gns.thegraveyardvultures-第9节

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he　had　the　difficult　task　of　attempting　to　project　his　astral　body　to　a　particular　destination；　a　sort　of　directive　to　be　issued　to　his　subconscious。　To　have　embarked　upon　a　haphazard　exploration　of　the　first　plane　would　have　been　both　useless　and　dangerous。
　　
　　There　was　nothing　to　be　gained　by　conducting　a　vigil　at　the　churchyard；　the　police　were　too　active　at　present　for　the　necromancers　to　risk　returning　there　just　yet。
　　
　　Miranda！　Sabat　decided　upon　this　course　of　action　almost　instantaneously。　It　surprised　him　and　he　wondered　if　perhaps　his　sexual　desire　was　taking　over　again。　A　moment's　reflection　and　he　knew　it　wasn't。　There　was　something　about　her　that　had　attracted　his　attention　earlier；　almost　an　intuition　which　he　couldn't　explain。　And　in　the　past　he　had　followed　more　slender　hunches　than　this　one　and　e　up　with　the　right　answer；　a　kind　of　ultra…perception；　a　blind　faith　in　his　own　holy　powers。
　　
　　Sleep　came　slowly　but　eventually　he　felt　himself　slipping　away　from　his　physical　body；　gazing　down　on　it　from　aloft；　experiencing　the　same　fear　he　always　felt　when　he　left　his　earthly　form；　that　the　evil　powers　might　somehow　stop　him　returning。　A　lot　of　people　had　died　that　way；　death　attributed　to　natural　causes。　There　had　been　a　lot　of　nonsense　talked　and　written　in　recent　years　about　people　dying　and　recalling　how　their　astrals　had　been　drawn　back　into　their　bodies；　mostly　it　was　just　a　kind　of　a　in　which　they　became　aware　that　they　actually　had　an　astral　body。　They　had　not　really　died　at　all。
　　
　　Sabat　was　floating　above　the　village；　now　wearing　dark　flowing　robes。　A　naked　man　passed　him；　striking　upwards；　someone　who　had　recently　died　and　had　not　yet　learned　the　art　of　clothing　himself。　Sabat　wondered　about　changing　his　form；　maybe　an　owl　or　a　bat　but　it　should　not　be　necessary　yet；　the　only　person　who　knew　him　was　Quentin　and　as　Quentin　was　himself　there　was　no　point。
　　
　　The　village　slept　under　a　mantle　of　starlight；　rooftops　glinting　faintly。　The　church　looked　almost　a　ruin　from　this　angle；　gaping　holes　in　the　roof　where　the　slates　had　blown　off　and　the　weathercock　on　the　steeple　hanging　precariously　as　though　it　might　fall　off　at　any　moment。　He　paused；　scanned　the　overgrown　cemetery。　A　mass　of　dark　shadow　that　could　have　hidden　anything　so　he　went　down　lower。　But　there　was　nothing　there；　not　even　a　watching；　hidden　policeman。
　　
　　Up　again；　a　feeling　of　exhilaration　which　he　checked　with　a　reminder　of　the　importance　of　vigilance。　The　dark　powers　surely　knew　by　now　that　he　was　abroad。　He　left　the　old　village　behind；　floated　on　to　where　the　big　housing　estates　began。　The　landlord　at　the　'Dun　Cow*　had　described　earlier　where　Miranda　lived　with　a　knowing　wink　and　a　half…smile。　'You'll　be　unlikely　to　find　her　at　home　in　the　evenings；　sir；'　Herbert　Walley　had　said。　'Unless　of　course　she's　reason　to　go　back　home。　Most　of　the　time　she's　here　in　the　bar　and　if　you　want　to　see　her　。。。　'
　　
　　'I　don't；'　Sabat　had　smiled。　'I　was　just　curious；　that's　all。'
　　
　　Walley　had　grinned　but　refrained　from　passing　further　ment。　Obviously　he　was　used　to　receiving　enquiries　about　Miranda；
　　
　　Every　house　looked　the　same；　square　or　oblong　boxes；　detached　or　semi…detached；　all　with　minute　open…plan　gardens；　the　planners　determined　to　cram　as　many　as　possible　into　every　square　acre。　Sabat　glided　over　avenues　and　crescents；　through　a　maze　of　red　London　brick；　until　finally　he　found　the　house　he　was　seeking　and　passed　inside。
　　
　　It　was　a　small；　single…person　type　dwelling　with　a　tiny　entrance　hall　leading　off　into　an　L…shaped　kitchen…cum…dining…room。　Untidy；　a　smell　of　stale　cooking　and　items　of　unwashed　clothing　draped　over　chairs。　Sabat　checked；　his　acute　astral　senses　picking　up　a　sound；　a　low　moan　that　appeared　to　be　rising　to　a　crescendo。　It　was　ing　from　upstairs；　and　it　sounded　as　though　somebody　was　in　pain。
　　
　　It　had　never　occurred　to　him　that　Miranda　might　not　be　alone；　the　darkened　house　leading　him　to　believe　that　she　was　either　still　out　or　else　asleep　in　bed。　He　halted　in　the　bedroom　doorway　and　stared　in　amazement　at　the　scene　which　greeted　him　by　the　light　of　a　low…watt　table　lamp。　Miranda　was　in　bed　all　right；　but　she　certainly　wasn't　alone　and　neither　was　she　in　pain。　In　fact　she　was　in　the　throes　of　physical　ecstasy；　copulating　wildly　and　apparently　on　the　brink　of　a　climax。
　　
　　Her　supple　body　gyrated　as　she　straddled　the　man　beneath　her；　her　head　hung　forward　so　that　her　long　auburn　hair　spilled　down　and　screened　her　small　breasts；　two　pink　and　firm　nipples　protruding　through　the　strands。　Loud　gasps　as　she　appeared　to　struggle　for　breath；　arms　wind…milling　wildly。
　　
　　Sabat's　gaze　switched　to　the　man　lying　beneath　her。　He　was　big；　only　his　height　preventing　him　from　being　excessively　fat。　Even　so；　surplus　flesh　bulged　and　rippled　as　Miranda　pressed　down　on　him。　Perspiration　glistened　on　his　high　brow　and　a　receding　hairline　was　thinning　a　path　that　would　eventually　result　in　a　bald　crown。　Small；　close…set　eyes　flickered　open　from　time　to　time　and　the　thin；　bloodless　lips　were　pursed　as　he；　too；　delighted　in　this　encounter。
　　
　　Strangely；　Sabat　felt　no　sense　of　arousement；　he　rarely　did　on　the　astral　where　one　became　a　detached　spectator　to　the　actions　of　mortal　bodies。　Totally　invisible；　he　had　no　fear　of　being　detected　as　he　stepped　into　the　room。
　　
　　Miranda　and　her　lover　were　convulsing　wildly；　their　united　quivering　bodies　causing　the　frail　modern　bed　to　creak　alarmingly　and　the　lamp　to　vibrate　on　the　bedside　table。　Those　earlier　groans　and　gasps　had　escalated　to　cries　of　delight　and　then　Miranda　was　sinking　down　on　to　her　partner；　rubbing　her　breasts　across　his　hairy　torso　so　that　the　sharp　nipples　spiked　him。
　　
　　For　some　time　after　that　they　lay　still　and　Sabat　feared　that　they　had　fallen　asleep　and　might　remain　so　until　morning；　in　which　case　his　night　would　have　been　wasted　for　it　was　only　safe　to　remain　away　from　his　physical　body　for　a　few　hours　each　time。
　　
　　However；　after　perhaps　twenty　minutes　the　man　stirred；　used　his　strength　to　extricate　himself　from　the　sensual　embrace　of　his　partner。　Til　have　to　be　going；'　he　muttered。
　　
　　'Or　your　wife'll　be　getting　suspicious；'　there　was　a　hint　of　jealousy　in　Miranda's　reply。
　　
　　'I　have　work　to　do。'　The　other　groped　for　his　shirt　which　was　lying　close　by　on　the　floor。　The　others　are　getting　impatient。　We　haven't　met　for　over　a　month　now。　It　has　been　too　dangerous　and　now　that　they've　found　Sheila　Dowson's　body　there's　going　to　be　cops　snooping　round　the　village　for　weeks　to　e。'
　　
　　'But　we　didn't　kill　her。　She　just。　。　。　had　a　cerebral　attack　or　something。'
　　
　　'Cerebral　attack！'　he　laughed　mirthlessly；　the　shirt　being　pulled　over　his　head　hiding　the　expression　bordering　on　terror　in　his　eyes。　'No　cerebral　attack　can　pound　the　skull　like　。　。　。　like　an　animal's　kicked　it　in！　You　know　yourself　what　happened　that　night　and　what　it　did　to　Horace。'
　　
　　'I　wasn't　looking。'　Her　hitherto　flushed　features　had　gone　deathly　pale　now。　'I　kept　my　face　buried　in　the　grass　and　my　eyes　shut　tight　and　prayed　it　wouldn't　happen　to　me。　When　d'you　think　Horace　will　be　ing　out　of　the　nuthouse？'
　　
　　'Not　for　a　long　time。　If　ever。'　The　big　man　was　sitting　on　the　side　of　the　bed　now；　struggling　to　pull　his　trousers　on。　The　last　I　heard　he　thought　he　was　Prime　Minister　and　was　ordering　the　doctors　to　set　him　free；　accusing　them　of　having　brought　his　government　down　by　an　armed　coup。　I　guess　I'll　have　to　take　over　from　now　onwards。'
　　
　　'Why。。。　why　don't　we　just　forget　about　it　all；　Royston？'　Miranda's　voice　quavered。　'We　。　。　。　don't　have　to　meet　again　。。。　or　anything　。。。　do　we？'
　　
　　'Don't　be　a　stupid　little　bitch！'　His　features　contorted　and　she　flinched　as　though　he　might　hit　her。　'We've　gone　too　far　to　back　out；　there's　no　turning　back　once　you've　trodden　the　Left　Hand　Path；　you　should　know　that。　We　are　the　disciples　of　the　Master　and　if　we　attempt　to　desert　him　he　will　strike　us　down　in　the　same　way　the　Dowson　girl　was　struck　down。　But　now　we　have　the　ultimate　in　power；　the　bones　of　Gardiner　himself　who　was　one　of　the　most　powerful；　if　the　least　known；　of　all　black　magicians；　The　Master　will　look　after　us　if　we　serve　him　well；　never　fear。'
　　
　　'Well；　he　didn't　exactly　look　after　Horace。'　The　girl　was　trembling　violently。　'Or　。　。　。　or　Sheila　Dowson。'
　　
　　'He　works　in　his　own　mysterious　way。　Horace　achieved　what　Crowley　achieved　many　years　ago　except　that　Horace　lost　his　courage　at　the　crucial　moment；　he　would　have　gone　blabbing　to　the　police。　The　Master　knew　this　and　silenced　him。　Possibly　he　would　have　struck　him　dead　had　Horace　not　had　a　record　of　devotion　to　the　Left　Hand　Path。　That　was　an　example　of　the　Master's　forbearance　towards　a　disciple。　Now　it　is　up　to　us　to　carry　on　his　work。　The　most　difficult　part　is　acplished。'
　　
　　'We　daren't　use　the　churchyard　again。'　A　pleading　whine。
　　
　　'Obviously　not。。。　at　the　moment。　But　do　you　think　that　I　have　not　taken　steps　to　find　another　place　and　now　our　new　temple　is　ready。　Within　a　few　nights　we　shall　be　gathered　there　but　until　the　time　is　nigh　I　shall