The Devil's Touch (22 page)

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Authors: William W. Johnstone

Tags: #Horror, #Religious Horror, #Fiction, #Satan, #Devil, #Cult, #Coven, #Occult, #Demons, #Undead

BOOK: The Devil's Touch
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"Yes," Sam agreed. "And we're going to have to work at it. You want to take a bath first? I'll watch Little Sam."

"Sam—as badly as I crave a long hot soak, please be my guest. And go before the wind changes.
Please!"

Laughing in the face of Satan, the young couple and their son entered the house. They had renewed their faith, their love for each other, and for God. They felt they could now face the upcoming horror with all that in their favor.

The door closed behind them.

In the orchard beside the stone house, a Beast stuck its ugly head out of the ground. The Beast was confused. It sensed something it did not like. The house beside the old orchard now contained two people whose love of its Master's enemy overrode their fear. The Beast was uncomfortable with that. He would tell the others about the people, and they would try to avoid contact.

"You see," the thunder rolled across the firmament, "faith is still strong among some."

"Umm," the warrior replied. He was not yet convinced his help was not needed.

"I think," the thunder rumbled, "the Arrogant One has just made the mistake that will defeat him. If the small group can endure what is in store for them."

"In Logandale," the warrior amended that.

"To be sure. But of course there will be many, many more like Logandale."

"Of course," the warrior replied, his statement containing more than a touch of sarcasm.

The Giver of Life and Light and Hope chuckled. "You're just annoyed because you missed a fight, Michael."

"As the Devil Child said, 'This is not the end, but the beginning.'"

"That is quite true. This confrontation will not be of the magnitude of the conflict at Falcon House, I am thinking. This one will pit pure Good against black Evil. Of course, I could be wrong."

"Pity I don't have a stone and a hammer handy," the warrior said. "I'd like to save that last bit forever."

The look the warrior received caused a monsoon on Earth. It did not bother the warrior.

"Are You saying I might yet be called upon?" the warrior asked.

The sigh blew across the heavens. "Will you
ever
learn patience, Michael?"

"How many times have You asked me that?"

"1 could tell you precisely, but it would only serve to depress me."

The warrior chuckled and took his place beside the Giver of Life. The warrior wished things would pick up in Logandale. He enjoyed a good fight.

When Sam and Nydia arrived at the Draper home, Little Sam was with them, for they could not trust anyone with him. They found a discouraged Father Le Moyne sitting with Noah and Monty and Viv Draper. Mille joined the group. Ginny had gone into mild shock and was in bed.

As briefly as possible, Sam told them what had happened that day, to him. Nydia picked up when Sam quit. She left nothing out, but was as eloquent about the telling as she could be.

Father Le Moyne crossed himself and muttered a small prayer when she told the priest about his brother and sister-in-law.

"You're certain Jon said my brother and his wife were fatally injured?"

"Yes, Father," Nydia replied. "And he said you would see them both tonight."

"But of course I'll see them tonight."

"I don't think that was the type of visit Jon had in mind," Nydia said softly.

The priest looked confused for a moment. Then full understanding bloomed in his mind. He rose, his face masked with rage. "That is unthinkable. Outrageous! I simply will not permit it." He was gripping the large cross so tightly his knuckles were white from the strain.

"You won't have anything to say about it, Father," Sam spoke. "Besides, I would imagine the unthinkable has already occurred. And I doubt they were killed in any car accident. My guess would be they didn't get more than five miles outside of Logandale."

"But—the state police called Jon," Father Le Moyne said. "How—" He trailed it off into silence.

Sam picked up the phone in the den. He punched the number of a friend in New York City. "I am sorry for the inconvenience," a woman's voice said. "But telephone service is temporarily disrupted in the Logandale area. Repair crews are working to restore service as quickly as possible. We apologize for this temporary inconvenience."

"Guess that 'bout settles it," Joe said. "We're cut off tight."

Mille put her face in her hands and fought back tears. Viv went to her and put her arms around the young woman.

"We've told you what happened to us," Nydia said. "What happened here today?"

"Why—everything went just marvellously well!" Noah said, his tone full of undisguised disgust and sarcasm. "Some creature from the bowels of hell came lurching down that hall," he said pointing, "and Daniel proved his courage by confronting the—
thing.
He was then verbally assaulted by that young fool, Hasseling. I finally ordered Hasseling from the house—and then realized it wasn't my house!" Sam had to smile at that. "Hasseling and Byron Price then left together— ostensibly to rally support for their mistaken belief that all of us," he said indicating the entire group, including Sam and Nydia, "are candidates for the nut house because of our knowledge that Satan is present here in Logandale. We'll probably never see the two young fools again. And I, personally, would consider that a great blessing."

"That is not very Christian of you Noah," Father Le Moyne gently admonished his friend. "They are of different ideological beliefs. They were taught from childhood to believe in Satan, but at the same contradictory time, to scoff and disbelieve in demonic possession and related fields. Their behavior is really not their fault in the main."

"Very charitable and commendable of you, Daniel.'1 Noah stood his ground. "But 1 fail to see how any so-called intelligent human could deny the existence of Satan on earth. It is simply beyond my comprehension. Richard Hasseling and Byron Price can, as far as I am concerned, go jump into the river."

"Where is Father Morton?" Sam asked, wisely changing the subject.

"He went to his home. He, at least," Noah said, not backing away from his opinion of Hasseling and Price, "has the good sense to see beyond the end of his nose. He went to get his wife, Barbara, and their children."

"Dear little Janet," Father Le Moyne muttered. "Such a sweet child. So gentle with children. It's—difficult for me to believe it about her. Jon—well, I knew something was troubling him. I tried more than once to talk with him. He would turn his back to me; refuse to speak of it. I should have known. I should have known."

"Should have
known?"
Viv said. "How could you have known? I still can't believe all this is happening. How can you say you should have known?"

Sam and Nydia both caught the look that passed between Father Le Moyne and Noah. The priest smiled. "I—have been on speaking terms with the Dark One on—shall we say, more than one occasion, Vivian. And Noah knows him just as well—perhaps even more intimately than I." The priest turned his eyes to Sam. "But young Mr. Balon and Nydia know Satan far better than any of us. I, for one, am prepared to follow Sam's orders. I might not agree with all of them. But I think if we are to survive this—ordeal, we had best elect a person to give the orders."

"I'll go along with that," Joe said. "Me and Mille talked about that a few hours. After Sam told us what happened up in Canada. Now—" He sighed. "I ain't sayin' I believe all that Sam said—'bout all them creatures and monsters bein' called out and such—but in my present state of mind, I'm just 'bout ready to believe
anything.
I do have one question, though. Sam, how come we can't just pack it up and clear out of here?"

"Oh, I think you people can," Sam told the group. "I don't think anyone would stop you. Not now. Satan has changed the rules of the game. But I don't think any of you would remember a thing once you got past the city limits sign. But Nydia and I wouldn't be allowed to leave. We play too important a role in the scheme of Satan's plans." He looked at Father Le Moyne. "Do you agree with that, Father?"

The priest nodded his head in agreement. "For most of us it comes down to a matter of choice. Yes. For now, I think for a very short time, most would be allowed to leave. But that time is, I believe, growing short."

"I got to get to my little sister, Jeanne," Mille said. "I'm afraid of what might be happening to her at home."

"What do you mean?" Monty asked. "At home?"

"Jeanne was at the Giddon place the other night— My God! Was it just last night?" She shook her head. "Anyway, ever since Momma died, Dad had—well, he's been looking at Jeanne in—that way, you know? I'm almost certain he's gotten to her, sexually. This was probably his plan all along. But maybe it isn't too late - for her. If I can reach her and talk to her, maybe I can save her. If I have to, I'll use my fists and beat the hell out of her."

Viv looked horrified. "You mean your father has been having sexual relations with his own
daughter?
That's disgusting!"

"Goes on a lot more than you might think, honey," Monty told her. "And not just between father and daughter. Mother and son, as well. Sometimes mother with daughter, father with son. One report given us at the NYPD stated that only a very small percentage of incest cases are ever reported to the authorities."

"People who do that ought to be horse-whipped," Joe said. He sighed heavily, as if suddenly plunged deep into thought. "I guess I got to do it, and it ain't gonna get done 'less I do her, so I might as well get rollin' on it." He stood up.

"Where are you going, Joe?" Mille asked.

"I got to go see if Nellie is really one of—them other people. Maybe it ain't too late for her."

"I think," Monty said, "we should decide something right now. And it's a whale of a big decision. Are we staying or leaving?"

"I'm stayin'," Joe said flatly. "There ain't no son-of-a-bitch runnin' this ol' Kentucky boy out of his home. I'm stayin' and I'm fightin'." He glanced at Mille.

"I'm staying," the young woman announced. "This is my home town and I've got family here to look after. I can shoot a pistol as good as any man and I'll use a gun if I have to. Count me in."

"I wonder about Ginny?" Monty asked.

"Ginny is in no shape to make any kind of decision," Mille replied. "But she told me just a few minutes ago, she was no coward. That she wanted to help in any way she could. So I guess that means she's staying."

"Well, you can certainly count on my standing firm," Noah told the group. "I learned the hard way about attempting to kill Old Nick, but his followers—most of them—are mortal, and can therefore be killed. And that is something that should have been done around here several years ago. I am staying."

"I don't like all this talk about killing," Monty said, the lawman rising up in him. He looked at Noah. "Even though I can understand your feelings on the matter. And it might come to that."

"It will," Sam said, a coldness to his voice. "And you can bet on that."

"Maybe," Monty said. He glanced at his wife.

She met his gaze. "I believe the man said, 'For better or for worse,' did he not?"

"I can assure all of you," Father Le Moyne spoke quietly. "Conditions will become a lot worse."

"Figured one of you would have to say that," Joe announced glumly.

SEVEN

Father Le Moyne accompanied Joe and Mille. They would first visit Joe's wife, and then check on Mille's sister. Monty issued all the people Logandale P.D. handy-talkies, enabling them to keep in constant communication. The walkie-talkies had a range of about five miles; strong enough for the limited area they were confined within.

Viv went in to check on Ginny. She was sleeping deeply, the sleep very much like a coma. Mille had said the young woman spooked easily, and the events of that afternoon had taxed her to the limits.

Late afternoon shadows were dotting the land, creating an aura that under different circumstances would have been labeled a lovely late fall afternoon. Now it only served to heighten the dread of coming night for the small band of men and women who still believed in God Almighty and His words concerning right and wrong.

"Just for kicks," Monty said, "I'd like to see just how far 1 could drive outside of town."

"Don't," Noah warned him. "You might not be allowed to reenter. And we need all the Christians we can muster for this battle."

His wife settled the short debate. "You stay here with me, Monty. We agreed to stay together and that's the way it's going to be."

"Yes, honey," Monty said.

Dusk began to subtly but swiftly place her dark arms around the town. The murky embrace was welcomed by those who looked to Satan for leadership. It was received with much less joy by those outside the circles of the coven.

"What can we expect?" Viv asked Nydia. The women were sitting in the kitchen, drinking coffee and chatting. And waiting.

"Expect anything your mind could conjure in its darkest moments," Nydia replied. She then spoke quietly, telling the woman of her experiences in Falcon House; of her being raped by her stepfather in the casket, while Sam, believing her dead, was being seduced by Roma, Nydia's mother. She left nothing out.

Viv shuddered, as if experiencing the chilly touch of death and throwing it away from her. "1 used to enjoy reading horror stories. The scarier the better; especially on a stormy night. I never dreamt I would be actually living through the real thing." She toyed with her coffee mug. "That is,
if
any of us live through it."

Nydia rose and refilled their cups. "It isn't too late for you and Monty and most of the others to leave," she reminded the older woman. "It's Father Le Moyne, Noah, Sam, Little Sam, and me they want. We could hot leave."

"Don't think I haven't thought of it," Viv admitted. "A lot. But something within me said No! And I've had time to think about that. It's a test of faith, isn't it, Nydia?"

"Yes. It all comes down to that. But it's so much more, too."

Viv thought about that for a moment. "Yes. It is. I can see that, now. But is one little town in Upstate New York so important?"

"Not really. As Sam tried to explain, this is a game. A game that has been going on for—well, forever, I suppose. I don't think being a Christian is nearly as easily accomplished as a great many people believe. I don't believe—and neither does Sam—that a person can sin all their life, then at the moment of death, be relieved of all those sins. I think a person must work terribly hard, all their life, to be a true Christian. And I think—I know—there will be a great many people very disappointed on Judgment Day."

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