gns.cannibalcult-第25部分

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t　we　shall　have！'
　　
　　Schmid　screamed　but　a　hand　was　clapped　over　his　bleeding　mouth。　Grubby　female　fingers；　which　might　have　been　sensuous　otherwise；　slid　through　the　throng　of　bodies　that　supported　him；　closed　over　soft　and　tender　flesh　and　squeezed　viciously。　Andre　Schmid　writhed　in　pain　and　the　hand　was　withdrawn。　Jeanette　felt　that　that　made　up　for　what　he　had　done　to　her　earlier。　She　wished　she　had　a　knife　handy。
　　
　　The　oven　door　was　thrown　open　to　reveal　a　much　larger　cubicle　than　the　one　at　the　chapel；　which　was　fortunate　because　Andre；　in　spite　of　his　shortness；　had　a　huge　girth。　He　was　resisting　madly　now；　biting　at　the　fingers　which　attempted　to　silence　his　screams；　shrieking　as　his　flesh　came　into　contact　with　the　hot　iron。
　　
　　Somehow；　using　brute　force；　booted　feet　as　levers；　they　got　him　into　the　oven；　slammed　the　door　and　muffled　his　shrieks。　Coal　and　slack　clinked　and　showered　into　the　firebox；　roared　into　flame　as　the　draught　was　admitted。　The　temperature　gauge　on　the　door　read　200。　Already　the　needle　was　beginning　to　move　upwards。
　　
　　They　stood　back；　a　grim　silent　assembly；　listening　to　the　thudding　of　scorching　bare　fists　and　feet　vibrating　the　oven　door；　cursings　that　were　being　more　incoherent　by　the　second。
　　
　　'How　long？'　Michel　was　the　first　to　speak；　turning　to　Jeanette。　'How　long　will　he　take　to　die　and　to　cook？'
　　
　　'He'll　be　dead　in　a　few　minutes；'　she　smiled　and　added；　'unfortunately。　But　it　will　be　several　hours　before　he　is　edible。'
　　
　　Michel's　eyes　gleamed　as　he　began　to　unfasten　the　buttons　on　his　shirt；　sliding　his　denims　down　so　that　his　arousement　sprang　into　view；　an　actor　with　an　audience；　urging　their　participation。
　　
　　Suddenly　their　early　lethargy　was　forgotten。　Andre　Schmid's　thumpings　were　growing　weaker　and　fainter　and　now　the　coven　was　theirs。　They　could　enjoy　themselves　whilst　their　Walpurgisnacht　banquet　roasted　to　perfection。
　　
　　Jeanette　peeled　off　those　damp　jeans；　flung　them　into　a　corner　of　the　room。　Others　followed　them；　faces　alight　with　a　lust　that　was　no　longer　controlled　by　the　man　who　at　this　very　moment　was　beginning　to　give　off　an　odour　of　singeing；　appetising　meat。
　　
　　The　night　was　theirs　to　enjoy　in　the　way　they　knew　best。
　　
　　Sabat　slipped　his　revolver　back　into　its　holster　and　smiled　smugly　to　himself　in　the　darkness。　It　took　a　determined　conscious　effort　to　drag　his　thoughts　away　from　what　was　happening　inside　the　mune　kitchen。　He　was　fully　aroused；　envied　those　people　their　unrestricted　pleasures。　But　there　was　work　to　be　done　this　night　and　time　was　running　out。
　　
　　He　walked　quickly　down　the　road　and　turned　into　an　adjoining　street　at　the　bottom。　Parked　cars　lined　each　kerb；　he　had　a　choice　of　vehicles。
　　
　　He　picked　a　majestic　silent　Daimler　because　it　was　only　fitting　that　Sabat　should　drive　to　his　ultimate　triumph　in　the　car　he　loved　best。　Also；　he　was　familiar　with　that　make　of　vehicle　and　had　no　trouble　in　opening　the　door　and　starting　the　powerful　engine　without　the　use　of　keys。
　　
　　He　slid　behind　the　wheel；　listened　to　the　smooth；　scarcely　audible　tick…over　and　was　surprised　how　relaxed　he　felt。　And　somewhere　he　heard　those　final　words　of　Pierre　de　Lancre　again。　〃If　you　ever　have　need　of　me　do　not　hesitate　to　call　me。　Do　that　and　Pierre　de　Lancre　will　e；　that　I　promise。〃
　　
　　
　　　CHAPTER　FIFTEEN
　　　
　　MADELEINE　GAUFRIDI　was　glad　when　Sabat　had　gone。　For　some　reason　she　experienced　a　sense　of　guilt　in　his　presence；　an　inexplicable　sense　of　infidelity　towards　the　man　who　lay　in　the　lead　coffin　beneath　the　altar。　Louis　would　not　have　objected　to　her　copulating　with　Sabat；　she　felt　sure　of　that。　Had　he　not　openly　confessed　to　obtaining　erotic　delight　from　the　thought　of　her　giving　herself　to　other　men？　Had　he　not　on　one　occasion　lured　a　handsome　adolescent　to　their　garret　in　Paris　for　that　sole　purpose？　The　memory　of　that　night；　shortly　before　he　had　sent　her　to　the　convent　at　Aix…en…Provence　to　spread　his　word；　had　her　flesh　tingling。
　　
　　Louis　had　been　hiding　in　the　curtained　alcove　watching　throughout。　The　boy　was　eager　but　nervous；　and　when　they　were　both　naked　it　had　needed　a　considerable　effort　on　Madeleine's　part　to　arouse　him。　Then　he　had　had　a　premature　ejaculation　whilst　she　was　playing　with　him　and　she　had　had　to　start　all　over　again。　Inexperienced　youth　did　not　excite　Madeleine；　but　she　knew　it　aroused　her　beloved　and　the　thought　of　what　he　would　undoubtedly　be　doing　to　himself　in　his　role　as　voyeur　had　resulted　in　an　unprecedented　performance　on　her　own　part。　And　only　when　her　young　partner's　limpness　was　finally　beyond　recall　had　she　let　him　get　dressed　and　leave。
　　
　　Louis　liked　to　be　made　jealous；　but　that　same　jealousy　could　also　be　very　dangerous。　Some　days　later　she　had　read　in　a　newspaper　that　the　youth　had　been　found　along　the　left　bank　of　the　Seine　with　his　throat　cut。　She　had　not　mentioned　it　to　Louis　and　he　had　never　referred　to　the　incident；　but　there　was　no　possible　doubt　in　her　mind。　Sabat　might　suffer　a　similar　fate　in　due　course　when　her　lover　came　back　from　the　dead。　She　had　mixed　feelings　about　the　whole　business。
　　
　　She　rested　for　most　of　the　day；　lying　naked　on　those　same　blankets　which　were　still　damp　with　Sabat's　seed；　occasionally　raising　her　head　and　glancing　towards　the　coffin。　Louis　would　not　e　yet；　though；　not　for　several　hours。　But　he　would　rise；　there　was　no　doubt　about　that。　It　was　a　pity　that　Sabat　had　to　return　but　that　could　not　be　helped。　She　dared　not　face　this　Walpurgisnacht；　the　most　important　of　all　her　lives；　alone。　And　if　Louis　Nevillon's　wrath　had　been　incurred　by　her　unfaithfulness　then　Sabat　would　be　here　to　answer　for　herself。
　　
　　Towards　evening　she　arose　and　began　her　preparations。　Those　black　cloths　had　to　be　draped　back　on　the　altar；　new　candles　fitted　into　their　holders　in　readiness。　Her　long　black　dress；　the　one　she　always　wore　for　sabbaths；　was　draped　over　one　of　the　chairs。　She　would　put　the　garment　on　shortly　but　in　the　meantime　she　was　enjoying　her　nudity。　As　though　Louis　could　see　her。
　　
　　The　thought　brought　exciting　sensations　back　to　her　body；　ones　that　had　never　really　left　her　since　the　previous　night。　Subconsciously　her　fingers　smoothed　sensuously　down　her　thighs；　trespassed　in　between。　Her　breathing　quickened。
　　
　　A　faint　rustling。　Perhaps　it　was　a　draught　wafting　one　of　the　tapestries。　Yet。。。　she　stiffened；　the　noise　seemed　to　e　from　within　that　coffin。　Her　eyes　flickered；　mingled　hope　and　fear；　her　breathing　heavier　so　that　her　breasts　rose　and　fell；　noticing　things　which　previously　she　had　taken　for　granted。　The　stale　smell　of　cooked　meat　and　a　sickly　cloying　stench　that　reminded　her　of　iron。　The　aroma　of　death　but　blending　with　putrefaction。　No；　the　coffin　was　airtight　and　anyway；　Louis　Nevillon's　flesh　was　perfectly　preserved。
　　
　　She　trembled；　found　some　matches　and　lit　the　candles。　The　wicks　were　stubborn；　took　time　to　ignite；　the　flames　caught　in　those　penetrating　draughts　and　casting　inexplicable　shadows　on　the　walls；　things　that　had　no　definite　shape　and　yet　were　all　the　more　fearsome　for　that。
　　
　　Madeleine　was　uneasy。　But　her　dearest　one　would　not　harm　her　even　if　he　arose　now。　She　stared　at　the　coffin；　an　oblong　black　inanimate　object；　half　expected　to　see　the　lid　beginning　to　rise　up。　It　didn't
　　
　　She　wondered　how　long　Sabat　would　be　away。　Possibly　he　was　waiting　for　nightfall　before　dealing　with　Andre　and　the　hippies。　A　glance　at　the　windows　showed　her　that　it　was　nearly　dark　now。　Sabat　might　be　gone　for　several　hours　yet　She　did　not　need　him　though；　she　had　hours。　It　was　silly　of　her　to　be　nervous　in　the　first　place。
　　
　　Her　body　was　goose　pimpling。　The　atmosphere　seemed　to　have　bee　a　lot　colder。　Perhaps　she　ought　to　put　on　her　dress。
　　
　　Even　as　she　was　moving　towards　it　she　changed　her　mind。　No；　she　would　remain　naked　because　that　was　how　Louis　would　like　to　see　her　when　he　first　set　eyes　on　her　again。　She　would　make　him　want　her；　give　herself　to　him　right　away　if　that　was　his　wish。　Everything　would　be　as　it　always　had　been。
　　
　　A　sudden　whim；　one　that　frightened　her。　Suppose　she　just　lifted　the　coffin　lid；　had　a　quick　peep　in　at　her　beloved。　He　wouldn't　mind。　She　wondered　what　was　happening　to　him；　his　head　had　already　rejoined　itself　to　his　body　so　surely　some　form　of　life　was　beginning　hi　the　flesh　and　bones。　Like　a　tree　graft；　a　steady　progress。
　　
　　She　stepped　up　to　the　coffin；　grasped　the　edges　of　the　lid　with　her　fingers。　God；　it　was　cold；　as　though　it　was　constructed　of　sheets　of　black　ice。　She　was　shivering。　Perhaps　she　ought　not　to　look；　it　was　an　imposition　on　the　privacy　of　his　rebirth。
　　
　　Yet　her　curiosity　was　aroused；　bined　with　an　insatiable　desire　to　gaze　once　more　upon　those　fine　features；　maybe　to　press　her　own　lips　briefly　against　his。　Wake　soon；　my　darling；　for　I　need　you！　Fear　gripped　her　again；　had　her　wanting　to　back　away　and　wait　until　Sabat　arrived。　But　she　didn't；　even　now　her　muscles　were　bulging　as　though　they　had　a　will　of　their　own；　her　small　veins　showing　blue　against　the　whiteness　of　her　wrists　as　she　took　the　strain。　Perhaps　she　would