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?"
"Oh, yes. They made that clear when I was old enough to understand. My dad was a minister. Big man."
In more ways than one, she thought. "But you never had the calling?"
"Me?" Sam laughed. "Oh, no. But I have worn dad's cross around my neck—all my life." He touched the center of his chest, feeling the outline of the cross.
Roma fought to keep herself from recoiling away from the young man. She remembered that cross very well: it had burned her several times while she and Sam Balon were grappling for control, prior to mating as they fought in circles through timeless, trackless space, neutral ground, ruled by no Master.
Roma shivered.
"Cold?" Sam touched her arm instinctively, protectively. At the touch, his chest began that strange burning, now much more intense.
"No," she said shortly. The mention of that damned cross driving all thoughts of sex from her. She moved away from his touch; the burning in the center of his chest ceased. "I must go," she moved toward the house. "I'll see you in the morning, Sam. Sleep well."
She was gone, the darkness of her gown fading into the night.
Footsteps echoed hollowly on the stone walkway leading from the yard. Sam turned. A tall, almost emaciated-looking man slowly made his way up to the terrace.
"Best you go in the house now, sir." The man spoke slowly, as if the act of speaking was painful.
"Why?"
"Because it is going to rain, and you are not dressed for the elements."
Sam looked up into the sky. Thousands of stars twinkled down at him. "But there isn't a cloud in the sky!"
"It will rain," the man insisted. "Soon."
"What's your name?" Sam asked.
"Perkins. Jimmy Perkins."
"Have you worked for the Williams long?"
"Years. Go in the house now." The man turned, and the night seemed to dissolve him.
Sam listened for the sound of fading footsteps. But none could be heard. The man appeared to have vanished.
Perkins? Sam thought. Now … where have I heard that name before?
Lying in his bed, conscious of Nydia in the next room, near but so far, just before sleep spread its gentle blanket over him, Sam was still musing over the tall man with the somehow familiar name.
And on the dresser, the cross glowed dully.
"Meddling!" Satan fired a dirty salvo into the Heavens. "Always meddling. Why can't you abide by the rules?"
"You are complaining about rules being broken, Asmodeus? How droll."
"We made an agreement—aeons ago. You rule the Heavens; I rule the