Sam returned the grin. "Well ... I'll have to keep my door locked then. I know how difficult it is to be a s.e.x symbol-been one all my life."

Nydia rolled her eyes in mock awe. "Oh, my! I didn't know I was in such celebrated company. Perhaps you'd better keep your door locked. I might try to break it down, l.u.s.ting after your body."

"In that case," Sam feigned great haste in digging into his jeans pocket, "let me give you the key."

Laughing, they stepped closer to each other. They stood for a moment, content to look into the other's eyes. Finally, Sam said, "I certainly am glad Black invited me up here."

"I certainly am glad you came." Something clouded her dark eyes. "Sam? Be careful in this house."

"What do you mean?"

"I ... don't know how to explain it. But," she bit at her lower lip, "sometimes guests are ... changed, sort of. In a very strange kind of way. Spooky. I've seen it happen many times over the years. Watch out for the unexpected."

That feeling of foreboding suddenly became much more intense.

Both the young people whirled as the door opened behind them. Roma stood looking at them. "I could not help overhearing," she said. "You will find, Sam, that my daughter has a very active imagination. She desires to become a fiction writer, and I think she sometimes has difficulty separating fact from fiction." She held out a hand to her daughter. "Come, dear. Let's not be rude and prevent our guest from taking his rest."

Sam caught a flicker of something very close to contempt in Nydia's eyes. "Of course, Mother." She glanced at Sam. "See you in an hour or so. Perhaps you'd enjoy a swim before c.o.c.ktails? We have an indoor pool and a selection of trunks in case Black forgot to tell you to bring a suit."

"He did. And I'd love a swim."

"I'll tap on your door in about an hour. That door." She pointed to the connecting door between their rooms, then glared openly and defiantly at her mother.

The woman left, with Roma closing the door, flashing a brief smile at Sam. A smile that left Sam guessing at its true content. But Sam, like his father, although not to the degree of the elder Balon, was worldly, and he thought he knew what was behind that smile.

Should be an interesting week, he thought. He stretched out on the bed and was asleep in three minutes, sleeping the deep sleep of a young person at the very pinnacle of health and physical conditioning.

He dreamed of a strange-looking medallion but could not bring the relief of the medal into clear focus. In his dream, Sam questioned where he had seen the medallion. Then it came to him: around the necks of Black and his mother. Some sort of family crest, he imagined. And he pushed the dream from him and slept.

And as he slept, the cross around his neck, the cross that had belonged to his father, began to glow in the darkness of the room. It seemed to pulse with life.

Roma and Nydia in bikinis was just about more than Sam could take. Several times the young man had to hit the water of the pool to cool his emotions, throttling an uncomfortable stiffness.

Roma (she had to be in her mid to late forties, at least, Sam thought) had the body of a twenty-year-old, without any sign of aging, no sagging, no marks of age. She was truly astonishing. Both mother and daughter were absolute, sheer, flawless, physical perfection, and Sam's eyes greedily drank in their beauty whenever he felt it was safe to do so without being obvious. Although several times he got the impression they were both parading for his benefit. Neither Black nor Falcon were poolside, and Sam asked Roma about that while Nydia lapped the pool.

"Oh, they're discussing some ... financial matters, I'm sure," she said, smiling. "Unearthly as far as I'm concerned. Neither of them care for swimming; they prefer riding or fencing. Both are quite good with the rapier. Do you fence, Sam?"

"No, ma'am."

She laughed. "Ma'am? Really, Sam. That makes me feel positively ancient. Roma, please." She cut her eyes and visually traveled over the young man's body, lingering at his crotch. Yes, she thought, just like his father: amply endowed.

Sam felt he was being mentally raped.

He was.

Sam cleared his throat. "May I ask a personal question, Roma?"

"You may ask anything you wish, Sam."

Okay, lady, he thought. How about you and me finding the nearest bed and getting it on?

Then he was aware of a burning sensation in the center of his chest, right where his cross usually lay.

Roma smiled. "I'm also mildly psychic, young man."

"Oh, boy," Sam muttered.

"Really, I'm flattered, Sam. It's quite nice that a handsome young man-certainly young enough to be my son-would desire me."

"You're not angry with me for thinking that?" Again, that strange burning sensation in the center of his chest.

"Don't be silly. I can't imagine a woman who would be angry."

"How do you do that? I mean, read people's minds?"

"Was that the personal question you were going to ask?"

"No, ma'am. I mean, Roma."

"You were going to ask how I managed to stay so young-looking."

"d.a.m.n," he muttered. "I'm really going to have to control my thoughts."

"I was born in Rumania, Sam. A ... well, a few years ago," she laughed. "I have a mixture of races in me, and my mother was astonishingly beautiful." (She was, five hundred years ago, when Roma, christened Nydia, was born). "My mother was over a hundred years old when she died. And still quite attractive." (And begging for her life while Nydia the Witch bludgeoned her to death, laughing as she did so). "I really take no special care of my body, other than to exercise daily and watch my diet."

With that, she rose from the poolside lounger and executed a clean, graceful dive into the water just as her daughter was walking toward them, rubbing her hair with a thick towel. Sam watched her stride toward him: like her mother, ripe perfection. And, like her mother, dressed in a bikini that scarcely covered all the essentials.

"My mother is quite a woman, isn't she?" Nydia asked, sitting down and catching her breath from her laps in the huge pool. Steam rose in light upward exhalations from the heated water.

"At least that, Nydia. I would think Falcon would be extremely jealous of her."

"Did she come on to you, Sam? Sure, she did," she said, not giving him time to answer the question. "Oh, they both do what they want to do. Have their little affairs. I've known about them both for years."

"Why do I get the feeling you and your mother don't get along?"

"Because it's true. We're civil to each other-most of the time-but we stopped being friends a long time ago."

"Care to talk about it?"

"Later. Here comes the never-aging s.e.xpot."

Sam shook his head at the acid in Nydia's remark.

"Nydia's been going to a church," Black said to Falcon. The men sat in the study, the heavy doors closed.

"I know it, so does Roma. There is nothing we can do about it. For several reasons. But we know He has been meddling."

"But why? I thought the rules ..."

Falcon cut him off with a wave of his hand; a curt slash of impatience. "The Masters make the rules, each knowing they can break them at will. If, really, any rules do exist, which I more and more doubt. But nevertheless, we are required to follow what our individual Master dictates. And don't ask questions. What goes on in the minds of the two Supreme Beings is beyond the grasp of even us. When are the others arriving?"

"Tomorrow. Noon. I arranged for a helicopter to bring them in."

"Balon's b.a.s.t.a.r.d know of their coming?"

"No. Neither does Nydia."

Falcon brooded for a time, his dark features unreadable. "You feel ... how many to be ready converts?"

"Ten. Five young men, five young women. The others are for our mutual enjoyment. Two young men, four young women."

"Leave the men for Roma. We'll share the women. They are young?"

"And tender."

"Lovely?"

"Beautiful."

"Virgins?"

"I think ... possibly three. Susan is curious of our Master. She will be an easy convert, and an easier f.u.c.k. But one of them I know is pure. She is the one I picked for you.

Both men laughed, the chuckling evil. "Problems should they vanish?"

"By that time it will be over and done with, bon?"

"Oui. Balon's b.a.s.t.a.r.d is to be Roma's ... exclusively. You understand that?"

"Yes, Falcon. Unless she tells me differently."

"You may have to kill your sister, Black. Or, on a more pleasant note, plant your seed within her. Does either prospect disturb you?"

The young warlock shrugged his reply.

"Good. You are your mother's child. Well, now ... a full nine days." He smiled, the smile as corrupt as his heart was dark. "I am looking forward to the time."

The hot wind picked up, rousing Jane Ann from a fitful sleep. Tony had not returned. She opened her eyes and gasped in fright when she saw the mist at the foot of the bed.

The mist began to change, to take some shape, and her fright turned into a mixture of relief and joy. Jane Ann smiled.

"I will do what I can to help," the voice said, beating a silent message inside her head. "But I don't know how much He will allow me to do. I am rather a maverick within the Kingdom."

"Oh, Sam!"

"Let me finish. You have lost half of all you once loved, Balon flung his message. "And I can tell you no more than that. Help Miles and Wade while you can. In the end, it will be up to you and the clay man. But more weight will be put on your shoulders, your faith."

She did not understand. "Tony? He is the half I have lost?"

"I can tell you no more at this time."

Jane Ann knew then that her suspicions had been correct. Tony had gone to the other side. "Our son?"

"He will be tempted, and he will fall from grace more than once during the next nine days. But I can do little to help. I will attempt to see him, perhaps attempt to write to him. I ... think he will find an unexpected ally coming forward. But my place is with you, and at the end, you will have a choice to make."

And Jane Ann knew what that choice would be.

"Don't be too hasty in your decision." Balon hurled the warning. "You have many, many good years ahead of you. You don't have to do this."

"I must."

"Once you have decided, the only alternative is to accept the Dark One's offer."

"I will never do that. I love you, Sam. I want to be with you.

"I must go now," Balon projected. "Be careful."

The mist began to disperse, becoming shapeless, formless. Then one slim tentacle of mist broke from the vapor and moved down the side of the bed to touch Jane Ann on the cheek. Then the mist was gone. She put her hand to her cheek: the spot was damp. Soon her tears had kissed the touch of love that endured ... of life after death.

Dinner had been quite an event, the setting something Sam had heretofore witnessed only in the movies. The meal had been served in courses, and the coffee the best he had ever tasted.

"Mother owns land in Columbia," Black explained. "We have the beans flown in and grind them ourselves."

Falcon was very polite throughout the meal, but not given to much conversation. He and Black excused themselves after dinner and went into the study, closing the door. Nydia said she was going to bed and would see Sam in the morning.

The look Nydia fired at Sam was full of warning. And Sam did not really understand it ... at least he tried to convince himself of that.

Roma rose from her chair and held out her hand. "Come, Sam, walk with me. The night air will do us good."

He held her wrap and was conscious of the heady perfume wafting into his nostrils. He was grateful when they stepped out into the cold night air of the terrace.

"Tell me about yourself, Sam," she said, standing very close to him.

"Not that much to tell. I'm twenty-one. Went right into the army out of high school. Did my time, and glad I did. Here I am."

"You and Black have a lot in common. Black and Nydia were born in March 1959."

"So was I. Where were they born, Roma?"

"Rumania."

"I thought that country was under communist control."

"I travel wherever and whenever I choose, Sam. My investments are worldwide. Tell me about your father."

"I never knew him. He died before I was born. My mother married a doctor before I was born. He delivered me. Doctor Tony King."

"But you always knew this King person was not your father?"