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lay they began to dig。
The spadework was easy； fresh soil made soft by the recent grave digging so that the pick was not needed。 The watchers moved in closer； eager as the mound of soft damp earth grew； spilling back in small showers until finally they heard stones thudding on the exposed coffin lid down below。 Necks craned forward； two well…built youths in soiled denims stepped out of the group。 Now the pick was needed； a cracking and splintering of seasoned wood。 Two。 standing in the open grave； others kneeling to assist in a cumbersome task； dragging the enshrouded corpse up from its last resting place。 The tall man stood back with folded arms。
The full moon was almost at its zenith； its soft light showing up every detail as trembling hands tore at the shroud revealing dead white flesh。
Gasps； some of horror from those who had not experienced necromancy before。 The corpse was naked now and there was no mistaking the beauty of the young girl。 She could not have been more than eighteen； the mortician's make…up accentuating the darkness of her long hair； lips that were full and red even in death； breasts sagging but perfectly proportioned； the dark 'V of lower hair tantalising the watchers so that some became aroused。
'A young； dead virgin is the most powerful instrument of all。' The cowled man's long； slender fingers were stroking the cold flesh almost lovingly； dwelling for a second or two on the wide surgeon's scar which disfigured the flat abdomen even in the moonlight。
〃Ow d'yer know 'er's a virgin？' There was open insolence in the tone of the one who still held the pickaxe。
'Hold your tongue！' The cowl had fallen back exposing a broad； cruel face； eyes too close together； the mouth a thin slit； nostrils dilated with fury。 'How dare you question my judgement。 Sylvia had a stomach cancer at the age of thirteen。 For five years she fought a battle against it； mostly in hospital。 She had no boyfriends。 Does that answer your question； Julian？'
The other nodded。
'But tonight；' the coven leader's voice became high…pitched； rose almost to a crescendo； 'that virginity will be lost！'
'Jesus！' a tall rangy youth backed away。 'You're not going to 。。。 '
'Do not argue with me。 Our Master has need of Sylvia and for this he will reward us richly。 Lift her on to that tomb over there。 Hurry； for we have work to do and the night is not without its dangers。'
Trembling hands lifted the dead girl and laid her face upwards on the flat； table…like tomb of a wealthy village family。 She sagged； a leg fell and swung in grim lewdness causing several of the younger coven members to jump back in alarm。
'Now； Sheila； get undressed。 Everybody get undressed for the Master abhors inhibitions。'
Clothes were shed； the tall man beginning a low incantation as he followed suit； revealing a middle…aged body that was already aroused。 A slim； fair…haired girl was trembling violently； biting her lower lip as though trying to stem a flood of tears； folded arms shielding breasts which had yet to reach maturity。 She'd never thought that they would go this far。 Horace （maybe it wasn't even his real name） was some kind of sadist。 Up until now it had all been a kind of sexy game and she hadn't minded the other guys having her。 Horace had said that tonight was to be her 'initiation' and she'd thought that was just an excuse for another orgy。 But digging up a dead girl who'd spent most of her life fighting against an incurable disease 。 。 。 ugh； it was horrible！ She'd have no part in this。
'I。。。 I want to go home；' her plea sounded pathetic and she knew she ought to have voiced her disapproval before she'd stripped off。 They had dug up a grave on the last full moon but that had been a decrepit skeleton； a bit creepy but the guy had been dead for half a century and it wasn't doing him any harm。 Anyway； they'd reburied him afterwards。
Horace paused； his intonation dying away。 When he spoke again his voice was angry； his thin lips scarcely seeming to move。 'It's too late now I'm afraid； my dear。 You've gone too far to back out。 Now； go and lie alongside the lovely Sylvia and remember 。 。 。 it's the Master you're giving yourself to。 Feel privileged； honoured； to share the sacrificial altar with a virgin '
Sheila Dowson felt her senses reeling； thought for a moment that she was going to faint。 Her instinct was to turn and run； maybe if she hadn't been naked she would have done just that。 But somehow the thought of running nude through the village back to her home was an equally frightening thought。
'You can't make me do anything I don't want to do！' She had meant to sound firm and defiant but her voice trembled and suddenly the pent…up tears of terror came in a flood。 Then she began to scream。
'Dear me； the girl's being hysterical。' Horace's tone was menacing； pitiless。 'John； Michael； carry her to the altar。 And I think we'll also have to bind her and gag her！'
Sheila's struggles were futile in the grip of the two young men who hastened to obey their leader's orders。 She was seized； gagged with her own underwear； her wrists bound fast with a pair of tights。 Wide…eyed she edged as far as she could from the cold； stiff girl who lay beside her； those dead eyes having been prised open so that Sylvia stared sightlessly up at the moon directly above。
'Now we can begin。' Horace held his arms aloft； noting with no small degree of satisfaction the way in which his followers flung themselves prostrate。 His naked body glowed with a fiery warmth in spite of the fact that the temperature seemed to have dropped considerably during the last few minutes。 The moon was darkening； a fleeting bank of cloud possibly。 His gaze rested on the beautiful corpse； now a pale silhouette； her details obscured and flicked on to Sheila who had ceased to struggle。 His arousement was almost painful but he knew he must wait until the Master had claimed this sensual human offering before he took his own pleasure。
Dark now； so dark that it was impossible even to make out the outlines of those around him。 Still muttering； incoherently because at times like these everybody was afraid。 Closing his eyes because he did not want to see； feeling the atmosphere cold and alive with a sensation akin to that of an electric storm。 Hearing the fearful babblings of his followers。 Sheila struggling with her bonds； shuddering and gasping as though she was orgasming。。。
Then the smell； a putrid stench that had the bile rising up into Horace's throat； an odour that was familiar and all the more frightening because he recognised it。
Like the stench of a foul stable that had not been cleaned out for centuries； rancid with urine； excreta and animal sweat。 Horace clasped his hands to his ears in an attempt to shut out the pounding of hooves and the terrified human screams。
Sabat had not liked Bishop Wentnor even in the days of his own priesthood when the bishop had been a mere canon。 Overweight； florid…faced （there were rumours that he drank heavily）； all bining to give a super