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ad almost overlooked them。
The shadows had nearly reached the other side of the road。 The streetlights were already on； seeming to make the gathering dusk deepen。 Sabat walked further down from the mune entrance； knew that he would have to bide his time until full darkness fell； when he could move unseen to affix the ropes on both the front and back doors。 It would only take a matter of a minute or two。 Beyond that he had no plans。 He would leave the rest to Andre Schmid！
Dusk seemed to take an eternity blending into darkness。 Sabat thought about risking his furtive mission but patience was essential。 One mistake and he would not get a second chance。
Finally he moved； walking cat…like on tip…toe； crouching； the shadows of the overhanging trees swallowing him up。 He paused in the drive； several of the upstairs windows were lighted but the ground floor was in darkness。 Again he was reminded of that house at Labourd。 A figure passed briefly across the window； just a naked male torso； rolls of fat that resembled a woman's breasts。 Andre Schmid！
Sabat crept to the door； three drawing pins in his left hand； the rope in his right。 The wood was soft and rotten； the sharp points going in easily。 Fifteen seconds； maybe less； and the front entrance was barred to all who sought to leave or enter。 He smiled faintly in the darkness； then moved on； following the wall to his left。
The rear door was dealt with just as swiftly and then Sabat was standing back in the shadows admiring his handiwork； remembering how he himself had once been the victim of an almost identical psychic attack。 It hadn't worked； simply because he had the gift of exorcism； had been able to break the barrier。 This coven would not have that advantage； their evil magic would be no match for the power of Quentin！
He stepped back into the shrubs lining the short drive and waited。 He had to stay and see what happened。 If by any chance they managed to break out。。。 he fingered the butt of his ？38 inside his jacket。 There would be only one course left open to him if that happened。
He listened intently； tried to determine what was happening in that upper storey。 Muffled conversation； a girl was squealing； others were laughing。 Apparently the cannibal cult could not wait until they got to the old chapel for the orgies to begin。
Shouting。 Sabat recognised Schmid's angry tones。 Things were getting out of control and the mune leader was anxious that everybody prepared themselves for Walpurgisnacht and whatever it held for them。
Sabat tensed； heard them ing downstairs； a shambling rabble high on drugs and alcohol； their appetites whetted for a feast of human flesh！ He pressed himself back into the bushes； drew his '？38； waited。
Andre Schmid； clutching a portmanteau containing his robes and various impedimenta needed for the ing black mass； turned back to survey his followers。 Rabble； the scum of the continent。 They didn't understand； just did it for kicks； but they had their uses。 A fair…haired girl dressed in filthy worn jeans was mopping at a damp patch on her thigh with a tissue。 Schmid smiled briefly。 Jeanette； too； had her uses！
'e on；' he growled。 'It is already dark and we must hurry。 We have to find vehicles first。'
His hand closed over the doorknob and that was when he knew that something was dreadfully wrong。 A sensation like a faint electric shock to begin with； spreading down through his fingers and up his arm； growing in strength； travelling upwards like an angina pain。 Something struck him in the chest； an invisible physical blow hurling him back so that he cannoned into some of the others； sprawling them with him on the floor。 Somebody screamed； it sounded like Jeanette。
'Andre！ What is it？'
He lay there dazed for a moment； the pain subsiding as quickly as it had e； leaving in its wake a flesh…creeping pins…and…needles。 He grunted； began to struggle up。 Something was wrong with that door； somebody had connected up an electric current to it。 He wasn't going to touch it again。
'Keep away from that door；' he grunted。 'Somebody's 。。。 done something to it。'
'Whatever do you mean； Andre？* Jeanette's eyes were wide； her voice shrill。 'Whatever would anybody want to do anything to the door for？'
'I don't know；' he backed away another step。 'Let's go out of the back door。'
Andre's arm and chest still hurt； he was both angry and frightened。 Afraid that they would not make it up to the chapel in the mountains in time。 Desperation； almost running； clawing at the flimsy handle。
A scream； it was Jeanette again； her shriek taken up by the others after a second's pause whilst their brains accepted what their eyes saw。 It was as though an invisible boot had been implanted with full force in Andre's groin； doubling him up； throwing him to the floor。 He writhed； clutching at his groin； his features deathly white。
The group pushed back； formed into a cowering semicircle； watching his agonised convulsion in shocked horror。 His features were twisted with pain； he was trying to speak but was having difficulty getting the words out。 'Don't。。。 don't go near。。。 doors。'
'Why？' Jeanette asked the question that everybody in that filthy kitchen wanted to ask。
'I've heard of。。。 of what's happening；' Schmid was pale and trembling； lurching to his feet and holding on to the fair…haired girl for support。 'Somebody's making a。。。 a psychic attack on us！'
Shocked silence。 Nobody really understood but they had seen enough of their leader's witchcraft over the past few months to realise that there were terrible things beyond their ken which were better kept that way。
Schmid stared round at them； his small eyes flicking from one to the other； glazing as though his mind was absent。 As though something inexplicable was happening to it！ They backed away； wanted to flee but there was nowhere to run。 They were all trapped inside the house！
'You scum！' Andre Schmid's veins stood out； his pallid plexion beginning to suffuse with blood。 The film over his eyes had cleared and they blazed with something that went far deeper than just anger。 'You're nothing but scum； the lot of you。 This is all your doing。 The Master； and he whom we were going to raise from the dead tonight； have refused to have the likes of you present at such an occasion。 So they have attacked； imprisoned us here。 And me！' He tapped his chest； could still feel the force of that inexplicable blow。 'Because of you / am fated to be denied the right to bee Louis Nevillon reborn！ Me； a high priest； relegated to the status of a drop…out。'
They glanced at one another； their fear merging into a growing anger。 Fury united。 They had submitted to the mands and whims of this man for too long。 They had given themselves to him； bee his slaves。 Pandered to his obsessions and whims； traded their self…respect for his pleasures。 They had been used！
Drugs and alcohol began to merge into a spluttering seething fuse that burned towards the ultimate explosion。 There were pleasures that were fading from their lives。 Without Schmid those unholy feasts and orgies would be no more。 Or would they？
'It's his doing！' a big red…haired youth pointed an accusing finger at the man who now stood alone。 'He's been using us。 We're trapped here when we should be feasting on what we were promised。 It's all a trick。 He's done something to the doors to trap us in here。 So why should we be denied our Walpurgisnacht 。/〃*/？'
'Michel is right。' It was Jeanette who echoed their thoughts。 She could still feel the dampness of that patch on her jeans clinging wetly to her thigh； despised herself for what she had let Andre do to her。 Now； suddenly； revenge and a chance to redeem her pride were there for the taking。 'If we cannot go up into the mountains why should we be denied our Walpurgisnacht/ecs/？'
A chorus of angry agreement that had Andre Schmid stepping back。 Then he was sent sprawling again by a blow that threatened to snap his spine； bringing a scream from his lips。 He had inadvertently made contact with that cursed door again！
As he convulsed and shrieked on the floor they were upon him； courage and strength in numbers； a force that even the high priest of the cannibal cult was powerless against。 His clothing was ripped； torn from his corpulent body in shreds； a booted foot slammed into his ribs； fists thudded down on him。
'Stop it。 Stop it in the name of。。。'
It was never discovered whose name he swore by as Jeanette's elbow took him in the mouth； throwing his head back； his lower lip splitting and oozing crimson。 He fought back blindly； kicking and punching； but within seconds his arms and legs were seized and he was hauled aloft。
'Stoke the fire somebody！' Now it was Michel's fury that dominated； a new driving force that had the hippies scurrying for coal and logs in the bunker by the stove。 'And he promised us meat tonight and meat we shall have！'
Schmid screamed but a hand was clapped over his bleeding mouth。 Grubby