"I wondered where you had gotten off to," Sam spoke, oblivious to the others looking at him, listening to the one-sided conversation.

"I have been busy. Now hear me, young one: you must be on guard, but you need not fear the evil forces as much as you believe. I will take care of those spawns of hell. They will harass you, worry you, but they won't harm you—if you remain careful and maintain your faith."

"You mean, I can kill them, but they can't kill me, or us?"

"I didn't say that."

Sam sighed, an exasperating expulsion of breath, "Riddles again, huh?"

"Only if you believe they are riddles."

"Study your words, huh?"

"That is correct."

"Is it against the policy of … Him for you to come right out and say things in an understandable fashion?"

"How like your father you are."

"You hedged the question."

"Correct. Young warrior," the voice held a slight note of puzzlement. "I have spoken to many mortals over these thousands of years, but you baffle me."

"How?"

"You aren't afraid of me."

"Why should I be? You're on my side, aren't you?"

And if that force that sits by the right hand of God, that force of all that is good and pure and just, could chuckle, it did. "Confidence is good, of course, all great warriors must possess it, but don't allow it to cloud your judgment."

"I don't intend to do that. But I will tell you this much: as soon as I get some sign from you, or the feeling is right—whatever—I'm goin' to Falcon House and kill every swinging di … uh … everybody in there."

Again, Sam got the impression the mighty voice was laughing.

"With the jawbone of an ass?"

"Did that really happen?"

"In a manner of speaking, certainly."

Sam held up the Thompson. "I'll start with this … no telling what I might end up with, though."

"Live a good, strong, healthy, productive life, offspring of Sam Balon. And when your time on earth is over, I will personally welcome you home."

"My time on earth could very well be short."

"That is entirely possible."

"Tell me something."

"If it is permitted."

"Am I really speaking with you? Are you Michael? And will I remember any of this—if I get out alive, that is?"

"You ask probing questions, young warrior. Inquiries I am forbidden to answer."

"I won't ask why."

"Wise of one so young."

"Instead I'll ask this: when do I start my mission?"

"You have wards to look after, lives in your care. A flock, if you will. But remember this: sometimes a wolf may disguise itself to enter the flock. And a cabin of evil may sometimes be turned into a fortress of truth. If you desire, you may begin whenever you are ready." The voice faded away.

"Sam?" Nydia said, watching the young man she loved get to his feet. "What are you going to do?"

"Start a war," he said quietly.

THURSDAY MORNING

The weather had held for the good, and they rested and slept on ground sheets, in sleeping bags. Sam had talked long into the night with Nydia, with her asking all the voice had said.

"There is only one cabin on our land," she told him. "That I know of, and I think I would know of any others. That's several miles north of the house. Falcon had it built. It's quite cozy."

Sam glanced at the sun peeking through the tall timber. "If we head due west, we should hit the cabin. With any luck," he added.

"You think that's what the voice was saying?"

"Honey, I just don't know. I've studied his words, over and over. That's the only thing I can think of. As for that bit about a fortress of truth … I don't know."

"Well … I'm ready anytime you are," she said.

He grinned at her.

"No way," she said, verbally tossing cold water on him.

"Ever since we witnessed that … display in the Heavens, Ralph, you've been moody. Out of sorts. What's the matter, honey?"

"You remember I went into town the next morning?"

"Yes."

"Well, I made some phone calls; I made about a dozen phone calls. Charged them on our credit card." He grinned ruefully. "Our phone bill next month should be a real doozie. I called four stargazers in America, one in Canada, the rest overseas and in South America." He looked at his wife. When he again spoke, his words were soft. "All that activity we watched: the sky changing colors, the plumes of dirty … smoke—whatever it was; those odd, unexplainable occurrences … everything. Betty, we were the only ones to have witnessed anything unusual that night. The only ones in … this … world!"

"That's impossible," she protested. "Ralph, it went on for more than an hour! Somebody, somewhere, has to have seen it."

He solemnly shook his head. "No one I spoke with. And I talked with the best people in the business."

"1 … don't understand, Ralph. We certainly didn't dream what we witnessed. That was a heavenly phenomenon unequalled … well, by anything I've ever seen or read of. I'm sorry the camera malfunctioned and we didn't get it."

"If the camera malfunctioned," he said. "Remember, the film I shot back at the observatory came out blank, as well.''

"The people you talked with … could they be holding back? Deliberately holding back? Maybe to do a paper on the sightings?"

"I thought of that with the first two I spoke with," he admitted. "But a dozen people? No." He sighed. "So, that brings it right back to us."

She sat beside him, taking his hands in hers. "You weren't alone in seeing that … sighting several days before this one."

"No."

"Why then and not last evening?"

Ralph was silent for a moment; reflective in his quiet musings. "Don't think me a fool for saying this, Betty, and rest assured you will be the only person to ever hear this from my lips, but … all right, charge ahead and get it said.

"Betty … we're Christians. Maybe not the best in the world, but we do try. We're believers, let's call it. So perhaps what I witnessed previously … no, not perhaps—I know I saw the face of God. It was magnificent … holy … even though He appeared to be quarreling with … somebody … something. What we witnessed the other night … well, have you given any thought to that being … from the other world?"

"What other world, Ralph?"

"Hell."

By noon, Sam had brought in enough wood to last the women several days. There was plenty of oil for the lamps, candles should they need them, and ample fuel for the portable stoves and lanterns. He took a can of that for his own use. There was plenty of canned food in the cabin. There was no more Sam could do, but he was hesitant to leave the warmth and safety of the cabin … even more hesitant to leave Nydia. Looking at her, sitting quietly in a chair by the fire, Sam realized just how much he loved her, and knew that that love—right or wrong, morally—was growing each day.

She met his tender gaze. "It's time for you to go, Sam."

"I know."

"We'll be all right," she said. "We have weapons, and 1 know how to use them. And," she blinked away sudden tears, "you have a job to do. Time is growing short, I believe."

"Yes," he agreed, still reluctant to leave.

"I packed the holy water as carefully as I could. You're sure you have everything else you'll need?"

He nodded his head.

"I love you, Sam."

"And I love you, Nydia."

"Go with God," she said, her voice breaking.

Without looking back, Sam opened the door and stepped out into the cold air. He quietly closed the door behind him, jacked a round into the chamber of the old Thompson, slipped the SMG on safety, and walked down the path, heading toward Falcon House. The young man had a mission few would envy.

To meet the Devil.

A thousand miles away, the Coven was resting in and around Whitfield. The members, hundreds of them, were, to a person, exhausted after a night of debauchery, torture, and depravity. Their clothing reeked of filth and sin, for none among them had bathed in a week. The stink of the Devil worshipers and the smell of rotting flesh hung over the town like an ominous cloud called into being from the drum and cannon of a depraved rainmaker. The Coven members lay in sleep where they had fallen in exhaustion, stinking breathing heaps of wickedness … who would soon learn the awesome furious power of God's retributive wrath toward those who serve another Master.