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all veins showing blue against the whiteness of her wrists as she took the strain。 Perhaps she would not be strong enough？
The lid moved an inch or so； hinges creaking their protest at this disturbance。 Then； without warning； the lead top came up easily as though on powerful springs； banging right back against the altar with a metallic clang that echoed in the confined space。
Madeleine Gaufridi bent forward； peered inside。 And screamed！
Mother of God； it had happened！ Perhaps deep down she had not really convinced herself that it would； a childish fantasy that she was determined to live out until the very end； self…indoctrination； believing what she wanted to believe。 Building up hopes。 Now they had all e true！
There was no movement from the body in the coffin and to all outward appearances it was still a corpse； pallid flesh that gave off that familiar death odour。 Yet those eyes saw and understood； held their own expression of bewilderment； an awakening brain trying to e to terms with its surroundings。 Louis Nevillon was alive！
Madeleine staggered back； almost pulled the lid down to shut it in； imprison it inside four lead walls。 But she didn't； found herself cowering on the floor； watching in horrified anticipation of her lover's rebirth； expecting him to sit up at any moment； clamber out； e to claim her for his own again。
Nothing happened。 The candlelight did not seem so bright as before but she could not be sure。 Her skin pimpled with cold and fear； but she did not want to get dressed for this was how Louis would want to see her。 Perhaps the sight would arouse him。 She shuddered at the thought； tried to fight off the idea that she really did not want him to live again。 She did！ She did！
How long she cowered there she had no idea。 It might have been minutes or hours for suddenly this tiny chapel had bee a timeless void of terror。 Gradually her reasoning returned。 Maybe she had been mistaken； a trick of the candlelight in those dead eyes。 Yet body and head had joined themselves together so anything was possible。 She was being too conditioned to the thinking of conventional people。 Was not she Madeleine de Demandolx de la Palud who had corrupted the young nuns in the convent at Aix…en…Provence？ She had spread the word of Louis Nevillon； the Anti…Christ； and now his ways were racing across the continent like an unchecked forest fire。 Sabat； too； Quentin reborn so that his association with the Beast of France could resume。 And her own role？ That was the most frightening prospect of all because she did not know。
She sank down； lay full length on the stone floor； but it no longer seemed cold and hard。 Just a bed with clean linen； herself waiting。 For what？ Waiting for Louis Nevillon to e and take her！
Her whole body trembled but not because of the sudden drop in atmospheric temperature； a quivering that was warm and exciting。 And dominating！ Her hands seemed to move as though with a will of their own； obeying a deep instinct； her fingers smoothing downwards； their touch so sensuous that her breathing quickened。 She knew where they were going； that area of soft moist flesh that was crying out for relief。
One brief second of guilt； that time at the convent when she had gone up to the dormitory after mass because this same feeling had got the better of her and she had to appease it。 She had been so engrossed in the sensations which her manipulations brought her that she had not heard the door open。 One of the older nuns had entered； stared in shocked surprise at the sight of Madeleine's convulsing body。 Even then she hadn't been able to stop； had to finish and satisfy herself whatever the consequences。 She had resigned herself to expulsion from the convent； for surely Sister Camille would report her to the Mother Superior for defiling her own body。
Instead Sister Camille had slipped out of her own robes； revealed a shapely body that had been hidden for far too long beneath those capacious robes； and came to join her on the bed。 Madeleine was at her weakest； could not have resisted the other's advances even if she had wanted to。 Camille's touch was out of this world； kisses that burned like liquid fire； a flicking tongue that knew the places that brought the ultimate delight。 Two bodies entwining； inseparable limbs flaying the air； then shuddering to a trembling standstill； clutching at each other； kissing gently； sobbing their spent passion。 That was when Louis Nevillon's seed of corruption was sown。 It had germinated； blossomed； and in the end Madeleine had had to run。 And Sister Camille had continued spreading the word。
Madeleine's feelings were akin to that now； only more so； a mind…blowing maelstrom。 The candle flames seemed to have shrunk until they were no more than tiny twin glow…worms in the darkness but Madeleine did not care。 Sister Camille's stabbing tongue was taking her up to yet another orgasm。 She exploded； clutched wildly at the air； was spinning； then floating in space。 Falling； hands reaching out for her。
But they were not the soft hands of Sister Camille。 Instead they were rough and strong and so deathly cold； fingers that felt and probed at her body； icy breath fanning her face。
She went rigid； wanted to hold back but did not dare。 The touch； although abrasive and ungentle； was all too familiar。 A scream rose into her throat but it never made it as her vocal chords constricted。 She wanted to shrink away but her body was held there as though by invisible bonds。 It was impossible to disobey Louis Nevillon！
The candles had gone out。 Nothing but pitch darkness everywhere。 Perhaps it was best that way； for the sight of the one who was roughly fondling her could have snapped her mind。 She had waited longingly for this reunion and now that it had arrived it was the most terrible moment of her present life。 She wondered if he sensed it； prayed that he did not； for the Beast of France took a terrible revenge on any who rejected him。 She tried to tell herself that she loved him； that it was just the shock of the culmination of all those months of waiting。 But she knew that she lied。
She heard his heavy breathing； a rasping of air in stale lungs that had to learn how to inhale and expel again。 Limbs that were stiff and wooden after weeks of idleness in death。 Love…making had bee an unfamiliar exercise for Louis Nevillon and she must bear with him。
Madeleine tried to relax but it was impossible； terror rendered her tense and unyielding so that he had to force her legs wide。 His closeness was like an iceberg。 Yet if he lived then surely his heart must pump warm blood。 Or in this； his latest ing again； had he chosen to bee one of the living dead？
He took her forcefully； an animal…like mating； dragging her up and forcing her to kneel facing away from him； having to hold her upright by her hair or else she would have fallen to the floor。 Her strength had deserted her in this terrible hour and she was no more than a rag…doll to be manipulated by that body out of the coffin； to do his bidding in everything he chose。
A hardness deep in her； a freezing cold that numbed her very womb and destroyed all sensitivity； she was even rendered insensible to pain； for surely he was hurting her。 Her hair felt as though it was being torn from her head by the roots； sharp fingernails gouged unmercifully at her breasts。 She was aware of the slamming of his powerful thighs against her； pile…driving blows that vibrated every bone in her frame。
How much longer could it go on？ Madeleine didn't know and she didn't care。 Her brain was numbed； a kind of sedation that left her with a dim awareness of the awftilness of it all； but checked her rising terror。 Her beloved would not hurt her。 Only because she had been rendered insensitive to pain！ He was a monster； fully aroused； a lusting thing that had survived the guillotine and escaped the grave； not Louis who had e back to her before when he had defied death。
Would he never be spent？ Even as the thought crossed her mind she experienced a shooting coldness inside her。 Her head was jerked right back； threatening to dislocate her neck； and those icy fingers were squeezing mercilessly at her breasts。 She heard him now； a beast of the wild roaring at the peak of its lust； an unholy orgasm that blinded it to all else。 This； surely； was the rutting…stand of the undead。
She was thrown forward； pulled back again； cold kisses like iced suction pads on her neck and back； that frozen penetration seeming to swell inside her。 She tried to cry out but only succeeded in gasping hoarsely； a noise that might have been mistaken for an orgasmic grunt。 There was to be no let…up in this frenzied copulation that had begun over three centuries before and was destined to continue for eternity。 If he killed her then she would live again and he would be waiting for her。 If she fled then there was no hiding place in this world； or the one beyond the shadows。
She had a sensation of flying through the air and in that instant all feeling was restored to her body。 Covering her head with her arms； k