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gns.thegraveyardvultures-第7部分
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ram was vital for his own safety for tonight his astral body must go forth and scour the countryside if these modern necromancers were to be found。 And during every second that he was away from his earthly body； Mark Sabat would be in dire peril。
The early evening sunlight glinted on the sluggish waters of the winding； narrow river。 The banks were sheer but the protruding roots of overhanging trees offered a precarious hold for anyone foolish enough to climb down to the water。 Likewise； these same roots extended below the surface and often impeded the progress of debris floating downstream； items of cast…off clothing； a treadless tyre 。 。 。 or a drowned corpse！
Detective Inspector Plowden stood on the bank below a spreading willow tree and hoped that he wasn't going to have to clamber down there； he'd always had a secret fear of deep muddy rivers even though he was a paratively good swimmer。 A childhood terror he'd never shrugged off； a lurking thought at the back of his mind that the murky current might hold something slimy and dangerous。 Like an alligator that had escaped from a reptile house。 Logically there was almost five million to one against such a happening； but he didn't like these sort of rivers any the more for that reasoning。 And when he set eyes on the dead body which the frogman had dragged up from the depths he decided that the alligator odds had been considerably reduced。
Plowden chewed on his lower lip； reached for a cigarette but thought that the taste of tobacco might make him throw up。 His stomach churned and he tasted something sharp and acid in the back of his throat。
'It's a girl；' the matter…of…fact dapper Sergeant Hurst at his elbow felt that somebody had to say something and thought； at least I think it bloody well is。
A group of plainclothes detectives helped to lift the body up the bank； a white limp thing covered with algae and other water weed like some hideous evil mermaid。 They laid it down on the grass and the head lolled to one side exposing an open gash where the throat had been； a cavity that teemed with some species of feeding beetles。
'Christ！' the frogman removed his mask； grimaced； 'I've found a few in my time but nowt to beat that。 The fuckin' rats must've thought Christmas'd e early！'
'Shut up！' Plowden's tension crackled as he forced himself to kneel beside the corpse。 God； to think he had to get close to a thing like this； touch it I He almost snatched his fingers away； it was like the feel of a dead reptile。 The hair was matted into a mud ball； some of it torn out by the roots like an angry gardener who had gone berserk with a patch of squitch； you couldn't even tell the colour of the strands。 Open eyes； Plowden resisted the urge to close them； they seemed to be staring at him。 The frogman was right； rats had been feeding on the flesh； gnawing it right down to the bones in places and that hole in the stomach was where they had gone after the entrails。 Raw tripe； Plowden nearly spewed at the thought。
It wasn't his job really。 No sir！ He was conducting an enquiry into black magic worship and the desecration of graves。 This was a straight forward case of drowning that the boys in blue could look after； consult the missing persons file； just a matter of elimination and then identification。 There shouldn't be any problems。 The CID were looking for a missing skeleton； not a fresh corpse； they couldn't waste valuable time on this。
He leaned back on his haunches； decided he could manage a cigarette after all。 He'd have to hang on here for a while until somebody came to relieve him； then he'd get back to the task of finding that skeleton。 No need even to look at that revolting corpse anymore。
'What're those marks？' The frogman was kneeling down stabbing a finger at the dead girl's forehead。
'Rats； I expect。 。 。 ' Detective Inspector Plowden's voice died away。 He hadn't meant to look again but his policeman's training had directed his gaze automatically back to the corpse； picked out a couple of deep indentations that had gouged the flesh and penetrated the skull in an ugly twin fracture。 Death…blows； all right。 Nobody could have lived after those； a crude bludgeoning。 Jesus； his eyes narrowed； this could just be murder I
Then his stomach was lurching again； and his late sandwich lunch almost came back。 It wasn't the sight of death； nor the brutality of the blows that had him retching。 Instead there was a familiarity about those marks； the feeling one gets halfway through a second…rate TV film that you've seen it at the cinema years ago； a gradual dawning on the memory that you recognise it because you thought how bloody awful it was at the time but it still scared hell out of you。
'It don't look like rats to me。' The frogman was persistent； determined that his own observations should not be credited to somebody else。 'Looks like a fuckin' sheep's walked over 'er。'
'No；' Plowden straightened up； swayed； and supported himself against the willow trunk while a wave of dizziness passed； 'not a sheep。 I'd say it was the goat those bastards mated that other corpse with that was responsible for this！'
And suddenly the evening wasn't so balmy after all。 Three hardened police officers felt the perspiration starting to chill on their bodies。
CHAPTER THREE
IT WAS eleven o'clock when Sabat climbed naked into his bed within the pentagram。 He was tense and uneasy but that would pass once he willed his mind and body to relax。 Thankfully this time he experienced no erotic thoughts； no arousement。
Down below the customers were filing out of the pub； their conversation noisy。 Car doors slammed on the carpark and engines were revved noisily； loud farewells acpanied by coarse laughter。 Somebody was singing noisily； being told to 'shaddup'。
But within half…an…hour all was quiet except for the clinking of glasses being washed in the bar。 Sabat took a deep breath； expelled it slowly and began to relax。 Now he had the difficult task of attempting to project his astral body to a particular destination； a sort of directive to be issued to his subconscious。 To have embarked upon a haphazard exploration of the first plane would have been both useless and dangerous。
There was nothing to be gained by conducting a vigil at the churchyard； the police were too active at present for the necromancers to risk returning there just yet。
Miranda！ Sabat decided upon this course of action almost instantaneously。 It surprised him and he wondered if perhaps his sexual desire was taking over again。 A moment's reflection and he knew it wasn't。 There was something about her that had attracted his attention earlier； almost an intuition which he couldn't explain。 And in the past he had followed more slender hunches than this one and e up with the right answer； a kind of ultra…perception； a blind faith in his own holy powers。
Sleep came slowly but eventually he felt himself slipping away from his physical body； gazing down on it from aloft； experiencing the same fear he always felt when he left his earthly form； that the evil powers might somehow stop him returning。 A lot of people had died that way； death attributed to natural causes。 There had been a lot of nonsense talked and written in recent years about people dying and recalling how their astrals had been drawn back into their bodies； mostly it was just a kind of a in which they became aware that they actually had an astral body。 They had not really died at all。
Sabat was floating above the village； now wearing dark flowing robes。 A naked man passed him； striking upwards； someone who had recently died and had not yet learned the art of clothing himself。 Sabat wondered about changing his form； maybe an owl or a bat but it should not be necessary yet； the only person who knew him was Quentin and as Quentin was himself there was no point。
The village slept under a mantle of starlight； rooftops glinting faintly。 The church looked almost a ruin from this angle； gaping holes in the roof where the slates had blown off and the weathercock on the steeple hanging precariously as though it might fall off at any moment。 He paused； scanned the overgrown cemetery。 A mass of dark shadow that could have hidden anything so he went down lower。 But there was nothing there； not even a watching； hidden policeman。
Up again； a feeling of exhilaration which he checked with a reminder of the importance of vigilance。 The dark powers surely knew by now that he was abroad。 He left the old village behind； floated on to where the big housing estates began。 The landlord at the 'Dun Cow* had described earlier where Miranda lived with a knowing wink and a half…smile。 'You'll be unlikely to find her at home in the evenings； sir；' Herbert Walley had said。 'Unless of course she's reason to go back home。 Most of the time she's here in the bar and if you want to see her 。。。 '
'I don't；' Sabat had smiled。 'I was just curious； that's all。'
Walley had grinned but refrained from passing further ment。 Obviously he was used to receiving enquiries about Miranda；
Every house looked the same； square or oblong boxes； detached or semi…detached； all with minute open…plan gardens； the planners determined to cram as many as possible into every square acre。 Sabat glided over avenues and crescents； through a maze of red London brick； until finally he found the house he was seeking and passed inside。
It was a small； single…person type dwelling with a tiny entrance hall leading off into an L…shaped kitchen…cum…dining…room。 Untidy； a smell of stale cooking and items of unwashed clothing draped over chairs。 Sabat checked； his acute astral senses picking up a sound； a low moan that appeared to be rising to a crescendo。 It was ing from upstairs； and it sounded as though somebody was in pain。
It had never occurred to him that Miranda might not be alone； the darkened house leading him to believe that she was either still out or else asleep in bed。 He halted in the bedroom doorway and stared in amazement at the scene which greeted him by the light of a low…watt table lamp。 Miranda was in bed all right； but she certainly wasn't alone and neither was she in pain。 In fact she was in the throes of physical ecstasy； copulating wildly and apparently on the brink of a climax。
Her supple body gyrated as she straddled the man beneath her； her head hung forward so that her long auburn hair spilled down and screened her small breasts； two pink and firm nipples protruding through the strands。 Loud gasps as she appeared to struggle for breath； arms wind…milling wildly。
Sabat's gaze switched to the man lying beneath her。 He was big； only his height preventing him from being excessively fat。 Even so； surplus flesh bulged and rippled as Miranda pressed down on him。 Perspiration glistened on his high brow and a receding hairline was thinning a path that would eventually result in a bald crown。 Small； close…set eyes flickered open from time to time and the thin； bloodless lips were pursed as he； too； delighted in this encounter。
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