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ears to catch the words uttered in Creole。 'Die； fiend of a false god for this is still Damballah's day and I am his disciple！'
Spode； or whatever it was that controlled that terrible body； was dead。 Or rather； Sabat decided； the force which had motivated him had been vanquished； sent back whence it had e； a defeated entity returned to the Petro gods。
'I。。。 you 。。。〃 Sabat could no more easily find the words to thank Alison than when he had sought for a prayer of exorcism； a defence against psychic attack； a few moments ago。
'I am a follower of Damballah。' She regarded him steadily and he noted a deep sadness in her eyes。 'For five years I have been enslaved by this fiend； forced to pay homage to the Petro gods but I kept faith for I knew that one day the Rada gods would free me。 I knew the moment you arrived at the vicarage that you had been sent for this purpose even if you did not know it yourself。 I had no choice other than to give you that drugged coffee。 Had I refused or tried to trick him； my fate would have been that of Miranda's。'
Sabat glanced about him。 A scene of carnage； not a single groan or twitching limb among the strewn bodies； staring eyes reflecting brains that had been blasted into nothingness； himself and Alison the only survivors。 It was that war in the arid wastelands again； victory today； defeat tomorrow。 That was how it would go on； he must live for the present。
Gardiner's skeleton was no more； a heap of crushed bones as though the foot of some mighty prehistoric monster had stamped on it。 The Evil One had e and gone； and afterwards the Rada gods had destroyed the malignant force with a cunning psychic counter…attack。
'You cannot stay here；' Alison said。 'Damballah's day is drawing to a close。 1 shall be powerless then and possibly Baron Cimeterre will rule this place。 Go now； while you still can！'
'Not without you。'
'I cannot e。 Please do not try to make me。'
Sabat made as if to argue； shook his head sadly。 Alas； she spoke the truth。 Damballah； too； sometimes had to make a sacrifice in order to achieve his purpose。 It was useless trying to dissuade Alison from staying； it would have been dangerous for both of them had he removed her by force。 For surely then the Rada gods would have exacted their vengeance on himself just as they had on Royston Spode。
'Please go； Sabat。'
He nodded； thought he detected a mistiness in those eyes。
'All right。'
Yet still he hesitated； standing there scrutinising her but he felt no sense of arousement； only admiration for one so courageous； one so beautiful。 He was already mentally adding her name to the list of heroines whom mankind had known； those who had willingly lain down their lives for others。
There isn't much time left； Sabat。 Soon it will be midnight and Wednesday will have gone； and then everything I have strived for will have been in vain。 And we will both die just the same。'
He nodded； did not trust himself to speak。 There was nothing more to be said； they both knew that this was merely another phase of that unending battle。 Tomorrow it would begin all over again。 He turned； began to walk slowly away； and did not look back。
Sabat had barely got fifty yards； had almost left the old graveyard and its wilderness behind when he felt the ground beneath him start to shudder。 A faint tremor at first like the passing of a heavy lorry along the road； escalating into a vibration that every nerve in his body picked up； an electric massager on full volume。 The ground heaved； he clutched at a sapling to steady himself； felt its roots move； the slender trunk suddenly at an angle。 He clung to it； still stark naked； holding the empty revolver in one hand； expecting the earth to open up at any second； to pitch him down into that cavernous dark void that had no bottom； drifting in the black beyond forever； the hell of the Petro gods where Quentin would be free to inflict everlasting torment upon him。
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。
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