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Sabat recognised them as surely as though he gazed upon the corpse of a close friend laid out on a mortician's slab； knew that these bones represented all that remained of William Gardiner！
The big man treated them with reverence； once bowing and kissing the feet。 Sabat stared； realised suddenly that this was Royston； clad in flowing robes of mauve that were decorated with inverted crucifixes； a blasphemous black bishop performing rites that had e from hell itself； seeking life eternal out of evil death。
The ceremony was only just beginning； the living paying homage to the dead； and in return asking for power beyond mortal ken。 Royston seemed oblivious of Sabat's presence； as did the naked throng which filed in through a hidden passage behind the altar； a vile assembly of old and young who believed that before long the ultimate in power would be theirs。 In silence they performed the utmost in obscene acts； senile and adolescents mouthing insane laughter； groping one another with lusting fingers and turning unhealthy fantasies into reality； all the time looking towards those ancient bones as though seeking the skeleton's approval。
Then everybody was still； glancing fearfully about them； the gloom gradually deepening until darkness hid everything from Sabat。 Now he relied on his ears and those extraordinary senses which detected near…silent movements and translated them into positive actions。 Somebody had been brought in via that same secret passage； one who was trussed and gagged so that only muscles could be flexed in futile frustration and terror。 Man or woman； young or old？ Oh God； Sabat could smell his own sweat； his own scent of fear because he had to know！ But he could not move； could not see； forced to suffer the agony of being led here and then denied the knowledge he craved。 For the rites of human sacrifice had already begun； the victim's tortured screams barely audible behind the heavy gag； blood vessels bursting as muscles strained beyond their limits。 But who； in the name of Jesus Christ； who was it！
Then came the clamouring of maniacal voices； exultant shouts of blasphemy； orgasmic shrieks； all dying away as a pounding of hooves and a bestial snorting dominated。 The stench was vile and suffocating； an odour of stables that would have defied even the efforts of Hercules to cleanse them。 Then a squelching sound that could have been either the munching of freshly…killed human flesh or that of an unholy mating between 。 。 。 Sabat was suddenly fleeing； blindly stumbling back up those steps in total darkness； flinging himself headlong on an unknown landscape where night had conquered day in the time that he had been away； where the air was fresh and sweet and he only smelled that vile putrefaction because it lingered on his own body。
Sobbing openly； beating the stony ground with clenched fists。 In the name of God who had been sacrificed in quest of the ultimate in evil； whose body had been mutilated while life still coursed through its veins so that William Gardiner could be granted eternal life in the body of Royston； the exiled houngan？ For God's sake； whose！
Sabat awoke with a jerk； felt his heart pounding madly and saw that it was already dusk。 His clothes clung damply to his body and for one awful moment he thought he could still smell that vile odour but it could have been his own sweat。 Oh Jesus God； that had been close； the closest ever。 The houngan's power was such that he could have killed him； claimed his soul had he wished to do so； but he had not because it suited some ulterior purpose。 For some devilish reason it benefited Royston to let him remain alive； to toy with him like a cat that has caught a mouse and is sure of its prey。
Normally Sabat had enough control to keep his astral close to his body when he slept if he wished to do so； particularly during the daylight hours。 But this time it had been lured away； lured into the future （near or distant？） for a ghastly preview of some forthing evil。 He almost screamed out aloud 'for Jesus Christ's sake whose was that body on the black altar？' But he didn't because he knew it was futile； that the future was deliberately screened from mortals except on rare occasions on the astral plane when one was permitted a brief glimpse of some forthing happening。
He glanced at Miranda。 She was sleeping soundly and it seemed a shame to wake her； to transport her back into this cruel world of evil and deadly peril。 But he must； for now there had to be a change of plans。 No longer could they await the ing of Royston and assassinate him like some third rate South American president。 He was too powerful and he was aware of their plans！
Again two courses of action were open to Sabat。 He could either flee with Miranda； drive from here while there was still time； or else they could hastily construct a pentagram； rely totally on its powers； and skulk behind locked doors until morning。 The latter was safer。 If。 they fled； Royston would pursue them and would have no difficulty in making a psychic attack wherever they were。
Here they stood a slim chance of survival。 It was still not fully dark； there was time to go down the road to the car； fetch his various impedimentia necessary for the construction of the pentagram and by nightfall they would be paratively safe。 Royston's power was unbelievable。 Obviously he was already drawing some of it from William Gardiner's remains； strong enough to lure Sabat's astral body away and give it a terrifying look into the future。 Oh Christ； if only he'd been able to recognise that sacrificial victim！
Softly Sabat shook Miranda awake。 Her eyes opened then clouded over as the terror filtered back； her whole body starting to tremble。
'It's 。 。 。 almost dark。' She glanced towards the window。 'He'll be here soon。 We must
I've decided on a change of plan。' Sabat tried to sound casual； as though it was something he had been thinking over while she had been asleep。 On no account must she even guess the terrible truth。 'It's too risky to kill Royston here； there could be all sorts of plications and we could both find ourselves in prison facing a murder charge。 What I propose doing is drawing a pentagram in this very room； which should keep us safe until morning； and then I think we'll return to London where I can fight him on home territory。' It sounded plausible and there was even a look of relief on Miranda's face at the realisation that they were not going to seek a confrontation with Royston after all。 'So before it gets properly dark I'll just pop down to the car and get the things I need。'
'AH right；' she nodded； 'but be as quick as you can please； Mark； because it's already starting to get dark 。 。 。 and I'm frightened。'
She let him out of the front door； closing it behind him。 It was darker than he had thought； the street lights already having e on； and on both sides of the road curtains were drawn across lighted windows。 A bank of cloud had drifted in during the afternoon and it was even now beginning to drizzle。 Sabat shuddered； tried to shake off the foreboding which had plagued him since he had awoken； and quickened his step。
It was a relief to see the Daimler still there at the kerbside。 It was further from Miranda's house than he had thought and he'd had one awful thought that it might have been stolen。 Christ； he had to calm these needless fears； get himself under control if he was to e through this night unscathed。 They had already begun to work on him。
His hand fumbled as he found the bunch of keys in his pocket。 Panic that he fought down； told himself he had to stay calm； in all probability Royston would not show up for hours yet。 He found the right key； it slipped down the ring just as he went to fit it in the lock； and he cursed beneath his breath。 Got it this time； it went in a little way then stuck as though there was some obstruction in the keyhole。
'Sod it； what the hell's the matter？ It's never played up like this before。' Sabat tugged； pushed； but the key would neither go right in nor e out； bending slightly under the strain。