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But Sabat had already anticipated that wild swing。 Hugo was as strong as an ox and just as clumsy； a sweeping arc of honed steel that would have beheaded the intruder had it connected with its intended target。
Sabat ducked； caught the arm as it swung over his head； pulled it downwards then sharply upwards in almost the same movement； heard the loud crack as bone splintered； the thud of the falling cleaver。 Hugo was bellowing his rage and fear and had to be silenced！
Another blow with the flat of the same hand； a sideways chop that had solid muscle sinking into a fleshy throat； cutting off that bestial roar instantly。 Hugo jerked； tottered； his wide eyes glazing over； anger and fury evaporating with the advent of unconsciousness。
Sabat let him fall； a follow…up blow would merely have been a waste of energy。 The body hit the floor； splayed itself out； and then Sabat was picking up the fallen weapon； its blade dulled by the chopping of heavy bones。 But it would be sharp enough for this last time。。。 He raised it above his head； felt his fury pumping the adrenalin into his body。 This one was for all the unfortunates who had found their way into the dungeons of the Chateau of the Damned； the dead and the dying and those who might even now be freed。
The blade had enough weight； powered by Sabat's strength； to sever that grotesque head at one blow； a manual guillotine that jarred on the stone floor and then was cast aside。 Blood spurted from the neck； gushed on to the fire as though Hugo was making one last attempt to atone for his part in Nevillon's cannibalistic existence and spare the girl's body from the flames。
Sabat reached across； unhooked the spit and lowered it to the floor； mentally apologised to the singed naked corpse that he had not been in time。 Then he was turning away； going in search of the beast whose lair this place was； one who was already gathering about him his followers and whetting their appetite for the flesh of their own species。
Sabat flitted from room to room but there was no sign of the man he sought on the ground floor。 Each room was musty and empty； icy cold as though invisible evil lurked there。
He made for the stairs； knew that the Beast had to be somewhere up there。 Sabat's pulses were racing； a sudden fear that perhaps Hugo's scream had been loud enough to warn his master and that Nevillon had fled out into the dark night。 But no！ Even as he reached the landing Sabat heard sounds that came from behind a heavy ornate door on the right of the wide； uncarpeted landing。 He paused to listen； heavy breathing as though whoever it was exerted himself to the point of exhaustion； a creaking as though old and rusted springs were subjected to an unbelievable strain。
Sabat hit the door on the run with his shoulder； flung it back； grunted his surprise at the scene which greeted his narrowed eyes。 Of course； Nevillon had other uses for young women besides eating them！
With the snarl of an animal at bay Louis Nevillon came off the girl who had been lying spread beneath him on the old four…poster bed with its rotting hanging curtains； the sweat on his body glistening in the light cast by the single oil…lamp。 His lips drew back but in those eyes Sabat noted abject terror。 The hunted had been run to ground at last by the hunter he feared most； either on earth or in this hell of his own creation。
'Pierre de Lancre！' Nevillon backed off； started to slide a hand beneath the blankets where he kept a knife concealed； a habit which had not died in three hundred years。
Sabat leapt； his booted feet spring boarding him into the air； and in the same movement powering a vicious scissors…kick。 Fast； too fast for the man on the bed who tried to dodge but the blow took him in the face； crashed his head back against the stone wall behind him。 His eyes filmed just as Hugo's had done and he slumped down inert beside the dark…haired girl。
That was the moment when she turned her head； and in spite of the disfigurement； an ugly gash across her forehead as though at some time her skull had split and then joined together again； Sabat had no difficulty in recognising her。 It was incredible； impossible； but the evidence was there before him； an expression of pleading on her frightened； beautiful features。
'Madeleine！' he grunted。 'Madeleine Gaufridi； or de Demandolx de la Palud； or Marie Boulle； or whatever you are currently calling yourself！ But you cannot be here； even on the astral it is impossible。 I destroyed you with a bullet after Louis Nevillon had tried to 。。。'
'You gave me a bullet；' there was sadness in her expression as she fingered the scar。 'But it did not destroy me as I had hoped。 Nothing can destroy me whilst he lives。 He knew that； that was why he subjected me to the degradation of what he did； because he knew that afterwards he could summon me back here where we could be together in a terrible eternity； Oh； if only I could die and be at peace？
'So you shall before long； that I promise；' Sabat smiled。
'For there are those below like yourself who have suffered untold agonies and it is their right that they be given this monster to pass their own judgement upon！'
He stooped down； dragged the unconscious man up； some how got him across his shoulder。 Even the bined steel strength of Sabat and Pierre de Lancre was put to the test now； but somehow he made it down the stairs and across the hall to those dungeon steps。 Far below he heard them； shouts that were a mixture of euphoria and anger； demanding both freedom and revenge；
'Give us the Beast！ Give us the Beast of France？
Cheers in the shadowy light as they saw and hailed the return of Pierre de Lancre bearing his burden； their hungry mouths already watering for the flesh of Louis Nevillon。 For once they； also； would eat human meat and its rancid flavour would be sweet on their starved palates。 They recognised a sacrificial victim； strained at their iron bonds in a frenzied attempt to get at it。
Sabat dumped the unconscious Nevillon unceremoniously in the centre of the floor； turned to face his audience。
'You shall have your Beast； your tyrant；' he bowed mockingly； 'with the pliments of Pierre de Lancre！'
Then he moved swiftly down the lines of straining prisoners； unshackling them one after another； listening to their animal…like cries as they rushed and fell on their prey。 Only when skeletons and corpses remained in the manacles did Sabat turn to watch； a wry smile creasing his features as he permitted himself a few moments of sadistic delight。
The ultimate in barbarism…men and women had thrown themselves on to the inert form of Louis Nevillon； a milling mass as they clawed the flesh from the body with broken fingernails or sunk their teeth deep into any part that they could reach。 Just one scream of agonised fear came from the victim as he regained consciousness； but that was cut off as his throat was torn out and jetting crimson fluid sprayed the frenzied throng。 Now they were fighting； a tug…of…war that ended with a number of them sprawling in a heap when an arm was torn from its socket。
Somehow they had severed a leg； a group of human dogs fighting over a gigantic bone。 Raw flesh； but they were starving； a maddened mob that sent even the rats scurrying away into the shadows。。。
Sabat smiled his satisfaction and knew that upstairs Madeleine was finally at peace。 His job was done； it was time to go； for Walpurgisnacht had not yet ended and his own body lay in that remote chapel protected only by a frail pentagram。 And if that defence failed then he would remain here forever！
One last look。 A partly screened view of a bloody morass that was still being ravenously pulled apart and devoured and then he was a bat once more； winging an erratic course back across that deserted moonlit countryside in a world where time stood still for eternity。
Sabat stirred； then jerked into wakefulness as he remembered。 Fear had him sitting up； then relief came as he saw the grey light of a May morning shafting in through the broken door of the chapel。 He sighed； strangely refreshed as he always was after a trip on to the astral plane。
It was all over。 Well； almost。
He felt the need to hurry； to erase the final scars that remained now that Louis Nevillon was no more。 Working feverishly he smashed chairs； built up a pile of kindling wood to hide that pathetic charred body； dragged the corpse from the coffin and hoisted it on to the top of his proposed incineration like some macabre Guy Fawkes。
Just one match； that was all that was needed； Then he hurried out； did not look back for his work was done and he wished to see no more。
Back in the Daimler he glanced again in the mirror； breathed a sigh of relief when he saw that his hair was jet black again； the lines had smoothed away from his features and the ruthlessness in his expression was his own。 Pierre de Lancre had answered his call and now the witchfinder had returned whence he had e。
Sabat eased the c