gns.cannibalcult-第11部分

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　that　still　lingered　on　his　palate　from　last　night's　meal；　smelled　it　again　here　as　it　drifted　up　from　that　month…old　corpse。
　　
　　It　was　Louis　Nevillon　all　right。　　The　head　so　neatly　severed　from　the　shoulders　rested　on　the　belly；　as　though　the　navel　had　engorged　and　developed　features。　Eyes　that　should　have　been　closed　were　wide　and　staring：　seeing！　The　nostrils　were　clogged　with　mucus　that　had　bubbled　and　dried；　the　lips　open　as　though　rigor　mortis　had　frozen　that　final　curse。　White　flesh　bloated　as　though　it　was　ready　to　live　again。
　　
　　Madeleine's　fear　was　gone；　replaced　by　an　expression　of　sadness　that　was　slowly　transforming　into　one　of　breathless　joy。　She　smiled；　her　dark　eyes　sparkled；　and　she　was　leaning　over　the　mutilated　remains　of　the　Beast　of　France。
　　
　　'My　dearest；'　a　whisper　that　was　intended　only　for　dead　ears。　'You　have　not　left　me　after　all。　You　knew　that　I　would　e　to　you；　that　soon　we　shall　be　together　again。'
　　
　　Her　lips　pouted；　descended　slowly　on　to　Louis　Nevillon's　bloodcaked　rigid　mouth　in　a　long　succulent　kiss　between　the　living　and　the　dead；　her　tongue　thrusting　into　that　icy　cavern　as　though　simulating　copulation　in　preparation　for　his　resurrection。
　　
　　Sabat　tensed；　clenched　his　fists　in　an　inexplicable　feeling　of　jealousy；　hatred　for　this　lifeless　body　that　was　even　now　an　instrument　of　seduction。　He　wanted　to　tear　her　from　it；　take　his　own　revenge　upon　Louis　Nevillon　whilst　it　was　still　possible。　After　that　he　would　take　Madeleine　。。。
　　
　　But　by　the　time　Madeleine　Gaufridi　straightened　up　and　looked　at　him　Sabat　was　smiling；　only　his　eyes　betraying　what　had　gone　on　in　his　mind。
　　
　　'Carry　him　out　to　the　van；！。　Madeleine　snapped。　'Monsieur　Grien　will　help　you。　Take　care　that　you　do　not　drop　him；　for　even　in　death　my　dearest　one　has　feelings！'
　　
　　
　　　CHAPTER　SEVEN
　　　
　　SABAT'S　HANDS　burned　as　though　with　frostbite　as　he　clambered　back　into　the　passenger　seat　alongside　Madeleine；　a　coldness　that　was　spreading　to　the　rest　of　his　body…the　chill　of　death　from　handling　Louis　Nevillon。
　　
　　The　VW　whined　then　fired　and　the　headlights　threw　the　darkness　back。　Sabat　glanced　out　of　the　side　window；　the　mortuary　door　was　closed　now　and　no　light　shone　from　within。　Perhaps　Monsieur　Grien　preferred　to　work　in　the　dark。
　　
　　Back　down　that　mountain　road；　Madeleine　using　her　brakes；　their　squeal　jarring　Sabat's　nerves　like　a　cry　of　anguish　from　beyond　the　grave。　He　had　to　stop　himself　from　turning　round　and　peering　over　into　the　back　of　the　van；　cringing　in　horror　at　the　grisly　thing　which　lay　there　wrapped　in　an　old　blanket。　A　sharp　bend；　something　rolled。　A　dull　thud。　Sabat　was　reminded　of　that　unholy　kiss　in　the　morgue；　found　himself　staring　intently　at　the　girl　by　his　side。　Her　moods　came　and　went；　a　young　girl　who　grew　to　maturity　and　worse；　and　then　became　almost　childlike　again　in　her　innocence。　She　was　relaxed　now；　a　half…smile　on　her　pert　features。
　　
　　'I　don't　suppose　I'm　to　be　told　where　we're　headed？'　Sabat　murmured；　'even　though　I　do　happen　to　be　your　bodyguard/
　　
　　'It　wouldn't　mean　anything　to　you　if　I　told　you；'　she　replied。　'Just　an　old　chapel　that　nobody　uses　these　days　except　ourselves。　We'll　have　to　lie　up　there　during　the　daytime。　Andre　and　the　others　will　be　joining　us　after　dark。'
　　
　　He　thought　he　detected　a　faint　greyness　in　the　eastern　sky。　The　speedometer　needle　hovered　between　sixty　and　seventy；　a　vibration　that　made　conversation　impossible。　Madeleine　Gaufridi　was　driving　flat　out；　desperate　to　reach　this　unknown　chapel　before　dawn　broke　fully。
　　
　　Skirting　Lucerne；　the　lake　a　shimmering　sheet　of　cold　blackness　on　their　right；　starting　to　climb　again。　Daylight　was　ing　fast；　the　pine　forests　no　longer　patches　of　dark　shadow　beyond　the　range　of　the　headlights。
　　
　　A　screeching　of　brakes　and　Sabat　was　thrown　forward。　Madeleine　cursed　fluently　in　French；　grated　the　reverse　gear　and　shot　backwards；　slammed　it　back　into　bottom。
　　
　　'Almost　missed　it。'　She　nodded　towards　a　gap　in　the　trees　where　a　muddy　track　led　away　from　the　road。　'I　must　be　very　tired；　I　have　been　here　often　enough　before。'
　　
　　The　VW　bumped　over　uneven　ground；　the　wheels　spinning　in　a　patch　of　thick　mud　but　ing　free　again。　The　track　was　so　narrow　now　that　the　overhanging　branches　scraped　the　sides　of　the　van。　Climbing；　levelling　out；　going　down　a　steep　slope　until　they　emerged　into　a　wide　clearing　in　the　centre　of　which　was　a　building　that　had　undoubtedly　been　a　chapel　at　some　time。　Sabat　stared　with　tired　eyes；　made　out　a　square　stone　structure　roughly　the　size　of　the　chalet　in　which　they　had　stayed　at　Interlaken；　similar　to　that　mountain　morgue；　only　much　smaller。
　　
　　'It's　very　small；'　he　mented。
　　
　　'Most　of　these　remote　chapels　are；'　she　answered；　leaning　her　head　on　the　steering　wheel。　'Just　a　few　peasants　on　Sundays。　It　was　ample　then　and　it　is　now。　God；　I'm　shattered。　You　will　have　to　get　Louis　out　of　the　back　on　your　own！'
　　
　　Sabat　opened　the　door；　got　out　slowly。　That　thing；　he　had　to　handle　it；　hold　it　close　to　his　own　body；　feel　its　deathly　cold　chilling　his　blood。　The　smell　of　death　that　would　cling　to　him　like　the　tang　of　human　meat。　He　took　adeep　breath；　closed　his　eyes。　He　didn't　have　any　choice。
　　
　　Madeleine　was　already　opening　the　chapel　door；　waiting　for　him。　He　stretched　his　hands　into　the　back　of　the　van；　wished　that　there　was　a　wheelbarrow　or　some　other　conveyance　handy。　Even　if　there　had　been　she　would　not　have　allowed　him　to　use　it　'Carry　my　loved　one　carefully　for　he　is　not　really　dead；　only　sleeping；　ready　to　awaken　on　Walpurgisnacht？
　　
　　The　body　had　partially　slipped　out　of　the　blanket；　the　head　now　separate　and　turned　away　from　him。　He　could　not　carry　them　both。　He　would　have　to　make　two　journeys。
　　
　　He　wrapped　the　blanket　tightly　around　the　corpse；　dragged　it　towards　him　and　then　lifted　it；　staggered　back　and　almost　fell　under　the　weight。　Two　hundred　pounds；　maybe　more；
　　
　　The　ground　was　slippery　and　he　had　to　pick　each　step　deliberately。　Fortunately　it　was　light　enough　now　for　him　to　see　where　he　was　going。　So　heavy；　he　wondered　if　he　could　make　it　inside；　suddenly　afraid　of　the　wrath　of　his　panion　if　he　did　not。
　　
　　He　stumbled　on　the　step；　almost　fell；　but　somehow　his　weakened　muscles　did　not　fail　him。　A　blurred　first　glimpse　of　the　interior　of　this　place；　similar　to　that　morgue　in　some　respects　except　that　the　altar　had　not　been　removed。　Instead　it　had　been　draped　with　black　cloths　and　two　funereal　candles　in　holders　of　the　same　colour　stood　at　either　end。
　　
　　He　came　to　a　halt；　wheezed　as　he　asked；　'Where。。。　where　do　I。。。　？'
　　
　　'In　there。'　Madeleine　was　at　his　side；　pointing　towards　an　open　lead　coffin　which　lay　before　the　altar　in　the　shadows。　'Careful。　Mind　how　you　lay　him　down；'
　　
　　Sabat　grunted　his　relief　aloud　as　he　was　suddenly　relieved　of　the　weight；　dropped　to　his　knees　panting　for　breath。　The　darkness　of　the　coffin's　interior　had　swallowed　up　Nevillon。　He　didn't　have　to　look。
　　
　　'Now　fetch　。。。　the　rest。　Quickly！'
　　
　　He　found　himself　hastening　to　obey；　almost　running；　feeling　her　eyes　boring　into　him　as　he　went　back　to　the　van。
　　
　　Now　he　was　having　to　force　himself　to　do　everything。　Not　just　because　he　was　physically　weakened　but　because　the　bile　was　burning　in　his　throat　and　nausea　was　threatening　to　make　him　vomit。　The　body　had　been　nothing　pared　with　。。。　with　that　awful　thing　which　he　must　now　carry　like　a　child　clutching　a　football　to　itself。　Maybe　if　he　closed　his　eyes。　No；　he'd　fall。　Don't　look　at　it。　You　have　to　because　those　sightless　staring　eyes　won't　let　you　look　anywhere　else。
　　
　　Sabat's　fingers　were　stiff　and　inflexible；　seemed　unable　to　secure　a　firm　grip　as　he　lifted　the　head　out　of　the　back　of　the　van。　It　slipped；　spun；　and　for　one　terrible　second　he　thought　that　he　had　dropped　it。　Looking　down；　almost　crying　out　aloud　at　what　he　saw。　The　features　were　upturned　towards　him；　those　dull　orbs　staring　into　his；　the　lips　open　and　mocking　him。　He　heard　the　laughter　in　his　ears；　a　sound　so　familiar　that　he　recognised　it　instantly。　Quentin's。　His　own。　Louis　Nevillon's。　There　was　no　difference。
　　
　　Mud　squelched　over　his　shoes　and　impeded　his　progress　like　some　quagmire　trying　to　prevent　the　rejoining　of　that　body　with　its　head。　An　icy　wind　seemed　to　buffet　him。　Madeleine　was　screaming　something；　cursing　him；　yelling　at　him　to　hurry。
　　
　　Steps　that　were　like　a　slow…motion　replay　of　something　he　had　done　before。　Like　the　first　night　of　his　illness　when　he　had　been　a　spectator　to　his　own　actions。
　　
　　Into　the　chapel；　Madeleine　behind　him；　still　shouting…but　her　words　were　drowned　by　the　roaring　in　his　ears　and　that　same　taunting　laughter。　Beside　the　coffin；　forced　to　kneel　because　otherwise　he　would　have　had　to　drop　the　guillotined　skull。　On　his　knees；　total　subservience　to　the　dark　powers。
　　
　　'Join　the　head　and　body　together！'　Madeleine's　voice　finally　made　it　through　the　maelstrom　which　raged　inside　him。　'Lay　my　beloved　down　with　the　reverence　he　deserves！'
　　
　　Slumped　over　the　side　of　the　lead　coffin；　Sabat　fumbl