nearly unconscious； one last supreme effort。 'Beat down Satan quickly。'
Just when it seemed that Mark Sabat was slipping down into a red…tinged black abyss he found himself floating back up； gasping for air and managing to draw great lungfuls in because the crushing grip on his windpipe had relaxed。 His head still ached but not so violently as before and he found that he could move his limbs。
For some time he lay there on the hall floor； the darkness weling and no longer cold。 Total relaxation； calling upon his knowledge of yoga to calm mind and body； knowing from experience that the attack would not be renewed 。。。 yet！ For the moment he had won； just another round in an eternal battle； but nevertheless he had overe his attackers。 Quentin certainly had instigated this because only Quentin would know of his intention to fight the supreme evil behind the necromancy at St Adrian's。 Whatever his brother had called upon it was some low entity； a powerful yet ignorant poltergeist； a crude beast from the dark jungles beyond the ken of Mankind。
But； most important of all； Mark Sabat was still in possession of his most powerful weapon； the ability to exorcise an evil spirit。 That was some consolation； even though the enemy had been a low entity。 Nevertheless； the real test would e when he went down to that remote village in the heart of leafy England； a countryside steeped in legend where once King Arthur's knights had sat at their mythical round table and where Guy of Warwick had fought and killed the terrible Dun Cow。 A land soaked in blood and evil where the dark forces would be all…powerful。 Sabat shuddered at the thought。
Some time later he rose to his feet； tried the light switch and flooded the hallway with bright fluorescent light that jarred his aching head。 He felt physically and mentally drained as he mounted the wide； carpeted stairs and made his way to his bedroom on the landing above。
Every nerve in his body screamed for sleep but he must keep them waiting a while yet for there was important work to be done before he could relax。 It was unlikely that the attack would be renewed this night but he was taking no chances。
His large bedroom was surprisingly sparsely furnished when pared with the others in the house。 Bare floorboards； a double bed and a wardrobe。 Nothing else。
Wearily Sabat set to work。 First the floor was swept clean； every effort taken to ensure that no obvious particle of dirt remained。 Then he produced chalk and string and painstakingly began to mark out a pentagram with the bed in the centre。 After that followed an inner circle。 Then the small silver chalice filled with water from the bathroom tap and charged。 Sabat's voice low and meaningful； sincere in every sentence。 It was almost as though he had thrown off the evil which flowed through him but he knew only too well that that was not so； he had only submerged it。 He would not make the mistake of being caught unawares again。
He undressed； stripped naked and flung his clothes out of the pentacle for fear that some evil entity might have lodged in some dust on the cloth and would materialise later。 He sighed； flung back the quilt and eased his nude body on to the under sheet。 Sabat never wore night attire； likening it to going to bed in a suit。 He liked to experience the freedom of his body as God had intended it to be； totally unclothed and。。 。
It came as a shock to him to realise that his exhaustion had evaporated totally during the process of undressing。 A glance down at his own body confirmed the reason； the rigid pulsing erection； the sensation spreading up from his lower regions。 He groaned softly to himself … another trick of the Left…Hand Path to undermine his resistance； or just the fact that sexually he had gone into overdrive again？ His sexual appetite knew no bounds； was seldom fully satisfied。 He shrugged as his fingers slid down his flat stomach and began to ruffle the bushy black pubic hair； drawn irresistibly to that part of his body like iron filings to a magnet。
His fantasies came like scudding clouds on a breezy day； beginning with that youthful indiscretion which had once caused him so much mental anguish； now he found it exhilarating and lived it over again。 Racing in time with his finger movements； one encounter after another； all leading up to an explosive finale in which the colonel's unfaithful wife cast aside her vicious hunting crop； tugged off her black leather boots and crawled across to him with her mouth wide in expectation。
For the second time that night Sabat writhed and fought and by the time his exhaustion was beginning to creep back the first grey light of a new day was creeping in through the chinks in the curtains。
Relief at last because it was his own body that had done this to him； not some insidious sensual plot by Quentin and his evil ones to weaken him。 One final pang of fear that followed Sabat into a troubled slumber … that one day they might send Erzulie； the Black Venus； to him as he convulsed powerless in one of his crazed masturbation fantasies； and that the beautiful black goddess of voodoo would succeed where others had failed。
CHAPTER TWO
THERE WAS nothing untoward about the village itself； Sabat decided as he drove his silver Daimler in on the winding north road。 Once it had been a hamlet； renovated and extended agricultural cottages dating back to the fourteenth century。 But the evil serpent of conurbation was not to be kept at bay as the housing estates on the outskirts sprawled untidily like floodwater from a swollen river； swamping all before it； leaving just one tiny island in the middle。
Sabat slowed on a rise that fell away to the old village； cast his gaze upon the unsightliness of it all。 New houses； strangers moving into the area； the old evil being joined by new evil in an unholy alliance。 The population had swelled and that was going to make it a thousand times more difficult to find those who indulged in necromancy。
The original village was much the same as it had always been； doors and windows opening directly on to pavements； a small general store valiantly trying to pete with the large supermarket in the new part。 A blacksmith's shop； horseriding was very much a status symbol with the nouveaux riche。 Then the church； a crumbling fortress which had been overrun by the godless invaders and condemned to dereliction。 He made out the cemetery adjoining but the hedges and undergrowth were too wild and struggling to afford him much detail。
The 'Dun Cow' （there were several in the county named after the legendary monster） stood at the far end of the street beyond the rambling vicarage。 While the main edifice still retained much of its originality； an extension twice the size of the old pub had been built on at the rear； cunningly screened from the road by architects who had fought for and finally won planning permission。 A disco to lure the teenagers every Saturday night。
Sabat eased his car into the spacious car…park； noted the deep pot…holes and some broken bottles which had not been picked up。 The 'Dun Cow' was making its profit； it had no time to consider the safety and convenience of its clients。
The sign over the door stated that Herbert Walley was licensed to sell beer； wines and spirits； and the gentleman himself behind the lounge bar was doing exactly that； pouring cloudy pints of ale while dressed in a collarless striped shirt with sleeves rolled up above the elbow。 Once a powerful man his muscles were running to fat in middle…age and his expanding waistline was a fair sign that he drank large quantities of his own beer。
'Yes； sir' Walley looked round and Sabat was quick to notice an unmistakable southern accent。 Another stranger。
'I'm looking for acmodation for a few nights。' Sabat pulled a yellowing meerschaum pipe from his pocket and began stuffing long…stranded tobacco into the bowl。 An intermittent smoker he preferred a pipe； especially on those occasions when he indulged in cannabis； for so much of the expensive substance could be wasted in the rolling of a