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He heard the laughter in his ears； a sound so familiar that he recognised it instantly。 Quentin's。 His own。 Louis Nevillon's。 There was no difference。
Mud squelched over his shoes and impeded his progress like some quagmire trying to prevent the rejoining of that body with its head。 An icy wind seemed to buffet him。 Madeleine was screaming something； cursing him； yelling at him to hurry。
Steps that were like a slow…motion replay of something he had done before。 Like the first night of his illness when he had been a spectator to his own actions。
Into the chapel； Madeleine behind him； still shouting…but her words were drowned by the roaring in his ears and that same taunting laughter。 Beside the coffin； forced to kneel because otherwise he would have had to drop the guillotined skull。 On his knees； total subservience to the dark powers。
'Join the head and body together！' Madeleine's voice finally made it through the maelstrom which raged inside him。 'Lay my beloved down with the reverence he deserves！'
Slumped over the side of the lead coffin； Sabat fumbled to unravel the blanket shroud from around the corpse's shoulders。 He closed his eyes； didn't want to see； felt soft dead flesh； the sponginess of the severed neck。 He retched。 Any moment he would throw up。
His hands were numb with the cold but even so he felt the faint movement of that thing on which his fingers rested； like some organism that breathed faintly。 Cold fetid breath that was a stale reminder of the taste in his own mouth。 And then with an effort he was snatching his hands away； falling backwards； lying there on a cold stone floor gasping for breath。
'You did well。' Madeleine Gaufridi glanced inside the coffin； turned back to him with a smile。 'You have earned a rest。 Over there in the corner is a mattress and some blankets。 We must rest； sleep away the daytime hours and be refreshed for when the others arrive tonight。'
Sabat staggered across to where she indicated； saw that a rough double…bed had been made up in readiness for them。
'Just a few nights and it will be Walpurgisnacht* she breathed softly； as she slipped out of her jeans and blouse； leaving on only her bra and pants。 'We shall remain here until then； Sabat； to guard the most precious of all bodies that has ever lain in state。 Just you and me。 Nobody else。' A little laugh that would have sent icy shivers down Sabat's spine had not his body already been frozen。 With numbed fingers he fumbled with buttons； wondered why the hell they couldn't keep their clothes on。
Her flesh rubbed against his as they slid between the blankets。 So cold； or was it himself？ He couldn't stop thinking about Nevillon and how she had thrust her tongue into that dead mouth； the same tongue that was starting to trace a frozen path up his own neck； her fingers going where once he had willed them。 Now he was stiffening with revulsion。
'Your lover。 。。' he snatched at the first excuse that came into his head； 'he might be angry if。。。 if you are unfaithful。'
'No；' she whispered and began to rub him softly。 'He won't because until Walpurgisnacht I am free。 Louis will only live again when his sacred flesh has been devoured。 He will be reborn into another male body and； who knows； Sabat； it could be you！ Then we shall be together； you and I： Louis Nevillon and Madeleine de Demandolx de la Palud reborn to live forever！'
Sabat shuddered silently and wondered how he managed to bee aroused。 He knew only too well…because Madeleine and Louis Nevillon had him totally in their power。 Mark Sabat； priest and exorcist； was dead； finished； Quentin Sabat was in his place； the same body but the soul was as evil as that of the guillotined corpse which lay in that coffin； only a few yards away from where Sabat and Madeleine were joined in a union that was more than just a physical copulation。
Sabat stirred restlessly； tried to tell himself that he had been in a fevered nightmare； that he was back in his own London home； it was all a dream and now it would evaporate with waking。
But Madeleine Gaufridi was there； wearing that long black dress which she had worn the evening of that vile feast。 She appeared to have been up for some time for the dark candles on the altar were burning steadily； giving offa pungent aroma of sickly perfumed wax。 The lid of the coffin was closed。
She saw that he was awake； fixed him with a stare that was almost hostile。 'Get dressed； Sabat。 The others will be here shortly。'
He nodded； hastened to obey because he was cold and maybe his clothing would help to warm his flesh。 As he shrugged himself into his jacket he felt the weight of the ？38 in its holster bumping against him。 He still had his gun but it was no more use to him than a child's water pistol。
A trestle table near the door had been laid as though in preparation for some kind of buffet。 He stiffened when he noted the crockery and cutlery。 A pile of plates that appeared to be made out of some kind of black ivory； knives and forks that had been blackened。 There was no sign of any food。 That was what worried and nauseated him most。
'Tonight we celebrate the advent of Walpurgisnacht and ask the Master to give life to Louis Nevillon again。' Her tone was in the form of a recitation； her features impassive。 'Ii is very important that everything is done right。'
Sabat licked his dry cracked lips。 A feeling akin to embarrassment bordering on fear。 Fear had always been something virtually unknown to him。 Until now。 Now he knew that he was powerless to fight and it was a terrifying prospect。
'Listen！' She held up a finger。
Somewhere he heard the sound of approaching vehicles； engines that revved when the wheels stuck in the squelching mud。 ing closer。 Louder。 Dying away。
A moment's silence then low muttered voices and the slamming of car doors。
'They are here；' Madeleine Gaufridi added； smiling； 'Now we shall。。。'
She was interrupted by a scream from outside； a piercing yell of terror that was magnified and rendered more terrible because of the stillness of this remote wooded clearing。
And Sabat recognised it as the scream of a child that was suddenly cut off； as though a hand had been clapped over its mouth！ He found himself glancing back towards that table and noting again that there was no food on display！
CHAPTER EIGHT
THE DOOR opened and people began to file in。 Andre Schmid was in the lead； but was no longer clad in those worn； tight…fitting jeans which rolled over at the waistband。 Scarcely recognisable from a distance； he was dressed in black flowing robes that gave him a monastic appearance； a cowl that was flung back so that his jowls were still visible。
However； it was the limp form which he carried in his arms which attracted Sabat's attention； hypnotised him with a feeling of horror。 A child； doubtlessly the one who had screamed a few moments ago； now head down； with blood dripping steadily from a gash across his forehead。
Schmid paused before t