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I wish it hadn't turned out this way； that I hadn't bargained with 。 。。 them； that I'd had you to myself this last hour！'
'Sabat；' she had to make a determined effort to speak。 'It 。 。 。 doesn't have to be this way。 We could go some place； you and I； start again 。。 。'
'I don't rightly know where you'll be going；' he answered； 'but one thing's for sure； /won't be there。 Your army's finished。 Even now they're mooching the streets wondering what the hell they're carrying oversize pistols for； and being picked up by the police in lorry…loads。 The Disciples of Lilith are finished and the Liberation Front will bee just the Liberation Front once more； and nobody will take much notice of them。'
She gave a sob； hung her head and when she looked up again Sabat was gone out through the door which by his strong magic he had kept closed to her。 Now she was trembling violently； knowing that the three she feared most； those she had fled from throughout her many evil lives； would e for her before darkness was melted by the dawn。
Sabat closed the door behind him； crossed the narrow street and stood in the shadows opposite。 Watching and waiting because he had to be sure。
All around he could hear the sound of police sirens； excited shouting； cursing。 But no gunfire from the gendarmes because the ragged army offered no resistance。 It would be like this in many other major cities； he wondered briefly how McKay was faring。
And then Sabat saw them ing； three uniformed gendarmes with bolstered pistols； flitting like wraiths put of the shadows； going into that house of terror。 It seemed that only seconds had elapsed before they came out； two of them supporting a broken Catriona the third one bringing up the rear。 Her head hung forward so that her features were hidden behind a mass of blonde hair and not a sound came from her。 Then the darkness swallowed them up and Sabat ' knew that they had gone and would not be returning。
And he wondered about those three gendarmes； a trio for whom a long hunt was over and whose names were undoubtedly Sanvi； Sansanvi； and Semangelaf。
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
'JESUS CHRIST Almighty； Sabat！' Detective Sergeant Clive McKay of the CID sipped his whisky and regarded Sabat steadily。 'I don't know what the fuck you did in Paris but from all accounts it was just like it was here； hundreds of skinheads and dropouts； the scum of the Continent； just wandering aimlessly about the streets carrying these diabolical guns that they hadn't a clue how to use； and handing 'em to the cops as though they were offering cigarettes。 Didn't know where they'd got 'em or who gave 'em the fucking things。 Bloody crazy。'
'And the Lealans？' Sabat's expression gave nothing away。
'As if you didn't bloody well know！' McKay grinned but knew an explanation was expected of him all the same。 'Vince was discovered off his rocker in a house in Montmartre； along with a dead baby and another one whose mother can't believe she's got it back alive。 No sign of Catriona but perhaps you know more about that than us。 And old Vince couldn't tell if he knew； because at present he's banging on the door of his cell and yelling that they've got to let him out because he's Stalin and the people need him。 And we've got reports of kids with these gun things as far afield as Sydney； Tokyo； New York。 I guess there must be a few in the Soviet； too； but they'll be dealt with and we'll never hear of it！'
'Shall we just say that it was yet another clash of the forces of Good and Evil？' Sabat stretched； didn't attempt to hide his yawn。 'A battle that will go on long after you and I aren't here； Clive。 We'll win some and lose some； but I doubt whether there will ever be a conclusive end to it all。'
But McKay's biggest problem was the report he would have to type out for the AC。 In some ways he both envied and resented the police chief's role in such matters。 Just another office job； delegation and arses to kick when things went wrong。 So safe； no danger at all。。。
Sabat knew that his astral body was going to wander off somewhere that night。 He sensed it as he climbed into bed； a kind of restless fatigue in which the average man would toss and turn and kick hell out of the bedclothes all night。 But Sabat was past caring； even Quentin had lapsed into what might； hopefully； be a long period of silence。
Sabat felt exhilarated by the speed of his precipitation from the world below； a night creature on the wing； going where he was led by some inexplicable instinct； a homing…pigeon that could not disobey。 Going faster and faster； out of darkness into light； a sun that scorched the land below it。 Recognisable； Sabat smelling the putrefaction of bodies that had laid in the heat throughout the day； but this time he was not going to visit that arid battleground； drawn on elsewhere。
Now it was cooler； the landscape beneath him rugged with odd patches of greenery here and there； mountains so high that some of the peaks were obscured by cloud； a country as dark and frightening as that where the vultures gorged themselves on the slain。 Yet there was a similarity between the two。
Sabat did not see the castle until he was almost upon it； a turreted shape materialising out of the mist； its stonework weather beaten and crumbling。 Curious； he alighted before the portals； saw the massive weed…covered courtyard open to him and changed his form to that of a peasant； a humble man clad in goatskins who entered with trepidation。
At first he thought that no one lived here for the place had a desolate look about it； but even as he stood there peering about him he heard the slow shuffling footsteps of somebody approaching； a shambling figure that came into view through one of the archways。
'We were expecting you； Sabat；' the newer was clad in a suit of hides that had seen many winters in a land where summer was unknown； the material appeared to cling to his flesh as though it formed an exterior layer of skin； a squat frame； the head seeming too large and heavy for the shoulders； the legs short and bowed。 The features were barely visible beneath a matted growth of jet black hair and beard； the eyes small and bright and missing nothing； flicking over Sabat。 'e； follow me for your time here is short； unlike mine。'
Sabat followed the keeper of the castle inside； saw bare walls that ran with moisture； the furniture fashioned out of felled timber。 A dismal edifice in which there was no fort； footsteps echoing eerily； and if you listened hard enough you could hear a constant moaning； either it was the wind howling through the battlements or else the souls of the damned crying in torment from the dungeons below。
The guide plucked a lighted torch from a bracket in the wall and began to descend a flight of uneven stone steps； Sabat was aware of the damp cold； an aroma like rotting flesh ing up to meet them。 Down and still down； then along passages with earth floors that intersected； an underground maze where the stench was stronger； the screams louder。
Finally they came to a heavy wooden