"Oh?" The smile did not leave her mouth.
"I feel as if I know you; as if we'd met before."
"Oh, I rather doubt it, Sam. You're such a handsome young … devil," she said laughing, "I would surely remember the event. We'll chat over drinks in a few hours. We have days to get acquainted." She turned and walked from the foyer, knowing full well Sam's eyes were on her body. Roma knew many things. Her mind was a storehouse of information—all evil.
Brazen witch! Nydia thought, fuming as she watched her mother parade from the room, hips slightly swaying. The contempt she felt for her mother almost boiled to the surface.
Careful, Mother, Black projected. Your cunt captured Sam Balon, but it failed to conquer him. And young Sam is truly his father's son. It is not worth losing a daughter to gain another conquest.
I know both your thoughts, Roma thrust to her son, the waves stopping Sam cold in his tracks, suspending him momentarily. And I know my daughter has begun to hate me. And I know why. He is interfering. He is breaking the rules of the game. I will have to speak with the Master.
The projections ceased. Sam shook his head. "Boy … that trip must have been more tiring than I thought. I was out of it for a few seconds. I felt … strange."
"It's the excitement," Black said. "New people, new places—kind of a strain, that's all. Come on, I'll show you where to bunk."
Where to bunk! Sam thought, after Black had escorted him to his rooms. It was a suite, consisting of a large bedroom, a sitting room, a huge bathroom, and a large walk-in closet. Sam looked for a radio. None. TV? None. Come to think of it, he mused, he had seen no TV antenna on Falcon House. Only the shortwave antenna for communication. It was almost as if they wished to be cut off from the outside as much as possible.
Turning to unpack his suitcase, Sam could not shake the feeling t>f foreboding that hung about him, and could not understand why he should feel that way.
His peripheral vision saw the doorknob slowly turning, the door easing open. Sam tensed.
THREE
"Sam?" Nydia called.
The young man grinned, expelling air from his lungs. "Here, Nydia."
She stepped inside, closing the door behind her. "You're really very special company, Sam." She smiled, aware of their being alone together. "This is the first time Mother has ever let a guest stay in this wing. Especially," her dark eyes sparkled with mischief, "in the room next to mine." She pointed to a closed door on the far side of the room.
Sam returned the grin. "Well … I'll have to keep my door locked then. I know how difficult it is to be a sex 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, lusting 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 cocktails? 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."
"Damn," 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."