gns.cannibalcult-第24部分

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s　reaching　out　for　her。
　　
　　But　they　were　not　the　soft　hands　of　Sister　Camille。　Instead　they　were　rough　and　strong　and　so　deathly　cold；　fingers　that　felt　and　probed　at　her　body；　icy　breath　fanning　her　face。
　　
　　She　went　rigid；　wanted　to　hold　back　but　did　not　dare。　The　touch；　although　abrasive　and　ungentle；　was　all　too　familiar。　A　scream　rose　into　her　throat　but　it　never　made　it　as　her　vocal　chords　constricted。　She　wanted　to　shrink　away　but　her　body　was　held　there　as　though　by　invisible　bonds。　It　was　impossible　to　disobey　Louis　Nevillon！
　　
　　The　candles　had　gone　out。　Nothing　but　pitch　darkness　everywhere。　Perhaps　it　was　best　that　way；　for　the　sight　of　the　one　who　was　roughly　fondling　her　could　have　snapped　her　mind。　She　had　waited　longingly　for　this　reunion　and　now　that　it　had　arrived　it　was　the　most　terrible　moment　of　her　present　life。　She　wondered　if　he　sensed　it；　prayed　that　he　did　not；　for　the　Beast　of　France　took　a　terrible　revenge　on　any　who　rejected　him。　She　tried　to　tell　herself　that　she　loved　him；　that　it　was　just　the　shock　of　the　culmination　of　all　those　months　of　waiting。　But　she　knew　that　she　lied。
　　
　　She　heard　his　heavy　breathing；　a　rasping　of　air　in　stale　lungs　that　had　to　learn　how　to　inhale　and　expel　again。　Limbs　that　were　stiff　and　wooden　after　weeks　of　idleness　in　death。　Love…making　had　bee　an　unfamiliar　exercise　for　Louis　Nevillon　and　she　must　bear　with　him。
　　
　　Madeleine　tried　to　relax　but　it　was　impossible；　terror　rendered　her　tense　and　unyielding　so　that　he　had　to　force　her　legs　wide。　His　closeness　was　like　an　iceberg。　Yet　if　he　lived　then　surely　his　heart　must　pump　warm　blood。　Or　in　this；　his　latest　ing　again；　had　he　chosen　to　bee　one　of　the　living　dead？
　　
　　He　took　her　forcefully；　an　animal…like　mating；　dragging　her　up　and　forcing　her　to　kneel　facing　away　from　him；　having　to　hold　her　upright　by　her　hair　or　else　she　would　have　fallen　to　the　floor。　Her　strength　had　deserted　her　in　this　terrible　hour　and　she　was　no　more　than　a　rag…doll　to　be　manipulated　by　that　body　out　of　the　coffin；　to　do　his　bidding　in　everything　he　chose。
　　
　　A　hardness　deep　in　her；　a　freezing　cold　that　numbed　her　very　womb　and　destroyed　all　sensitivity；　she　was　even　rendered　insensible　to　pain；　for　surely　he　was　hurting　her。　Her　hair　felt　as　though　it　was　being　torn　from　her　head　by　the　roots；　sharp　fingernails　gouged　unmercifully　at　her　breasts。　She　was　aware　of　the　slamming　of　his　powerful　thighs　against　her；　pile…driving　blows　that　vibrated　every　bone　in　her　frame。
　　
　　How　much　longer　could　it　go　on？　Madeleine　didn't　know　and　she　didn't　care。　Her　brain　was　numbed；　a　kind　of　sedation　that　left　her　with　a　dim　awareness　of　the　awftilness　of　it　all；　but　checked　her　rising　terror。　Her　beloved　would　not　hurt　her。　Only　because　she　had　been　rendered　insensitive　to　pain！　He　was　a　monster；　fully　aroused；　a　lusting　thing　that　had　survived　the　guillotine　and　escaped　the　grave；　not　Louis　who　had　e　back　to　her　before　when　he　had　defied　death。
　　
　　Would　he　never　be　spent？　Even　as　the　thought　crossed　her　mind　she　experienced　a　shooting　coldness　inside　her。　Her　head　was　jerked　right　back；　threatening　to　dislocate　her　neck；　and　those　icy　fingers　were　squeezing　mercilessly　at　her　breasts。　She　heard　him　now；　a　beast　of　the　wild　roaring　at　the　peak　of　its　lust；　an　unholy　orgasm　that　blinded　it　to　all　else。　This；　surely；　was　the　rutting…stand　of　the　undead。
　　
　　She　was　thrown　forward；　pulled　back　again；　cold　kisses　like　iced　suction　pads　on　her　neck　and　back；　that　frozen　penetration　seeming　to　swell　inside　her。　She　tried　to　cry　out　but　only　succeeded　in　gasping　hoarsely；　a　noise　that　might　have　been　mistaken　for　an　orgasmic　grunt。　There　was　to　be　no　let…up　in　this　frenzied　copulation　that　had　begun　over　three　centuries　before　and　was　destined　to　continue　for　eternity。　If　he　killed　her　then　she　would　live　again　and　he　would　be　waiting　for　her。　If　she　fled　then　there　was　no　hiding　place　in　this　world；　or　the　one　beyond　the　shadows。
　　
　　She　had　a　sensation　of　flying　through　the　air　and　in　that　instant　all　feeling　was　restored　to　her　body。　Covering　her　head　with　her　arms；　knowing　that　she　must　fall　sometime。　Then　she　hit　the　floor　with　a　bone…jarring　force；　lay　there　bruised　and　winded　as　the　terror　finally　seeped　back。　Her　brain　could　not　cope；　sought　a　logical　explanation。　It　wasn't　him；　you　were　masturbating；　got　carried　away。　Liar！
　　
　　Madeleine　could　not　see　him　but　she　knew　he　was　there；　a　silent　thing　that　stood　in　the　darkness；　one　who　needed　no　light　to　see；　an　omni…powerful　creature　who　had　satisfied　himself　on　her　and　had　spurned　her　undying　love　for　him。
　　
　　This　was　not　Louis；　not　he　whom　she　had　served　so　faithfully　for　so　long。　Something　had　gone　wrong。。。
　　
　　She　could　hear　him　moving　about；　purposeful　footsteps　as　he　busied　himself　with　some　task。　She　heard　the　clank　of　the　firebox；　heavy　logs　being　deposited　inside；　a　crackling　of　flames。　Oh　God；　he　was　stoking　the　oven；　preparing　to　satisfy　his　hunger　after　a　long　abstinence。
　　
　　Madeleine　wanted　to　cry　out；　'No；　Louis。　There　is　no　need。　I　have　cooked　meat　in　readiness　for　your　ing。　It　is　there　on　the　table。'　But　her　voice　had　gone；　just　lips　moving　but　no　sound　ing　forth。　Sheer　terror　had　claimed　her；　turned　her　into　a　mute　slave。　She　was　praying；　not　to　the　God　of　the　convent　at　Aix…en…Provence　but　to　one　much　older；　one　she　had　once　witnessed　in　the　darkness　of　a　black　mass　when　Louis　Nevillon　had　presided；　for　only　he　could　have　called　up　such　a　powerful　entity；　a　beast…like　thing　that　snorted　in　the　shadows；　only　its　glowing　red　eyes　visible。　An　overpowering　stench　of　putrefaction；　a　thundering　of　powerful　hooves。　You　dared　not　look　any　closer。
　　
　　Now　she　prayed　that　it　might　e　again　and　save　her　from　one　who　had　once　loved　her。　Or　that　it　might　send　Sabat　and　that　he　would　be　in　time。
　　
　　
　　　CHAPTER　SIXTEEN
　　　
　　SABAT　PULLED　the　Daimler　off　the　road　and　killed　the　engine。　A　silent　monster；　it　sat　sedately　amidst　the　trees；　out　of　its　own　environment　of　hard　roads　and　city　lights。　It　would　have　been　sacrilege　to　take　it　up　that　rutted　track。
　　
　　Sabat　stretched　in　the　seat；　relaxed。　He　should　have　been　hurrying　with　a　sense　of　urgency　up　that　muddy　slope　but　instead　he　felt　lethargic。　Not　tired；　more　of　a　basking　in　his　own　satisfaction。　Schmid　and　his　coven　were　finished；　there　would　be　nothing　to　fear　from　them。
　　
　　A　strange　feeling　which　he　found　difficulty　in　ing　to　terms　with。　A　muzziness　that　fogged　his　thinking；　voices　screaming　at　him　but　he　neither　understood　nor　recognised　them。　It　might　have　been　Quentin；　his　own　soul　in　conflict；　but　he　ignored　it。
　　
　　He　sat　there　staring　through　the　windscreen　at　the　dark　mass　of　indistinguishable　trees；　shapes　that　might　have　been　demons　out　there　on　a　night　when　the　ultimate　in　evil　was　about　to　be　reborn。　Possibly　the　event　had　already　happened。　In　which　case　Sabat　was　too　late。　His　reasoning　faltered　again；　a　man　with　amnesia　whose　memory　came　back　to　taunt　him　in　brief　flashes　and；　like　a　will…o'…the…wisp；　vanished　before　he　could　claim　them　for　his　own。
　　
　　It　was　like　a　kind　of　dream　going　on　all　around　you　and　yet　you　played　a　vital　role　in　it；　being　swept　along　by　events　which　in　themselves　controlled　you。　A　sense　of　helplessness；　too；　but　you　didn't　try　to　fight　it。
　　
　　He　flicked　on　the　interior　light　of　the　car；　experiencing　a　burning　desire　to　see　his　own　face　in　the　mirror。　He　had　almost　forgotten　what　he　looked　like；　needed　to　re…acquaint　himself　with　himself。　He　stared；　saw　his　own　reflection　in　the　small　oblong　and　a　faint　cry　of　surprise　and　fear　escaped　his　lips。　For　the　face　that　stared　back　at　him　was　not　wholly　his　own！Nor　Quentin's；　as　his　brother　had　once　been！
　　
　　There　was　certainly　a　resemblance；　but　the　features　had　undergone　a　drastic　change！　Harsh；　vicious；　the　eyes　seemed　to　have　moved　in　closer；　narrowed　to　an　expression　of　sheer　maliciousness。　The　nose　decidedly　more　hooked；　like　the　beak　of　a　fierce　bird　of　prey。　The　mouth　a　grim　bloodless　slit。　The　long　hair　appeared　to　have　taken　on　a　different　texture；　coarser；　falling　about　the　collar；　now　streaked　with　silver　grey。　Sabat　stared　in　disbelief　at　an　overall　barely　recognisable　reflection。　Ancient！　It　was　Sabat　and　yet　not　Sabat。　Something　familiar　about　the　facial　change；　a　countenance　upon　which　he　had　gazed　recently。　And　then　he　knew！
　　
　　Merciful　God；　only　Sabat　could　accept　this　as　possible！　That　dream；　his　panion　of　that　night　of　evil　whom　he　had　helped　put　those　witches　to　the　torch。　Pierre　de　Lancre　lived　again　in　the　body　of　Sabat！　'Ifyou　ever　have　need　of　me　do　not　hesitate　to　call　me。　Do　that　and　Pierre　de　Lancre　will　e；　that　I　promise。'
　　
　　And　the　witchfinder　had　e；　true　to　his　word！
　　
　　Sabat　stared　at　his　hands；　talon…like　with　long　ragged　dirty　fingernails；　the　skin　dry　and　cracked；　held　them　up　to　his　face　in　revulsion；　watched　them　tremble。　Yet　Pierre　de　Lancre；　the　witchfinder；　had　e　when　he　needed　him　most　and　this　was　no　time　to　spurn　his　help。
　　
　　Sabat　switched　off　the　light；　opened　the　door　of　the　Daimler　and　slid　silently　out。　He　stood　there　in　the　pitch　blackness　breathing　in　the　fragrant　smell　of　damp　pine　woods；　suddenly　felt　stronger；　fitter。　It　was　as　though　the　remaining　effects　of　his　illness　had　evaporated　and　he　bit　on　those　thin　lips　until　he　tasted　blood　as　he　remembered　everything　that　had　happened　to　him　since　that　fateful　trip　up　the　Jungfrau；　No　longer　did　he　feel　pity　for　Madeleine。　She　was　a　witch　who　had　so　far　escaped　the　fiery　stake；　just　as　Louis　Nevillon　had　cheated　the　guillotine。　Now　they　must　both　pay　in　full　for　their　evil　which　spanned　three　centuries！
　　
　　He　moved　off；　treading　silently　through　the　tall　pines；　a　flitting　shadow　in　the　faint　starlight。　He　checked　that　he　still　had　his　？38；　reminding　himself　at　the　same　time　that　this　night　he　would　need　more　than　mortal　weapons　to　overe　his　dangerous　adversaries。　They　could　not　guess；　surprise　was　his　trump　card。
　　
　　It　took　him　twenty　minutes　to　reach　the　clearing　in　which　the　small　chapel　stood。　His　pulses　were　racing　with　the　eagerness　of　a　hunting　beast　of