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rve in his body was screaming at him！
In that terrible moment he saw and understood； saw the big clergyman standing before him； the receding hairline that traced a thinning path to a balding crown； the jellified jowls that wobbled their way to a leering grin and the hooked nose which resembled the outsize cruel beak of a bird of prey； oversized on those aquiline features。 There could be no possible doubt concerning the true identity of the man who faced him！
'Allow me to introduce myself；' the newer laughed； a throaty chuckle； 'the Reverend Spode 。 。 。 Royston Spode！'
His words hit Sabat like a burst of 。45 slugs。 He found himself pressing back in his chair； his stomach knotting as though he suffered from a bout of colic。 You fucking idiot； you walked right into the lion's den； didn't even look the place over first。 Now you've found Royston and he's got you right where he wants you。 It was the coffee； of course； some paralysing drug 。 。 。
'I believe you've been wanting to meet me for some time； Sabat！ the other was euphoric； pacing slowly to and fro； hands clasped behind his back； a vicar…like pose which he had perfected until it became a habit。 'I was expecting you； of course。 I knew that you would find your way here。 Consequently preparations have been made for your arrival。'
〃The Archbishop knows I'm here。' Sabat found that speaking was not quite such a problem as moving。 'It won't be long before somebody es looking for me。'
〃Then let them e。' Spode laughed again； spread his large hands wide。 'Of course Mr Sabat came here； arrived about eight on Wednesday morning。 He wanted a list of old crypts which might possibly be used for the purpose of Satanic worship。 I gave him some； and he remarked that he was going to mence his search up in the north of England。 Yorkshire； if my memory serves me right。 He drove off and I haven't seen him since。 The disposal of your car； not to mention your corpse； presents no problem； I can assure you。'
'What've you done with the girl？' Sabat's tone was harsh； emery paper being rubbed on rough wood。
'You refer to Miranda； of course。 A lovely body even if she was a mon whore。'
'Was？'
'e now； Sabat； you didn't expect to find her alive； did you？ Of course you didn't。 However； she wasn't just punished for the treachery she planned against me； I had her lined up for a spectacular role some weeks ago。'
'What role？'
'Have you ever been to Haiti； Sabat？' Spode answered with a question； eyes narrowing； voice sharper。
Sabat tried to nod but couldn't； so he just grunted in the affirmative。
'In which case you are well acquainted with bocors and houngans and various voodoo rites。 Voodoo is the most powerful of all magic； its secrets known only to a handful of people living today。 Few of the bocors in Haiti today really understand it； their knowledge merely having scratched its surface。 Pardon a well…used cliche but a little knowledge is dangerous。 I have probed deeper； perhaps one day I shall pay the full price for the bargains I have made。 You too； Sabat； for nobody summons the Lord of the Cemetery lightly。 However； our mutual concern is to live for the present … you； especially； for this ing night will be your last 。 。 。 certainly in human form！' Royston Spode laughed deeply； smacked the Fist of one hand loudly into the palm of the other。
'For Christ's sake tell me what you've done with Miranda！'
'Be patient/ Spode's eyes narrowed cruelly； 'I am ing to that。 As you have discovered in your meddling； I have in my possession the skeleton of William Gardiner； one of the most powerful black magicians of all time； more powerful than the great Crowley although Gardiner preferred to remain in virtual anonymity。 He offended the Church so they tried to take their revenge by bringing an age…old charge of heresy against him。 Even the courts ridiculed them。 But Gardiner had the last laugh 。 。 。 oh； indeed he laughed loud and long。 He took his powers to the grave with him； turned that consecrated graveyard of St Adrian's into desecrated soil so that his followers might worship there for centuries to e！ Until you； Sabat； interfered and called upon Baron Cimeterre to reign supreme there。 But I already thwarted you； removed those sacred bones to a place of safety； a Satanic temple where I beseeched the powers /serve to resurrect William Gardiner； to transfer his powers； his very soul； to my own being。 And this they will do。 They asked for blood； a human sacrifice； and I gave them Miranda but it was not enough。 They asked for the blood of one whose evil was second only to Gardiner's 。 。 。 that of your brother Quentin which courses through your own veins。 And tonight I shall give them just that。 A bonus； in fact； for I shall also free the soul of Quentin Sabat from its incarceration！'
Sabat's brain reeled。 A madman he could have bated but Royston Spode was not mad … he was diabolically clever； one who had pierced the dark secrets of voodoo and had harnessed them for his own ends。 And now he was within hours of obtaining the ultimate in satanic power。 Miranda's flesh and blood had only partially served his purpose； Sabat's would be the final piece in the jigsaw which Spode had been piling over the years； a quest that had begun in Haiti and was to end in England。
'So you see； Sabat；' there was triumph in the big clergyman's voice； 'you have obliged me by ing here under your own volition。 I shall now take you to the temple； the very crypt you once visited in your astral body； and there you will be left； quite helpless； to meditate on your fate。 Incidentally； you may be interested to learn that my small but devoted congregation at the church where I have been vicar for the past five years； ever since I returned to this country from Haiti in fact； are also devout members of my coven。 Our church services are always conducted behind locked doors for my initiated like to 。。。 shall we say 'savour their unique position' in an otherwise mundane life。 Evensong today will be an occasion for rejoicing in the knowledge that that which we have strived for has now e to pass； There will be munion； too。 Desecrated wine to be drunk 。 。 。 well； not exactly wine 。 。 。 a claret liquid of a somewhat thicker texturel But e； 1 must assist you to your last resting place 。 。 。 '
Sabat was powerless to resist as Royston Spode's strong hand gripped his own； hauling him to his feet。 Sabat stumbled； propelled along with ease by his captor； his eyelids threatening to close again as he was taken along the narrow winding path amid the fragrant rhododendron bushes； then down into the dank； stuffy catabs where in centuries past the wealthy landowners had buried their dead。
Sabat could not fight off the urge to sleep any longer once his body was laid flat on that stone slab。 One last mocking laugh and then Spode was gone； striding back up into the sunlit world above where he played the role of a holy man； a Jonathan Wild； the spider at the centre of the web of evil； ensnaring his followers； dominating their souls and pelling them to take part in a blas