gns.thegraveyardvultures-第20部分

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　　He　wondered　if　perhaps　an　interlude　in　which　their　bodies　dominated　over　all　outside　thoughts　might　be　the　answer　but　the　moment　his　fingers　started　to　stray　inside　her　nylon　garment　she　was　pushing　them　away。　'No；　Sabat；　not　that　again。　Please！　I'm　just。。。　not　in　the　mood。'
　　
　　He　sighed；　let　his　hand　fall　away。　It　was　going　to　be　a　very　long　day；　why　the　hell　weren't　they　the　type　who　could　play　a　nice　boring　conventional　game　of　chess？
　　
　　'What　brought　you　to　this　part　of　the　country？'　Apart　from　trying　to　pass　the　time　and　distract　Miranda's　mind　from　the　trials　that　lay　ahead；　Sabat　was　curious　about　her　background。
　　
　　'Circumstances　beyond　my　control。'　She　managed　a　tremor　of　a　smile。　'I　was　born　in　London　but　my　mother　and　father　split　up　when　I　was　ten。　I　stopped　with　Mum　and　in　order　to　make　enough　money　for　us　to　live　she　went　on　the　game。　She　didn't　make　any　secret　about　it；　each　night　she'd　go　out　and　solicit　and　then　she　started　plying　her　trade　at　home。　She　used　to　keep　a　rag　doll　in　the　window。　If　it　was　lying　down　it　meant　she　was　busy　with　a　client　but　if　it　was　sitting　up　she　was　open　for　business。　Christ；　there　were　some　ings　and　goings　in　our　house　and　I　got　the　idea　when　I　left　school　that　it　was　the　easiest　way　to　make　a　living。　She　didn't　try　to　stop　me　once　I　was　seventeen　but　I　can't　blame　her　for　encouraging　me。　Anyway；　to　cut　a　long　story　short；　Mum　went　off　to　live　with　this　client　and　after　a　time　I　decided　that　there　was　no　future　in　being　a　city　whore　so　I　took　off　in　search　of　better　surroundings。　The　country　always　appealed　to　me　so　in　due　course　I　found　my　way　up　here。　I　managed　to　find　enough　business　to　keep　me　going；　doing　most　of　my　soliciting　in　the　'Dun　Cow'。　Then　I　got　in　with　this　coven　for　kicks。　At　first　it　was　fun　but　all　I　was　actually　doing　was　letting　the　guys　screw　me　for　free　instead　of　ing　up　to　my　place　and　paying　a　tenner　for　it。　The　worst　day's　work　I　ever　did　was　letting　Horace　get　me　in　his　clutches。　After　that　it　was　too　late　to　make　the　break；　Horace　was　just　a　dirty　old　man　in　parison　with　Royston。　When　Royston　gets　his　talons　into　you；　you've　had　it！'
　　
　　'Then　shall　we　say　the　best　day's　work　you　ever　did　was　when　you　met　me；'　Sabat　said　and　felt　encouraged　by　her　nervous　laugh。
　　
　　After　that　they　settled　down　again　with　their　own　thoughts。　And　Sabat's　mind　wandered　away　from　Miranda。　He　recalled　that　warm　Sunday　afternoon　when　a　tousled…haired　junior　public　school　master　had　asked　him　to　go　for　a　walk　across　the　fields。　And　in　due　course　his　train　of　thoughts　led　to　that　leather…booted　colonel's　wife。　By　midday　he　was　fully　aroused　and　frustrated　which　wasn't　a　good　thing　when　he'd　got　to　put　himself　in　a　killing　mood　before　evening。　He　had　to　be　alert；　his　brain　razor　sharp。　Sexual　distractions　could　prove　to　be　his　downfall。
　　
　　He　glanced　down　at　Miranda；　she　had　fallen　into　an　uneasy　sleep。
　　
　　Sabat　had　slept　during　the　day；　mostly　shallow　dozes；　but　during　the　mid…afternoon　he　had　fallen　into　a　deep　slumber　in　which　he　had　dreamed。　He　was　underground　in　a　dank；　stale　place　where　moss　grew　on　the　walls　and　in　places　the　roof　threatened　to　collapse。　A　long　flight　of　broken　stone　steps　had　led　him　down　from　the　daylight　and　fresh　air　above；　and　he　doubted　the　wisdom　of　entering　this　subterranean　chamber。　Indeed；　he　would　have　turned　back；　given　way　to　his　rising　terror；　except　that　for　some　unknown　pelling　reason　he　had　to　go　on。　This　was　how　it　had　been　when　the　Pied　Piper　had　lured　away　the　rats　and　then　the　children　of　Hamlyn。　It　was　the　silence；　the　darkness　which　beckoned　Sabat；　a　call　he　could　not　deny；　a　bloodthirsty　weasel　hunting　the　rabbit　warrens。
　　
　　After　a　time　he　was　able　to　make　out　his　surroundings。　Stone　pillars　supported　the　sagging　roof　and　the　damp　floor　was　made　from　blocks　of　roughly　hewn　stone；　jagged　and　uneven。　A　crypt；　so　old　that　the　lettering　carved　by　some　long…dead　stonemason　was　now　indecipherable。
　　
　　As　his　eyes　became　accustomed　to　the　darkness　and　he　was　able　to　make　out　these　ancient　features；　Sabat　was　also　aware　of　the　presence　of　evil；　a　live　force　that　seemed　to　mock　him　from　every　patch　of　shadow；　the　rats　which　stared　at　him　with　glowing　red　eyes；　totally　unafraid　of　this　human　intrusion。
　　
　　The　crypt　was　far　larger　than　at　first　he　had　imagined；　almost　the　size　of　a　chapel；　built　below　ground　in　secret　to　hide　some　nefarious　activity　by　the　worshippers　who　slunk　in　here　during　the　nocturnal　hours　to　mortgage　their　souls　and　to　take　part　in　unbelievable　acts　of　obscenity。
　　
　　And　Sabat　was　not　alone：　With　a　start　he　saw　the　big　man　at　the　other　end；　busying　himself　before　an　altar　draped　with　black　tapestries。　On　the　sinister　flat　surface　lay　something　which　gleamed　starkly　white　in　contrast　to　its　background；　a　thing　which　was　so　old　and　broken　that　it　was　difficult　at　first　to　recognise　it　as　a　human　skeleton。　But　that　was　what　it　was；　a　broken　skull　and　rib　cage；　arms　and　legs；　all　polished　until　they　shone　almost　luminously；　hideously。
　　
　　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　beca