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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