gns.thegraveyardvultures-第33章
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foreman at the small clothing factory where he worked and gone home。 Jon's horrific accident was surely an omen。 Some of those fucking ghouls on the shopfloor were discussing the details。 Andy had rushed into the toilet； spewed until his guts couldn't throw up anymore。 The foreman had taken one look at him and told him to piss off home before he spread whatever bug he'd got among the workforce。
At twenty…two； Andy's problems seemed to be closing in on him； he found members of his own sex far more attractive than those of the opposite one and it must have shown because some of those crude bastards he worked with had taken to referring to him as 'Pouf。 And that wasn't because he was physically frail and got out of breath easily。
He'd started going to church； much to his conventional parent's joy and amazement； but that had only led to worse things。 That vicar wasn't a vicar at all； Andy had found that out after Spode had asked him to remain behind one Sunday after Matins and all sorts of shameful and pleasurable things had happened in the vestry。 It had all been a fix by Spode to trap him； to get a hold on him so he couldn't desert the coven。 And once he'd got his talons into him Spode didn't make life enjoyable anymore； and neither did he do those things he'd done in the beginning。
Last night had been a living nightmare。 Playing about with some old skeleton was revolting enough； but Jesus； Andy had never thought they'd do things such as they did to that girl！ But there was no turning back and now he was ordered to attend a special 'evensong munion' prior to 。 。 。 Royston Spode promised them that tonight would be the climax to their devotion and that in return； each and every one of them would receive power beyond their wildest dreams。 Crap！ It was scary； they were all accessories to murder； but there wasn't such a thing as magic； just an excuse to perform revolting rites。 Yet inexplicable happenings had occurred。 It was all clever trickery of some kind but nevertheless Andy was trapped。 He'd have to go to the church at 7。30 and to the crypt afterwards。
'You look ill。' There was concern on his mother's face as she met him in the hall of their two…up； two…down cottage。 'You'd better go to bed and stop there for the rest of the day。'
'I'm not ill；' the last thing Andy wanted was to find himself a prisoner in his bedroom； he dared not disobey Spode's orders。 'I've been made redundant and it came as a bit of a shock。' Now that was a stupid lie； blurted out on the spur of the moment。 How was he going to explain why he had to go to work in the morning？ Let's get tonight over first。
'Well； you'd better go and lie down for a while just the same；' she said。 'Your father and I are going on the WI coach trip to Stratford this evening so you'll have to look after yourself while we're away。'
That was a relief； a clear coast and nobody to ask questions。 He went up to his room； stretched out on his bed。 He was trembling； scared to hell。 Christ； if only he could think of something。 In about thirty minutes he did just that； an idea that made his mouth dry up and flooded his armpits with sweat。
Everybody hated Spode even though they pretended to worship him with reverence down in that damp； dark； smelly hole of a Satanic temple。 But nobody had the guts to do anything about it。 Sure； they revelled in the orgies but once they'd satisfied themselves they were terrified of the rest of the night's proceedings。 It was like a sumptuous first course with a revolting sweet to follow。 And it all happened because of a nutcase of a vicar who had convinced everybody that he had supernatural powers。 Without Royston Spode it would all e to an end。
Andy Drew thought some more； sweated profusely； and told himself it could be done。 And he would have to do it because nobody else would。 In a way it was like avenging Jon Borth … a life for a life！
He slid off the bed； found his old sheath knife in the dressing table drawer； the one he'd had when he was a scout。 He tested the blade with his thumb； it was sharp enough to do the trick。
He'd have to kill Spode in the church！ Christ； it'd be like Thomas Beckett； he'd even played a minor part in the play of the Canterbury murder they'd put on at school； but this time it would all be for real。 When he knelt to receive 。 。 。 human flesh and blood I God； it was cannibalism； chewing on a square of 。。。 that wretch's flesh； tasting her thick； soup…like blood。 Andy wouldn't let it get that far。 He'd have the knife hidden up his sleeve ready to drop down； hilt first into the palm of his hand； and as Spode bent to serve him he'd plunge it deep into that fat belly。 The others would be with him once Royston Spode was down； between them they'd drag the body through the graveyard； throw it into the old crypt and fill the entrance with rubble。 And nobody would ever find it。 Simple。
Andy Drew knew that he could go through with it； it was either that or take his own life and he lacked the courage to do the 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 v
