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Sabat gave no indication other than a faint nod that he had heard, but
Catriona knew that he would obey for he could not do otherwise. The moment the
Colonel had thrown himself breathlessly on the back seat and begun to peel off
his uniform Sabat had let in the clutch and pulled away, following a maze of
deserted side streets that would skirt the scene of today's bloody battle.
'My God, you should have seen it!' Lealan had somehow struggled into a light
blue suit, habitually brushing flecks of dust from the jacket with his
fingers. 'That was how it all began in the thirties. I can almost remember it,
the people rallying to the call, hearing and obeying
But Sabat heard only one sound, the soft chuckle that was undoubtedly
Quentin's weakening that tiny spark of helpless resistance that still burned
inside him. For now truly Sabat was Quentin reborn to a new life after the
unholy mating with Lilith, Goddess of Darkness; a uniting of terrible evils
that were even now spawning the holocaust which would destroy not just Britain
but the whole of the civilised world. And Sabat was now a part of that awful
alliance, powerless to fight back; not even his own death would release him
from the role of treachery which was now his!
CHAPTER TEN
SABAT WAS back in his own home by early evening. Outwardly nothing had
changed. He parked the Daimler in the garage, let himself into the house,
stood in the hall trying to collect his thoughts. A mixture of familiarity and
strangeness, a feeling that he ought not to be here, that he was an intruder
in his own domain; remembering events as though he had been a mere spectator
to them, that they had happened to somebody else. And Quentin no longer
troubled him because he was Quentin.
Sabat unlocked the door of the gymnasium, went down the steps and switched the
lights on. Emotionlessly he surveyed the scene, the three huddled denim-clad
bodies. All dead. After dark he would dispose of them; three more dead
skinheads were not going to arouse a lot of police interest.
Back upstairs he opened the cocktail cabinet, not so much as glancing at the
whisky or the bottle of peppermint cordial. He poured himself a generous
measure of gin, a drink which previously he had always found distasteful, a
fiery acid in his throat. Now he tossed it back with relish, refilled his
glass. Quentin had always preferred gin, he had been an alcoholic at one stage
of his black career.
Suddenly Sabat was aware of his own tiredness, a drowsiness which had been
creeping up on him ever since he had deposited the Lealans at Heathrow. Now
that he was alone he experienced an overwhelming desire to sleep; he began to
drag himself wearily up the stairs still clutching the tumbler of gin in his
hand.
He pushed open the bedroom door and recoiled, the glass falling from his hand
and bouncing on the carpet, a bestial snarl of fear coming from his lips. His
skin prickled with a sensation akin to pins and needles, droplets of sweat
oozing on to his forehead. Crouching there, he stared into the room, and knew
instantly why he could not enter. Because of the pentagram chalked on the
floorboards beneath the carpet, a five-pointed star designed to repel all evil
entities. And now Sabat was one of those same dark forces which he had fought
in the past!
He cursed, but knew that there was no way he could go inside there. Backing
away to the stairs, his terror subsiding with each yard he retreated, shaking
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a fist in futile frustration.
Back downstairs he stretched himself out on the couch in the lounge, closed
his eyes, prepared to submit to the weariness which engulfed him; exhausted,
yet he was unable to relax. Tension, an unevenness in the way he breathed, his
muscles taut, and as he slid into an uneasy slumber he knew only too well what
was happening to him. His astral body was disturbed, restless, eager to wander
far a field again. Normally he would not have worried, only this time it was
Quentin's astral body which would be projected into unknown spheres, a spirit
of evil over which Sabat had no control. And there was no way he could prevent
it from leaving him!
It left him in an almost desperate rush, a sudden dash for freedom, soaring
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