gns.thegraveyardvultures-第14部分

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　of　the　Undead；　the　chief　of　the　Petro　gods　in　a　far　off　dark　land。　The　godgame　was　the　ultimate　clash　of　power　and　there　could　only　be　one　victor。
　　
　　Sabat　stared　into　her　seemingly　sightless　orbs　and　read　a　defiant　hatred；　a　toothless　cavity　of　a　mouth　miming　obscenities。　Sagging　revolting　breasts　scaled　with　the　grime　of　a　past　age　giving　off　a　vile　odour　which　in　different　circumstances　would　have　had　him　retching。　But　not　now；　it　was　the　heady　smell　of　battle。
　　
　　'You　have　defiled　the　temple　of　Baron　Cimeterre；'　he　hissed；　weapon　drawn　back。　'A　sacrilege；　performing　your　blasphemous　rites　in　this　place　when　they　should　have　been　his。　Each　and　every　one　of　you　must　be　struck　down　in　his　name！'
　　
　　The　wind　shrieked　as　though　the　Petro　god　himself　roared　his　approval　of　Sabat's　words。　Then　Sabat　struck；　a　wide　sweeping　blow；　felt　his　arm　jarred　for　one　brief　second　as　the　blade　met　with　some　obstruction　then　passed　on　and　pleted　its　arc。
　　
　　Those　few　survivors　who　had　huddled　behind　this　witch　for　protection；　confident　in　her　powers；　moaned　their　terror；　stared　aghast　at　what　had　happened。　The　crone　reared　upright；　at　full　stretch；　the　severed　skull　screaming　its　agony　even　though　it　was　parted　from　her　almost　skeletal　naked　body；　a　head　that　seemed　to　hang　in　the　air　as　though　some　invisible　thread　suspended　it　there；　dilated　eyes　watching　the　trunk　as　it　sank　to　the　ground。　Then　the　cranium　fell　with　a　sickening　thud；　rolled　towards　the　neck　as　if　seeking　to　rejoin　the　body　from　which　it　had　been　parted。
　　
　　Sabat　laughed；　kicking　it　to　one　side　as　he　stepped　across　it。　More　of　these　。　。　。　things　remained　and　now　he　had　no　fear　of　them；　they　could　neither　flee　nor　fight；　condemned　souls　awaiting　execution。　And　he　was　going　to　enjoy　every　second　of　it！
　　
　　This　time　the　blow　was　low；　knee…high；　scything　through　a　forest　of　legs；　bone　splintering；　limbs　cracking　and　spinning　away。　A　writhing　revolting　mass　of　legless　wounded；　groaning　their　helplessness；　at　Sabat's　mercy。
　　
　　For　a　few　seconds　he　savoured　the　situation；　gloated。　This　is　what　they　would　have　done　to　him　but　by　calling　upon　Baron　Cimeterre　the　tables　were　reversed。　And　if　you　traded　your　soul　with　the　devil　then　you　made　the　most　of　your　side　of　the　bargain！
　　
　　'You　fucking　vermin！'　Sabat's　expression　was　an　animal　snarl；　a　growing　fury　taking　hold　of　him。　'You're　not　going　to　be　put　out　of　your　misery　quickly。　In　the　name　of　Baron　Cimeterre　you're　going　to　suffer！'
　　
　　Suddenly　that　escalating　rage　erupted　inside　him；　turned　him　into　a　tornado　of　hate；　the　crucifix　windmilling；　hacking　crudely；　tearing　and　mutilating　the　bloodless　vile　flesh。　Bodies　writhed；　tried　to　crawl　away　on　amputated　limbs；　collapsed；　wailing　and　sobbing。　Sabat　never　once　relented；　another　head　rolling　away；　pulled　up　by　the　sinew　which　still　attached　it　to　the　stump　of　a　neck；　gyrating；　mouth　moving　in　a　soundless　scream。　A　veritable　abattoir　of　putrefied　pulped　meat　and　still　the　attack　went　on。
　　
　　Finally　Sabat　let　his　weapon…arm　fall；　seemed　to　check　his　rage　instantly　as　he　raised　his　eyes　and　saw。　A　movement　had　attracted　his　attention；　a　patch　of　shadow　that　was　too　dark　to　be　shadow。　Oh　God；　he　thought　he'd　got　them　all　but　there　was　still　one　left。
　　
　　'e　here。'　His　voice　was　a　whiplash　cutting　through　the　darkness。　'You　cannot　escape　Sabat　by　hiding。'
　　
　　She　came；　so　lithe　and　shapely　that　he　found　himself　overlooking　the　grimy　flesh　and　ragged　garments；　seeing　only　the　beauty　of　an　unblemished　skin　which　had　once　lain　beneath；　the　ringlets　of　auburn　hair；　nipples　that　could　only　be　so　swollen　and　hard　because　she　was　aroused；　and　even　now　she　was　arousing　him。　Miranda！
　　
　　He　didn't　try　to　reason　because　primitive　lust　was　blinding　him　to　all　else。　Except　his　hatred　of　her　for　what　she　was；　a　dangerous　bination。
　　
　　'You　have　to　answer　to　both　Baron　Cimeterre　and　myself；'　his　lips　scarcely　moved；　his　words　barely　audible；　'because　you　defiled　this　place；　sacrificed　to　another　god。　You　took　a　virgin　from　her　grave；　one　who　rightfully　belonged　to　the　Lord　of　the　Cemetery；　mated　her；　and　another　who　still　lived；　to　your　own　false　lord　of　darkness。　Then　you　mitted　the　body　of　the　one　who　died　as　a　result　of　that　to　water；　not　to　the　earth　where　she　would　have　bee　Baron　Cimeterre's。　The　others　have　paid　the　price　but　yours　will　be　even　greater　because　my　Lord　Cimeterre　demands　that　I　take　you　as　you　took　her；　for　I　am　his　disciple　on　the　Left　Hand　Path　which　leads　to　eternal　life　for　those　who　serve　faithfully！'
　　
　　'No　I'　She　screamed　but　did　not　try　to　flee　because　she　knew　it　would　be　futile。　Those　dull　orbs　flickered　with　the　ultimate　in　terror　and　then　he　was　upon　her。
　　
　　Sabat　experienced　a　fleeting　sensation　as　though　he　was　on　the　astral　witnessing　the　actions　of　his　physical　body；　but　that　was　impossible。　A　kind　of　numbness　flooded　over　him　but　it　did　not　mar　the　urge　which　fired　his　veins；　pumped　the　hot　blood　through　his　body。　Neither　was　he　aware　of　the　coldness　of　her　body　as　he　flung　her　to　the　ground　beneath　him。　He　tossed　away　his　sword；　he　did　not　need　it　for　this！
　　
　　She　struggled　but　his　strength　was　too　much　for　her；　pinioning　her　arms；　ripping　the　final　shreds　of　stinking　clothing　from　her　shuddering　body。　Her　flesh　was　cold　but　he　scarcely　noticed　it；　grunting　aloud　like　a　stag　on　the　rutting　stand。　No　longer　was　he　thinking　of　Sylvia　Adams　and　Sheila　Dowson；　nor　the　terror　which　the　latter　must　have　experienced；　only　of　himself；　his　conquest；　and　the　fact　that　he　was　doing　it　for　Baron　Cimeterre；　himself　a　servant　of　thePetrogod。
　　
　　Finally　he　was　finished　with　her；　drawing　back　and　fastening　his　clothing。　His　lust　was　spent　and　now　his　fury　was　returning。　He　groped　for　the　fallen　crucifix；　reversed　it　and　struck　at　the　inert　figure　at　his　feet　with　terrible　force；　a　blow　which　no　human　skull　could　have　withstood。　The　head　split　almost　equally　into　two　halves；　the　tortured　expression　divided。　Something　oozed　out　which　reminded　him　of　frog…spawn　but　there　was　no　blood。　He　had　not　expected　any。
　　
　　Again　and　again；　chopping　and　hacking　with　a　desperation　as　though　he　wished　to　destroy　this　ghastly　being　totally；　erase　from　his　mind　what　had　happened。　A　psychopath；　his　brain　blurred；　telling　himself　that　it　had　never　taken　place；　that　he　would　never　have　done　anything　like　that。　And　finally；　when　there　was　nothing　left　that　resembled　a　human　being　at　his　feet；　he　almost　believed　it。　Almost。
　　
　　Dawn　came　with　its　usual　grey　soberness。　Sabat　stirred；　shivered　and　raised　himself　off　the　tomb　where　he　had　been　sitting。　He　thought　he　might　have　fallen　asleep　but　he　knew　he　could　not　have　done　so　for　throughout　the　latter　part　of　the　night　he　had　been　conscious　of　just　staring　into　the　darkness；　seeing　nothing；　not　even　thinking。
　　
　　He　glanced　around；　half　expecting　to　see　carnage　and　mutilation；　widespread　amputation　and　decapitation。　But　there　was　nothing；　the　undergrowth　not　even　flattened。　A　psychic　battle　had　been　fought　and　。。。　won　or　lost？
　　
　　His　mouth　was　dry　and　he　had　a　nagging　headache；　he　always　had　a　headache　after　an　exorcism。　Quentin's　laughter　came　from　somewhere　then　died　away　and　left　him　to　his　own　musings。　This　past　night　had　been　fought　on　two　fronts；　inside　the　church　his　exorcism　had　been　powerful　enough　but　not　out　here。　Back　to　the　wall；　he　had　called　upon　the　forces　of　darkness　to　destroy　their　own　kind　and　they　had　conceded　to　his　request。　Because　he　was　one　of　them
　　
　　He　laughed；　a　dry　mirthless　sound。　In　a　strange　way　his　evil　brother　had　done　him　a　favour；　turned　him　into　the　most　ruthless　psychic　mercenary　who　had　ever　stalked　the　frontiers　of　darkness。　So　powerful；　capable　of　summoning　those　who　could　serve　his　cause　best。　But　it　was　frightening；　a　kind　of　schizophrenia；　a　man　outside　himself　at　times；　barely　knowing　what　had　transpired。
　　
　　But　this　business　was　far　from　over。　St　Adrian's　and　its　grounds　were　exorcised；　if　one　could　call　it　that。　A　mere　skirmish　in　terms　of　the　fight　that　lay　ahead。　Somewhere　the　man　named　Royston　had　his　new　black　temple　and　was　already　drawing　upon　the　power　that　festered　like　a　cancer　within　the　bones　of　William　Gardiner　。。。　so　powerful　that　they　had　sent　that　terrible　force　of　unspeakable　terrors　last　night　in　a　desperate　attempt　to　destroy　the　one　man　who　stood　in　their　way。　They　had　failed　but　they　wouldn't　give　up；　they　couldn't　afford　to。
　　
　　Slowly；　each　step　a　determined　effort　that　fought　against　sheer　fatigue；　Sabat　began　to　make　his　way　back　to　the　vicarage。　The　day　would　be　spent　sleeping；　safe　now　that　daylight　had　e；　recharging　mind　and　body　for　whatever　perils　the　ing　night　might　hold。
　　
　　He　almost　ignored　the　approaching　car　and　probably　would　have　done　had　it　not　slowed　when　it　drew　level　with　him。　Even　at　their　lowest　ebb　his　extra…perceptive　senses　were　not　totally　dulled；　seeing　everything　in　those　split　seconds　before　the　silver　Mercedes　picked　up　speed　and　was　lost　to　sight　around　the　bend。
　　
　　The　driver；　a　big　man　with　receding　hair　and　the　stamp　of　merciless　cruelty　on　his　features；　e