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    The Devil's Cat
    The Devil's Cat
    The Devil's Cat
    Ebook369 pages6 hours

    The Devil's Cat

    By William W. Johnstone

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    The Devil’s Disguise
     
    Cats. The town was alive with them. All kinds. Black, white, fat, scrawny . . . They lived in the streets, in the back yards, in the swamps of Becancour. Sam, Nydia, and Little Sam had never seen so many cats. The cats’ eyes were glowing slits as they watched the new-comers. And their furry tails were slowly switching back and forth . . .
     
    Evil. The town was ripe with it. It seemed to waft in from the swamps with the hot, fetid breeze and breed in the minds of Becancour’s citizens. Soon Sam, Nydia and Little Sam would battle the forces of darkness. Standing alone against the ultimate predator—
     
    The Devil’s Cat
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherLyrical Press
    Release dateApr 14, 2015
    ISBN9781616507800
    The Devil's Cat
    Author

    William W. Johnstone

    William W. Johnstone is the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of over 300 books, including the series THE MOUNTAIN MAN; PREACHER, THE FIRST MOUNTAIN MAN; MACCALLISTER; LUKE JENSEN, BOUNTY HUNTER; FLINTLOCK; THOSE JENSEN BOYS; THE FRONTIERSMAN; THE LEGEND OF PERLEY GATES, THE CHUCKWAGON TRAIL, FIRESTICK, SAWBONES, and WILL TANNER: DEPUTY U.S. MARSHAL. His thrillers include BLACK FRIDAY, TYRANNY, STAND YOUR GROUND, THE DOOMSDAY BUNKER, and TRIGGER WARNING. Visit his website at www.williamjohnstone.net or email him at [email protected].  

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      Book preview

      The Devil's Cat - William W. Johnstone

      Alighieri

      BOOK ONE

      1

      They had drifted for a year, not stopping for very long at any one place. Nydia knew her husband was looking for something, and knew what it was. But they had yet to find it.

      Xaviere Flaubert’s coven.

      Since leaving upstate New York, Sam, Nydia, and Little Sam had kept contact with others to the barest minimum.

      They were hunters, but yet they knew they were also the hunted.

      They were hunting Satan’s followers, and Satan’s followers were hunting them.

      Once, Sam thought he had found them in a small town in Illinois. That proved to be false.

      They drove south into Georgia, and once more Sam felt he had found the followers of the Evil One. But again he was wrong.

      Let’s try Nebraska."

      Why there?" he asked.

      The beginning," she said simply.

      Sam pointed the nose of the car west.

      On the fringes of what had once been the town of Whitfield, Nebraska, Sam stopped the car.

      But . . . something is."

      Can we get closer?"

      We can try."

      The young couple, with Little Sam asleep on the backseat, drove into the charred remains of what the massive fireball had left when it struck the earth, several years back. They found nothing. But both were experiencing a very odd sensation.

      Do you feel it?" Sam asked.

      Yes. But I don’t know what it is."

      They drove on, through the cracked county road that wound through the sand hills. Sam drove slowly, his eyes searching both sides of the little-used road.

      For what, he still did not know.

      Then he saw the dog, loping along the side of the road, pacing them. Sam slowed to a crawl; the dog slowed, keeping pace. Sam picked up speed; the dog picked up speed.

      What the hell? ..." he muttered.

      Stop, Sam!" Nydia said.

      What is it, Nydia?"

      He is a friend, and we’re going to need him."

      Sam never questioned his wife. Nydia was a witch. But the inherent good in her had overpowered the dark side and Nydia had accepted God Almighty as her only God.

      That action had infuriated the Dark One. He had schemed and plotted and sworn to have her as his own. For years Satan had tried to kill Sam and possess Nydia as his own. He had flung his awesome powers toward that end.

      But whatever Satan did, it always ended in failure at bringing Sam and Nydia to their knees, to worship him.

      Once he thought for sure he had them up in Canada. He failed, and the skies darkened and it stormed for days. Another time he was certain he had them in upstate New York. But Sam destroyed his coven and then blew up the town to spite him.

      And through it all, Nydia had stood like a rock beside her husband and child.

      And the Dark One cursed them.

      Call the dog, Sam," she said.

      Sam hesitated.

      He won’t hurt us. He is why we are here."

      Sam opened the door and got out. It was warm for this early in the spring, and the hot winds fanned him.

      He wondered if it was just the wind.

      He thought not.

      Come on, boy. Come to me."

      The dog did not hesitate. He rose from a sitting position and trotted to Sam, standing in front of the young man.

      Sam stayed in a squat, looking at the dog. He couldn’t tell what breed it was. It looked to be perhaps a hundred pounds, with a massive head and large jaws. The crushing power in those jaws would be tremendous. The dog appeared to have some German shepherd in him, as well as perhaps some boxer. His ears were pure hound dog. He was solid, with powerful legs. A thick neck.

      But it was his eyes that fascinated Sam. One was light blue, the other one was a yellow-gold color. Sam wondered if the dog was blind in his pale eye, as is so often the case. He tested the animal. The pale eye seemed to be normal.

      Sam turned around and looked back. Little Sam was awake, sitting up on the backseat, looking at his father and the dog.

      You like him, Sam?" his father asked.

      The boy smiled and nodded his head.

      I wonder if he has fleas?" Sam muttered.

      I doubt it," Nydia said, a touch of the mysterious in her voice.

      Dog!"

      I guess that’s what we’ll call him," his father said.

      Sam looked more closely at the big dog. No collar.

      That you can see." Nydia spoke softly.

      When they first met, it startled Sam to have her read his mind. Now he paid very little attention to it. And since sometimes he did not know the true meaning behind her words—as now—Sam elected to remain silent.

      The sky began to swiftly darken, announcing the forming of a savage prairie storm. Thunder rumbled around them and lightning lashed the heavens, seeking introduction with the earth.

      Not God’s earth, Sam thought. For he knew only too well—firsthand—that while God ruled the Heavens, the galaxies, Satan roamed the earth, ruling it from time to time.

      Dog looked up at the dark sky and growled deep in his throat, baring his wet fangs at the lightning.

      Little Sam, now in his fourth year, laughed at the approaching storm.

      It was still unclear to mother and father exactly what power the boy possessed . . . Good, or Bad.

      Both felt the boy was on the side of Good, for he had exhibited signs to that effect.

      But neither could be certain. They would have to wait. Wait.

      The winds began to howl, screaming over the sand hills and ripping the hot air, but not cooling it. The air became hotter, and with it came a foul, evil-smelling, putrid odor. The odor assailed the nostrils of all who smelled it.

      Dog sneezed and growled.

      Sam looked around him, sudden realization touching him with a numbing sensation.

      They were parked in the middle of what used to be Whitfield.

      He said as much to Nydia.

      I know. I can feel Dad’s presence."

      Yes. But he is far away."

      Dog growled and turned his big head, looking at Sam.

      Let’s go."

      Are you afraid?" her husband asked.

      No. But I know where they are."

      Strength filled the young man. He rose to his feet just as the first hot, stinking drops of rain began pelting the barren earth. He opened the door and Dog jumped onto the backseat, lying down beside Little Sam.

      Where, Nydia?"

      Her eyes were closed and her brow furrowed in deep thought. Sweat streaked her face. Sam remained silent, for he had seen her like this before.

      The storm battered the car. The winds shrieked in a familiar language to those whose lives were dedicated to fighting evil.

      Sam looked back at Little Sam and Dog. The boy was patting the huge head of the animal. Dog opened his eyes and gazed into the dark eyes of the boy. Something invisible moved between them; some . . . understanding, Sam felt.

      Sam took his foot off the brake and the car moved forward slowly.

      They are firmly entrenched and waiting for us."

      What do you see, Nydia?"

      He was suddenly aware of Dog sitting up on the backseat, his big head resting on the back of the front seat, his mismatched eyes studying Nydia.

      Cold unblinking eyes," she said, her voice husky.

      What is behind those eyes, Nydia?"

      I don’t know. Yet."

      Which way, Nydia?"

      I see cypress trees and Spanish moss. Lazy streams. No. Bayous. It’s very hot. The people are friendly and open."

      Bayous? Louisiana?"

      Yes."

      What else, Nydia?"

      Black magic."

      2

      The town of Becancour lay just to the north of the center of the state, and a bit to the east of the geographical center of Louisiana. Here is where the Cajun influence really took hold, in speech and music and philosophy.

      And in Becancour was where the Dark One had chosen to face his old enemy: God.

      Becancour lay off the beaten path; no roads ran east and west. A state road ran north and south, connecting some twenty miles later with Highway 28 to the north, and absolutely, positively nothing to the south.

      Except swamps.

      Dark, deep, foreboding swamps.

      And the population number of Becancour was to some people . . . well, odd.

      Odd, that it never seemed to change. It had not changed in the last six years. It remained a constant. When someone was born, someone either died, or moved away. When dying came first, someone either moved in, or was born.

      Odd.

      But since Becancour was so far off the beaten path, that little oddity never came to anyone’s attention.

      Until it was too late.

      Such a pretty little town, it was said by those few who visited Becancour.

      Sure was.

      And the people were so friendly.

      Sure were.

      But there weren’t many dogs, though.

      Nope.

      Sure were a lot of cats, though.

      Yep.

      A lot of cats.

      Sure is hot," Thelma Lovern remarked to her husband.

      And it’s so damned early in the season, too."

      Frank and Thelma owned the local motel. It didn’t have a name. Just MOTEL.

      They also owned the café adjoining the motel. The café didn’t have a name, either. Just EATS.

      Reckon we’ll get some tourists in this season, Mother," Frank said.

      I’m sure we will, Frank," Thelma agreed.

      Neither one of them believed it. Any tourist who came to Becancour was either hopelessly lost or drunk. Or both.

      Frank and Thelma had owned the motel and café for twenty years. They made a living, and that was about it.

      Sure is hot," Thelma said.

      Sure is," Frank agreed. If she says that one more time, Frank thought, I’m gonna kill the bitch!

      Across the street, at the most popular bar in town, Lula’s Love-Inn, Lula Magee was unlocking the front door to let in her clean-up man, Jules Nahan. Lula noticed that Jules looked even worse than he normally looked. She commented on that.

      I hate cats, Lula. I hate them worse than I do a cottonmouth. And this town is full of ’em. Where the hell did they all come from?"

      I don’t know, Jules. But calm down. You need a drink."

      Damn shore do."

      I’ll be in my office, Jules."

      Jules sat down to rest before work.

      Would you mind saying that again, Don?"

      Don repeated it.

      Don, now I know you went off to college and got you a fancy degree in law enforcement, then you done a hitch in the Marines. I know you’re a bright young man. You been all over the world and seen a lot. But, Don, don’t come in here talkin’ a bunch of shit to me! It’s too damn hot for jokes."

      I’m not joking, Sonny," the deputy said.

      Since Becancour was so far away from anything in the parish, a deputy was stationed there on a permanent basis.

      And nobody wanted to be that deputy, ’cause nothing ever happened in Becancour.

      La Boudin" at the top of his lungs. But Jobert never gave the arresting officer any problems. Just slept it off in an unlocked cell.

      Grand teton! Teter, s’il vous plaît?"

      Rita bounced a hickory stick off his tête de mort and gave him a tremendous mal de tête of the headbone.

      For a fact, Becancour used to be lots of fun. A fais do do many times during the summer. Church picnics, lots of good times.

      But the townspeople had changed over the months. No one seemed to have much fun anymore. Oh, the regulars still came to Lula’s Love-Inn and drank and played the jukebox and shot pool and got drunk. But it was . . . different somehow.

      People were more wary now. And for no good reason that anyone could explain.

      Devil worship, Don?" Sonny almost whispered the question.

      Old Man Musto’s missing sheep, Sonny?"

      Yeah. What about it?"

      I found it this morning. Mutilated. I took pictures." He tossed several Polaroids on Sonny’s desk. The chief looked at them, paled, and placed them back on his desk.

      It was layin’ in a circle. What the hell does that mean, Don?"

      I don’t know. Now, about those dogs your people found, Sonny?"

      How do you know about them?" The question was sharply asked.

      Come on, Sonny! It’s a big parish but a small town. People talk. Hell, Sonny! You can’t keep nothing secret among Cajuns. Or damn little."

      Yeah, but it usually stays among us, Don."

      I haven’t said a word to the sheriff."

      Pour de bon. OK, OK. It’s kids, Don. Got to be kids. But why are they doing it?"

      How do you know it’s kids?"

      I don’t. Don, I was with the Highway Patrol twenty years. Finally pulled the pin. Started out ’way to hell and gone up in Monroe. Ended up down in Lake Charles. I’ve seen everything anyone could throw at me. But I ain’t never had a case of devil worship. Jesus Christ, I don’t know anything about it."

      I think we’d better learn, Sonny. Both of us."

      Sam, Nydia, Little Sam, and Dog pulled into Becancour at two o’clock that afternoon. It was early May, and already the temperature was in the nineties, with the humidity matching it.

      You take pets?" Sam asked Frank at the check-in counter.

      as long as it don’t shit on the floor, you can have an ape in the room with you." He grinned at Sam. Just please don’t say it’s hot out! Frank thought. Please!

      Sure is hot out," Sam said.

      Will you be staying long?" he managed to say.

      Until we find a house to rent for the summer."

      I got a house!"

      Hey, that’s great," Sam said with a smile.

      South. Right on the bayou. Two bedrooms, bath and a half, carpet throughout. It isn’t nothing fancy, but it’s clean. There’s even a boat there ya’ll can use."

      Okay if we wait until tomorrow to look at it?" Sam asked.

      I’m givin’ you and the missus the suite. Two rooms. It’s Number 20. All the way down on this side. We’ll drive out in the morning and look at the house."

      That’ll be fine," Sam said, taking the key.

      We’re servin’ up red beans and rice."

      Sounds . . . delicious," Sam replied, not having the foggiest notion what the man was talking about.

      Dog stood up and placed his front paws on the countertop, staring at Frank through those strange mismatched eyes set in the huge head. Frank took a step backward, momentarily startled.

      Does he bite?" Frank asked.

      He’s never bitten me," Sam told him.

      Located just inside the city limits, on the southern edge of Becancour, on Dumaine Street, was the largest house in town. The old Dorgenois home. Back in the early 1800’s, when Becancour was just a tiny village, Romy Dorgenois moved his family from New Orleans up to Becancour. Rumor had it they moved out of New Orleans under protest. Seems the Dorgenoises had gotten involved with black magic, voodoo . . . and Satanism.

      No one ever really knew; or if they did, over the years, they weren’t talking. However . . . it was widely accepted throughout the community that the Dorgenois house was haunted. Most accepted it good-naturedly, as a joke, but there were those who took it much more seriously.

      With good reason.

      There had been some mysterious deaths over the years. And the people who died had been very vocal about the Dorgenois family. And although the priests involved would not talk about it, the incidents of exorcism, or attempted exorcisms, had increased ever since the Dorgenoises moved into Becancour.

      How many exorcisms had been successful?

      No one knew.

      Or they weren’t talking.

      The last two generations of Dorgenoises had refused to live in the huge mansion set on twenty acres of land. And their explanations for not doing so were vague.

      House was just too large, said Grandfather R.M. Dorgenois and his wife, Colter.

      Maybe.

      We prefer the more modern type of home, said the grandson, Romy Dorgenois, and his wife, Julie.

      Sure.

      So the Dorgenois family began renting out the lovely mansion.

      A lot.

      Back in the 1930s, when the house was first rented out, a young boy fell to his death, tumbling down the long, spiraling stairs. Damn shame, was the consensus of the townspeople. He was sure a cute little altar boy, too.

      The sheriff said a cat had tripped the boy. The father shot the cat. About a month later the father drowned in the sluggish bayou behind the house.

      And some of the older townspeople still insist that goddamned cat reappeared.

      Of course, no one believed that.

      And then the house was rented to a New York City couple name of Franklin. They had two kids, a boy and a girl. The family was devout Catholics. And they didn’t much care for cats. It seemed that the house came with a built-in population of rat catchers. Couple of dozen of them. All different colors.

      One day the family went on a fishing trip back in the dark bayous. The family, along with the two local guides, never came back, and their bodies were never found.

      The Dorgenois house stayed empty for several years after that. Then a young couple from up in Little Rock rented the place for a honeymoon. Three weeks into the month the couple had a bad quarrel and the young bride ran out into the warm night, crying. Sheriff said it looked like she tripped on some vines and hit her head on one of the fountain walls. Busted her head wide open. She died a couple of days later, in Old Doctor Livaudais’s clinic right there in Becancour.

      Then in the 1950s some local kids broke into the house one Halloween night. No one ever did figure that one out. That young Claverie girl went slap-dab crazy. Took a half dozen men to restrain her. Took her to the nut house. Still there. The young Savoie boy was found dead in the musty study of the old mansion. Not a mark on him. Just sitting on the floor, stone dead. The Rogers girl come out of it all right, the townspeople reckoned, and turned into a beautiful woman, but Jesus God, she turned . . . well, strange. Yeah, that was the word. Bonnie Rogers was weird. Dave Porter was . . .

      Oh ... ’fore I forget, that Savoie boy? His parents wouldn’t let the funeral parlor people do anything with him. Just stuck him in a box and shoveled the dirt over him. Turned cold that day the boy was planted. Mean, bone-chilling cold for that time of the year and for that part of the country. The wind was howling and whistling and the drizzle that fell from the sky was cold.

      Dave Porter? Well, he seemed all right. Got out of high school and went off to college and then the Army and come back and married Margie Gremillion. Started him up an insurance agency and done all right for himself. Margie says her husband gets a little bit flaky at times ... especially around Halloween. And sometimes when the moon is full, too. Likes to sit out in the yard and look up at the moon. Seems like maybe he could see something up there that nobody else could see.

      And who knows? Maybe he can.

      Anyway, there was, let’s see, two or three more families tried to vacation in the Dorgenois house.

      One family paid a whole summer’s rent, then up and pulled out after just a week there. Didn’t leave no forwarding address or nothin’. Just hauled ass in the middle of the night. Another family come down from way up north, Michigan, it was. They left one of their own down here in Louisiana, in the Becancour graveyard. No one ever figured out just how the young man died, but one of his friends who come down with him found him. Boy like to have gone stark ravin’ nuts.

      He claimed a bunch of cats was eatin’ on his friend’s dead body.

      Now . . . no one really believed that. But . . . come to think of it, that boy had a closed-casket funeral. And Old Mister Authement at the funeral parlor—his boy Art runs it now—never would talk about the boy.

      Was there anyone else who come down to rent the Dorgenois house? Yeah . . . them people who have been livin’ in it for the past, oh, maybe fifteen months.

      Now, you talk about weird! Them folks take the cake for odd.

      Whole passel of ’em. One guy who wanders around the grounds like a zombie. Jimmy something-or-another. One kid who couldn’t be more than eighteen or nineteen at the most. Jon Le Moyne. A real cute girl called Janet. There’s about ten or twelve people live in that ol’ house.

      Including one of the most beautiful women anybody around Becancour had ever laid eyes on.

      Xaviere Flaubert.

      3

      He has arrived, Princess," Xaviere was informed.

      Yes, I know," the woman said. She rose from her chair and walked across the room to a window, gazing out. She was tall, with rich brown hair that tumbled down her back. A magnificent figure, with full breasts and tiny waist. She was tall, her complexion flawless. Pale eyes and full lips.

      She was also the daugher of Satan. She was the Princess of Darkness.

      She was also Sam Balon’s daughter.

      Her mother, the witch Roma, had died giving birth to the monster. With that action, Roma had left her various earth-lifes to forever join her master, The Dark One. The birth had not been a natural one, the monster that would undergo a rapid metamorphosis had burst from the womb in a shower of blood and mangled flesh. The Mother Witch had only a quick glimpse of the monster before dying; but that one look was enough.

      Already, just moments from the womb, the girl-baby had begun changing, growing quickly. In a year’s time she would be a mature young woman.

      For Satan is impatient.

      They have an animal with them?"

      A big dog."

      He is much more than a dog, Janet. Believe that. He was placed here to protect my half-brother, Little Sam."

      Can he be killed?"

      I don’t know," the Princess of Darkness replied truthfully.

      ... sent the dog?"

      Doubtful. Probably that meddling Michael. God’s mercenary!"

      Janet remained silent. Around her feet, a half dozen cats slinked and slithered, rubbing against her ankles.

      How is your child?" the Princess asked.

      Beautiful. Our Master slowed her growth. She is perfect."

      Sam Balon’s daughter and Little Sam’s half-sister. Is she ready?"

      Yes."

      We will not hurry. There is no need to rush matters. We have all the time in the world." Xaviere leaned down and picked up a cat. She stroked the fur of the animal and listened to it purr in satisfaction.

      The purr contained a dark, evil sound.

      It promises to be a good summer, Janet."

      Very interesting, indeed."

      The cats in the room began purring.

      What do you think of it?"

      It’s lovely," Nydia said, slapping at a mosquito and missing.

      Then them things won’t be so bad."

      Good," she muttered. She brushed back a lock of black hair and once more looked at the house. She was conscious of Frank gazing at her. Not in an ugly way, but in a man’s very appreciative way of looking at a very beautiful woman.

      We’ll take it," Sam said.

      The men shook hands on the deal and it was set.

      It’s very old, isn’t it?"

      Oh, yes’um. ’Bout a hundred and fifty years old. ’Course it’s been done

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