The Devil's Heart Part 23

That set him back. A grin creased his mouth, then he was roaring with laughter. He reached into his jacket pocket and removed a handkerchief made of the finest linen, wiping his eyes. "So, Lana, dear, Black badly misjudged you, eh?"

"Black is an idiot, and you know it."

"Only too well, my dear. I thought I had you convinced the other evening."

"You were wrong. A lot of people usually are about me. But that doesn't answer my question."

"I was under the impression you were a devout Christian."

"I still have my virginity, Falcon, but as far as me being a Christian ... I used to j.a.c.k.-.o.f.f. the preacher back home."

That startled Falcon, and the warlock was not easily jarred. "I beg your pardon?"

"Yeah, his wife didn't like s.e.x, and he'd had the hots for me since I was about eleven. So we made a deal. I'd give him a hand job several times a week and he'd give me money. More money for a b.l.o.w. .j.o.b."

"You might have difficulty doing that with me."

"Sucking you off, you mean?"

"Crudely put, but correct."

"n.o.body's that big."

His smile told her she was wrong.

"May I see?"

"By all means."

She opened his trousers and hissed at the sight, wrapping her soft fingers around the organ. "You'd make some of those p.o.r.n stars look like babies. You really expect to stick all that into me?"

"That I do, my dear." He reached into an inside pocket and removed a medallion and gold chain. "This one is a bit different from the others. Much more intricate in detail. If you'll be so kind as to release your grip from my p.e.n.i.s, dear, I'll get a magnifying gla.s.s and you can see for yourself."

She removed her hand from his p.e.n.i.s. "I'll take your word for it, Falcon. But you still have not answered my question."

"I think you know the answer, Lana. Let's not be coy. After this half-hour of conversation, I feel I know you rather well. I don't believe your thoughts have been pristine and Christian for years. I don't believe you give one whit for any Christian G.o.d; so what does that leave you?"

"You're pretty sharp, Falcon."

"More than you know, Lana. And were I you, I'd bear that in mind."

"What do I have to do to get into your church ... whatever you call it?"

"Put this medallion around your neck, renounce your G.o.d, and take the oath."

"That's it?"

"It's a one-way trip, my pretty."

"No returns, no exchanges," she stated.

"That's how uncomplicated it is. The Christian G.o.d is very unyielding about other G.o.ds, Lana, and quite specific about worshiping the Prince of Darkness."

"Big deal. I won't have to attend that stupid f.u.c.king college anymore?"

"No."

"I get a car of my choice, money, clothes, a place to live-a nice place?"

"All those things, dear."

"But it really means nothing to you, does it. Me, I mean."

His shrug was noncommittal.

"And you're not the only one I'll have to screw, right?"

"You'll understand once you become one of us, Lana."

She slipped the gold chain over her head, around her neck, the medallion gleaming dully between the mounds of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. "Oh, what the h.e.l.l," she said. "Tell me what I have to say."

The wailing had begun anew, with an added note of pain and horror that was increasingly difficult for Sam and Nydia to ignore.

Roma appeared at their open door, a smile on her red lips. "Her name is Janet," she said. "Such a pretty little thing. And Karl is holding up quite well for a man his age. He introduced himself to her pretty little p.u.s.s.y at first, now he is experimenting with the back door. I don't believe she's enjoying it very much, do you? Pity. I always have."

"I'll try it that way with you, Roma," Sam said, ignoring the sudden look of fright of Nydia's face.

"Oh?" the witch's face brightened.

"Yeah. But you're probably so wallowed out I'll have to tie a two by four on my a.s.s to keep from falling in."

Pure evil hate flickered in Roma's eyes. "You'll pay dearly for that remark, Sam."

"Yeah," Sam said, the word coming out slow and soft. "You're probably right. But my payment will not be the way you're thinking of it."

Roma grinned wickedly. "You see, Sam Balon King: already you are thinking about your sins against your Master and how you will be punished. Oh, Sam! Why are you fighting what you know you truly want in your heart? Sam, Sam. My Master doesn't disapprove of a brother-sister love affair. And you two are in love; that's evident for all to see." She walked across the room, sitting down in a chair. "What does your G.o.d offer you-either of you?" she looked at her daughter. "You want me to answer for you? I can a.s.sure you both, I know the Bible far better than either of you. I can quote you book, chapter, and verse." Without waiting for a reply, she said, "Read Leviticus, Chapter eighteen. Read it ... both of you, and see what His wrath will be."

Sam and Nydia sat quietly, listening to her.

"But my Master, children, oh, he is a far more forgiving Master than your G.o.d. And so much easier to obey.

"1 won't bore you or tempt you further, children. All I ask is that you both think about my words. Think about them while you two are lying in bed this night, close to each other, wanting each other, but fearful to touch. Fear, children, that's what your Master offers you ... and nothing else."

She was gone, simply vanishing before their eyes.

Nydia and Sam looked at each other, the unspoken question in their minds hanging like a shroud between them.

"Incredibly tight," Falcon muttered hotly. "I don't believe I've ever had a woman this tight." He seemed oblivious to the moanings of the young woman beneath him. He worked in another inch.

Lana screamed, attempting to push him away ... anything to ease the pain. But she succeeded only in aiding the man in his onward and inward conquest. Bright spots of blood dotted the whiteness of sheet beneath her nakedness.

The medallion between her sweaty b.r.e.a.s.t.s glowed faintly.

Falcon bent his head to touch his lips to hers. "Only a bit more, my dear, and then you will begin to enjoy our afternoon's tete-a-tete."

He hunched and she screamed.

There is, Falcon mused with a smile, nothing so lovely as a young lady receiving her first taste of c.o.c.k ... especially if the c.o.c.k is large enough to produce wails of pain.

Lana bit her lip and wept in pain.

On his knees, Falcon's hands on her hips, he pulled her to him, savoring her pleas for mercy. With one savage hunching motion, he finally pulled her to him, impaling her to the full extent as his eyes drank in her nakedness, enjoying her pain. He allowed her to rest for a moment as he viewed her.

Her once shiny blond hair was now matted from perspiration-induced pain; a trickle of sweat ran from her pulsing throat between her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. And such lovely b.r.e.a.s.t.s, he thought. High and firm and tipped with delicate roses. Ah, youth, he mused, fleeting and fickle in its brevity. Such a pity it is wasted on the young.

He said, "Did you know, my dear-of course not, how could you-that I had the largest c.o.c.k in all of Paris?"

"Take it out!" she screamed.

"Is it hurting you?" Falcon smiled.

"Yes!"

"Good." His smile widened. "It has been said that pain serves to enhance pleasure."

That said, Falcon withdrew from her and with one brutal thrust, rammed his thick length home.

Her screams echoed about the cabin in the woods.

That done, pleasured by her pain, Falcon began making love to her, gently, allowing her c.u.n.t to adjust to him, allowing the juices within her to flow, and it was not long before pleasure overwhelmed pain, and she began to whimper under a shivering climax.

"Do you love my Master?" Falcon asked.

"Yes!" she hissed.

Falcon settled into the rhythm that has become the oldest introduction of the species ... and the most pleasurable, and Lana groaned her welcome.

"Any other G.o.d but mine is s.h.i.t, Lana," he said.

"Yes," was her reply. "The Christian G.o.d is s.h.i.t!"

At his promptings, Lana repeated more d.a.m.ning words, the medallion between her b.r.e.a.s.t.s glowing its approval as more blasphemies rolled from her mouth, the words becoming filthy in content, raw obscenities from the lips of youth, from a heart now blackened forever by the soot from the ever-smoking pits of h.e.l.l. Her hands rubbed his naked flesh, taking pleasure and comfort from the hot flesh, working their way down his flat belly, into his hairy crotch, her fingers gently touching the beginnings of his thick root, now slick from her own juices.

And as he drove into her, each thrust a hammer blow of male density, roughly caressing the silkiness of female inner heat, the words from her mouth increased in number and profane impiety, until the room filled with the radiance from the medallion.

They thrashed on the damp sheets, each seeking -release, while Falcon encouraged Lana's verbal garbage, prompting her, pushing her past the point of no return, searing her flesh and filling her heart with painless invisible burning coals from his Master's kingdom in the netherworld.

"f.u.c.k G.o.d!" she screamed, as Falcon's meat of the Devil, a gift from the Dark One plummeted home. "All praise the Lord of Flies."

"I am his," Falcon urged.

"I am his!" she screamed.

And Falcon gently sank his teeth into her neck, painlessly sipping a few drops of her. And she was his. Not of this world. An event that Falcon had discreetly failed to mention would occur.

FIFTEEN.

"We'll have a full twenty-four hours to gather strength for the ordeal facing us," Sam said, the words seeming to leap from his mouth, as if a separate brain had taken full control.

"Why?" Nydia asked. "How do you know that?"

"Someone is telling me these things. And I don't feel inclined to question the source. Sunday is the one day the forces of Black Magic, Od, Satanists, whatever you choose to call them, can't move. Supposedly," he put a disclaimer on that. "That is G.o.d's day, and we'll probably be left alone." He fell moodily silent for a few moments.

"What are you thinking, Sam? I can't quite read you."

"Probably the same as you: how we're going to get out of this mess; how we're going to win it."

"You mean, if we're going to win it."

His eyes became alive with a fever she had never before witnessed. "No. Nydia, not if. We can't have doubts- ever. The instant we start doubting, and really dwell on those doubts, we're finished. If we start doing that, we may as well hang it up."

"I'm ... not as strong as you, Sam. I'm a newcomer to all this."

"What do you think I am?" His words were spoken much more harshly than intended.

Tears touched her eyes, rolling down her cheeks. "Don't be angry with me, Sam-please? I'll do whatever you tell me to do, but you've got to help me."

He sighed, taking her hands in his. "I'm sorry I snapped, honey. I'll die for you if I have to." And she knew he meant it. "I love you, Nydia. Even though I know it's wrong, and I'll-we'll-pay for it someday. I can't deny my love for you any more than I could deny my love and faith for the Lord G.o.d."

"Roma was right, you know. Our love is wrong, and G.o.d won't have it; He won't allow it to go unpunished."

"Let's get out of this ... mess first," he said grimly. "Then we'll worry about that."

"Worry about that tomorrow?" She forced a smile. "But where is Tara, Sam?"

"Wherever we choose to make it, honey. And we will make it-together."

"Promise me?"

"Yes." He spoke with renewed faith, renewed hope. "Yes, I promise."