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'Hurry； Sabat。' Madeleine had pushed close to him。 'It has been a long； strenuous evening and we are hungry！'
He reacted automatically； tried not to look as the skewer pierced the blackened flesh。 A hiss of air； a faint echo of a cry of torment。 Fat sizzled； juices ran。 Hotter than Hades itself。
Slicing with the blade； swaying on his feet and trying to will himself to pass out； but cruelly consciousness failed to desert him。
'We are hungry； Sabat。 Hurry！' Voices； male and female； deep and shrill； eager to fill their bellies。
Again he was the robot slave； a mechanism that obeyed with the finesse and skill of a qualified chef。 Cutting； flipping the slices on to those black plates which were snapped up with eager hands。 Hacking at stubborn bones； milling gourmets hustling him。
So unreal； a black buffet of human carnage； the coarse munching of a coven of revolting greed as they harassed him with empty plates； some even tearing their own food from the mutilated carcase。 Sabat had not intended to eat but he found his mouth full； the chewed meat slipping easily down his throat； his stomach accepting it。
Only Andre Schmid remained clothed； a cowled faceless silhouette standing by the coffin watching them。 Sabat felt the other's power； the sheer force of it dominating his every action； controlling the movement of his fork from plate to lips and back again。
So cold； the candles spluttering and dimming； figures lying on the floor too spent to copulate again； their stomachs bloated with the unholy meat。 A voice； it had to be Andre Schmid's； a whisper that vibrated and had them cringing。 'Accept our offering； O Great One； for tonight we have feasted as you would have us feast and we ask you to be with us on Walpurgisnacht when the body of Silvain Nevillon shall be given life again。 Let him emerge as one of us； to guide us。'
One candle was already out； the other flickering its last； casting weird shapes that were icy cold when their black fingers brushed against human flesh。 Sabat fought to close his eyes but the lids would not move。 He saw faces that came and went and were replaced by others； human shapes that dropped on to all fours and became snarling beasts； heard cries of the damned。 Eyes that glowed like burning coals and died amidst a chorus of torment。 Things that were unrecognisable except one frail shadowed shape； a hideous misshapen child that writhed and smoked and cursed unintelligibly。 A fury that went beyond the realms of mortal anger； trying to get at them but being pulled back by invisible hands。 Screaming； crying in its helplessness； being dragged away into the darkness； but even as it was disappearing it managed to free one hand； pointed it accusingly at Sabat。 And then it was gone as though it had never been。
Sabat felt the tears of grief and shame welling up inside him； but before they could burst forth he had pitched forward into that dark unfathomable pit； so cooling after the heat of that oven。
CHAPTER NINE
IT WAS full daylight when Sabat stirred； moved his stiff limbs with some difficulty。 He was naked and shivering uncontrollably； trying to tell himself that the fever had e back and given him ghoulish inexplicable nightmares。
But it was all so horribly real； Madeleine lying there by the altar； which was draped again in black tapestries； her shapely legs lewdly spread as though she had been waiting for him to awake so that she could mand him to kiss her again。 Her eyes were closed but he got the feeling that she wasn't asleep。 Maybe a trap of some kind？ There was no sign of the others； perhaps they were hiding outside in the wood； waiting in ambush。 Tempting him to escape so that they could strike him down。
No； they didn't need to do that because he would not flee。 He was a prisoner here as surely as though his limbs were chained and manacled； a bodyguard to the dead。 If they wished to kill him they would have done so by now。
'You are hungering for breakfast； Sabat？' Madeleine Gaufridi's eyes opened； there was a mocking expression on her pale features。
'No；' he grunted； felt his stomach churn。 *I could not eat anything。'
'Human flesh is so filling； so satisfying；' she laughed。 'It is good for the figure； too。'
'Where are the others？'
'Gone back with Andre。 We shall not see them again until Walpurgisnacht。'
'And in the meantime？'
'You stay here and guard the desecrated body of my beloved。 You guard him with your soul； for if he suffers harm Andre will take that。 Perhaps your body also。'
'What about you？'
'I shall be leaving you shortly。' She sat up； groped for her clothes。 'There is work for me to do； which is why you must stay here alone。'
Sabat fell silent。 Strangely he did not think of escape； only of a job that had to be done。 Quentin was conditioned to serving the powers of darkness； it had never been any other way。 He still had the ？38； he would fight to the last shell to defend the Left Hand Path and its followers。
Some time later he watched her go； the VW bumping and skidding down the muddy track through the trees。 He stood in the doorway listening to the sound of its engine dying away。 Then silence； not even a bird singing in this dense patch of mountain forest where all noise was blanketed； a stronghold of escalating evil cut off from the rest of the world。
Sabat felt drained； physically and mentally； could not get the previous night's revulsion out of his mind。 God； there was that awful taste cloying his palate； wouldn't let him forget it。 If only he had some toothpaste or an antiseptic mouthwash。 Even so he doubted whether it would rid him of the flavour。
He didn't want to go back inside。 Not with that hideous unholy body in the coffin； a thing that was almost alive。 You got the feeling that Nevillon was only sleeping； that he might wake up at any moment。
Sabat tried to collect his thoughts。 Somehow it was easier without Madeleine around。 These people had learned from the rites of the Cochon Gris； which apparently had spread across the world from the West Indies； the ultimate in voodoo magic； cannibals who were determined not to let their primitive customs die。 Nevillon was some kind of grand houngan； a disciple of Satan who was determined that the Left Hand Path should triumph on the continent。 Doubtless he was a reincarnation of the infamous Silvain Nevillon just as Madeleine Gaufridi； as she called herself； was Madeleine de Demandolx de la Palud reborn。 Together their evil was very powerful； almost invincible。 It was little wonder that they sought an alliance with the notorious Quentin Sabat； knew that if they overcame Mark Sabat then Quentin would live again； a kind of 'hit man' to do their dirty work。 They would find their followers amongst the black magic cults of the world； kids who did it for kicks then suddenly found they'd got a tiger by the tail。 It would spread like a fast…growing malignant cancer。
Sabat pursed his lips。 If it hadn't been for that bout of pneumonia he wouldn't be here now； at least not in his present predicament。 They'd made a pretty good all round job of ensnaring him。 Not only was he possessed by Quentin； but the law was also looking for the killer of that detective in Interlaken。 Schmid and his friend would lose no time in producing the necessary incriminating evidence if Sabat went to the police。 And after Walpurgisnacht there would be no hope。 Once he had eaten of that terrible flesh there would be no way back for Sabat。 It could be that he would find himself possessed by Louis Nevillon then…Sabat； the Beast of France！ He shuddered。
Then； amidst the despair； a sudden idea glimmered like a distant light to one lost in a nocturnal wilderness。 The astral plane！ He had the ability to transport himself there。 Madeleine was gone； she wouldn't be back for a few days and it was unlikely that anybody else would e here。 He could draw the pentagram inside the chapel。 He sighed。 A defence against evil was no good when he was evil himself。 In which case why bother with a defence？ One did not have to be pure to venture on to the plane！
He pursed his lips； at least it was better than remaining here。 It was no means of physical escape； but in the past he had benefited from the wisdom of those who were not shackled by mortal bonds。
Sabat went back inside； retched at the stench of stale cooking； the acrid odour of roasted human flesh。 There was no point in chalking out a pentagram on the floor。 Indeed； he was probably safer without its confinement。 He glanced towards the oblong shape of that coffin in the altar shadows； half…expected to see the lid starting to rise。 No； nothing would happen until Walpurgisnacht。
He stretched himself out on the blanket where he had spent the night。 Every muscle in his body ached； every nerve taut。 It wasn't going to be easy。 He didn't even know if he would be able to relax； let alone sleep the slumber necessary for his soul to depart his earthly body and go in search of the astral plane。
Mark or Que