[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

Sabat's eyes were open. This could not be happening, it was some cruel figment
of fantasy, his astral torturing him during that brief period when life
slipped into death, a taunting hope that would be dashed with the coming of
oblivion.
Spode was tottering, floundering, a drowning man panicking. Those vile
features were unrecognisable in an expression of unbelievable agony, lips
moving soundlessly now, mute curses, falling. He hit the floor, heaving as he
struggled for breath, a grotesque fish that found itself grounded, its death
struggles growing weaker by the second; lying there, eyes that dimmed, staring
hatefully up at Sabat, moving on to ...
Alison!
The West Indian girl stood there, eyes closed as though she could not bring
herself to look upon this creature who had once been her master, the bloody
sacrificial knife slipping slowly from her fingers and clattering on the
stones. Her lips were moving, Sabat had to strain his 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 come, 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
Page 78
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
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 come 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 come. 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 [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

  • zanotowane.pl
  • doc.pisz.pl
  • pdf.pisz.pl
  • alwayshope.keep.pl

    •