gns.cannibalcult-第27部分

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rso；　rolls　of　fat　that　resembled　a　woman's　breasts。　Andre　Schmid！
　　
　　Sabat　crept　to　the　door；　three　drawing　pins　in　his　left　hand；　the　rope　in　his　right。　The　wood　was　soft　and　rotten；　the　sharp　points　going　in　easily。　Fifteen　seconds；　maybe　less；　and　the　front　entrance　was　barred　to　all　who　sought　to　leave　or　enter。　He　smiled　faintly　in　the　darkness；　then　moved　on；　following　the　wall　to　his　left。
　　
　　The　rear　door　was　dealt　with　just　as　swiftly　and　then　Sabat　was　standing　back　in　the　shadows　admiring　his　handiwork；　remembering　how　he　himself　had　once　been　the　victim　of　an　almost　identical　psychic　attack。　It　hadn't　worked；　simply　because　he　had　the　gift　of　exorcism；　had　been　able　to　break　the　barrier。　This　coven　would　not　have　that　advantage；　their　evil　magic　would　be　no　match　for　the　power　of　Quentin！
　　
　　He　stepped　back　into　the　shrubs　lining　the　short　drive　and　waited。　He　had　to　stay　and　see　what　happened。　If　by　any　chance　they　managed　to　break　out。。。　he　fingered　the　butt　of　his　？38　inside　his　jacket。　There　would　be　only　one　course　left　open　to　him　if　that　happened。
　　
　　He　listened　intently；　tried　to　determine　what　was　happening　in　that　upper　storey。　Muffled　conversation；　a　girl　was　squealing；　others　were　laughing。　Apparently　the　cannibal　cult　could　not　wait　until　they　got　to　the　old　chapel　for　the　orgies　to　begin。
　　
　　Shouting。　Sabat　recognised　Schmid's　angry　tones。　Things　were　getting　out　of　control　and　the　mune　leader　was　anxious　that　everybody　prepared　themselves　for　Walpurgisnacht　and　whatever　it　held　for　them。
　　
　　Sabat　tensed；　heard　them　ing　downstairs；　a　shambling　rabble　high　on　drugs　and　alcohol；　their　appetites　whetted　for　a　feast　of　human　flesh！　He　pressed　himself　back　into　the　bushes；　drew　his　'？38；　waited。
　　
　　Andre　Schmid；　clutching　a　portmanteau　containing　his　robes　and　various　impedimenta　needed　for　the　ing　black　mass；　turned　back　to　survey　his　followers。　Rabble；　the　scum　of　the　continent。　They　didn't　understand；　just　did　it　for　kicks；　but　they　had　their　uses。　A　fair…haired　girl　dressed　in　filthy　worn　jeans　was　mopping　at　a　damp　patch　on　her　thigh　with　a　tissue。　Schmid　smiled　briefly。　Jeanette；　too；　had　her　uses！
　　
　　'e　on；'　he　growled。　'It　is　already　dark　and　we　must　hurry。　We　have　to　find　vehicles　first。'
　　
　　His　hand　closed　over　the　doorknob　and　that　was　when　he　knew　that　something　was　dreadfully　wrong。　A　sensation　like　a　faint　electric　shock　to　begin　with；　spreading　down　through　his　fingers　and　up　his　arm；　growing　in　strength；　travelling　upwards　like　an　angina　pain。　Something　struck　him　in　the　chest；　an　invisible　physical　blow　hurling　him　back　so　that　he　cannoned　into　some　of　the　others；　sprawling　them　with　him　on　the　floor。　Somebody　screamed；　it　sounded　like　Jeanette。

　　
　　'Andre！　What　is　it？'
　　
　　He　lay　there　dazed　for　a　moment；　the　pain　subsiding　as　quickly　as　it　had　e；　leaving　in　its　wake　a　flesh…creeping　pins…and…needles。　He　grunted；　began　to　struggle　up。　Something　was　wrong　with　that　door；　somebody　had　connected　up　an　electric　current　to　it。　He　wasn't　going　to　touch　it　again。
　　
　　'Keep　away　from　that　door；'　he　grunted。　'Somebody's　。。。　done　something　to　it。'
　　
　　'Whatever　do　you　mean；　Andre？*　Jeanette's　eyes　were　wide；　her　voice　shrill。　'Whatever　would　anybody　want　to　do　anything　to　the　door　for？'
　　
　　'I　don't　know；'　he　backed　away　another　step。　'Let's　go　out　of　the　back　door。'
　　
　　Andre's　arm　and　chest　still　hurt；　he　was　both　angry　and　frightened。　Afraid　that　they　would　not　make　it　up　to　the　chapel　in　the　mountains　in　time。　Desperation；　almost　running；　clawing　at　the　flimsy　handle。
　　
　　A　scream；　it　was　Jeanette　again；　her　shriek　taken　up　by　the　others　after　a　second's　pause　whilst　their　brains　accepted　what　their　eyes　saw。　It　was　as　though　an　invisible　boot　had　been　implanted　with　full　force　in　Andre's　groin；　doubling　him　up；　throwing　him　to　the　floor。　He　writhed；　clutching　at　his　groin；　his　features　deathly　white。
　　
　　The　group　pushed　back；　formed　into　a　cowering　semicircle；　watching　his　agonised　convulsion　in　shocked　horror。　His　features　were　twisted　with　pain；　he　was　trying　to　speak　but　was　having　difficulty　getting　the　words　out。　'Don't。。。　don't　go　near。。。　doors。'
　　
　　'Why？'　Jeanette　asked　the　question　that　everybody　in　that　filthy　kitchen　wanted　to　ask。
　　
　　'I've　heard　of。。。　of　what's　happening；'　Schmid　was　pale　and　trembling；　lurching　to　his　feet　and　holding　on　to　the　fair…haired　girl　for　support。　'Somebody's　making　a。。。　a　psychic　attack　on　us！'
　　
　　Shocked　silence。　Nobody　really　understood　but　they　had　seen　enough　of　their　leader's　witchcraft　over　the　past　few　months　to　realise　that　there　were　terrible　things　beyond　their　ken　which　were　better　kept　that　way。
　　
　　Schmid　stared　round　at　them；　his　small　eyes　flicking　from　one　to　the　other；　glazing　as　though　his　mind　was　absent。　As　though　something　inexplicable　was　happening　to　it！　They　backed　away；　wanted　to　flee　but　there　was　nowhere　to　run。　They　were　all　trapped　inside　the　house！
　　
　　'You　scum！'　Andre　Schmid's　veins　stood　out；　his　pallid　plexion　beginning　to　suffuse　with　blood。　The　film　over　his　eyes　had　cleared　and　they　blazed　with　something　that　went　far　deeper　than　just　anger。　'You're　nothing　but　scum；　the　lot　of　you。　This　is　all　your　doing。　The　Master；　and　he　whom　we　were　going　to　raise　from　the　dead　tonight；　have　refused　to　have　the　likes　of　you　present　at　such　an　occasion。　So　they　have　attacked；　imprisoned　us　here。　And　me！'　He　tapped　his　chest；　could　still　feel　the　force　of　that　inexplicable　blow。　'Because　of　you　/　am　fated　to　be　denied　the　right　to　bee　Louis　Nevillon　reborn！　Me；　a　high　priest；　relegated　to　the　status　of　a　drop…out。'
　　
　　They　glanced　at　one　another；　their　fear　merging　into　a　growing　anger。　Fury　united。　They　had　submitted　to　the　mands　and　whims　of　this　man　for　too　long。　They　had　given　themselves　to　him；　bee　his　slaves。　Pandered　to　his　obsessions　and　whims；　traded　their　self…respect　for　his　pleasures。　They　had　been　used！
　　
　　Drugs　and　alcohol　began　to　merge　into　a　spluttering　seething　fuse　that　burned　towards　the　ultimate　explosion。　There　were　pleasures　that　were　fading　from　their　lives。　Without　Schmid　those　unholy　feasts　and　orgies　would　be　no　more。　Or　would　they？
　　
　　'It's　his　doing！'　a　big　red…haired　youth　pointed　an　accusing　finger　at　the　man　who　now　stood　alone。　'He's　been　using　us。　We're　trapped　here　when　we　should　be　feasting　on　what　we　were　promised。　It's　all　a　trick。　He's　done　something　to　the　doors　to　trap　us　in　here。　So　why　should　we　be　denied　our　Walpurgisnacht　。/〃*/？'
　　
　　'Michel　is　right。'　It　was　Jeanette　who　echoed　their　thoughts。　She　could　still　feel　the　dampness　of　that　patch　on　her　jeans　clinging　wetly　to　her　thigh；　despised　herself　for　what　she　had　let　Andre　do　to　her。　Now；　suddenly；　revenge　and　a　chance　to　redeem　her　pride　were　there　for　the　taking。　'If　we　cannot　go　up　into　the　mountains　why　should　we　be　denied　our　Walpurgisnacht/ecs/？'
　　
　　A　chorus　of　angry　agreement　that　had　Andre　Schmid　stepping　back。　Then　he　was　sent　sprawling　again　by　a　blow　that　threatened　to　snap　his　spine；　bringing　a　scream　from　his　lips。　He　had　inadvertently　made　contact　with　that　cursed　door　again！
　　
　　As　he　convulsed　and　shrieked　on　the　floor　they　were　upon　him；　courage　and　strength　in　numbers；　a　force　that　even　the　high　priest　of　the　cannibal　cult　was　powerless　against。　His　clothing　was　ripped；　torn　from　his　corpulent　body　in　shreds；　a　booted　foot　slammed　into　his　ribs；　fists　thudded　down　on　him。
　　
　　'Stop　it。　Stop　it　in　the　name　of。。。'
　　
　　It　was　never　discovered　whose　name　he　swore　by　as　Jeanette's　elbow　took　him　in　the　mouth；　throwing　his　head　back；　his　lower　lip　splitting　and　oozing　crimson。　He　fought　back　blindly；　kicking　and　punching；　but　within　seconds　his　arms　and　legs　were　seized　and　he　was　hauled　aloft。
　　
　　'Stoke　the　fire　somebody！'　Now　it　was　Michel's　fury　that　dominated；　a　new　driving　force　that　had　the　hippies　scurrying　for　coal　and　logs　in　the　bunker　by　the　stove。　'And　he　promised　us　meat　tonight　and　meat　we　shall　have！'
　　
　　Schmid　screamed　but　a　hand　was　clapped　over　his　bleeding　mouth。　Grubby