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'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 stepped back to survey his handiwork； a smile of satisfaction crinkling the corners of his cruel mouth。 Perfection； the best he'd ever done … an inverted cross carved on a living human body！ Perhaps he ought to have stripped the victim first so that his followers would have fully appreciated his bloody artistry。 He heard their intakes of breath； gasps of awe。
'Let us return to the church；' he snapped； 'for it will soon be nightfall and then we have much to do！'
The vicar lingered for one last glimpse of his latest sacrifice。 The blood was pouring thick and fast from the mutilated body； a leg twitching in a final reflex protest； the eyes still closed。
Then Spode's eyes returned to Sabat。 Royston Spode felt the urge to laugh out loud； to mock and jeer； for Drew's blood had soaked the limp form of Sabat； saturated him with scarlet dripping fluid。 A sacrifice bloodied in readiness； a taste to whet the dark gods' appetite so that they might grant Spode's request and transfer the ultimate in evil power from those ancient bones to his own body。
CHAPTER TWELVE
SABATS INITIAL horror turned to sheer relief as his astral sight picked out the youth's body propped up between his own and Gardiner's remains。 He saw Andy Drew's mutilated flesh； the way the wound had been fashioned into a blasphemous inverted cross； the pumping blood having slowed to a trickle and then begun to congeal。 Another death； another sacrifice； but it could have been worse。 One member of this terrible coven more or less was of no consequence。 At least his own body still remained unscathed and it was a relief to slip into it once more； almost savouring the feel of warm blood which was not his own after all。
Very slowly consciousness returned to Sabat。 His eyelids flickered half open and through them he took in the scene which surrounded him。 The candles had been left burning and he could see clearly although his range of vision was restricted； the dead youth threatening to slide down on to him at the slightest vibration； a skeletal leg only inches from his own。 He took a deep breath； smelled the overpowering rancid odour of Drew's blood； the cold cloying stench of stale air and 。 。 。 evil！ For even now the dark forces were ing alive down here； the temperature having fallen rapidly so that Sabat's flesh goosepimpled and he shivered。
He was surprised to discover how mentally refreshed he felt； just as he always did after a trip on to the astral plane。 He tried to flex his arm and leg muscles but they remained limp … the effects of that paralysing drug had not worn off yet。 He sighed； his earlier despair returning。 He was totally helpless； a sacrificial victim whenever Royston Spode chose to return。 The Rada gods had been contacted； a bargain made； but whether or not they chose to keep it was debatable。 Like himself they were fickle 。。。 and ruthless！
He considered once more escaping on to the astral； leaving this empty shell of a body for them to do what they would with it； taking his chance on that eternal battlefield in the timeless wilderness； a mercenary who would join either Rada or Petro forces。 But it was impossible； even if he chose to do so； for the necessary sleep…like trance which would project him into immortality would not easily be induced now that his mind was refreshed。 And the evil which existed in this hellish dungeon would not allow him to desert his body； would deny him sleep。
Another thought struck him； he still had his gun； the loaded 。38 weighted against his side。 With it he could have blasted Spode； maybe taken a few of the others as well until their numbers bore him down。 Only he was denied the use of his limbs； his forefinger incapable of taking the slightest trigger pressure。…Finally he accepted that there was only one course open to him … he must wait and place his faith in Damballah； chief of the Rada gods； whose day was Wednesday。 He had until midnight！
Time was standing still again； even the wax on those black candles seeming to burn unconsumed。 It was much； much colder too。 Sabat tensed； listening for a sound which did not e； the tramp of approaching feet that would herald his death and worse。 Instead he heard another noise； a faint creaking like the rusty hinge on a gate when the wind freshened； a movement such as rheumatic limbs might make。 His spine tingled as the noise grated on his nerves 。。。 so close！
A movement attracted his attention； something white against a black background； reflecting the flickering candlelight 。 。 。 Oh God； the skeleton's leg was bending 。 。 。 stretching。。。 flexing！
Sabat tried to close his eyes； wanted to spare himself the sight of a blasphemous rebirth； was even more conscious of his own helplessness。 Spode's magic； the sacrifice of human flesh and blood； the living evil in this crypt had resulted in the ultimate success； a living entity more unbelievable； more horrific than the fictional Frankenstein's monster。 But Sabat could not induce his eyelids to close； just as hours before it had proved impossible to open them。 He was condemned to watch； to listen to noises beyond the angle of his limited vision。
Jesus Christ； whatever it was it breathed； rattled a broken ribcage with stentorian intakes of air； stood and moved uncertainly on clicking feet。 It was behind him； skulking in the shadows； wheezing so that he felt its cold breath。 Now ing for him； a hunter from beyond mortal ken stalking its prey！
Mentally he braced himself； knew not what form the attack would take； a blasting of his reason； a stopping of his heartbeat by the sight of this terrible miscreation or the strangulating grip of skeletal fingers around his throat？
Something came at him out of the darkness； a grotesque bloody form that struck him with its full weight； knocking the breath from his body； causing him to scream his terror in his mind。 Cold flesh against his face； a weighty thing that sagged an