gns.thegraveyardvultures-第17部分

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　　Sabat　recognised　them　as　surely　as　though　he　gazed　upon　the　corpse　of　a　close　friend　laid　out　on　a　mortician's　slab；　knew　that　these　bones　represented　all　that　remained　of　William　Gardiner！
　　
　　The　big　man　treated　them　with　reverence；　once　bowing　and　kissing　the　feet。　Sabat　stared；　realised　suddenly　that　this　was　Royston；　clad　in　flowing　robes　of　mauve　that　were　decorated　with　inverted　crucifixes；　a　blasphemous　black　bishop　performing　rites　that　had　e　from　hell　itself；　seeking　life　eternal　out　of　evil　death。
　　
　　The　ceremony　was　only　just　beginning；　the　living　paying　homage　to　the　dead；　and　in　return　asking　for　power　beyond　mortal　ken。　Royston　seemed　oblivious　of　Sabat's　presence；　as　did　the　naked　throng　which　filed　in　through　a　hidden　passage　behind　the　altar；　a　vile　assembly　of　old　and　young　who　believed　that　before　long　the　ultimate　in　power　would　be　theirs。　In　silence　they　performed　the　utmost　in　obscene　acts；　senile　and　adolescents　mouthing　insane　laughter；　groping　one　another　with　lusting　fingers　and　turning　unhealthy　fantasies　into　reality；　all　the　time　looking　towards　those　ancient　bones　as　though　seeking　the　skeleton's　approval。
　　
　　Then　everybody　was　still；　glancing　fearfully　about　them；　the　gloom　gradually　deepening　until　darkness　hid　everything　from　Sabat。　Now　he　relied　on　his　ears　and　those　extraordinary　senses　which　detected　near…silent　movements　and　translated　them　into　positive　actions。　Somebody　had　been　brought　in　via　that　same　secret　passage；　one　who　was　trussed　and　gagged　so　that　only　muscles　could　be　flexed　in　futile　frustration　and　terror。　Man　or　woman；　young　or　old？　Oh　God；　Sabat　could　smell　his　own　sweat；　his　own　scent　of　fear　because　he　had　to　know！　But　he　could　not　move；　could　not　see；　forced　to　suffer　the　agony　of　being　led　here　and　then　denied　the　knowledge　he　craved。　For　the　rites　of　human　sacrifice　had　already　begun；　the　victim's　tortured　screams　barely　audible　behind　the　heavy　gag；　blood　vessels　bursting　as　muscles　strained　beyond　their　limits。　But　who；　in　the　name　of　Jesus　Christ；　who　was　it！
　　
　　Then　came　the　clamouring　of　maniacal　voices；　exultant　shouts　of　blasphemy；　orgasmic　shrieks；　all　dying　away　as　a　pounding　of　hooves　and　a　bestial　snorting　dominated。　The　stench　was　vile　and　suffocating；　an　odour　of　stables　that　would　have　defied　even　the　efforts　of　Hercules　to　cleanse　them。　Then　a　squelching　sound　that　could　have　been　either　the　munching　of　freshly…killed　human　flesh　or　that　of　an　unholy　mating　between　。　。　。　Sabat　was　suddenly　fleeing；　blindly　stumbling　back　up　those　steps　in　total　darkness；　flinging　himself　headlong　on　an　unknown　landscape　where　night　had　conquered　day　in　the　time　that　he　had　been　away；　where　the　air　was　fresh　and　sweet　and　he　only　smelled　that　vile　putrefaction　because　it　lingered　on　his　own　body。
　　
　　Sobbing　openly；　beating　the　stony　ground　with　clenched　fists。　In　the　name　of　God　who　had　been　sacrificed　in　quest　of　the　ultimate　in　evil；　whose　body　had　been　mutilated　while　life　still　coursed　through　its　veins　so　that　William　Gardiner　could　be　granted　eternal　life　in　the　body　of　Royston；　the　exiled　houngan？　For　God's　sake；　whose！
　　
　　Sabat　awoke　with　a　jerk；　felt　his　heart　pounding　madly　and　saw　that　it　was　already　dusk。　His　clothes　clung　damply　to　his　body　and　for　one　awful　moment　he　thought　he　could　still　smell　that　vile　odour　but　it　could　have　been　his　own　sweat。　Oh　Jesus　God；　that　had　been　close；　the　closest　ever。　The　houngan's　power　was　such　that　he　could　have　killed　him；　claimed　his　soul　had　he　wished　to　do　so；　but　he　had　not　because　it　suited　some　ulterior　purpose。　For　some　devilish　reason　it　benefited　Royston　to　let　him　remain　alive；　to　toy　with　him　like　a　cat　that　has　caught　a　mouse　and　is　sure　of　its　prey。
　　
　　Normally　Sabat　had　enough　control　to　keep　his　astral　close　to　his　body　when　he　slept　if　he　wished　to　do　so；　particularly　during　the　daylight　hours。　But　this　time　it　had　been　lured　away；　lured　into　the　future　（near　or　distant？）　for　a　ghastly　preview　of　some　forthing　evil。　He　almost　screamed　out　aloud　'for　Jesus　Christ's　sake　whose　was　that　body　on　the　black　altar？'　But　he　didn't　because　he　knew　it　was　futile；　that　the　future　was　deliberately　screened　from　mortals　except　on　rare　occasions　on　the　astral　plane　when　one　was　permitted　a　brief　glimpse　of　some　forthing　happening。
　　
　　He　glanced　at　Miranda。　She　was　sleeping　soundly　and　it　seemed　a　shame　to　wake　her；　to　transport　her　back　into　this　cruel　world　of　evil　and　deadly　peril。　But　he　must；　for　now　there　had　to　be　a　change　of　plans。　No　longer　could　they　await　the　ing　of　Royston　and　assassinate　him　like　some　third　rate　South　American　president。　He　was　too　powerful　and　he　was　aware　of　their　plans！
　　
　　Again　two　courses　of　action　were　open　to　Sabat。　He　could　either　flee　with　Miranda；　drive　from　here　while　there　was　still　time；　or　else　they　could　hastily　construct　a　pentagram；　rely　totally　on　its　powers；　and　skulk　behind　locked　doors　until　morning。　The　latter　was　safer。　If。　they　fled；　Royston　would　pursue　them　and　would　have　no　difficulty　in　making　a　psychic　attack　wherever　they　were。
　　
　　Here　they　stood　a　slim　chance　of　survival。　It　was　still　not　fully　dark；　there　was　time　to　go　down　the　road　to　the　car；　fetch　his　various　impedimentia　necessary　for　the　construction　of　the　pentagram　and　by　nightfall　they　would　be　paratively　safe。　Royston's　power　was　unbelievable。　Obviously　he　was　already　drawing　some　of　it　from　William　Gardiner's　remains；　strong　enough　to　lure　Sabat's　astral　body　away　and　give　it　a　terrifying　look　into　the　future。　Oh　Christ；　if　only　he'd　been　able　to　recognise　that　sacrificial　victim！
　　
　　Softly　Sabat　shook　Miranda　awake。　Her　eyes　opened　then　clouded　over　as　the　terror　filtered　back；　her　whole　body　starting　to　tremble。
　　
　　'It's　。　。　。　almost　dark。'　She　glanced　towards　the　window。　'He'll　be　here　soon。　We　must
　　
　　I've　decided　on　a　change　of　plan。'　Sabat　tried　to　sound　casual；　as　though　it　was　something　he　had　been　thinking　over　while　she　had　been　asleep。　On　no　account　must　she　even　guess　the　terrible　truth。　'It's　too　risky　to　kill　Royston　here；　there　could　be　all　sorts　of　plications　and　we　could　both　find　ourselves　in　prison　facing　a　murder　charge。　What　I　propose　doing　is　drawing　a　pentagram　in　this　very　room；　which　should　keep　us　safe　until　morning；　and　then　I　think　we'll　return　to　London　where　I　can　fight　him　on　home　territory。'　It　sounded　plausible　and　there　was　even　a　look　of　relief　on　Miranda's　face　at　the　realisation　that　they　were　not　going　to　seek　a　confrontation　with　Royston　after　all。　'So　before　it　gets　properly　dark　I'll　just　pop　down　to　the　car　and　get　the　things　I　need。'
　　
　　'AH　right；'　she　nodded；　'but　be　as　quick　as　you　can　please；　Mark；　because　it's　already　starting　to　get　dark　。　。　。　and　I'm　frightened。'
　　
　　She　let　him　out　of　the　front　door；　closing　it　behind　him。　It　was　darker　than　he　had　thought；　the　street　lights　already　having　e　on；　and　on　both　sides　of　the　road　curtains　were　drawn　across　lighted　windows。　A　bank　of　cloud　had　drifted　in　during　the　afternoon　and　it　was　even　now　beginning　to　drizzle。　Sabat　shuddered；　tried　to　shake　off　the　foreboding　which　had　plagued　him　since　he　had　awoken；　and　quickened　his　step。
　　
　　It　was　a　relief　to　see　the　Daimler　still　there　at　the　kerbside。　It　was　further　from　Miranda's　house　than　he　had　thought　and　he'd　had　one　awful　thought　that　it　might　have　been　stolen。　Christ；　he　had　to　calm　these　needless　fears；　get　himself　under　control　if　he　was　to　e　through　this　night　unscathed。　They　had　already　begun　to　work　on　him。
　　
　　His　hand　fumbled　as　he　found　the　bunch　of　keys　in　his　pocket。　Panic　that　he　fought　down；　told　himself　he　had　to　stay　calm；　in　all　probability　Royston　would　not　show　up　for　hours　yet。　He　found　the　right　key；　it　slipped　down　the　ring　just　as　he　went　to　fit　it　in　the　lock；　and　he　cursed　beneath　his　breath。　Got　it　this　time；　it　went　in　a　little　way　then　stuck　as　though　there　was　some　obstruction　in　the　keyhole。
　　
　　'Sod　it；　what　the　hell's　the　matter？　It's　never　played　up　like　this　before。'　Sabat　tugged；　pushed；　but　the　key　would　neither　go　right　in　nor　e　out；　bending　slightly　under　the　strain。
　　
　　He　was　sweating；　trying　not　to　lose　his　temper。　Maybe　there　was　a　particle　of　dirt　jammed　in　the　lock。　Careful　manipulation　was　preferable　to　brute　force　for　if　the　key　snapped　he　was　in　trouble。　It　had　to　right　itself　soon。　But　it　didn't。
　　
　　Sabat　stepped　back；　heard　the　bunch　of　keys　jangling　against　the　door；　swinging　to　and　fro　like　a　taunting　pendulum　until　finally　the　momentum　ran　out。　Jesus　Christ；　this　was　all　he　needed！　Maybe　he　should　walk　down　the　road　to　that　telephone　kiosk　and　call　out　the　AA。　'Give　us　your　precise　location；　sir。　Thank　you；　that's　fine；　now　go　back　and　wait　by　your　vehicle　and　hopefully　our　patrolman　will　be　with　you　within　the　hour。'　More　like　two　fucking　hours；　by　which　time　Royston　would　surely　have　shown　up。
　　
　　Or；　Sabat　decided；　he　could　break　a　window；　but　that　would　bring　half　the　inhabitants　of　the　road　outside；　a　gawping　sea　of　faces。　'That　chap's　up　to　no　good。　Did　you　see　where　he　went？　Into　her　house。'
　　
　　So　many　'ifs'　and　'buts'。　He'd　just　have　to　carry　on　fiddling　with　the　key；　it　was　bound　to　give　sooner　or　later。　Maybe　he　should　go　back　and　tell　Miranda　that　he'd　run　into　trouble。　She　couldn't　see　the　car　from　the　house　and　she'd　start　worrying。　No；　it　would　take　too　long；　waste　valuable　time。　It　was　almost　full　darkness　already。
　　
　　The　keys　jangled　again　as　he　grasped　them；　began　to　wriggle　the　one　in　the　lock。　But　whatever　the　obstruction　was　it　was　certainly　jammed　firmly。
　　
　　Miranda　experienced　an　air　of　acute　loneliness　the　moment　she　closed　the　door　after　Sabat。　It　was　something　she　had　never　known　before　except　that　one　time　when　her　father　had　left　home　for　good。　It　was　as　though　a　part　of　her　had　just　walked　away　as　she　watched　Sabat　disappear。　Usually　she　felt　relief　when　a　client　left。　Never　once　had　she　felt　anything　for　one　of　her　lovers；　just　a　physical　relationship；　nothing　more。　But　this　time　it　had　been　different；　even　when　Sabat　was　raping　her　and　she　had　fused　with　him；　wanted　to　encircle　him　with　her　legs　and　hold　him　inside　her　forever；　but　some　inexplicable　force　had　prevented　her　from　doing　this。
　　
　　She'd　tried　to　kill　him　but　she　hadn't　hated　him。　It　was　as　though　somebody　else　was　inside　her；　controlling　her　every　action。　The　blind　fury　had　not　been　hers。　Psychic　hypnotism；　Sabat　had　called　it。　If　there　was　such　a　thing　then　that　was　what　it　had　been。　Thank　God　her　knife　thrust　had　missed！
　　
　　Royston　worried　her；　terrified　her。　She　could　not　stop　thinking　about　him。　Whenever　he　made　love　to　her　she　felt　the　revulsion　building　up　in　her　like　she　was　mating　with　some　slimy　reptile。　But　she　dared　not　show　it；　even　made　advances　to　him　because　she　knew　it　pleased　his　ego。
　　
　　Thankfully　she　hadn't　seen　him　lately　but　tonight　he　was　ing　here　again　in　the　fullness　of　his　evil；　a　murderer　and　worse！　He　would　not　hesitate　to　kill　her　if　it　suited　him。　Only　Sabat　stood　between　her　and　some　terrible　fate　now。
　　
　　Oh　God；　would　Sabat　be　strong　enough；　cunning　enough？　Evil　enough？　Sabat