按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！
f death had already closed over him； trying to reason but giving it up in the end。 And somewhere someone was cursing but Sabat took no notice； and eventually the voice which was somehow vaguely familiar died away。
Whether he had slept or whether he had just lain there staring unprehendingly up at the night sky； Sabat had no idea。 Hours that were a void； irretrievable； had passed away。 For only when the faint greyness of a false dawn was in the eastern sky did Sabat's brain begin to function again。 His head was aching； he retched and would have vomited had there been food in his stomach； but he knew he had returned from that terrible mental wasteland。 Unscathed。
Slowly he rose to his feet and cautiously； testing each step before he put his full weight on the ground； returned to that gaping hole in the ground。 Doubtless it was an old family tomb； an underground chamber of the dead which had eroded away beneath the thick grass； finally collapsing when two men had fought to the death above its fragile entrance。
Sabat turned； walked away。 He shuddered； it was like a video recording of his final encounter with Quentin that time when they had both fallen into that open grave 。。 。
And then the realisation hit him； a bolt of euphoria borne on the wind of disbelief； and only when the wind had blown itself out was the truth left for him to see； to feel。 A sense of freedom extricating itself from hypnotic bondage； his brain working with the ease of a well…oiled engine。 Frightening because he knew what had happened； had known all along but had been powerless to alter the course of events。 He turned； saw the outline of that huge gabled house against the eastern sky。 The Assistant missioner slept peacefully in his bed； totally unaware how close he had been to death。 And Sabat shuddered as he realised how close he himself had been to mitting a terrible cold…blooded murder to promote the cause of a new regime of atrocity by the powers of evil。
He recognised the voice； the cursing； this time Quentin's。 For just as Sabat was now free again； his brother's black soul was once more imprisoned。 The pendulum had swung back； the fight would go on in just the same way that that eternal battle between the forces of Good and the forces of Evil was being fought on the arid desertland of the astral plane。
Eventually Quentin simmered into an uneasy silence。 Sabat glanced down at himself； his blood…soaked clothes were drying stiff； a warrior walking from the plane of carnage unscathed except for a few minor scratches； and that cut on his cheek which had stopped bleeding。 That shaven disciple of evil bent on blind revenge had been his saviour； the fall into the tomb and the bloody killing had reversed the rotes within Sabat himself； the evil soul being overthrown and subsequently Lilith's hypnotic spell broken。 Inexplicable except to the gods of darkness themselves and even the man they had attempted to make their servant only partly understood。
Sabat smiled to himself as he slid behind the wheel of his Daimler； breathed a sigh of relief as the engine fired first time。 In spite of her army of blood…lusting hypnotised 'vampires' this past night had boded ill for Lilith； Goddess of Darkness。 Now for Sabat it had bee a personal issue and already the fires of vengeance were burning inside him； a turmoil of fury building up against those who had done this to him； his hate directed at the woman who had fled the country to plot her final coup of evil。 Catriona Lealan！ Once he had thrilled to her sadism but now his feelings were far from masochistic。 Fantasy in reverse as he sped along the deserted dawn roads； Catriona bound and helpless； the vicious leather whip in Sabat's own hand！ He gripped the steering wheel with grim intensity at the thought； an arousement that went unnoticed as his anger mounted。
He saw the red weals on her tender flesh； the skin breaking open； heard the lashes like 。38 shots amidst her screaming； her futile pleading with him to stop。 Blood…streaked； writhing； the thong cutting deep。 Cries that came from Lilith herself； but went unheeded as did the cursings of Quentin。
Finally a corpse； its former beauty unrecognisable； only the eyes still blazing with the fury of a spirit that did not belong to the body； a soul that had to be destroyed before it possessed again； a leech crushed on dead flesh before it crawled onto another living creature。 And （here was only one way！
Oh God； Sabat was enjoying every second of the unholy mutilation； a preview in his mind of things to e； remembering Ilona and how she had suffered。 The headless body of Catriona Lealan； her breasts burst asunder by the steel stake driven between them； volcanoes erupting their crimson molten lava； the soul of Lilith demented and snarling in defeat。
Only then would it all be over； the nazi army mindless again because their hypnotic controlling forces were gone； anarchy receding now that there was no organisation。
Only Catriona's death would bring all this about。 She had assigned Sabat to kill and now the hunter was turning on her。
But first he had to find her。
CHAPTER TWELVE
OF ALL the cities in the world Sabat liked Paris best； an atmosphere of bygone days； a quaintness that even the Nazis had been unable to destroy during the war years。 And he was determined that their skinhead imitators were not going to despoil it； for somewhere amidst the teeming millions in this setting of spring gaiety Catriona Lealan lay hidden； weaving her plans； a twentieth…century hag； a reincarnation of one who had knitted and watched the heads roll from the guillotine； a gruesome parody who would once again turn the streets red with blood。
But Sabat's was no aimless search。 The day before his departure for France he had spent in his extensive library； a room lined with books from floor to ceiling； the result of many years devoted to collecting literature on the occult for even in his priesthood days Sabat had been intensely fascinated by this subject。 And eventually he had found what he was looking for； the ancient evil which had dominated the French capital three hundred years before the Revolution； a time when the country was steeped in witchcraft； when surely Lilith； the vampire； the succubus； was abroad。 For in 1438 one who bore the name of Pierre Vallin had given his own baby daughter to Satan； and rumour had it that the evil one had changed his form to that of a woman of exquisite beauty and had copulated with Vallin as a reward for the human offering。
Sabat's lips had tightened； his eyes narrowed as he turned the pages of this history of ancient demonic rites。 Had the Evil One himself actually changed shape or had he sent one of his most trusted disciples？ For surely the whole foul business had the unmistakable touch of Lilith； Goddess of Darkness！ In which case Catriona； possessed by Lilith； had returned to the scene of her five…hundred…year…old infanticide in search of the supreme power necessary for her final coup … the overthrow of society。
Sabat found another brief reference to the fact that Pier