gns.thegraveyardvultures-第25节

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nication　with　each　other。
　　
　　She　was　convinced　that　she　had　died　a　couple　of　minutes　before　the　end　actually　came；　before　the　spouting　blood　slowed　to　a　thick　trickle　and　she　sagged　down　on　to　the　dripping　skeleton。　Her　astral　body　was　a　yard　or　so　above　her　corpse；　seeing　Royston　jerk　her　head　back；　ignoring　her　as　he　stared　into　the　blood…filled　eye　sockets　of　William　Gardiner；　seeking　a　movement；　a　sign　of　some　sort；　willing　life　where　there　was　only　death。
　　
　　'Does　he　live？'　Quavering　voices；　trembling　whispers　from　beyond　the　circle　of　light　cast　by　the　remaining　candle。　Most　of　the　coven　secretly　hoped　that　he　did　not。
　　
　　Royston　sucked　in　his　breath；　Miranda　saw　that　his　features　had　changed　yet　again；　sunken　and　wasted；　reminiscent　in　structure　of　that　awful　skull；　the　same　narrow　mouth　into　which　she　had　been　forced　to　thrust　her　tongue　in　a　stinking　french　kiss。
　　
　　'Life　is　there。'　Royston　lifted　one　of　the　fleshless　hands　as　though　testing　its　pulse。　'But　our　sacred　benefactor　is　not　to　be　reincarnated　so　easily。　He　has　accepted　our　sacrifice　but　craves　another！'
　　
　　Gasps　of　awe；　sheer　selfish　terror　in　each　of　the　listeners　came　like　a　shrieking　gale　to　flicker　the　single　candle　flame。　Some　of　those　present　remembered　how　Sheila　Dowson　had　been　taken　in　the　blackness　of　Satan's　mass。　Now　it　could　be　any　one　of　them；　summoned　by　this　terrible　high　priest　of　darkness；　a　call　which　none　could　ignore。　A　life　for　a　life。
　　
　　'More　blood。'　Royston　dipped　his　fingers　in　a　thick　warm　pool　beneath　the　bones；　a　flick　of　his　wrist　spraying　those　who　cowered　in　terror；　bringing　stifled　cries　from　their　dry　lips　as　they　felt　it　splattering　on　their　bowed　heads。　'And　I；'　his　voice　rose　to　a　pitch；　'have　manded　that　victim　to　e　here　to　me；　as　surely　he　will　before　long；　one　whose　blood　is　as　evil　as　our　revered　one　and　with　it　William　Gardiner　will　arise　and　lead　us　in　whatever　form　he　chooses　to　take！'
　　
　　Mature　men　and　women　whimpered　their　fear　for　they　knew　enough　of　the　one　who　addressed　them　to　accept　the　truth　of　his　words。　They　were　as　terrified　of　him　as　they　were　of　the　skeleton　which　had　been　exhumed　from　St　Adrian's　churchyard。　There　was　no　escape；　nowhere　to　hide；　for　this　priest　of　Satan　would　seek　them　out　and　exact　a　terrible　revenge。　Had　he　not　punished　Miranda　in　full　for　her　infidelity？
　　
　　'He　will　e；'　Royston's　tone　was　as　vibrant　as　an　electric　current；　reducing　their　naked　bodies　to　trembling　flesh。　'And　that　will　be　the　ultimate　sacrifice；　one　which　even　our　great　Master　will　not　refuse。　He　will　grant　our　request　and　bring　back　the　one　who　has　been　lost　to　us　for　so　long。　And　brethren；　when　that　moment　arrives；　we　shall　all　drink　the　blood　of　he　who　is　our　enemy　and　calls　himself　Sabat。
　　
　　The　remaining　black　candle　flickered　and　finally　extinguished　itself；　plunging　the　crypt　into　total　darkness。
　　
　　
　　　CHAPTER　NINE
　　　
　　IT　WAS　full　daylight　when　Sabat　awoke；　stirred　slowly　and　stretched　his　cramped　limbs。　In　spite　of　his　disfort　he　felt　refreshed；　sitting　up　with　a　start；　groaning　as　the　memory　of　those　nocturnal　hours　came　back　to　him　in　full；　the　full　horror　of　all　that　had　happened。
　　
　　He　had　fought　off　the　psychic　attack；　a　conjuror　playing　a　final　trick　when　all　that　had　gone　before　had　been　a　flop；　deceived　Quentin　in　a　manner　in　which　his　brother's　soul　would　not　be　fooled　again。　But　in　the　end　the　dark　powers　had　won　because　exhaustion　had　claimed　Sabat；　thwarted　his　search　for　Miranda。　He　knew　that　without　a　doubt　the　prostitute　would　be　dead　by　now。
　　
　　One　moment　when　his　eyes　misted　over　and　then　he　had　cast　off　the　feeling　of　grief。　The　thought　of　vengeance　replaced　it；　hardening　his　features；　pumping　a　grim　determination　into　the　lithe　body　which　gunned　the　engine　of　the　Daimler　and　had　the　speedometer　needle　flickering　on　70　mph　within　the　first　hundred　yards。
　　
　　There　was　no　immediate　hurry　now；　yet　Sabat　drove　like　one　possessed　（as　he　surely　was）；　cornering　with　screeching　tyres　on　the　winding　road；　promising　himself　that　this　man　called　Royston　would　pay　not　only　with　his　life　but　with　his　soul。　And　Sabat　would　not　make　the　same　mistake　which　he　had　made　when　he　had　confronted　Quentin　in　that　remote　forest　clearing。　God　or　Satan；　he　would　use　either　to　exact　the　terrible　revenge　he　sought；　Suddenly　he　saw　the　motor…cyclist；　a　hurtling　denim…clad　rider　ing　towards　him；　taking　the　left　hand　bend　too　wide　and　too　fast；　unhelmeted　so　that　an　expression　of　terror　was　visible　even　in　that　fraction　of　a　second。　Sabat's　reactions　were　as　sharp　as　ever；　pulling　the　wheel　over；　mounting　the　grass　verge；　miraculously　avoiding　a　head…on　collision。
　　
　　Now　everything　was　slow　motion；　every　detail　hideously　accentuated　as　though　deliberately　to　torture　the　two　men。　The　biker　was　alongside　the　Daimler；　a　stunt　rider　doing　crazy　aerobatics　as　his　machine　reared　like　a　plunging　rodeo　mount。　Sabat　had　two　fields　of　vision；　in　his　wing　mirror　he　watched　the　riderless　motorbike　hit　the　ground　and　career　on　a　diagonal　course　for　the　opposite　ditch；　while　through　the　windscreen　he　saw　the　thrown　rider　reach　his　apex；　arms　and　legs　kicking　like　a　sky…diver。　ing　down。　So　slowly；　head　first；　long　blonde　hair　flowing；　mouth　wide　to　emit　a　terrible　scream。　For　one　awful　split　second　the　two　men　exchanged　glances；　the　clear　blue　eyes　of　the　doomed　youth　blazing　terror　and　hate。　'You　killed　me；　you　bastard。　Murderer　'
　　
　　Sabat　seemed　to　feel　the　impact　of　bone　smashing　on　tarmac；　a　stomach…churning　thud　that　vibrated　through　the　car。　Still　it　was　slow　motion；　an　action　replay　of　a　gymnast's　head　stand　。　。　。　except　that　the　performer　now　had　no　head！　Smashed　bone　and　pulped　flesh；　a　morass　that　was　scarlet　with　stringy　grey　frogspawn；　still　tottering　in　a　vertical　position。　Then　slowly　collapsing
　　
　　It　had　seemed　an　eternity　yet　could　have　lasted　no　more　than　a　few　seconds。　Sabat's　pulses　had　started　to　race　but　he　checked　them；　psychologically　steadying　every　nerve　as　he　had　been　trained　to　do　during　his　SAS　service。　He　opened　the　door；　eased　himself　out；　stood　looking　down　on　the　bloody　remains　of　what　had　once　been　a　human　being。　Shredded　clothing；　a　gash　that　opened　up　the　stomach　so　that　the　entrails　spilled　out；　yards　of　coiled　human　piping。
　　
　　Sabat　glanced　up　and　down　the　road。　There　was　nobody　in　sight。　Probably　this　unfortunate　victim　of　their　brief　encounter　was　a　farm　labourer　speeding　on　his　way　to　keep　an　appointment　with　a　herd　of　cows　whose　udders　were　full　to　bursting。　No　sadness；　no　revulsion；　seeing　things　as　they　were；　as　fate　had　ordained。　Alive　one　second；　dead　the　next；　a　gamble　millions　of　people　won　or　loct　with　every　passing　day。
　　
　　Sabat　turned　away；　got　back　into　his　car。　There　was　nothing　he　could　have　done　anyway。　Had　the　other　still　been　alive　he　would　have　put　him　out　of　his　misery　with　the　same　impartiality　with　which　a　vet　dispatches　a　suffering　animal。　He'd　done　it　once　before；　a　swift　blow　with　a　starting　handle　to　the　head　of　a　young　girl　mutilated　beyond　recognition　in　the　wreckage　of　a　Mini。　Instant　death　was　preferable　to　prolonged　suffering。　God　gave　life　and　God　took　it　away；　and　as　Man　was　a　part　of　God；　Sabat　had　felt　justified　in　his　decision。
　　
　　He　drove　away；　the　Daimler　picking　up　speed。　To　have　wasted　time　reporting　the　accident　would　have　caused　delays　which　Sabat　could　not　afford。　Lengthy　statements　would　have　taken　hours；　the　next　motorist　to　pass　along　this　road　could　shoulder　that　responsibility。　And　with　a　long　expel…lation　of　breath；　Sabat　pushed　the　matter　from　his　mind；　cast　it　into　the　oblivion　of　human　forget　fulness。
　　
　　It　was　8。00am　when　he　spied　his　destination　below　him；　a　tiny　village　dominated　by　a　church　spire　protruding　above　a　line　of　tall　poplars　set　in　a　small　river　valley。　The　incline　was　steep　and　winding；　giving　him　a　panoramic　view　of　the　countryside；　sheep　and　cattle　grazing　the　meadowland。　Perfect　peace；　so　far　removed　from　Royston　and　his　vile　followers。
　　
　　Sabat　should　have　been　able　to　relax　but　for　some　reason　he　could　not。　Every　nerve　in　his　body　was　tense；　a　tautness　that　gave　him　that　feeling　of　foreboding　again。　But　that　was　probably　a　reaction　to　his　failure　to　find　Miranda　in　time　for　there　was　no　doubt　in　his　mind　that　she　was　dead　by　now；　having　suffered　horribly　at　the　end。
　　
　　One　or　two　people　were　astir　in　the　sleepy　village　street；　an　elderly　woman　pausing　on　the　steps　of　a　grocery　shop　to　stare　at　the　Daimler；　squinting　as　she　tried　to　identify　the　driver。　Strangers　here；　Sabat　decided；　were　not　an　everyday　occurrence。
　　
　　He　slowed　by　the　church；　could　just　make　out　the　gabled　outline　of　the　black　and　white　timbered　vicarage　which　stood　in　the　adjoining　grounds；　an　austere　building　partly　screened　from　the　road　by　tall　shrubberies。　He　saw　the　entrance　gates　were　open；　eased　the　aristocratic　nose　of　the　Daimler　into　the　drive。
　　
　　Sabat　swung　the　car　round　on　the　semi…circular　forecourt　in　front　of　the　house；　switched　off　the　engine　and　surveyed　his　surroundings。　A　typical　churchman's　abode；　he　smiled　wryly；　a　gardener　paid　a　pittance　out　of　the