Dance with the Devil by Dean Koontz

divan right after them were Leo Franks and his girl friend, Lena Mathews. He was tall and slim, she short and blonde and quite pretty. They were the most talkative of the lot and held the strongest political opinions, some of which Katherine did not even understand-and didn't think she wanted to. The last two guests were Bill Prosser and John Kline, both of whom had been in Alex's high school graduating class. The group was volatile, quick to react to one another, almost rowdy. She supposed that they had made a sincere effort to include her in everything they talked about, but she did not feel a part of them at all. She felt like a stranger. Whenever she spoke up, it was to make an optimistic observation to counter their unrelieved scorn for the condition and future of the world. Though they listened politely and sometimes even picked up on one of her suggestions and elaborated on it, she had the distinct impression they were only humoring her-that their own bleak outlook on life had not been touched at all by her arguments.
        During a lull in the conversation when wine glasses were being re-filled, Lena Mathews asked, “You graduated from Lydia's old school?”
        For some reason, it seemed to Katherine that the Mathews girl made her alma mater sound antiquated and out of date. Still, being polite, she smiled and said, “Yes, but not the same graduating class.”
        Everyone laughed appreciatively.
        “What was your major?” Bill Prosser asked.
        “Literature.”
        “Liberal arts?”
        “Yes.”
        Patricia brought in a fresh tray of hors d'oeuvres, bringing with her another conversational lull.
        As she left, Nancy asked, “What sort of things do you like to read?”
        “Mysteries, love stories, anything,” Katherine said.
        “I'm partial to ghost stories, novels about the supernatural,” Nancy said.
        “I like those too.”
        Katherine sipped her wine. Except for Nancy and her, everyone was silent and still, as if waiting for something. She had the distinct impression that the conversation was building to a pre-planned point.
        Nancy said, “Devils and demons, witches and hideous things that crawl around in the night. All of that junk gets to me, for some reason-especially since these crazy Satanists have been operating around Roxburgh.”
        Lena Mathews came in now, as if picking up her lines in a carefully rehearsed play. Or was that just Katherine's imagination. “I guess you've heard all about that ugly stuff.”
        “A good bit of it, yes,” Katherine said.
        “What do you think of it?”
        “Excuse me?”
        Lena said, “Do you think they really do summon up the devil?” She had come forward in her seat a little, holding her glass of wine in both hands, her eyes curiously alight.
        “Impossible,” Katherine said.
        “Still,” Lena said, settling back again, “if you believe in the Christian God, like we do, don't you also have to admit the existence of a Devil?”
        “Perhaps,” Katherine said. “But though I'm Christian, I can't summon God when I want to. I doubt that the Satanists would have any more luck in summoning their master.”
        A few of them laughed and applauded.
        “Good point!” Alton Harle said.
        Lena sighed and said, “But maybe the Satanists know the proper chants and all of that ritual stuff.”
        “That doesn't make sense, though. Why should they know the proper magic words to summon up the Devil when no one knows the proper magic to call up God?” Katherine asked. “If one set of data exists, then the other should be as easily accumulated, don't you think?”
        The room seemed to have gotten stuffy, the air still and thick and too warm.
        Katherine put down her glass of wine and decided not to drink any more of it tonight.
        “I guess so,” Lena admitted. “But you have probably just ruined any more supernatural