The door swung open. Mary lunged and drove the piece of gla.s.s into the right eye of Nurse Somerlott. She fell backward, not uttering a sound as the long piece of gla.s.s entered her brain. Mary jerked out the long piece of gla.s.s and tossed a blanket over the nurse's face so her uniform wouldn't get all b.l.o.o.d.y.

Mary had plans for that uniform. Trouble was, she thought, pausing, she couldn't remember where those plans came from.

Oh, well. No matter.

She stripped off the nurse's uniform and pulled her own shapeless sack of a dress off. The nurse's uniform was almost a perfect fit. Mary pulled Nurse Somerlott onto the bed and covered her up. She took the ring of keys and slipped out into the hall. Mary walked back to the nurse's station and punched the b.u.t.ton that would unlock all the doors in this wing. Then she walked to the pipes running up the wall and turned off the water supply to the sprinkler system.

She was so smart! smart! Mary congratulated herself. She wasn't crazy; she was just brilliant. Mary congratulated herself. She wasn't crazy; she was just brilliant.

Then she ran from room to room with her box of matches, setting the blankets and curtains on fire. Then she locked all the doors and just ...

slipped into Nurse Somerlott's coat and ...

walked out the back door.

She could hardly keep from hopping and skipping and jumping as she walked to near the front gate, hiding in the bushes, waiting for the fire trucks. She knew that when the fire trucks came there would be lots and lots of confusion. She also knew from years of listening to the nurses talk among themselves, that the doctors almost never took their keys out of their cars. No need to. The doctors' parking area was well lighted and right in front of the guards' station. It had been almost thirty years since Mary had driven a car, but she thought she could still drive.

She looked at the building. Lovely fire was all over one wing. It was so pretty. She would have loved to stay around and listen to all those crazy b.i.t.c.hes scream and holler as they burned to death.

But, she thought with a sigh, she had work to do, and one's work must come first.

Bonnie Rogers sat on her front porch with her cats, and gazed up at the moon. So pretty when it was full. And deadly.

She had waited for almost thirty years for this moment. Now it was almost time. She touched the cross that hung around her neck on a long chain, nestling warm against her flesh, just above her full b.r.e.a.s.t.s.

The cross hung upside down.

She rose abruptly and walked back inside her house. Her house was pitch-black but the woman moved through it as if it were as light as noonday. Bonnie needed no light to see at night-night was her time. She shunned die light, hating it, fearing it.

She went into a large room at the rear of what had been her parents' house. Except for some bra.s.s cups and other ornately decorated bra.s.sware, the room was empty. The drapes were of heavy black velvet. Bonnie knelt in the center of a large circle, painted on the bare wooden floor, and began praying. But her prayers were not directed Heavenward.

"Oheh, Oheh," she chanted, beginning her invocation against Cod.

She chanted long, the sweat breaking out on her face, dripping down and dampening the inner circle.

"The earth is damp, surroundings cold. "The earth is damp, surroundings cold.

Hear me now, speak these words of old.

Soon thy corpse will stir the mud, To rise, and walk, and suck the blood."

Bonnie collapsed, in a trance, within the circle.

Margie turned in her sleep and put one arm out, expecting to find her husband there.

Her arm hit the cold bottom sheet and she came awake.

"Dave?" she whispered.

Her only reply was the hum of the air conditioner.

She slipped from the bed and put on a house coat, sliding her feet into house slippers. She walked through the ranch-style home, walking silently, not calling out for her husband, her eyes searching the darkness. Then she glanced out the sliding gla.s.s doors leading to the patio.

The moon was shining brightly in all its lush fullness.

Then she spotted her husband.

Dave was standing naked in the backyard, his arms outstretched. His head was thrown back, face to the full moon.

"What the h.e.l.l?" she muttered.

She was much closer to the truth than she could realize.

She slipped to the kitchen window, trying to get a better look at her husband's face, for he appeared to be saying something.

Yes. His lips were moving; she could see that in the moonlight.

But who was he talking to?

And what was he saying?

Softly, silently, she opened the window above the sink. Dave's words drifted to her on the soft spring air.

"Air, water, fire, and earth," he said. "Combine the elements and make me change."

Change into ... what? Margie thought.

"Three times I shall say these words," Dave said. "On the night of the third day, I shall change forever, and I shall be one with all things. The air, the water, the fire, and the earth."

Then Dave hissed, the hissing loud enough for Margie to hear. Her fingers gripped the edges of the sink.

The yard seemed to flood with cats, of all sizes and colors. They slinked about, rubbing against her husband's bare ankles.

She watched in horrified fascination.

"Hear me, Satanachia, and carry my words to Bofocale!" Dave called out.

"Who?" Margie whispered.

Her husband whirled around, facing the rear of the house. The cats turned, their eyes glowing in the reflection from the moon.

Her husband and the cats began moving toward the kitchen window.

Margie fainted, hitting the tiled floor and not moving.

And Bob Savoie lay in his moulding casket and heard nor saw anything.

Yet.

9.

Don and Rita drove past R. M.'s house first. Both cars were parked in the garage. The house was dark.

"Maybe R. M.'s at Romy's?" Rita suggested.

"Don't bet on it," Don replied.

They drove to Romy's house. All the cars were there, and the house was just as dark as R. M.'s had been.

"Now what?" Rita asked.

"Nothing," Don said sourly. "I take you back to your unit, and then I go home and try to get some sleep."

He picked up his mike and said, "Seven to B-1."

"Go ahead seven," Sonny's voice came from the speaker.

."Like you said, Sonny. Everything is dark at both places."

"Now what?"

"We pull their b.u.t.ts in after breakfast. You game for that?"

"d.a.m.n right!" Sonny spoke without hesitation. "I want to get to the bottom of this."

"See you in a few hours."

'Ten-four."

"But don't they realize what that nut might do?" Rita asked.

"I don't think they care, Rita. But I'll bet a month's pay on this: R. M. has covered his back trail. I been doing some thinking on it, Rita. You see, up until not too many years ago, it was easy to commit someone to a bug house. Practically nothing to it. Hasn't been that long since the legislature changed the procedure. You remember what Romy told us a few minutes ago? About Jackson being admitted?"

"Yeah. He said that according to his father's notes, the sheriff was the one who took care of it."

"That's right. The sheriff, and Chief Borley. According to what Dr. Livaudais had written, Jack Dorg was a drifter who went off his nut in this parish. h.e.l.l, I was just a little boy when that took place. The sheriff told the people at the inst.i.tution that Dorg's family had been contacted and they had agreed to pay for keeping him down here. And you can bet your boots on something Rita: there is no way we, or anybody else, will ever be able to connect the Dorgenois family with that money sent to the inst.i.tution for Jackson's care."

"I tend to agree with you."

"So tomorrow, Rita, I'm going to gather up some people I can trust, and start beating the bushes. And when we find Jackson Dorgenois, I'm going to try to take m alive. If I can't ... what happens next is Jackson's tough luck."

"Hey, girl!" Dave said, bathing Margie's face with a cold cloth.

She opened her eyes and looked at him. He was dressed in pajama bottom and T-shirt, his usual bedtime attire.

"What happened to you, Margie?"

The sight of him standing naked amid dozens of cats returned to her. "What happened to me?" me?"

He grinned at her. "Yeah. Did you fall? Faint? What?"

"Dave," she said. "Where have you been?"

"Margie, I've been in bed. I woke up, flopped my arm over on your side, and you were gone. I came looking and found you down here, on the floor. Like to have scared me out of my wits."

"G.o.d, what a nightmare I must have had. Hold me, Dave?"

"Sure, baby." He pulled her close.

Must have been a hideous nightmare, she thought. It had to have been.

Oh, G.o.d! she silently prayed. Please let it be nothing more than that.

She didn't look at his bare feet. Had she done that she might not have wanted Dave to hold her.

His feet were filthy, and covered with gra.s.s stains.

"Come on, baby," Dave said. "Let's go to bed. You've had a rough night."

Sam fixed his breakfast, leaving Nydia sleeping. After eating, he carried a cup of coffee out to the screened in back porch and sat down, enjoying both the view the bayou offered and the loveliness of new dawn.

Sam felt that matters would soon be reaching their boiling point in Becancour. He didn't know how he knew that, but he sensed the truth in it.

Nydia came out to join him.

"Did I wake you?" Sam asked.

"No. I woke up thinking the first day has pa.s.sed us."

"You want to explain that?"

"What number do you usually a.s.sociate with the Dark One, Sam?"

"Six."

"I asked Mr. Fontenot what was the population of Becancour. Three thousand six hundred and sixty-six."

"Six sixty-six."

'Yes. And he said it has not changed in more years than he could remember. He said people around here don't think much about it. Just one of those things, he said."

"And you think whatever is going to happen will happen in six days?"