gns.thegraveyardvultures-第39章

按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！


。
　　
　　He　closed　his　eyes；　did　not　even　pray。　Somewhere　below　he　felt　rather　than　heard　the　rumbling　of　an　avalanche；　stone　cascading　and　gathering　stone；　a　tide　of　rubble　that　buried　everything　in　its　path。　Screams；　maybe　it　was　his　imagination；　maybe　not。　And　he　smelled　dust　and　decay；　saw　in　his　mind　that　battlefield　where　warriors　writhed　their　final　agonies；　an　impenetrable　blackness　which　hid　the　waiting　vultures；　a　landscape　of　death　upon　which　a　blistering　sun　would　rise。　And　then　the　struggle　would　begin　all　over　again。
　　
　　Stillness。　It　was　sometime　before　he　realised　it；　aware　that　the　ground　upon　which　he　stood　had　not　caved　in；　a　silence　that　in　some　ways　was　even　more　terrifying。　He　listened；　could　not　even　hear　the　soughing　of　the　breeze　through　the　foliage。　And　in　the　eastern　sky　he　detected　a　grey　streak；　the　first　light　of　a　new　dawn。
　　
　　He　walked　on；　shivering；　aware　that　time　had　passed　unnoticed；　seconds　had　bee　hours　without　him　realising　it。　He　thought　about　going　back；　just　to　see；　to　satisfy　himself　that　that　square　black　hole　beneath　with　the　broken　stone　steps　leading　down　to　hell　were　no　more。　But　he　didn't；　because　he　knew　there　would　be　nothing　to　see；　only　soil　and　rubble；　for　the　dead　had　buried　their　dead。　Damballah's　disciple　had　had　her　finest　hour；　had　triumphed　while　there　was　still　time。　A　bargain　had　been　honoured　and　Sabat　had　lived　to　fight　again；　for　the　Petro　gods　would　not　forget　this　night　when　their　black　religion　from　a　far…off　island　was　destroyed　before　it　had　even　spawned　in　a　new　country。
　　
　　Daylight　came　quickly　as　though　eager　to　destroy　the　night　hours；　roll　them　back　into　oblivion。　Sabat　saw　the　outline　of　the　vicarage；　a　massive　unfriendly　structure；　frowning　its　disapproval　in　the　grey　light　as　though　it　watched　him　emerging　from　the　undergrowth　beneath　knitted　gabled　brows；　hating　him　for　what　he'd　done。　Sabat　felt　an　impulsive　urge　to　scream；　'your　fucking　master's　dead；　you're　just　an　ordinary　bloody　house　now'；　but　he　kept　silent。
　　
　　Then　he　saw　the　Daimler；　stared　at　it　in　disbelief　as　though　it　might　be　a　mirage　and　suddenly　disappear。　He　approached　it　catlike；　fearing　a　trap；　some　last　act　of　vengeance　by　the　powers　of　darkness；　circled　it　warily；　then　opened　the　driver's　door　and　saw　a　fragment　of　cloth　torn　from　a　colourful　dress　caught　on　the　seat。
　　
　　He　reached　over　to　the　back　seat；　found　a　sweater　and　a　spare　pair　of　trousers　which　he　kept　there　for　emergencies；　and　put　them　on。　A　long　sigh　escaped　his　lips　as　he　slid　in　behind　the　wheel；　pressed　the　starter　and　fired　the　engine。　A　feeling　of　dissatisfaction　mingled　with　that　lingering　sadness　and　slowly　simmered　to　a　cold　fury　as　he　drove　back　down　the　winding　drive。　It　was　always　the　same；　the　Evil　One　once　called　never　returned　empty…handed。　It　could　have　been　himself　this　time　only　it　was　Alison　because　that　was　the　way　she　wanted　it；　the　way　Damballah　had　manded　her。　A　life　for　a　life；　a　soul　for　a　soul。
　　
　　And　somewhere　inside　him　Quentin　was　cursing；　a　stream　of　profanity；　the　frustration　of　defeat；　reminding　Sabat　that　this　was　only　the　beginning。　There　would　be　other　places；　other　evils；　and　the　battle　would　rage　mercilessly　yet　again　before　long。
　　
　　Sabat's　mood　changed　as　the　miles　fell　away　behind　him。
　　
　　Alison　slipped　from　his　mind；　was　replaced　by　a　shapely　blonde　in　black　boots　with　bra　and　suspenders　to　match；　but　she；　too；　was　lost　in　the　past。　Then　he　remembered　another　woman；　a　brunette　with　unusually　bright　blue　eyes　who　was　equally　as　good　with　her　select　clientele　and　his　foot　increased　its　pressure　on　the　accelerator。　That　was　another　call　that　could　not　be　denied；　something　older　even　than　voodoo。



1