gns.thegraveyardvultures-第31部分

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clear；　splattering　crimson　droplets　as　it　was　returned　to　the　shelf　above。
　　
　　Royston　Spode　stepped　back　to　survey　his　handiwork；　a　smile　of　satisfaction　crinkling　the　corners　of　his　cruel　mouth。　Perfection；　the　best　he'd　ever　done　…　an　inverted　cross　carved　on　a　living　human　body！　Perhaps　he　ought　to　have　stripped　the　victim　first　so　that　his　followers　would　have　fully　appreciated　his　bloody　artistry。　He　heard　their　intakes　of　breath；　gasps　of　awe。
　　
　　'Let　us　return　to　the　church；'　he　snapped；　'for　it　will　soon　be　nightfall　and　then　we　have　much　to　do！'
　　
　　The　vicar　lingered　for　one　last　glimpse　of　his　latest　sacrifice。　The　blood　was　pouring　thick　and　fast　from　the　mutilated　body；　a　leg　twitching　in　a　final　reflex　protest；　the　eyes　still　closed。
　　
　　Then　Spode's　eyes　returned　to　Sabat。　Royston　Spode　felt　the　urge　to　laugh　out　loud；　to　mock　and　jeer；　for　Drew's　blood　had　soaked　the　limp　form　of　Sabat；　saturated　him　with　scarlet　dripping　fluid。　A　sacrifice　bloodied　in　readiness；　a　taste　to　whet　the　dark　gods'　appetite　so　that　they　might　grant　Spode's　request　and　transfer　the　ultimate　in　evil　power　from　those　ancient　bones　to　his　own　body。
　　
　　
　　　CHAPTER　TWELVE
　　　
　　SABATS　INITIAL　horror　turned　to　sheer　relief　as　his　astral　sight　picked　out　the　youth's　body　propped　up　between　his　own　and　Gardiner's　remains。　He　saw　Andy　Drew's　mutilated　flesh；　the　way　the　wound　had　been　fashioned　into　a　blasphemous　inverted　cross；　the　pumping　blood　having　slowed　to　a　trickle　and　then　begun　to　congeal。　Another　death；　another　sacrifice；　but　it　could　have　been　worse。　One　member　of　this　terrible　coven　more　or　less　was　of　no　consequence。　At　least　his　own　body　still　remained　unscathed　and　it　was　a　relief　to　slip　into　it　once　more；　almost　savouring　the　feel　of　warm　blood　which　was　not　his　own　after　all。
　　
　　Very　slowly　consciousness　returned　to　Sabat。　His　eyelids　flickered　half　open　and　through　them　he　took　in　the　scene　which　surrounded　him。　The　candles　had　been　left　burning　and　he　could　see　clearly　although　his　range　of　vision　was　restricted；　the　dead　youth　threatening　to　slide　down　on　to　him　at　the　slightest　vibration；　a　skeletal　leg　only　inches　from　his　own。　He　took　a　deep　breath；　smelled　the　overpowering　rancid　odour　of　Drew's　blood；　the　cold　cloying　stench　of　stale　air　and　。　。　。　evil！　For　even　now　the　dark　forces　were　ing　alive　down　here；　the　temperature　having　fallen　rapidly　so　that　Sabat's　flesh　goosepimpled　and　he　shivered。
　　
　　He　was　surprised　to　discover　how　mentally　refreshed　he　felt；　just　as　he　always　did　after　a　trip　on　to　the　astral　plane。　He　tried　to　flex　his　arm　and　leg　muscles　but　they　remained　limp　…　the　effects　of　that　paralysing　drug　had　not　worn　off　yet。　He　sighed；　his　earlier　despair　returning。　He　was　totally　helpless；　a　sacrificial　victim　whenever　Royston　Spode　chose　to　return。　The　Rada　gods　had　been　contacted；　a　bargain　made；　but　whether　or　not　they　chose　to　keep　it　was　debatable。　Like　himself　they　were　fickle　。。。　and　ruthless！
　　
　　He　considered　once　more　escaping　on　to　the　astral；　leaving　this　empty　shell　of　a　body　for　them　to　do　what　they　would　with　it；　taking　his　chance　on　that　eternal　battlefield　in　the　timeless　wilderness；　a　mercenary　who　would　join　either　Rada　or　Petro　forces。　But　it　was　impossible；　even　if　he　chose　to　do　so；　for　the　necessary　sleep…like　trance　which　would　project　him　into　immortality　would　not　easily　be　induced　now　that　his　mind　was　refreshed。　And　the　evil　which　existed　in　this　hellish　dungeon　would　not　allow　him　to　desert　his　body；　would　deny　him　sleep。
　　
　　Another　thought　struck　him；　he　still　had　his　gun；　the　loaded　。38　weighted　against　his　side。　With　it　he　could　have　blasted　Spode；　maybe　taken　a　few　of　the　others　as　well　until　their　numbers　bore　him　down。　Only　he　was　denied　the　use　of　his　limbs；　his　forefinger　incapable　of　taking　the　slightest　trigger　pressure。…Finally　he　accepted　that　there　was　only　one　course　open　to　him　…　he　must　wait　and　place　his　faith　in　Damballah；　chief　of　the　Rada　gods；　whose　day　was　Wednesday。　He　had　until　midnight！
　　
　　Time　was　standing　still　again；　even　the　wax　on　those　black　candles　seeming　to　burn　unconsumed。　It　was　much；　much　colder　too。　Sabat　tensed；　listening　for　a　sound　which　did　not　e；　the　tramp　of　approaching　feet　that　would　herald　his　death　and　worse。　Instead　he　heard　another　noise；　a　faint　creaking　like　the　rusty　hinge　on　a　gate　when　the　wind　freshened；　a　movement　such　as　rheumatic　limbs　might　make。　His　spine　tingled　as　the　noise　grated　on　his　nerves　。。。　so　close！
　　
　　A　movement　attracted　his　attention；　something　white　against　a　black　background；　reflecting　the　flickering　candlelight　。　。　。　Oh　God；　the　skeleton's　leg　was　bending　。　。　。　stretching。。。　flexing！
　　
　　Sabat　tried　to　close　his　eyes；　wanted　to　spare　himself　the　sight　of　a　blasphemous　rebirth；　was　even　more　conscious　of　his　own　helplessness。　Spode's　magic；　the　sacrifice　of　human　flesh　and　blood；　the　living　evil　in　this　crypt　had　resulted　in　the　ultimate　success；　a　living　entity　more　unbelievable；　more　horrific　than　the　fictional　Frankenstein's　monster。　But　Sabat　could　not　induce　his　eyelids　to　close；　just　as　hours　before　it　had　proved　impossible　to　open　them。　He　was　condemned　to　watch；　to　listen　to　noises　beyond　the　angle　of　his　limited　vision。
　　
　　Jesus　Christ；　whatever　it　was　it　breathed；　rattled　a　broken　ribcage　with　stentorian　intakes　of　air；　stood　and　moved　uncertainly　on　clicking　feet。　It　was　behind　him；　skulking　in　the　shadows；　wheezing　so　that　he　felt　its　cold　breath。　Now　ing　for　him；　a　hunter　from　beyond　mortal　ken　stalking　its　prey！
　　
　　Mentally　he　braced　himself；　knew　not　what　form　the　attack　would　take；　a　blasting　of　his　reason；　a　stopping　of　his　heartbeat　by　the　sight　of　this　terrible　miscreation　or　the　strangulating　grip　of　skeletal　fingers　around　his　throat？
　　
　　Something　came　at　him　out　of　the　darkness；　a　grotesque　bloody　form　that　struck　him　with　its　full　weight；　knocking　the　breath　from　his　body；　causing　him　to　scream　his　terror　in　his　mind。　Cold　flesh　against　his　face；　a　weighty　thing　that　sagged　and　slid　across　his　body；　its　grasp　slipping　away　because　those　fingers　were　lifeless。　And　for　the　second　time　within　the　space　of　an　hour　the　corpse　of　Andy　Drew　escalated　crazed　fear　in　Sabat！
　　
　　Sabat　wanted　to　laugh　his　relief　aloud　but　all　vocal　functions　were　denied　him。　The　corpse　had　finally　slipped　from　its　perch；　moving　the　skeleton　of　William　Gardiner　as　it　did　so。　As　one　terror　receded；　another　returned。　Somebody　was　shuffling　round　into　Sabat's　line　of　vision！
　　
　　He　stared；　tried　to　prehend；　but　there　was　no　explanation；　neither　the　dead　nor　the　black　forces　of　evil　gave　up　their　secrets。　Such　things　were　best　kept　beyond　the　reach　of　mortal　knowledge。　For　the　being　which　had　received　life　from　some　unearthly　source　was　not　in　skeletal　form　…　it　was　the　shape　of　a　man；　flesh　and　blood；　which　looked　down　upon　the　inert　form　of　Sabat　with　cold　unblinking　eyes；　and　it　was　all　the　more　terrible　for　its　human　form！
　　
　　A　tramp…like　appearance；　the　ragged　clothing　unable　to　hide　the　wasted　body　underneath；　and　at　first　glance　Sabat　thought　that　it　was　Gardiner's　skeleton　clothed　in　rotting　tail…coat　with　a　battered　top　hat　set　at　a　rakish　angle　on　the　skull。　But　it　wasn't。　Flesh　was　stretched　tightly　over　the　bones；　parchment　thin；　the　face　half　in　shadow；　vaguely　familiar。
　　
　　The　man　moved　forward　a　step　and　Sabat　saw　him　more　clearly。　Changing　features；　at　first　he　thought　it　might　have　indeed　been　William　Gardiner　clothed　in　a　new　skin　that　was　too　small　for　him；　a　countenance　of　evil　that　even　now　seemed　uncertain　of　its　own　identity。　Then　it　was　like　looking　into　a　dirty…grimed　mirror；　seeing　his　own　features　reflected　behind　the　grime；　again　the　ruthless　evil　。。。　but　not　quite　his　own。　Quentin's！　But　before　Sabat　could　make　up　his　mind；　the　nose　had　broadened；　the　dark　eyes　moved　closer　together；　the　thick　lips　parted　in　what　was　intended　to　be　a　smile；　a　settling　of　the　shifting　face　into　something　more　positive；　one　that　he　knew　because　he　had　seen　it　that　same　day　half…hidden　by　a　voluminous　cowl；　his　panion　then　standing　before　the　high　wooden　cross　on　which　were　draped　the　very　clothes　which　he　now　wore。
　　
　　'Maitre　Carrefour！'　Sabat　got　the　name　out；　found　that　he　could　speak；　that　he　could　move　his　head　in　order　to　obtain　a　better　view　of　the　one　who　stood　before　him。　'Lord　of　the　Crossroads！'
　　
　　'Indeed。'　The　voice　had　that　same　nasal　thickness；　an　accent　which　could　not　be　attributed　to　any　race　throughout　the　modern　world。　'It　is；　sent　by　Damballah；　chief　of　the　Rada　gods。'
　　
　　'Damballah　is　not　ing？'　A　note　of　disappointment　was　in　Sabat's　voice　as　he　managed　to　sit　up；　pushed　the　body　of　Andy　Drew　off　him　so　that　it　rolled　on　to　the　floor　with　a　sickening　thud。
　　
　　'No；　too　often　are　the　chief　gods　summoned　by　mortals。　But　my　presence　will　suffice。　First；　though；　I　must　remind　you　of　your　vow。'
　　
　　'I　have　not　forgotten。'　Sabat　stretched　his　limbs；　found　that　they　moved　easily；　just　a　slight　sensation　of　pins…and…needles　in　his　legs　where　they　had　been　trapped　by　the　bloody　corpse。　He　turned；　saw　that　the　bl