gns.cannibalcult-第29部分

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rything　would　be　as　it　always　had　been。
　　
　　A　sudden　whim；　one　that　frightened　her。　Suppose　she　just　lifted　the　coffin　lid；　had　a　quick　peep　in　at　her　beloved。　He　wouldn't　mind。　She　wondered　what　was　happening　to　him；　his　head　had　already　rejoined　itself　to　his　body　so　surely　some　form　of　life　was　beginning　hi　the　flesh　and　bones。　Like　a　tree　graft；　a　steady　progress。
　　
　　She　stepped　up　to　the　coffin；　grasped　the　edges　of　the　lid　with　her　fingers。　God；　it　was　cold；　as　though　it　was　constructed　of　sheets　of　black　ice。　She　was　shivering。　Perhaps　she　ought　not　to　look；　it　was　an　imposition　on　the　privacy　of　his　rebirth。
　　
　　Yet　her　curiosity　was　aroused；　bined　with　an　insatiable　desire　to　gaze　once　more　upon　those　fine　features；　maybe　to　press　her　own　lips　briefly　against　his。　Wake　soon；　my　darling；　for　I　need　you！　Fear　gripped　her　again；　had　her　wanting　to　back　away　and　wait　until　Sabat　arrived。　But　she　didn't；　even　now　her　muscles　were　bulging　as　though　they　had　a　will　of　their　own；　her　small　veins　showing　blue　against　the　whiteness　of　her　wrists　as　she　took　the　strain。　Perhaps　she　would　not　be　strong　enough？
　　
　　The　lid　moved　an　inch　or　so；　hinges　creaking　their　protest　at　this　disturbance。　Then；　without　warning；　the　lead　top　came　up　easily　as　though　on　powerful　springs；　banging　right　back　against　the　altar　with　a　metallic　clang　that　echoed　in　the　confined　space。
　　
　　Madeleine　Gaufridi　bent　forward；　peered　inside。　And　screamed！
　　
　　Mother　of　God；　it　had　happened！　Perhaps　deep　down　she　had　not　really　convinced　herself　that　it　would；　a　childish　fantasy　that　she　was　determined　to　live　out　until　the　very　end；　self…indoctrination；　believing　what　she　wanted　to　believe。　Building　up　hopes。　Now　they　had　all　e　true！
　　
　　There　was　no　movement　from　the　body　in　the　coffin　and　to　all　outward　appearances　it　was　still　a　corpse；　pallid　flesh　that　gave　off　that　familiar　death　odour。　Yet　those　eyes　saw　and　understood；　held　their　own　expression　of　bewilderment；　an　awakening　brain　trying　to　e　to　terms　with　its　surroundings。　Louis　Nevillon　was　alive！
　　
　　Madeleine　staggered　back；　almost　pulled　the　lid　down　to　shut　it　in；　imprison　it　inside　four　lead　walls。　But　she　didn't；　found　herself　cowering　on　the　floor；　watching　in　horrified　anticipation　of　her　lover's　rebirth；　expecting　him　to　sit　up　at　any　moment；　clamber　out；　e　to　claim　her　for　his　own　again。
　　
　　Nothing　happened。　The　candlelight　did　not　seem　so　bright　as　before　but　she　could　not　be　sure。　Her　skin　pimpled　with　cold　and　fear；　but　she　did　not　want　to　get　dressed　for　this　was　how　Louis　would　want　to　see　her。　Perhaps　the　sight　would　arouse　him。　She　shuddered　at　the　thought；　tried　to　fight　off　the　idea　that　she　really　did　not　want　him　to　live　again。　She　did！　She　did！
　　
　　How　long　she　cowered　there　she　had　no　idea。　It　might　have　been　minutes　or　hours　for　suddenly　this　tiny　chapel　had　bee　a　timeless　void　of　terror。　Gradually　her　reasoning　returned。　Maybe　she　had　been　mistaken；　a　trick　of　the　candlelight　in　those　dead　eyes。　Yet　body　and　head　had　joined　themselves　together　so　anything　was　possible。　She　was　being　too　conditioned　to　the　thinking　of　conventional　people。　Was　not　she　Madeleine　de　Demandolx　de　la　Palud　who　had　corrupted　the　young　nuns　in　the　convent　at　Aix…en…Provence？　She　had　spread　the　word　of　Louis　Nevillon；　the　Anti…Christ；　and　now　his　ways　were　racing　across　the　continent　like　an　unchecked　forest　fire。　Sabat；　too；　Quentin　reborn　so　that　his　association　with　the　Beast　of　France　could　resume。　And　her　own　role？　That　was　the　most　frightening　prospect　of　all　because　she　did　not　know。
　　
　　She　sank　down；　lay　full　length　on　the　stone　floor；　but　it　no　longer　seemed　cold　and　hard。　Just　a　bed　with　clean　linen；　herself　waiting。　For　what？　Waiting　for　Louis　Nevillon　to　e　and　take　her！
　　
　　Her　whole　body　trembled　but　not　because　of　the　sudden　drop　in　atmospheric　temperature；　a　quivering　that　was　warm　and　exciting。　And　dominating！　Her　hands　seemed　to　move　as　though　with　a　will　of　their　own；　obeying　a　deep　instinct；　her　fingers　smoothing　downwards；　their　touch　so　sensuous　that　her　breathing　quickened。　She　knew　where　they　were　going；　that　area　of　soft　moist　flesh　that　was　crying　out　for　relief。
　　
　　One　brief　second　of　guilt；　that　time　at　the　convent　when　she　had　gone　up　to　the　dormitory　after　mass　because　this　same　feeling　had　got　the　better　of　her　and　she　had　to　appease　it。　She　had　been　so　engrossed　in　the　sensations　which　her　manipulations　brought　her　that　she　had　not　heard　the　door　open。　One　of　the　older　nuns　had　entered；　stared　in　shocked　surprise　at　the　sight　of　Madeleine's　convulsing　body。　Even　then　she　hadn't　been　able　to　stop；　had　to　finish　and　satisfy　herself　whatever　the　consequences。　She　had　resigned　herself　to　expulsion　from　the　convent；　for　surely　Sister　Camille　would　report　her　to　the　Mother　Superior　for　defiling　her　own　body。
　　
　　Instead　Sister　Camille　had　slipped　out　of　her　own　robes；　revealed　a　shapely　body　that　had　been　hidden　for　far　too　long　beneath　those　capacious　robes；　and　came　to　join　her　on　the　bed。　Madeleine　was　at　her　weakest；　could　not　have　resisted　the　other's　advances　even　if　she　had　wanted　to。　Camille's　touch　was　out　of　this　world；　kisses　that　burned　like　liquid　fire；　a　flicking　tongue　that　knew　the　places　that　brought　the　ultimate　delight。　Two　bodies　entwining；　inseparable　limbs　flaying　the　air；　then　shuddering　to　a　trembling　standstill；　clutching　at　each　other；　kissing　gently；　sobbing　their　spent　passion。　That　was　when　Louis　Nevillon's　seed　of　corruption　was　sown。　It　had　germinated；　blossomed；　and　in　the　end　Madeleine　had　had　to　run。　And　Sister　Camille　had　continued　spreading　the　word。
　　
　　Madeleine's　feelings　were　akin　to　that　now；　only　more　so；　a　mind…blowing　maelstrom。　The　candle　flames　seemed　to　have　shrunk　until　they　were　no　more　than　tiny　twin　glow…worms　in　the　darkness　but　Madeleine　did　not　care。　Sister　Camille's　stabbing　tongue　was　taking　her　up　to　yet　another　orgasm。　She　exploded；　clutched　wildly　at　the　air；　was　spinning；　then　floating　in　space。　Falling；　hands　reaching　out　for　her。
　　
　　But　they　were　not　the　soft　hands　of　Sister　Camille。　Instead　they　were　rough　and　strong　and　so　deathly　cold；　fingers　that　felt　and　probed　at　her　body；　icy　breath　fanning　her　face。
　　
　　She　went　rigid；　wanted　to　hold　back　but　did　not　dare。　The　touch；　although　abrasive　and　ungentle；　was　all　too　familiar。　A　scream　rose　into　her　throat　but　it　never　made　it　as　her　vocal　chords　constricted。　She　wanted　to　shrink　away　but　her　body　was　held　there　as　though　by　invisible　bonds。　It　was　impossible　to　disobey　Louis　Nevillon！
　　
　　The　candles　had　gone　out。　Nothing　but　pitch　darkness　everywhere。　Perhaps　it　was　best　that　way；　for　the　sight　of　the　one　who　was　roughly　fondling　her　could　have　snapped　her　mind。　She　had　waited　longingly　for　this　reunion　and　now　that　it　had　arrived　it　was　the　most　terrible　moment　of　her　present　life。　She　wondered　if　he　sensed　it；　prayed　that　he　did　not；　for　the　Beast　of　France　took　a　terrible　revenge　on　any　who　rejected　him。　She　tried　to　tell　herself　that　she　loved　him；　that　it　was　just　the　shock　of　the　culmination　of　all　those　months　of　waiting。　But　she　knew　that　she　lied。
　　
　　She　heard　his　heavy　breathing；　a　rasping　of　air　in　stale　lungs　that　had　to　learn　how　to　inhale　and　expel　again。　Limbs　that　were　stiff　and　wooden　after　weeks　of　idleness　in　death。　Love…making　had　bee　an　unfamiliar　exercise　for　Louis　Nevillon　and　she　must　bear　with　him。
　　
　　Madeleine　tried　to　relax　but　it　was　impossible；　terror　rendered　her　tense　and　unyielding　so　that　he　had　to　force　her　legs　wide。　His　closeness　was　like　an　iceberg。　Yet　if　he　lived　then　surely　his　heart　must　pump　warm　blood。　Or　in　this；　his　latest　ing　again；　had　he　chosen　to　bee　one　of　the　living　dead？
　　
　　He　took　her　forcefully；　an　animal…like　mating；　dragging　her　up　and　forcing　her　to　kneel　facing　away　from　him；　having　to　hold　her　upright　by　her　hair　or　else　she　would　have　fallen　to　the　floor。　Her　strength　had　deserted　her　in　this　terrible　hour　and　she　was　no　more　than　a　rag…doll　to　be　manipulated　by　that　body　out　of　the　coffin；　to　do　his　bidding　in　everything　he　chose。
　　
　　A　hardness　d