of the child would never cease, and she knew she had never before in her life prayed so fervently. Certainly she had never prayed for the death of a child. Until now.

Selected men of the Coven had assaulted the child in every conceivable manner, until her blood dripped from the altar. And Jane Ann had been forced to stand by the altar and watch. She had prayed with her eyes open, for when she shut them a fist would bruise her battered flesh until she opened them.

Just before the hideous sacrifice was to begin, when a chosen member would literally slice strips of flesh from the girl, the child shuddered, gasped once, and died, the blank empty eyes staring at nothing.

"No!" Jean screamed her outrage at this denial.

Jane Ann looked to the Heavens. "Thank you," she said.

Jean spun around, glaring at the smaller woman. "You … you had something to do with her death, didn't you?"

"I certainly hope so," Jane Ann said.

Jean's smile was grim, filled with all the evil within her. She looked at Jake, standing by her side. "Break all her fingers, Jake. One at a time. Do it slowly. Make her beg."

"You must prepare to leave," Falcon stood over Roma's bed. "We cannot risk harm coming to you. I have spoken with the Master, and those are his wishes. He told me you are very susceptible to mortal injury while you are with Demon child."

"True," Roma said, looking up at him. "But where will I go? And how?"

"Use the tunnels. It will be difficult for you, but it is the only way. Now the other thing I must do. I have a plan, but it will mean the death of Black."

She shrugged. "He is worthless. He has plotted against me; plotted against you. Only a few hours ago he gathered some of the ones from school to scheme against you. As Nydia is no longer my daughter, Black is no longer my son. Do with him as you must."

The witch and the warlock locked gazes, their thoughts exposed.

"No," she said. "No, I cannot allow it, Falcon."

"There is no other way."

"I will not permit it. You are a good man, Falcon. A bit vain, perhaps, but all good men are. I will not permit your dying for me."

"I fear I must. For I am the only person in this house capable of besting young Sam. My plan will surely mean my death."

She sighed. "I seem to have played out this scenario before." Her words were ruefully spoken.

Falcon could but shrug. "I have instructed Jimmy and two of the other servants to go with you … see you to safety. We won't see each other again, darling … at least not on this earth."

"Nydia?"

"One of ours is with her, on direct orders from the Master.

"Kill Balon's Christian bastard for me, Falcon. Only for me."

"It will be my pleasure," he said, smiling wickedly, then turned, walking from the room.

Jane Ann lay on the ground, her useless hands by her side. She had never in her life felt such intense pain as when Jake calmly broke her fingers, laughing at her screaming. She had passed out several times, only to be brought back to searing consciousness and harsh awareness by buckets of water being hurled on her nakedness.

She had screamed and she had wept.

But she had not begged.

She had been dragged to the darkness of the outer circle, forced to watch as the Beasts ate the body of the young girl.

She felt hands pulling her to her feet, and someone spraying her with cold water. The nozzle was jammed between her legs. "Got to clean up the pussy," Jean grinned at her. "Get you all ready for another round." She turned to Jake. "Stick the nozzle up her ass, too."

Jane Ann was positioned on the altar.

And the defilement began anew.

The Coven members laughed at her screams, the Beasts howled and danced.

Jane Ann silently prayed for forgiveness.

The voice awakened Sam.

"This will be our last communication, young warrior. For I must leave now."

"Are you going back … ah … home?"

"By a wandering route, yes."

At a loss for anything else to say, Sam said, "Well … been good talking to you."

The voice chuckled, the sky thundered. "How like your father you are. Good luck, young warrior."

Sam felt the force pull away, and knew that he was now truly on his own in this fight. Alone, he reminded himself, amending his thoughts, as far as physical assistance, that is. I still have … Him, he cast his eyes upward, toward the twinkling Heavens. "I hope," he muttered.

He ate the last of his food, then catnapped until dawn split the east with hues of awakening colors. Sam returned to his sniping war of nerves. At full dark, with only a few hours left him to complete his task, Sam would enter the house.

He didn't know how he would accomplish that, but he felt he would find a way, since he didn't really have a choice in the matter.

He also felt those in the house knew he would be coming in. And they would be waiting for him.

There was grudging respect in Jean's eyes as she prodded Jane Ann awake with the toe of her boot. It had suddenly turned cold in Fork County, the temperature dropping into the mid-thirties during the night. Satan had pulled away his presence. Jane Ann lay shivering, naked on the ground. But she had neither complained nor begged.

"You think you've won, don't you?" Jean asked, her lips pulled in a sneer.

"Yes," Jane Ann managed a whisper, pushing the word past swollen lips. "My God always does."

Jean squatted down beside her, the stench of her unwashed body unbearable. She pulled a hunting knife from a sheath. "What I think I'll do, bitch, is cut off your tits and feed them to the Beasts."

Jane Ann said nothing.

"You wouldn't beg even then, would you?"

"No," the suffering, ravaged woman said.

"You know what we're going to do, don't you, cunt?"

"Yes."

Jean stood up, looked at Jane Ann for a moment, then savagely kicked her in the face with a booted foot. "Get the cross," she said to Jake. "And the hammers and spikes. Do it. Now."

* * *

"Is it almost over, Sam?" Miles asked. "Please God, let it be."

"A few more hours."

"Then you'll stop the suffering?"

"It will be stopped."

"I still don't understand why it had to be," Anita said. "Not entirely."

"It will be explained. I promise."

"You left us several times last night," Miles said. "I felt your presence leave."

"I went to the scene of ugliness several times. Once I let the spirit of a child depart her body."

Doris asked, "You could do that for her and not for Jane Ann?"

"Yes."

"There is so much I do not understand."

"It will be explained. Behind the curtain of life and death."

Wade sighed. "I never thought I'd hear myself say this, but I'm ready to go."

"He said it, Sam," Miles pointed to Wade. "Not me."

Soon, the mist that was Balon told them. "Only a few more hours."

"Ohh," Miles moaned.

She had screamed when they drove the spikes into her hands, her feet, her sides, losing consciousness only momentarily. Then, awake, she found the strength to cope. They had jammed a crown of thorns on her head, the blood dripped down her face,.streaking her bruised beauty. She hung naked from her wooden tower.

"Tell me your God is shit!" Tony yelled up to her.

Her eyes found him. "My God is love," Jane Ann whispered.

"Say it," a man urged. "Tell us you renounce your faith in your stupid God and we'll get you down, tend to your wounds."

But Jane Ann managed a smile, shaking her head no.

Some in the crowd, a few, grew restless, worried, for this was not going as planned. They had beaten and raped and tortured this woman nailed to a cross and still she could smile and keep her faith. Some began to openly question what they had done. Others began questioning their minds: could they, under the same circumstances, retain their faith for the Hooved One? Many doubted it.

"I want out," a woman sobbed. "Oh, God—help me get away from here."

A few others joined her. "Take Janey down!" a man called out. "She's suffered enough. Set her free and tend to her wounds."

Those few were seized and killed. One was spread-eagled on the ground, a stake driven through his stomach. He lay screaming for hours. Another man was given to the Beasts; they ate him alive. Two of the women were raped, then given to the Beasts for breeding purposes. The woman who first cried out to leave was given to Jake. She screamed out her humiliation as he took her in various ways. Then she was stoned to death.

"Anyone else want out?" Jean demanded, shouting at the huge crowd. "If so, just step forward."

No one did, but the thoughts of some were confused and troubled.

Jane Ann watched them, sensing the mood of many shifting. She wanted to tell them that if they confessed their sins and accepted God as the only True God, they could be saved. But the words would not form on her tongue. And she wondered why?

"Don't concern yourself with them!" Balon's words cut through the horrible pain in her body. "They are filth—rabble, body and soul belonging to the Dark One."

"You are a warrior, Sam Balon," she whispered, her voice not carrying three feet from her lonely tower. "And you will always be so." The crowd gathered ten feet below saw her lips move, but could not hear her words. They assumed she was praying. "Those are human beings," Jane Ann told the invisible spirit of Balon. "Some of hem used to be my friends. And obviously, some of them still have good in their hearts. They were tempted, Sam, and you know how delicious Satan can make sin."

Balon was firm. He projected: "They are sinners of the most evil sort. Knowingly, willingly, lovingly violating all of God's Commandments."

"I want to help them if I can." Jane Ann was just as stubborn as Sam Balon.

And the mist that was Balon, invisible as it circled around the scene of pain and degradation, projected: "You are certain? Even after all they have done to you? All the pain, the humiliation—you wish to help them?"

"Yes."

And in the firmament, the Total Being knew He had been right, choosing well.

Balon said: "Very well. That choice is entirely up to you."

Jane Ann felt Balon's presence fade. Once more, she was alone, looking down at her tormentors from her nailed position of pain and faith. She gazed at the assembled throng of Satanists, and many looked back at her, most with open hatred and defiance, but a few with concern and pity. Her eyes touched those, holding for a few seconds. When Jane Ann had their attention firm, she said, "I can promise you nothing except what help I might be able to give … offering my prayers for you. The rest is up to you."

"What the fuck are you mouthing about now, bitch?" Jake yelled up at her. He laughed hoarsely. "The silly cunt is losing her mind."

But a few among the many knew better. About thirty moved to the base of the pain-wracked tower. The numbers equally divided between men and women. They stood defiantly before the crowd, many of whom were old friends and lifelong acquaintances. The few looked at one another, then began to sing, softly at first, then with gathering power as the faith they had lost once more filled them with the strength they knew they would soon need. Many openly wept as their love of God returned to them, overwhelming them with the feeling that at last, at long last, they were doing something worthy with their lives.

No one among the large crowd watching them attempted to interfere, for those gathered under the bloody, starkly vivid cross were all armed.

"Throw down your guns," Jane Ann told them.

All but one did. He walked back into the crowd that encircled the Cross of Faith and the few who, at the last, had seen the True Way.

The powerful strains of "Faith Of Our Fathers" rang over the site of rape and defilement and slow, agonizing death.

Shouting profanities, the Coven members surged forward, with Jean shouting orders to build more crosses, and do it quickly.

Sam darted across the grounds, toward the mansion, only faintly defined in the growing darkness. No lights showing. Dark windows like evil, watching eyes. Stopping at the back door, he paused to catch his breath and to ponder his sanity at doing this. Putting an ear to the door, he listened, but could detect no sound from within. He drew back, extending his arm to the door knob. Just before his hand touched the brass, the door swung open, and Falcon stood smiling at him, his fanged teeth glistening wetly in the darkness of the room.

"My dear Mr. King," the warlock said, his smile hideous. "So good to see you. Please come in. We've been waiting."

"Stay away from me," Janet warned the older girl. "1 mean it. I don't trust you," she whispered.

Linda smiled, her smile both evil and wanting. She returned the whisper. "Why don't you scream? Nydia will come to your aid."

"I will if you don't leave me alone." Nydia lay on the couch before the fire, deep in sleep. Her stomach was hurting. She moaned in her sleep.

Linda was steadily backing the child into a corner, her face holding a strange look, eyes burning. "Really thought you could get away with it, didn't you?"