gns.thegraveyardvultures-第18部分

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　　Oh　God；　would　Sabat　be　strong　enough；　cunning　enough？　Evil　enough？　Sabat　was　evil；　all　right；　but　in　a　different　way。　Miranda　felt　safe　with　him；　just　having　him　out　of　the　house　for　a　few　minutes　induced　an　unfamiliar　insecurity。
　　
　　He　was　certainly　taking　his　time。　She　looked　at　the　small　electric　clock　on　the　mantelshelf　in　the　living　room。　9。30。　Outside　it　was　fully　dark；　the　glow　of　the　streetlamps　seeming　eerie；　sinister。　She　shuddered；　tried　to　remember　how　long　it　was　since　Sabat　had　left。　Certainly　ten　minutes；　no；　more。　Twenty　at　least。　She　went　to　the　window；　tried　to　see　down　the　road　but　it　was　deserted　as　far　as　the　first　bend。　What　on　earth　was　keeping　him？　Maybe　he'd　lost　something；　or　was　fiddling　with　whatever　equipment　he'd　gone　to　fetch。　But　that　thought　seemed　unconvincing；　left　her　with　a　sense　of　uneasiness；　foreboding。　Sabat　himself　had　stressed　the　urgency；　the　need　to　get　a　pentagram　drawn　as　quickly　as　possible　and　to　barricade　themselves　in　the　house　for　the　night。　Something　had　gone　wrong　。。。
　　
　　Then　she　heard　the　front…door　bell　chime；　a　sound　that　brought　instant　relief；　dispelled　her　fears　even　as　she　hastened　into　the　hall。　As　she　rushed　to　the　door　she　could　see　his　outline　clearly　through　the　opaque　glass；　his　dark…clad　frame。
　　
　　'Thank　God！'　she　blurted　as　she　let　him　in。　'I　was　getting　frantic；　thought　something　had　gone　wrong。　Whatever　kept　you；　you've　been　gone　almost　twenty　minutes。'
　　
　　'I　didn't　think　it　was　that　long；'　his　voice　sounded　somehow　different　as　he　followed　her　into　the　living　room；　flat　and　expressionless。　'Ten　at　the　most；　I'd　say。'
　　
　　Something　made　her　turn；　a　premonition　that　everything　was　not　as　it　should　be。　Then　her　eyes　widened；　her　mouth　opened　in　amazement　and　horror。　The　man　who　faced　her　was　not　Sabat！　The　features　had　expanded　into　a　vulpine　obesity；　jowls　of　flesh　and　hooded　eyes　that　blazed　a　terrible　fury；　black　clothing；　but　the　garments　hung　almost　shapeless　on　the　huge　frame；　white　manicured　hands　reaching　out　for　her。　And　as　they　closed　over　her　throat；　stifling　the　scream　before　it　began；　lifting　her　like　an　oversize　rag　doll；　a　red　haze　shimmered　before　her　eyes；　turning　slowly　to　black。　She　did　not　try　to　reason　as　she　felt　consciousness　slipping　away　from　her；　just　knew　that　somehow　Sabat　had　bee　Royston　and　that　this　time　there　was　no　escape　for　her！
　　
　　Sabat　let　out　a　loud　sigh　of　relief　when　suddenly　the　key　slotted　into　the　lock；　turned　so　easily　that　it　was　difficult　to　believe　that　there　had　ever　been　any　obstruction　preventing　it　from　doing　so　in　the　first　place。　He　leaned　over　the　seat；　scrabbled　frantically　on　the　floor　behind　until　his　fingers　located　the　small　plastic　hold…all　bag　hidden　by　the　rubber　mat。　Thank　God；'　he　muttered；　'and　pray　that　there　is　still　time。'
　　
　　He　slammed　the　door　and　this　time　the　lock　turned　smoothly。　Then　he　was　walking　fast　back　up　the　street；　resisting　the　urge　to　break　into　a　run　for　he　did　not　want　to　attract　unwanted　attention。　The　distance　from　his　Daimler　to　Miranda's　house　was　further　than　he　had　thought　and　by　the　time　he　turned　into　the　short　flagged　path　beyond　the　flimsy　gate　his　pulses　were　racing　madly。　A　feeling　that　something　was　wrong　but　he　attributed　it　to　his　nerves；　his　frustration　over　the　untimely　delay。
　　
　　The　front　door　was　half　open；　the　light　from　the　hallway　casting　an　orange　oblong　across　the　patch　of　uncut　lawn。　Sabat　halted。　There　was　no　sign　of　Miranda；　maybe　she　was　in　the　other　room；　had　opened　the　door　in　readiness　for　his　return。
　　
　　But　no！　Oh　Jesus　Christ；　he　wasn't　going　to　find　her　in　the　house；　he　knew　that　even　before　he　stepped　over　the　threshold；　didn't　bother　to　call　out　her　name。　Royston　had　thwarted　him；　delayed　him　at　the　car　while　he　snatched　Miranda　a　way！
　　
　　Sabat　was　trembling；　hopelessness　flooding　over　him　as　he　checked　every　room　just　to　confirm　his　worst　fears。　No　signs　of　a　struggle；　but　there　wouldn't　be；　for　a　powerful　black　magician　such　as　Royston　did　not　have　to　resort　to　dragging　a　screaming　woman　from　her　house。　He　had　gained　access　by　some　trick　and　vanished　as　pletely　as　though　he　had　taken　to　the　wing。
　　
　　Sabat　leaned　up　against　a　doorpost；　knew　he　had　to　bring　himself　under　control。　Blind　rage　came　and　went；　he　did　not　even　profane；　just　accepted　the　situation；　knew　that　somehow　he　had　to　do　something　about　it。　But　how？
　　
　　And　then；　suddenly；　he　smelled　the　evil；　just　a　faint　whiff　that　was　gone　almost　immediately。　Evil　he　had　smelled　and　recognised　many　times　in　a　variety　of　odours　but　this　one　was　so　familiar；　so　recent；　that　he　had　no　trouble　in　placing　it　…　the　stench　of　putrefaction　that　had　nauseated　his　astral　body　only　a　few　hours　previously。　He　clenched　his　fists；　bit　on　his　lower　lip　until　he　tasted　blood；　tried　to　tell　himself　that　he　was　wrong　but　in　the　end　he　knew　that　he　was　only　lying　to　himself。
　　
　　For　he　had　smelled　again　that　vile　underground　crypt　and　the　stink　of　a　beast　of　filth；　could　almost　hear　it　pawing　with　its　cloven　hooves　and　snorting　its　lust　for　the　helpless　human　sacrifice。　And　now　there　was　no　doubt；　whatsoever；　concerning　the　identity　of　that　sacrificial　victim　which　had　been　denied　his　astral　…　Miranda　was　to　be　offered　to　the　dreaded　powers　of　darkness　by　Royston　in　an　unholy　pact　with　Satan　himself！
　　
　　Even　now；　this　very　minute；　the　mating　and　the　carnage　might　have　begun！
　　
　　
　　　CHAPTER　EIGHT
　　　
　　SABAT　CLOSED　the　front　door　of　Miranda's　house　and　then　forced　himself　to　think　logically。　There　was　little　to　fear　for　himself　this　night　for　the　dark　powers　would　be　too　busy　with　the　ultimate　in　obscenity　to　bother　about　Sabat。　They　would　exact　their　revenge　later。
　　
　　Oh　God；　if　only　he　knew　where　that　disused　crypt　was。　There　had　to　be　dozens　scattered　up　and　down　the　country；　many　lost　to　the　records　because　they　had　collapsed　and　been　filled　in　by　Nature's　own　processes；　flooding　and　silting；　thick　undergrowth　springing　up　to　hide　the　site。
　　
　　But　there　was　one　man　who　might　know；　one　in　high　office　who　had　overruled　Bishop　Wentnor's　decision　and　called　in　Sabat　in　the　beginning　。。。　the　Archbishop　himself；　a　man　of　unique　sincerity；　one　who　recognised　that　evil　powers　beyond　man's　knowledge　existed。
　　
　　Sabat　went　back　into　the　hall　and　dialled　directory　enquiries。　Even　if　the　operator　on　duty　was　sceptical　he　would　be　pelled　to　give　a　caller　some　number　connected　with　that　division　of　the　Church's　hierarchy。　It　was　going　to　be　a　step…by…step　process　but　Sabat　was　determined　to　win　through；　using　either　charm　or　forcefulness　according　to　which　the　situation　demanded；　somehow　he　was　going　to　reach　the　Archbishop。
　　
　　It　took　him　quarter　of　an　hour　to　get　as　far　as　the　Archbishop's　private　secretary；　one　whose　acid　tones　revealed　both　his　annoyance　and　his　amazement　that　somebody　should　even　consider　disturbing　his　holiness　at　this　hour　…　it　was　after　ten！
　　
　　'If　you　would　care　to　leave　a　message；　sir；　I　will　endeavour　to　pass　it　on　to　his　holiness　tomorrow。'　A　stone　wail　defence　that　had　to　be　breached。
　　
　　'Tomorrow　will　be　too　late；'　Sabat　snapped。　*I　don't　care　whether　his　holiness　is　in　the　bath　or　in　bed　but　will　you　please　tell　him　immediately　that　Sabat　is　on　the　line。'
　　
　　'Sabat；　sir　。。。？'　a　hesitancy；　the　other　endeavouring　to　make　a　name　once　heard　click　somewhere。　'Sabat。。。　？'
　　
　　'That's　right；　Sabat。　It　is　vital　that　I　speak　to　the　Archbishop　immediately。　If　this　message　is　ignored　somebody　may　die。　It　is　literally　a　matter　of　life　and　death！'
　　
　　The　receiver　on　the　other　end　bumped　down　on　a　wooden　surface；　not　so　much　as　a　'hold　on'　or　'I'll　go　and　see　what　I　can　do'。　But　that　didn't　matter　because　at　least　the　message　was　going　to　get　through。
　　
　　The　line　buzzed　and　ticked；　went　silent；　and　at　one　stage　Sabat　wondered　if　he　had　been　cut　off。　Then；　after　several　minutes　he　heard　the　phone　being　picked　up；　a　deep　cultured　voice　making　the　wires　crackle。　'Sabat；　really　my　good　fellow；　it　is　rather　late　you　know。　I　hope　this　is　really　urgent。'
　　
　　'Desperately　urgent；　sir。'　Sabat　used　the　'sir'　deliberately；　knew　that　he　had　to　create　respect　if　the　other　was　going　to　hear　him　out。　'I　need　your　help。　Following　my　exorcisms　of　St　Adrian's　Church　and　its　graveyard；　the　cult　concerned　have　kidnapped　a　woman　from　the　village　and　I　have　good　reason　to　believe　that　they　intend　to　use　her　for　human　sacrifice。'
　　
　　'My　goodness。　Have　you　told　the　police？'
　　
　　'No；　because　for　one　thing　there　isn't　time。　Another；　I've　been　。。。　warned　off。'
　　
　　'So　I　heard。'　There　was　a　note　of　sympathy　in　the　Archbishop's　voice。　'Can't　see　what　they　have　to　plain　about；　a　bit　of　jealousy　if　you　ask　me。'
　　
　　'Look；　sir；'　Sabat　tried　to　control　his　impatience；　'this　is　a　matter　of　great　urgency　and　I　think　you　know　my　reputation　well　enough　to　know　that　I　don't　make　mountains　out　of　molehills　。　。　。　also　that　I　have　ways　of　finding　out　things。
　　
　　Which　was　why　you　engaged　me　in　the　first　place；　I　know　that　this　particular　coven　are　using　a　disused　crypt　for　a　temple　and　that　they　have　the　skeleton　of　William　Gardiner　there。　They　plan　some　unholy　rites　which　I　can　assure　you　are　not　poppycock。　But　I　must　find　this　crypt　without　delay　which　is　why　I'm　ringing　you。'
　　
　　'Hmm；'　the　other　lapsed　into　silence　for　a　few　moments；　'there　must　be　lots　of　old　crypts　up　and　down　the　country；　many　fallen　into　disuse　so　that　often　the　vicars　of　the　various　parishes　are　unaware　of　their　existence。　Tell　you　what；　though；　there　is　one　man　who　just　might　be　able　to　help　you。'
　　
　　'Anything's　worth　a　chance。'　Sabat　felt　his　pulses　start　to　race。
　　
　　'The　Reverend　Spode；'　the　Archbishop　continued；　'is　a　well…respected　vicar　who　has　made　a　study　of　archaeology；　his　main　interest　being　pre…Norman　churches。　He's　also　made　a　study　of　pre…Christian　religions。　He　may　just　be　able　to　help　you。　I　remember　he　gave　a　talk　on　television　a　couple　of　years　ago　and　he'd　drawn　a　detailed　map　of　these　church　sites；　many　of　which　are　long　gone。　I'm　sure　he'd　have　a　list　of　these　old　crypts；　too。'
　　
　　'He's　the　man；'　Sabat　snapped；　'only　where　do　I　contact　him？'
　　
　　'Worcestershire；　somewhere。　If　you'll　hang　on　I'll　go　and　get　the　address　for　you。'
　　
　　As　Sabat　waited　a　little　shiver　ran　up　and　down　his　spine；　a　feeling　of　elation　suddenly　overshadowed　by　one　of　foreboding。　But　he　sensed　that　he　had　picked　up　the　trail　at　last。
　　
　　It　was　10。45　when　Sabat　slid　in　behind　the　wheel　of　his　Daimler；　relieved　when　the　engine　fired　first　time。　In　spite　of　his　frustrations　and　fears　this　past　hour　he　felt　physically　and　mentally　refreshed。　His　long　sleep　during　the　daytime　had　refreshed　him　and；　as　was　usually　the　case；　the　activities　of　his　astral　body　had　in　no　way　tired　him。　A　drive　of　a　mere　forty　miles　faced　him；　less　than　an　hour　on　the　road；　and　there　was　always　the　chance　that　the　Reverend　Spode；　a　bachelor；　was　not　one　who　retired　to　bed　early。　But　if　the　clergyman　had　done　so　then　he　would　have　to　be　disturbed。　It　was　a　matter　more　grave　than　life　or　death；　the　souls　of　many　at