she moved close to him, putting one arm across his bare chest, just above the burn that signified the Everlasting Cross on his flesh.
"Sam?" she whispered, her mouth close to his ear.
"Umm?" he stirred, pulling out of sleep, opening his eyes to look at her through eyes of love.
"I have an idea."
"Now?" his eyes widened.
"Oh, Sam! Not that. I want us to get married."
It took a moment for that to register with him. He finally cocked his head on the pillow and blinked rapidly several times. "Say again."
"You heard me." She lifted herself up on one elbow and stared down at him, thick strands of long silken hair shading one side of her face.
"Nydia … I mean, how? Who would perform the ceremony? I really doubt we could leave this house … or at least the immediate grounds. We'd have to leave …"
She shushed him with a soft kiss. "They have JPs in your country that marry people; judges and the like. They aren't ministers, so what makes them any better than you?"
"Me! This is weird, Nydia. And certainly illegal."
"I'm not concerned with moral law, Sam. And I'm really not sure it would be acceptable in the eyes of God—probably not. I just want the words, from you and from me … from out of our hearts. So let's get cleaned up, get dressed, and go into the timber and get married. Now!"
Sam knew, with only the knowledge reasonably intelligent men possess concerning their limited understanding of women, that it would be best not to argue. Just get up and follow orders.
He is pleased,"' Roma spoke to Falcon over coffee in her quarters. "Our Master said he was most happy with the way matters are proceeding."
"Are you with child?"
"Yes. I can feel the demon growing."
"When will you birth?"
"On the sixth day of the sixth week, precisely on the sixth hour."
"How prophetic. The Mark of the Beast. 666. And your chances, my dear?"
"None. I will die for the Master; the demon will live forever. As Black was meant to be and do. But I failed there.
"I am … admittedly unknowledgeable on such matters; they occur so rarely. How is 'forever' possible?"
"A demon … have you never seen one, Falcon?"
He shook his head. "Not on earth."
"… They are of and for the Devil. Protected by him. Only a holy child, born in the same time frame, from the same father can kill the Master's son. And since you battered Nydia's cunt so well, the odds of that happening are infinitesimally minute."
"The same time frame?" Falcon looked confused.
"666. Day, week, month, or minute."
"But not necessarily at precisely the same moment as your birthing?"
"That is correct."
Falcon was thoughtful for a few seconds. "It is reasonable to assume Balon's boy-child of love coupled with Nydia last night?"
"1 would think so. But your seed is much more powerful, Falcon; older, with the strength of the Master. No … I think she is with a demon child."
Falcon was not so certain, but he hid his doubts. He changed the subject. "There was an … intruder in the house last evening. I am very much surprised you did not sense the presence."
"An intruder, Falcon?"
The warlock's only reply was to lift his eyes upward.
"You are certain?"
"As certain as I know Nydia's cunt was tight."
The mother took no umbrage to his statement. "Male or female?"
"Male. A warrior."
The witch and the warlock looked at each other, gazes all knowing, holding. "So he has slipped out again." It was not a question from Roma.
"It's been many years since that one took any direct action on earth," Falcon said. "Jeanne d'Arc."
"That we know of," Roma corrected him. "I don't like this; that one has bested our Master on more than one occasion."
"Don't let him hear you say that. You know how our Prince hates the warrior."
"There can be no mistakes this time, Falcon. I must get Nydia and leave this place. The demons must be birthed. We can't take a chance on staying."
Falcon's face showed his concern … and something else. Roma read the silent worry lines.
"What, Falcon?"
"My dear … I don't believe we can leave—any of us—until it is concluded. The Master might make an exception for you, taking into consideration your condition. But the rest of us …" He left it at that.
"What are you babbling about?"
He shook his handsome head. "Not babble, Roma. I spoke with the Dark One's emissary early this morning, just before dawn. She told me that Whitfield is cut off; no escape. All is lost except