gns.thegraveyardvultures-第22部分

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rve　in　his　body　was　screaming　at　him！
　　
　　In　that　terrible　moment　he　saw　and　understood；　saw　the　big　clergyman　standing　before　him；　the　receding　hairline　that　traced　a　thinning　path　to　a　balding　crown；　the　jellified　jowls　that　wobbled　their　way　to　a　leering　grin　and　the　hooked　nose　which　resembled　the　outsize　cruel　beak　of　a　bird　of　prey；　oversized　on　those　aquiline　features。　There　could　be　no　possible　doubt　concerning　the　true　identity　of　the　man　who　faced　him！
　　
　　'Allow　me　to　introduce　myself；'　the　newer　laughed；　a　throaty　chuckle；　'the　Reverend　Spode　。　。　。　Royston　Spode！'
　　
　　His　words　hit　Sabat　like　a　burst　of　。45　slugs。　He　found　himself　pressing　back　in　his　chair；　his　stomach　knotting　as　though　he　suffered　from　a　bout　of　colic。　You　fucking　idiot；　you　walked　right　into　the　lion's　den；　didn't　even　look　the　place　over　first。　Now　you've　found　Royston　and　he's　got　you　right　where　he　wants　you。　It　was　the　coffee；　of　course；　some　paralysing　drug　。　。　。
　　
　　'I　believe　you've　been　wanting　to　meet　me　for　some　time；　Sabat！　the　other　was　euphoric；　pacing　slowly　to　and　fro；　hands　clasped　behind　his　back；　a　vicar…like　pose　which　he　had　perfected　until　it　became　a　habit。　'I　was　expecting　you；　of　course。　I　knew　that　you　would　find　your　way　here。　Consequently　preparations　have　been　made　for　your　arrival。'
　　
　　〃The　Archbishop　knows　I'm　here。'　Sabat　found　that　speaking　was　not　quite　such　a　problem　as　moving。　'It　won't　be　long　before　somebody　es　looking　for　me。'
　　
　　〃Then　let　them　e。'　Spode　laughed　again；　spread　his　large　hands　wide。　'Of　course　Mr　Sabat　came　here；　arrived　about　eight　on　Wednesday　morning。　He　wanted　a　list　of　old　crypts　which　might　possibly　be　used　for　the　purpose　of　Satanic　worship。　I　gave　him　some；　and　he　remarked　that　he　was　going　to　mence　his　search　up　in　the　north　of　England。　Yorkshire；　if　my　memory　serves　me　right。　He　drove　off　and　I　haven't　seen　him　since。　The　disposal　of　your　car；　not　to　mention　your　corpse；　presents　no　problem；　I　can　assure　you。'
　　
　　'What've　you　done　with　the　girl？'　Sabat's　tone　was　harsh；　emery　paper　being　rubbed　on　rough　wood。
　　
　　'You　refer　to　Miranda；　of　course。　A　lovely　body　even　if　she　was　a　mon　whore。'
　　
　　'Was？'
　　
　　'e　now；　Sabat；　you　didn't　expect　to　find　her　alive；　did　you？　Of　course　you　didn't。　However；　she　wasn't　just　punished　for　the　treachery　she　planned　against　me；　I　had　her　lined　up　for　a　spectacular　role　some　weeks　ago。'
　　
　　'What　role？'
　　
　　'Have　you　ever　been　to　Haiti；　Sabat？'　Spode　answered　with　a　question；　eyes　narrowing；　voice　sharper。
　　
　　Sabat　tried　to　nod　but　couldn't；　so　he　just　grunted　in　the　affirmative。
　　
　　'In　which　case　you　are　well　acquainted　with　bocors　and　houngans　and　various　voodoo　rites。　Voodoo　is　the　most　powerful　of　all　magic；　its　secrets　known　only　to　a　handful　of　people　living　today。　Few　of　the　bocors　in　Haiti　today　really　understand　it；　their　knowledge　merely　having　scratched　its　surface。　Pardon　a　well…used　cliche　but　a　little　knowledge　is　dangerous。　I　have　probed　deeper；　perhaps　one　day　I　shall　pay　the　full　price　for　the　bargains　I　have　made。　You　too；　Sabat；　for　nobody　summons　the　Lord　of　the　Cemetery　lightly。　However；　our　mutual　concern　is　to　live　for　the　present　…　you；　especially；　for　this　ing　night　will　be　your　last　。　。　。　certainly　in　human　form！'　Royston　Spode　laughed　deeply；　smacked　the　Fist　of　one　hand　loudly　into　the　palm　of　the　other。
　　
　　'For　Christ's　sake　tell　me　what　you've　done　with　Miranda！'
　　
　　'Be　patient/　Spode's　eyes　narrowed　cruelly；　'I　am　ing　to　that。　As　you　have　discovered　in　your　meddling；　I　have　in　my　possession　the　skeleton　of　William　Gardiner；　one　of　the　most　powerful　black　magicians　of　all　time；　more　powerful　than　the　great　Crowley　although　Gardiner　preferred　to　remain　in　virtual　anonymity。　He　offended　the　Church　so　they　tried　to　take　their　revenge　by　bringing　an　age…old　charge　of　heresy　against　him。　Even　the　courts　ridiculed　them。　But　Gardiner　had　the　last　laugh　。　。　。　oh；　indeed　he　laughed　loud　and　long。　He　took　his　powers　to　the　grave　with　him；　turned　that　consecrated　graveyard　of　St　Adrian's　into　desecrated　soil　so　that　his　followers　might　worship　there　for　centuries　to　e！　Until　you；　Sabat；　interfered　and　called　upon　Baron　Cimeterre　to　reign　supreme　there。　But　I　already　thwarted　you；　removed　those　sacred　bones　to　a　place　of　safety；　a　Satanic　temple　where　I　beseeched　the　powers　/serve　to　resurrect　William　Gardiner；　to　transfer　his　powers；　his　very　soul；　to　my　own　being。　And　this　they　will　do。　They　asked　for　blood；　a　human　sacrifice；　and　I　gave　them　Miranda　but　it　was　not　enough。　They　asked　for　the　blood　of　one　whose　evil　was　second　only　to　Gardiner's　。　。　。　that　of　your　brother　Quentin　which　courses　through　your　own　veins。　And　tonight　I　shall　give　them　just　that。　A　bonus；　in　fact；　for　I　shall　also　free　the　soul　of　Quentin　Sabat　from　its　incarceration！'
　　
　　Sabat's　brain　reeled。　A　madman　he　could　have　bated　but　Royston　Spode　was　not　mad　…　he　was　diabolically　clever；　one　who　had　pierced　the　dark　secrets　of　voodoo　and　had　harnessed　them　for　his　own　ends。　And　now　he　was　within　hours　of　obtaining　the　ultimate　in　satanic　power。　Miranda's　flesh　and　blood　had　only　partially　served　his　purpose；　Sabat's　would　be　the　final　piece　in　the　jigsaw　which　Spode　had　been　piling　over　the　years；　a　quest　that　had　begun　in　Haiti　and　was　to　end　in　England。
　　
　　'So　you　see；　Sabat；'　there　was　triumph　in　the　big　clergyman's　voice；　'you　have　obliged　me　by　ing　here　under　your　own　volition。　I　shall　now　take　you　to　the　temple；　the　very　crypt　you　once　visited　in　your　astral　body；　and　there　you　will　be　left；　quite　helpless；　to　meditate　on　your　fate。　Incidentally；　you　may　be　interested　to　learn　that　my　small　but　devoted　congregation　at　the　church　where　I　have　been　vicar　for　the　past　five　years；　ever　since　I　returned　to　this　country　from　Haiti　in　fact；　are　also　devout　members　of　my　coven。　Our　church　services　are　always　conducted　behind　locked　doors　for　my　initiated　like　to　。。。　shall　we　say　'savour　their　unique　position'　in　an　otherwise　mundane　life。　Evensong　today　will　be　an　occasion　for　rejoicing　in　the　knowledge　that　that　which　we　have　strived　for　has　now　e　to　pass；　There　will　be　munion；　too。　Desecrated　wine　to　be　drunk　。　。　。　well；　not　exactly　wine　。　。　。　a　claret　liquid　of　a　somewhat　thicker　texturel　But　e；　1　must　assist　you　to　your　last　resting　place　。　。　。　'
　　
　　Sabat　was　powerless　to　resist　as　Royston　Spode's　strong　hand　gripped　his　own；　hauling　him　to　his　feet。　Sabat　stumbled；　propelled　along　with　ease　by　his　captor；　his　eyelids　threatening　to　close　again　as　he　was　taken　along　the　narrow　winding　path　amid　the　fragrant　rhododendron　bushes；　then　down　into　the　dank；　stuffy　catabs　where　in　centuries　past　the　wealthy　landowners　had　buried　their　dead。
　　
　　Sabat　could　not　fight　off　the　urge　to　sleep　any　longer　once　his　body　was　laid　flat　on　that　stone　slab。　One　last　mocking　laugh　and　then　Spode　was　gone；　striding　back　up　into　the　sunlit　world　above　where　he　played　the　role　of　a　holy　man；　a　Jonathan　Wild；　the　spider　at　the　centre　of　the　web　of　evil；　ensnaring　his　followers；　dominating　their　souls　and　pelling　them　to　take　part　in　a　blasphemous　munion　service　in　this　beautiful　little　church　amid　the　poplar　trees。　And　this　evening　they　would　do　just　that；　calling　upon　the　powers　of　darkness　to　reward　them　this　ing　night；　that　they；　too；　might　partake　of　the　evil　which　existed　within　the　bones　of　a　long…dead　black　magician。
　　
　　As　Sabat　drifted　into　an　uneasy　slumber　he　thought　he　heard　a　faint　rattling　sound　close　by；　as　though　a　skeleton　had　eased　limbs　that　had　been　confined　for　years　in　a　cramped　coffin。　Various　odours　mingled　and　smarted　in　the　drugged　man's　nostrils；　aromas　which　he　vaguely　recognised　。　。　。　deposing　flesh；　the　mustiness　of　this　damp；　almost　airless　place。。。　and　an　iron　smell　…　like　blood　that　had　been　spilled　recently！
　　
　　And　in　his　final　conscious　thoughts　Sabat　conceded　defeat。　Because　he　accepted　that　for　the　first　time　in　his　life　he　was　powerless　to　fight。　He　might　never　awake　from　this　drugged　sleep　into　which　he　was　drifting。　The　coven　had　their　human　sacrifice；　it　mattered　not　to　them　whether　they　killed　him　sleeping　or　awake。　All　they　wanted　was　his　blood　…Quentin's　blood！
　　
　　
　　　CHAPTER　TEN
　　　
　　SABAT'S　ASTRAL　body　looked　down　upon　his　sleeping；　pale　physical　form。　He　grimaced　at　what　he　saw。　His　drugged　features　had　a　pallid；　corpse…like　look　about　them；　his　chest　scarcely　rising　and　falling　with　his　ultra…shallow　breathing。　And　beside　him　lay　the　hideous　skeleton　of　WilHam　Gardi…ner；　the　skull　and　arms　dark　with　congealed　blood；　turned　towards　him　as　though　it　laughed　with　that　horrible　cavity　of　a　mouth；　and　sought　to　embrace　him　with　its　long　arms。
　　
　　And　Miranda　。。。　Oh　Jesus；　they'd　pay　in　full　for　what　they　had　done　to　her！　Her　body　lay　in　a　recess；　cast…off　garbage　thrown　to　one　side　to　rot。　Her　head　lolled　back　exposing　a　huge　gash　the　length　of　her　neck；　her　previously　unblemished　flesh　matted　and　streaked　with　her　own　dried　blood。　And　as　a　final　insult　they　had　parted　her　thighs；　a　mockery　in　death　of　the　way　she　had　lived。
　　
　　Sabat　hesitated；　hovering　close　to　the　bowing　ceiling　of　the　crypt。　In　some　ways　he　doubted　the　wisdom　of　leaving　his　body。　It　still　lived　and　the　Reverend　Spode　had　only　to　return　and　administer　some　unspeakable　physical　attack　and　Sabat　would　be　prevented　from　returning　to　it。　Yet　if　he　lingered　within　himself　then　they　could　trap　his　astral　in　the　short　blackout　following　death　when　he　was　helpless；　and　give　only　Quentin　his　freedom。　Surely　Royston　Spode　realised　that　once　Sabat　slumbered　his　astral　would　be　able　to　escape；　or　was　there　some　ulterior　motive　behind　it？
　　
　　Certainly　Sabat　could　not　harm　the　living　in　his　astral　form；　he　could　only　attack　Royston　if　the　latter　chose　to　join　him　on　one　of　the　planes　and　it　was　obvious　that　the　evil　vicar　was　going　to　be　far　too　busy　throughout　the　day…fight　hours　to　do　that。　In　which　case　Spode　had　allowed　Sabat　astral　freedom　knowing　that　in　this　form　he　was　relatively　harmless　and　when　night　fell　he　would　instinctively　rejoin　his　body　in　the　hope　of　somehow　being　able　to　avert　death。
　　
　　There　was　nothing　to　be　achieved　by　remaining　in　this　place　of　death　and　mutilation　any　longer。　He　soared　with　a　sense　of　relief　down　that　wet　cold　passage；　shot　out　into　the　open　like　a　bat　emerging　at　dusk　from　its　daytime　roost。　Almost　with　reluctance　he　entered　the　vicarage；　now　sensing　the　atmosphere　of　latent　evil　which　he　had　failed　to　notice　earlier　because　he　had　been　blinded　to　it　by　his　faith　in　a　country　vicar。
　　
　　The　hall　and　drawing　room　were　empty　so　he　made　for　the　stairway；　knew　only　too　well　that　Royston　Spode　was　here　somewhere。　The　landing　was　wide　with　several　doors　leading　off　from　it。　He　hesitated；　almost　turned　back　because　there　was　no　time　to　waste　in　idle　curiosity。　But　it　would　only　take　a　few　seconds　and　he　had　several　hours　left　before　nightfall　when　the　coven　would　converge　on　their　temple　of　worship　to　carry　out　the　ultimate　act　of　depravity。
　　
　　The　Reverend　Royston　Spode　was　in　the　third　bedroom　which　Sabat　entered；　his　spreading　quivering　body　virt