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t we shall have！'
Schmid screamed but a hand was clapped over his bleeding mouth。 Grubby female fingers； which might have been sensuous otherwise； slid through the throng of bodies that supported him； closed over soft and tender flesh and squeezed viciously。 Andre Schmid writhed in pain and the hand was withdrawn。 Jeanette felt that that made up for what he had done to her earlier。 She wished she had a knife handy。
The oven door was thrown open to reveal a much larger cubicle than the one at the chapel； which was fortunate because Andre； in spite of his shortness； had a huge girth。 He was resisting madly now； biting at the fingers which attempted to silence his screams； shrieking as his flesh came into contact with the hot iron。
Somehow； using brute force； booted feet as levers； they got him into the oven； slammed the door and muffled his shrieks。 Coal and slack clinked and showered into the firebox； roared into flame as the draught was admitted。 The temperature gauge on the door read 200。 Already the needle was beginning to move upwards。
They stood back； a grim silent assembly； listening to the thudding of scorching bare fists and feet vibrating the oven door； cursings that were being more incoherent by the second。
'How long？' Michel was the first to speak； turning to Jeanette。 'How long will he take to die and to cook？'
'He'll be dead in a few minutes；' she smiled and added； 'unfortunately。 But it will be several hours before he is edible。'
Michel's eyes gleamed as he began to unfasten the buttons on his shirt； sliding his denims down so that his arousement sprang into view； an actor with an audience； urging their participation。
Suddenly their early lethargy was forgotten。 Andre Schmid's thumpings were growing weaker and fainter and now the coven was theirs。 They could enjoy themselves whilst their Walpurgisnacht banquet roasted to perfection。
Jeanette peeled off those damp jeans； flung them into a corner of the room。 Others followed them； faces alight with a lust that was no longer controlled by the man who at this very moment was beginning to give off an odour of singeing； appetising meat。
The night was theirs to enjoy in the way they knew best。
Sabat slipped his revolver back into its holster and smiled smugly to himself in the darkness。 It took a determined conscious effort to drag his thoughts away from what was happening inside the mune kitchen。 He was fully aroused； envied those people their unrestricted pleasures。 But there was work to be done this night and time was running out。
He walked quickly down the road and turned into an adjoining street at the bottom。 Parked cars lined each kerb； he had a choice of vehicles。
He picked a majestic silent Daimler because it was only fitting that Sabat should drive to his ultimate triumph in the car he loved best。 Also； he was familiar with that make of vehicle and had no trouble in opening the door and starting the powerful engine without the use of keys。
He slid behind the wheel； listened to the smooth； scarcely audible tick…over and was surprised how relaxed he felt。 And somewhere he heard those final words of Pierre de Lancre again。 〃If you ever have need of me do not hesitate to call me。 Do that and Pierre de Lancre will e； that I promise。〃
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
MADELEINE GAUFRIDI was glad when Sabat had gone。 For some reason she experienced a sense of guilt in his presence； an inexplicable sense of infidelity towards the man who lay in the lead coffin beneath the altar。 Louis would not have objected to her copulating with Sabat； she felt sure of that。 Had he not openly confessed to obtaining erotic delight from the thought of her giving herself to other men？ Had he not on one occasion lured a handsome adolescent to their garret in Paris for that sole purpose？ The memory of that night； shortly before he had sent her to the convent at Aix…en…Provence to spread his word； had her flesh tingling。
Louis had been hiding in the curtained alcove watching throughout。 The boy was eager but nervous； and when they were both naked it had needed a considerable effort on Madeleine's part to arouse him。 Then he had had a premature ejaculation whilst she was playing with him and she had had to start all over again。 Inexperienced youth did not excite Madeleine； but she knew it aroused her beloved and the thought of what he would undoubtedly be doing to himself in his role as voyeur had resulted in an unprecedented performance on her own part。 And only when her young partner's limpness was finally beyond recall had she let him get dressed and leave。
Louis liked to be made jealous； but that same jealousy could also be very dangerous。 Some days later she had read in a newspaper that the youth had been found along the left bank of the Seine with his throat cut。 She had not mentioned it to Louis and he had never referred to the incident； but there was no possible doubt in her mind。 Sabat might suffer a similar fate in due course when her lover came back from the dead。 She had mixed feelings about the whole business。
She rested for most of the day； lying naked on those same blankets which were still damp with Sabat's seed； occasionally raising her head and glancing towards the coffin。 Louis would not e yet； though； not for several hours。 But he would rise； there was no doubt about that。 It was a pity that Sabat had to return but that could not be helped。 She dared not face this Walpurgisnacht； the most important of all her lives； alone。 And if Louis Nevillon's wrath had been incurred by her unfaithfulness then Sabat would be here to answer for herself。
Towards evening she arose and began her preparations。 Those black cloths had to be draped back on the altar； new candles fitted into their holders in readiness。 Her long black dress； the one she always wore for sabbaths； was draped over one of the chairs。 She would put the garment on shortly but in the meantime she was enjoying her nudity。 As though Louis could see her。
The thought brought exciting sensations back to her body； ones that had never really left her since the previous night。 Subconsciously her fingers smoothed sensuously down her thighs； trespassed in between。 Her breathing quickened。
A faint rustling。 Perhaps it was a draught wafting one of the tapestries。 Yet。。。 she stiffened； the noise seemed to e from within that coffin。 Her eyes flickered； mingled hope and fear； her breathing heavier so that her breasts rose and fell； noticing things which previously she had taken for granted。 The stale smell of cooked meat and a sickly cloying stench that reminded her of iron。 The aroma of death but blending with putrefaction。 No； the coffin was airtight and anyway； Louis Nevillon's flesh was perfectly preserved。
She trembled； found some matches and lit the candles。 The wicks were stubborn； took time to ignite； the flames caught in those penetrating draughts and casting inexplicable shadows on the walls； things that had no definite shape and yet were all the more fearsome for that。
Madeleine was uneasy。 But her dearest one would not harm her even if he arose now。 She stared at the coffin； an oblong black inanimate object； half expected to see the lid beginning to rise up。 It didn't
She wondered how long Sabat would be away。 Possibly he was waiting for nightfall before dealing with Andre and the hippies。 A glance at the windows showed her that it was nearly dark now。 Sabat might be gone for several hours yet She did not need him though； she had hours。 It was silly of her to be nervous in the first place。
Her body was goose pimpling。 The atmosphere seemed to have bee a lot colder。 Perhaps she ought to put on her dress。
Even as she was moving towards it she changed her mind。 No； she would remain naked because that was how Louis would like to see her when he first set eyes on her again。 She would make him want her； give herself to him right away if that was his wish。 Everything would be as it always had been。
A sudden whim； one that frightened her。 Suppose she just lifted the coffin lid； had a quick peep in at her beloved。 He wouldn't mind。 She wondered what was happening to him； his head had already rejoined itself to his body so surely some form of life was beginning hi the flesh and bones。 Like a tree graft； a steady progress。
She stepped up to the coffin； grasped the edges of the lid with her fingers。 God； it was cold； as though it was constructed of sheets of black ice。 She was shivering。 Perhaps she ought not to look； it was an imposition on the privacy of his rebirth。
Yet her curiosity was aroused； bined with an insatiable desire to gaze once more upon those fine features； maybe to press her own lips briefly against his。 Wake soon； my darling； for I need you！ Fear gripped her again； had her wanting to back away and wait until Sabat arrived。 But she didn't； even now her muscles were bulging as though they had a will of their own； her small veins showing blue against the whiteness of her wrists as she took the strain。 Perhaps she would