gns.thegraveyardvultures-第30节

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latter。　He　grinned　to　himself；　suddenly　aware　that　planning　Spode's　death　had　given　him　an　erection。　It　was　funny　how　matters　irrelevant　to　sex　sometimes　turned　him　on；　maybe　he'd　orgasm　as　he　struck　the　death　blow；　the　greatest　thrill　of　his　life。
　　
　　The　church　clock　struck　6。30　as　Andy　let　himself　out　of　the　house。　His　parents　had　gone　to　meet　the　coach　over　an　hour　ago　and　with　luck　he'd　be　back　home　before　they　returned　from　their　outing。　Woodpigeons　cooed　softly　in　the　foliage　of　the　tall　poplars　that　hid　all　but　the　church　steeple。　So　tranquil；　it　couldn't　be　happening。　But　it　was！
　　
　　He　entered　the　church；　stood　staring　down　the　aisle。　Three　of　the　coven　were　already　seated　in　the　front　pew；　turning　and　seeing　him　but　not　acknowledging　him。　That　made　him　angry　but　they'd　soon　change　their　views　towards　him。　When　the　vicar　was　kicking　his　death　throes　with　Andy's　scout　knife　protruding　from　his　belly　they'd　hail　Andy　Drew　as　their　champion；　their　hero。　It　was　a　pity　he'd　never　be　able　to　tell　his　parents　about　it。
　　
　　He　took　his　place　in　the　second　pew；　checked　for　the　hundredth　time　that　the　knife　rested　fortably　in　his　sleeve；　that　it　would　fall　easily　when　the　time　was　right。　He　was　sweating　again；　could　smell　his　own　B。O。
　　
　　By　ten　minutes　to　seven　the　whole　coven　were　seated　in　their　places。　Andy　wondered　idly　what　would　happen　if　a　stranger　showed　up　but　Spode　was　cunning　enough　to　get　out　of　that　one。　He'd　probably　turn　on　that　hidden　charm；　explain　that　it　was　a　'special'　service　in　aid　of　something…or…other　and　they　couldn't　stay；　much　as　he　would　like　them　to；　but　if　they'd　care　to　attend　matins　on　Sunday　morning　。。　。　the　glib　bastard！
　　
　　The　Reverend　Royston　Spode　entered　the　church　just　as　the　clock　was　chiming　seven；　locked　the　doors　behind　him。　Andy　glanced　at　him　out　of　the　corner　of　his　eye；　the　strain　was　telling　on　the　bugger；　those　jowled　features　pale　and　lined。　Perhaps　he　was　turning　chicken。　But　Andy　would　kill　him　just　the　same　because　suddenly　there　was　nothing　more　he　wanted　to　do　than　just　that。　And　he'd　got　an　erection　again。　It　was　going　to　be　the　most　exciting　act　of　his　life。
　　
　　Spode　approached　the　altar；　removed　the　cloth；　replaced　it　with　a　black　one　which　was　folded　nearby；　changed　the　white　candles　for　sinister　black　ones。　Then　with　one　deft　movement　he　upturned　the　silver　crucifix；　wedged　it　firmly　in　an　inverted　position。　A　low　murmur　of　approval　came　from　the　congregation。　Andy　Drew　was　sweating　heavily　again；　his　armpits　giving　off　a…　sour　smell。　He　checked　the　knife；　it　wouldn't　be　long　now。　A　terrible　revulsion　at　these　blasphemous　preparations　had　him　wanting　to　vomit。　He'd　had　a　church　upbringing；　never　dreamed　he'd　stoop　to　such　a　level。　He　hadn't　fully　realised　until　now　what　it　all　meant。　He　hadn't　intended　to　deny　Christ；　it　made　him　feel　sick。
　　
　　The　Reverend　Spode's　nasal　tones　vibrated　low　and　clear　in　a　sing…song　recitation：
　　
　　'Thou　shalt　covet　thy　neighbour's　wife　。　。　。　thou　shalt　steal。。。　thou　shalt　kill
　　
　　Thou　shalt　kill。　That　was　one　Satanic　mandment　Andy　Drew　meant　to　obey　to　the　very　letter！
　　
　　'This　is　her　flesh；　cut　from　her　body　whilst　she　still　lived　。。。　her　blood　。　。。　'　Spode's　hands　were　pressed　over　a　plate　and　chalice；　his　back　to　the　watchers。　The　desecration；　the　absolute　abomination。　'e　。。。　eat。。。　drink　。。。'
　　
　　The　others　were　filing　up　to　the　altar　rail；　kneeling。　Andy　joined　the　queue；　his　legs　so　weak　that　it　was　a　relief　to　fling　himself　down　into　a　kneeling　position；　hold　on　to　the　wooden　rail　to　support　himself。　For　one　awful　moment　he　thought　he　was　going　to　faint　like　he'd　done　at　his　first　munion；　here　in　this　very　church；　but　the　dizziness　passed。　He　checked　the　knife　again。　Thou　shall　kill！
　　
　　Spode　was　administering　his　grisly　offerings　from　the　far　end　of　the　line；　Andy　would　be　the　last　to　receive　them。　A　brief　silence；　then　he　heard　a　slurping；　munching　sound；　almost　threw　up。　Raw　human　meat　and　thick　blood。　Nobody　spewed　as　he　thought　they　might。　In　fact　they　seemed　to　be　relishing　their　First　Supper。
　　
　　Spode　moved　slowly；　deliberately　along　his　followers；　his　thick　white　fingers　pressing　chunks　of　meat　into　their　upturned　open　mouths；　tipping　the　chalice　so　that　they　drank　their　fill。　There　was　another　vessel　standing　on　the　altar　ready　to　replenish　the　one　he　was　using；　for　this　was　intended　as　a　banquet　for　the　true　believers　in　the　Left　Hand　Path。
　　
　　Andy　Drew　glanced　sideways　out　of　the　corner　of　his　eye。　A　girl　with　mousey…coloured　hair　next　to　him　sucked　a　lump　of　meat　into　her　mouth；　then　drank　and　chewed　noisily　at　the　same　time；　her　slender　fingers　seeming　reluctant　to　release　the　stem　of　the　cup。　Sheer　depraved　greed。　Andy　knew　her；　her　family　were　newers　to　the　village；　city　people　who　had　attempted　to　live　out　their　fantasy　of　'getting　away　from　it　all'　and　hadn't　made　a　very　good　job　of　it。　Her　husband；　on　the　other　side　of　her；　was　a　layabout　drawing　social　security。　Now　they　had　resorted　to　this　in　their　search　for　a　better　life。
　　
　　Take　eat。。。　her　flesh　。。。　her　blood　。　。　。　'
　　
　　Andy　felt　the　dizziness　ing　back；　fought　against　it　desperately；　saw　Spode's　fingers　with　a　chunk　of　meat　approaching　his　mouth。　Bile　rose　into　the　youth's　throat；　he　pressed　his　tips　tightly。　Heaved。　Then　he　remembered　the　knife；　panicked。　It　started　to　slide　down　the　inside　of　his　sleeve；　he　grasped　the　hilt；　positioned　it。
　　
　　'Take　。　。　。　eat'　Annoyance；　Spode　trying　to　cram　the　flesh　into　Andy's　mouth；　forcing　it　between　the　resisting　lips。　'Eat！'
　　
　　Andy　Drew　had　the　knife　how　he　wanted　it；　the　blade　concealed　in　his　closed　hand　until　the　thrust　had　begun。　His　elbow　went　back；　tensed　like　a　bowstring；　and　at　that　very　second　the　sensation　of　faintness　flooded　back　over　him；　a　red…black　shimmering　before　his　eyes。　Spode　seemed　to　be　whirling；　spinning　away　from　him。
　　
　　Desperately　Andy　lunged；　anticipated　the　impact；　the　jarring　of　his　own　arm　right　up　to　his　shoulder　as　the　weapon　sliced　through　corpulent　flesh　and　grated　on　bone。　But　his　wild　swing　met　with　no　obstruction；　just　a　rush　of　air　and　then　he　was　sprawled　over　the　rail；　the　threatened　vomit　spouting　from　his　mouth；　the　murky　haze　closing　in　like　black　smog；　shutting　everything　else　out。　He　did　not　even　hear　the　knife　clatter　on　to　the　marble　floor。
　　
　　Royston　Spode　showed　but　the　faintest　surprise。　There　was　neither　fear　nor　fury　in　his　expression　as　he　kicked　the　fallen　knife　away　and　pushed　the　unconscious　youth　so　that　he　slid　down　on　to　the　carpeted　floor。
　　
　　'Our　Master　will　have　a　double　offering　tonight；'　his　voice　was　flat。　'Let　us　deal　with　this　traitor　first；　though；　for　fear　that　his　unworthy　blood　should　offend　at　our　finest　hour。'
　　
　　Spode's　strength　was　unbelievable　except　to　those　who　had　seen　him　exert　it　to　the　full　before。　His　bulk　was　deceptive　as　he　vaulted　the　rail；　hoisted　the　inert　form　of　Andy　Drew　up　to　a　sitting　position；　then　stalked　down　the　aisle；　the　others　following　in　single　file；　a　bizarre　procession　that　wound　its　way　behind　the　church　and　through　the　thick　undergrowth　until　it　reached　the　entrance　to　the　old　crypt。
　　
　　The　Reverend　Royston　Spode　paused　once；　glanced　skywards；　saw　that　the　sun　was　now　a　deep　red　ball　in　the　western　sky；　already　slipping　out　of　sight　behind　the　tall　poplars。
　　
　　'We　do　not　have　much　time；'　he　muttered　to　nobody　in　particular。　'We　must　hurry　for　we　have　to　return　to　the　church　to　finish　our　munion　with　the　Master　before　we　can　attempt　the　sacred　rites　in　our　temple。'
　　
　　Spode　lit　the　candles　in　the　crypt；　gave　a　short　inaudible　sigh　of　relief　when　he　saw　that　Sabat　still　lay　motionless　before　the　altar。　If　Sabat's　astral　was　nearby　watching　then　so　much　the　better。　He　chuckled。　But　the　astral　was　harmless。　It　would　return　shortly　and　be　dealt　with　accordingly。　It　could　not　escape。
　　
　　Andy　Drew's　unconscious　body　was　propped　alongside　Sabat　and　the　skeleton　of　William　Gardiner。　Spode　reached　up　on　to　a　shelf；　found　the　sacrificial　weapon；　a　curved　knife　with　a　jewelled　hilt；　the　blade　sharp　yet　stained　a　dark　brown　with　a　substance　that　could　have　been　mistaken　for　rust　at　a　cursory　glance；　closer　inspection　would　confirm　that　it　was　dried　blood。
　　
　　Drew's　head　lolled　sideways；　eyes　closed；　blissfully　unaware　of　the　fate　which　awaited　him。　Spode　did　not　trouble　to　remove　any　of　the　clothing；　time　was　at　a　premium。　The　knife　poised；　he　muttered　a　low　incantation；　then　stabbed　fiercely。
　　
　　The　blade　went　deep；　almost　up　to　the　hilt　just　below　Andy　Drew's　navel；　slicing　garments　and　flesh　with　the　ease　of　a　butcher's　cleaver。　It　was　not　withdrawn；　but　jerked　upwards　with　a　tearing　sound；　ploughing　a　deep　gash　in　one　movement　up　to　the　throat。　The　jugular　vein　was　spurting　blood　which　splashed　on　the　uneven　floor　like　a　burst　mains；　but　Spode　ignored　it。　The　knife　retraced　its　original　course　going　lower　this　time；　grinding　the　pubic　bone；　then　sideways；　first　to　the　left；　then　to　the　right。　Only　then　was　it　pulled　clear；　splattering　crimson　droplets　as　it　was　returned　to　the　shelf　above。
　　
　　Royston　Spode