gns.thedruidconnection-第9节

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which　you　can　help。　In　the　meantime；　however；　we　must　pass　this　night　unharmed　and　now　that　you　are　here　I　suggest　you　stay　rather　than　return　to　your　room　at　the　pub。　I　shall　rig　up　the　necessary　defences　to　give　us　both　protection　in　the　event　of　another　psychic　attack　such　as　I　underwent　earlier。'
　　
　　'I　know　your　reputation　too　well　to　argue；'　Kent　stood　up。　'Just　tell　me　what　I　have　to　do　and　。　。　。　'
　　
　　The　piercing　noise　came　at　them　out　of　the　night。　A　wail　that　escalated；　reached　its　peak　and　hung　reverberating　in　the　still　atmosphere。　Even　before　the　echoes　had　a　chance　to　die　away；　it　began　again。
　　
　　A　scream　of　sheer　mortal　terror　that　came　from　the　direction　of　St　Monica's　churchyard！
　　
　　
　　　CHAPTER　FIVE
　　　
　　SABAT　AND　Kent　moved　simultaneously　towards　the　door　and　hit　the　darkness　outside　fast　and　low；　trained　mandos　precipitated　into　battle　at　a　moment's　notice；　knowing　that　every　shadow　might　conceal　an　enemy；　a　foe　more　deadly　than　any　they　had　faced　during　their　SAS　days。
　　
　　The　night　air　still　vibrated　from　the　scream。　Slowly　it　died　away。　They　paused　alongside　the　privet　hedge；　waited；　but　it　did　not　e　again。
　　
　　'We'd　better　check　the　churchyard；'　Sabat　whispered。　His　mouth　was　dry　and　he　was　not　sufficiently　prepared　to　go　forth　into　battle　at　this　stage　against　an　unknown　enemy。　But　somewhere　somebody　was　in　deadly　peril。　It　might　already　be　too　late。　Sabat　and　Kent　had　no　choice。
　　
　　Sabat　sensed　the　coldness　again；　the　cloying　presence　of　evil　as　though　frozen　fingers　were　trying　to　grab　him　and　pull　him　back。　He　tried　to　ignore　it；　determined　not　to　be　overwhelmed　by　another　psychic　attack。　It　was　Kent　he　worried　about　most；　though。　A　cold　ruthless　fighter　but　the　journalist　was　not　familiar　with　the　forces　of　darkness。　It　was　him　they　would　try　to　pull　down　first。
　　
　　'Kent；'　Sabat　whispered　hoarsely。　'Keep　close　to　me；　don't　let　me　out　of　your　sight。　And　。　。　。　and　take　this。'
　　
　　Kent　stared　at　the　small　silver　object　which　was　thrust　into　his　hand。　That　tiny　crucifix　again；　the　one　Sabat　had　tried　to　test　him　with　earlier。　Oh　Christ；　was　Mark　Sabat　being　some　sort　of　religious　nut？
　　
　　'Don't　be　stupid；'　the　Fleet　Street　man's　tones　were　harsh　with　contempt　and　annoyance。　'There's　maybe　somebody　out　there　just　got　murdered。　We're　not　going　to　start　preaching　to　the　killer　or　anything　like　that　are　we；　Sabat？'
　　
　　'Be　warned；'　Sabat　thrust　his　face　close　to　his　panion's。　'We　are　not　up　against　mortal　enemies　tonight。　Whoever　our　adversaries　are　they　will　first　try　to　destroy　our　minds；　render　us　babbling　imbeciles　just　as　they　did　Vicar　Cleehopes　who　was　a　very　powerful　exorcist　himself。　We　must　fight　them　with　such　weapons　as　this；　have　faith　in　ourselves。'
　　
　　'Now　you　are　fucking　preaching；'　Kent　sneered；　tossing　the　crucifix　up　and　down　in　his　hand。　'Still；　I　suppose　it's　only　to　be　expected　from　one　who's　worn　a　bleeding　dog…collar　himself。　Okay；　if　you　want　it　that　way；　Sabat；　then　that's　okay　by　me　but　don't　get　any　ideas　about　converting　me。　You　know　damned　well　I'm　an　atheist。'
　　
　　Sabat　stiffened。　Had　the　dark　powers　already　begun　to　work　on　Kent；　alienating　him　against　Sabat？
　　
　　'I　know；'　Sabat　smiled。　'You're　an　atheist；　Kent。　You　don't　believe　in　God　so　therefore　how　can　you　believe　in　them。'
　　
　　The　journalist　checked　an　angry　retort　and　an　expression　of　bewilderment　flooded　his　rugged　features　in　the　faint　moonlight。　'You're　right；　Sabat；'　he　said；　as　though　he　had　to　force　the　words　out。　'I　don't　believe　in　them。　They're　a　load　of　crap；　superstition　put　about　by　these　ignorant　villagers　to　scare　the　life　out　of　everybody。'

　　
　　Sabat　stretched　out　his　hand；　took　the　crucifix　back　and　dropped　it　into　his　pocket。　The　wind　appeared　to　strengthen　suddenly　from　a　gentle　breeze　to　a　tearing　gale；　buffeted　them；　then　died　down　as　quickly　as　it　had　begun。　A　show　of　anger　by　the　evil　around　them；　a　temporary　setback　for　the　lurking　powers　because　Sabat　had　produced　an　unexpected　ace　out　of　his　occult　pack。　It　had　worked　this　time　but　it　might　not　again。
　　
　　'Let's　move；'　Sabat　took　the　lead；　knew　that　the　other　followed　him。　He　tried　not　to　think　what　they　might　e　up　against　beyond　the　lychgate　which　stood　silhouetted　against　the　night　sky　some　twenty　yards　ahead　of　them。　The　awful　possibilities　were　innumerable。
　　
　　'I　can　smell　smoke；'　Kent　breathed。　'Christ；　what　a　bloody　awful　stink！'
　　
　　Sabat　wrinkled　his　nostrils。　There　was　certainly　a　pungent　aroma　being　wafted　on　the　night　breeze；　like　a　smouldering　garden　bonfire；　only　more　cloying。　He　sniffed　the　air　in　the　manner　of　a　hunting　beast　but　failed　to　recognise　the　smell　other　than　that　of　burning。　His　thoughts　flipped　briefly　to　the　incinerated　body　of　the　Reverend　Philip　Owen　and　further　back　in　time　to　one　Dr　William　Price。　They　were　not　pleasant　thoughts。
　　
　　The　churchyard　was　in　total　silence　as　they　eased　through　the　lychgate。　Even　that　gentle　breeze　seemed　to　have　dropped　and　a　patch　of　cloud　scudded　across　the　face　of　the　moon　as　though　the　heavens　feared　to　look　down　upon　this　place。　Kent　was　close　to　Sabat　as　they　awaited　the　re…emergence　of　the　moon。
　　
　　Slowly；　reluctantly；　the　pale　silvery　light　flooded　the　scene　again；　showed　rows　of　untended　graves；　the　grass　roughly　mown　between　them　in　a　maze　of　pathways。　A　forgotten　place　where　people　feared　to　tread。
　　
　　The　smoke　was　thicker；　more　pungent　now；　making　their　eyes　smart。　Sabat　coughed；　pointed　across　to　the　far　corner　of　the　cemetery；　a　section　that　was　hidden　in　the　shadows　cast　by　a　clump　of　towering　yew　trees。　'That's　where　the　smoke's　ing　from；'　he　whispered。　'Let's　make　our　way　across　there。'
　　
　　The　grass　beneath　their　feet　was　springy；　their　progress　silent。　Moving　slowly；　trying　to　scan　every　patch　of　shadow　around　them　through　eyes　streaming　from　the　smoke；　making　it　impossible　to　see　anything。　Which　was　why　they　were　within　three　or　four　yards　of　the　figure　beneath　the　foremost　yew　tree　before　they　saw　it！
　　
　　'Jesus　wept！'　Kent　clutched　Sabat's　arm；　instinctively　trying　to　tug　him　back。　'What　the　fuck　is　it？'
　　
　　Sabat　felt　his　body　tense；　go　cold　as　an　icy　trickle　ran　up　his　spine　and　spread　out　into　his　scalp。　He　strained　his　smarting　eyes；　made　out　the　shape　of　a　woman　in　long　tattered　robes。　At　least　he　thought　it　was　a　woman。　。　。　。
　　
　　Small　and　frail；　almost　childlike；　barely　five　feet　tall。　Long　matted　hair　that　straggled　down　over　revolting　bulb　like　breasts；　cancerous　growths　protruding　from　vents　in　the　soiled　garments。　Barefoot；　toenails　broken　and　curling　over　like　the　talons　of　some　horrific　bird　of　prey。　Skeletal　waste　arms；　shaking　finger　pointed　accusingly　at　the　intruders　in　this　place　of　silence　and　death。　An　eddy　of　smoke　hid　her　for　a　few　seconds　as　though　it　sought　to　spare　these　two　humans　from　a　sane　world　the　sight　of　this　revolting　creature。
　　
　　And　when　the　smoke　had　cleared；　Sabat　and　Kent　saw　that　she　had　stepped　forward　out　of　the　shadows　into　a　patch　of　moonlight　where　every　detail　of　her　grotesque　face　was　displayed。
　　
　　'Jesus　God；　it　isn't　possible！'　Kent　stepped　back　instinctively；　dragging　Sabat　with　him。
　　
　　A　noise；　a　cackle　of　manic　laughter　broke　the　stillness。　This　creature　from　the　shadows　in　human　form　was　manding　them　to　look　upon　her；　to　feast　their　eyes　upon　the　rotting　flesh　on　her　body；　to　breathe　in　the　stench　of　putrefaction　which　even　the　billowing　smoke　could　not　mask。　Eye　sockets；　nothing　more；　but　she　seemed　to　see　out　of　the　sunken　cavities；　tiny　black　pits　of　hate　directed　at　the　two　men。　Twin　nostrils　that　bubbled　mucus；　a　toothless　mouth…slit　widening　into　a　grimace。　A　thing　that　had　e　from　beyond　the　grave！
　　
　　Sabat　sensed　the　power　emanating　from　this　macabre　living　entity；　a　force　that　hit　him　with　sheer　psychic　power　like　that　icy　wind　getting　up　again　and　bringing　with　it　stifling　acrid　smoke　that　had　him　instinctively　throwing　up　his　hands　to　ward　it　off。
　　
　　'Sabat；　you　came　here　at　your　own　peril　and　those　who　trespass　in　the　domain　of　the　Oke　Priests　must　pay　the　penalty。　You　shall　not　leave　here！　I　e　to　take　you　with　me　to　the　Lupercal　Cave！'
　　
　　Rasping　tones　that　scraped　on　Mark　Sabat's　bemused　brain　with　a　stupefying　effect。　A　muzziness　that　was　beginning　to　cloud　his　thinking；　numbing　his　fear。　A　surrendering　of　his　willpower　that　was　only　saved　by　his　panion；　Kent　the　journalist；　the　atheist。
　　
　　'It's　some　kind　of　trick！'　Kent's　scream　was　bordering　on　hysteria。　'That　old　bag's　dressed　up　to　scare　the　hell　out　of　us。　Get　her；　Sabat！　Teach　the　bitch　a　lesson！'
　　
　　The　grotesque　apparition　checked；　recoiled　as　though　she　had　been　struck　a　physical　blow；　the　mouth　widening　into　an　expression　of　shock　and　terror。　And　in　that　same　instant　Sabat　felt　his　inner　mechanism　click　back　into　gear　like　a　car　that　has　faltered　and　then　picked　up　to　full　speed。　One　moment　he　was　on　the　defensive；　now　he　was　on　the　offensive。
　　
　　Even　as　he　leaped　forward　that　acrid　smoke　billowed　and　came　to　the　aid　of　the　unknown　wretched　figure；　taking　him　full　in　the　face；　f