gns.thegraveyardvultures-第15部分

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　aloud。　Profanity　at　such　times　was　a　sure　way　to　fall　into　the　clutches　of　the　enemy。　He　began　to　pray　beneath　his　breath。
　　
　　Maurice　Storton　seemed　to　be　putting　up　a　desperate　resistance；　the　half…severed　neck　swivelling　so　that　the　saw　was　bumping　against　the　side　of　the　coffin；　the　bier　threatening　to　run　away　under　its　own　propulsion。
　　
　　Sabat　felt　a　tightening　of　his　own　chest　as　though　steel　bands　encircled　it　and　he　was　gulping　for　every　breath。　The　pain　began　to　spread　into　a　crippling　coronary　agony　threatening　to　throw　him　to　the　floor。　The　black　powers　were　both　very　strong　and　very　angry　tonight；　Sabat　knew　then　just　how　dangerous　the　man　known　as　Royston　was；　a　deadly　houngan　who　had　e　to　Britain　in　modern　guise　to　spread　his　vile　voodoo　magic。　Tonight　it　was　Royston's　turn　to　ask　Baron　Cimeterre　for　help。
　　
　　Just　when　Sabat　thought　that　he　could　hang　on　no　longer；　that　he　must　surely　collapse　to　the　floor　and　writhe　in　pain；　he　felt　the　blade　bite　into　the　wooden　base　of　the　coffin　and　with　a　dull　thud　the　head　rolled　to　one　side。
　　
　　Those　clamouring　voices　turned　to　cries　of　frustration　and　in　that　same　instant　his　own　pain　receded　to　a　gnawing　ache。　He　clutched　the　coffin；　sprawled　over　it；　somehow　managed　to　check　the　rush　of　vomit　before　it　reached　his　throat。　And　in　that　instant　he　knew　he　was　safe；　that　he'd　won　against　overwhelming　odds；　defeated　the　Lord　of　the　Cemetery　at　the　last　hurdle　and　thwarted　Royston　yet　again。
　　
　　Yet　Sabat　could　not　remain　here　to　bask　in　the　glory　of　another　round　won　against　the　powers　of　darkness。　Even　now　Royston　would　be　planning　revenge；　perhaps　police　already　speeding　to　the　scene　of　this　ghastly　mutilation；　tipped　off　by　an　anonymous　phone　call。　The　hacksaw　was　put　away　and　with　tired；　trembling　hands　Sabat　placed　the　severed　head　against　the　neck　stump。　And　as　he　closed　the　coffin　lid　he　caught　a　glimpse　of　the　corpse's　expression。　The　facial　muscles　were　perfectly　relaxed；　the　lips　sliding　slowly　back　to　cover　those　ill…fitting　dentures；　eyelids　beginning　to　droop。　For　one　second　Maurice　Storton　seemed　to　see　and　recognise　him；　it　could　have　been　a　trick　of　the　ethereal　starlight　filtering　in　through　the　elevated　windows　or　it　could　have　been　a　half　smile　of　gratitude；　the　heartfelt　thanks　of　a　tortured　soul　that　suddenly　found　itself　at　peace。
　　
　　Sabat　left　as　silently　as　he　had　e；　a　flitting　shadow　on　a　starlit　night　until　he　came　to　his　parked　Daimler。　The　prospect　of　the　long　drive　back　to　London　was　far　from　enthralling　but　he　knew　he　had　to　leave　the　heart　of　England　for　a　few　days；　he　could　not　risk　another　clash　with　Plowden　at　the　moment。
　　
　　He　needed　time　to　think；　to　plan　how　he　was　going　to　seek　out　Royston。　For　it　was　vital　that　this　crusading　houngan　be　destroyed　totally。
　　
　　
　　　CHAPTER　SIX
　　　
　　SABAT　HAD　scanned　the　newspapers　daily　for　the　past　week　but　nowhere　did　he　find　so　much　as　a　mention　of　'devil　worshippers'。　Surely　Maurice　Storton's　funeral　must　have　taken　place　by　now；　in　which　case　it　would　appear　that　the　undertakers　were　totally　unaware　that　the　corpse　had　been　beheaded　and　had　had　a　chisel　gouged　in　its　chest。　Or　else　they　did　not　want　to　incur　publicity　and　have　it　known　that　their　premises　had　been　broken　into。　Sabat　preferred　the　latter　theory；　for　once　the　body　was　in　its　grave　nobody　was　going　to　be　any　the　wiser。
　　
　　Locating　Royston　presented　problems。　Not　knowing　the　man's　surname　he　could　not　trace　him　by　the　usual　methods。　He　contemplated　going　to　the　astral　but　without　knowing　where　to　search　his　chances　of　success　were　exceedingly　slim。　Which　left　him　with　his　only　and　original　link　…Miranda！　If　he　visited　her　in　his　astral　body　there　was　no　guarantee　that　Royston　would　be　with　her　at　any　given　time　and　Sabat　could　spend　weeks　pursuing　this　fruitless　line　of　enquiry　night　after　night；　wasting　valuable　time　as　well　as　putting　himself　at　grave　risk；　for　there　was　no　doubt　that　this　evil　voodoo　cult　were　still　determined　to　destroy　him。　There　was　only　one　course　open　to　Sabat；　he　must　visit　Miranda　in　his　earthly　body　and　take　whatever　steps　were　necessary　to　force　the　information　he　required　out　of　her。　He　thought　about　it；　suddenly　found　himself　being　aroused。　Hell；　it　was　a　long　time　since　he'd　gone　a　fortnight　without　a　woman。　Nevertheless；　he　was　determined　that　such　pleasures　would　have　to　wait　and　attempted　to　satisfy　his　craving　in　the　only　way　he　knew　how。　But　it　did　not　stop　him　getting　an　erection　again　on　the　drive　back　up　to　Warwickshire。　Every　man　had　his　Achilles　heel。
　　
　　It　was　early　morning　when　Sabat　rang　the　doorbell　of　Miranda's　small；　semi…detached　house。　His　car　was　parked　at　the　other　end　of　the　road　for　in　all　probability　he　would　be　returning　to　London　tonight；　he　hoped　his　arrival　had　gone　unnoticed。
　　
　　There　was　no　answer　to　his　ring　but　some　inner　sense　told　him　that　the　house　was　not　deserted；　no　noise　or　movement；　just　a　feeling　that　Miranda　was　at　home。　Suppose　Royston　was　here　with　her；　his　stomach　tightened　at　the　thought；　for　the　big　man　could　just　slip　through　his　fingers　again　and　vanish　back　into　obscurity。　Sabat　needed　time　alone　with　Miranda！　Christ；　he　found　himself　being　turned　on　yet　again；　a　bulge　in　the　front　of　his　trousers　that　nobody　could　possibly　miss。　That　was　the　bitch's　weapon；　being　able　to　arouse　a　man；　weaken　them　even　when　she　wasn't　around　in　person。
　　
　　Then　Sabat　heard　soft　footsteps　ing　down　the　stairs　and　caught　a　glimpse　of　somebody　through　the　frosted　glass　who　could　be　none　other　than　Miranda　herself。　The　latch　clicked；　the　door　opened　a　foot；　was　pulled　wide　to　reveal　Miranda　dressed　in　a　black　negligee　which　left　virtually　nothing　to　the　imagination。　The　low　neckline　showed　the　soft　shapely　breasts；　the　firm　nipples　almost　spiking　their　way　through　the　material。　The　slender　figure　terminated　in　bare　feet　with　mauve　manicured　toe　nails。　Sabat's　eyes　ran　right　the　way　back　up　her　and　focused　on　the　soft　red　lips　drawn　back　in　a　seductive　smile；　the　hazel　eyes　which　gave　nothing　away　but　seemed　to　penetrate　his　thoughts。
　　
　　'Mr　Sabat！'　Faint　surprise；　her　voice　like　the　purring　of　a　contented　she…cat。　This　is　a　surprise。　Won't　you　step　inside？'
　　
　　She　held　the　door　wide；　closed　it　behind　him。　The　place　seemed　to　have　been　tidied　up　this　time；　no　cast…off　items　of　clothing　littering　the　adjoining　room；　and　instead　of　that　smell　of　stale　cooking　his　nostrils　flared　to　the　sharp　aroma　of　some　artificial　aerosol　cover…up。　Almost　as　though　she　had　been　anticipating　a　caller。
　　
　　'Do　sit　down。　A　drink？'
　　
　　He　followed　her　sweeping　hand；　noted　an　array　of　bottles　on　the　sideboard；　among　them　an　unopened　Black　Label。　'Whisky；'　he　said。　She　couldn't　have　tampered　with　this　one；　he　thought；　watching　her　break　the　seal。　She　poured　two　glasses；　handed　him　one；　fixed　him　with　those　eyes　again；　twin　laser　beams　boring　into　him。
　　
　　'　I　had　a　feeling　you　might　call　around　sometime。'　Her　tone　had　a　faint　hint　of　mockery　in　it。
　　
　　'Why？'　He　held　her　gaze　with　difficulty。
　　
　　'A　lot　of　men　who　eye　me　up　in　the　'Dun　Cow'　end　up　calling　on　me。'
　　
　　They　were　fencing　now　and　Sabat　was　dimly　aware　that　his　erection　was　growing　again　but　she　gave　no　hint　of　having　noticed　it。
　　
　　'And　what　makes　you　think　that's　my　reason？'
　　
　　For　the　first　time　her　eyes　dropped；　fixed　on　the　protrusion　behind　his　zip；　and　her　mouth　widened　into　a　smile。　'Certain　signs　that　I'd　have　to　be　blind　not　to　read。'
　　
　　Suddenly　Sabat　felt　himself　at　a　disadvantage；　the　tables　turned；　a　kind　of　helplessness　creeping　over　him。　Sex　had　always　been　his　big　weakness　but　he　had　not　realised　until　now　how　much　it　dominated　his　make…up。　Hell；　he　shouldn't　have　gone　a　whole　fortnight　without　a　woman！
　　
　　He　found　himself　nodding；　a　pleasant　sensation　spreading　out　from　his　lower　regions　into　the　rest　of　his　body。　He　didn't　care　about　anything　any　more　except　。　。　。　God；　it　was　as　though　he　was　a　spectator　from　afar　looking　down　upon　his　own　actions。　Pleasure　first；　business　afterwards；　there　was　no　reason　why　he　should　not　have　his　cake　and　eat　it。
　　
　　'Well？'　she　laughed。　She　had　set　her　drink　down　on　the　cabinet；　stood　facing　him；　arms　akimbo。　Somehow　that　flimsy　garment　had　e　undone　and　he　could　see　an　elongated　strip　of　nudity　right　the　way　down　her。　Jesus；　her　pubics　were　jet　black；　that　meant　her　auburn　hair　was　just　a　fake。　Black　suited　her；　he'd　always　had　a　preference　for　brunettes。　'I'm　right　aren't　I；　and　if　you　stick　it　out　any　longer；　Mr　Sabat；　you're　likely　to　burst　your　zip。　Say；　don't　you　have　a　first　name　now　that　we're　getting　on　intimate　terms？'
　　
　　'Mark。'　Somehow　his　voice　sounded　different；　muffled。　He'd　only　once　before　got　himself　into　a　state　like　this　and　that　was　in　a　Soho　sauna　when　the　masseuse　had　begun　to　finger　him。　She'd　been　a　brunette；　too。　Miranda　could　do　all　that　with　her　eyes。　So　subtle；　you　didn't　realise　you'd　been　seduced　until　it　was　too　late。
　　
　　Then；　with　one　deft　movement　she　shrugged　herself　out　of　that　negligee；　left　it　behind　her　on　the　floor；　advancing　on　him　naked　like　a　cat　stalking　its　prey。
　　
　　'Don't　tell　me　you're　shy；　Mark；　brimful　of　inhibitions。　You're　not　going　to　insist　on　keeping　your　clothes　on　all　night；　are　you？'
　　
　　Her　perfume　was　strong　and　heady；　had　him　inhaling　for　more　as　her　long　slim　fingers　flipped　their　way　down　his　shirt　buttons　and　undid　his　waistband。　Surely　she　didn't　really　have　the　strength　to　hoist　him　up　while　she　slid　his　lower　garments　down？　Maybe　he　was　co…operating　all　along　without　being　aware　of　it；　unable　to　shift　his　gaze　from　those　saucer…like　hazel　eyes。　Just　a　kid　really　but　those　auburn　locks　fooled　you。　Now　he　saw　her　as　she　really　was；　a　jet　black　bombshell；　willing　him　to　go　along　with　her。　Like　the　Creoles　said　Erzulie；　the　Black　Venus；　did。　A　succubus；　and　when　you　woke　up　next　morning　you　didn't　really　know　whether　it　had　happened　or　whether　you'd　dreamt　it　all。
　　
　　Stark　naked　he　lay　there　on　the　couch；　a　prize　specimen　at　a　canine　show　letting　the　judge　give　it　the　once　over。
　　
　　'Circumcised；　I　see。'