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Alda sighed audibly； accepting that Sabat told the truth。 Revenge would eventually be the only thing left to the last of the Oke Priests。
'What the fuck's going on？' Kent sat up； rubbed his bruised jaw and slowly it all came back to him。 'Hey； Sabat； you hit me！ Are you crazy； everybody sitting in a bloody circle in the nude and 。 。 。 hey； who's this guy and what's he doing here？'
'This is Alda； Arch…Druid of an ancient order。' Sabat made the introduction sound like it was a perfectly ordinary meeting and the old man was expected to be present。 'We've all cooled down and are trying to talk things over。'
You're all mad； Kent thought； but declined to voice his opinion。 It was bloody cold sitting here but he wasn't going to risk breaking up the party again。 He smoothed his jaw with his fingers； felt the swelling； but bore Sabat no resentment。 Strange how he had hated him in those last few seconds just before he had passed out； as though his mind had not been his own。 。。。
'Well； it's up to you； Alda；' Sabat spoke abruptly； a matter…of…fact tone that he might have used at any meeting that had gone on too long。 'Call your Oke Priests off and I'll take up the fight against the corrupt ones。 But I don't want you harbouring any ideas about getting even with me over what's happened so far because you started all this； I only fought back。'
'I cannot call off the old ones who demand revenge and sacrifice in mortal blood！' Alda's voice was a whine； his tone an apology to Sabat。 'Oh that I could； but it is not possible。'
'Why not？'
'Because I am not high priest of all the Oke Priests； for there have been many since my time。 Centuries have passed and Alda has been but a legend to those who came after him。 I was not strong enough； others who were more cruel than I followed and pandered to the cries of the rabble for blood and more blood。 This land is soaked in blood but that is as nothing pared with that which will be spilled now！'
There is no way of avoiding it？' Sabat's face was grim。 Kent had paled also。
'Only by giving back the land to the Oke Priests。'
'And if I do that？'
'Then the killings and the madness will cease。 But I cannot safeguard you Sabat for that is beyond my power。 Give the spirits back that which is rightfully theirs and this carnage will cease。 Shyaena will help you。 But we must be revenged 。。。 do you hear me； Sabat？ The Oke Priests must be revengedr
The light dimmed again； then went out。 Only then did Sabat notice a faint greyness creeping into the room through the chinks in the curtains。 Dawn was nigh and Alda could remain no longer。 He was gone as though he had never been。
'Well； I guess we don't need the pentagram any longer；' Sabat strode across and switched on the light； began retrieving his clothes。 'Everybody can get dressed now。'
None of them spoke until they were all fully clad。 The central heating seemed to be working again； Sabat decided as he checked the nearest radiator。
'I'll make some coffee；' Sheenah avoided Sabat's gaze； went through into the kitchen and began searching the cupboards。
'I guess you hate me like hell after last night；' Sabat followed her in and closed the door behind him。 It was the nearest he was ever likely to get to an apology。
'I thought maybe it was the other way round；' she managed a faint smile； her lower lip trembling。 'After all； I tried to kill you。 I lied to you； set up a trap for you。'
'Simply because you are Shyaena； offspring of Alda reborn；' Sabat slipped an arm around her。 'I have a similar problem。 I am possessed by my brother Quentin's soul which sometimes makes me do things I wouldn't do under normal circumstances。 However； I need to know how you and I stand now。'
'I will not try to kill you again；' she looked him full in the face； 'and neither will Alda because he has promised。 Only Alda has control over me。 But it is right what he says； the spirits of the old Oke Priests are powerful。 It is a tidal wave of wrath and blood which can only be stemmed by giving them back their sacred land。 But we also have to stay alive； for surely their anger will be directed towards me as well now that I have joined forces with you。'
'It's teamwork then； you； me and Kent？'
'All right。'
'Then we have to decide on our next move。'
'Destroy those who corrupt； Sabat； and the bloodshed will stop。 Take my word for it。'
A dull bang out in the hall； a vibration that caused more of the broken glass to shower into the house。
'What's that？' Sheenah was close behind Sabat as he opened the kitchen door； saw the empty hall and the room which they had just vacated。 There was no sign of Kent。
'Now where the hell's he gone to？' Sabat opened the outer door but the drive was empty。 'Perhaps he's just gone out to get a paper or something。* It sounded feeble。
'We must not let him out of our sight；' Sheenah clutched at Sabat's arm。 'Whether your friend likes it or not he is in this with us； marked down for death by the spirits of the Oke Priests。 Once night es again his life and his soul will be in danger； wherever he goes。 We must find him； Sabat！'
And Sabat's flesh was goosepimpling again。
CHAPTER EIGHT
KENT HAD to get away from the house otherwise he'd go mad； maybe he already was。 Jesus Christ； what the hell had happened last night？
The silent village looked sinister in the half…light of dawn。 My God； he'd had enough of Sabat。 Mark had been crazy during their SAS days together； a devil in action； one who killed mercilessly and enjoyed it。 But this was going too far。 All the same there had been something weird about the nocturnal hours； Kent had seen it with his own eyes if he did not understand it。
It was with no small amount of relief that he arrived back at the White Horse。 The side door was unlocked； maybe it was always left that way for residents who kept late hours。
The journalist crept up the flight of narrow winding stairs； winced every time a board creaked。 God； his head ached； a stabbing pain as if somebody was boring into his skull with a skewer。 A wave of dizziness had him swaying on the landing； clutching the carved oak rail in case he should fall。 A few seconds and the sensation passed and with a sigh of relief he made it into his room。
The sight of that single bed made him aware just how exhausted he was； less than an hour's sleep in the last twenty…four and that brief rest was only due to an uppercut by Sabat； goddamn the fellow！
Kent pushed the bolt home on the door and flung himself； still fully dressed； on to the bed。 Right now he didn't give a damn for Sabat； nor Sheenah； nor anybody else。 He wasn't budging from this bed for any of them。 They could all go to hell as far as he was concerned。
The room was dark when Kent awoke； a slow process； gathering his thoughts gradually； trying to piece the events of the past day together。 Disorientated； glancing at the luminous dial of his wristwatch； seeing that it was nine o'clock and trying to decide whether it was a。m。 or p。m。
His headache was gone； he felt refreshed。 It had to be nighttime。 That meant he had slept for about fifteen hours； a deep sleep interspersed with nightmarish dreams。 It was difficult to determine the borderline between dreams and reality after the night before； sanity or madness。
Kent swung his feet off the bed and switched on a table lamp。 Methodically he began to plan what he was going to do。 For a start； Sabat and that girl were crazy and no way was the Fleet Street man going to get involved in any more of that hocus…pocus。 It was all some kind of trickery； he decided； both sides trying to deceive the other by creating optical illusions； together with some kind of sleight of hand； like conjurers did。 The real story he was seeking didn't lie there。 Beneath it all lay the big scoop； corruption involving bishops and vicars and trustees and crooked builders。 That was the feature article he needed； not a lot of mumbo…jumbo that half his paper's readership would just skim through and forget all about ten minutes later。 Something sensational that would rock the nation； scandal that would shock church coffee mornings to the core。
To hell with Sabat； this was where their trails parted。 Kent let himself out of his room and went downstairs。
The lounge bar was packed to capacity； a hubbub of conversation all around him as he。 pushed his way to the bar。 Kent leaned against an upright beam； sensed a wave of dizziness； then steadied。 Kent seemed to feel heady； experienced a kind of unreality as though he was a spectator to his own actions。 During those brief seconds of mental aberration he had presumably functioned quite normally； found himself with a glass of whisky in his hand； its sharp flavour on his palate； and apparently engaged in conversation with a tall； silver…haired man。
' 。。。 this bishop fellow's an out…and…out rogue；' the other had a soft lilting voice； yet manding so that Kent found himself listening。 'He's getting a fat pay…off from this builder； Hurst； for the sale of the land。 And nobody can damned well prove a thing。 Stone； the planning officer； is in it too； another pay…out to get the green…belt clause made null and void。'
Kent stared； wondered who the hell this guy was； telling him all this and risking a slander action。 Of course； everybody in the village was saying exactly the same thing so he probably considered himself to be on safe ground。 The man had an air of affluence about him； more in his manner than his mode of dress： a well…worn tweed sports jacket and flannels； long out of fashion； the kind you found elderly gentlemen on bowling greens wearing； topped off with a wide…brimmed panama hat liberally sprinkled with gnat repellant。
But this fellow couldn't be more than fifty。 There was definitely something odd about him； his movements jerky； his thin lips moving mechanically like those of a puppet； lisping as though he had some slight impediment of speech。
'Vicar Mannering's a crook； too；' the stranger went on。 'I'll give you an instance。 It was always the custom for the curate to have the Easter Sunday offering and the vicar of the mother church to have the Whit Sunday one。 Oh yes； it'd been a custom for years； but Mannering suddenly realised that the Easter congregation was almost double the Whit one。 So the greedy blighter got the bishop to swap the offertories over so that the vicar got the golden egg。 That's what we're up against in the Church today； believe me； sir。'
Kent found himself nodding。 The buzz of conversation around him seemed to have receded so that this man was the focal point； the principal actor in an amateur theatrical production。 But nobody was looking at them； they might have been the only two people in that room against a background of taped sound effects。
'We've had another meeting tonight。 I guess if these villagers had their way they'd make a huge bonfire and burn the bishop； Hurst； and Stone on it。 Probably chuck Vicar Mannering on as well for good measure。 Incinerate the damned lot of them and start again from scratch。' That stilted mouth moved； stretched into a laugh； a sound that had shivers running up and down Kent's spine。
'You're a stranger here； sir；' eyes that seemed to bore into Kent。 'But you can't divorce yourself from this situation because the cancer within the Church is spreading so that eventually it'll rot us all like some right…wing dictatorship that has got a stranglehold on the nation。 They've misappropriated funds and trusts to suit themselves。 e； sir； let me show you the state of the church roof。 There's enough moonlight to see it by。 It'll collapse before long； the roof I mean；' another forced laugh。 Td like you to see for yourself so that you can go back to wherever you've e from and tell your friends what's happening in the Church today。 〃Spread the word〃； eh！'
Kent didn't want to go。 The last thing he wanted to do was to go back to that cemetery and