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'Can you not return to the white…skinned forces who live and die daily？' Sabat's eyes narrowed and again he suspected a trick of some kind。 This man was neither senile nor so weak that he could not flee； and the way was clear to him if he so wished。
'I can neither seek help from dark nor light。' A constricted sob。 'You see； my friend； I am a traitor。 I have served both sides in turn。'
'Oh？' Sabat experienced an unexpected twinge of guilt。 Mark or Quentin Sabat； there was a parallel。 It might have been himself； weakened and pallid on the floor before him。
'It is true enough。' Breath expelled in anguish。 'I fought on the plains alongside my own kind。 Then one day I was captured。 I expected to be put to the sword but instead I was offered my life in exchange for my services。 At the time I could not see what harm there was in it； for the warriors of both sides are countless； but soon it was too late and I realised my mistake； my unforgivable treachery。 I became an outcast； a beggar of the streets； kicked and spat upon by both races in their contempt。 Now I serve nobody； not even myself。 If I could die then I would do so gladly but there is no death here； only eternal strife and struggle。 I shall always be a traitor and here I must hide forever from the eyes of all。 Learn from my fate； stranger。 A warrior can only serve one faction else he destroys himself。'
Sabat nodded； turned away； knew why he had sought out this nameless sufferer。 As he emerged into the weakening sunlight above he wished that he had asked the other's name。 It might have been Mark。 Or Quentin。 But there was no time to return now and perhaps it was better not to know。
A sudden sense of urgency。 He had experienced it on occasions before； a realisation that he had to hurry； that a return to his mortal body was imperative。 A kind of instinct。
The loincloth was exchanged for the feathers of a peregrine falcon once more； a fierce bird of prey that hurtled through thick cloud and clear skies； scattering smaller birds with shrill cries of fear as it neared the earth。 A flock of homing pigeons parted to allow him passage； their uncanny radar disturbed so that they flew round aimlessly in circles before bunching up again。
Sabat saw the lake first； a shimmering sheet of water sparkling in bright sunlight； reflecting the wooded mountains which towered above it。 Veered； rising steeply； swooping when he spotted the tiny insignificant chapel buried amidst the dark forest。 Something else too； a moving shiny orange shape that wound its way up the muddy cart…track。 For some reason Madeleine Gaufridi was returning in the VW！ His inexplicable astral warning system had not failed him！
With only seconds to spare he entered his slumbering body； jerked it back to a state of wake fullness。 A few bemused seconds and then he remembered everything； was sitting up when Madeleine burst in through the door。
'Slothful cochon！' her eyes blazed with anger。 'A guard； and yet you sleep the day away。 And with danger imminent； too！'
She turned； stalked towards the lead coffin。 'Here； give me a hand。 We must be sure that everything is all right。'
Sabat gripped the edge of the heavy lid； felt an icy coldness spreading from his fingertips to the rest of his body。 He grunted； exerted his muscles and the lid came up slowly。
'Ah； it is 。。。 Look？ Madeleine Gaufridi almost fainted； her features blanching； pointing down at the body which lay now only partially wrapped in its blanket shroud。 'Look； Sabat； don 'tyou see what's happened？ My Louis lives even in death。 His powers have not deserted him！'
Sabat saw。 And what he saw nearly had him slamming the coffin lid shut。 The head and body； separated by the heavy sharp blade of the guillotine； had joined themselves together again！ Just a wide bloody scar ringing the neckline and even that appeared to be healing！
CHAPTER TEN
'It is not possible。' Madeleine's features were trembling with a shaky frightened smile。 'And yet with my beloved all things have been possible； always。 He is preparing to rise on Walpurgisnacht of his own accord。 It is not the flesh which we must eat but that of another human being。 And Louis will join us at the feast！'
Sabat dropped the lid the last few inches and it thudded shut； vibrating the candlesticks which stood on the ghastly stove that served as an altar。 He； too； was trembling。
'But that is not why I returned so soon；1 she snapped。 'Sabat； there is danger and we must change our plans。 Once again there is a detective on our trail； but not an ordinary one this time。 His name is Pieter Daunay and even now he is heading this way。 Centuries ago he would have been feared as the Witchfinder； for he specialises in harassing satanic cults。 I have spoken with Andre and then hurried back here。 You must see to it that Pieter Daunay does not leave these mountains aliver
Sabat hoped his expression did not give him away。 With an effort he controlled his facial muscles； even raised his eyebrows in amazement。 'Surely one man cannot instil such fear into a following as powerful as Andre Schmid's！'
'He is cunning； this man。 Some say he has supernatural powers but I have an open mind on that。 Anyway； he must be annihilated without delay； Sabat！'
Sabat nodded； his face still impassive。 In his mind he saw Daunay again； a slim fellow in his mid…thirties whose exceedingly handsome looks were spoiled by an unfortunate hump…back。 Devilishly shrewd； with a nose for things that other detectives overlooked。 Once he got on a scent he never gave up； hunting down his prey like a bloodthirsty stoat on the trail of a rabbit。 Sabat had met him； worked with him once； and Daunay had claimed the credit。 That was fine by Sabat； but now it seemed there was a direct confrontation looming。 It was not a pleasant prospect。
'All right；' Sabat nodded slowly。 'I'll get him but I'll have to do it my own way。 Any idea where he's hanging out？'
'He's booked in at the Hotel de la Paix on Museggstrasse by the Alpenstrasse。 He checked in yesterday afternoon； and according to the information I received he has gone walking in the mountains。 Which means he knows we are hereabouts and has already begun to look for us。'
'I'll start right away。' Sabat tapped the forting weight of the ？38 in his shoulder holster。 I'll need to take the van though。'
'Of course。' A faint smile twitched the corners of Madeleine's mouth。 'Report to Andre at the mune when you have been successful； but it is imperative that Daunay is removed by Walpurgisnacht。 Good luck。。。 Quentin！'
Sabat flinched as though she had delivered him a physical blow。 Then he was walking out towards the van； feeling her eyes boring into his back； following the erratic course of the VW until it was lost to her view amongst the tall pines。 Only then did he relax slightly。
Sabat did not bother checking out the Hotel de la Paix。 It would not have served any purpose； because had Daunay been there it would only have served to warn him； and if he was gone； as appeared to be the case； then there was no point It was unlikely that an investigator of Daunay's calibre would leave his itinerary with a receptionist
In all probability the detective had already linked the mongol's disappearance with the cannibal cult； he might even have knowledge of the small disused chapel in the mountains。
Sabat parked the van just off the Zurich…Strasse。 Christ； the vehicle still stank of death like an undertakers' wagon。 He locked it up； breathed in the sweet fresh mountain air and sauntered across into the Glacier Garden。 He had no plans and at the moment he wasn't making any。 He just needed time away from the atmosphere of Louis Nevillon。 A chance to relax； to gather his thoughts。
His hand strayed to his pocket； located the yellowed…blackened meerschaum pipe and a pouch that still had some of his sweet…scented mixture left in it。 The tobacco had gone dry； crackled and burned hot when he lit it。 He drew some of the smoke down into his lungs； let it out slowly in twin streams through his nostrils。 He did not cough； it did not taste rancid； instead it gave him a faint feeling of exhilaration。 He had got the effects of the pneumonia out of his lungs。 He was getting stronger； almost ready to fight back。 Three days and it would be Walpurgisnacht。 Time was running out。
In spite of the urgency； Sabat experienced a feeling of lethargy。 Tiredness but not exhaustion。 The sun was warm and he strolled over to an ornamental seat； lowered himself down on to it。 It would have been so easy to have slept； his eyelids starting to droop。
You must find Daunay and kill him！
He jerked； heard Quentin's rasping whisper。 God； he could just walk away from here now but he'd never be free of his brother's soul； a devilish possession that would follow him to the ends of the earth。 OK； he'd kill Pieter Daunay； but not right now。 This was not a matter to be rushed。
Drowsy； idly trying to formulate some kind of plan。 It would be futile