Cemetery Dance

The priest closed in.

D'Agosta turned away. He heard the shrill whi

The crowd broke into a fast chant and D'Agosta turned back. The priest hoisted up the dying colt in his arms, its legs still twitching. He advanced down the nave, the crowd parting before him, as he once again approached the hideous man — thing. With a cry, the priest heaved the colt's body to the stone floor while the congregation abruptly knelt, all at once, D'Agosta and Pendergast hastening to keep up.

The zombii fell upon the dead colt with a hideous sound, tearing at it with his teeth, pulling out entrails with a bestial sound of gratification and stuffing them into his mouth.

The susurrus rose in volume: Feed the protector! Envoie! Envoie!

D'Agosta stared in horror at the crouching man. As he did so, a stab of atavistic fear plucked deep at his vitals. He glanced at Pendergast. A flick of the silver eyes from beneath the cowl directed D'Agosta's attention at a side door in the church — partially open, leading into a dark, empty corridor. A route of escape.

Envoie! Envoie!

The figure ate with furious speed. And then he was sated. He rose, face expressionless, as if awaiting orders. The crowd rose, too, as one.

With a gesture from the priest, the crowd parted, forming a human passageway. At the far end of the church came the creak and squeal of iron, and a congregant opened the door to the outside. A faint breath of twilight air entered, and over the top of the perimeter wall a single dull star could be seen shining in the darkness. Charrière placed one hand on the zombii's shoulder, raised the other, and pointed a long, bony finger at the open door.

"Envoie!" he whispered hoarsely, his finger trembling. "Envoie!"

Slowly, the figure began to shuffle toward the door. In a moment it had passed through and was gone. The door closed with a hollow boom.

At this, the crowd seemed to exhale, to relax, to shuffle and move about. The priest began loading the remains of the colt into a coffin — like box. The dreadful "service" was drawing to a conclusion.

Immediately, Pendergast began to drift toward the passageway, D'Agosta trailing, doing his best to convey a calm and purposeless ma

"Just a moment!" One of the nearest congregants had turned from the appalling scene and taken notice of them. "No one can leave until the ceremony is complete — you know that!"

Pendergast gestured toward D'Agosta while keeping his head averted. "My friend is sick." "No excuses are permitted." The man came forward and ducked to look at Pendergast's face under his cowl. "Who are you, friend?"

Pendergast bowed his head but the man had already glimpsed his face. "Outsiders!" he cried, yanking Pendergast's cowl away.

A sudden silence fell.

"Outsiders!"

Quickly Charrière threw open the outer door to the church. "Outsiders!" he cried into the darkness. "Baka! Baka!"

"Get him! Quickly!"

Suddenly, D'Agosta saw the man — thing framed in the doorway. For a minute, it stood there, swaying slightly. Then it began to move with a strange purpose — toward them.

"Envoie!" screeched the priest, pointing in their direction.

D'Agosta acted first, knocking their accuser to the ground; Pendergast leapt over his supine form, flung open the side door; D'Agosta charged through and Pendergast followed, slamming and locking it behind them.

Chapter 64

They paused,finding themselves in a dim hallway, another door at the far end. A sudden pounding on the door they had just locked pushed them into action. They ran down the hall, but the door at the end was locked. D'Agosta backed up to kick it.

"Wait." A swift manipulation of Pendergast's lockpick and the lock gave way. Again they passed through and Pendergast relocked the door behind them.

They were at the top of a landing, with a wooden staircase leading down into a noisome darkness. Pendergast switched on a penlight, angling it down into the murk.

"That… that man…" D'Agosta panted. "What the hell were they doing? Worshipping him?"

"Perhaps this is not the ideal time for speculation," Pendergast replied.

"I can tell you one thing: that's what attacked me outside the Ville." He could hear pounding on the door at the far end of the hall, the sound of breaking wood.

"After you," said Pendergast, indicating the stairs.

D'Agosta wrinkled his noise. "What other choice do we have?"

"Alas, none." They descended the ancient staircase, the treads groaning loudly under their feet. The staircase ended at a half landing that led to a second staircase, this one of stone, spiraling down into blackness. When at last they reached the bottom, D'Agosta saw that a brick corridor stretched in front of them, damp, heavy with cobwebs and efflorescence. The air smelled of earth and mildew. From behind and above came muffled cries, the sound of fists pounding on wood.

D'Agosta pulled out his own flashlight.

"We need to find stonework matching that in the video," Pendergast said, shining the light along the damp walls. He moved swiftly through the dark, robe trailing behind him.

"Those bastards upstairs are going to be after us in a moment," said D'Agosta.

"They aren't what concerns me," murmured Pendergast. "He is."

They passed beneath several archways and a stone staircase leading upward. Beyond, the tu

"Charming," muttered D'Agosta.

Pendergast abruptly halted.

Then D'Agosta heard what stopped him: a disjointed shuffling, coming out of the darkness behind them. From beyond his light came a loud, phlegmy sniffing sound, as if of someone testing the air. A shambling tread, growing in speed, moving along an invisible passageway seemingly parallel to their chamber. D'Agosta caught the strong, gamy whiff of horseflesh drifting in the damp air.

"You smell that?"

"Only too well." Pendergast focused his light on a nearby archway, from which the smell seemed to flow on a draft of fresh air.

D'Agosta pulled his Glock, feeling a strong spike of fear despite himself. "That thing is in there. You take the left side, I'll take the right."

Pendergast drew his.45 from beneath his robe and they crept up to the doorway, one on either side.

"Now!" D'Agosta cried.

They spun into the doorway, D'Agosta with his own light held against his gun; within he saw nothing but blank walls of damp brick. Pendergast pointed to the floor, where a series of bloody footprints led off into blackness. D'Agosta knelt and touched one; the blood was so fresh it hadn't even congealed.

D'Agosta rose. "This is fucking weird," he muttered.

"It's also wasting time we don't have. Let us keep moving. Fast."

They backed out of the room and jogged across the open necropolis into a passageway at the far side. It soon opened into another cavern — like space, this one very crude, rough — hewn out of the living rock. They entered and shined their lights around.