"Smith, Guy N - Sabat 02 - The Blood Merchants" - читать интересную книгу автора (Smith Guy N)

'What. . . whatever do you mean?' Stella thought about screaming but it would be futile. Nobody came along this street at night except the odd drunk who would certainly not investigate female shrieks.

'Behold,' there was a maniacal gleam in his eyes, 'you gaze upon one of the honoured disciples of Lilith, goddess of darkness.'

You're crazy, she thought. A sudden desperate idea had her unfastening her dress, baring her white flesh. 'This is what you wanted, isn't it?'

'Yes . . . and no,' a whispered laugh, 'but not in the way you mean.'

'Then what the hell are you after?'

'Tonight,' his voice was so low that she had to strain her ears to catch the words, 'the disciples of Lilith have gone abroad to seek the likes of you. You should be honoured that you have been chosen.'

His sudden attack caught her unawares, a leap that brought him on top of her, the springs groaning their protest. He seemed to be pinioning her with one hand,
getting something out of one of his pockets with the other. She thought, oh God, he's got a knife! The orange light infiltrating the room glinted briefly on something but she had no time to see what it was; did not want to, turning her head away and praying that the end would be quick.

Sudden agony that began in the flesh of her neck, burned right up into her throat, cutting off the piercing scream. Her throat filling up, blood being sucked out, filling again. Kicking wildly, her assailant seemingly impervious to her puny feet hammering against his body; laughing. She felt her strength waning, consciousness slipping from her. She thought she was screaming, at least she was trying to.

'I am a disciple of Lilith' His words hit her like physical blows as she weakened fast, gargling her own blood, suddenly aware that he was no longer on top of her. She couldn't see, her sight was gone, just a crimson darkening haze over her eyes. It sounded as though a tap nearby had been turned on and with a stab of horror she realised that it was her own blood spouting up and splashing on the floor.

Oh Jesus, the bastard had cut her throat I Instinctively, just as Shanda had done, Stella Lowe attempted to plug the neat little hole with her fingers, but nothing could stop her life spurting away. Her body heaved as she tried to rise, swaying gently under the momentum of the rusty springs; a bizarre twitching of every limb, blood dripping everywhere.

Her ears picked up one final sound, the door scraping open and shut, padding footsteps receding into the dark night.

The disciple of Lilith was returning from whence he came. And somewhere an owl was hooting.










CHAPTER TWO



SABAT WAS in bed when the telephone on the wall table close by began bleeping. He cursed fluently, raised his naked body to a sitting position and reached for the receiver with his left hand, his right hand continuing to do what it had been doing for the last twenty minutes.

'Sabat.' He spoke abruptly, reluctantly trying to shake off a mental picture of a blonde girl who wore black boots, with bra and suspenders to match, and had an inexhaustible repertoire of pleasurably painful things to do to a man, one of the few women who had ever dominated his own strong personality.

'McKay speaking. Sorry to disturb you.'

Not half as sorry as I am, you bastard. He grinned in the darkness, suddenly tense and alert. The police were always a matter for concern, particularly in the early hours of the morning. Detective Sergeant McKay of the CID, late of the SAS, would not be phoning him unless it was something desperately urgent.

Tire away,' Sabat murmured, and added beneath his breath, 'what I was doing can wait.'

'Sabat,' the other spoke hesitantly, a tone of embarrassment creeping into his commanding voice, 'do you believe in... vampiresT