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'Kill her； Sabat； before it is too late。 We dare not trust the fire to consume one such as her！'
Still Sabat held his fire； gazing into those eyes but no longer did they transmit blazing hatred。 Instead they pleaded； became misty with tears of sorrow。 Promises replaced curses and threats。 'Spare me； Sabat； and I will be yours forever。 I am not evil； only accursed； a victim of Louis Nevillon who controls me in life and in death so that I shall always be reborn to be his； I cannot die except by your hand； you who are Quentin； a friend of Louis Nevillon and as powerful as he。 But I do not want to die because I shall be parted from your
'What are you waiting for Sabat？ Shoot her； or else give me the pisto！！'
Sabat's finger tightened on the trigger and in the same instant he moved the barrel an inch to the left； sighted against one of the blazing wooden frames； squeezed。 Again that thunderous roar and leaping flame； everything obscured by the villainous black powdersmoke； a curtain that was slow to shift in the windless atmosphere。
It seemed to take an indeterminable time to disperse and when it was gone there was nothing to see except a gaping blazing hole in the upper storey where that window had been。 Of Marie Gaufridi there was no sign。
'Well done； my friend；' Pierre de Lancre clasped a hand on Sabat's shoulder。 'You got her and not just the people of Labourd but the whole of France； nay the world； is well rid of her。 Let us stand here and listen to the screams of the dying； witches burned in a mass demonstration of justice such as is the law of this land according to our beloved king；'
Sabat stood and watched as manded； seeming to be detached from himself just as he had on that fevered night when pneumonia and Quentin had claimed him。 There was no way out； no escape for anybody trapped in that inferno。 Screams of agony were proof that some still lived； the unfortunate ones。 The smoke was eddying； a stench of burning wood and thatch and 。。。 roasting human flesh！ Sabat turned away； threw up； but Pierre de Lancre did not appear to notice。 He was too engrossed in watching the finale of this latest hunt。 Tomorrow he would embark upon another。
Now there was only the sound of crackling flames and crashing timbers； the night sky lit up by this huge funeral pyre； the execution chamber of the damned。
'They are all dead；' de Lancre wiped the barrels of his pistols on his cloak； pushed them into his belt 'That is another job well done； Sabat。 A satisfactory conclusion and all due to you for leading me here to them。 My friend； I am in your debt。 If you ever have need of me do not hesitate to call upon me。 Do that and Pierre de Lancre will e； that I promise。'
And then the witchfinder was gone； a fleeting shadow that merged into other shadows and left Sabat standing there alone； bemused； wondering about Madeleine and if she still lived。 His one consolation was that he had heeded her plea and put his bullet wide。 If she still lived and kept her promise then she was his。
It was an exciting thought； one that caused him to awake with an erection and do things to himself as he looked at the still slumbering form of Madeleine Gaufridi beside him in the cold grey early morning light。
'You must destroy them all； Sabat' Madeleine followed him to the door after they had both breakfasted on the cold meat from the previous night's 'roast'。 'It will not be easy but the future of you and I and Louis depend upon it。 Take the Renault。 It is stolen so take care in case the police spot it。 When your work is done return here and you will be well rewarded； that I promise you。'
Sabat walked across the clearing to the parked Renault； got the feeling that it was a kind of repeat performance； a re…run of the time he'd been sent to get Daunay。 Misgivings clouded his brain； bringing on a depression that had not really left him since that dream about the witch of Labourd。
Pierre de Lancre's words hammered until his temples throbbed。 'If you ever have need of me do not hesitate to call me。 Do that and Pierre de Lancre will e； that I promise*
And Sabat knew that he needed help； for once in his life he could not go it alone。
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
SABAT HAD left the Renault on the outskirts of Lucerne。 He dared not risk the possibility of being stopped by police on the lookout for the stolen car。 He boarded a bus； then walked the rest of the way to the mune； not hurrying because there was plenty of time。
From across the road it was barely visible through the trees and bushes； just a glimpse of a roof and a chimney that had a faint wisp of smoke curling up from it。 The cannibal cult were at home。 He walked on； found a recreation park； and spent an hour or two relaxing on a bench by the side of a pond。
Already it was evening； houses on the opposite side of the street beginning to cast their shadows。 There was not much time left and he still had not formulated a definite plan。 The weight of the ？38 back in its holster was forting。 Maybe that was the only way； to go in there shooting； take as many of them with him as possible before the sheer weight of numbers bore him down。 No； it had to be more subtle than that。
His dream of the previous night had never really left him。 He thought of Pierre de Lancre。 At a time such as this there was no better man to have on one's side。 But it had only been a dream and there was no chance of the witchfinder ing。 Had Sabat met him on the astral plane then there would have been a faint prospect of help。
A similar situation： that place in his dreams； the coven trapped inside by fire。 But it would not work here。 This was a thriving city。。。 an army of fire…engines would be screaming to the scene before the first smoke pall had a chance to settle； the flames doused within minutes。
And then he knew； a solution that came to him with shattering suddenness。 A blinding inspiration and so damnably simple。 The rope triangle oft used by the powers of evil to imprison their victims in a particular place； a device that was more secure than any lock or key！ The accursed could not break it； only an exorcist could gain entrance unharmed and free those trapped inside。
Euphoria that dispelled his mounting depression instantly； so that he had to fight to control his emotions。 He had not thought of it because he was （had been！） Mark Sabat； exorcist。 He had remembered it because he was Quentin Sabat； one of the ungodly who knew it as a device of the evil forces！ Furthermore； he would use it。 There was still a little time left。 In all probability Schmid and his followers would not leave before nightfall。
Sabat walked away quickly； having to restrain himself from breaking into a run。 Some suburban shops。 He noted their signs： a newsagent； a grocer。。。 an electrician。 Cursing beneath his breath； again almost running。 The end of the street； a T…junction。 Right or left？
He chose the left because that was what he believed in。 They had given him a sign。 Surely it was an omen。 He turned to his left； a fast walk that ate up the yards。
More shops； closer together in the form of a precinct。 A confectioner's； a tobacconist。。。 a sports shop。
His one fear was that it might be closed； that he would have to take the risk of breaking and entering to get what he wanted。 As he approached the glass door he saw a young man dressed in a fawn sweater with trousers to match in the act of turning the key。
This time Sabat ran； a sprint of several yards； pushing at the door； mouthing to the one on the other side。 A look of surprise and annoyance on the shopkeeper's face but he unlocked the door； kept a foot behind it。
'I am sorry； monsieur； but we have been closed a quarter of an hour。 I was stock…taking； had forgotten to lock the door。'
'Please。。。 please； I will not take up more than a few moments of your time。 I need two skipping ropes。'
'Skipping ropes！'Incredulity； raised eyebrows。'Monsieur； there is no urgency； surely。 Tomorrow。。。'
'But there 〃！' Sabat was trying not to appear petulant。 'My twin sons。 It is their birthday tomorrow and I had promised them skipping ropes but with the pressures of business I forgot。 Please； monsieur。'
The other sighed； flung back the door。 'e inside。 But please be quick。 I have a meal to go home to and my wife is not a patient woman。'
Sabat stepped inside； saw the ropes he needed so badly folded on a shelf behind the counter。 He snatched a couple up； fumbled with some franc notes； dropped three on the glass…topped counter。
'Your change； monsieur！'
But Sabat was not interested in change。 Out of the shop； retracing his steps across the precinct； fumbling to unfasten the folded nylon rope。 His fingers moved deftly； knotted ends which would suffice when hung in triangular formation。
Another thought； a frightening one because he had almost forgotten。 The newsagent was still open； selling late evening papers。 Sabat sighed with relief； purchased a packet of drawing pins。 He had