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that still lingered on his palate from last night's meal； smelled it again here as it drifted up from that month…old corpse。
It was Louis Nevillon all right。 The head so neatly severed from the shoulders rested on the belly； as though the navel had engorged and developed features。 Eyes that should have been closed were wide and staring： seeing！ The nostrils were clogged with mucus that had bubbled and dried； the lips open as though rigor mortis had frozen that final curse。 White flesh bloated as though it was ready to live again。
Madeleine's fear was gone； replaced by an expression of sadness that was slowly transforming into one of breathless joy。 She smiled； her dark eyes sparkled； and she was leaning over the mutilated remains of the Beast of France。
'My dearest；' a whisper that was intended only for dead ears。 'You have not left me after all。 You knew that I would e to you； that soon we shall be together again。'
Her lips pouted； descended slowly on to Louis Nevillon's bloodcaked rigid mouth in a long succulent kiss between the living and the dead； her tongue thrusting into that icy cavern as though simulating copulation in preparation for his resurrection。
Sabat tensed； clenched his fists in an inexplicable feeling of jealousy； hatred for this lifeless body that was even now an instrument of seduction。 He wanted to tear her from it； take his own revenge upon Louis Nevillon whilst it was still possible。 After that he would take Madeleine 。。。
But by the time Madeleine Gaufridi straightened up and looked at him Sabat was smiling； only his eyes betraying what had gone on in his mind。
'Carry him out to the van；！。 Madeleine snapped。 'Monsieur Grien will help you。 Take care that you do not drop him； for even in death my dearest one has feelings！'
CHAPTER SEVEN
SABAT'S HANDS burned as though with frostbite as he clambered back into the passenger seat alongside Madeleine； a coldness that was spreading to the rest of his body…the chill of death from handling Louis Nevillon。
The VW whined then fired and the headlights threw the darkness back。 Sabat glanced out of the side window； the mortuary door was closed now and no light shone from within。 Perhaps Monsieur Grien preferred to work in the dark。
Back down that mountain road； Madeleine using her brakes； their squeal jarring Sabat's nerves like a cry of anguish from beyond the grave。 He had to stop himself from turning round and peering over into the back of the van； cringing in horror at the grisly thing which lay there wrapped in an old blanket。 A sharp bend； something rolled。 A dull thud。 Sabat was reminded of that unholy kiss in the morgue； found himself staring intently at the girl by his side。 Her moods came and went； a young girl who grew to maturity and worse； and then became almost childlike again in her innocence。 She was relaxed now； a half…smile on her pert features。
'I don't suppose I'm to be told where we're headed？' Sabat murmured； 'even though I do happen to be your bodyguard/
'It wouldn't mean anything to you if I told you；' she replied。 'Just an old chapel that nobody uses these days except ourselves。 We'll have to lie up there during the daytime。 Andre and the others will be joining us after dark。'
He thought he detected a faint greyness in the eastern sky。 The speedometer needle hovered between sixty and seventy； a vibration that made conversation impossible。 Madeleine Gaufridi was driving flat out； desperate to reach this unknown chapel before dawn broke fully。
Skirting Lucerne； the lake a shimmering sheet of cold blackness on their right； starting to climb again。 Daylight was ing fast； the pine forests no longer patches of dark shadow beyond the range of the headlights。
A screeching of brakes and Sabat was thrown forward。 Madeleine cursed fluently in French； grated the reverse gear and shot backwards； slammed it back into bottom。
'Almost missed it。' She nodded towards a gap in the trees where a muddy track led away from the road。 'I must be very tired； I have been here often enough before。'
The VW bumped over uneven ground； the wheels spinning in a patch of thick mud but ing free again。 The track was so narrow now that the overhanging branches scraped the sides of the van。 Climbing； levelling out； going down a steep slope until they emerged into a wide clearing in the centre of which was a building that had undoubtedly been a chapel at some time。 Sabat stared with tired eyes； made out a square stone structure roughly the size of the chalet in which they had stayed at Interlaken； similar to that mountain morgue； only much smaller。
'It's very small；' he mented。
'Most of these remote chapels are；' she answered； leaning her head on the steering wheel。 'Just a few peasants on Sundays。 It was ample then and it is now。 God； I'm shattered。 You will have to get Louis out of the back on your own！'
Sabat opened the door； got out slowly。 That thing； he had to handle it； hold it close to his own body； feel its deathly cold chilling his blood。 The smell of death that would cling to him like the tang of human meat。 He took adeep breath； closed his eyes。 He didn't have any choice。
Madeleine was already opening the chapel door； waiting for him。 He stretched his hands into the back of the van； wished that there was a wheelbarrow or some other conveyance handy。 Even if there had been she would not have allowed him to use it 'Carry my loved one carefully for he is not really dead； only sleeping； ready to awaken on Walpurgisnacht？
The body had partially slipped out of the blanket； the head now separate and turned away from him。 He could not carry them both。 He would have to make two journeys。
He wrapped the blanket tightly around the corpse； dragged it towards him and then lifted it； staggered back and almost fell under the weight。 Two hundred pounds； maybe more；
The ground was slippery and he had to pick each step deliberately。 Fortunately it was light enough now for him to see where he was going。 So heavy； he wondered if he could make it inside； suddenly afraid of the wrath of his panion if he did not。
He stumbled on the step； almost fell； but somehow his weakened muscles did not fail him。 A blurred first glimpse of the interior of this place； similar to that morgue in some respects except that the altar had not been removed。 Instead it had been draped with black cloths and two funereal candles in holders of the same colour stood at either end。
He came to a halt； wheezed as he asked； 'Where。。。 where do I。。。 ？'
'In there。' Madeleine was at his side； pointing towards an open lead coffin which lay before the altar in the shadows。 'Careful。 Mind how you lay him down；'
Sabat grunted his relief aloud as he was suddenly relieved of the weight； dropped to his knees panting for breath。 The darkness of the coffin's interior had swallowed up Nevillon。 He didn't have to look。
'Now fetch 。。。 the rest。 Quickly！'
He found himself hastening to obey； almost running； feeling her eyes boring into him as he went back to the van。
Now he was having to force himself to do everything。 Not just because he was physically weakened but because the bile was burning in his throat and nausea was threatening to make him vomit。 The body had been nothing pared with 。。。 with that awful thing which he must now carry like a child clutching a football to itself。 Maybe if he closed his eyes。 No； he'd fall。 Don't look at it。 You have to because those sightless staring eyes won't let you look anywhere else。
Sabat's fingers were stiff and inflexible； seemed unable to secure a firm grip as he lifted the head out of the back of the van。 It slipped； spun； and for one terrible second he thought that he had dropped it。 Looking down； almost crying out aloud at what he saw。 The features were upturned towards him； those dull orbs staring into his； the lips open and mocking him。 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 fumbl